Rebekah's Quilt (16 page)

“I should have grabbed a shawl,” Rebekah muttered. The wind, unseasonable for March, had grown colder in the few minutes she’d been inside. Something in the breeze smelled frosty, like the winds that blew around Christmastime.

Rebekah quickened her pace to the river. “I’ll make short work of this.” She eyed the blackening eastern horizon. Ominous clouds, puffy on the bottom and spiky on the top, hung overhead in a low and threatening manner. She shivered. “At least I have on long sleeves.”

It had grown so cold so quickly that bits of ice clung to the river bank before being washed downstream by the rushing current.
Ma was right about the weather taking a turn
, Rebekah thought, as she dumped the clothes in a heap on the bank.

Lye soap in one hand and her dirty dress in the other, she plunged both into the water. Pricks from the cold stabbed her hands as the current splashed farther up her arms than she’d intended. The lower half of her sleeves dripped with river water.

In hurried form, she scrubbed the dirt from her dress before giving it a quick rinse and wring. Satisfied, she laid it out on a flat rock. She ignored the bright red hue her hands and arms had taken and plucked up Abram’s dirty socks stuffing them beneath the water’s surface. Skimping on quality, Rebekah wrung them out and placed them on the rock, shivers wracking her frame.

“That’s going to have to be good enough for now,” she chattered. “I’m going back to the house.”

The sound of footsteps on river pebbles caught her attention over the whistling wind.

Joseph!

With the cold momentarily ignored, her lips pulled back in a genuine smile as she turned to embrace the man she loved.

She froze, mid-step, for the curve of the hat wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all.

“Hello, Rebekah.” If Peter was affected by the impending norther, his voice didn’t show it. “Have you had a chance to think about what I told you?”

Her smile softened into a different form as she stepped toward him. “How happy am I to learn that you are a relation.” She extended her arms and hugged him tight. “Thank you for enduring so much just to bring me the news.” She patted his back and started to release from their embrace.

Peter didn’t.

Rebekah squirmed in his grasp, her heart quickening to a gallop before he released her. She stepped back, her hands numb and the strings on her covering whipping her in the face. Peter’s mouth turned downward in a severe frown and dots of tears dripped down his face. He swiped at them with the backs of one hand. “Will you be returning with me to the east?” he called over the howling wind.

“I’m staying here.”

Peter cupped a hand around his ear and stepped nearer to her. “What?”

“I’m
staying here
!”

Peter’s frown drew back into a hard line. “Sister, you’ve been brainwashed by the plain folk. Once you get to Philadelphia, you’ll see how much better off you are. I’m the only family you got.” He stepped toward her. “As your older brother, it’s my duty to see to your well-being. Now, are you coming with me?”

Despite the wind, Rebekah heard every word plainly. She shook her head. “No Peter, I’m not.” A note of uncertainty gave her words a scared twang.

“You’ll thank me for this someday,” Peter retorted, pushing up his sleeves. “But if you won’t
come
with me, I’ll just have to
bring
you.” He took a step toward her.

Eyes wide, Rebekah glanced around for somewhere to hide. Or somewhere to run. “No Peter, it shouldn’t be like this.”

Fat snowflakes began to swirl around them, covering the ground in a white sheet in moments. “I believe she wants to be left alone. Sounds as though she made up her mind.” Joseph’s baritone voice drowned out the wind.

Peter whirled around; unaware he’d been snuck up on. “I’m taking her home!”

Stepping by him as easily as if he were stepping by the Yoder’s pup, Joseph extended his hand to Rebekah. She took it and melted into the warmth of his embrace. “She
is
home.”

Turning his back to Peter, Joseph spoke in Rebekah’s ear. “Storm’s getting worse. Let’s go.”

The wind wailed, lashing their faces with snowflakes and pieces of sleet. “Let me grab the laundry!” she shouted.

“I’ll get it for you,” Joseph called. He turned, and then turned back to Rebekah. “Where is it?”

