The Rebel (8 page)

He tried a third time. “Those who are thinking of it aren't talking about going far away. Just maybe down to Maryland or out to the valleys in central Pennsylvania. It's not like going to the other side of an ocean.”

“Don't!” She shook her head again, tears welling in her eyes. “I can't. I never thought you would do such a thing.”

He stiffened, feeling as if they stood on either side of a chasm that was getting deeper with every word they spoke.

“Elizabeth, I will do my best to find a place here in the county, close to family. But if I don't succeed, I'll have to think of leaving. I'm your husband, and I have a duty to take care of you and any children we have.”

Elizabeth stood staring at him. Then she turned away. With a muffled sob, she stumbled toward the barn door and out of his sight, leaving him berating himself.

He shouldn't have said it that way. He should have comforted her, reassured her, and tried to win her over.

But he'd only said what was true. He was the head of the family. The decision and the responsibility were his, and he couldn't shirk them.

•   •   •

A
quiet Sunday evening at home gave Barbie more time to think than she appreciated. She'd rather be playing a lively game, but no one would join her on the Sabbath.

Did Benuel feel he'd discharged his duties toward her with that pointed sermon that morning? Or should she be ready for further repercussions?

She put away the last few dishes from supper as Mamm sat down at the table, automatically picking up a patch from the quilt she was piecing. Mamm never could just sit. She always had to be doing something.

Daad was just the same. He sat at the end of the table, whittling a small toy animal for one of his grandkids—probably a
goat for young Sammy, from the look of it. Sammy was crazy about goats and couldn't wait until he was old enough to raise them all by himself.

That reminded her of Grossmammi, showing her a crib quilt she'd made with her sisters and cousin. Quilting frolics never went out of style among the Amish, at least. Grossmammi had seemed to gaze into the past, to a time when her family had been close by instead of far off in Lancaster County. Funny that she'd never thought, until Grossmammi had started telling her stories, how hard it must have been to move here. And even funnier that Barbie found the place so boring that sometimes she longed to be anywhere else.

The sound of wheels drew her attention to the lane outside. A buggy drew up to the back door, and her heart sank when she recognized the driver. Benuel Kauffmann.

This was it, then. Ben had decided that his sermon wasn't enough, probably because of her angry reaction to it. No doubt he had come as minister to inform her parents of her misdeeds.

Barbie's heart clenched. This would hurt them so much. Why, oh why, had she let herself get involved with Mary?

“Who is it, Barbie?” Mamm was already picking up the coffeepot, weighing it in her hand to see if there was enough left from supper for visitors.

Daad swept wood shavings from the table into his palm and dumped them into the trash can. “One of the kids, most likely.”

“It's Ben Kauffmann,” she said reluctantly. “And his daad.”

That was odd. If Ben had come on an official call, she'd expect him to have one of the other ministers with him, or even the bishop.

“Well, let them in,” Mamm said impatiently. “Don't stand there mooning, Barbie.”

“Right.” She went to the door, opening it and surprising Ben with his fist raised to knock. She met his gaze with a pronounced glare, then stepped back from the door. “Komm in.”

Nodding curtly, Ben walked into the kitchen, followed closely by his father, who had a smile for Barbie that took the edge off her mix of fear and anger.

Moses's friendliness argued against a confrontation, but why else would they be here? Taking a steadying breath, she closed the door and followed them, barely noticing Mamm and Daad's greetings and Mamm's inevitable insistence that they must be hungry and thirsty.

“Denke, but just the coffee, please.” Moses settled himself at the table, folding gnarled hands in front of him. “We're here to talk to Barbie, mostly, but to you as well.”

Mamm looked startled, but she finished pouring the coffee and sat down while Daad laid aside his whittling knife.

“We're listening, Moses. What can we do for you?” Daad glanced at Barbie, and she slid into a chair.

“Well, it's this way.” Moses stared at his hands. “Ach, this is difficult to say.”

Barbie's heart sank. So it would be Moses who would tell her parents. He'd been hurt by what his daughter had done, but now he'd cause her parents that same hurt.

