“He fell asleep while I was making a snack.”
“Danke, Fater.” She prayed a prayer of gratefulness for her father in her heart as she slid the other clothespins into place. “Is Fogarty minding him?”
“No, he had to go. Other patients, or other haircuts. I could not figure out which.” Samuel smiled. “I figured out what Dawson was fussing about earlier, though.”
“Oh? What was it?”
“He made me promise not to tell. He said he would show his mater when he wakes up.”
Rebekah giggled. “I am sure he did.”
Samuel’s face shone as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and lit his face with a bright glow. A chilled breeze swirled around them, bringing with it the fresh smell of a nearby tulip tree. “God’s blessings, Dochder,” Samuel whispered. “Look for them each and every day.”
Rebekah picked up the empty basket and walked over to her father. “Thank you for coming to keep me company. Would you like to go inside and have a bite to eat?”
Samuel let her help him to his feet. Rebekah remembered him as a larger-than-life man, so handsome and strong and always laughing and happy when she was a little girl. Still the same man, he had seemed so much feebler since his possible heart seizure. Today was no exception, but the look of peace and gratefulness on his weathered face brushed away her temporary worries.
“The Lord impoverishes, and He enriches. He humbles, and He lifts up,” Samuel said.
I know exactly what that means now.
“1st Samuel chapter 2, verse 7.” Rebekah let her father escort her into the house. “The book of the Bible that you were named for.”
***
Inside, the kitchen smelled delicious. “Fater, you outdid yourself! It smells…” Rebekah searched her vocabulary. “Mouth-watering.”
Samuel took his seat. “Sourdough biscuits with sliced radishes, bacon, and, of course, cinnamon cake.”
This was Samuel’s go-to meal when she was a girl. It was rare that he was the chef of the kitchen, but when Elnora was down with a new baby or off helping bring another baby into the village, the task was left to him, and he never disappointed. Sometimes, he would even cut the biscuits in half, carve them into little hearts, and smother them in butter, which made it her favorite meal of all time.
“Coffee or tea, Fater?”
Samuel thought for a moment. “Coffee is for mornings. How about tea?”
Rebekah set the kettle on the wood-burning oven as her father served their food. “You mentioned having a good visit with Fogarty. Would you like to talk about it?”
“He is a good person, Englischer or not.” Samuel served Rebekah’s place first, then his own. “Did you know that he has lived all over this country? Said that as a boy he has run barefoot through cottonfields and jungles alike. He has seen the rain—” Samuel stopped short. “We should probably set a plate aside for Thomas since he spends all night up with his pack of bopplins.”
Rebekah already had the plate in hand.
“Wonderful idea, Fater.” She held the plate as Samuel scooped some of the delicious food onto it. “Fogarty sounds like a wonderful man. And a good friend to you, too.” She sat down. “It must be nice to exchange stories.”
She sat down and her father blessed the meal at once. “God, thank you for this day. Each sunrise, each cup of coffee, each moment is a gift. Danke for blessing us with this time together. Amen.”
Amen.
Samuel picked up where he left off. “He especially loved the stories of you as a baby, since he is a fater.”
“You told him stories about me?” Rebekah was truly shocked. “Like what?”
Samuel’s eyes gleamed. “Like how you came to be my dochder. How terrible circumstances sometimes lead to the greatest blessings.”
Rebekah sat in stunned silence.
“It was truly terrible what happened to your family on The Pike so many years ago, but God saw fit to put us not far behind. Then, in His infinite wisdom, he made you my dochder.” He waited a moment. “Your mater was worried that we would never have bopplins as we had been married several years and had yet to be blessed with a family. Then, there you were. Our only dochder. Then came—”
“All the sohns,” Rebekah joshed.
“See what a blessing you are?” Samuel paused long enough to take a bite. Once he swallowed it down, he continued. “Dochder, may I ask you something?”
Rebekah took a small bite and washed it down with a sip of tea. “Jah.”
“I know it is only natural to wonder about and miss the Englischer parents you never knew, especially since Peter showed up and told you of your lineage…” Samuel thought for a moment before continuing. “But, have your mater and I, well, have we given you a life where you feel complete? And nothing is amiss?”
She glanced across at the old man on the other side of the table. The only father who woke her in the middle of the night to witness the miracle of the birth of her calf-turned-milk cow, Buttermilk. The only father who carved a cradle for her as she was expecting her first bopplin and did not blame her or chastise her when she smashed it during a jealous fit of rage. The father who gave his all to save her from a lightning strike barn fire. The father who had literally gotten up off his death bed to come help her when she needed help the most. The father who had been there for her since day one, in so many unnamable ways.
Rebekah smiled at the only father she’d ever known. “You and mater have been more than enough, many times over. I am grateful that they brought me into this world, that they brought me onto The Pike, and I am sad that they met the end that they did. However, like you said, sometimes the greatest blessings come from the greatest tragedies. My becoming your dochder is not a tragedy. It is a blessing.”
“Danke, dochder.” Samuel picked up his cup of tea and swirled it around. “You are indeed the blessing.” His look grew mischievous. “Would you like to hear another story about bopplin, Rebekah?”
“Jah!”
“I came in from making a delivery during the summer when you were tiny. So small, about the same age as your bopplin. I was hot, sweaty, and hungry and when I came in the door, Elnora, pregnant with Jeremiah, was bouncing you on her hip. You were giving your mater fits.” He chuckled at the memory. “I had never seen her look as spent as she did that day.”
“I never knew I was a mischief maker,” Rebekah said as she finished her radish and bacon biscuit.
“‘I am so glad you are home,’ your mater said, ‘you take her, nothing I am doing seems to soothe her, and I must get to the outhouse!’”
I know that feeling.
Samuel continued. “So, she sat you down in the living room and hurried out the back door. You stopped your fussing and watched her as she dashed away, then you turned back to look at me. Before I could get over to you to scoop you up—”
As if on cue, Dawson’s screech interrupted his grossdaddi’s reminiscent story.
“I will fetch him,” Samuel said.
Rebekah sat at the table and waited. What a gift today is, to receive from my fater the stories of my youth that I have never heard before. The thought was so loud in her mind, she almost spoke it.
Samuel returned holding a squirming bopplin. He bent at the waist and plopped Dawson onto the floor.
Dawson responded with a yell.
Rebekah’s eyes widened. “Fater, I can take him.” She stood to go to her bopplin.
Samuel held up a finger. “Hold on, let your bopplin show you what he can do.”
Dawson studied first Samuel, then Rebekah, through his wide, blue eyes. Then, he began to rock back and forth, back and forth, until he situated himself on his hands and knees. He squealed again, to the tune of Rebekah’s laughter. “Fater! What did you teach him?”
