The Rebel (19 page)

She kept a firm hold on her unruly imagination at the image
that presented, not looking up into his face. “I'm sure Linda believes in keeping a clean house,” she said.

“She has all the virtues,” he said, seeming to agree. “She's neat, a good cook, gentle with the children, efficient in getting things done.”

“What else could you ask for?” She kept her gaze fixed on his shirt front.

“She does seem to be a little lacking when it comes to . . . well, to fun.”

Barbie couldn't help it. She looked up, finding that his eyes were laughing at her. A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “You mean she's missing my only gift?”

“Exactly. Abram says she's very nice but not as much fun as Barbie.”

“And here I thought you didn't approve of fun,” she teased.

“Maybe I've learned to appreciate it lately,” he said. His fingers brushed hers, making her want to clasp his hand and intertwine her fingers with his.

“It's never too late.” Or was it? If Ben knew she'd been out on a date with an Englischer, kissing in a car even, he'd soon decide that all the fun in the world wasn't worth an association with a woman like her.

That was what she wanted, wasn't it? The sensible part of her brain told her so. But his fingers were holding hers, and just his touch was far more powerful than Terry's experienced kisses.

“I hope it isn't.” His voice deepened. “I want . . .” He stopped, seeming to assess what he was about to say. “I want what's best for those I love,” he said, and she sensed those were not the words that had been on his tongue a moment ago. He drew his hand back slowly.

He was coming to his senses, obviously. Realizing that giving in to temptation where Barbie was concerned would be a serious error and one he'd regret.

And she didn't want to be anybody's regret. She cast around for something to say and realized she'd never told him about the second note, even though she'd promised.

“I . . . There's something I've been meaning to tell you.” Since when did she start stammering around a man? As Ashlee would say, she'd better get a grip. “About that note.”

He was instantly alert, his eyes narrowing, his expression growing serious. “What about it?”

“There's been another one. Not at work this time. This one had been put into our mailbox at home.”

“What did it say?”

She shrugged. “About the same as the last one. Nothing very specific. I have it in my bag if you want to see it.”

“If? For sure I want to see it. If a soul in my care is sending anonymous letters, I must deal with it.”

There was the uncompromising Benuel she knew. Good. It should be easier to resist her feelings for him, although this time he seemed intent on defending her.

Reaching into the buggy, Barbie retrieved her bag and took out the note, handing it to him. “I thought of destroying it, but you said to tell you if any more came. I've been trying to get to the mailbox before Daad every day, but there hasn't been anything else.”

“When did it come?” He was staring at the note, an intense frown drawing down his eyebrows. His jaw was tight, and a little muscle seemed to twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“A couple of days ago, more or less.” She watched him reading
it, feeling cold despite the warmth of the day. “I hate the thought that someone is watching me with . . . well, with ill will.”

He was so intent on the note that he didn't immediately respond. And when he did look at her, his face had tightened into a mask that gave away nothing at all. “I want to keep this. Will you trust me with it for now?”

She nodded, wondering what he saw in the words that would make him look so stricken. And then she knew. He wouldn't look that way unless he had a very good idea who had written the note.

Alarmed by his expression, she reached a tentative hand toward him. “Ben, what is it? Who . . .”

He shook his head with a curt movement and turned away. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't intend to tell her.

•   •   •

Ben
was hardly able to keep his mind on the discussion of the upholstery samples, and he couldn't escape soon enough. That note Barbie had received seemed to be burned into his brain.

As soon as he was on the way home, he pulled out the letter. The envelope had not been through the postal system. Someone had dropped it in the Lapps' mailbox. Only Barbie's name appeared on the outside.

Letting the gelding have his head, Ben pulled out the note. The wording was similar to what she'd remembered of the first one. But the writing—he couldn't be mistaken, could he?

He took a deep breath, trying to focus his thoughts. To accuse someone groundlessly would be a terrible wrong. But to allow one of his own flock to continue in an action that was hurtful and unkind was also wrong.

Especially if that person was family.

His heart wanted to reject what he was thinking. But he couldn't. He couldn't, because he had a terrible certainty that the person who'd written it was his own sister. Sarah.

He offered up a silent prayer for guidance. Then he picked up the lines and turned the horse toward his sister's place.

This was actually a good time to stop by, since he must talk with Sarah privately. Her husband would be at work with the construction crew, and the children would be at school. He certain-sure didn't want anyone to hear what he had to say to her, whether he was wrong or right.

