“Oh, Joseph, thank God. Come here.” She held her arms out to her frosty beau. “Did you find Peter?”
Before he could answer, her brother stumbled in. His hat was gone, and his eyes were wide. They showed more of the whites than the colored part. With blond locks frozen in jumbled swirls, Peter’s exposed flesh was red and angry. The whole of his hands and the tip of his nose looked as though they had been dipped in wax, much like Rebekah’s fingertips had.
Curling her fingers around three more hunks of wood, Rebekah stoked the fire until it roared in the little rock cavern.
“Th-th-that w-was cl-cl-clos-close.” Joseph’s words were ragged.
Rebekah stripped his stiff coat off and tossed it beside the fire. “Here, let’s get you warm.”
He patted her arm with awkward, frozen thumps. “M-melt the s-snow in the t-t-tub for P-P-Peter.”
Some of the snow in the tub had already melted, but not all of it. Rebekah slid it as close to the fire as she could without placing it directly in the flames.
His hands shaking, Joseph hurried over next to Peter. “H-hands in the t-tub.”
“No.” It was obvious Peter wanted nothing to do with Joseph and would certainly not accept help from him.
“Then sit by the f-f-fire, at l-least,” Joseph managed.
Pulling his frozen duster over his shoulder, Peter turned to face the mouth of the cave. Rebekah watched his back tremble and shake—he had to be frozen near solid. Foolishly, he refused to accept help.
“Joseph,” Rebekah whispered. “Come.”
He scooted back to her side.
“Are you all right? How did you find him? We are down to about half of our firewood…” She let her voice trail off as she realized Joseph didn’t heed any of her questions or concerns. Instead, he simply stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. The ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he rubbed his hands together near the warmth of the flames. Then again, perhaps it was she who saw him through new eyes.
The spark that passed between them, the freshly proven knowledge that one would always be there for the other, surged through her. In that instant, Rebekah envisioned herself flinging off her covering and running through the woods, the wind in her face and hair blowing free, with only Joseph’s hand to guide her. The vision faded to the pair of them kneeling together in their home on a sleepy summer morning, quietly speaking to the Lord together.
In an uncharacteristically bold act, she reached across the small expanse between then and rested her hand on his. Turning his over, he linked his icy fingers through her warm ones, palm to palm.
“I can’t feel my hands or feet,” Peter announced, mostly to himself.
On instant alert, Rebekah released Joseph’s hand and crawled to her brother’s side. “Come, let us help you.”
He shot her a haughty glare. “Why would you want to help me?”
“Because you’re my brother.” She tugged on his duster sleeve. “Now please, come.”
Peter allowed Rebekah to pull him to the washtub. “I’m not sticking my hands in there.”
She glanced at Joseph, who nodded. “You will if you want to keep your fingers and hands.”
Joseph helped Rebekah push up Peter’s stiff duster sleeves. “Rebekah’s right, here. Don’t you worry now.”
Slowly, they pressed Peter’s hands into the water.
“No!”
The man’s face contorted in planes that Rebekah had never seen on another’s face before. His eyebrows furrowed so closely together, she feared he might rightly explode. With his mouth twisted into a grotesque shape, she could see his teeth fairly well.
“You have the same tooth as I do,” she observed absently. Joseph leaned to look.
“She’s right.” Sure enough, both Peter and Rebekah’s right front tooth overlapped the left a little.
Peter’s face softened. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he managed when he finally maneuvered his mouth back to its regular shape.
Joseph nodded. “We need to warm your nose up, too.”
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.”
