Rebecca's Bouquet (8 page)

“Oh.” Rebecca moaned in distress. All of these issues had materialized from living with the English. An uneasy feeling swept through her as she considered Beth's confession that she couldn't survive without her husband.

She sympathized with William's step-mamma. The doctors had released Daniel, but he was still fragile. What if Daniel didn't make it? His doctors hadn't sent him home with a warranty.

Frustrated, Rebecca rolled her eyes and silently scolded herself. She shouldn't think that way. Her mother had raised her to focus on the positive. Old Sam stressed looking at her glass half full. To pray and to have faith.

But she was fully aware that prayers weren't always answered the way a person wanted. At least, that's what the bishop had said. It was important to believe, but it was also necessary to have enough strength to deal with reality. And there was no denying that Daniel was very ill.

Rebecca sighed as she held her handmade book. While she flipped through the pages, her thoughts drifted to Beth. And William.

She hadn't known Beth long, but Rebecca felt a strong bond with Daniel's wife. Beth was an open, honest woman who spoke her mind. Rebecca admired the way Beth struggled to accept obstacles and deal with them.

In a way, Rebecca did the same. She considered the changes in her own life and her longing to do what was right. She imagined herself in Beth's position.

Their situations were similar, really. Beth worried about losing Daniel. And Rebecca fretted about losing William. But why? Even though he hadn't indicated a problem with their relationship, circumstances had driven him to change.

Needless to say, being English certainly wasn't a hardship. Rebecca admitted a liking to the amazing round porcelain bathtub that oozed warm, bubbly water from the side jets.

But Rebecca was an Amish girl, heart and soul. She still planned to follow in her mother's footsteps. Even though she had been exposed to easy-to-get-used-to comforts, she would eventually leave them behind, and they would become nothing more than nice memories.

But could William let them go? The question nagged at Rebecca. She frowned as she shifted her weight and rested on her elbow. Thoughtfully, she placed the prayer book in front of her.

After dinner, William had played with the television remote to find the ESPN channel. Rebecca hadn't missed the happy expression on his face as he had flipped through the channels.

And his interest in Beth's car was obvious. He hadn't said so, but Rebecca had watched him check out the interior on more than one occasion.

She couldn't stop his interest in these un-Amish amenities. But what if he began to like the English way of life too much? What if they grew apart?

Desperation swept up her arms and landed in her shoulders. She rolled them to rid herself of the uncomfortable sensation. What would she do?

She shifted onto her back and rested the book on her stomach.

She'd calmly assured William's stepmom that Beth would find strength to carry on. By the same token, if Rebecca lost William, she would need to heed her own advice. But how? She was expected to marry, bear children, and work side by side with her husband. Amish rules weren't etched in stone, but she knew them by heart.

Rebecca planned to marry the man she loved. But what if circumstances forced them apart? Would she replace him?

She didn't believe she could marry someone just for the sake of producing children. She needed love.

Her shoulders tensed as she thought of Daniel possibly asking William to become his business partner. As she considered William and what he wanted, that familiar scripture about love being unselfish once again came to mind.

Nonetheless, the thought still brought an ache to her chest. Not because she was selfish, but because of the significant change in their lives such an offer would cause if William accepted.

Rebecca directed her attention to the book. Holding it, her gaze landed on Mamma's neat printing. Rebecca whispered the reassuring words. Those very phrases she had read in church so many times. But she'd never really taken them to heart. Until now.

She contemplated the bishop's instruction to accomplish three unselfish, important goals at the Conrad home. Rebecca smiled a little.

This made her trip here more of a mission. Creating the goals gave her purpose. A way to serve God.

She decided on her first. It was to support and comfort Beth. To encourage her to rely on the faith she so desperately needed to see her through Daniel's illness. Rebecca felt a passionate desire to help William's stepmom.

Rebecca considered the task at hand. Stretching her legs, she frowned. Definitely, this objective was unselfish and important. But how to accomplish it?

She was only human. Unlike God, she couldn't work miracles. And Beth was in dire need of emotional support. What could Rebecca do to keep William's stepmother strong?

She shifted down on the pillows. She wanted to help Beth, but lacked experience and education.

She recalled their conversation. What a wonderful blessing it would be to give helpful advice to those in need. Offering support to Beth made Rebecca's life more purposeful and meaningful. But how to provide that much-needed encouragement?