Rebekah gestured to where she had been sitting only moments before. “It’s right –” Her shout was lost to the wind. The snow had begun to fall so quickly, that only the top of the washtub was visible, leaving the laundry completely blotted out by the mounds of snow.

“It’s coming fast!” Rebekah cried, as Joseph stepped to retrieve the tub.

“We won’t make it to the house,” Joseph called. “Come on, we have to find shelter!” He pushed the tin bucket into her hands. Filled with snow, it was even heavier than when it had been filled with laundry.

“Come on Peter, we’re finding shelter,” Rebekah called. Had Joseph not held her arm, she wouldn’t have been able to follow him. The conditions had gone from cold to freezing in a matter of minutes and the snow appeared as though it had no intention of letting up. She could barely make out Joseph’s silhouette mere inches in front of her. “Come on Peter!”

Joseph pulled her down near the ground. After receiving a shove from Joseph, she found herself in the confines of a rock cave. A haphazard mess of sticks were piled near the back and it was roomy enough to fit all three of them. Despite the sheltering walls, the air inside was bitter cold.

Rebekah shivered, her hands rattling against her laundry tub and the sleeves of her wet dress frozen. Not the slushy kind of frozen as her clothing sometimes got while playing outside in the powdery Indiana snow with her brothers, no. Frozen. Stiff. Solid. Into solid black slabs of ice

Her teeth chattered and her arms were heavy, like chunks of dead wood. Glancing down, the tips of her fingers were white, appearing as though they had been dipped in candle wax.

Joseph immediately began rubbing them.

“P-p-p-pete-t-t—” she stuttered. Her tongue felt frozen, as did her eyes and nose.

“He’s not here yet,” Joseph relayed, cupping his mouth around her hands and blowing. His warm breath on her fingers went unfelt. “Let’s get you warm and I’ll go out after him.” He didn’t seem to be suffering the effects of the cold nearly as much as her. Then again, he hadn’t been splashing in the river, either.

“G-g-go n-n-o-o-ow Jo-jo-jo –” Her stutter was worsening and the chill had wrapped itself around her bones.

“Ssh, don’t try and talk.” He bent her arms and tucked her fingers under her armpits. “Keep them here, alright?” Leaning, he grabbed a handful of sticks from the back of the little cave. Breaking them, he made a pile of dry wood in a moment. Reaching in one pocket, he produced a little instrument that Rebekah hadn’t seen since
rumspringa
. Had her mouth not been frozen into a stiff line, she would have smiled at the memory.

“Now, don’t tell anyone I have this,” he teased, holding the wire in one hand. With a quick succession of squeezes, the little rocks at the end of each piece of wire knocked together, producing a spark. Joseph held it down in the middle of the pile of kindling. A moment later, a humble flame appeared. “Now I guess I know why I saved that little flint,” Joseph cocked his mouth into a half-smile.

Rubbing his hands up and down Rebekah’s arms, he situated her closer to the fire. “If it gets low, can you feed it another stick?”

She nodded.

“Good girl. I’m going after your brother, I’ll be right back.” At the mouth of the little rock cave, he looked back.

I love you
, Rebekah thought. If only her mouth would form the words.

Joseph flashed her that dazzling dimpled smile, followed by a wink. Then, he was gone.

Struggling to stay awake, Rebekah focused on the little flame that had grown into a modest fire. Her eyelids would droop and she would focus on the fire.
It has to be going when the men get back, they’re probably going to be frozen solid.

Slowly, she removed one hand from under her arm. The feeling was coming back and her fingers hurt. Badly.

Ignoring the stabbing sensation, Rebekah tried to wrap her waxy fingers around another stick, but her fingers wouldn’t bend. Using her hand like a club, she whacked the wood off the stack. The pain that shot through her fingers and up her arm was reminiscent of the one winter she’d made the mistake of hopping out of bed barefoot on the cold floor. She’d thought the knifelike stabbing sensations that had shot up her legs then were bad. This was worse.

As the fire caught hold of the new wood, Rebekah held her hands out to soak up as much of the warmth as possible. She whimpered and moaned as the feeling came pulsing back into her fingers. Finally, she could bend them and form a coherent thought.

