Rum Spring (10 page)

Rebecca put her lips next to Dylan’s ear. “Because I love you,” she whispered. She kissed her the way she had seen Humphrey Bogart kiss Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, a movie she didn’t need Dylan to tell her was the most romantic of all time. “Happy birthday.”

“It is now.”

Chapter Six

Rebecca bent to examine the stitching on a patchwork quilt sewn in 1890. The colors were still vibrant despite the fact that the materials were over a hundred years old. She consulted her program to read the artist’s biography.

“Perhaps your name will be in there one day,” Dylan said.

“I don’t think so. These quilts are spectacular. Mine pale in comparison.”

Dylan had driven Rebecca to the Philadelphia Museum of Art to see the thirteen antique and contemporary African American quilts on display. Rebecca was awed by the endless variety of the quilts and the unquestioned creativity of the women who had sewn them.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

“That one.” Rebecca pointed to a quilt covered with cutouts shaped like stylized human hands.

“Mine, too. It was commissioned for the movie The Color Purple.”

“Is that why it’s your favorite?”

“No, it reminds me of you learning to high five.”

Rebecca felt her cheeks redden. “Everything reminds you of me.”

“Just about.” Dylan pulled out a map of the museum. “The Matisse exhibit isn’t too far from here. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, but I’d like to talk to you first.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“No, I think you’re going to like what I have to say.”

They went outside and sat on the stone steps that led to the entrance of the museum. Rebecca watched as one person after another ran up the steps, thrust their arms in the air, and did a triumphant dance.

“They all think they’re in Rocky,” Dylan said. “These are the steps from the movie.”

“The one about the boxer?”

Dylan chuckled. “If you want to describe a movie that won three Oscars as ‘the one about the boxer,’ yes.”

Rebecca enjoyed the gentle ribbing. When Dylan teased her, she could feel how much Dylan cared about her. When others did it—like those boys who tormented her and Sarah and mischief makers who threw bricks and beer bottles at passing buggies—she could feel their mean spirits coming to the fore. Why did people feel the need to make fun of what they didn’t understand? And why was Dylan so different?

“Thank you for being my friend.”

Rebecca squeezed Dylan’s hand. Dylan squeezed back.

“Thank you for being mine. What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m moving in with Marian.”

Dylan’s eyebrows knitted. “I know it’s convenient, but why would you want to live with someone who is as unpredictable as she is? Her friends are just as bad. All they do is party and get wasted.”

“I know Marian has a problem with drink, but I hope I can be a steadying influence on her. And if I’m living in the city, it will give you and me more time to be together. Time without anyone to tell us what we can and can’t do.”

Dylan slowly unspooled a smile. “When is moving day?”

Rebecca returned Dylan’s smile. “Marian moved in last night. I will join her Wednesday after work.”

“I’m supposed to work that night. I’ll see if I can switch with someone so I can help you move.”

“If you do that, you’ll probably end up having to work over the weekend and we won’t be able to go fishing. I’m looking forward to showing you something that I like to do for a change. I’ll ask someone else to help me.”

“Who, Tobias?”

“No, I shall ask Papa. He agreed to let me move into town because he doesn’t want me on the road all the time. He has not asked to see the apartment, but I know he would like to so he can assure himself I will be as safe there as I would at home.”

“I could use the same assurance.”

“You’ll have it. You can visit as often as you like.” Rebecca grinned.

“What’s so funny?”

“I never thought I’d have a place of my own. Not without having a husband and children first.” A veil descended over Dylan’s eyes the way it did every time Rebecca mentioned becoming a wife and a mother. To lift the shroud, Rebecca moved to less weightier matters. “I like Philadelphia.”

“You should,” Dylan said with a laugh. “We’re here practically every weekend.” Her expression turned serious. “Could you see yourself living here one day? Could you see yourself living with me?”

“I’m like Uncle Amos. I can visit the city, but I couldn’t live there.”

“What if I were there to help you?”

“You would quickly tire of having to lead me by the hand.”

“If you think I would ever get tired of having you in my life, you need to think again. But it sounds like you’ve made up your mind. When your rumspringa ends, so will we.”

