Rum Spring (18 page)

Because it doesn’t do any good to dwell on what took place, I won’t speak of it again after today. Just know I regret my actions but not the result. Isaiah is a part of me and always will be. I will love him no matter what name he is called or in whose family he is raised. When you see him, please tell him that for me. Tell him I remain his mother and I love him and Moses more than I can express in words. I hope you are and will continue to be a part of both their lives. Please don’t let them forget about me. I am counting on you to keep me alive in their memories until the glorious day arrives when I will be able to perform the task myself.

Are you still spending time with Dylan Mahoney? I hope this situation, as awkward as it is, has not damaged your friendship. I know how much your relationship with her means to you. If anything, what happened should have made your bond even stronger. In a way, you two are like family now.

Does Matthew know he is a father? I hope his reaction to the news was one of pleasant surprise instead of outrage or denial. Perhaps one day he will find himself in a position to assume his rightful place in Isaiah’s life. I loved him in my own way—he lived life to the fullest every second of every day and I adored my time with him, as brief as it was—but I never made plans for a future with him. Why plan for the impossible? You know as well as I that an English and an Amish cannot join their lives in marriage. It goes against everything we hold dear. I went with him because it was forbidden but I never intended to stay. Such a life isn’t for me. I only wanted to visit it for a while so I would be able to say I had. So no one could say I didn’t know what I was missing. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t let anyone try to tell you what is best for you. Only you know what it is in your own heart. Always be true to yourself. Don’t let anyone keep you from fulfilling your dreams. Not even you.

Life here is so different than it is back home. (You might think it strange but I still consider Lutz my home, even though I am no longer welcome there.) It rains nearly every day here, so all the foliage is lush and green. Abraham will certainly never lack for trees to cut. If he were in the business of selling umbrellas or raincoats, he would be a millionaire many times over. Though he and Barbie cannot share meals with me while I’m being shunned, they have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome. They have assured me time and time again that I am not imposing on them and insist I can stay with them as long as I like. Despite the restrictions placed upon them by the council’s decision, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt such support. It’s overwhelming at times.

Working with Barbie is a joy. She is a wonderful teacher and her students are so eager to learn. In many ways, they remind me of you. When you were in school, you soaked up knowledge like a sponge. I was more like a sieve. Better late than never. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Are you enjoying living with Uncle Amos? He seemed out of sorts when Joshua and I lived with him. It was like he put himself on his best behavior for us and couldn’t afford to let his guard down. He acted like we were guests he felt the need to impress. It was almost as if he had a secret that our presence would help to uncover. Joshua kept telling me it was just my imagination. That Uncle Amos is simply a private man not accustomed to having company. I know Uncle Amos has always been different from most men, but I can’t rid myself of the feeling there is a part of his life we, his family, are not privy to. During your time with him, have you also found that to be true?

Speaking of Joshua, has he found another wife yet? I am sure he isn’t lacking for candidates. He is a good man. I hope he finds someone who will make him happy instead of causing him more pain. Someone who is willing to treat Moses as her own child instead of a burden she must carry.

As for me, there are many suitable men here. I don’t think I could go wrong with any of them but, even if I were allowed to seek a new lifemate right now, I am nowhere near ready to spend time with anyone yet. Perhaps in a few more months. If then. When I am no longer shunned, I will content myself going to Sunday sings and getting to know the people in my new community. Kind of makes me sound like a simmie, doesn’t it? I used to make fun of them for being so uncool, but I guess they had the right idea after all. There is something to be said for living the simple life. Things tend to go wrong when life gets too complicated.

I have an early day tomorrow. Growing up the way we did with chores that began well before dawn, we’re certainly no strangers to those. Tomorrow will bring a different kind of chore. Barbie and I will be taking the children to Portland for a field trip. We’re going to take them to the Oregon Zoo so they can see the animals we’ve been studying about in person instead of in a textbook. I think I am even more excited than the children. I will probably be awake all night thinking about it, but I had better try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s bus ride will take only a couple of hours but I will need to be alert to watch over the children. You know the kind of mischief students their age can get into.

