Love Inspired November 2013 #2 (17 page)

“Dorcas.”

“Now hear me out, Caleb. I don't mean to hurt you. You're a good, respectable man, even a passable preacher, although your sermons are still too short. But the truth is, I'm not romantically attracted to you, and I never will be.”

He stared. Had she just said what he thought he'd heard? “I don't—”

Dorcas's right palm rose inches from his face, cutting him off in midsentence. “Give me the courtesy to allow me to finish. You won't change my mind.” She pressed her chapped lips together. “I know that this will disappoint you. And I know that you may be my last chance to find a husband—not to mention how upset my parents are. But I refuse to settle.”

“I—”

She eyed him sternly and then went on. “Think me foolish if you like, but I want a marriage like Ruth has, like Anna, Johanna and Miriam. I want what my Yoder cousins have. And if God doesn't send me a man that I can love with my whole heart, then it's clear He intends for me to remain single.”

* * *

In the kitchen, Rebecca pulled out a chair and helped her weeping Aunt Martha into it. “What is it?” Rebecca asked. She'd never seen Aunt Martha cry. “Has something bad happened? Please tell me. You're scaring me.”

Aunt Martha buried her face in her hands. She was still wearing her heavy wool cloak and bonnet. She'd refused to take them off.

Amelia and Fritzy wandered into the kitchen. Amelia was eating a cinnamon crisp. “Are we going now?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Rebecca waved the child away. “I'm talking to Aunt Martha. Go up to your room and play. I'll call you when we're ready.” She didn't let her argue. “Please do as I say, Amelia.”

With a grimace, Amelia retraced her steps. Fritzy followed her, eyes watching the floor in case a crumb dropped.

“Now.” Rebecca returned to stand beside her aunt and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what's wrong.”

Aunt Martha groaned. “It's my Dorcas.”

“She's not sick, is she?”

Aunt Martha shifted her black-rimmed glasses lower, turned her head and peered up over the top of them. “Dorcas is breaking off with Caleb.”

“What?” Weak-kneed, Rebecca dropped into the chair nearest her aunt.

“I know it's hard to believe, but Dorcas refuses to court him. She's breaking the news to him now. Her father is furious.”

“Uncle Reuben is furious?” Rebecca hadn't heard Uncle Reuben take a stand on anything as long as she could remember. She concentrated on what her aunt had just said, and hope made her heart race. “Dorcas doesn't want to marry Caleb?” she repeated woodenly.

“Are you deaf? It's what I said, isn't it?”

Rebecca nodded.

“I want her to be happy. My only daughter. Why wouldn't I?” Aunt Martha tugged on the strings of her black hat. “Foolish of me, I know.” Her lower lip quivered. “What will we do if Caleb causes a scandal? He'll be disappointed, I know.”

“Uncle Reuben?”

“Not your uncle,” Aunt Martha replied sharply. “
Caleb.
Caleb will be disappointed. How will it look for his position? People will say she dumped him.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That there's something wrong with him. More than the obvious,” she added.

“Maybe not,” Rebecca ventured.

“Oh, they will. I can hear it now. Everyone will be trying to guess what secret he's hiding.” Martha rocked back and forth, a picture of misery. “A disaster. But I have to stand by my daughter. If she won't listen to reason, then we must make the best of her decision.”

Rebecca reached for her aunt's hand. “You mean you and Uncle Reuben won't try to force her to reconsider Caleb?”

“What kind of mother do you think I am? I'm not like my
mam.
” Aunt Martha's eyes narrowed. “Dorcas thinks Caleb's dull. As boring as dried peas without pork fat, she said.”

Rebecca started to defend Caleb and then thought better of it.

Her aunt glanced around and continued in a whisper. “You think I'm old and sour, but I had a young man once. Barnabas Troyer. We were young, and he was poor. Didn't even own a horse. Poorer even than we were, but we loved each other. Not a foolish fancy, but real love.”

Compassion made her squeeze Aunt Martha's hand.

Martha sniffed and pried her hand loose. “Barnabas begged me to marry him, said we'd move to Missouri and start over, but I listened to my parents. I let him get away.”

Rebecca exhaled softly. “I didn't know.”

“Of course, you didn't. How would you know? How would anyone know? Eventually, I married Reuben. And you know how he is. A good enough man, a preacher, even, but never going to set the world on fire. Oh, we manage, all right. But, I'll say it once and never again. Your uncle was never one for hard work. It's his only weakness.” She shook her head. “Mine was not taking real love when I found it.”

Rebecca's heart was pounding so hard that she imagined Aunt Martha could hear it.

“I want more for Dorcas than making do. No matter what people say about her or our new preacher, I'm behind her one hundred percent. If she doesn't want to marry him, then she doesn't have to.”

Rebecca's head was spinning. “But...why did you want to tell me?”

Aunt Martha lifted her head. “Because I know you can sway him. For whatever reason, he seems to listen to you. You need to make sure he doesn't make a fuss of this. Over my Dorcas rejecting him. Another woman will come along. He's a decent enough catch. Even with the—” she indicated the left side of her face “—you know.”

