Rum Spring (13 page)

The game was close and high-scoring, highlighted by even more laughs than home runs. Rebecca couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. She always enjoyed doing things in Dylan’s world. She was glad to see Dylan enjoying herself in hers.

During the midday meal, some time was spent in discussions about the progress of the barn, but most of the hour-long break was devoted to less serious subjects. Most of the smiles around the table disappeared when Marian and a couple of her friends staggered onto the scene.

“What’s with all the surprised looks?” Marian plunked a container of store-bought potato salad on the table. A bright red sticker affixed to the plastic tub boldly declared the contents had been reduced for quick sale. “Didn’t Rebecca tell you I was coming?”

Rebecca, who was sitting next to her mother and across from Dylan and Mrs. Mahoney, tried to make herself invisible. It was one thing for Marian and her friends to be drunk at a hoedown or behind closed doors. For them to be that way at a barn raising was unacceptable. They had gone from embarrassing themselves to embarrassing everyone else as well. The girls’ mothers looked mortified, their fathers visibly angry.

Eyes downcast, Sarah excused herself to check on Moses, who had not stirred from his nap.

Hermann Yoder was in charge of the project, but Rebecca’s father took the lead during the awkward silence that followed Marian’s arrival. “Let’s get back to it,” he said quietly.

The men didn’t need to be told a second time. Rising as one, they prepared to return to the construction site. Some grabbed extra pieces of bread or meat for fortification for the work that remained.

The girls’ mothers sprang into action, too. After guiding their daughters to the women’s table, they piled food on plates and placed them in front of their wayward children.

“Eat something,” Annie Schlabach said, obviously hoping Marian would sober up before she caused even more of a scene. “You’ll feel better.”

Marian pushed the plate away. “I want a Big Mac and a rum and Coke, not a pile of other people’s leftovers.”

Rebecca was tired of watching Marian make a fool out of herself even if Marian had not yet reached that point. When Mr. Yoder signaled he needed Dylan to run her first errand of the day, Rebecca nearly burst into a dance of joy.

“Give this list to Mr. Grunewald at the hardware store and he’ll take care of everything.” Mr. Yoder’s accent was so thick he almost sounded like a parody of himself. “Some of the things are pretty heavy. I can’t spare any of the men, but I can send a couple of the boys with you to help load.” He turned to signal for a couple of teenage boys to come down off the roof, but Dylan stopped him.

“No, don’t bother. I don’t think I’ll have a problem finding help.” She walked away before he could try to convince her to change her mind. She found Rebecca bouncing Isaiah on her knee on the front porch. Dylan’s mother sat next to them. The rest of the women were inside. Some were washing the dishes from lunch. Others, Dylan could hear, were giving Marian and her friends an earful about their behavior. “I’m up.” Dylan brandished the shopping list. “Can you get away?”

Rebecca nodded. “Your mother said she’d watch Isaiah if we had to leave.”

Dylan thanked her lucky stars for having understanding parents. “See you in a bit, Mom,” she said when her mother took Isaiah from Rebecca’s arms. Too busy cooing to the baby, her mother didn’t respond. “Mother?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. He’s just so cute. His impish little smile reminds me of you at his age.”

“We’re going to go now, okay?”

“Take your time, honey.” She lifted a warning eyebrow. “Just don’t take too long.”

“You got it.”

Dylan and Rebecca scampered off to the Silverado, climbed in, and slammed the doors.

“Finally.”

Dylan turned the key in the ignition, put the truck in gear, and drove off, resisting the urge to floor it once she hit the highway. She wanted to pick up the items from the list as quickly as possible so she could have more alone time with Rebecca.

Downtown Lutz was a mix of old and new. Mom-and-Pop stores that had been owned by the same families for generations operated next to national chains owned by faceless corporations. Parking spots for SUVs, compacts, and hybrid vehicles sat alongside hitching posts for horses and buggies. Depending on where she was, Dylan had a hard time determining if she was in the twenty-first century or the nineteenth.

She parked in front of Art Grunewald’s hardware store, which had sat in the same spot for nearly eighty years. Dozens of competitors had come and gone over the years, but Grunewald’s had managed to outlast them all. An additional store in Lancaster had been open for going on twenty years, but its hold on the market was slowly being squeezed out by the large home improvement chains. Loyal customers continued to visit, but Dylan didn’t know how much longer Mr. Grunewald could afford to keep the doors in the Lancaster store open.

