Rum Spring (4 page)

Rebecca blushed. “I’ve never been called gorgeous before. What am I supposed to say?”

“How about thank you?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What do you want to do tonight?”

“Don’t you have anything special in mind? What about The List?”

“The List can wait. This is your night, not mine.”

“Maybe we could go to Casey for a while. Perhaps it’s best if I stick with my own.”

My own. Dylan latched onto the words. Why did their lives have to be separate? Hers. Mine. Why couldn’t it be theirs?

“I thought rumspringa was about pushing past your boundaries, not remaining inside them.”

“It is, but we don’t have to push them tonight, do we? I don’t want to end up like Sarah, forced to marry before I’m ready.”

“Do you think she made a mistake?”

“I don’t, but if she does, that could explain the unease I sense in her soul.”

Dylan looked at Rebecca out of the corner of her eye. “When do you think you’ll be ready to get married?”

“Not for a while yet. Four years, at least.”

“Four years can seem like a long time when you’re looking forward to something, but time passes in the blink of an eye.”

“That’s why it’s so important I make the right decisions now. I don’t want to make a choice I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting.”

“Is that what Sarah’s doing?”

“She doesn’t seem as happy as I thought she would be, but Joshua is a good man. Sarah made the right choice when she decided to marry him.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t feel the same way. Only she knows what’s best for her. The same way only you know what’s best for you and only I know what’s best for me.”

“What do you think is best for you?”

“Freedom. Freedom of choice. Freedom to love who I want and how I want.”

Rebecca frowned. “Don’t you want to get married and have children?”

Dylan hesitated, unsure whether she should answer the question or deflect it. The rules of Rebecca’s religion forbade many things and allowed limited use of others. Alcohol was okay in moderation, smoking was tolerated as long as there were no cigarettes involved, and so on and so on. The rules on homosexuality, however, were unequivocal. Expressing romantic love for someone of the same sex was expressly forbidden.

Dylan turned on her blinker and pulled her car to the side of the road. Ahead of her, a string of taillights continued to head out of town.

“Why are you stopping? We aren’t there yet.”

“I want to tell you something first. After I do, I’ll gladly take you anywhere you want to go—even if it’s away from me.”

“You’re one of my closest friends. Why would I want to leave you?”

“You might not have a choice.”

Dylan looked down at her hands. Her fingers gripped each other so tightly her knuckles were white.

Rebecca placed her hands on top of Dylan’s. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“I would say nothing’s wrong, but your father and the rest of your church might not agree.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I get married—and I do want to get married—it will be to a woman instead of a man.” Dylan waited for her words to sink in. “Do you understand what I mean by that?”

“You’re saying you like girls instead of boys. You’re saying you would prefer to commit yourself to a woman instead of a man.”

Rebecca’s voice was flat, betraying no emotion. Dylan examined Rebecca’s face but couldn’t unravel the mystery hidden in Rebecca’s brown eyes. “How does that make you feel?”

Rebecca fidgeted in her seat but didn’t let go of Dylan’s hand. Dylan was grateful for the continued contact. If Rebecca didn’t shy away, that meant there was still hope. There was still a chance what she was feeling wasn’t one-sided.

“Papa says it’s wrong for a man to lie with a man as he would a woman. He says it’s wrong for a woman to love a woman as she would a man.”

“I’m not asking you what your father thinks. What do you think?”

“I think I’ll love you no matter who you choose to spend your life with.”

Dylan’s heart skittered when she heard Rebecca use the verb love in a sentence in which she was the object. “What if I said I wanted that someone to be you?”

Rebecca pulled her hand away. “Are you— Do you think I am like you?”

“I was hoping you were.”

Rebecca leaned against the passenger door. As the physical distance between them widened, Dylan felt the emotional chasm grow as well.

“Have I ever shown any sign that I might feel as you do?” Rebecca asked.

“That day in the cornfield, I thought—I hoped—there might be something between us. A spark that could grow into something bigger than either of us ever imagined. When I go to bed each night, your face is the last thing I see. When I wake up each morning, your name is on my lips. My father tried to tell me not to think of this as a date, but—”

“Your father knows about you?”

“My parents and I talk about everything. We always have.”

