A quiet answer blanketed her tender heart.
Gelassenheit.
God’s will be done.
She smiled a tiny smile and sat up to stretch. There he was, the man who promised all of his tomorrows to her, sitting in the seat across from her. His black hair was askew, uncovered by the black wool hat that occupied the seat beside him.
“Good morning, Joseph.” Rebekah reached to straighten her covering, which felt all twisted and turned. And probably was. She scanned the immediate area. Several more people had joined their car. From where they’d come from, Rebekah wasn’t sure. Perhaps they’d stopped somewhere over night, or perhaps they’d simply grown tired of sitting in their seats elsewhere on the train and wanted a change of scenery. No matter, the one face she was looking for wasn’t anywhere to be found. Peter.
“Good morning, Rebekah.” Joseph ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up all the more.
She was powerless to stifle her giggle, but the catch in her neck made her jerk.
Joseph’s smile faded and he stuck his hat on to cover up his wild mane. “What’s the matter, Rebekah?”
“The night Pa took sick, I ran into the doorjamb. It really hurt my shoulder.” She tried to rotate it, but stopped. “Then I slept funny in the wagon on the way to Montgomery. Seems I caught a crick something awful.”
“Here, maybe I can help.” Joseph stood up and made a motion with his hand. “Turn around.”
“Um...”
Joseph dismissed her fears before she even let them pass her lips. “No worries, Rebekah. About what’s proper. Or what’s not.”
She caught his steely gaze and held it. A strange emotion stirred in her stomach. Vulnerability.
“You’re hurting. Let me help.”
Slowly, she did as she was told and turned her back to face Joseph. She closed her eyes and sucked in her lower lip as his hands brushed the tops of her shoulders. “Let’s work on that crick first, shall we?”
With practiced fingers, he began to knead her shoulders. Tight muscles, cinched up from days of unrestful sleep, began to relax. “Lean your head to the side.”
“Which side?” Her voice was a throaty whisper. “Um, this way?”
Rebekah leaned her head gingerly.
“If that’s what feels best.” He cradled her head in his hands and gently pressed her head sideways. “We will work this crick out together. But we have to talk to each other. If something hurts, tell me. If something feels good, tell me that too. Okay?”
Rebekah squinched her eyes shut. “Okay.”
“Now, the other direction.”
Cautiously, Rebekah let Joseph guide her head the other direction. “How does that feel?”
“Better, maybe?”
Joseph grunted and rolled her head forward. At once, with her head drooped down, he attacked the knots in her shoulders with nimble, practiced fingers. “Did you know that Ma gets headaches? Often.”
“Uh-huh,” Rebekah muttered.
“She asks me to rub her neck like this here. Says it helps relieve them. Knots in the neck and shoulders cause all kinds of problems.”
Joseph hit a sore spot with his thumb and Rebekah let out a groan. “That’s it, that’s the spot.”
“Okay.” Joseph kneaded and massaged, Rebekah a helpless rag doll at his mercy. Then, something popped. “I think we have it.”
With one hand, he pushed her upper back and with the other guided her into a straight upright position. “Now, I’m going to help you raise this arm. Ready?”
“Ready.”
Ever gentle, he grasped the underside of her arm and lifted. She felt the tension building the higher he lifted until finally, with her arm sticking up at an odd angle, all of the tension released in a resounding, gunshot-like pop. Every muscle in her upper body seemed to go flaccid and her eyes closed on their own. “Thank you, oh my. I didn’t realize how much it hurt until it stopped.”
“My pleasure, Rebekah.” Joseph didn’t move from behind her. “How is that shoulder, the one you hurt on the doorjamb?”
“I don’t really know.” Rebekah’s eyes remained closed. “I have not had the chance to look at it.” She bit back her words. “Actually, I’ve had the chance. I just haven’t made the time.”
“May I see it?”
Rebekah’s body stiffened.
“I didn’t mean...” Now it was Joseph’s turn to choke on his words. “Not that I would suggest that...”
Rebekah turned to face him, finally being able to move was a freeing feeling. Like she’d been trapped in a body that wasn’t her own, but now she suddenly got it back. She took his hand in hers. “Here.”
Slowly and carefully, she pressed it to her shoulder. “Ouch, right there.” She winced. “I think it’s swollen.”
“I’d say so.” Joseph pushed and felt and prodded. “I don’t think it’s broken though.”
“Just how many broken bones have you felt, Mister Graber?”
“Just one.”
“Really?” Rebekah furrowed her brow. “Who?”
“My own.”
Rebekah turned in her seat. “Joseph. What’s all this?”
Joseph sniggered. “Turn back around.”
“I believe you’re blushing!”
“Maybe I am.”
“Why?”
The woman with the cart strolled down the aisle again. There was no telling how many times she’d been up and down this particular aisle, but Rebekah’s stomach grumbled audibly when she heard her voice. Joseph’s grumbled in answer. “Last service call before we reach New York City.”
“Can I buy you breakfast, Future Mrs. Graber?”