“Just take your time,” Mamm said, casting a swift glance at Daad. “We're listening.”

“It's our Mary.” Once the first words were out, Moses seemed to find it easier going. “The thing is, we're having a lot of problems with her.”

“Is the child ill?” Mamm asked with quick sympathy.

“No, no.” Moses shook his head. “Not ill. Just . . . rebellious. Ach, well, I suppose the truth is that she needs a woman to talk to. She's a teenager now, and it seems all she can think about is arguing with the way things are and even breaking the rules.”

Barbie's stomach seemed to clench.

“She needs a woman to talk to, like I said. If her mamm were still with us . . . But try as we do, Benuel and I can't seem to get through to her.” He glanced at Mamm. “I know you're thinking that it ought to be her older sister she's turning to, but the truth is that she and Sarah have never gotten on well.”

Mamm nodded. “We'd be wonderful glad to do anything we can.” There was a note in her voice that seemed to ask what that might be.

“I've thought about it and thought about it, and the thing is that our Mary has developed an admiration for Barbie.”

“For me?” Barbie's voice came out in a squeak. “But I . . .” She stopped, not wanting to betray anything she didn't have to.

“So I was thinking that maybe if Barbie would take Mary under her wing, like, it might be a big help to my girl.”

“Of course, of course,” Daad said before Barbie could find her voice. “Barbie will help.”

“Um, ja, for sure,” she mumbled, wondering how on earth she could get out of this. “I'm just not sure what I can do.”

Glancing up, she caught the full glare of Benuel's eyes. He was hating this even more than she was, obviously.

“Just make a friend of the child,” Mamm said, and there was a warning in her voice. “That's not hard.”

“How? I can't just walk in on her and invite her to talk to me. That would turn her off for sure.” Didn't they see that?
But Mamm was giving her the frown that said she didn't want to hear objections.

“I thought maybe Mary could help out at the farm-stay if you and your cousin are willing,” Moses said, appealing directly to her. “She'd like getting away from home, and she's a fine worker. But we wouldn't expect you to pay her.”

She was well and truly trapped, with Mamm and Daad looking on approvingly and Moses appealing to her. Ben was the only one who might object, but he apparently wasn't going to, no matter how he hated the idea.

Barbie tried to sound upbeat. “There's plenty to do getting the place ready for guests. And we'd certain-sure want to pay her something for helping. But will Mary want to come?”

“I'll tell her you asked for her,” Moses said quickly. “Just talk to Rebecca and let us know when you want her.”

He rose as he spoke, as if eager to get away before she could change her mind. Or maybe he was embarrassed at having admitted Mary's problems to her parents. If so, that was ironic.

“We're sehr glad our Barbie can help you.” Daad glanced at Mamm. “She'll do everything she can.”

Barbie nodded, but her heart felt like lead. Why, knowing what he did, would Moses think she'd be a good influence on his daughter? And how could she advise the girl when she had such questions herself?

She jerked her attention back to the moment. Moses was turning down Mamm's renewed offers of food, and Benuel strode out the door with a quick good-bye as if he couldn't get away fast enough.

With a glance, Daad gathered them to go outside to see Moses and Ben off. Barbie suppressed the urge to disappear.

Chance put her close to Ben while her parents and his father were saying their good-byes. She couldn't resist saying something.

“You're hating this, aren't you?”

His strong jaw clamped, looking as if it had been formed of iron. “My father appreciates your efforts.” He ground out the words. “I will be watching you.”

The words jolted her with their reminder of the anonymous note she'd received. “Did you send me that letter?”

As soon as the words were out, she knew he hadn't. He stared at her blankly for a moment.

“What letter?”

She shook her head, sorry she'd mentioned it. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“It's not nothing. What letter—”

“Ready, Ben?” Moses was climbing into the buggy.

“Ja, coming.” Ben sent her a look that promised a renewal of his question at the earliest opportunity.

How had she gotten committed to this crazy scheme? Didn't Moses realize how foolish it was to ask a woman who was already skating dangerously near the line of being Amish to act as guide to a rebellious girl?