While the question lingered in her mind, she switched her attention back to the small book. In a low, soft voice, she read the scripture in front of her. “‘To the one who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness.'” The verse was from Ecclesiastes. Rebecca raised her chin and digested the potent words.

In Arthur, she'd never given them much thought. Because she'd been secure. There had been no serious concerns. Nothing more than getting the chores done.

But now that she was exposed to new challenges, she realized how much she craved God's holy word. She sought His guidance like never before.

Mamma had once told her that every answer to life's problems lay in the Bible. That said, this must surely be the right scripture. What it meant was that God would help Rebecca to help Beth. At least, that's how Rebecca interpreted it.

She relaxed. Maybe she shouldn't worry so much. She was trying to take on something only God could direct her to do. In the meantime, she searched for her own answers.

She had told Beth that she was expected to follow in her mother's footsteps. That meant being a good wife and mother. Heeding the faith. But what if she could also have a career? Rebecca's heart picked up speed. She began giving that question serious consideration. Was it wrong to pursue a career that was conducive to her faith and Amish lifestyle?

There must be rewards in life besides being a good wife and mother. A nursing profession? Teacher? Counselor? Maybe even owning a floral shop. Couldn't there be opportunities for a career, and at the same time, serve the Lord?

In deep thought, she laid the book down and folded her hands over her chest. Question after question flitted through her mind until she stood and went to open her hope chest. It was inside this work of art that she had placed her concerns. Her dreams.

She gently traced her finger over the carved bouquet as she thought of Old Sam. What would he say if she told him her worries?

She got comfortable again against the bed frame and removed her notepaper and pen, wondering which proverb he would recite. She jotted the date at the top right-hand corner.

She poured out her heart and her soul on the lined paper. How she wanted to help Beth find comfort and strength. That she wanted Daniel to live, and for him and William to be close. That she missed her family. And Old Sam.

“I'm sure that God sent me here to fulfill many needs. I want to come through for Him. What if William chooses to remain in Indiana? Will he actually become Daniel's partner? Worse, what if he decides to become English?

“I love him. I also love my faith. But if it boils down to William or faith, which would I choose? Love or loyalty?”

Chapter Six

The following evening, dusk set in as William and Rebecca traversed the long, scenic trail behind the Conrad property. How could he tell her about Daniel's offer? It wasn't something that could be ignored. Because William yearned to be close to his father. But the more he thought about how to explain his wants to Rebecca, the harder broaching the subject became.

Old oak trees loomed ahead of them as they made their way down the hill. Large green leaves flitted back and forth with the warm breeze.

Being next to Rebecca provided him with a strong sense of security. Something he'd especially appreciated since his arrival in Indiana. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh as they walked the beautiful undeveloped land.

Ahead of them, the setting sun displayed deep, rich colors of orange and purple. The fading ball of light lingered in the western sky.

“Aenti Sarah always told me that each day's a miracle from God and that I should go to bed blessed to have been given an opportunity to serve Him. That the next day would hold even more blessings and another opportunity to live for Him.”

Rebecca darted him a quick glance. “Your aunt is a wise woman. I always admired her for her strength and wisdom. She's very much like Mamma.”

“And you.”

“I would be proud to be half as good as either of them.”

William thought of Aenti Sarah and wondered what advice she would give him now. Was he serving the Lord? William pondered the question. He worked hard to help his father. That must be for God. At the same time, William struggled to win his dad's long-awaited approval.

When Rebecca smiled, his heart fluttered. Rebecca always made him feel better. Even in the worst times.

William definitely wasn't proud of his bitterness. He tried to hide it. Cover it up. After all, there was no point in revealing his feelings. They would only add to an already damaged father-son relationship.

Changing the past was impossible, but he
could
create a better future for himself. Couldn't he? He struggled to forget all of the times he'd missed his dad.

William was sure Aenti Sarah loved him dearly. Treasured him like a son. She'd never said so, but she'd shown it by making sure he was well fed and tucked in every night. By ensuring that he'd done his homework. He missed her. An ache formed at the back of his neck.

William frowned. He was weak. Uncle John would be ashamed of him. He should be brave and strong. Unafraid of the unknown.

“I remember when I was seven.”

“What happened?”

“I was bailing hay with Uncle John.” William shook his head and blew out a breath. “It must have been a hundred degrees that day. I told him I needed a break.”

“And?”

“What I got was a nice lecture on how a man doesn't complain about being tired. Or about lifting something heavy. Or about being hot.”

Rebecca pressed her lips together.