“I—” Rebecca didn't know what to say. She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“Maybe you should think about it. You're not getting any younger, you know.” Aunt Martha rose. “Anyway, you'll have to forget all this nonsense about going to Brazil. You can't think of yourself, Rebecca. Your family needs you.”

* * *

Five minutes later a stunned Rebecca and Caleb stood alone on the back porch as Aunt Martha's buggy rolled away through the falling snow. Speechless, Rebecca handed Caleb his coat that she'd snatched off the hook when she'd followed her aunt out of the house.

He slipped into it. “It's snowing,” he said, turning back to her.

“Ya.”
She looked up into his eyes. “It is.”

His cold hand closed around her waist and he pulled her into his arms. “I think I've been dumped,” he murmured into her hair.

Trembling, she nodded. He smelled of cedar, wood chips, leather and molasses. She rested her head against his chest, not caring that allowing such liberties was reckless. She wanted to seize this moment and hold it forever. How right it felt, how safe and proper. How perfect.

“So I'm a free man,” he continued.

“
Ya,
Caleb,” she whispered. “I think you must be.”

He tilted her chin up with cold fingers and pressed his warm lips against hers. The tender touch of his mouth and the nearness of him overwhelmed her and she felt giddy. “How will it look?” he asked.

“Look?” She blinked as clouds of snowflakes whirled around them.

A deep chuckle of laughter shook his chest. “Me, a preacher of the church, here alone with a beautiful woman on Christmas Eve? I suppose we'll have to remedy that and make it proper.”

Hope made her daring, and she raised her head to meet his second kiss: tender, sweet and full of promise. “How could you make this proper?”

“Must I spell it out for you, girl?”

She smiled up at him through her tears of joy. “I think you must.”

“Will you be my wife, Rebecca Yoder? Will you marry me and make me the happiest man in Kent County?”

“Just Kent County?”

A grin spread across his face. “I was going to say the happiest man in Delaware, but I thought that you'd accuse me of pride. And pride is not a good trait for a man of God.”

“You mention marriage, but not love.” She pressed her lips together. “Do you love me, Caleb?”

“I love you, and I want you to be my wife and Amelia's mother—as soon as the banns can be called.”

“What?” she teased, already thinking the same thing. “No courting?”

“Rebecca, darling, don't you know? We've been courting since the evening when I saved you in my barn.”

She laid her palm gently over the scarred side of his face and gazed up into his dark eyes. “Or, maybe,” she ventured, “maybe I saved you.”

The intensity of his embrace nearly took her breath away. “Say you'll be my wife, Rebecca, or we're both in a great deal of trouble.”

“
Ya,
Caleb,” she replied. “I'll marry you, but it will have to wait until I get back from Brazil. I promised my sister. Three months, and then we'll be together.”

“All right,” he agreed. “You drive a hard bargain, but I've waited a long time. A little longer won't matter.”

“Dat!” Amelia called, coming out onto the porch. “It's snowing! And we have to deliver our cookies for Christmas!”

“So we do,” Caleb answered and then met Rebecca's gaze again. “Together, as a family.”

And that's exactly what they did.

Epilogue

Christmas Eve, one year later

“A
re you warm enough?” Caleb looked both ways before guiding the horse and buggy onto the blacktop. He, Rebecca and Amelia were on their way home after making several Christmas Eve visits to elderly members of their church community. He'd wanted to make certain that no one was alone or in need tonight. They'd brought pies, vegetable soup and apples to give as token gifts, and perhaps most important, they'd taken time to visit at each stop.

“
Ya,
Dat.” Amelia's small voice came from the back of the buggy where she was snuggled down under a quilt with Fritzy and a new addition to the family, Joy.

The half poodle, half lab puppy, a stray that Rebecca's sister Grace had rescued and nursed back to health, had been an early Christmas gift for his daughter. When Grace and Rebecca had hatched the plan, he'd been a little skeptical, because he didn't know how Fritzy would take to a new dog. He should have known better. Most of Rebecca's ideas were good ones, and it was a toss-up as to whether Amelia or Fritzy was more taken with the pup.

“What about you?” Caleb asked, glancing over at his wife. “Warm enough?”

“
Ya,
Caleb,” she answered. “Toasty warm. And why wouldn't I be in my new mittens and scarf?”

He'd found the scarf on a trip to the mall with some of the boys he'd taken under his wing after the incident the winter before. The scarf was long and blue, and as soft as duck down. The color was a little brighter than some might think suitable for a preacher's wife, but the price and practicality of the gift made it impossible to pass up. And fancy scarf or not, no one could find fault with Rebecca as a role model for other young women.

“I was wrong,” he admitted. “When I thought you were too flighty.”

Rebecca didn't answer. That was something else he valued about her. As quick as she was to stand up for herself or give an opinion, she knew when to listen and let a man say what was on his mind.

“When Clarence Troyer had to have his appendix out, you offered to keep their five children so that Margaret could stay at the hospital with him through it all,” Caleb said. “And when Susan King wanted to die at home, it was you who organized the neighborhood women so that someone was always with her and Paul, day and night.”

