Rebekah's Quilt (6 page)

Elnora’s closed her eyes. “I know you will, Rebekah. Thank you.” Her words trailed off in a yawn.

“Rebekah!” a shrill voice shrieked from downstairs. “Help!”

Hurrying from her mother’s bedside, she rushed downstairs. The voice shrilled through the house again. “Rebek-ahhhhhhhh!”

“Oh my,” she gasped at the sight laid out before her. Her barefoot, school-aged brothers stood huddled in the corner of the common room at the mercy of Tom the Rooster.

“How did he get in here?” Rebekah asked, eyeing the notorious rooster as she edged along the far wall. “Where’s Jeremiah?”

“We dunno!”

The mass of smallish hats and suspenders appeared to quake as Tom began his roosterly swagger in their direction. “Rebekah!”

She slipped off her apron. “Hush now.” She slid along the wall like a snake through the grass. “Boys, now when I say
go
, I want you all to holler out as loud as you can. Understand?”

Some nodded. Others had their eyes squenched shut.

Slowly, Rebekah advanced on the white and silver rooster who, until that moment, had paid her no mind. Then with a threatening squawk, Tom charged her.

“Now boys! I mean
go
!”

All six of her little brothers let out such a cacophonous roar that Tom stopped short and turned to face the din, his silly head cocked to one side.

“A-ha!” Rebekah flung the apron over his scarlet-combed head. Falling to her knees, she scooped the whole feathery conglomeration into her arms.

“I’ll hold him boys, you run along to school! Hurry!”

The six youngest Stoll’s scrambled over one another, each trying to be the first out the door and far from the cranky rooster’s territory.

“Thanks Sissy!” Thomas, the youngest, called as the lot of them dashed down the road.

“You’re welcome!” Rebekah yelled, holding tight to the hooded fowl. “Now, to turn you out by the barn.”

Hurrying to the dirt patch outside, Rebekah gave the rooster/apron package a fling before skipping backward, safely out of the range of angry rooster claws. Stopping short, she watched as Tom clucked, stamping angrily about. His beady eyes glistened as though he figured someone had just bested him. Then, the old rooster pointed his beak skyward and let out a disgruntled
cock-a-doodle-doooooooo
!

Covering her mouth, Rebekah laughed so forcefully that tears streamed down her face and her sides ached. Doubling over, she gasped in a failed attempt to catch her breath. After a moment, Rebekah regained her composure. “Thank goodness nobody was here to see that,” she whispered, images of Joseph flashing through her mind. Then, Tom strutted into her vision and her giggles were lose again. Rebekah squatted, dropping her head in hands, and welcomed the hilarity that overtook her.

“He’s a queer animal, but he doesn’t seem to enjoy your amusement at his situation.”

Rebekah turned her soggy face upward.

Joseph’s silhouette was illuminated by the mid-morning sun. His face wore a dimpled grin as he extended a hand to her.

She accepted it and stood up. “At his situation?”

Joseph arched his black eyebrows and nodded toward the cocky rooster. He stalked around, the apron strings caught between his claws, trailing the white fabric behind him. When she looked at him, he did a little jump and faced the fabric, calling out an irritated
bock-ca
!

The sight was too much. With her hands on her knees, Rebekah gave over to another laughing jag. After a moment, Joseph joined in.

When the mood passed and the ache in her sides had gone, Rebekah wiped the sweat and tears from her face with the burgundy sleeve of her dusty dress.

“Here, you have a smear,” Joseph whispered, wiping his thumb across her cheek, leaving a sizzle in its wake.

Rebekah stood, frozen.
I could live off of this moment forever.

Joseph smiled a half-smile and bent to pick a blade of grass.

“Now to get busy,” she muttered.

“What do we do first?” A freshly-plucked sprig jutted out of his mouth as he waited, obviously gauging her reaction.

“We?” Rebekah asked. “I don’t know about we, but I have to clean a rooster mess out of the sitting room before starting on lunch and dinner. Then there’s laundry, and tending the calf, and –”

Joseph held up his hands in defeat.

She gave him a smug glance and whirled to enter the house.
I hope he follows me.

“I’ll get your apron from Tom.”

Rebekah stood on the steps, leaning against the banister. “This I must see.”

Mirroring her smug glance, Joseph turned and started toward the feisty rooster. Tom stood still, clucking softly. Gently, Joseph picked him up and disentangled his feet from the strings.

Rebekah’s mouth hung freely open.

Joseph strode toward her, apron extended. “Catchin’ flies?”

She accepted it, mouth still agape.

“How did you --” she began. “No, why didn’t that old rooster ”

“Want to catch a rooster, think like a rooster,” Joseph said. He tucked his thumbs under his arms and flapped his makeshift wings. “
Bock-ca!”

Masking a smile, Rebekah shook her head. “Oh, before I forget, when you go home would you mind asking your ma to stop by when she can. Seems Ma’s labor is trying to start.”

“When I go home? Who said I was leaving?”

Joseph’s stark words gave her pause. She stared into his eyes, which were the same hue today as the early spring sky, not sure if he was joking.

The same gentle smoldering was there in her chest, along with the familiar tingling deep in her stomach.

“Now that the mess is cleaned up, how about some lunch?”

Rebekah nodded, brushing her hands on her dress. Okay, what would you like for me to make us?”

Joseph followed her into the kitchen. He reached up to the bent nail and plucked a fresh apron free. After donning it expertly, he held out his arms for her approval. “How does it look?” he asked, face sincere.

