Rum Spring (2 page)

She took Rebecca’s hands in her hers, then sat her down and tried to put in words what had happened.

“I don’t have all the details. I only know what I heard on the radio and on the scanner in Dad’s truck. The guy on the radio said the story was still developing, but it’s bad.”

“How bad?”

“A couple of hours ago, a man drove to the school in Nickel Mines and barricaded himself and ten girls inside.” Rebecca tightened her grip on Dylan’s hands. Dylan hesitated, uncertain if she should go on. She forced herself to move forward, knowing it was too late to turn back. “The man shot each of the girls, then turned the gun on himself.”

Rebecca’s face turned ghostly pale. “Is he— Are they—”

Dylan tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. “The man and several of the girls died at the scene. The rest of the girls were taken to the hospital, but I don’t know what condition they’re in. My dad and I passed dozens of ambulances and news crews on the road. It’s a madhouse out there.”

“How could anyone do such a thing?”

“I wish I knew.” In Dylan’s opinion, no explanation was reason enough to prompt an action so heinous. “I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t know why she was apologizing, but it felt like the right thing to do. The right thing to say. She had to let Rebecca know not all English were bad. Not all of them wished her people harm or made fun of them and their ways. She didn’t profess to understand their traditions, but she was sure the Amish probably felt the same way about some of hers.

She held her hand against Rebecca’s cheek. She couldn’t stop touching her—and she didn’t want to. She had to keep proving to herself that Rebecca was real and what she was feeling wasn’t a mirage. She wanted to hold Rebecca in her arms and never let go. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t the time or the place. Not after what had transpired only a few miles away.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked.

Rebecca nodded but didn’t speak. She was fine physically, but what about emotionally? The Amish were pacifists. Opposed to war, the military, and all forms of violence, they were a peace-loving people. How would she—and they—recover from the shock of something so violent happening to ten of their own? What would it mean for their friendship? Would Dylan and the rest of the English become someone to vilify, or would their two worlds continue to coexist?

Hot tears rolled down Dylan’s cheeks, mirroring the ones that glistened on Rebecca’s. Dylan’s tears were born of relief that the precious friend she feared she had lost had been found to be unharmed. Dylan thought Rebecca was crying for the victims—innocent girls she had grown up with and seen almost every day. Some girls who were gone forever and others who, if they survived, would never be the same again. She moved to comfort Rebecca, to put her arms around her and take the sorrow away, but what Rebecca said surprised her.

“Can you imagine the kind of pain he must have been in to commit such an act? We should be grateful his soul is at peace now.”

“Grateful? For what he did, he deserves punishment, not peace.”

“That isn’t for my people to decide,” Rebecca said softly. “He is not one of us, so we are not allowed to judge him or his actions. Our judgment is limited to those who have pledged to follow the Ordnung. He did not make such a pledge. Therefore, we must forgive this man, not judge him.”

Dylan rocked back on her haunches, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Then why are you crying?” She barely knew the girls and it was all she could do to keep it together. To keep from taking out some of the pain and frustration she felt on someone else.

“I’m crying because it hurts to forgive, but I know it is what we must do.”

Dylan, who had never professed to understand Rebecca, now looked at her as if she had never seen her before. She felt, for lack of a better word, unworthy. She felt like the bond she and Rebecca shared went much deeper than friendship. It went beyond life. And beyond death. But could it outlast the church?

Dylan wiped away Rebecca’s tears with her thumb.

“I almost lost you today.” The thought terrified her. So did the idea that, in a few years, her friendship with Rebecca would have to come to an end. After Rebecca joined the church, her forays into Dylan’s world would become even more limited than they already were. The rules that governed Rebecca’s religion would curtail her interactions with people not of her faith.

“Do you think I could stay with you tonight?” Dylan asked.

Rebecca wanted nothing more, but she knew her father would not allow it. He had granted permission for Dylan to sleep over on rare occasions, but Rebecca didn’t think that night would be one of those times. If she knew her father like she thought she did, he was making plans to visit the families and offer them words of comfort. She didn’t know if he would want his family to accompany him, but she had to be available in case he did. More likely, she and her mother were about to spend endless hours in the kitchen preparing meals for the affected families so they would have one less thing to worry about.