He pulled up by the kitchen door and stepped down, pausing for a moment's silent prayer—for guidance, for tact, and especially for kindness. He couldn't allow the fierce anger he felt for this persecution of Barbie to influence how he spoke to Sarah, either as a brother or as a minister.

The back door opened. “Ben.” Sarah's welcoming smile turned quickly to a look of alarm. “Is something wrong? Daad?”

“No, no, Daad's fine.”

“Mary, then. What has she done now?”

He'd long-regretted letting Sarah know anything at all about Mary's teenage rebellion. At least she didn't know the whole of it. Only he, Daad, and Barbie knew that secret.

“Mary is well. Working hard at the farm-stay, according to Rebecca, and they're pleased with her.” He let Sarah usher him into the kitchen, where she automatically turned to the stove and began pouring coffee into a mug.

“Still seems silly to me for Mary to be working at someone else's place while you have to hire someone to help out at home.
I've told you and told you that I can spend more time at home now that my kinder are all in school.”

She had offered her help, but he and Daad agreed it just wouldn't do. No matter how fine her intentions, Sarah just couldn't help bossing people around.

“Daad wanted Mary to have some experience working for someone else.” He skirted around the fact that the idea of relieving Mary of some of her responsibilities at home had actually come from Barbie. “Anyway, I didn't come to talk to you about Mary.”

He put the coffee mug down, the coffee untasted. “Sit down, please, Sarah.”

Surprised, and not exactly pleased, his sister took the chair across from him. “Well, what is it, then? If it's not bad news . . .”

“If you can be still a moment, I'll tell you.” Anger flared, and he fought to control it. He pulled out the envelope addressed to Barbie and laid it on the table between them. “Did you write this?”

Ben saw the truth in her face before she even began to deny it.

“What is it? A letter to Barbie Lapp? Why should I be writing to Barbie Lapp, of all people?”

“That's a gut question. Did you write it?” He attempted to hold her gaze, but she looked down dismissively at the envelope.

“No.” She blinked several times, evading his direct gaze.

He shook his head. “It's no use, Sarah. You look the way you did as a little girl, assuring Daad you'd remembered to close the chicken pen. You were lying then, and you're lying now.”

Sarah pulled herself up. “That's a fine thing to say to your own sister. Accusing me of lying. Next thing you know—”

“It's your printing.” He threw the words at her. “Do you think I don't know it after all these years? You wrote threatening notes to Barbie.”

She stared down at the envelope, her face set. Finally her gaze met his, defiance in every line of her face. “What if I did? Someone has to make that girl see how far she is straying. You should be doing it. You're the minister.”

That hit close to home, as she must have known it would. But his responsibility and her guilt were two different things. “Blaming someone else doesn't make your guilt any the less. What do you think the rest of the Leit would say of such an act? It's not your job to judge a sister in the faith.”

“A sister in the faith?” Sarah's face reddened. “And how long is she going to be one? Anyone who looks at her can see that Barbie Lapp is well on her way to jumping the fence, just like her older brother did. She'll break her parents' hearts and never look back.”

“Stoppe.” He barked out the command. “You don't know what you're saying. You don't know anything at all about Barbie, and you've no call to say such a thing.”

“Don't know? I know what half the church knows.” Sarah's voice rose. “There she is, working in an Englisch business, making Englisch friends. Flirting with the customers. For all you know, she's probably going out drinking with them.”

Going out drinking. Barbie had certain-sure done that, but if she hadn't, only the good Lord knew what might have happened to Mary that night. But Sarah didn't know that part of it, and he couldn't tell her.

“Gossiping. Spreading rumors. Thinking ill of a sister. I wouldn't have thought it was possible for you to behave that
way. And if you want to talk about a parent's hurt, think about how Daad would feel if he knew.”

She moved uncomfortably on her seat. “Daad is just as blind as you are.” Her lips twisted. “Let a pretty woman smile and talk sweet, and you're ready to believe anything she says.”

There'd been nothing sweet about the way Barbie talked to him. Tart, maybe. “That's foolishness, and you know it.”

“It's not foolish.” Her anger seemed to propel Sarah out of her chair. She stood, hands planted on the table, fury distorting her face. “It's the truth. And this is the person you picked out to guide my little sister. Barbie Lapp! She'll guide Mary right out of the faith with her if you're not careful.”