Close your mouth Rebekah, before you really do catch a fly.

“Um, yes. You, um, well Joseph, you look … handsome.”

Handsome in an apron? Rebekah, sheesh!

Joseph retrieved a skillet from under the dry sink. “Well, I meant, do I look ready to make lunch. But handsome works, too.”

“You’re really making lunch. Here? In my house?”

“Yes I am. Now go check on your ma.” Having delivered that order, he turned his attention from her to the woodstove.

Rebekah crept up the stairs, quiet in case Elnora was sleeping. As she eased open the door, she saw the tray of untouched breakfast sitting on the bedside table. Tiptoeing across the floor, Rebekah peered at her mother, who was in fact fast asleep. Her breathing was strong and regular, calming Rebekah’s sudden surge of anxiety. “You rest Ma,” she whispered.

Tray in hand, Rebekah returned to the kitchen. As she entered, Joseph was busy kneading ferociously in her wooden bread bowl.

“Can I help?” she asked, sliding the tray onto the tabletop.

He turned to face her. “No, think I’ve got it.”

Rebekah opened her mouth to speak, but squeaked instead. Joseph’s face was smudged and smeared with a mixture flour and lard. Water filled her eyes as the feeling of hilarity from the rooster incident returned. With a snort, Rebekah was in the throes of a laughing jag again.

Touching his face, Joseph only took a moment to realize what was funny. With a slow grin, he advanced toward Rebekah.

“Oh no you don’t, Joseph Graber!” She threatened through the cascade of tears. Her back to the wall and the exit blocked by a chair, Rebekah was at his mercy.

“Miss Stoll, you need a smidge here,” he said, tweaking the end of her nose with one buttery finger. “And a touch there.” He dabbed her chin with his other hand, leaving a print of flour.

Rebekah flung her arms wildly, the absurdity of the moment making it even more enjoyable. Joseph’s deep, throaty laughs harmonized with hers as the pair failed to make a delicious lunch.

After a moment, the laughter fizzled away leaving a comfortable silence in its stead.

Gazing at each other’s doughy faces, Joseph suddenly stiffened. “My cinnamon rolls!”      Rebekah watched as he pulled the delectable pastries from the oven. How good they would taste after dinner! But then again, anything cinnamon tasted good just about any time.

“Joseph Graber, you are a cook? After all these years I should have known that by now.” Dabbing at her face with a hanky, she feigned annoyance. “What
am
I going to do with you?”

Joseph slid the hanky from her hand and took a step closer. Reaching up, he removed the blotch of flour just below her right eye. He kept dabbing long after the flour was gone. “What are you going to do with me?” he echoed.

That vulnerable feeling was back, heavy and hard, in the pit of her stomach. Rebekah gulped. It sounded awfully loud in the sudden quiet.

“You can say you’ll attend the Spring Festival this weekend.”

Phew
. “Of course we’re coming, Joseph,” Rebekah began, the words tumbling forth much too quickly. “Our families always”

“Sshh.”

Rebekah shut her mouth and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Say you’ll attend the Spring Festival,” he repeated, “With me as your escort.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The thunder was so loud when it ripped with a booming crack outside her window that Rebekah jumped, landing in a heap on the floor. Her waist-length blonde mane twisted in her fall and clung to her face like Peter’s bandana had clung to his neck.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Rebekah’s sleepy eyes flew open wide to view the world with adrenaline-charged vision.

“Help!”

The flashes of lightening were so bright that Rebekah was forced to cover her eyes with her arms. Even then, she could feel the brief heat from the striking bolts on her skin.

“Somebody, please!”

The rain hammered violently on her windows, demanding to be let in or else.

“Somebody, help!” a voice echoed between the squalling sheets of rain.

Rebekah stopped fighting with her hair and sat still as a windmill on a breezeless day.

“Pa?” she yelled. “Pa!” Dashing to the window, she stubbed her baby toe on her unadorned dresser. The splintering pain was pushed aside when the sight unfolding outside met her eyes.

There stood Samuel, pumping water into a bucket so hard Rebekah feared he would break his arms. Then turning, he flung the half-full bucket at the giant yellow flames that roared skyward from their barn.

“Buttermilk!” The word ripped from her throat with such unanticipated force that her voice went sandpapery.

Her injured foot a distant memory, Rebekah shot past her parent’s bedroom where all the little boys were cuddled in bed with Elnora.

“Jeremiah! The barn’s on fire!” she yelled to nowhere, taking the stairs two and three at a time.

Her brother’s footsteps fell in behind her. “Let’s go!”

The pair hit the door at the same time, flinging it wide open. It cracked against the strain of its hinges. Not bothering to turn around and close it, they raced for the barn. Rebekah hadn’t grabbed a covering and her wet hair streamed out behind her like yellow ribbons from a maypole. It slapped her in the face when the wind whipped from a different direction.

Grinding to a halt at the water pump, Rebekah grabbed Jeremiah by his shoulders.

“You help Pa! I’m going in for the animals!”

Jeremiah ferociously began pumping for Samuel who, before that moment hadn’t even noticed that his two eldest children had joined him.

“
Blitzschlag
!” Samuel yelled in German. “Lightning struck the barn!”

The inside of their cozy barn was ablaze. Piles of the sweet-smelling hay, where Rebekah had hidden from her brothers on lazy fall afternoons, were engulfed by the roaring, ravenous flames. The yoke her father had hewn by hand as a boy was charred, hanging on a blackened beam. A rafter collapsed, shocking her back to her senses.