Dylan held Rebecca’s face in her hands. She lowered her head until their foreheads touched. “I don’t want to leave you. Please don’t make me.” She drew herself up to her knees and pulled Rebecca into another hug.

Dylan’s arms were around her neck, squeezing tight and getting tighter, but Rebecca didn’t think that was the only reason she felt so light-headed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she brought her arms up and circled them around Dylan’s waist. She had hugged Dylan before, but she had never held her. Not like this. Not with their bodies touching up and down and their hearts racing at light speed. Racing in time. Holding Dylan this way felt different. It felt good. Rebecca didn’t want to let go. She wanted to hold on to her forever. She turned to smell Dylan’s auburn hair. It smelled like fresh green apples and sunshine. Better than any perfume.

Dylan rested her forehead against Rebecca’s once more. “May I stay?”

Rebecca stared at Dylan’s full lips, just inches away from her own. She wanted to know how they would feel pressed against hers. What it would be like to feel them part and—

“What are you doing?”

Sarah’s shrill voice cut through Rebecca’s reverie. “N-n-nothing,” Rebecca stammered as she and Dylan hastily moved apart.

“I was just—” Dylan began, but Sarah cut her off.

“Mr. Mahoney asked me to come and get you. He says it’s time for you to go.”

“So soon?” Dylan scrambled to her feet and brushed dirt off her jeans.

“Not soon enough, if you ask me,” Sarah said under her breath. She grabbed Rebecca by the arm and roughly pulled her to her feet. “Mama needs you up at the house. She wants you to help her make chicken and corn soup to send with Papa.”

“Where is he going?” Rebecca asked, even though she had a good idea what the answer would be.

“He and Peterli are going to visit the Englishman’s widow.” Sarah’s words dripped with scorn.

“What about Uncle Amos?” Rebecca had assumed Uncle Amos or his fellow minister would accompany their father on such a mission. Peterli was just a deacon and a newly ordained one at that. Uncle Amos had been a minister for over twenty years, Joshua’s father Micah for almost fifteen.

“He’s gone home to prepare a sermon on forgiveness. He and Mr. King are going to lead a special service tonight to honor the ones who were killed.” Sarah turned to Dylan. She rubbed her belly as if she sought to calm the child growing inside her, but her words were far from soothing.

“I don’t know what my sister sees in you. Because your mother sells Rebecca’s quilts to outsiders who think my people are nothing more than a tourist attraction doesn’t mean we have to put up with you hanging around all the time, does it? Don’t you have better things to do? Other friends you could spend time with? Or are you smiling in our faces and laughing behind our backs like all the others? Go home, English. We don’t need you here. Hasn’t your kind done enough today?”

Rebecca had never heard Sarah say such harsh words to anyone, Amish or English. She rushed to defend Dylan. “Dylan had nothing to do with what happened at the school. She doesn’t deserve such spite. No one does.”

“Some deserve a lot more.” Sarah’s expression was one of defiance. “Well,” she said when Rebecca and Dylan didn’t move, “what are you waiting for?”

Rebecca and Dylan dutifully began walking toward the house, Sarah close behind. Their fathers were shaking hands when the girls approached.

“I insist on paying you, Thomas Mahoney,” Rebecca’s father said, wiping his sweaty brow with a cotton handkerchief.

Rebecca quickly surmised Mr. Mahoney had agreed to drive Papa and her cousin Peterli to Nickel Mines. Though the Amish could not own cars, they were allowed to ride in them. For journeys that covered long distances and could not be feasibly made via horse-drawn carriage, they often paid their English neighbors to drive them.

Mr. Mahoney held up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of charging you. Not for something like this. And please, call me Thomas. All the other families do.”

“We are not like the other families. In this house, we pay respect where it’s due.”

“Daddy,” Dylan asked, “may I stay until you get back?”

Mr. Mahoney held out his arm, an apparent sign he wanted Dylan to join him at his side.

“Your mother closed the shop early today,” he said. “She’s already on her way home. I’m sure she wants to spend as much quality time with you as she can. I’ll see you in an hour, Samuel.”

