Peter stifled a laugh. “Well, mister, I’m certainly not dipping my head in that bucket there.” He shifted his eyes to Rebekah and squirmed on the cold stone floor. “Some here may be tempted to push me all the way in and roast me alive to be rid of me.”
Rebekah slipped her covering off and let it fall into the water. From the corner of her eye, she could see Joseph watching her but couldn’t judge his reaction. It was custom that an Amish woman not be seen by anyone other than her husband without her covering.
She took a stick and swirled it around in the warm water. “Here, we can use this.”
Careful not to make eye contact with either Peter or Joseph, she held out the dripping covering on the stick.
Her brother took one hand out of the water and accepted the stick. “Many thanks.” He studied it a moment. “What is this thing anyway?”
Gently, Joseph took the stick. “I’ll do it. Your hands need to be in the water.”
Peter placed his hands back in the water with only the slightest grimace.
“It’s my covering. I’ve worn one since I was a little girl. All Amish girls do.”
Peter rolled his eyes and looked at the piece of fabric Joseph held to his nose. “Why?”
“Tradition, I suppose. Everyone’s ma and grandma and sisters and daughters wear them.” She shifted on the ground. Having never explained anything of her lifestyle to the English, she chose her words carefully. “We always have and that is simply how it’s done.”
The man wrinkled his nose, signaling Joseph to remove the cloth. “Traditions stem from somewhere.”
Rebekah gazed thoughtfully at him. “The first book of Corinthians explains head coverings. Since women were created last, we cover our heads since we are closer to God.” A smile tipped her lips. “Do you understand?”
Peter pulled a hand out of the water and touched the tip of his nose. “I suppose so. Y’all ain’t the only one that does that, you know.”
Rebekah and Joseph exchanged a look over the crackling fire.
“Catholic folk do, but not all the time. Only in church or Mass.”
Joseph held his hands to the fire. “Do you follow that religion?”
“No. I almost did.”
Her curiosity piqued. “Almost?”
“Had me a Spanish fiancée and she was Catholic. I attended Mass with her before she left me.” Peter rubbed one hand over his five o’clock shadow before shifting his eyes up to meet hers.
Rebekah’s gaze danced to Joseph’s, whose eyes sparkled with the same brand of curiosity as hers. “Why did she leave you?”
“I wouldn’t become Catholic. Her family wanted me to, though she didn’t seem to care if I did or didn’t.”
Joseph interjected, “Why didn’t you convert?”
Peter ducked his head. “All those services were in Spanish or Latin or some dang language. I couldn’t understand what they was sayin’ one lick.”
A gentle laugh rippled through the motley trio. “I wouldn’t have converted either,” Rebekah said. “Part of knowing God is knowing his Word.”
Joseph nodded. “What did you do next, Peter?”
The Englishman’s blue eyes sparkled. “You sure you wanna hear all this?”
“Of course. You’re my brother.” Her lips tilted into an easy smile.
Joseph gestured to the outside. The wind still howled, and the snow had drifted against the mouth of the cave so much that only a miniscule swatch of sky remained visible. “I’ll have to clear that out in a while,” he said, “But aside from that chore, the three of us have a pretty long while to get to know each other.”
Chapter Twelve
They talked long into the night. So long, in fact, that Rebekah didn’t realize she’d nodded off until she awoke to find both men asleep, too. Joseph had cleared the mouth of the cave, but now, the coldness of the black night crept in. She shivered.
“Cold?”
Rebekah hugged herself and rocked back and forth. Her gaze flickered to her covering that lay beside the fire. Joseph picked it up.
“Here, I dried it for you.” He placed it over her hair, tucking in the blonde wisps that peeked out from under it. Tugging gently on the strings, he centered it. “Feel better?”
He didn’t drop his fingers from the strings.
“Much, thank you.” She met his eyes, which shone with an inner light. “I love my covering, and I love our way of life.”
“Peter seemed interested,” he said. “It’s a shame he’s led such a hard life.”
Rebekah’s heart grew heavy at the memory of Peter’s lament on his hard and lonely life. “It is a shame.”
“My prayers were answered when you said you’d stay with us in Gasthof.” With his eyes boring into hers, Joseph’s calloused thumb brushed her cheek and left a sizzling wake. “I love you, Rebekah.”
“Joseph, I—” She glanced at Peter, who was snoring softly. Her shyness forgotten, Rebekah raised a hand and rested it on Joseph’s. He accepted her fingers and squeezed them between his own. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you. Can you forgive me?”
His voice, soft as down and sweet as honey, came quietly. “I forgave you the moment you said it, and I knew it wasn’t true, anyhow.”
Joseph’s breath, warm on her lips, begged her to lean closer.
Rebekah’s hand tightened on his. “I need to tell you, Joseph, I have come to understand myself. I do love who I am—”
With her heart hammering in her chest, she inhaled deeply. Joseph’s scent flooded her senses and left her head swimming. “So I can tell you, with an open heart—”
Rebekah paused.
Once this was said, there would be no going back. Things could never be the same between them. The future was uncertain, but the truth cloaked her words and gave her assurance that things would work out for the best. God’s will would be done.
Gelassenheit.
“Yes?”
With a directness she’d never practiced before, Rebekah stared into his eyes. “I love you, Joseph Graber. And as you said, I have for as long as I can remember.”
The enormity of her words filled the expanse of the little cave. They sat together in the comfortable silence that followed, warmed by spoken truth and shared vows of love.
Can he hear my pounding heart? It sounds like it’s echoing to me.
