Rebecca's Choice (36 page)

John struggled with his feelings. With the suddenness of their arrival, relief and guilt ran through him. He turned to go back into the house and thanked the two couples who had come. They were on their way out. Inside Aden and Esther were on their feet.

“There are leftovers,” Esther told him. “We left them for later. We’ll let you know if any calls come in on the answering machine.”

“Thanks,” he said again as they left.

Alone the reality of the bishop’s words came back. Relieved by the good news of his father’s health, he let the joy rise up. He was to be married—married to Rebecca—and he didn’t have to make good on his threat. He didn’t have to see his parents’ teary eyes or Rebecca’s. No decisions needed to be agonized over nor hearts broken, rather the path ahead was straight and smooth.

Then the knowledge that the purchase price had been partially paid by his father’s stroke came to him. It bothered him, but then he let the thought go. He couldn’t control everything. What was said needed to be said. Had it not turned out okay in the end?

True, Reuben Byler had died the same day, but he figured that was another matter. Tragic, yes, and sad, but he now had a full plate of responsibilities in front of him. He was to be a married man, a man with a wife and a home to support. And if
Da Hah
willed it, children to raise.

Upstairs he lay on the bed and let the wonder of it sweep over him. A gate, which he had often figured would never open, had opened. Not only had Rebecca agreed to marry him all that time ago, she had stayed with him and sorted out her feelings and desires that drew her to the past.

It didn’t seem fair that she had to go through so much in the past months. First, she had to deal with his jealousy, the accident, the uncertainty of whether he would walk again, then Emma’s passing. That had been the last trial. So suddenly it had come. So out of the blue, and yet Rebecca had weathered the storm.

Not only had she made it through, but more than that, she had seemed to grow more beautiful with each difficulty she survived. He could not be more blessed, of this he was certain.
Da Hah
had seen fit to bless him with a truly wonderful girl.

He closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come. There were so many things needing to be done. The renters on his place would have to be notified. Thankfully there was a clause in his contract where a thirty-day notice could be given.

He decided it would be given right away. Even if a little early, they needed plenty of time to clean and repaint the house. Rebecca might even want to change some things, and he could only imagine them as wonderful changes. If he could afford it, they would be made.

Sleep came much later, but all night he dreamed—dreams awash with Rebecca, the house on the hill, the stream that flowed behind it, and the beauty of her face in his hands.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-EIGHT

M
orning brought another phone call from the Cincinnati hospital and a request from Miriam for taxi transportation home. The doctors, she said, expressed great delight in Isaac’s progress. Apparently Isaac’s stroke had not set in till the early morning hours, and so the clot had been removed in time. His recovery was nothing less than dramatic. By that evening Isaac would be able to walk, Miriam said, so there was no need for a special handicap van.

His joy at the bishop’s news nearly exploding inside him, John had planned to visit Rebecca that evening after his duties at Miller’s Furniture, but this trip to pick up his father took priority. The news, he figured, would be none the worse for its late transmittal. Rebecca would understand.

Aden’s wife, Esther, rode along. They hired Mrs. Coldwell, who lived in Unity. She often drove her van on taxi trips for the Amish. John sat on the first bench seat. Esther sat in the front. He listened as Esther filled Mrs. Coldwell in on the details of Isaac’s illness and recovery.

“They have quite the techniques for stroke victims,” Mrs. Coldwell commented when Esther was done.

“We are thankful,” Esther told her. “It would have been awful to see Isaac struck down in his old age.”

“Comes hard enough already,” Mrs. Coldwell agreed. “You folks don’t have insurance.”

“No.” Esther shook her head.

“Expensive. That treatment has to be,” Mrs. Coldwell said glancing sideways.

“I know,” Esther replied nodding.

John remembered the conversation at the hospital, forgotten in all the rush of things. There would be a bill to pay—a right big one. For a brief moment, he thought of Rebecca’s money. It would be easy to use some of that, pay off the bill and unburden his parents.

As soon as it came, he rejected the thought. It would be dishonest, a betrayal that would only open the door to even greater ones. He could imagine the hurt on Rebecca’s face, if he were to even ask for such a thing.

When they arrived at the hospital, John walked in with Esther, while Mrs. Coldwell waited in the van. She said she would pull up when she saw them come out. Miriam had Isaac already checked out and in the front waiting room. John approached them, emotions strong in his chest. He knew they had been spared a great tragedy.

“I’m so sorry about the other night,” were his first words after Isaac’s embrace.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” his mother said from beside them.

“It was not your fault, son,” Isaac assured him. “I had this coming a long time. I guess your mother was right.”

“Of course I was,” Miriam said, but tears brightened her cheeks.

“It is good to see you and so well,” Esther told Isaac and shook his hand.

“I’ll be eating rabbit food from now on,” Isaac said chuckling. “Miriam got the list. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’ve heard that before,” Esther told him. “This time you’d better listen.”

“He will.” Miriam’s voice was grim.

“Oh, well…” Isaac said sighing, “there will still be pleasures in life, I suppose.”

“Having you around in good health will be one of them,” Miriam told him. “You have the van outside?”

“Mrs. Coldwell is waiting,” Esther said, as she moved toward the door.