Her father raised his arm in a gesture of farewell. “An hour it is.” He ushered Sarah and Rebecca toward the house.

Dylan broke away from her father, ran up the steps, and drew Rebecca into her arms in a bear hug so strong it would have taken five grown men to pull them apart.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered in Rebecca’s ear. “I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you.” She kissed Rebecca on the cheek and ran back to the truck.

Dylan’s head swam as her father drove them home. She had been attracted to girls for as long as she could remember, but this was different. This was Rebecca. This was someone she could never have. Did Rebecca feel the same way? Even if she did, it made no difference. An English and an Amish couldn’t be together. Everyone knew it was against the Ordnung. But was it possible? Could she and Rebecca be together? Dylan had never wanted anything more.

Chapter Two

Two years later

Dylan consulted The List. She thought of it in capital letters because it was that important. It had started out as one page of scribbled notes that quickly became two, then five, then ten. She eventually migrated it to a notebook—a leather-bound tome she kept with her at all times. The List consisted of all the things she wanted to share with Rebecca. All the things she wanted to experience with her but couldn’t because of the strict rules that guided Rebecca’s faith.

The List encompassed everything from the mundane to the magnificent. The simple to the sublime. From food to drinks to movies to travel destinations to everything in between. Some of the things on The List would be easy to accomplish, others virtually impossible. Money was a factor, but so was time.

As The List grew, Dylan realized it would take the rest of her life to cross off all the items. Limited to three days a week for the next few years, she and Rebecca wouldn’t have that long. They would always be playing catch-up. Unless—

Dylan stopped herself before the fantasy went too far. Because that’s what it was. A fantasy. She and Rebecca would have four years. Five at the most. They could spend every weekend together with no one to tell them what they could and could not do. For once, the rules would not apply. But what about after that? What would they do when Rebecca inevitably decided to “join church”? Dylan didn’t want to think that far ahead. Not yet. She forced herself to put thoughts of the future in the back of her mind. She had been waiting two years for this day. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil it.

Flipping through the pages of her journal, she tried to decide what to do first. It was a no-brainer, really. The first thing they had to do was watch Witness, the achingly romantic 1985 drama starring Harrison Ford as an undercover police officer who falls in love with Amish widow Kelly McGillis as he tries to protect her and her son Lukas Haas from vengeful dirty cops. Dylan had seen the movie dozens of times. Each time, she found herself wishing the ending were different. That instead of driving away, Harrison’s character John Book would hit the brakes, put the car in reverse, and turn around. It’s what she would have done. If she ever established bonds that strong, she would never let them break. Not for anything or anyone.

Dylan ran her finger down the list of movies. Maybe they could start with Bound, the 2000 thriller with an ending they wouldn’t have to handicap. No, despite the unquestioned charms of Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon, the plot was too violent for Rebecca’s first time out. The bloodshed would probably remind Rebecca of that awful day in Nickel Mines. A day Dylan and everyone she knew would always remember but longed to forget.

Desert Hearts would probably be better. Patricia Charbonneau and Helen Shaver falling in love in 1950s Nevada and looking hot while they did it. Or perhaps Casablanca, followed by To Have and Have Not and The Philadelphia Story. Who could provide a better introduction to the magic of cinema than acting legends like Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and Bogie and Bacall?

Dylan was a film buff of the highest order. She could name the release date, director, and stars of every noteworthy film since the medium was invented. Instead of the latest teen idols, posters of classic movies covered her walls. To feed her habit, she had a part-time job as an usher in a theater in her Lancaster hometown. Tearing tickets in half wasn’t the most exciting way to earn spending money, but during breaks, she got to sneak up to the projection room and watch movies while she kept her friend Willie company.

Minus the thick black glasses and pierced eyebrow, Wilhelmina “Willie” Sgoda was a dead ringer for Anne Hathaway, the comely star of 2001’s The Princess Diaries and 2006’s The Devil Wears Prada. In addition to working together at the Rialto Cinema, Dylan and Willie were also colleagues on their high school newspaper, where Willie was a photographer and Dylan a columnist.