He stood as well, equally angry.

“You're wrong about Barbie. And even if you were right, it doesn't excuse what you did.” He grabbed the note, shaking it at her. “This is not how we solve problems. Do you want me to share this with the bishop? The other ministers?”

“Go ahead.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I'm not ashamed of anything I've done, which is more than Barbie Lapp can say.”

Ben tried to pretend this wasn't the sister who had guided his first stumbling steps. What would he say if this were any other of the Leit?

The question helped him regain control. “You must make amends. Tell Barbie you wrote the letters. Ask her forgiveness.”

“I won't.” Sarah seemed to bite off the words. “And I don't think you'll be eager to tell the bishop about this, will you? That would let everyone know what your precious Barbie has been up to.”

“You have made a grave error already, Sarah. Don't
compound it now by stubbornness.” When she would have spoken, he held up his hand. “No. Don't say anything more now. Think about this, and pray. We'll talk again when you've done so.”

He turned and walked away, anger and pain battling in his heart. This might be a breach between them that would never heal.

B
arbie
had to smile at the picture Ashlee made, sitting at the supper table that night between Daad, at the end of the table, and her brother David. Ashlee had, without any prompting, worn a pretty but buttoned-up blouse with a denim skirt. She seemed a bit in awe of Daad, but David was getting her to warm up quickly.

“So how is our Barbie at work?” he asked her with a mischievous glance at Barbie. “Is she flirting with all the men?”

“Well, I . . . I wouldn't exactly—” Clearly Ashlee didn't know how to answer that one without incriminating anybody.

“It's okay, Ashlee,” she said. “My little brother isn't happy unless he's teasing me. And it's not flirting to smile and be friendly to customers, is it?”

David grinned. “It is the way you do it. You don't have to answer, Ashlee. We all know Barbie's been flirting since she figured out she could get Daadi to pick her up if she batted her big blue eyes at him.”

“Ach, and who wouldn't want to pick up a pretty little daughter after all those rough boys,” Daad said.

“Besides,” her brother Zeb put in, “David got spoiled plenty by Mammi, being the baby.”

“I never spoiled any of my kinder,” Mamm said, not quite accurately. “Now, who has saved enough room for pie?”

“I'll get it.” Zeb's wife, Esther, got to her feet and gathered her three daughters from the end of the table with a quick glance.

Anna, Debbie, and Katie obediently started removing plates. Hard as it was to believe, Zeb and Esther's three girls were in their early teens already. Pretty as they were, Zeb was going to have to beat the boys off with a stick in a few years.

“Your pretty girls look so much alike it's hard to tell them apart,” Ashlee said.

“That they do.” Zeb couldn't seem to help a little pride in his voice. “Like their mother.”

“What about us?” Sammy, the youngest boy, piped up.

“You don't want to be pretty,” his next older brother informed him from the wisdom of his seven years. “That's for girls.”

Barbie leaned over to give little Sammy a quick hug. “Boys are strong.”

“I'm strong, Aunt Barbie,” he said, returning the hug. “See how big a hug I can give.”

“You sure can.” She dropped a kiss on his flaxen hair, feeling a rush of tenderness. Funny. She hadn't given a thought to having kinder of her own until the past month or two. Now it seemed to keep intruding on her when she didn't expect it.

“There's snitz pie, cherry pie, and rhubarb pie,” Mamm announced. “Just tell the girls which kind you want. Ashlee, you're first. You're our guest.”

Barbie suspected Ashlee didn't have a clue what snitz pie was, but she didn't ask.

“I'd love to try the rhubarb. My mother makes that kind.”

Mamm reached across to pat her hand. “Well, you'll like your mamm's pie best, that's certain-sure. But maybe ours will make this seem more like home.”

Given how Ashlee felt about her parents, Barbie was surprised when Ashlee looked touched.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

All the grown-ups relaxed over dessert and coffee, while the kinder were only too eager to finish and run outside. Zeb's kinder loved to visit their grossdaadi's farm, even though it wasn't much different from their own. Finally they were allowed to depart, tugging David along with them for an impromptu game of ball.

“Better not make Onkel David run around too much after that big meal he ate,” Barbie called out to them. “He might burst.”

Grinning, David shook his fist at her.