“I have good news and bad news.” Mr. Grunewald ran a hand through his thinning gray hair as he regarded the list. “I’ve got everything in stock but the tin. I’ve got it, too, but it’s at the Lancaster store.”

“Do you want me to go pick it up?” Dylan asked.

“That would just take longer, and I know how anxious Hermann is to get this job done on time. I’ll have a couple of the stock boys drive it down. It’ll take at least forty-five minutes for them to load it up and get it here. Longer if they fiddly fart around like I expect them to.”

Dylan suppressed a smile. Mr. Grunewald’s colorful language always amused her, but that wasn’t what had struck her fancy. The delay might throw the men off schedule, but it worked to her advantage. It would give her and Rebecca extra time together. “That’s fine. We’ll run some errands and swing back here in a few.”

“I’ll gather the other stuff Hermann wants and the boys will load everything up when you get back. I’ll see you back here in about an hour, then.”

Dylan and Rebecca headed out to the truck. Dylan used her cell phone to inform her mother of the unforeseen holdup so she could tell the men not to expect her and Rebecca back any time soon.

“Dylan, if—”

Dylan anticipated her mother’s argument. “I’m not making this up, Mom. Mr. Grunewald’s right here if you want to ask him.”

“I’m not going to make you go that far, but you couldn’t have planned it any better if you’d tried, could you?”

“I could have, but I’ll take what I can get.” Dylan ended the call and turned to Rebecca, who was trying to find a good song on the radio. “Is there something you want to show me?”

“There are lots of things I want to show you.” Rebecca settled on a station that specialized in ’90s alternative rock. She bobbed her head to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” She didn’t know all the words yet, but the ones she did know she sang as loud as she could. “What do you want to see first?” she asked when the song ended.

Dylan was fascinated by Rebecca’s ability to seem innocent one moment and coquettish the next. Like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates, she never knew what she was going to get. She was looking forward to the day when she would finally be able to unwrap all the pieces.

The apartment was a fourth-floor walk-up a few blocks from the center of town. Dylan could see the signs for Grunewald’s and the diner from the fire escape outside the living room window. With a clear view of Grunewald’s parking lot, she would be able to see when the delivery truck arrived. Sweet.

The living room looked like a stereotypical college apartment or frat house—filled with mismatched furniture, half-empty pizza boxes, and crushed beer cans. A small TV sat atop a card table that did double duty as a TV stand and a catch-all.

“I know you probably think the room looks frightful, but I got tired of picking up after Marian and her friends. I’m supposed to be her roommate, not her maid. No matter how much time I spent straightening things up during the week, it took them only two seconds to mess everything up last night.”

“Marian never cleans up?” Dylan tried to determine if the furry brown object under the trash-laden coffee table was a discarded sock or an old banana peel.

“When she can’t find something she’s looking for, I give her about a week before she pulls out a trash bag and tosses all this stuff out.”

Dylan followed Rebecca into the kitchen. She could tell Marian didn’t hang out there because the room was spotless. The laminated counters were clean enough to eat off of. The cabinets were filled with canned goods and were well organized, everything in its place. The refrigerator, surprisingly, was empty. Rebecca had an explanation for that, too.

“If I put anything in there that doesn’t need to be cooked, it tends to disappear before I can have any. I keep a secret stash of fresh fruit and snacks in my room. Maybe you’ll have better luck with your roommate than I do with mine. Do you know who she is yet?”

“No, it’s too early. I don’t even know which dorm I’ve been assigned to yet. I suppose I’ll get something in the mail this summer unless the administration decides to wait and spring it on me during freshman orientation.”

“My room’s this way.”

Rebecca led Dylan to her bedroom, then closed and locked the door behind them.

Dylan took in the small room. It seemed similar to Rebecca’s room at the Lapps’ but was more open and relaxed, the mood brightened by a vase of flowers that sat on the window sill. The sun beat down on the colorful tulips, teasing them to open their blooms wider. A row of books lined the writing desk opposite the window. The titles were all over the place. Rebecca had everything from mysteries to true-life adventures to historical fiction to autobiographies. A dog-eared copy of John Krakauer’s Under the Banner of Heaven, the true story of two Mormon brothers who had committed murder on what they said were orders from God, rested on the end table next to the bed. Talk about your difficult reads.

