“I believe she wants to be left alone. It sounds as though she’s made up her mind.” Joseph’s baritone voice drowned the wind out.
Peter whirled, unaware that he’d been snuck up on. “I’m taking her home.”
Stepping past him as easily as if he were stepping by the Yoder’s pup, Joseph extended his hand to Rebekah. She took it and melted into the warmth of his embrace. “She is home.”
He kept his back to Peter and spoke into her ear. “Storm’s getting worse. Let’s go.”
The wind wailed and lashed their faces with snowflakes and pieces of sleet. “Let me grab the laundry.”
“I’ll get it for you,” Joseph called. He turned and then turned back to her. “Where is it?”
Rebekah gestured to where she had been sitting only moments before. “It’s right—”
Her shout was lost to the wind. The snow had begun to fall so quickly that only the top of the washtub was visible. The laundry and the flat rock were completely blotted out by the mounds of snow.
“It’s coming fast.” Rebekah heard the trill in her voice as Joseph stepped to retrieve the tub.
“We won’t make it to the house.” His voice was a shout. “Come on, we have to find shelter.”
He pushed the tin bucket into her hands. Filled with snow, it was even heavier than when it was filled with laundry.
“Come on, Peter, we’re finding shelter,” Rebekah called. Had Joseph not held her arm, she wouldn’t have been able to follow him. The conditions had gone from cold to freezing in a moment and the snow didn’t appear to have any intention of letting up. She could barely make out Joseph’s silhouette in front of her. “Come on, Peter.”
Joseph pulled her down to the ground. He gave her a shove from behind, and she found herself in the shelter of a rock cave. A haphazard mess of sticks was piled near the back and it was roomy enough to fit all three of them. Despite the sheltering walls, the air inside was bitterly cold.
Rebekah’s hands trembled against the laundry tub and the sleeves of her wet dress were frozen. Not the slushy kind of frozen as her clothing sometimes got while playing outside in the powdery Indiana snow with her brothers. No. Frozen. Stiff. Solid. Into black slabs of ice
Her teeth chattered, and her arms might as well have been chunks of dead wood. She glanced down. The tips of her fingers were as white as though they’d been dipped in candle wax.
Joseph followed her gaze and immediately began rubbing them.
“P-p-p-pete-t-t—” she stuttered. Her tongue felt as frozen as her hands.
So do my eyes. And nose.
“He’s not here yet.” Joseph cupped his mouth around her hands and blew.
If his breath was warm on her fingers, it went unfelt. “Let’s get you warm and then I’ll go out after him.”
He didn’t seem to suffer the effects of the cold nearly as much as her. Then again, he hadn’t splashed in the river, either.
“G-g-go n-n-o-o-ow Jo-jo-jo—” Her stutter had worsened, and the chill might well have wrapped itself around her very bones.
“Ssh, don’t try to talk.” He bent her arms and tucked her fingers under her armpits. “Keep them there, all right?”
Joseph grabbed a handful of sticks from the back of the little cave and broke them into a pile of dry wood. Reaching in one pocket, he produced a little instrument that Rebekah hadn’t seen since Rumspringa. Had her mouth not been frozen into a stiff line, she would have smiled at the memory.
“Now, don’t tell anyone I have this.” He held the wire in one hand and with a quick succession of squeezes, the little rocks at the end of each piece of wire knocked together and produced a spark. Joseph held it down in the middle of the pile of kindling. A moment later, a humble flame appeared. He cocked his mouth into a half-smile. “Now I guess I know why I saved that little flint.”
He rubbed his hands up and down Rebekah’s arms and situated her closer to the fire. “If it gets low, can you feed it another stick?”
She nodded.
“Good girl. I’m going after your brother. I’ll be right back.” At the mouth of the little rock cave, he looked back.
I love you. If only her mouth would form the words.
Joseph flashed her that dazzling dimpled smile followed by a wink.
Then, he was gone.
***
Rebekah focused on the little flame that had grown into a modest fire. Her eyelids drooped, but she would focus on the fire.
It has to be going when the men get back. They’ll probably be frozen solid.
Slowly, she removed one hand from under her arm. The feeling was coming back, and her fingers hurt. Badly.
Rebekah ignored the stabbing sensation and tried to wrap her waxy fingers around another stick, but they wouldn’t bend. Using her hand like a club, she whacked the wood off the top of the stack.
The pain that shot through her fingers and up her arm was reminiscent of the one winter she’d made the mistake of hopping out of bed barefoot on the cold floor. She’d thought the knifelike stabbing sensations that had shot up her legs then were bad. This was worse.
As the fire caught hold of the new wood, Rebekah held her hands out to soak up as much of the warmth as possible. She whimpered and moaned as the feeling pulsed back into her fingers. Finally, she could bend them, and her mind also relaxed enough to form a coherent thought.
Please, God, protect Joseph and Peter—
Rebekah’s prayer was cut short when Joseph fell into the cave. His teeth chattered loudly, and his lips were tinged blue.
