A moment later, Joseph caught up. It didn’t take long with his lengthy strides in comparison to her shorter, unfocused ones. “Your parents send a message. They asked me to tell you that when you’re ready to talk, they’ll be there.”
She turned her face up to him. “Thank you. I will, when I have the right words.”
He nodded. There was no evidence of any sort of smile on his handsome face. “They also said to tell you that they love you. And that the decision to go back and live English or stay here with us is yours and yours alone. They’ll respect it, either way.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Even if his hand had brushed hers, as it had last night, she wouldn’t have felt up to holding it anyway. She eased herself down on the bank and hugged her knees to her chest.
Before long, the honey-like scent of the tulip tree, the one he’d used to carve their fishing poles, filled the air.
That seems like a lifetime ago now.
A couple of birds chittered back and forth in perfect singsong time, but Rebekah didn’t try to pick out what kind they were. Her heart was simply too heavy.
“Rebekah, there is something—” Joseph fidgeted in his pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “We were about to speak of it last night when Peter came, but I really feel I need to say it now, if you’ll let me.”
She stared out over the glistening water. A fish jumped and sent a splashing ripple across the lake. “Okay, Joseph.”
None of the enthusiasm from the previous night could be found in her words.
His gaze burned on the exposed skin of her neck as he sat carefully beside her. Still, she didn’t meet his eyes. “I have feelings for you, Rebekah. You and only you.”
Rebekah’s heart thudded in her chest. She wanted to be excited to hear these words from the lips of the man who’d stolen her heart so long ago, but there was too much new information to process to even allow the moment to be enjoyable. Tears pricked her eyes as Joseph proceeded to unburden his heart of all the right words at the completely wrong time.
“The more I’ve prayed about them—and about you—the stronger these feelings have grown.” Still, his stare burned on her skin.
He is willing me to look up.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
“They’ve been building for years, Rebekah.” Slowly, he placed his hand on hers.
Please, don’t continue.
Rebekah kept her hand immovable beneath his. “Joseph—” She pressed her hand deeper into the soft dirt.
This particular spot would be perfect for worm hunting if we were here to fish.
Not one to be deterred, Joseph stroked her fingers with his. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Rebekah.”
His words echoed over the water and hung there between them in the still spring air.
A lone tear slid down her cheek. “Joseph, Samuel and Elnora have always told all us kids what love was. They said people make it more difficult but that a real, lasting love is really simple.” She pulled both her hands into her lap and left Joseph’s alone in the dirt. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tear before she finally turned to face him. “Love is understanding.”
Joseph bobbed his head. “My parents have said the same thing.”
Rebekah could see the uncertainty in his eyes and having to say words that would cause him pain burned at the raw ends of her already broken heart. “I can’t love you if I don’t love myself…not the kind of love you deserve.”
Rebekah stood and stepped toward the lake, unable to watch while she didn’t return his profession of the world’s most precious sentiment. “And I don’t understand anything right now, especially not myself.”
He was silent.
“I’m sorry, Joseph. I can’t love and understand you if I don’t love and understand myself.”
With a tear-streaked face, she finally turned away from the water. Joseph, though, was no longer there.
Rebekah sank to the ground and folded her arms across her knees. Broken sobs tore from her throat, resonating from the depths of her very soul. Her shoulders shook, and the tears were never ending.
I forced Joseph away, my oldest friend in the world. Now, I’m truly all alone.
The sun had already begun its daily rush toward the western horizon by the time Rebekah felt able to head back to the Stoll homestead. With steps as painfully slow as she could muster, Rebekah trudged across a field of wheat that bordered the English road that led to Montgomery. Never before had she ever dared walk this close to the road and never alone.
Before she got halfway across the waving wheat field, an English wagon came into view. The sounds of laughing children in the wagon bed tinkled through the air, much like the happy sound of water trickling in a creek.
Rebekah’s pulse thudded in her ears.
Should I run or should I hide here in the wheat?
Before she could decide, a movement from the opposite end of the road caught her eye. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was an Amish buggy.
She studied the buggy for a moment.
That’s Katie and Annie’s buggy. A wide grin parted her lips and for a moment, she thought about waving. The girls were nowhere in sight. Only their father sat in the driver’s box.
Mr. Knepp must be heading back to Gasthof Village from selling his hand-hewn chairs in Montgomery.
A thought burst into Rebekah’s mind so quickly, she sprinted forward a few steps.
Maybe he can give me a ride home.
Before she could wave or call out, the horse pulling the Knepp buggy stumbled and fell.
Adrenaline surged as a sickening knot formed in her throat, then sank to the pit of her stomach. The smile that had been on her lips melted into a frown.
Slowing politely, the English wagon crept past the Amish buggy.
Oh, not Mr. Knepp. God, why? Why would tragedy befall him, a man of the gentlest sort?
Heat burned in Rebekah’s cheeks and neck. “I cannot be one of them! They didn’t even stop to help.” Her angry rant through clenched teeth trailed off into the Indiana breeze as the English wagon ground to a halt in the road.
Curiosity cooled her burst of fear and Rebekah watched as the driver got down and trotted back to inspect Mr. Knepp’s horse.
“She’s lame,” the Englishman called out. His words were laced with a strange accent. The musical laughter of the English children ceased as the man’s wife climbed down and unhooked one of their horses from the wagon.
Rebekah’s jaw dropped as the Englishman, whistling a jolly tune that carried on the breeze, proceeded to help Mr. Knepp’s old mare up and tied her to the back of the Amish buggy before he hooked his own horse up carefully to the front.