“A man does what he has to do. And that's that.” A grin tugged at William's lips as he recalled those words. He pictured his tall uncle running his hand through his long, gray beard as he spoke. In fact, William could almost hear the gruff timbre of his uncle's voice.

Rebecca giggled. “Your uncle's one tough man. I don't think I'd want to bale hay with him. Knowing him, he'd never get tired.”

William nodded.

While he remembered his uncle's words, he wished he could be what everyone expected of him. But he couldn't. Not right now, anyway. Because he was scared. And homesick.

The realization prompted blood to rush to his cheeks, and he hoped Rebecca wouldn't notice. He had never really realized how much he loved Aenti Sarah who'd waited after school for him at the front door.

His thoughts drifted back to her small kitchen, where he chatted with her while she set the dinner table. He missed being reminded to drink his milk. William cherished those motherly good-night kisses on his cheek. The sparkle in her eyes as she folded his socks.

“I wish Aenti Sarah owned more sophisticated things to make her chores easier. She does it all the hard way.”

“So does Mamma.”

“They both work so hard. But I can't help but think of how much more Aenti Sarah could accomplish if she owned Beth's appliances.”

“True. But she's tough, William. About as strong-minded as your uncle. And as stubborn. If she owned English things, do you honestly believe she'd use them?”

William shrugged and furrowed a doubtful brow.

Finally, he chuckled. “That'll be the day when Aenti Sarah tosses a load of towels into a Maytag, adds detergent, pushes a button, and goes about her other business while the machine works.”

He imagined her with a television set and grinned. “I could never picture her watching soaps. Or driving an automobile.”

A breeze caressed the back of his neck. As they stepped down a hill on the trail, Aenti Sarah stayed on his mind. He appreciated what an amazing woman she was. He considered himself fortunate to have her. She was the most conservative person he'd ever met. A strict Amish woman who didn't deviate from the rules. She loved her horse and buggy. And he'd never heard her complain.

She was his second mother. His gut ached. He realized his main problem. He had been trying to figure out the source of his grief. Now he knew.

A great wave of acceptance came over him. His father's illness wasn't the true root of his sadness.

“I miss Mom.” His voice cracked.

Pressing his lips together in agony, he stopped and turned to Rebecca. He searched her face for comfort. “I really miss her, Rebecca. I feel such a huge void in my life. I'd give anything to have her back.”

To his dismay, salty tears stung his eyes. His bottom lip quivered. He silently scolded himself and fought to stop the sadness that hit him. Determined to act like a man, he bit his tongue.

Rebecca sighed in sympathy. “I'm so sorry, William. Of course, you miss her. And I'm sure that being here with Daniel has brought back memories of the three of you together. It must be an emotional time. And I feel helpless that I can't bring her back for you. If I could, I would. Because I wish she were here, too.”

William struggled to compose himself. “If she hadn't died, we would still be in Arthur.”

“Yes.”

“And I wouldn't be fighting the resentment I feel for Dad and Beth.” He swallowed and continued in a hoarse voice. “If Mom were alive, things would have been different. So different. Why did God take her? I wish He'd taken me instead.”

Their gazes locked, and sympathy emanated from her eyes. Right now, he needed more than medicine. He needed a mother. And she was gone.

“Oh, William.”

They stood in silence. He watched as she gently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I love you, Rebecca.”

She looked up at him. “I love you, too, William. More than you could ever know.”

He sighed, then smiled a little, and they continued their walk. The dry brush crunched under their shoes. Tall pine trees scented the air with a fresh, Christmassy smell.

“William, your mother wouldn't want you to hurt.”

“But that doesn't take away my pain. She's not here, and I need her. It seems like she's been gone forever. If only I had a picture. At least I'd be able to look at her. But we don't take photos. So there's nothing but memories.”

“At least, they're good ones, jah?”

“Oh yes. Do you realize that it's been nearly a decade since she passed on? I'll never forget her.”

Rebecca hesitated before lowering her voice a notch. “You're a lot like her.”

He glanced at her and raised a curious brow. “How?”

“You inherited her best traits.” Rebecca stopped and turned to William. “I was little when she passed, but Mamma says you have her eyes. Her smile. Even her brows. But more importantly, William, you have her tenacity. That's something to be proud of.”

“What do you mean?”

They continued their walk. Every once in awhile, William's hand brushed Rebecca's. Even though touching her wasn't exactly appropriate, William savored the much-needed comforting sensation.

