Rum Spring (12 page)

“You’ll need them more than I will.” He cinched his tool belt around his waist. “Aren’t you the designated errand girl today?”

“Huh?” Focused like a laser beam on Rebecca and Tobias, Dylan had to force herself to concentrate on what her father was saying. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” She shoved the keys into the front pocket of her jeans. “See ya, Dad.”

“Hold up.”

Dylan nearly groaned in frustration. She didn’t have time for a pep talk. She needed to see what sweet nothings Tobias had whispered in Rebecca’s ear. “Yes, Dad?”

“Do you have your head in the game?”

“You should ask Mom that question. I’m not the one who brought a slow cooker to a barn raising.”

Dylan’s mom cradled a large bowl of tossed salad in her arms. “That was years ago.”

“Yeah, but the story gets better every time I tell it.”

Rebecca struggled to keep up with her two-year-old nephew. He had figured out how to climb and was anxious to get into everything that had previously been tantalizingly out of his reach.

“Are you the designated child wrangler today?” Dylan asked.

Rebecca picked up Isaiah before he could overturn a bucket of finishing nails. “Sarah has her hands full with Moses, so I said I’d look after this wiggle worm for a while.”

Moses was Sarah’s younger son, born just three weeks prior. Unlike Isaiah, he was the spitting image of his father. Everyone said so.

Dylan put her hands in front of her face and quickly removed them. “Boo!” Isaiah giggled and clapped his hands until Dylan did it again. She played peek-a-boo with him until he tired of the game. Then she pressed a finger to his button nose. “He’s a cutie.”

“He’s going to be a real heartbreaker one day.”

Dylan lowered her voice. “Just like his aunt.”

Rebecca pressed a kiss to the top of Isaiah’s head to hide her reddening cheeks.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

“Is that why you try so hard to make me do it?”

“That’s just it. I don’t have to try hard. You make it easy for me.” Dylan pulled an envelope out of her back pocket and handed it to Rebecca. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” Rebecca fingered the embossed initials—DKM—on the cream-colored stationery. She rarely received letters and when she did, they were from family.

“An invitation to my graduation next month. I’d love it if you could come, but even if you can’t you’re still obligated to buy me an expensive gift. I’m kidding about the gift. The expensive part, at least. I’m low maintenance. I don’t need much to make me happy. Will you come?”

“And miss out on a chance to see you in a dress? Not on your life.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m going to be wearing shorts under my cap and gown. Unless it’s really hot. Then I might go commando.”

Rebecca looked down at the formally worded invitation in her hands. “You’re graduating. That means you’ll be moving to Philadelphia. I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“It’s only eighty miles,” Dylan said reassuringly. “And I promise I’ll come home every weekend. If you’re not working, I can take you back with me. We can see the Phillies. We can spend all day at the Museum of Art. Or”—she lowered her voice even more—“if you like, we won’t even have to leave my room.”

“I’d like that.” Rebecca blushed again, but this time she didn’t try to hide it. She liked it when Dylan looked at her. When Dylan’s eyes were on her, she felt awake. She felt alive. She felt like she—like they—could do anything. “Maybe I could show you my room later.”

Dylan did a double take. “The one in your apartment?”

“You can be my first official visitor.”

“What would your roommate say?”

“She has friends over all the time. Why can’t I?”

Dylan searched the sea of faces. “Where is she, anyway?”

Rebecca didn’t want to admit Marian was nursing yet another hangover. “She isn’t feeling well. She says she’s going to sleep in and come over after lunch. So if you need help running errands this afternoon, I’ll be happy to pitch in. Maybe we can make a pit stop along the way.”

“Will you be done babysitting by then?”

“I’m sure I won’t have a problem finding someone to fill in for me.” Rebecca indicated the crowd of women who were lining up to watch the men begin framing the barn.

Dylan grinned. “I’ll be sure to come find you.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m organizing a softball game to give the children something to do while their parents are working. I could use a coach for the losing—I mean opposing team.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there to show you how it’s done.”

“Bring it on.”

They parted ways when Dylan left to scout a good location for the softball game and Rebecca went in the house to put Isaiah down for a nap.

