Rebecca's Choice (39 page)

Rebecca was certain a smile played on Bishop’s face, but he cleared his throat again and said, “There is one question we need to ask. We ask all our young people this because it is important that marriage begins in God. It’s also important that the foundation of marriage be laid in God’s laws. Have you, John, and you, Rebecca, conducted your courtship with honor? Are you
frei
from each other?”

Because she hadn’t quite expected the question put so bluntly, Rebecca felt red creep up her neck, but she nodded along with John.

“I am glad to hear that,” Bishop said, but Rebecca was certain he didn’t look surprised. She had heard lectures from Bishop before on the dangers of courtship. Bishop was not a man who expected his words ignored.

What followed were further instructions on how a man and wife needed to communicate and share everything. Finances were explained in detail, from sharing a joint checking account to consulting together on business decisions great or small.

“A man is the head of his home,” Bishop said, “yet he is not so without his wife. Women often see dangers men cannot see. A wise man will listen to what his wife has to tell him. I hope you two get along.”

Rebecca saw Isaac grin at that comment but hide it when Bishop looked his way.

The others took their turns, addressing much of the same information, adding their own stories of battles fought and battles won. When they were dismissed, the ministers stayed upstairs, while John and Rebecca walked back downstairs and took their seats again. Around them the singing continued until the line of ministers appeared at the top of the stairs.

Preaching seemed to go on forever, Rebecca thought, probably because she sat in front where everyone could see the slightest move she made. John looked tense too, his hands clasped in front of him. The two sets of witnesses on either side seemed in a little better shape, but then they weren’t the ones the people looked at.

Finally, twelve o’clock came, and Bishop got to his feet.

“If these two are still willing to be joined as man and wife, will you, John and Rebecca, come forward.”

Rebecca hoped she wouldn’t faint, as she stood to follow John. They moved toward Bishop.

The bishop looked upon the young couple’s faces, and then he asked, “Do you believe, John Miller, that this, our sister Rebecca Keim, is given to you by God to be your wife?”

John said, “Yes.”

“Will you take her hand in holy matrimony, to be your helpmeet in sickness, in health, in tragedy, and in joy? To stand by her, as Christ has instructed us, until death parts you?”

“Yes,” John nodded.

Bishop turned slightly to face Rebecca. She had a flash of fear. Could someone stop this yet? Perhaps Bishop would be unable to say the words and change his mind, but his voice reached her with the same questions. She said “yes” to them all.

Then Bishop took their hands, laid John’s hands on top of Rebecca’s, and said, “To the will of God, I now commit these two, our brother and sister. May they be blessed with the abundance and grace of the Most High. May His most Holy Spirit dwell in their home, and may you both, with us, find an end in that heavenly dwelling on high. You are now man and wife.”

Bishop let go of their hands, and they sat down as the last song was sung. When it was finished, John got up first and led the way, Rebecca at his shoulder. The two pairs of witnesses followed. Out in the yard, two robins and their young took off, with a quick flutter of their wings. Rebecca had mist in her eyes, as they approached the pole barn and entered. They walked slowly past the tables laden with food—baked chicken, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, dressing and noodles, vegetables, cole slaw, pies, date pudding, and sheet cake. Bowls of canned fruit and celery sticks served mainly as decorations.

At the corner table, John slid in first, followed by Rebecca. He held her hand briefly under the table. “You are my wife,” he whispered, but she could only nod as she met his eyes and pressed back the tears.

On either side, the witnesses sat down. The guests slowly made their way in and sat down. Only soft whispers rose from the tables until prayer was announced, and then the conversations grew louder.

John glanced at Rebecca and grinned. “Now I’m a rich man.”

“Not in money,” she said, pretending to glare at him.

He laughed, “No… just in the kind that lasts. A wonderful woman.”

“We’ll see how long that sweet talk lasts,” she said and made a face at him.

“All of our life together,” he declared and sliced his fork through the piece of pecan pie. “Completely all of it.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-ONE

R
achel spent the day in agony, not just physical because her time to give birth had come but of soul. She wouldn’t have gone to the West Union wedding anyway. This handy excuse just made things easier. How had Rebecca dared to ask Luke to be a witness at her wedding? Sure, she knew it was for John’s side, but Rebecca had something to do with it. Rachel was certain of it.

In a twist of fate she hadn’t expected, the goats were still on the farm. After Reuben’s funeral she had gone over the books just to be sure, but already knew the answer. She would have to keep them out of financial necessity. They were the largest income producer on the farm, and she needed income.

So the thing that Reuben had kept at a distance now needed to be handled daily. It was an affront to the depths of her being. Luke came by often, out of compassion she figured or for the sake of his father’s memory. Either reason rankled Rachel.

They never spoke of the inheritance, Luke for his own reasons she could well imagine. She had simply given up any hope of ever receiving it. News of Rebecca’s wedding, apparently approved by the bishop, had reached her even before Luke was asked to be a witness. Protest was useless, Rachel knew. She determined to bear the burden given her in silence.

When her labor increased that morning, Rachel drove herself to the midwife’s house. With no husband to take her, Rachel didn’t waste time on self-pity. It was just the way things were. On the way she stopped in at Ezra’s house to let him know she needed someone to do the chores because Luke was gone. When she arrived at the midwife’s home, she was ushered right in to a room that had been prepared for such purposes.

The midwife didn’t seem surprised when Rachel showed up. “Is Luke at the wedding?” she commented more than asked.

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“How close are the contractions?”

“Ten minutes apart.”

“Sit down on the couch, then. I’ll take you back soon.”

