Rebekah’s jaw went slack as she watched her.
Is her neck flushed? Oh my, Katie is blushing!
An invisible weight lifted as Rebekah slipped her cloak about her shoulders and stepped out to join Joseph on the porch.
“I’m glad you came out.” He stepped toward her. “It’s still below freezing out here, so this won’t take long.” His lips quivered, and his hands were deep in his pockets.
Rebekah danced from foot to foot. Indeed, it was frosty out. She cupped her hands and blew on her already-throbbing fingers. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s more than all right, Rebekah.” Drawing ever nearer, he took one hand from his pocket. Letting it brush the side of her face, he remained silent while the little puffs from their breath in the frozen air mingled between them.
Icy fingers grasped her stomach and sent a rush of nervous butterflies fluttering through her body. “Katie stopped me on the way out—”
Joseph laid a finger lightly on her lips. “I don’t want to talk about Katie. I want to talk about you. And us.”
With her knees threatening to give way, Rebekah dropped her voice to a whisper. “I don’t really want to talk about Katie either, even if she may be my sister-in-law someday.”
His eyes glimmered as he stared into hers. “Maybe she’ll be mine, too.”
Rebekah paused as the weight of his words met her heart. “Yours…too?”
“There was one thing we didn’t talk about after the festival the other day.” Sinking down until he was balanced before her on one knee, Joseph drew the other hand out of his pocket. “My one regret from Rumspringa.”
“What regret?”
“For not doing this.” On the end of Joseph’s finger glittered a thin band of gold. “It was my grandma’s. She left it to me in hopes I would give it to my future wife. May I see your hand?”
Rebekah lowered her hand into his.
Dreaming. I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.
“Rebekah Elnora Stoll,” he began as he slipped the delicate ring on the appropriate finger. “Will you join with me in creating a future?”
“Oh, Joseph.” Her words came out in a squeak. She sank to her knees and grasped both of his hands in hers. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you!”
Slipping one hand behind her neck, Joseph pulled her close. His lips brushed hers as he spoke. “I love you, Rebekah, now and forever.”
She closed her eyes. “I love you, Joseph. You and no other. Forever.”
His cold fingertips on her neck sent shivers down her spine as their lips met, sealing the promise of their eternal love and devotion as the snowflakes began to fall again.
Joseph rose and helped Rebekah to her feet. Already, fresh snow swirled around them. He extended his hand. “Ready to go tell the families?”
She took his hand and twined her fingers through his. “Ready.”
Joseph placed his hand on the doorknob and turned his face toward her. “Well, Miss Stoll, are you ready to start the next part of our lives together?”
He winked, and her stomach twisted in knots.
“I’m ready, Mr. Graber. Let’s do it.” She exhaled the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. “Together.”
REBEKAH’S DRESS
Chapter One
November 1889, Gasthof Village, Indiana Territory
Little Thomas Stoll, Rebekah’s six-year-old brother, rose out of the puddle, his white skivvies having seen their last day of impeccable cleanliness. Rebekah had been looking everywhere for him when she remembered catching sight of the mud puddle behind the barn earlier. Usually, where there was dirtiness and grittiness, that’s where Thomas could be found. Today was no exception.
His white straw hat hung precariously on the leafless branches of a low shrub. A nearby bush held his suspenders—or braces as their father, Samuel, called them—and they dangled alongside a pair of tiny black britches. Carefully laid out above the rest of his clothes, ready to be donned in an instant should he be spotted, hung Thomas’s hand-me-down shirt that had belonged to each of his five older brothers at some point, and would someday belong to his newest baby brother Benjamin, or Beanie Bull as they called him.
Their mother, Elnora, had always impressed the importance of clean clothes upon all eight of the Stoll children. Jeremiah, her eldest little brother at thirteen, always took care to steer clear of any dirt or grime when possible, since he was tasked with helping scrub out any dirty clothes before passing them on to their mother for washing. He did a wonderful job of keeping his little brothers out of the mud and gunk too. Eleven-year-old Matthew and nine-year-old John avoided soiling their clothes, but the eight-year-old twins were a different story. Isaac and Abram went through a phase when they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to become little mud ducks, as Rebekah called them, jumping into whatever puddle, river, or muddy stream they could, clothes and all.
Apparently, a seed of Elnora and Samuel’s wisdom had taken root in little Thomas, even in the enticing presence of a fresh mud puddle. Clean or not, however, it was clear that the young Stoll boy intended to fully utilize the “few minutes for a milk break” their father had mentioned in the barn moments earlier.
Rebekah, the oldest of her siblings at twenty, started toward him. Their milk break was long over and Samuel needed their help in the barn. She drew in a breath to call out to him, but before she could utter a sound, Thomas leaned over and sunk his chubby hands deep into the muck. Rebekah stopped walking and her eyes widened. Of all the Stoll children, every one of them boys except for her, it was little Thomas who could whip up mischief with nothing more than an empty bowl and a broken spoon, as their mother often said.
She sidled behind a bush and tried not to giggle as she waited to see what her impish, freckle-faced brother would do next.
Grinning, Thomas pulled his hands out of the muck with a resounding slurp.
Rebekah tucked the end of her gauzy white covering string into the corner of her mouth, just as she had done as a child. “Oh, Little Brother,” she whispered. “Don’t you do it...”
With his lips tilted upward, Thomas slowly brought up the duel handfuls of glistening mud and smashed them onto his head.
Rebekah pressed her fingers deep into her lips and tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to keep the laughter, that often followed her favorite little brother, from escaping.
As chunks of muck ran down Thomas’s freckled face, Rebekah could hold it in no longer. Letting go a resounding whoop, she doubled over. “Thomas,” she cried, her covering strings flailing wildly. She wanted to ask more, but the laughter that filled her throat allowed no words to pass.
Thomas froze, his hands still on his head.
Ever so slowly, he turned to face his sister.
The sight of him, with streaks of mud painting his guilty face, was too much for Rebekah. She sank to her knees and clutched her middle. “What—what are you—”
The question just wouldn’t form. Rebekah gave up trying to talk and conceded to the laughing fit as Thomas stood before her in all of his muddy glory.
Thomas licked his lips and eased his hands down. His bright blue eyes exuded equal parts innocence and trouble. “Sissy, don’t tell Pa. I was supposed to be getting a drink of milk, not playing in the mud.”
A tiny clod dangled in his eyelashes and his young voice bespoke of more meekness than it ever had before. “But it’s almost time for the snows to come and this mud puddle looked so in-invite—”
Rebekah swiped at a lock of blond hair that had come loose from under her covering. Her chest heaved as she tried to get her breathing back to normal. “You’re going to have quite a time trying to hide the fact that the mud puddle looked so inviting when Pa comes out of the barn.”
Thomas grinned his gap-toothed smile. “Inviting. That’s the word I wanted.”
Having regained her sisterly composure, Rebekah pushed herself up and dusted the Indiana dirt from her pale-blue dress. “Oh, Thomas.” She smiled and shook her head as she strode over to the water pump and plucked the bucket off the handle. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Little Brother.”