And if something bad happened to Mary now, she had no doubt she'd be the one to get the blame. She was really and truly stuck.

T
he
perfect solution occurred to Barbie the next day as she drove down the lane to Rebecca's house. Why hadn't she seen it sooner? The plan Moses had come up with didn't depend solely on her. Rebecca would have something to say about it as well.

On second thought, maybe that solution wasn't so perfect. Her cousin Rebecca was a generous, openhearted woman with a maternal streak a mile wide. Rebecca was more likely to be mothering Mary instead of turning down her help.

Everything about Rebecca's home was as welcoming as she was. Daffodils along the porch steps looked ready to burst into bloom, and the tulips were already several inches high. And Rebecca was setting out pansies in the planters along the edge of the porch, the cheerful pansy faces bobbing in the breeze.

Barbie drew up at the hitching rail, returning Rebecca's wave. By the time she'd hopped down and flipped the lines over the rail, Rebecca was there to sweep her into a hug.

“Barbie, this is so nice. I wasn't expecting you. Aren't you working today?”

“I have the supper shift.” She held her cousin at arm's length, scrutinizing her.

“What are you looking at?” Rebecca's words trembled on the edge of laughter. Her eyes sparkled, and there seemed to be an extra bloom on her cheeks.

“Just checking. Mamm says you've been looking especially glowing lately.”

The color came up in Rebecca's face. “Oops. And I thought I was hiding it.”

“You mean it's true? You and Matt are expecting?”

“Shh.” Laughter bubbled out of her, her joy so obvious that it was as if she wore a huge sign. “No one is supposed to know. But I can't help how I feel, can I?”

“Ach, Rebecca, I'm wonderful glad for you.” She pressed her cheek against Rebecca's. Was that actually a tinge of envy she felt? Ridiculous.

“Denke. I have been hoping, you know. I don't want there to be too big a gap between the kinder. And to think a year ago I didn't believe I could ever be truly happy again.”

“Well, that just shows how foolish you were.” Barbie put her arm around her cousin's waist as they headed toward the house. “Somebody like you was made for marriage and family.”

Rebecca gave her a challenging look. “And what about somebody like Barbie?”

“Don't start,” Barbie warned her, keeping it light. “I hear enough of it from my mamm.”

Rebecca chuckled, but she desisted. “Komm. We'll go in and have coffee.”

“I don't want to interrupt. Let me help you finish the pansies first.”

She eyed Rebecca covertly as they settled on the edge of the porch by the long planters. Rebecca looked so happy, so—contented. A year ago at this time she'd been overburdened with the weight of trying to raise her two kinder alone and make a go of the farm the way she thought Paul would have wanted. Then, grief had hollowed her cheeks and set worried lines between her eyes. Now she seemed to have come into the sunshine.

Rebecca handed her a pansy, holding the root ball in the palm of her hand. Barbie set it into the planter, pressing the soil down firmly with the trowel. “Where's Matt today?”

“He's off with his onkel and cousin, helping them with a kitchen they're doing. The homeowner wants a built-in breakfast area, so Matt is building it for them.”

Matt's furniture business was thriving, but he still managed to find time to help his family, to say nothing of farming the property with Rebecca's father and brothers.

“He's not going to have much space in his schedule to help with the guests, is he?”

“He says he will. And with my brothers pitching in and your help, we'll manage.” Rebecca seemed to look inward for a moment, pressing her palm against her still-flat stomach. “But you can see why your help is so important now.”

This was the prime moment to bring up having Mary work with them, but she didn't want to.

“Grossmammi is wonderful glad you've been spending so much time with her lately.” Rebecca's words gave her a respite.

“It doesn't take any urging to make me want to be with her. Did you ever know anyone who could make you feel so . . . well,
so special?” That idea didn't really fit in too well with the Amish value of humility, but Rebecca would know what she meant.