Rebecca heard the air of finality in Dylan’s voice. End? They had barely begun. “I have made no such decision.”

“Then why can’t you talk about the future with me? Why can’t you talk about a future with me? Tell me honestly. Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Married to Tobias and learning to love him.”

Rebecca didn’t know she was going to say the words until they tumbled out of her mouth. Once they were said, she couldn’t take them back. She had known from the first weekend of her rumspringa that she would choose Tobias. The day Esther had told her Tobias was interested in her, Rebecca had felt fated to become his wife.

Tobias was calm and steady. Life with him would be untroubled, devoid of the emotional peaks and valleys that characterized her relationship with Dylan. Tobias was the easy choice, but was he the right choice?

Dylan’s eyes filled with tears. “You would marry a man you don’t love and have his children in order to fit in instead of remaining true to yourself?”

Rebecca thought of Uncle Amos living by himself because he couldn’t be with the one his heart desired most. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You don’t have to be alone. You can be with me. Why should you have to learn to love Tobias when you already know how to love me? You can have the life you want.”

“The life I want or the one you want for me? How do you know what I want?”

“Because I feel it every time you kiss me.”

Rebecca sighed. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“I don’t intend to. Tell Tobias not to make those wedding plans yet. I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

Rebecca’s father stood in front of the open refrigerator. “There is more food in here than you girls will eat in two lifetimes.”

“That’s Uncle Amos’s fault,” Rebecca said. “He gave me three boxes of vegetables because he didn’t want me eating out of cans.”

Marian tossed a plastic container of macaroni and cheese into the microwave. “Canned food is better. You don’t have to cook it as long and you don’t have to worry about it going bad after a week. Hello again, Mr. Lapp.”

“Marian.”

Rebecca was embarrassed by Marian’s immodest attire. Why was she wearing skimpy shorts and a tank top when she knew her father was coming to help her move in?

“I’d best be going,” he said.

“So soon?” Rebecca asked.

“I want to get home before dark. Neither I nor my horse see as well as we used to.”

Marian sat on the counter, causing her short shorts to ride up even higher on her long legs. “Come back when you can stay longer, Mr. Lapp.”

Rebecca shot Marian what she hoped was a baleful look. She would discuss Marian’s disrespectful behavior later. “Let me walk you out, Papa.”

“No need. I’m sure I can find my way.”

Rebecca didn’t want him to rush off. She tried to prolong his visit. “What do you think of the apartment?”

He rapped his knuckles against the living room wall. “It is well-made. It should do nicely.” His eyes flicked toward the kitchen, where Marian was singing an off-key version of a rap song. He turned back to Rebecca. “If you decide not to stay, your room will be waiting for you at home.”

“Thank you, Papa, and thank you for your help today.”

“It seems like just yesterday you were a newborn babe and I was holding you in my arms. Now you’re nearly grown. How quickly time passes.”

He kissed her cheek. A lump formed in Rebecca’s throat as she watched him walk away.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Marian said. “Break out the beer, simmie. It’s time to celebrate.” She picked up the phone and began calling all her friends. “Party at my place. Be there or be square.”

When Marian’s friends showed up, Rebecca quickly tired of their drunken antics. She retreated to her room. Rowdy laughter seeped through the locked door. Rebecca plugged her ears with wadded tissues and opened a book.

“So much for being a steadying influence.”

Dylan baited her hook and, with a quick flick of her wrist, cast her line into the water. The red and white bobber floated on the water’s surface, then quickly sank beneath it. “I’ve got a bite.” She braced her legs underneath her and strained to reel in the fish. “Get the net. I’ve got Moby Dick on the line.”

Rebecca set her own rod aside and picked up the fishing net. When Dylan pulled her quarry closer to the creek bank, Rebecca dipped the net into the water and captured the fish. She held up a brook trout only slightly longer than her hand. “Did you say you had Moby Dick on the line or Nemo?”

“I will never show you another movie as long as I live.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Rebecca gently pulled the hook out of the small trout’s mouth and released the fish into the water.

