“No,” Joseph whispered. “Being here with you.”
She pressed closer to his side and reveled in his touch. “I have missed you so.”
“And I, you.” Joseph’s breath was warm on her ear. “Does that mean I get to come back to our room tonight?”
Rebekah turned and pressed her lips to his in answer.
Thank you, Gotte. For all your lessons. Especially the hard ones. For their rewards are so great.
REBEKAH’S RICHES
Chapter One
With her eyelids fluttering, Rebekah plucked a cloth out of the basket beside the bed and folded it into a triangle. She had not enjoyed a full night’s sleep since Dawson was born and these precious few moments, where her body cried for sleep, but she could only close her eyes for moments, were usually all she had to get her through the day. Thankfully, she did not need to think for many of her repetitive tasks, since the muscles in her hands seemed to know just what to do.
Dawson, three-months-old, squeaked from atop the quilt and kicked his plump little legs.
She smiled as a motherly warmth filled her chest. “You are ready to have your unmentionables changed, aren’t you sohn.”
From behind her, Joseph pushed open their bedroom window. “To let the stale air out and the fresh air in,” he joshed.
“Stale air that comes with changing a dirty bopplin?” Rebekah switched the diaper expertly. “Though I am not sure that stale describes what our sohn can do to air when he needs a change.”
A conclave of cardinals chirped from their nest in the tulip tree as Joseph stood, his back to her, and stared at the horizon. “Looks like a summer storm will soon pay us a visit.”
As if on some divine cue, a clap of thunder sounded in the distance. Joseph nodded as though he and the Almighty had some sort of unspoken understanding.
“Going to be a gully-washer, too, by the sound of it.”
Rebekah fixed the second diaper pin in place and plucked Dawson from the bed. “Do you want to put the dirty cloth in to soak, or do you want to hold your sohn?”
Joseph turned from the window and extended his arms toward her. “You are doing so well with the cloths; it seems a sin to tear you away from it now.”
Rebekah chuckled. She and Joseph had taken to parenting quite naturally, and their routine was not forced or one-sided. She already planned on taking the cloth, since he had done all the bathing and changing the day before, just like he would tomorrow. Still, she had to get her jokes in when she could.
“Well, if you say so,” Rebekah said. As she reached to place Dawson in his fater’s waiting arms, a streak of movement outside caught her eye. She froze.
“Joseph? Did you see that?”
He accepted the wiggling bopplin.
Rebekah leaned out the window. “Is that Thomas?”
Joseph pulled the baby close to his chest and turned on his heel. “That is Thomas all right.”
“Why is he waving his hat like that?” Rebekah sucked in a breath. “Joseph, something wrong.”
Before she could turn from the window and rush to meet her baby brother, another clap of thunder made her jump. The horizon had darkened considerably and a cold wind, prelude to the coming storm, rushed in through the open window. It carried Thomas’s words with it.
“Joseph! Sissy! Come quick, Pa is sick. Help!”
***
Breathless, Thomas dashed into Rebekah’s waiting arms. Fat raindrops dotted the powdery Indiana dirt around them, leaving big, dark splotches scattered out like coins on a tabletop. Another clap of thunder rolled across the prairie.
Rebekah pulled back from their embrace and clasped an exhausted Thomas’s sweaty face in her hands. “What is wrong, Thomas? What is wrong with Pa?”
The raindrops fell faster.
Thomas drew in a jagged breath and swiped the back of his hand across his nose. Rebekah knew he’d been crying, probably the whole way over.
“P…Pa,” Thomas stuttered. “His…his chest.”
“Take deep breaths, Thomas. Be calm.”
Thomas nodded. After a moment, his breath came easier. “His chest. It hurt all day yesterday. Kept him up half the night.” He drew the back of his hand across his eyes, instead of his nose. Both were watery. “This morning, he cannot get out of bed. He is sweaty and pale. And Sissy…” His little voice trailed off until the chilled wind swirled it away. “He did not even want his morning coffee. And you know Pa, he cannot…”
Rebekah nodded and finished her little brother’s thought. “...start his day without hot coffee and good company.” She tucked Thomas under her arm and began to guide him back toward the house. “I wonder how many times Pa has said that over the years? Fifty? A hundred?”
“Come on you two,” Joseph, all smiles as usual, called from their doorway. “Or you are both going to look like a couple of drowned rats!”
As if on some unspoken cue, another sharp clap of thunder sounded and made her jump.
“Sounds like it ripped the sky in two!” Thomas said.
“Hurry, Thomas!” Rebekah’s plea was cut short as the skies loosened their downpour. As they rushed toward the house, she couldn’t help but skip over the quickly forming puddles, just as she and Thomas used to when they were younger. She glanced over her shoulder as Thomas hopped along behind her. “Hey, I reckon you cannot jump that big puddle there without falling in!”
