Rebecca's Rose (4 page)

“Lots of Amish kids go to movies before baptism.”

“But have
you
ever seen a movie? In a theater?”

Rebecca played with her straw. “Nae. I’ve lived a very dull life.”

“No money?”

“I work one day a week cleaning for an Englisch woman so I can pay for prescriptions and my cell phone. There is not much left over for anything else.”

“You have a cell phone?”

“Mamm is not happy about it. She thinks it will pull me to the world. But I have not been baptized.”

“So anything goes until you’re baptized?”

“No. All good parents want to keep their children from doing destructive things.
Rumschpringe
or not, we try to live lives of duty to God and our families—though some experiment more than others. I do not think God smiles on immoral behavior simply because someone has not been baptized yet. The consequences are certainly worse after one has committed to God, but sin is sin whether before or after baptism.”

Her earnest expression made him smile to himself. “So is that a yes or a no to seeing a movie?” he said.

“What movie?” Rebecca said.

“Well, if you’re brave enough to ski, you should be brave enough for
The Fleshies
. Can you handle zombies?”

“What are zombies?”

“You’ll find out. But I warn you, it’s supposed to be terrifying,” Levi said.

“I am not afraid of anything.”

He didn’t know why, but Levi had the sudden, almost irresistible urge to lean over and kiss her. She was so cute with her unfailingly proper manners and her ready-for-anything facade. A girl couldn’t fake such endearing behavior. Up against Rebecca, Tara seemed kind of hardened.

He shook his head back and forth a couple of times to clear his thoughts and plopped some cash on the table. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Zombie movie. Best idea ever.

As the blood and guts exploded on the screen, Rebecca seized the armrests on either side of her and gripped them until her knuckles turned white. Levi inched his warm hand on top of her ice-cold one. She pulled away as if she had been burned.

Okay, she didn’t want him to touch her during the movie, but she would definitely melt into his arms as soon as the danger was over. A scary movie did that to a girl.

She pressed her head against the back of her seat but never closed her eyes or looked away from the screen. She might be terrified, but she seemed determined to take the horror with both eyes wide-open.

Her lips, pursed in distress, were achingly tempting. Maybe he would give her a post-movie kiss. Just to make Tara jealous.

After the military blew the last zombie’s head off and the credits rolled, Levi moved in to comfort Rebecca. Lowering his head, he locked his eyes on hers to prepare her for what was to come.

Instead of puckering up, she produced three whole sticks of gum from her pocket and stuffed them into her mouth. He waited for her to chew them into submission then closed in again, cupping her chin in his hand and turning her toward him. Her eyes, deep pools of emotion, pled with him to lay one on her. He tilted his head slightly.

“Don’t kiss me,” she said, loud enough for the guys three rows in front of them to hear.

Levi almost choked on his astonishment. “What?”

“Don’t kiss me.”

“Why not?”

“Thirty-four people are dead and you expect a kiss?”

“It’s just a movie.”

“I have never been kissed before, and if you kiss me now, I will forever associate kissing with creepy men with skin peeling off their faces. How could you do that to my future husband?”

Levi pulled back. “It’s not real. Can’t you just forget—?”

“Nae, I cannot just forget.”

“But I want to kiss you. That’s what people do on dates.”

Rebecca held up her hand in case Levi tried to break through her defenses. “No kissing.”

Surprised at the depth of his disappointment, Levi backed off.

Zombie movie. Worst idea ever.

Rebecca tucked the six twenty-dollar bills into her apron pocket and took her black bonnet from the hook by the front door.

“I will see you next week, Mrs. Johnson,” she said, deftly fastening the bonnet ties into a bow under her chin.

Mrs. Johnson, who was perched in her lounge chair in front of the television set, nodded inattentively. “Put some ointment on that elbow. And put the garbage out on the street, will ya?”

Rebecca cleaned house for Mrs. Johnson one day a week, twelve hours a day, every day the same. She scrubbed bathrooms, vacuumed floors, washed windows, and wiped walls, then made two casseroles for Mrs. Johnson to freeze for meals during the week. The work was hard, but Mrs. Johnson paid well. A hundred and twenty dollars a week funded Rebecca’s cell phone and two prescriptions for Mamm. She stashed the few surplus dollars every month for emergencies, like anticipated amusement park trips and future ski rentals.