Daad and Zeb departed for the barn to look over the new heifers, leaving the women with the dishes. Barbie glanced at Ashlee. “You don't have to help. You're company.”

“I can dry dishes.” Ashlee carried dessert plates to the sink. “Even though we have a dishwasher at home, I've done a few.”

Mamm handed her a dish towel. “Around here, when someone has a baby girl, we're like as not to say that so-and-so has a new little dishwasher.”

“Don't boys take their turn with the dishes?” Ashlee sounded as if she were about to defend women's rights, and Barbie held her breath.

“They do if it's needed,” Mamm replied. “When I had all
those boys before I got my daughter, I pressed them into service. But if we have daughters, it just seems natural to send the boys out to do chores in the barn while the girls help in the house. I guess it's not that way in your family.”

Ashlee looked a little disconcerted. “We didn't have a lot of chores, since we lived in a modern suburban house.”

“There's always work to be done when you're raising a family,” Mamm said, rinsing a plate before setting it in the rack.

“That's for sure,” Esther said. “I wouldn't trade my six for anything, but they do make messes. So it's best they learn to clean them up while the messes are still small.”

“It's hard to believe those girls of yours cause you any trouble. They are as sweet and helpful as can be.” Mamm was obviously proud of her granddaughters, whatever the church might say about pride.

Esther smiled affectionately at her mother-in-law. “They're extra sweet when it comes to their grossmammi. No wonder you think they're special.”

Ashlee nodded. “I guess I've always been extra sweet to my grandmother, too, maybe
because
she thinks I'm special.”

Barbie relaxed, hearing the familiar women's talk flowing easily and including Ashlee. After all, women weren't so different, whether they were Englisch or Amish. They all wanted the same things, didn't they?

Well, home and family, that was the same. Some women wanted more—careers or jobs of their own. Maybe that was more common for the Englisch, but many Amish women felt that way, too. Then there was the freedom Englisch women enjoyed.

She found she was watching Ashlee as she talked easily with
Esther. Ashlee had plenty of freedom—that was certain-sure. But was she enjoying it? That question made her wonder.

When the dishes were finished, Ashlee glanced at her watch. “I think I'd better head home. Barbie, will you walk out to the car with me?”

Barbie nodded. Did Ashlee have something to say she didn't want others to hear?

Ashlee made the rounds, thanking everyone for making her so welcome. When Mamm hugged her, she looked surprised for an instant, and then she hugged her back, blinking a little.

Finally they were standing out by Ashlee's car. The sun had made its way behind the ridge, and twilight settled in, deepening shadows by the outbuildings. David and the kinder disappeared into the barn to help with chores.

“I hope you had a good time.”

Ashlee's smile flashed. “Who wouldn't? Your family is great. I can see why . . .” She let that trail off, but Barbie knew the ending anyway. Why she wouldn't want them to be disappointed in her. That was it, wasn't it?

“They liked you, too,” she said quickly. “You'll have to come again.”

Ashlee nodded, but she thought her mind was elsewhere. “Listen, Barbie, I have to tell you. I did something I'm afraid you won't like.”

Barbie eyed her. “You haven't been setting up dates for me, have you?”

“If only,” she said, grinning. Then she sobered quickly. “I know you didn't want me to do it, but I couldn't help myself. And I think you'll be glad, really. I found your brother James.”

She couldn't have heard what she thought she had. “James?” Was her voice as empty as her mind seemed to be?

“Right. James Lapp, your brother.” Ashlee's nervousness betrayed itself by how fast she was talking. “He wasn't really hard to find. He's living in Ohio, near Columbus, not all that far away. He's married, he has two kids, a boy and a girl who are ten and eight, and he works for a construction company. He . . .”

“Wait, wait.” She held up her hand to stem the flow of words. “I can't take it all in. You actually found him. Are you sure it's my brother?”

“Certain. He didn't make any secret about his family. In fact, he said—”

“You talked to him?” Her thoughts were tumbling in her head, so quickly she couldn't process them. “You actually talked to James?”

“Well, I e-mailed him first. But when he found out I knew you, he said he wanted to talk, so we did.” Ashlee looked at her, anxiety plain in her face. “Are you mad?”

“N-n-no, I guess not. It's just a lot to take in. After all this time of not hearing from him, to have him suddenly pop up like this . . .”