Please God, protect Joseph and Peter –
Rebekah’s prayer was cut short by Joseph falling back into the cave. His teeth gnashed together in loud chatters and his lips had taken on a tinge of blue.

“Oh Joseph, thank God. Come here.” She held out her arms to her frosty beau. “Did you find Peter?”

Before he could answer, Peter stumbled in. His hat was gone and his eyes were wide, showing more of the whites than the colored part. With blonde locks frozen in jumbled swirls, Peter’s exposed flesh was red and angry. His entire hands, and the tip of his nose, looked as though they had been dipped in wax, just as Rebekah’s fingertips had.

Curling her fingers around three more hunks of wood, Rebekah stoked the fire until it roared in the little rock cavern.

“Th-th-that w-was cl-cl-clos-close.” Joseph’s words were jagged.

Rebekah stripped off his stiff coat and tossed it beside the fire. “Here, let’s get you warm.”

Joseph patted her arm with awkward, frozen thumps. “M-melt the s-snow in the t-t-tub for P-P-Peter.”

Some of the snow in the tub had already melted, but not all of it. Rebekah slid it as close to the fire as she could without setting it directly in the flames.

Hands quaking, Joseph shoved over next to Peter. “H-hands in the t-tub.”

“No.” Even frozen near solid, it was obvious Peter wanted nothing to do with Joseph, and would certainly not accept help from him.

“Then sit by the f-f-fire, at l-least,” Joseph managed.

Pulling his frozen duster over his shoulder, Peter turned to face the mouth of the cave. Rebekah watched his back tremble and shake – he had to be frozen near solid. Alas, he refused to accept help.

“Joseph,” Rebekah whispered. “Come.”

Scooting back to her side, Joseph appeared to have quit shivering quite so much. “Are you alright? How did you find him? We are down to about half of our firewood…” She let her voice trail off as she realized Joseph wasn’t heeding any of her questions or concerns. Instead, he simply stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. The ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he rubbed his hands together near the warmth of the flames. Then again, perhaps it was her who was seeing him through new eyes.

The spark that passed between them, the freshly proven knowledge that one would always be there for the other, surged through her. In that instant, Rebekah envisioned herself flinging off her covering and running through the woods, the wind in her face and hair blowing free, with only Joseph’s hand to guide her. The vision faded to the pair of them kneeling together in their home on a sleepy summer morning, quietly speaking to the Lord together.

In an uncharacteristically bold act, Rebekah reached across the small expanse between then and rested her hand on his. Turning his over, Joseph linked his icy fingers through her warm ones, palm to palm.

“Can’t feel my hands or feet,” Peter announced, mostly to himself.

On instant alert, Rebekah released Joseph’s hand and crawled to Peter’s side. “Come, let us help you.”

Peter shot her a haughty glare. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Because you’re my brother.” Rebekah tugged on his duster sleeve. “Now please, come.”

Grudgingly, Peter allowed Rebekah to pull him to the washtub. “I’m not sticking my hands in there.”

She glanced to Joseph, who nodded. “You will if you want to keep your fingers and hands,” she said. Reaching over, Joseph helped Rebekah push up the stiff duster sleeves. “Rebekah’s right, here.” Ever slow, they pressed Peter’s hands into the water.

“No!” His face contorted in planes that Rebekah had never seen on a man’s face before. His eyebrows furrowed so closely together, she feared he may rightly explode. With his mouth twisted into a grotesque shape, she could see his teeth fairly well.

“You have the same tooth as I do,” she observed absently. Joseph leaned to look.

“She’s right!” Sure enough both Peter and Rebekah’s right front tooth overlapped the left just a bit.

Peter’s face softened a scotch. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he managed when he finally maneuvered his mouth back to its regular shape.

Joseph nodded. “We need to warm up your nose, too.”

Peter stifled a laugh. “Well Mister, I’m certainly not dipping my head in that bucket there.” He shifted his eyes to Rebekah and squirmed on the cold stone floor. “Some here may be tempted to push me all the way in and roast me alive just to be rid of me.”