Rebekah's Quilt (14 page)

Please, don’t continue.

Rebekah kept her hand still beneath his. “Joseph –” She pressed her hand deeper into the soft dirt. This particular spot would have been perfect worm hunting, had she been there to fish.

Not one to be deterred, Joseph stroked her fingers with his. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Rebekah.” His words echoed over the water and seemed to hang there between them, in the still spring air.

A lone tear slid down her cheek. “Joseph, Samuel and Elnora have always told all us kids what love was. They said people make it more difficult, but what a real, lasting love is, really is simple.” She pulled both her hands into her lap leaving Joseph’s alone in the dirt. Not bothering to wipe away the tear, she shifted to face him. “Love is understanding.”

Joseph bobbed his head. “My parents have said the same thing.”

Rebekah could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and having to say words that would cause him pain burned at the raw ends of her already broken heart. “I can’t love you if I don’t love myself … not the kind of love you deserve.” Rebekah stood and stepped toward the lake, unable to watch as she didn’t return his profession of the world’s most precious sentiment. “And I don’t understand anything right now, especially not myself.”

Joseph was silent.

“I’m sorry Joseph. I can’t love and understand you if I don’t love and understand myself.” With a tear streaked face, she finally turned away from the water. Joseph though, was no longer there.

Sinking to the ground, she folded her arms across her knees and rested her head upon them. Broken sobs tore from her throat, resonating from the depths of her very soul. Her shoulders shook and the tears were never ending. She had forced Joseph away, her oldest friend in the world. Now she was truly all alone.

The sun had already begun its daily rush toward the western horizon by the time Rebekah felt up to heading back to the Stoll homestead. She and Joseph had spent some of the day together, but the majority she had spent alone with her thoughts. With steps as painfully slow as she could muster, Rebekah trudged across a field of wheat that bordered the English road that led to Montgomery. Never before had she ever dared walk this close to the road, and alone at that.

Before she had gotten halfway across the waving wheat field, an English wagon came into view. The sounds of laughing children in the wagon bed tinkled through the air, much like the happy sound of water trickling in a creek.

Rebekah’s pulse thudded in her ears.
Should I run or should I hide here in the wheat?
Before she could decide, a movement from the opposite end of the road caught her eye. Turning, her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was an Amish buggy. Mr. Knepp must have been driving back from selling his hand hewn chairs in Montgomery. A wide grin parting her lips, the Knepp horse stumbled and fell before she could lift her arm to wave.

Adrenaline surged as a sickening knot formed in her throat, then promptly sank to the pit of her stomach. Her smile that had been on her lips moments before turned slowly into a frown. Slowing politely, the English wagon crept past the Amish buggy.

Heat burned in Rebekah’s cheeks and neck. “I cannot be one of them! They didn’t even stop to help Mr. –” Rebekah’s angry rant trailed off into the Indiana breeze as the English wagon ground to a halt in the road.

Curiosity winning out over any burst of fear, the heat in Rebekah cooled as the driver got down and trotted back to inspect Mr. Knepp’s horse.

“She’s lame,” the Englishman called back to his wagon. The musical laughter of the English children ceased as the Englishman’s wife got down and began unhooking one of their horses from the wagon.

With a pop, Rebekah’s jaw dropped as the Englishman, whistling a jolly tune that carried over on the breeze, proceeded to get Mr. Knepp’s old mare up and tied to the back of the buggy before carefully hooking up his own horse to the front.

When he’d finished, he stuck out his hand to Mr. Knepp. The pair nodded at each other before the Englishman rejoined his people in his own wagon and continued on his way.

“Or perhaps they could,” Rebekah thought, her smile returning as a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

She glanced at the horizon where the sun sank lower still. On this night, by moonlight, she would take the long way home.

An owl, no doubt hunting for a meal, hooted as she passed beneath a low hanging branch. Rebekah clutched her cape tighter about her shoulders. Normally, such an unexpected hoot under the cover of darkness would have frightened her, but not tonight. Tonight, she was on her own.

A skunk, mostly white, unlike most she’d seen, skittered along the bank of the stream. “Good evening, little skunk.” Rebekah watched as the smallish creature ran, her coat gleaming in the moon’s rays. “You look so soft.”

The skunk paused to sniff at a clump of reeds.

“You’ve always known who you are, what you are, where you come from.” She watched as the skunk disappeared into the understory. “Not like me.”

A voice came to her, as soft and gentle as the night’s breeze.
You love me and I love you. I will always be with you, and always love you, no matter what name you choose to go by.
Rebekah felt the words in her heart as much as she heard them in her mind.

A beaver eased into the water from his slide on the riverbank. A pair of night birds chittered overhead. There, amid some of God’s most innocent creatures, Rebekah began to pray aloud.

“Thank you, Father. I know you will always remain faithful, as will I. But what should I do? I am not who I thought I was. I chose not to live with the English on
rumspringa
and yet I
am
English!”

You are Rebekah Stoll, loved by Elnora and Samuel. And Joseph.

“But Father, they lied –”

And Peter. You are loved by Peter, too.

Rebekah considered this, quickening her steps. “Is it alright to love Joseph back?”

Nothing has changed. You are still you, Joseph is still him. He gave his heart to you with my blessing and after much prayer.