On the drive back, John sat in the second seat back and listened to the questions about his father’s hospital stay and surgery. Isaac obviously remembered little of it.

“The first thing I remember is waking up and my head hurting,” Isaac told them. “That must have been after the surgery.”

“That’s how bad it was,” Miriam said, her face still drawn.

“I guess
Da Hah
had mercy on me,” Isaac said and chuckled.

“We needed to hear you preach again,” Esther told him.

“Oh… he is a preacher,” Mrs. Coldwell said as she remembered.

“Don’t take Esther’s word on the preaching,” Isaac informed her.

“Don’t take his either,” Miriam said. “He’s good. I’ll take him any day.”

“Now… now,” Isaac said, taking her hand in his. “
Da Hah
has been good to us.”

It was already late by the time they got back. John had entertained thoughts of a trip over to the Keim place yet but decided against it. He followed his father’s slow steps into the house and helped him into his chair.

“Bedtime for me,” Isaac said grinning. “Real soon.”

“You’re eating something first,” Miriam informed him. “The stuff they feed you at hospitals—it’s frightening.”

She brought him a slice of leftover meat loaf, from last night’s food preparation, and lettuce. Isaac made a face but ate it. John sat with his father but knew he wouldn’t last too long. Tiredness swept over his body. The events of the last few days, he thought, had sapped more of his strength than he had been aware of.

“You must talk to the bishop tomorrow,” Isaac said. “Perhaps he will understand.”

“He won’t be here,” John told him. “There is a funeral in Milroy.”

“Oh, no,” Miriam said from the kitchen. “I forgot to tell you Reuben Byler died. He fell off a stepladder.”

“Reuben,” Isaac said, his voice quiet, “he wasn’t that old.”

“No,” Miriam agreed and came into the living room to sit beside him. John sat with them in silence. The light of the gas lantern hissed above their heads.

“
Da Hah
does as He sees best,” Isaac said. “His ways are above ours. He leaves some and takes others.”

Miriam stroked his arm, her eyes full of tears.

“I wish you could speak with Bishop soon,” Isaac told John. “This thing weighs heavy on me.”

“He already spoke with me,” John offered, now that it seemed appropriate.

“Bishop did?” Isaac said looking up.

“Yes. He said Lester’s plan would be okay.”

John saw joy leap into his father’s eyes.

“
Da Hah sei lohb,
” he said. “He is worthy.”

“What made Bishop change his mind?” Miriam asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” John said. “I suspect it was Dad’s accident.”

“Really,” Miriam said, “you think so?”

“Then it was worth it all.” Isaac reached out to grip John’s arm. “It was the right thing for Bishop to do. I am so glad. Now you are…” Isaac’s voice choked. “You will be with us, the way it ought to be.”

“You weren’t serious, were you?” Miriam asked him. “About going Mennonite?”

John was silent. He hadn’t expected his mother to ask the question.

“He was,” Isaac said.

Miriam raised her eyebrows, so John nodded.

“But… Mennonite. Not really. You wouldn’t now, would you?” His mother’s eyes pleaded with him.

“No.” John shook his head. “I never did want to. It just wasn’t right the way Rebecca was being used. I thought I had to do something.”

“
Da Hah
respects an honest heart,” Isaac said. “You are a good boy. We can be thankful you received help.”

“You can say that,” Miriam said. “Mennonite. You don’t think Rebecca would have gone with you?”

“I have no idea,” John told her. “I wasn’t going to tell Rebecca till together we talked with Bishop.”

“The follies of youth.” Miriam sighed. “Are you ready for bed, Isaac?”

“More than ready,” he told her.

John watched as his mother helped his father toward the bedroom. His face looked tired, his body weary, but underneath John knew his father’s heart was full of joy—joy that his son had found the right answer to his problem, joy that the faith they believed in had stood the test, joy that though so much had depended on the actions of men and women, vessels made of clay, things had turned out okay.

Tomorrow John would see Rebecca, and he would tell her the good news. Sleep came easily for him, and he dreamed no dreams all night. He woke with the alarm clock, since even on Sunday mornings, chores had to be done. Both his parents would stay home from church, he figured, and his mother told him at the breakfast table his assumption was correct.

To leave early had no purpose, but John still drove out of the driveway ten minutes ahead of time, such was his eagerness to see Rebecca. Perhaps, he figured, he could catch a glimpse of her when she arrived. The family would likely come in the buggy, with Rebecca’s aunt in the van they had hired. He doubted whether the Keim buggies could hold both family and visitors.

He parked his buggy and shook hands down the line of men and boys, then took his place and waited. His face must have showed his excitement because Will, who stood beside him, teased, “You’ll see her in church.”

John jumped.

Will must have put his imagination in high gear immediately. “You’re not being published today, are you?” he asked John.

John’s voice caught. “No,” he said, but Will still looked suspicious.

“Just good news,” John told him, in the hopes Will would be satisfied.

“She already said the good word, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” John couldn’t help but grin. “Just more of the same.”

“Okay, be mysterious.” With that Will turned to speak to the boy beside him.

John got what he waited for a few minutes later. The van carrying the Keim visitors pulled in first and parked off to the side. Lester, in the surrey, came in soon afterward and stopped by the front walk. While Mattie and her younger girls climbed down, Rebecca appeared with her aunt from the van.