“I guess. That was kind of what he said, too. But he sounds nice.” Ashlee blew out a relieved breath. “Anyway, I'm glad you aren't mad.” She hesitated. “He left a message on my phone for you. Do you want to hear it?” Ashlee held up the phone.

Barbie stared at it. Then she nodded.

A moment later, with the phone pressed against her ear, Barbie heard her brother's voice for the first time in years.

“Hi, Barbie. I guess your friend told you how she got in touch with me. I just wanted to say—well, I'm sorry about leaving that
way. I've always wanted to reach out to the family, but I figured maybe they wouldn't want me to. Or maybe I was just scared. Anyway, I'd love to talk with my little sister. Your friend has my number and address, so if you want to call or write, it would really make me happy. I know I let you down, but I never stopped loving you.” The recorded voice broke on the last few words, and Barbie thought he was holding back tears as he hung up.

As for her—well, she wasn't holding them back at all. Her face was wet when she handed the phone back to Ashlee, and her heart felt strange—as if a piece that had been missing was pushing itself back into place.

Lancaster County, Summer 1960

Elizabeth could hardly keep still as the car turned into the lane. She knew she'd been smiling the entire ride from the doctor's office in Lancaster, and the Englisch neighbor who had driven her probably wondered what was going on.

She couldn't tell Mrs. Forbes, as nice as she was. She couldn't tell anyone until Reuben knew.

Elizabeth clasped her hands together over her belly. A baby. At last, the news was good. Reuben would be so happy. All of the darkness between them would be turned to light, and their marriage would be as happy as it had been.

If only she could find him alone. She knew she couldn't contain herself long, and this was news that deserved privacy.

Mrs. Forbes stopped at the kitchen door, and Elizabeth leaned forward to hand her the money she had ready. “Denke, Mrs. Forbes. I don't know what we'd do without our kind drivers.”

“It's my pleasure,” the woman said, as she always did. And
Elizabeth felt sure she meant it. With her children grown and away and her husband at work all day, she seemed to enjoy every opportunity for an outing, almost as much as she liked the extra money it brought in. “I hope you got good news from the doctor?”

Her tone made it a question, and the twinkle in her eyes suggested that she'd already guessed. Barbie just smiled and nodded. Whether she'd guessed or not, Mrs. Forbes could be trusted not to talk about anything she saw or heard when she was driving. That was one of the reasons she was everyone's first choice for a driver.

Elizabeth slid out of the car, scanning the farm quickly. Mamm Alice was out in the garden, bending over the row of young lettuce, and she could see Reuben's daad and brother in the far field, fixing fence. Even as she began to wonder where her husband was, Reuben came out of the building they used as a workshop.

She waved, and he came toward her quickly. It had been his idea that she make an appointment with the doctor. He'd grown increasingly concerned about her lately.

She'd known he was worried about her, and she'd struggled to hide her pain. But he knew her so well, he'd seen past every façade she tried to put up. But now—now everything was different.

“What did the doctor say?” Reuben took her hand, his gaze studying her face.

She glanced around, afraid someone else would notice she was here and start toward them. “Let's walk down toward the stream, so we can talk by ourselves.”

With a quick look at his mother in the garden, Reuben nodded.
Together they crossed the lawn and went down the path to where the huge weeping willow overhung the stream. They could be private there, surely.

Reuben turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. “So, what did the doctor say? Did he give you something to make you feel better?”

She began to smile and felt as if she'd never stop. “He gave me something, ja. He gave me gut news.”

“News?” Reuben didn't seem to understand what she thought was so obvious.

“A baby, Reuben.” Happiness bubbled through her, needing to spill out. “We are going to have a baby.”

A look of incredulous joy spread across his face. “Really? For sure?”

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes. “For sure.”

“Ach, my Elizabeth, that is wonderful. I'm so happy.” He threw his arms around her, lifting her off her feet in a huge hug. He pressed his warm cheek against hers. “Praise God.”

“Our prayers have been answered.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “This is all I need to make me happy—you and a baby to love.”

“And me.” He cradled her face in his hands, looking intently into her eyes. “But what exactly did the doctor say? Is there anything we must be careful about?” A shadow crossed his face, and she knew he was thinking about little Matthias.

“That's what I asked him, and he was so kind and understanding. He explained again that it wasn't anything we did or didn't do the last time. He said there was nothing that would have made a difference, and he told me that there's no reason at all to think something will go wrong this time.”