Dylan was glad to see Rebecca was able to indulge her love of reading again. With her formal schooling complete and Mr. Lapp in charge of any additional education she received, her reading material had been limited to the Bible and religious tracts.

“Maybe you’ll have time to convince Willie to change her mind,” Rebecca said. “You could go to the same school and be roommates.”

Dylan returned For Whom the Bell Tolls to its place on the desk. “Not a chance. Willie has had her heart set on going to Bryn Mawr since she found out Katharine Hepburn went there. Surrounded by that many women, I probably won’t even see her until she graduates four years from now. If, that is, she doesn’t get her heart broken and flunk out first. Whoever I’m paired up with, I’m sure it will be an adventure.”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“The adventure, yes, but not being away from you. Though I may have found a way to make it easier.”

“How?”

Dylan reached into her pocket and pulled out a small key. She presented the key to Rebecca.

“What’s this?” Rebecca turned the key over and over in her hands.

“I got you a post office box in town. It’s in your name, so what goes in and out of it is your business and no one else’s. I already paid the first year’s rent so you won’t have to worry about that. Write me as often as you can. I’ll write back. This way, you won’t have to worry about anyone opening my letters by accident or intercepting your mail.”

Rebecca continued to stare at the key. A tiny object, to be sure, but one that held great promise. More than just the key to a box, it represented the key to a whole new life. It would provide a way to bring the world to Rebecca’s front door.

“Will you write me?” Dylan’s left hand rested on Rebecca’s waist. Her right brushed across Rebecca’s cheek.

“Every day.” Rebecca leaned into Dylan’s hand, enjoying the warmth and pressure of her touch. She removed her bonnet and unpinned her hair, letting the long locks fall in a free-flowing cascade. The wondrous sight never failed to take Dylan’s breath away. Swallowing hard, Dylan ran her hands through Rebecca’s hair, then cupped her face in her hands. Rebecca was even more striking in her everyday clothes than she was in her weekend ones. She seemed more relaxed. More at ease. She didn’t have to check to see what everyone else was doing and mimic their actions. She could be herself. She could do what came naturally. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

Dylan silenced Rebecca’s protests with a kiss. She initiated the contact, but Rebecca surprised her by being the aggressor. Before she knew it, she was on her back on the bed with Rebecca on top of her. She tried to slow things down when what she wanted to do was move forward. Their weekly make-out sessions left her simultaneously frustrated and hungry for more.

“We can’t,” she said, returning to what was becoming a constant refrain.

“Yes, we can.” Rebecca touched her lips to the side of Dylan’s neck. Her hands slipped under Dylan’s shirt and touched her bare skin. Dylan gasped and pulled Rebecca closer. Rebecca’s hips pressed down and Dylan’s rose to meet them. “Don’t you want to?”

Rebecca’s leg slipped between Dylan’s. Dylan found herself moving against it before she forced herself to stop. “You know I do.” Dylan fought to regain control of her emotions while her body sought to give in to sensation. “But we can’t.”

“Why not? It’s perfect. There’s no one here. We don’t have to be back for a while. Why not now?”

“Because I don’t want my first time with you to be spent waiting for the phone to ring or hoping we don’t hear footsteps coming up the stairs. For your birthday, I’ve booked us a two-night stay in one of Philadelphia’s best hotels. We can have dinner, go for a carriage ride, then go back to the room and—”

Rebecca placed her fingers over Dylan’s lips. “Do me a favor. Stop planning everything and just let it happen.”

“But—”

“My birthday is four months from now. Four months is a long time.” Rebecca reached up and unbuttoned her dress. “Do you really want to wait that long?”

Dylan watched wordlessly as Rebecca pulled her dress over her head. When Rebecca removed her slip as well, she let out a low moan. “Four months isn’t a long time,” she whispered. “It’s an eternity.”

Smiling, Rebecca lay back and watched Dylan undress. Dylan’s T-shirt and jeans joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Their underwear came next.

“Are you sure?” Dylan asked, giving Rebecca one more chance to change her mind.

Rebecca pushed a stray lock of hair behind Dylan’s left ear. Then she put her hand on the back of Dylan’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “We’re wasting time.”

Dylan lay on top of Rebecca, letting her get used to the feel of her weight and the idea of what they were about to do. She kept telling herself not to rush but, in the back of her mind, she knew they didn’t have much time. Her phone could ring at any second.

“Touch me.”