Although she earned good money, Rebecca dreaded Tuesdays. Even after work, her labor didn’t end. Once she got home she would clean up her siblings’ messes, do a batch of laundry, mop, and milk. And look after Mamm. She was usually up past ten o’clock.

Every week, Rebecca caught a ride home with Marvin Yutzy, who passed by Mrs. Johnson’s in his buggy at precisely six o’clock in the evening. Marvin was already baptized and eagerly looking for a wife.

And Rebecca eagerly hoped that Marvin did
not
consider her a possible future companion.

The man would put his poor wife to sleep every night with his monotone voice and long recitations of the latest weather patterns. Rebecca thought of him as the human sleeping pill—a very uncharitable notion indeed. How could she ever hope to join the community of Christ with such wicked thoughts filling her head?

Unfailingly prompt, Marvin guided his horse in front of Mrs. Johnson’s mailbox just as Rebecca put the garbage bin at the street. With more energy than he ever exhibited in his conversation, he nimbly leaped from the buggy, ran around to the other side, and helped Rebecca into her seat. She thanked him sincerely. If it weren’t for Marvin, Rebecca would have to walk the four miles home every Tuesday.

“
Gute
day at work today?” Marvin asked as he prodded his horse into a slow trot.

“Jah. Mrs. Johnson’s back was acting up, but she can still walk around fine.”

“She is a nice lady.”

“Jah, very nice. Gute day for you?”

“Me and Davie today was disagreeing over which breed of Jerseys or Holsteins is best. The Jerseys are smaller and easier to handle, but Holsteins give more milk. I think the Jerseys are a better breed for the cream. The milk is richer, and with Samuel making more cheese than anything else, he needs the higher fat content.”

Rebecca smiled and nodded politely. She had heard Marvin debate with himself about Jerseys and Holsteins no less than six times. She wondered what he would say if she asked for his opinion about skiing versus skateboarding. Or zombies versus aliens. Not that she would ever seek out that disturbing zombie experience again. She could proudly say she’d seen a zombie movie and check that off her list of things to do before she died—but there was no need to distress herself like that ever again. As Levi would say, “Been there, done that.”

“…and ice cream. Do you think Samuel would try that?” Marvin turned to look at Rebecca. He seemed intensely curious about what she had to say. She couldn’t bear to hurt his feelings and admit that she hadn’t been listening.

“I—I do not know,” she stammered. “Samuel has a gute head for business.” Rebecca held her breath, hoping this answer would suffice.

Marvin nodded. “I agree. He will make the right decision. Ice cream is more expensive to transport.”

As the buggy rounded the corner, her house came into view and Rebecca caught sight of her brothers wrestling in the front yard. Had they finished the milking? Her heart sank. More likely, they hadn’t even started.

“Will you come to the gathering tomorrow night, Rebecca?” Marvin said. “My parents are hosting.”

Rebecca pried her glare from her brothers. “Nae, Fater won’t be home until Friday and the chores are piling up.”

Marvin actually reached over and placed his hand on hers. “You are nineteen years old, Rebecca. How will you find a husband if you don’t go to the gatherings?”

A husband?
The question pricked her temper, and she answered more adamantly than she meant to. “I already have three siblings and my mother to look after. Why would I want another mouth to feed?”

Marvin furrowed his brow. “Is that all a husband is to you? Another mouth to feed?”

Jah,
Rebecca wanted to snap.
What would I be but a maid and servant to one more person in the house? A person who would claim some sort of authority over my life.

That was how her fater treated her. He used their home as a boardinghouse, sleeping over on weekends before leaving town for another job as far away as possible from his ailing wife and burdensome children.

Rebecca swallowed the resentment that Marvin didn’t deserve and shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I have plenty of work to do here. How could I abandon my family for a husband when they need me so much right now?”

Marvin stared at her for an uncomfortably long time. “You have a gute heart, Rebecca, to take such care with your family.”

“Denki, Marvin. I complain too much.”

