Rebekah’s muscles relaxed and ached in unison as she stretched her arms and legs.
“You had a nightmare. I thought it best to wake you.” Joseph’s smiling voice was an audible beacon from the hellish dream that had almost been her reality.
Someone had moved a chair into her room for him, because the only piece of furniture she possessed that was all her own, besides her bed, was her dresser. Her plain, perfect little dresser.
Rebekah rubbed her gritty eyes. Everything was fuzzy around the edges when she opened them, which gave her entire room a dreamlike appearance. Then, Joseph came into focus. With one long leg propped up on the other, he would have looked as though he was simply enjoying a rest on the porch had it not been for the dark shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes and deep creases in his brow. She drank the sight of him in.
This is the stuff dreams are made of.
“What happened? All I remember is…” Her crackly words trailed off as she tried to disentangle truth from fiction. “All I remember is…mud.”
Joseph laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. His lips spread into a tilted grin. “There was lots of mud there at the end. It seems you got lost in your own barn. Luckily, you were squalling so loud I was able to find you and pull you out.”
“Pull me out?”
Elnora waddled in with a tray. “Ah, look who is awake.” Her words were breathy, and her hands shook. “Joseph kicked down part of the barn wall to get to you.”
Rebekah’s brows knitted together above her eyes as she looked at her mother. She rubbed them again.
Joseph smile melted from his face as he rose and took the tray from Elnora’s trembling hands. “Here, I’ll take care of that, Mrs. Stoll.”
“Thank you, Joseph.” She steadied herself against the wall. “I think that did me in. I’ll be lying down if anyone needs me.” Elnora closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.
Joseph deposited Rebekah’s tray in her lap. The pair shared a look before he turned back to Elnora. “Can I help you, Mrs. Stoll?”
Beads of sweat stood out against her pasty skin.
What’s wrong with Mother?
“Yes, Joseph, you may. Again, thank you.” Elnora extended her arm and allowed Joseph to lead her from the room.
I’m so glad Joseph is here. Rebekah licked her lips as her thought was cut short by the scent of cornbread. The smell was powerful enough to bring a growl to her stomach. She tore into her food like a starved dog.
I didn’t realize I was so hungry.
The honey cornbread was sweeter than it had ever tasted before and the black coffee, which someone had thoughtfully cooled, swished down her raw throat with blissful ease. Before she started on the thick slice of ham, Joseph returned.
“This pregnancy is draining your Ma. Thank God she’s at the end of it.”
Rebekah nodded, her mouth too full to speak.
“Do you need anything else?”
She swallowed, a task which had proven better in theory than in action. The chunk of meat almost didn’t go down. “Ow!”
Joseph shook his head. “That’ll go away in a day or two. Your throat’s a little swollen from all the smoke you breathed in.”
Rebekah let her eyes fall to her quilt as her hand stroked the odd blue square in the middle absently. She had been about to ask how he knew all this, but before she could, the memories returned in a rush.
She and Joseph had returned earlier than expected from Rumspringa. Before they had the chance to exit the wagon belonging to the English family who’d given them a ride home, both could smell the stench of death that permeated the usually serene Indiana night. The fear in Joseph’s eyes was like nothing she’d seen before—or since.
“My family’s place.” Joseph repeated the words helplessly as they trotted together through the night, which was made darker still by the smoke-thickened air. As they stepped onto the Graber place, a small forest of blackened sticks, still glowing orange at the ends, stood where the barn had once been. Odd black shapes lay smoldering and unmoving.
Samuel’s solemn voice came from somewhere behind them. “Joseph, your family is fine. Everyone is alive.”
“Pa? Where’s my pa?”
Samuel’s strong hands came down, one on each of their shoulders. “Lucas collapsed in the barn. Your ma is tending to him now.”
In a flash, Joseph had disappeared into the night.
Samuel’s arm tightened around his daughter’s shoulders. “Welcome home, Rebekah. Not a fine reception, is it?”
“Oh, Pa.” She squeezed his middle. “Are the Grabers really all right?”
Samuel held her close and made no move to release his bear hug. “They’ll be fine. We will get started on another barn in the morning. I also plan to give him Bacon, our new heifer.”
Rebekah bit her lip. “Did they lose a cow to the fire?”
“Ja. They lost them all.”
Tears pricked Rebekah’s eyes. “Oh, Pa. If only we’d come back a little sooner—”
Samuel cut her off and guided them back toward their buggy. “Gelassenheit, daughter. We must trust the Lord’s reasoning and His perfect timing.”
Rebekah shook her head and cleared the sad, smoky memories from her tired mind. “Would you mind bringing me my quilting bag?” Her voice was a whisper. “It’s in the next room.”
With a curt nod, Joseph stepped out of the room only to reappear a moment later with her quilting bag in hand.
She let the corners of her mouth flicker upward. “I suppose I should practice my stitching if I have to lie here.”
He plopped the bag at the foot of her bed and helped himself to a pinch of ham. “I still can’t believe you ran into a burning barn after a calf.”
“You would have done the same thing.” Ever unable to take a compliment, she bit her tongue the moment she said it.
“You’re right. I would have, had I been around.” Eyeing her, Joseph continued. “Rebekah don’t bite your tongue. You can speak your mind around me. I ain’t made of glass.”
He grinned that dazzling grin again, the one that seemed to light up wherever he happened to be. “It’s just me, your old friend Joseph.” He screwed his face up and stuck out his tongue.
With a giggle, she brought her hand up as a shield against his silly antics and her fingers brushed against a lock of her hair. She froze.
Rebekah’s smile faded slowly. “Oh.” She fingered the fried ends of her once long, thick mane. The more she felt, the worse off her hair seemed to have fared in the fire. “Oh, Joseph, it must be hideous.” A wave of embarrassment threatened to drown her.
He shook his head.
“What you did took courage.” He spoke those simple words easily. “You saved a life by almost giving yours. Anyway”—he plucked up her white covering from where it had fallen on the floor—“nobody will know about your hair except you, me, and your folks.”
“Courage,” she whispered to herself, trying out the word.