The kitchen was as much a whirlwind of activity as the construction site while the women tried to calculate cooking times for their dishes and schedule use of the oven. Rebecca quickly moved out of the way. She headed to Sarah and Joshua’s room, which was just off the kitchen but far enough away from the hustle and bustle to give her some semblance of privacy.

She sat in the rocking chair by the window and cradled Isaiah in her arms, intending to sing him to sleep. Rubbing his eyes with one hand and twisting the other in his soft brown curls, he was already halfway to LaLa Land. Rebecca tried to think of a lullaby to send him the rest of the way. She chose the one Dylan had used on her the first night of her rumspringa. The one Dylan’s grandmother had brought with her from Ireland.

Ireland. The name sounded like Our Land. A magical place made just for her and Dylan. Did such a place really exist?

“You’re better at it than I am,” Sarah said.

Rebecca, who had been watching Dylan place bases on a makeshift diamond, drew her attention away from the window. “At what?”

Sarah placed one sleeping son in his crib and reached for the other. “Getting this one to quiet down.” She gently took Isaiah out of Rebecca’s arms and placed him on his back in the crib opposite Moses’s. “He always puts up a fight with me. He’s the same way you were at his age: scared to go to sleep because he’s afraid he might miss something.” Sarah looked from Isaiah to Rebecca. “Then again, I guess not much has changed.”

Rebecca tried not to wither from Sarah’s pointed stare. “How are things with you?”

Sarah cocked her head. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“You first.”

“Joshua is beside himself. He is the head of a steadily growing family and he has finally found us a place to call our own.”

“That’s Joshua. What about you?”

Sarah’s sigh sounded like a balloon deflating.

“The farm is small, the house is even smaller, and the work never ends. I know I’m expected to smile and make the most of it, but sometimes I wish I could throw it all away and start over.”

Rebecca had suspected Sarah was unhappy, but she hadn’t realized the extent of her discontent.

“I’ve always wanted to be a wife and mother. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being married to a prosperous man with many acres to his name. Joshua isn’t that man. Limited to a scant five acres of farmland and burdened with two young children, we’re barely able to make ends meet. This isn’t the life I imagined living for myself. I expected more.”

Sarah sat on the side of the bed and ran her hands over the quilt that covered it. The quilt Rebecca had crafted as a wedding gift. “Have you given yourself to Tobias yet?”

Rebecca reeled back in shock. “Sarah. Such a question.”

“I’m not supposed to ask and you’re not supposed to answer. I can tell by looking at Tobias that the answer is no. He still walks with the hesitancy of a boy, not the confidence of a man. Looking at you, I can’t help but wonder if you have found another. You are becoming a woman before my eyes. If not Tobias, who is the reason for the change I see in you?”

“I have not changed. I’m the same person I always was.”

“So you have found another.”

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it in your eyes.”

Rebecca wondered what else her eyes had to say.

“Just tell me one thing: are you and Marian getting along?”

Rebecca shrugged. “She’s a good roommate. We don’t get in each other’s way.”

“But you don’t have anything in common. What do you talk about?”

“You know Marian as well as I do. She does most of the talking. I don’t have to say much. All I have to do is listen and nod every once in a while so she’ll know I’m paying attention.”

“What are you going to do when she joins church next year? You can’t live on your own.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Living in the world might not be so bad if I had someone to share my fears with. I can’t imagine doing it alone. You would do that?”

“The rent isn’t so bad. I could pay it on my own if I cut down on other expenses.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow. “Expenses?”

Rebecca laughed, realizing she must sound like she was putting on airs. “I have another year to save up. Even if I keep giving Papa money to help with the farm’s expenses, I still should have enough to live on my own. Or I could always find another roommate. I know lots of girls who are thinking of living in the city, so it shouldn’t be hard to find one to move in with me.”

“Papa allowed you to move in with Marian because she’s my friend. He won’t permit you to live with just anyone.”

Sarah caught Rebecca staring out the window at Dylan, who had rounded up enough children to field two teams and was helping them choose sides. “You can’t depend on her. She’s going to be gone soon. She’s just like the rest of the English—she’ll get bored and she’ll leave.”