I will write again as soon as I can. Kiss my boys for me. Mama and Papa, too. I love you—all of you—with all my heart.

Sarah

Rebecca read the letter once, then twice. Instead of providing answers, Sarah had raised more questions. Some questions Rebecca didn’t know how to respond to. How was she supposed to tell Sarah that not only was Joshua seeing someone, but the person he was seeing was Marian? That they seemed happy when no reasonable person could expect them to be? How was she supposed to tell Sarah that the woman who ruined her life, who tore her family apart might be the woman who would help raise her son? The news could be a lesson in forgiveness Sarah might not be ready to learn. Rebecca prayed Marian’s apparent redemption was complete.

Rebecca glanced at the clock over the door. Her lunch hour was almost over. Dylan’s letter would have to wait until after supper. When she had washed the dishes, put them away, and finished the rest of her chores, then she would have the time to read what was on Dylan’s mind. She slipped both envelopes into the pocket of her flour-dusted apron, giving herself something to look forward to at the end of the day.

She wanted to be able to mention Sarah’s letter to her family, especially her father. Sometimes he seemed as lost without Sarah as Sarah did without her boys. He busied himself with work and church, but how long could he keep up his frenetic pace before it proved to be too much?

Her mother and Uncle Amos were just as bad. They said they were happy, but Rebecca sensed such sadness in them. She thought she would bring a measure of joy to their lives when she joined church, but she couldn’t do that until Sarah had finished serving her sentence. If she joined church now, she would lose contact with her sister. Rebecca couldn’t sever ties with her now that she and Sarah were finally beginning to connect.

Sarah had told her not to stand in the way of her dreams, but those dreams were beginning to seem more like nightmares. The price for making them come true was more than she could afford to pay. Her family was her first and only priority. Nothing else mattered. Not even her own happiness.

Rebecca closed the book she was reading and pronounced herself ready for bed.

Uncle Amos removed his reading glasses and looked across the room at the clock that rested on the mantel of the stone fireplace. The antique timepiece had been in the family for generations, passed down to each firstborn son.

“So soon?”

Barely thirty minutes had passed since they had sat down. They usually read for an hour after dinner, Uncle Amos interpreting passages from the Bible while Rebecca devoured the latest popular novel by the flickering light of the gas lantern positioned on the side table between them.

Esther and Tobias visited upon occasion. They would play games and sit and talk for hours. Well, Rebecca and Esther would talk; Tobias and Uncle Amos would simply listen. Rebecca enjoyed their visits, but she preferred the quiet nights she and her uncle spent alone with only books and companionable silence to keep them company.

“I have letters I need to write.”

She kissed Uncle Amos on the top of his balding head and retired to her room. As in the apartment she once shared with Marian, the room was sparsely decorated, nearly all of the available storage space filled with books.

Books and the endless variety of stories within them fascinated her. Moved her. Made her think. She lived vicariously through the characters, imagining herself living a life far different from her own. It felt like torture sometimes. Other times it felt like bliss as she got to live the happily-ever-after ending that had been denied her in real life. She read her favorite tales over and over again, trying to commit them to memory. Once she was baptized, memories would be all she would have left.

When she joined church, she would have to renounce all outside influences, including the books she loved so dearly. The thought of living without them distressed her nearly as much as the reality of living without Dylan. She was trying to wean herself off them so she wouldn’t miss them as much. Lately she had been spending more time quilting and less time reading, increasing both her income and her peace of mind.

When she quilted, she could empty her mind of all extraneous thoughts. She didn’t have to think about anything but the next stitch and how it fit into the overall design. Hours passed in the span of what seemed like only a few minutes.