“I have never heard you utter a word of complaint.”

In my heart I grumble constantly,
thought Rebecca.
Gute thing Marvin or anyone else cannot see my rebellious spirit.

Dottie Mae saw what others did not, but she never rebuked Rebecca for her complaining. There would never be another bosom friend like Dottie Mae, ever, in the entire world.

Marvin didn’t feel the need to open the door for Rebecca a second time. With her shoulders slumped, she trudged to the house, ignoring her brothers and drawing up a mental list of things that must be done before bedtime.

Peeling off her bonnet, she tiptoed down the hall to the room she shared with Linda and peeked inside. Linda was not in her usual place, sprawled on the bed looking at magazines or filing her nails. Rebecca hastily entered the room. With the door bolted behind her, she walked to the window, where she pried the windowsill loose and laid her money in the space beneath. She shuffled through her cash to make sure nothing was missing then repositioned the board to appear as if it hadn’t budged since the house was built.

The profound silence shattered when someone pounded on the door. Rebecca jumped out of her skin.

“Hey, why is the door locked?”

Rebecca hurried to the door and slid the bolt from the fastener. Linda burst into the room and launched herself onto the small double bed with a dramatic groan.

“Mamm needs you,” she said, fluffing a pillow and preparing to make herself comfortable.

“Has she been asking for me?”

“Nae, but I can tell when she is tired of me.” Linda repositioned a pin in her kapp. “I do not have the patience to be a nurse. It’s so boring, watching after a sick person all day long. I need to use my brain. Hannah said I was one of the top in the class in eighth grade.”

“How did Mamm do today?”

“I don’t know. Like she always does, I guess.”

“Did she get up?” Rebecca said.

“After breakfast she walked outside to tell the boys to weed the garden, which they did for about three minutes before running off.”

“I did not see any clothes on the line.”

Linda rolled onto her side and propped up her cheek with her hand. “I did not have time to start the wash.”

Rebecca sighed in exasperation. Getting her sister to do anything but the bare minimum was like expecting Marvin Yutzy to develop a personality. “Linda, the wash is the one and only thing I asked you to do today.”

Linda stuck out her bottom lip. “I read to Mamm, practically the whole morning, and I made her a sandwich. I fed the boys too.”

Rebecca wanted to stomp around the room and scream at the top of her lungs, but what good would it do? It would only upset Mamm. Linda and those two troublemakers wrestling on the front lawn were plain lazy—as lazy as the day was long. And with an absent father and an ill mother, Rebecca had all the work and none of the authority. She couldn’t make her siblings do anything, and when she tried, she got so angry she thought her head might explode like one of those zombies. So she soldiered on, doing her best to run the household without much help from anyone, keeping her emotions buried deep so Fater would not find fault with her—and so she would not crack into a million pieces.

But even as the rage swirled inside her, she tried to quell it, to ignore it, and, if possible, to refuse to give it power. Rebecca had no desire to play the martyr. She could rail against her lot in life and be completely miserable or accept reality and make the best of it. She tried—oh, how she tried—to cheerfully make the best of it, but some days the weight of her responsibilities overpowered her resolve.

Rebecca couldn’t think of anything nice to say to her sister. Not even an insincere “Thank you” escaped her lips. She tromped into the kitchen, pulled the flour and some spices from the cupboard, and began mixing a coating for the chicken. Heating an inch of oil in a frying pan, she smeared the chicken legs with egg and coating mix and arranged them in the hot skillet. Then she made her way down the hall to Mamm’s room. She had five minutes to spare before she needed to turn the chicken.

Her mamm, fully clothed except for her shoes, lay on her side on top of the intricately appliquéd quilt on her bed. Her eyes were closed, but Rebecca could tell that she was not asleep.

“How is the pain today, Mamm?”

Mamm opened her eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

Rebecca shook her head. Mamm only said that on especially bad days. “Knees and hands?”

Mamm gingerly rolled onto her back and winced. “Ach,
heartzly,
everything is worse today.” She held out her arms. “
Cum
, give me a hug. I hate it when you are away from home.”

“Jah, I should be here to take care of you.”