In fact, her cousin was already nodding. “She has a gift for it, ain't so? Not that my mamm doesn't spend a lot of time and attention on my young ones,” she added quickly. “But Grossmammi isn't so busy, not like Mamm with the boys still at home. Anyway, it's sehr gut that she's been sharing her stories with you.” There was a touch of curiosity in Rebecca's face.

“We've been going through the things in her dower chest.” Barbie hesitated. “Some of her stories—well, I didn't realize how difficult things were back before the family left Lancaster County. Leaving must have been a hard decision to make.”

Rebecca's fingers slowed as she pressed another pansy into place. “Big decisions are always hard, ain't so? When Matt came along—well, it wasn't like it had been with Paul.” A spasm of pain crossed her face, a cloud passing over the sun. “If I'd known everything that was going to happen with Paul when I was eighteen . . .” She let the words fade.

“Maybe it's best not to know,” Barbie suggested, realizing her cousin must be thinking of those difficult days when Paul became ill and they realized he wasn't going to get better.

“Ja.” Rebecca nodded, her serenity returning as quickly as it had vanished. “If we knew the future, we'd never move on. But God only lets us see far enough ahead for the next step.”

The words seemed to strike a chord in Barbie's heart. Where was the vision that would illuminate her future? Maybe she hadn't been paying enough attention.

In any event, she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. She had to talk to Rebecca about Mary.

She focused on the nodding pansies. Sound casual—that
was the idea. “By the way, I happened to be talking to Moses Kauffmann. He said that if we needed any help with the farm-stay, Mary would be interested in working for us.”

Silence for a long moment.

“What do you think about it?” Rebecca sounded cautious.

She knew Rebecca was watching her, but she didn't want to meet her eyes, fearing she'd give away too much. “Well, I . . . I'm not sure . . . That is . . .”

She'd been living a lie with her parents, hiding her fascination with the Englisch world. Why should it be so difficult to tell Rebecca she didn't like the notion?

“Barbie.” Rebecca's voice was so serious that Barbie had to look at her. “I know something is wrong. I've heard rumors.”

“About me?” She flared up in an instant.

“About you, ja. But about Mary Kauffmann, too. Can't you tell me what is going on?”

“You're getting as bad as Grossmammi. One look, and she sees far too much.” She tried to decide what, and how much, to say to her cousin.

“I've known you all your life. And I hope we are friends, as well as cousins.” She clasped Barbie's hand. “I want to help, but how can I, if I don't know the truth? Why does Moses want Mary to work for us? And why don't you?”

Barbie studied her face. Rebecca was safe. But she would be trusting her not just with her own secret, but with Mary's.

Finally she let out a long breath. “No one else can hear this,” she warned. “Not even Matt.”

Rebecca nodded. “I understand.”

“Mary got in trouble the other night. Out with some Englisch kids who got her drunk.”

“Ach, the poor child. And her without a mother to turn to.” Pity filled her eyes. “No wonder Moses wants something to occupy her. Of course we must help.”

She could just let it go at that—let Rebecca assume Barbie was only motivated by wanting to provide guidance for the motherless girl.

No. She couldn't stop there and be able to face herself in the mirror.

“That's not the whole story.” She realized that she was plaiting her fingers together. Realized, too, that Rebecca had noticed. “I saw Mary at a bar out on the Jonestown road. I couldn't just leave her, so I got my friend Ashlee to drive us to the Kauffmann place to take her home.”

Silence again. Finally she looked at Rebecca. “Aren't you going to ask me what I was doing there?”

Rebecca's eyes were grave, but she didn't shy away from the challenge. “I think I know already. You were out with an Englisch friend, trying to be one of them.”

“Not . . . not that, exactly.” She stumbled over the words. “I mean, I just wanted to see what it was like to be with Ashlee and her friends.”

Rebecca didn't say anything. She just waited.

Barbie clenched her hands together. “Anyway, you can imagine how Benuel Kauffmann reacted. He immediately assumed I'd been the one leading his sister astray.”

“You explained, didn't you?”

“I did, but I'm not sure it helped. Anyway, I certain-sure never expected them to ask me to influence Mary, but Moses says she admires me, and he thinks working here with us would be good for Mary.” She grimaced. “Ben didn't agree.”