“It was little enough to do for them.”

Caleb slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him on the seat. Their legs pressed against one another under the lap robe, and his heart swelled with happiness that he'd found this woman to be his partner and the mother of his child. “I misjudged you, Rebecca. I thought that a devout woman had to be a serious one, but I was wrong about that, too.” He leaned nearer and kissed her forehead. “You've made my house a home,” he whispered hoarsely, “and I love you for it.”

“The two of us, working together as a team.” Rebecca smiled. “That's what makes the difference. You and me and Amelia, a real family.”

“Am I a good husband?” he asked. “Do I make you happy?”

“Every day I thank God for bringing you to me.”

He chuckled and flicked the reins over the horse's back. “I've wondered, but I was afraid to ask if you were disappointed in me.”

“Never. You're strong and smart and—”

“A little stuffy,” he supplied.

She laughed. “Sometimes, but I know you'll always do what's right, like you did with Irwin and the others. Aren't you pleased with them? With how they are maturing? Yours was a good plan, Caleb. To have them fill their spare time with useful deeds instead of mischief.”

“I credit you with any good I've done with those boys,” he said to Rebecca. “It might have been my idea, but I doubt I'd have had the courage to follow through if you hadn't seen the value in it.”

She snuggled closer to him. “Didn't I just say we made a good pair?” she teased. “You're too modest by half. And if I've made a passable preacher's wife, it's because you've been there every step of the way, holding me up.” It wasn't like Caleb to open his heart to her, but she didn't need words to know that he loved her. Anyone who said that marriage was easy wasn't being honest, but she loved Caleb more tonight than she had on the day they'd pledged their vows to each other.

It was as cold as it had been on the previous Christmas Eve when he'd asked her to be his wife, but tonight there was no snow. The stars were bright against a velvet sky, and the horse's breaths made white puffs in the frosty air. She loved the familiar rhythm of the buggy wheels and the animal's hooves on the road. “I was hoping for a white Christmas.”

“No snow in sight,” Caleb answered. He'd turned into their lane. “There's something for you in the barn. Thought I'd give it to you tonight and leave Christmas morning for Amelia.”

Rebecca sat up straight. “But you've already given me this beautiful scarf and new mittens.”

“Snow boots for you under the bed. Fur lined, just for around the house. Wouldn't do for church. Not
plain
enough for—”

“For a preacher's wife?” she finished. They laughed together.

“Can't have you with wet feet, can I? Delaware doesn't get much snow, but we're good for rain and mud in winter.”

“We are that,” she agreed. “But you shouldn't have spent any more money on me. You've already hired Verna Beachy to come three days a week to help me with the housework.”

“Made sense. You're doing more and more of my accounts for the wood-carving business. Not to mention the time you spend visiting those in need in the community. But I thought something else would come in handy.” He drove to the barn and reined in the horse by the wide double doors. “Come see what I have in here,” he said. He helped Rebecca down and then went around to open the back doors. One small daughter, one small dog and one bigger one spilled out. The dogs barked and the girl giggled.

“I didn't tell, Dat,” Amelia said. “I kept the secret.”

“What secret?” Rebecca asked.

Caleb tied the horse to the hitching rail, took a battery lantern from the buggy and led the way into the stable. Rebecca and Amelia followed him past the empty stall, past where the cow was penned, to the last stall in the row. A sorrel mare with a white nose and a white blaze on her forehead hung her head over the railing.

“You bought a new horse?” Rebecca cried, going close enough to stroke the mare's head. “She's beautiful. What's her name?”

“Daisy. And she's not mine.” He grinned at her. “She's—”

“Yours!” Amelia squealed. “Dat bought her for you. And she has a cart!”

“For me?” Rebecca cried. “Oh, Caleb, thank you.” She flung herself into his arms and hugged him. “I love her, but why do I need a horse and cart?”

“So you can come and go as you see fit,” he answered. “Bishop Atlee said you were busy enough to need your own transportation, and I asked Charley to keep his eyes open for a likely prospect.” He stroked the horse's nose. “She's six years old, traffic wise and has no bad habits so far as I can see. Merry Christmas, Rebecca.”

“Merry Christmas, Mam!” Amelia echoed.

Tears clouded Rebecca's eyes.
This man... This child... This farm and this wonderful present... How could any woman ask for more?
She caught Caleb's broad hand and squeezed it tightly. “I love you,” she declared. “I love both of you!”

Amelia beamed and snatched up a handful of hay to feed Daisy. Daintily, the mare nibbled at the timothy.

“Come to think of it, I have a gift for you, too, Caleb.” Rebecca raised a finger to her lips, and when he bent his head to hear, she whispered her secret into his ear.

A broad grin split his face, and the light from the lantern reflected in his eyes. “When?”

“Late July or early August,” she murmured. “Merry Christmas, Caleb.”

Laughing, Caleb swung Amelia up into his arms and enveloped both her and Rebecca in a big hug. And in that instant, there was no place else in the world that Rebecca would rather be.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE FIREFIGHTER'S MATCH by Allie Pleiter.