Rachel did as she was told, and the afternoon dragged on. She hated every moment of this. While she birthed Reuben’s baby, Rebecca was enjoying her wedding meal. She was, no doubt, full of delight at the thought of her abundant life ahead—a life with plenty of money in it.

It was after two when the hard work began, and the afternoon and evening dragged on. Not till after ten did the midwife hold the child in her hands. Rachel could see, in spite of exhaustion, the child was a boy. She lay back, glad it was over.

Soon the child would be in her arms, and her heart leapt in anticipation, in spite of herself.
But we have no money,
she thought and felt the sorrow of her lot.
I’m alone with no husband and now a young child to raise. Yet I like him even if I’m poor,
she thought in amazement.

The silence soon startled her. Rachel raised her head. The midwife had her back turned and seemed focused on the child, as if she had forgotten Rachel.

“Is something wrong?” Rachel asked.

The midwife didn’t turn around or answer.

Rachel tried to sit up but was too weak. “I hear nothing,” she said.

The midwife turned slowly, the child in her hands. “He never breathed,” she said, “not even for a second. I’m sorry.”

Rachel felt the pain swell up with great waves and crash into her heart. The pain was greater than that of childbirth. She cried aloud from the agony. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the news, and her body felt as if it had been torn apart.

“It is
Da Hah’s villa,
” the midwife said. Her voice was gentle, but the words passed through Rachel like arrows.

“He’s taken my husband. He’s taken our money. Now He’s taken my son,” she screamed, her head falling back on the pillow, her face contorted with passion. “How can He do this. What have I done to deserve such treatment? Have I left the faith? Have I been unfaithful to my husband? Have I so sinned?”

“It is none of those,” the midwife said, quickly laying the still child on the table and turning her attentions to Rachel. She ran her hand across Rachel’s forehead, the fingers gently moving her hair out of the way. “You must not say so. It’s not your fault. Of course you lived your life… obeyed Him.”

“Then why?” Rachel asked. “Why must I suffer so?”

“Now… now. You didn’t mean any of that.” The midwife ran her hand across her forehead again. “I’ll send Norman to tell Bishop Mose in the morning. I doubt if he’ll want a funeral.”

Rachel stared out the window and tried to compose herself. Life must go on, even when it becomes too hard she told herself.

The midwife wrapped the child in a white blanket and took him across the hall to the other bedroom. Rachel heard her footsteps go out to the kitchen, then return. She proceeded to clean up the room and make Rachel comfortable.

“I’ve got soup warming,” she whispered. “It will do you good.”

Rachel nodded, surprised she could be hungry, but she was. The bowl of vegetable soup brought a measure of comfort. She ate it quickly and handed the bowl back to the midwife.

“You sleep now. I’ll take care of things in the morning.”

Rachel lay in the darkness when the bedroom door shut, the pain still stung in her chest. She didn’t want to think, to wonder what lay ahead of her. Sleep was a welcome guest at the moment. A wave of loneliness overwhelmed her, and she wept until sleep came.

Bishop Mose and his wife both came in the morning and spoke what words of comfort they could. They said the child would be buried that day beside Reuben, that their sons would dig the grave, but there would be no funeral. Bishop’s wife brought the white wrapped bundle in for her to see and asked whether she wished to be at the gravesite. Rachel, after she lifted the blanket, shook her head.

While they attended to her, the midwife left for town to register the birth certificate. Bishop and his wife had to leave before she returned. Rachel watched them go. The white bundle lay on the back seat of the buggy.

She felt nothing. Her whole insides were frozen, as if great sheets of ice had fallen on them. By noon the midwife came back and fixed lunch. Rachel felt well enough to travel, and the midwife hitched the horse to the buggy. She insisted she take Rachel in her buggy. Her husband would pick her up when he was done with chores, she said.

Rachel felt this was all a waste of time and said so to no avail. She was driven home, then ushered into the house before the midwife unhitched and fed the horse. Ezra came by later to tend the goats. He came into the house, when he saw the buggy.

“So what is it?” he hollered, apparently in an attempt at cheer.

“He was stillborn. Bishop’s taking care of him,” the midwife told Ezra.

Rachel, from where she lay in the bedroom, heard the shock in Ezra’s voice. “Not again.”

“There was nothing we could do,” the midwife told him. “I’m fixing something for supper now.”

“So that’s why there’s no help here,” Ezra said. “I wondered.”

“She had the Burkholder girl lined up, I think. But we didn’t stop in. I guess I should have let her know. She’s probably wondering.”

“I’ll send someone,” Ezra told her. “We’ll be here for the night, then.”

“It would be good. She took it pretty hard.”

Rachel heard footsteps, then Ezra stood in the bedroom doorway.

“You must not blame yourself,” he said. “It is all in
Da Hah’s
hands.”

“They’re all gone,” she said. Tears stung her cheeks. The vast emptiness of the house pressed in on her.

“Elizabeth and I will come back,” Ezra said. “Elizabeth can stay with you part of the day tomorrow. It might help.”

“Nothing will help me,” Rachel whispered.

“You must not talk so. I’ll do the chores. We’ll be back.” And then his footsteps faded away.

The midwife brought in a plate of food for her but had to leave when her husband came. They left before Ezra and Elizabeth returned. Rachel got up and walked around a while. Her gaze fell upon the checkbook, and she wondered how she would continue to exist. Goats and more goats stretched out into her financial future, as far as she could see.

Ezra and Elizabeth returned around nine and found her still at the desk, bills and checks lay all around. Elizabeth made her go right back to bed.

“You’ll have plenty of time for money problems later,” she told Rachel.

Sleep came sooner than she expected, the weight of her body’s weariness simply overwhelming her.