“Well, it's up to Mary's father, after all.” Rebecca paused, her gaze on Barbie's face. “You are reluctant to do it.”

“Can't you understand why?” The words burst out of her. “If Mary gets into trouble now, I'll get the blame. Anyway, I'm the last person who should be asked to guide a rebellious teenager. I'm not exactly the model of a perfect Amish woman.”

That brought Rebecca's smile back. “Ach, Barbie, don't you see? That's exactly why you are in a place to help this girl.”

“But . . .” The objections died on her tongue at Rebecca's expression. It was no use. Whether Rebecca was right or not she didn't know, but if she was . . .

Well, then, Barbie had to go through with it.

•   •   •

Ben
,
glancing up from the buggy wheel he was working on in the shop behind the house, started as movement caught his eye. A buggy, with Barbie Lapp driving. He'd been expecting her to show up, since Daad had asked her to let them know about Mary working at the farm-stay.

He didn't like it. Daad seemed to think he would become reconciled to the idea, but he wouldn't. Still, he had no choice but to accept.

But Barbie could find a way out if she really tried. Maybe that was what she'd come to tell them. And if not—well, if not, he'd seize the opportunity to make it clear that he held her responsible for Mary.

Apparently not noticing him, or maybe not wanting to notice him, Barbie headed for the back door. Reluctantly he stepped out into the sunshine and called to her.

“Barbie! No one is here but me.”

He saw the movement of her bonnet as she nodded, and she started walking toward him. He had a moment of thinking that with her black bonnet and dark sweater she looked like every other Amish woman. And then she was close enough that he saw the lively face and pert dimples and knew she'd never look just like everyone else.

At least she was decently covered, not like the night she'd appeared in the jeans and sweater that showed off her slender figure. That image seemed stuck in his mind no matter how he tried to ignore it.

“Have they all gone off and left you today?” She smiled, but there was wariness, as always, when she looked at him.

“Mary went with the kinder to Sarah's house, and Daad is picking up a part we need at the hardware store. If you want to talk with him, he should be back in about half an hour.”

She hesitated, and he could almost see her reluctance to trust in him. He turned back to the wheel, deliberately letting her stew about it.

After a long moment, she let out her breath in a tiny sigh. “I suppose I may as well tell you, ain't so?”

He straightened. “If it's about Mary, I hope you've come to say that it doesn't suit Rebecca to have Mary working there.”

The color in her cheeks deepened. “I thought of that already, but it wasn't any use. We should both have known Rebecca better than that—of course she said yes.”

“Maybe you could have tried harder to dissuade her.” It probably wasn't fair to blame her for that, but since he already blamed her for so much, it was easy to pile a little more on.

“Maybe you could have tried harder to dissuade your daad,” she snapped back.

“All right.” He spread his hands in surrender. “We neither of us could prevent this happening.”

Her lips twitched, the ready humor coming into her eyes and the dimples at play. “See, that wasn't so hard, was it?”

He tried not to return the smile, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Much as he disapproved of Barbie's actions, he could see why Mary admired her.

“It's Mary I'm worried about. Seems to me Daad ought to be tightening up after what she's done, not giving her more freedom. She's too young to be responsible.”

He didn't expect Barbie to agree with that opinion, and of course she didn't. He could see it in her eyes. But she paused before speaking, as if determined to reply calmly.

“She is young, but not younger than most Amish girls when they start taking on jobs. I began working in the bakery in town when I was about her age.” She seemed to look back at that younger self. “I was probably less mature than Mary is, but my job taught me responsibility.”

He didn't speak, but she shot him a defiant look.

“I suppose you're thinking that I haven't been showing a lot of responsibility lately.”

He bit back the impulse to reply sharply, forcing himself to think before he spoke. “How can I think that when you were responsible for rescuing Mary from the results of her foolishness?”

Barbie blinked, as if for once he'd taken her by surprise. “No matter how foolish she was, I'd like to have held those boys responsible. I don't suppose their parents had any idea what they were up to.”