She nodded. “I am so grateful that you are my mamm.” She reached across the table and patted her hand. She hoped that it gave her mother the same feeling that her touch gave her. Of hope and strength and comfort.
“So am I.” Elnora smiled. “So, what else is bothering you?”
As much as it hurt to think, and hurt to say, she took a deep breath. “I fear I have driven Joseph away for gute, Mater.”
Elnora sat, looking thoughtful for quite some time before she spoke. “I am a bit older than you,” her mamm said, “and I have seen a thing or two in this world. And one thing that has fascinated me most is birds.”
Rebekah’s eyes widened. Of all the words her mother could have said at that moment, birds was not one of them. “Birds?”
“Particularly mourning doves. I know you have heard them, with their long lonesome call. But have you ever sat and watched them?”
“I cannot say that I have.” Rebekah shook her head. “I suppose I know more about bears lately than about birds.”
“So, I have heard.” Elnora chuckled. “Anyway, no matter how much a pair of mourning doves peck at each other, and they do peck at each other quite often, they still love each other a great deal.”
“I did not know that.”
“They mate for life, you know.”
Elnora looked squarely at Rebekah and did not speak until her dochder met her gaze. “And most importantly,” Elnora said, “the fater bird never flies too far from the nest.”
Rebekah nodded.
“Finish your toast, Rebekah,” Elnora said, “and I will draw us some buttermilk. Then you can fly the coop.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” – Matthew 18:21-22
Rebekah picked her way along the trail by moonlight. Butterflies the size of bats whirred about in her stomach and a pack of coyotes howled in the distance. Thoughts flew this way and that, in one ear and out the other, and everywhere in between them the closer she got to home.
Will Joseph be somewhere around our home?
Will Samuel come out of his current illness, stronger and healthier than before?
Do fater birds really stay near the nest, no matter what?
How long will it be before we can go visit Katie and Peter in Texas?
Will I be going alone?
Have I been unforgivable in my actions?
Is Joseph even still mine?
What is this strange feeling of excitement about the impending trip to Texas to see Katie and my brother?
Is the mater black bear nearby?
Rebekah stopped in her tracks. “The mater bear. That’s it!” She snapped her fingers and spoke out loud. “Help came from the most unusual place for her and her bopplin cub, from someone who might even be considered an enemy under any other circumstance. Katie was my mater black bear!”
Rebekah quickened her steps towards home. As she rounded the corner that led to hers and Joseph’s home, her heart sank. The whole of the house was unlit.
She slowed to a slow walk. I suppose Joseph really has left me.
Slowly, she trudged up the front porch steps and stopped at the door. A fleeting memory of walking beside Joseph, into their house for the first time as Mrs. Graber after they were married, burst into her mind. That sweet day, so full of love, trust, hope, and…
Rebekah tried to place what was missing.
Faith. That is it.
She began to pray, something that she had not done nearly enough of lately, perhaps when she needed it the most.
Gotte, I am so sorry for my actions. Even if Joseph has left me because of my selfishness, I beg you to ease his heart tonight, and every night, so that he doesn’t feel any more hurt. Thank you, Gotte, for blessing me with the gift of forgiveness. Please, take care of Joseph tonight.
Rebekah felt the cold tears in her eyelashes as she opened the front door. From the corner of her eye, something caught her attention. A faint light, yellow and pale, from beneath the barn door.
That was not there before when Thomas and I were leaving. That means…
Joseph! He is here!
Rebekah spun on her heel and dashed down the steps and did not stop until she reached the barn door. She waited only a moment to open it, to hopefully discover the man she loved waiting inside.
There, in the middle of the barn that still smelled faintly of burnt ash when the wind blew just right, stood Joseph. His back was to her, and a sole lantern sat at his feet.
She pushed open the door, which was a silent affair until it told of her presence with a tell-tale creak. He looked over his shoulder, then back at whatever it was that occupied his attention. He didn’t speak or even acknowledge that he had seen her.
“Hallo, Joseph,” Rebekah whispered. “May I come in?”
“Of course. It is your barn as much as mine.”
Rebekah stepped gingerly inside. “I thought you were leaving for the night.”
“I did. Then I came back.” His voice was flat and devoid of emotion.
“May I ask where you went?” Rebekah studied her trembling hands. “Though you do not have to tell me anything. I forfeited the right to know when I treated you so horribly.”
“You always have a right to know.” Still, he hadn’t turned around. “You are my fraa.”
Rebekah’s stomach turned over and her heart twisted within her chest. “Joseph, I am here to apologize. To you. And to beg your forgiveness for my unforgivable actions.”
“My fraa never has to beg. Not to me nor to anyone else. For anything.” Finally, he turned around. “As far as forgiveness…” He stepped to the side.
Rebekah gasped.
“…there is nothing to forgive.”
Her hands went slowly to her mouth when she saw what Joseph had done. “You fixed it. The cradle that I so selfishly smashed.”
