The sun was racing toward the horizon by the time Elnora emerged from the room she shared with her husband, Samuel. She wiped her hands on her apron and her blue eyes darted about, careful not to meet anyone else’s, as she appeared to be searching for the right English words to console her waiting family.
Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “Your father,” she started, “he is very sick man.”
The years of living in Gasthof Village, Indiana had erased most of Elnora’s German accent. However, even when she spoke English, her words still twanged with the musical hint of Pennsylvania Dutch, as did all the families who’d settled the American wilderness with the Stoll’s over two decades ago.
Bile rose in Rebekah’s throat, which was still raw from the scream. Not Pa, not my sweet, strong, handsome Pa.
Baby Beanie, the newest Stoll addition that Rebekah delivered herself, was oblivious to the somber goings-on. Stretching his chubby arms toward Elnora, he babbled, “Ga-ga-ga…Pa!”
Elnora plucked up Beanie and held her baby against her heaving chest.
“First word is Pa,” she managed in pained, syllabic words.
Tears sprang to Rebekah’s eyes and she knotted her hands in her lap. She couldn’t meet her mother’s watery gaze and she was unwilling to meet the questioning ones of all her younger brothers. Sucking in a gasp of courage, Rebekah readied herself for the questions which she knew, at least at this point, were still unanswerable.
Is he in pain?
What happened?
Can we go in and see him?
Will he come out of that room?
Will he be the same man he was before?
Rebekah opened her mouth. The question was heavy on her tongue. Will Pa...die?
Before she could verbalize any of the questions all the Stoll’s were sharing, even the heaviest one, a rapping came at the front door.
Rebekah’s nose burned and stubborn tears dripped onto her cheeks. “I’ll get it, Ma.”
The shakiness of her words was amplified in the empty upstairs hallway. The strange echo made her voice sound odd and foreign. She didn’t like it.
Elnora chewed her bottom lip and nodded, still rocking, obviously struggling to hold her fragile emotions at bay.
Please be Joseph Graber.
Rebekah swiped at her cheeks as she trotted down the stairs. She adjusted her covering over her hair before pulling open the wide wooden door that Samuel had carved for his family so many years ago. Pa.
The man at the door wasn’t Joseph Graber. In fact, he wasn’t even Amish.
“Evenin’, Miss. Might this be the home of craftsman Samuel Stoll?” Remembering himself, the stranger quickly removed his tall white hat, the kind English cowboys wore, and held it at his middle.
Icy bits of fear trickled down her backbone as she gazed at their visitor. However, his grandfatherly blue eyes sparkled in such a kind way that her fear dripped away and didn’t return. “Samuel Stoll is my father.”
He turned his hat in his hands and glanced off at the darkening horizon. “I’m sorry to come calling so late in the day,” he stammered. “It’s just that I was expectin’ Mr. Stoll to deliver his monthly order of wagon wheels this afternoon. I’ve never known him to be tardy in his shipments before.”
The Englishman’s blue gaze glimmered as it settled back on Rebekah. “By the way, I’m Mr. Williams. From the livery in Montgomery.”
Rebekah’s uneasiness melted at mention of the man’s name. Pa had spoken so highly of Mr. Williams over the years of doing business with him that he’d even coined him a nickname, The Amish Englishman.
She exhaled the breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh ya, Mr. Williams, hallo.” Her voice came out in a flutter. “I’m Rebekah.”
True to his English ways, Mr. Williams stuck out his hand. “How do Rebekah. I’ve heard mighty fine things about you.”
Rebekah shook his knobby, callused hand like she’d seen her own father do when speaking with the English. “Danke. Likewise, Mr. Williams.”
“Tell me, is your pa around? As I said, I’ve never known him to be tardy with a shipment.” The old man’s sunken cheeks turned a misty shade of scarlet. “I have customers waiting, overnight actually, for his handiwork. They’ve ridden in from as far away as Louisville.”
Those pesky burning tears seared again in the back of Rebekah’s throat before welling in her eyes. “I understand. My father is very talented.” Before she could help it, her voice cracked. “He took ill today, Mr. Williams. Yesterday my father was so strong and healthy, today he crumpled and fell...weak like a newborn calf...” Sobs, coming hard and fast, unleashed a torrent of tears that soaked her cheeks.
Mr. Williams, himself no doubt a father or grandfather, reached out and patted her arm with heavy, awkward thumps. “There now,” he cooed. His voice was calm and reassuring. “I’ve seen my share of sick folk in my day. Might I be able to come up and have a visit and see if I can be of assistance?”
Rebekah sniffled back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. “I’m not sure if—”
The thundering of feet on the wooden staircase interrupted her polite refusal. Jeremiah’s newly-cracking voice was edged in desperation. “Rebekah, come quickly. Pa’s very sick.”
Rebekah drew her fist to her mouth and tried to ignore the look of utter helplessness in her oldest younger brother’s eyes. Before she could answer either of them, Mr. Williams squeezed past and rushed up the stairs as a polite apology escaped his lips. “I know the Amish are supposed to keep separate from the English. And I respect your pa and your family. But maybe I can help.”
Chapter Two
Gasthof Village, Indiana Territory
Elnora tried to wrap her tongue around the foreign words. “Heart...seizure? What is this thing?”
Mr. Williams held his hat at his chest and turned it around in a circle, much the same way he had downstairs. Rebekah studied first him, then her pa, before turning her attention fully to her mother. The whispering of her brothers had quieted from the hallway when their mother spoke.
“They’re not quite sure ma’am, but a heart seizure has been known to drop a full-growed man for no reason a’tall, least none we can see.”