Dylan grabbed a chicken salad sandwich out of the cooler and sat on the soft grass. “Dad and I haven’t gone fishing in ages. I had forgotten how much fun it could be.”

“So this was a good idea?”

“This was a great idea.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Some of the best times I’ve shared with Uncle Amos were spent with fishing poles in our hands. We could go all day without uttering a word, but I never felt like we ran out of things to say. Do you ever feel that way? No, you’re the kind of person who has to be doing something at all times or you go stir-crazy. You’re always in a hurry.”

Dylan tapped her watch. “The clock is ticking. We have only so much time.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rebecca reeled in a five-pound trout and placed it in the fishing basket at her feet.

Dylan took a peek in the basket. Six large trout lay inside. She had caught two. Rebecca was responsible for the other four. Fresh fish for dinner. Yum. Rebecca had volunteered their services to cook, but Dylan feared Rebecca might not be the only one who would need help figuring out how to use the temperature controls on her mother’s electric stove.

Dylan took a bite of her sandwich and debated whether to bring up the subject that had been preoccupying her thoughts for weeks. “I want to ask you something. Your answer’s probably going to be no, but I’m going to ask you anyway.”

“What is it?”

“You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not life and death.”

“Then what is it?”

“Will you go to the prom with me?”

“As your date?”

“Ideally, but if you’d like to go as friends, we could do that, too.”

“What would you do if I said no? Would you ask someone else?”

“There is no one else I’d rather be with. If you say no, we’ll find something else to do that night. But I’m not going to ask someone else to go to the prom with me just to be able to say I went. One thing I’m never going to do is settle for second best. It wouldn’t be fair to me or whoever I ended up with.”

Rebecca thought for a moment. She had an opportunity to go to a dance on Dylan’s arm. She could think of nothing better. But what if someone saw her? What if word got back to her mother or father or someone else in her community? What was she supposed to say if they asked her to explain her relationship with Dylan? Her relationship with Dylan was a mystery even to her. Wondrous and magical but oh-so-confusing.

If someone accused her and Dylan of being more than friends, she wouldn’t be able to deny the accusations, but how could she possibly confirm them? But she couldn’t keep saying no every time Dylan suggested they engage in a public activity without Mr. and Mrs. Mahoney around. If she kept doing that, Dylan would eventually get fed up and find someone who wasn’t afraid of her own shadow. No matter what she said about not “settling” for someone else.

“I would love to go with you.”

“But?”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I know where you could find the perfect dress.” Dylan’s face lit up. Hope blossomed in her eyes. Rebecca loved seeing that look on Dylan’s face. Moreover, she loved knowing she had put it there. She didn’t want to be responsible for taking it away.

“When is the prom?”

“Next Saturday night. Should I buy tickets?”

“Would we be the only ones…” Rebecca’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t say the word most people would use to describe what she was. Did she need to? She loved Dylan and Dylan loved her. Why did there have to be labels attached?

“Would we be the only people like us? No. Willie’s taking a girl from our French class and my friend Brendan is going with his boyfriend James. We can all sit at the pink table.” Dylan tossed the sandwich wrapper in the cooler and rested her arms on her knees. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I won’t get mad. I won’t be upset. Don’t say yes just because you think it will make me happy. What do you want to do?”

Rebecca weighed the pros and cons. The negatives outnumbered the positives, but the weight of Dylan’s smile tipped the scales in her favor. “I would love to go to the prom with you.” Dylan whooped and Rebecca began to gather her things. “But right now, I want to go driving.”

Dylan’s smile widened. “Driving or parking?”

“Both.”

Dylan grabbed the cooler and the fishing rods. “Let’s go.”

Lately, they spent more time parked by the side of the road than they did driving on it. Their lessons had devolved into make out sessions—fifteen minutes of driving followed by thirty minutes of kissing and feeling each other up. Rebecca could sit in Dylan’s lap and kiss her forever, but when Dylan’s eyes darkened and her voice grew husky, that was Rebecca’s cue to stop. If she didn’t take the cue, Dylan would gently put an end to their feverish kisses. Rebecca preferred to be the one who pulled away. If Dylan had to do it, Rebecca knew she had pushed her too far.