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.
When he’d finished, he stuck out his hand to Mr. Knepp. The pair nodded at each other before the Englishman rejoined his family in his wagon and continued on his way.
Or perhaps I could.
A lone tear trickled down her cheek.
She glanced at the horizon where the sun sank lower still.
Tonight, by moonlight, I will take the long way home.
***
An owl, no doubt hunting for a meal, hooted as she passed beneath a low-hanging branch. Rebekah clutched her cape tighter about her shoulders. Normally, such an unexpected sound under the cover of darkness would have frightened her, but not tonight. Tonight, she was on her own.
A skunk, mostly white and unlike those she’d seen, skittered along the bank of the stream. “Good evening, little skunk.”
She watched as the smallish creature ran, her coat gleaming in the moon’s rays. “You look so soft.”
The skunk paused to sniff at a clump of reeds.
“You’ve always known who you are, what you are, and where you come from.” She watched as the animal disappeared into the understory. “Not like me.”
A voice came to her, as soft and gentle as the night’s breeze. You love me and I love you. I will always be with you, and always love you, no matter what name you choose to go by.
Rebekah felt the words in her heart as much as she heard them in her mind.
A beaver eased into the water from his slide on the riverbank. A pair of night birds chittered overhead. There, amid some of God’s most innocent creatures, Rebekah began to pray aloud.
“Thank you, Father. I know you will always remain faithful, as will I. But what should I do? I am not who I thought I was. I chose not to live with the English on Rumspringa and yet I am English.”
You are Rebekah Stoll, loved by Elnora and Samuel. And Joseph.
“But Father, they lied—”
And Peter. You are loved by Peter, too.
Rebekah considered this and quickened her steps. “Is it all right to love Joseph back?”
Nothing has changed. You are still you, Joseph is still him. He gave his heart to you with my blessing and after much prayer.