“When you told them, they didn’t…punish you?”

“No, they loved me. So would yours.”

Rebecca looked out the window. “My parents aren’t like yours. They can’t be. They love me, but there are rules they must follow.”

“Do those rules say your parents have to stop loving you if you do something that displeases them? I doubt that. You’re their daughter. They’ll love you no matter what you do. Maybe our parents are more alike than you think. Maybe you and I are, too.”

Dylan held out her hand. Time stopped while she waited for Rebecca to respond. If Rebecca took her hand, it would mean the beginning. If she didn’t, it would be the end. After what seemed like an eternity, Rebecca bridged the distance between them. Her palm slid across Dylan’s. When Dylan spread her fingers, Rebecca curled hers around them and squeezed. Rebecca’s grip felt strong and sure. It felt like acceptance. Dylan’s heart sprouted wings and threatened to fly out of her chest.

“So do you want me to take you home, or are you ready to party?”

Rebecca giggled. “Let’s party.”

Dylan eased back into traffic. She felt like she and Rebecca had just passed their first test. How would they do on the next one?

“Can we go shopping tomorrow?” Rebecca picked at a seam on the baggy jeans. “I can’t possibly borrow your clothes every weekend. I’ll need some of my own.”

“Of course we can go. I’ll invite Mom along. I’m sure she would love to have a girls’ day out. We haven’t had one in years. If I ask nicely, I think I could convince her to take us to the spa for massages and mud baths.”

“A mud bath?” Rebecca wrinkled her nose. “I can get one of those on the farm.”

Dylan laughed, glad to see Rebecca was finally starting to get comfortable. “It’s not the same. This one is a lot more expensive. It smells a lot better, too.”

Dylan pulled into the parking lot of the Kwik Stop, where Marian was holding court with four boys huddled around a battered Trans Am. Dressed in tight jeans and a short top that bared her navel, Marian flirted brazenly with each of the boys. They competed for her attention. “Relax, fellas,” she said when the competition threatened to turn physical. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“I wish I could be more like her,” Rebecca said. “Wild and free and unafraid. She’s always willing to speak her mind and do or say whatever is on it.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

Marian headed over to Dylan’s car and knocked on the driver’s side window. Dylan pressed the switch that lowered the glass. Marian leaned inside, her unfettered breasts nearly spilling out of her shirt. “Nice car.” Her words were already slurred even though it was barely nine o’clock.

“Thanks.”

Rebecca noticed Dylan leaning away from the smell of alcohol on Marian’s breath. Marian was just nineteen, but she looked twice that as years of hard partying started to take a toll on her prematurely haggard face.

Dylan often referred to rumspringa as Rum Spring since so many participants used the opportunity to introduce themselves to drinking. For Marian, it was more like Rum Spring, Rum Summer, Rum Fall, and Rum Winter.

Marian looked over at Rebecca. “Having fun, little simmie?”

Simmies was the term used to describe the kids who were new to rumspringa. The older kids made fun of them because the young ones were so anxious to prove they belonged they usually ended up embarrassing themselves by trying too hard to fit in. Meaning “foolish in the head,” the label was one Rebecca wanted to be rid of as soon as possible. “So far.”

“Just wait,” Marian said. “It gets better. As long as you’re able to hold your liquor, you’ll be fine. If you’re anything like Sarah, that shouldn’t be a problem for you. I haven’t seen much of her lately. How is she?”

Rebecca held back an exasperated sigh. Marian asked her the same question every time they saw each other. Perhaps Marian thought the answer would change one day and she wanted to be there when it did. Rebecca didn’t know what had happened to cause Sarah and Marian’s falling-out—she and Marian were now closer than Sarah and Marian were—but she wished they would make things up so she wouldn’t feel caught in the middle.

“She’s fine,” Rebecca replied, parroting the same answer she always gave. “Her son keeps her pretty busy. He’s a real handful.”

“I’m sure,” Marian said. “Isaiah looks just like his father, don’t you think, Dylan?”

“To me, he looks more like Sarah.”

“Sarah has fine, straight hair. Joshua, too. Isaiah has a head full of curls. Where do you think they came from?”