“She’ll be back.”

“How do you know?”

Because she loves me, Rebecca almost said. “Because she said she would.”

Sarah snorted. “Do you believe everything the English tell you? If you do, you’re even more gullible than I thought you were. She’s going to go to college, she’s going to meet someone, and she’s going to forget all about you.”

Rebecca thought the same thing at least once a day. But did Sarah have to compound her misery? And did she have to look so gleeful about it? “Why do you hate the English so much?”

“I don’t hate them. I’m just trying to look after you. I don’t want to see you get hurt the way I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Rebecca had hoped marrying Joshua would put a smile on Sarah’s face and, if not that, then the births of her children. None of those things seemed to have worked. If anything, Sarah seemed more despondent than ever. It hadn’t always been that way. Sarah had been bright and bubbly when she was younger, and when she had started her rumspringa, she had been positively ecstatic. Sarah’s whole demeanor had changed when she found out she was pregnant. After that, she had become jumpy and nervous. She had seemed to shrink into herself. She had acted like a child who had been caught doing something she shouldn’t and was afraid of being reprimanded. What could Sarah have done that could cause her so much pain?

Rebecca sat next to her on the bed. “Is there something you want to tell me?” She said the words as gently as she could, but Sarah’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Something like what?”

“Like anything.” Rebecca rested a hand on Sarah’s arm. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.”

Sarah shook off Rebecca’s attempt at comfort. “That’s just it. You aren’t here. You’re out there.” She pointed out the window, through which Rebecca could see Dylan cheering on the youthful players. “You’re becoming one of them.”

“I’ll never be one of them. I’ll always be one of us.”

No matter how much the Mahoneys tried to make her feel included, Rebecca sometimes felt more like an object of curiosity than an equal. Not to the Mahoneys, but to their friends and acquaintances. Mrs. Ziegenfus was a prime example. Rebecca still remembered the teacher’s ill-conceived attempt at levity at Dylan’s birthday party. The painful reminder that her culture, which seemed so normal to her, was considered strange by nearly everyone else.

Torn between two worlds, Rebecca couldn’t seem to find a place in either.

“Go play with your friend,” Sarah said, waving Rebecca away. “She’s waiting for you.”

The little girl chattered away in Pennsylvania Dutch. Dylan nodded as if she understood what she was saying, but Rebecca could tell Dylan had no idea what the girl was trying to tell her. Dylan had probably been able to follow along for a while, but the more excited the girl became, the less Dylan was able to keep up with what she was saying. Now she looked completely lost.

“Need some help?”

“Rebecca.” Palpable relief flooded Dylan’s voice. “I need all the help I can get.” She took the little girl by the shoulders and turned her to face Rebecca. “She’s saying what?”

Rebecca knelt in front of the girl, an adorable moppet who was the spitting image of a Raggedy Ann doll. The rag doll in her arms, though, like all the other dolls Amish children played with, had no face. Children were taught from an early age to strictly adhere to the Second Commandment. Idols and graven images of any kind were forbidden. That rule was applied to everything from photographs to dolls.

Rebecca recognized the girl as the youngest daughter of her former schoolteacher. Her name was Rachel like her mother and her grandmother. Rebecca looked into Rachel’s big blue eyes and listened to her talk about how much she was looking forward to starting school the next year so she could learn to speak English and be more like Dylan.

Rebecca looked up at Dylan and grinned. “It looks like someone has a crush on you.”

As if on cue, Rachel reached out and closed her small hand around two of Dylan’s fingers. Dylan’s ears turned bright red.

“Who’s blushing now?”

Dylan draped an arm across Rebecca’s shoulders and dragged her toward the field. “Just help me with the game, will ya?”

Every boy who was old enough to swing a hammer was helping with the barn, so most of the players were girls. They ranged in age from six to sixteen, with the older ones and the younger ones equally distributed between both teams.

Though she longed to play, Rebecca remained on the sidelines with Dylan. They kept score and acted as glorified cheerleaders, making sure to root with equal enthusiasm for both teams so they couldn’t be accused of playing favorites. Some of the mothers wandered over after a while, but their support wasn’t nearly as impartial.