When the time came, she planned to donate her books to the local library so other people could gain as much pleasure from them as she had. She wasn’t looking forward to the day when she would no longer be allowed to read worldly books. Reading was one of the things she would miss most. Dylan and Isaiah were the others.

If she was to be in Isaiah’s life, however briefly, she needed to forget she was ever Dylan’s lover and return to being her friend. The task was easier said than done. Rebecca wasn’t able to relax around Dylan. Her feelings were always just below the surface waiting to bubble up again. She couldn’t see Dylan without wanting to kiss her. To throw her arms around her neck and tell her how much she loved her. To feel her warm skin yielding and compliant beneath her. To look into those green eyes and feel the love in them wash over her. To shout that love to the world instead of hiding it away.

She dashed off a quick response to Sarah’s letter and carefully read it over to make sure her mixed feelings didn’t appear on the page. Then she turned to Dylan’s letter.

The envelope—butterscotch yellow with Dylan’s initials embossed on the back flap—was so pretty Rebecca almost didn’t want to open it. She ran her finger over the raised letters, remembering the last time Dylan had given her such a fancy envelope. That one had contained an invitation to Dylan’s high school graduation. Dylan had given her that envelope on the day of the barn raising. The day their lives had changed forever.

Rebecca remembered the excitement she had felt holding the invitation in her hands. She remembered how special she had felt knowing Dylan had wanted her to share such a momentous occasion in her life. She remembered the crushing disappointment that had followed. She had missed the graduation. She had missed hearing Dylan deliver her valedictory speech. She had missed her chance to tell Dylan how proud she was of her accomplishments. And now Dylan was gone.

How she missed her. She missed going out with her. She missed teasing her about The List. She missed doing things with her. She even missed doing nothing with her. The times when they used to sit quietly holding hands with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Those were some of Rebecca’s fondest memories. “This is what love feels like,” she used to whisper in the silence. “Unhurried and unfettered.” Because Dylan always seemed to have something planned for them to do—some grand experience she wanted to share—those moments had been rare, which made them even more precious. What Rebecca wouldn’t give to have one of them back.

Steeling herself, she opened the envelope, hoping what was inside would confirm that letting Dylan go was the right decision instead of convincing her it was the wrong one.

She pressed the letter to her chest. “If she’s happy, everything I have done will be worth it.”

Rebecca,

I promised you once I would write you as often as I could. No matter what we are to each other and no matter where we are in life, I intend to keep every promise I ever made to you. I love you and I always will. I hope that’s something you will never tire of hearing because I will never tire of saying it.

College is everything I had expected it to be and more. Every day is a challenge, one I have managed to meet (so far). My grades are right where I want them to be. Woo hoo! Because my high school was so small and public instead of prep, I feared the education I received might not be up to par with my classmates here, but I am glad to report that it was. In fact, it might even have been better. Willie is doing well, too. Both personally and academically. We don’t see or hear from each other as much as we used to. We had to grow apart sometime. I guess the time has finally come. Surrounded by intelligent, socially aware, and politically active women, I think it’s safe to say she has finally found her niche. She’s still seeing Danielle. Even though it’s two years away, they’re already planning to spend part of their junior year abroad. Bryn Mawr offers a six-week summer session at the Institute of French Studies in Avignon, France. I can picture Willie and Dani rolling out of bed in a tiny apartment overlooking the Rhone, grabbing a cup of café Americain and a croissant, and catching the train to school. I’m already envious.

It looks like the U-Haul is packed and running. Our little girl is growing up (sniff!).

Villanova offers a study abroad program, too. One of our sister schools is in Ireland. If I keep my grades up and save enough money to cover expenses, I’ll be able to spend a year at the National University of Ireland in Galway. The school is a short train ride from the village where Grandma Siobhan grew up. Remember how we used to talk about visiting there one day? I may actually get the chance to check item number five off The List. Okay, half a check. The trip won’t be the same without you. You won’t be able to receive picture postcards by then so I’ll try my best to put all the beauty I see into words and share it with you.