“Oh Father, but I’ve pushed all my family away, the only family I’ve ever known!” Rebekah lifted her skirt and began to trot. “I wish I had taken the short way home!” She swept along the path, breathing in the air that had taken on a chill. Her covering strings flounced about. “Please forgive me, Father. I am sorry for having acted selfishly.” She slowed her running and dropped to her knees. Clasping her hands together at her chin, Rebekah closed her eyes. “I ask for forgiveness in Jesus’ name. Please give me the words to apologize to my parents. I love them so and never meant to hurt them. And to Joseph. Amen.”

The peaceful voice was there again.
Never forget who you are, Rebekah Stoll. Go forth and show my love in your actions, in your words, in your thoughts.

Tears of humble gratitude shimmered on her lashes. “Thank you, Father.” Rising, Rebekah began to hurry along the path, but a foreign sound distracted her. From the understory, something was struggling, quaking the leaves on a low shrub. Whatever it was whimpered.

Rebekah knelt, holding back a limber branch with one hand. There, a snare around its paw stood a large porcupine. She scurried backward, letting the branch cover the stuck animal.

“Pa says not to go near porcupine,” she told the stuck creature from the safety of the other side of the leaves. “Those quills will hurt!”

It whimpered again, soft and helpless.

Looking down, two little shadows emerged from under the bush.

“Oh!” Rebekah let her eyes adjust to the falling darkness. “Are these your babies?” Two tiny quilled creatures milled about, not straying far from their mother. The mother porcupine whimpered again.

“The English must have set snares, though I can’t figure why. Pa mentioned people called trappers once, but I’ve never seen one.” Gingerly, she pulled back the branch again. The mother porcupine pulled at the snare in an attempt to dislodge her foot. She succeeded only in making it tighter.

Show my love in your actions, to all my creatures.

Rebekah realized what she must do. Squatting, she held the branch back with her body while being ever careful not to squash any baby porcupines. “Alright Mama, I’m going to talk to you while I set you free from that snare.”

The large porcupine stood still, her dark eyes studying Rebekah’s every move.
God help me.

Slowly, Rebekah eased her hands forward. “Now Mama, I’m going to lift you up so I can loosen that snare. Don’t be scared though, I’m scared enough for both of us.” Cautiously, Rebekah slid her hands beneath the prickly animal.

“Good job, Mama.” Shifting her weight, she held the hefty animal against her side with one hand and worked the snare rope free of her paw with the other. “Now, we’re almost done and you’ll be free to go along your way with your family.”
Family
.

Easing the mother porcupine down, Rebekah ignored the sheen of sweat that had formed on her neck. “All done.”

The mother porcupine’s large nostrils flared as she breathed in Rebekah’s scent. Her babies still meandered around, oblivious to the goings on. Pressing her flat face against Rebekah’s hand, the mother porcupine gave a
whuff
before turning away.

Rebekah sucked in her lower lip, waiting for any quills to fly. They didn’t. The large porcupine, who weighed about as much as Beanie, lumbered into the woods with her babies trailing behind her.

Through me, all things are possible
.

“Even coming back from this mess is possible,” Rebekah reasoned aloud. “If I can free a wild animal from a trap, I can get over being human!”

Enthusiasm filled her mind, replacing the emptiness, fear, and resentment that had threatened to consume her. Suddenly eager to get home, Rebekah jerked the snare from the ground and stuffed it into her dress pocket. Two more sat nearby, undisturbed. She snatched those free, too.

“Thank you, Father,” she prayed aloud, quickening her steps to a run. “Thank you!”

CHAPTER TEN

The house was dark when Rebekah sprinted into the familiar clearing. The moon was high and bright, giving plenty of light to find her way home. Cautious so as not to wake her sleeping family, Rebekah crept through the back door. The doorframe boasting all of the Stoll children’s measurements seemed to stare at her, an impassible obstacle to be defeated before she could make her final decision.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her covering, Rebekah marched to the marked wall. “I’m blessed to have been included in this family,” she told the wall. “And I’ll be thankful forever that I have been.”

Task completed, she crept up the stairs, taking care to step over the squeaky one that Samuel kept intending to fix. Instead of slipping into the safety of her hand-hewn quilts that were stacked neatly atop her bed, she slipped into her quilting room.

There lay her quilting bag, haphazard, where she’d left it after becoming irritated with her irregular stitching. Her quilt section lay across it, untouched, just beside her rocking chair. Rebekah strode across the room, her chin high, and flung back the curtains. The silvery moonbeams cascaded in, giving her ample light by which to quilt. “I will finish this project tonight, it has dragged on long enough,” she vowed.

Plopping into her rocking chair, handmade by her Pa, Rebekah plucked up the quilt piece with newfound fervor. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a square that had been a gift from Katie Knepp. “I must love Katie as I love myself, even if she is sweet on Joseph. All those feelings are gone; this Rebekah Stoll is here to stay.”

When the silvery moonlight gave way to the soft-hued rays of the sun, Rebekah was putting the finishing touches on her long-awaited quilt. She hadn’t slept, but she’d never felt more awake in all her 20 years.

Eyes wide, she rose from the rocker with the finished quilt displayed proudly before her at arm’s length. She nodded. Packing the few remaining squares neatly in her bag, she stowed it in her room before folding the quilt into a neat pile.