Hearing the longing in Rebecca’s voice, Dylan let go of the last strands of her uncertainty. She slowly slid her hands over Rebecca’s skin, feeling goose bumps trail in their wake. With her tongue, she carefully navigated each curve, committing each turn to memory. She intended to travel the route many more times.

Rebecca gasped when Dylan’s tongue curled around an erect nipple and she arched her back. Dylan sucked one breast for several minutes before turning to give the other equal attention. Then she reached down and touched the apex of Rebecca’s need.

“May I?” Dylan whispered, asking for permission to go further.

“Please.” Rebecca buried her face against the side of Dylan’s neck, her teeth nipping at the soft skin.

“Harder.” Dylan leaned into the pressure of Rebecca’s mouth. When she slipped her fingers into Rebecca’s center, Rebecca’s nails raked across her back and she cried out. Then Rebecca was touching her, too. Filling all the spaces that had once been hollow. Rebecca whined when Dylan took her hand away.

“I want to taste you.”

Dylan replaced her fingers with her tongue. When her mouth closed around Rebecca’s sensitive center, Rebecca’s body torqued at the foreign sensation. She wrapped her legs around Dylan’s waist so Dylan couldn’t get away.

Dylan lapped at Rebecca’s juices, drinking as greedily from her as someone who had stumbled upon an oasis after being lost in the desert. She moved her tongue faster and faster as Rebecca’s cries became higher pitched. Rebecca was close. So close. So was she.

She covered Rebecca’s body with hers, then parted Rebecca’s legs with one of her own and slipped it in between. They rode each other’s thighs until they were both screaming.

When it was over, they lay sprawled across the tangled sheets, chests heaving as they gasped for air.

Dylan pushed herself up on one elbow. “You’re rather persuasive when you want to be.”

Rebecca grinned. “Do you wish I weren’t?”

Dylan shook her head and trailed her finger down the center of Rebecca’s chest. “I love you.”

She wished she could shout the words from the nearest rooftop but she didn’t dare. No one could know what had just happened between her and Rebecca. Their lovemaking would have to remain a closely guarded secret. Their friendship was accepted—for now. The same could never be said for their love.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“No, this was my first time.”

“Was it—I mean, was I…any good?”

Dylan traced a finger over Rebecca’s lips. “You were perfect. No one is going to be able to wipe this smile off my face for a long time. If ever.”

Rebecca lay with her head on Dylan’s chest. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

“And the day after and the day after that.”

They kissed. Idly, at first. Then with mounting passion. Dylan groaned in frustration when her cell phone rang. She reached for the phone. And nearly dropped it when Rebecca placed a warm hand on her breast.

“Don’t answer it.”

Dylan reluctantly removed Rebecca’s hand. “I have to. It’s probably Mr. Grunewald calling to tell us the order’s ready.” She reached for the phone and pressed it to her ear. “What’s up, Mr. G?”

“Where are you?”

“Dad?” Dylan sat bolt upright in bed as if her father were in the same room instead of on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” he repeated.

“At Rebecca’s.” Dylan could hear loud voices in the background but assumed her father was calling from the work site. The men must really be anxious to receive the order. She frantically motioned for Rebecca to gather their clothes. “We’re waiting for Mr. Grunewald to call. Didn’t Mom tell you?”

“Yeah, she did, but that doesn’t matter now. Just get back here as soon as you can.”

Dylan didn’t like the way her father sounded. It reminded her of the night he’d told her about TJ. An icicle of fear chilled her heart. “What’s wrong?” She hurriedly put on her bra and panties as Rebecca did the same. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s here. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Just get back here as soon as you can, okay?”

Dylan climbed out of bed and held the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she stepped into her jeans. “Bullshit, Dad. You know I can always tell when something’s up with you.”

“Dylan, I don’t have time to get into it now. For once, just do what I say and don’t ask me any questions, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Dylan ended the call.

Rebecca’s face was ashen. “What’s wrong?”

Dylan shrugged and slipped her arms through the sleeves of her T-shirt. “He wouldn’t tell me. But whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Rebecca pinned her hair up and covered it with her bonnet. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“You and me both.”

Chapter Eight

Dylan accelerated, urging the truck past the caravan of buggies clogging the road.

“Do you think there’s been an accident?” Rebecca reached for something to hold on to when Dylan made the turn onto Sarah and Joshua’s road on two wheels.

“If there had been an accident, everyone would be heading to Sarah and Joshua’s place instead of away from it.”