“I think they’re a gift from God,” Rebecca said.

“You’re probably right,” Marian said. “You usually are about such things. Are Sarah and Joshua still staying at your uncle’s place?”

“For a few more months, then they’re going to get a place of their own.” Dylan looked confused, so Rebecca tried to fill in the gaps in her knowledge. “When Sarah and Joshua first got married, they planned to live with Mama and Papa for a few months before finding a place to call their own. When spring arrived, the price of land was so high they couldn’t afford to buy the lot they had their eye on. They didn’t want to keep imposing on Mama and Papa, so they moved in with Uncle Amos. He has never married and he doesn’t have any children. He lives in a big house all by himself. I was glad when Sarah and Joshua moved in with him because it meant he wouldn’t have to be alone all the time. I don’t get to spend as much time with Sarah, Joshua, and Isaiah as I would like. Most days, I only see Sarah and Joshua in passing—before work when they arrive to help with the chores on the farm and after work when they’re headed home.”

“You’ll see plenty of them at the barn raising next year. Make sure you invite me, okay? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Marian returned her attention to Dylan. “Do you have a boyfriend, English?”

Rebecca sat straighter in her seat, anxious to hear the answer. Marian was a gossip. If Dylan told her she was gay, the word would spread like wildfire. Rebecca could be considered guilty by suspicion.

“Why do you want to know?” Dylan asked.

“Because my little brother wants to ask you out.” Marian pointed out her brother Zeke, who was coming out of the convenience store carrying two bags filled with junk food. “He has a thing for English girls. English boys like Amish girls because we know how to party. English girls like Amish boys because they have lots of money.”

“So why does your brother like me?”

“He thinks you’re cute.” Marian shrugged as if to say there was no accounting for taste.

“Tell him thanks but, yes, I am seeing someone.”

“What’s his name?”

“Willie.”

“Little Willie or Big Willie?” Marian asked suggestively.

“I wouldn’t know yet. We’re taking it slow.”

“If you say so. Did Rebecca tell you we’re thinking of renting an apartment in town?”

“No, she didn’t say anything about it.” Dylan looked over at Rebecca for confirmation.

“It’s Marian’s idea. Moving into town would put us closer to work and it would make life more convenient for both of us.”

“We just have to convince her father that it’s a good idea.”

The boys in the Trans Am honked the horn, signaling that everyone was ready to go.

“It’s time to go, simmie,” Marian said. “Let’s see if you can keep up.” She skipped over to the Trans Am, climbed in the front seat, and sat in a dark-haired boy’s lap.

Dylan turned her key in the ignition but left the car in neutral. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know, but I want to.” Rebecca felt like she had something to prove—to Dylan, to Marian, and to herself.

Dylan watched Rebecca drain her second cup of Blue Hawaii—pineapple juice spiked with liberal doses of vodka, coconut rum, and blue Curacao—and tried to determine whether Rebecca would get sick before, during, or after she drove her home. Dylan was leaning toward before. To her credit, Rebecca was holding out longer than the other simmies—who were puking their guts out all over the field—but Dylan didn’t think Rebecca would be able to last much longer. The fragrant concoction in her cup looked like glass cleaner and smelled like fermented fruit. Dylan hadn’t drunk any but she felt like she had a contact high from the fumes.

The hoedown was much bigger than she had expected it to be. Nearly five hundred people were spread around the huge bonfire that dominated the field and made the hot August night even hotter. Music blasted from portable stereos hooked to car batteries.

Near the edge of the cornfield, a couple of English boys had erected a makeshift stand and were doing a brisk business selling marijuana, cocaine, and homemade crystal meth. As an added bonus, the entrepreneurs threw in free glow-in-the-dark condoms if the purchase exceeded twenty dollars. Dylan watched as several couples, prophylactics in hand, disappeared into the pitch-black rows of corn or sneaked into the barn that sat atop the hill on the other side of the field.

Though unsteady on her feet, Marian managed to make her way across the rutted cornfield without spilling a drop from the three cups of punch in her hands. “Ready for a drink, English?”

“It’s Dylan,” Dylan said, tired of feeling like an outsider. “And no, thank you.”

“Sorry, your highness. I didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.”