“Her strength. Her perseverance. When she fought cancer, the doctors wrote her off, but she refused to give in. She always had faith, William. She fought hard to stay alive. I remember her telling me that she would fight till the end. And she did. I'm sure it was a battle because she must have endured terrible pain. I admired her so much, William. She was an amazing role model.”

William gave a sad shake of his head. “I'm so sorry I couldn't have done more for her. At the time, I didn't realize how tough things were.” He shrugged. “Because she never complained. And to be honest, I don't think I wanted to acknowledge that she was terminally ill. I'm sure she didn't want to focus on cancer. In fact, she probably wouldn't have lasted as long as she did, if she had.”

“You've got a point. Remember, you were only a child. Kids usually don't understand the pain their parents go through. How can they? They're not mature enough. Or experienced. I think you did the best thing you could have done for her.”

“What?”

“Just being there. Talking to her. And helping her get through each day. It's probably best that you didn't focus on her illness. Old Sam told me that Miriam was the kind of woman who didn't want to worry anyone, especially her own son. That was one of her remarkable traits.”

“I still wish I had helped more.”

“You were wonderful. You did your chores. I'm sure your folks couldn't have made it without you. You never disobeyed them. You were there day in and day out. Remember that scripture about love being the greatest gift?”

Lowering his head, he nodded slowly.

Rebecca lifted her chin. “Never underestimate the value of memories. They get us through life. And they can also serve as important teaching tools.” She paused. “William, you couldn't have had a nicer mamma. When I visited, she always managed a smile.”

William grinned. “She was happy.”

“Jah. In fact, I don't even recall her mentioning her illness. Instead, she asked about me.” Rebecca smiled a little. “She was always interested in what we learned at school. I think she would have made a great teacher. She made sure we did our homework.”

William rolled his eyes. “I remember.”

“And she loved talking scripture. Be proud of your mamma, William. I saw a bumper sticker once that said, ‘How many years you live doesn't matter. It's how much life you put into those years that's important. '”

“That makes sense. Obviously, whoever said it never lost someone. It's easy to give advice when you have everything.”

“Just think of all your mamma did. Even when she was sick. It's pretty amazing, really. Old Sam mentioned that she packed more into her short life than most eighty-year-olds. And in a sense, you're carrying on with her wishes.”

“What do you mean?”

Rebecca's voice reflected surprise. “Just what I said. She had a life full of goals. But her efforts didn't die. Because when she passed on, you continued fulfilling her wishes.”

William thought about what Rebecca said.

“She loved Daniel, William. Just like she loved you. She spent her life taking care of the two of you. Now that she's not here, you've taken her place. Just look at all you've done for your dad. I can honestly tell you that she would appreciate you being here for him. But it's not only that. I won't forget when you told me about coming here.”

They turned to each other. Rebecca smiled. William's heart warmed as the light in her eyes helped fill the emptiness. When he looked at her, his pain lessened. With her, he could endure almost anything.

He considered Rebecca's take on him helping his father. “Anyone else would have done the same thing.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Don't be so sure about that. I think you're not giving yourself enough credit for what you've done.” She laughed a little. “You've got to admit that this was a pretty bold move for someone who had never even left Illinois.”

He couldn't hold back a grin. “You've got a point.”

“Leaving your aunt and uncle was brave, William.”

Rebecca's tone was upbeat. They stepped to a faster pace.

“And you didn't hesitate. As soon as you got that call, you decided to come. You made up your mind to do what was right. You stepped right into Daniel's shoes and took over for him. And did an excellent job, I might add. Especially when you think about how far behind he was in his orders.”

Exhaling a satisfied breath, William raised his chin. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I have no regrets about what I'm doing.”

“Good.”

“But I'm not sure I want to fill my father's shoes.”

Rebecca glanced at him.

“Most boys want to be like their dads. Not me. I would never have left my son.” He raised a hand. “No matter what happened. There are no circumstances that would excuse deserting your own flesh and blood. I don't think he realizes how I suffered. And to be blunt, it was a selfish move on his part. And Beth's. What they did affected my whole life.”

Rebecca let out a small, helpless sigh. “I agree. But it just goes to show that life certainly isn't perfect. And neither are your folks. But take lessons from the past. There's no use fretting over what happened, because you can't undo it. You've said that yourself. Unfortunately, there's no opportunity to ask Daniel to go back in time and change things. This situation isn't like retaking a math test.”