Elnora slid the dresser drawer open and rummaged a moment before holding Rebekah’s brightest covering out to her. “Well,” she began, “Joseph won’t be coming tonight because he is walking up the path to our house right now.”
Rebekah’s jaw went slack. The sinking feeling in her stomach soared at once and propelled her out of bed.
Her ma’s voice fluctuated with girlish twinges as Rebekah rummaged in her dresser. “Shall I tell him you’ll be right down?”
“Oh yes, Ma, please,” she managed as she plucked a plain, dark-green dress from her modest selection. Green for spring.
Elnora waddled from the room and tottered at the top of the stairs.
“Ma, wait!”
With the dress and matching cape flung over her arm, Rebekah dashed to her mother’s side. She wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace and spoke into her shoulder. “I love you, Ma. Thank you for a beautiful start to my birthday!”
***
Rebekah kept her hands clasped behind her back as she and Joseph, her oldest friend, walked across the meadow. She had walked alongside him too many times to count over the years. First as children, then during Rumspringa, and now as young adults. This morning, though, the air between them was different. Thicker perhaps, more pronounced.
Joseph kicked a clod of dirt. “Your mother’s cinnamon cake smelled delicious.”
She nodded in agreement but kept her eyes trained on the ground.
If I look at Joseph now, I’ll blush and not know why.
“I figured you would have a cinnamon cake. Has she shared her recipe with you yet?” His eyes were upon her, staring. She willed the heat to cool in her cheeks.
If I let him look in my eyes, he will see what I’m feeling. I don’t even know what I’m feeling. It’s all too strange.
Not trusting her words, Rebekah shook her head and focused on the way his black, square-tipped shoes complimented hers beneath their dark-hued clothing.
Strange and wonderful.
Joseph slid his hands up and down his black britches. “I made you something for your birthday.”
An icy knot clunked to the bottom of her stomach. “You did?” Her words came out in a squeak. “Danke.”
Having you to share today with is gift enough.
The words were fierce on the tip of her tongue. Rebekah slipped it between her teeth and clenched to keep from spitting them out on the Indiana soil.
I could never say those words to a man. An unmarried man, who also happens to be my friend. My best friend.
“You’re awfully quiet today, Rebekah.” Joseph shifted his weight. “Don’t you even want to know what your gift is?”
She let her gaze meander up the lean, black-clothed frame of her oldest companion. Starting at his black shoes, up the extra-long black britches, over the dark-green shirt his mother had sewn just for him, and finally, to his face. The one that had grown so handsome over the years that it often appeared in her thoughts without warning. As an unmarried man, Joseph was still clean shaven. His constant smile readily revealed the deep dimples that made her insides turn to applesauce. “Rebekah?”
She stared into his eyes as deep and blue as the lake on a summer day. Joseph gazed at her in such a way that Rebekah was certain he could see all her heart’s deepest secrets.
“Ja?” She admired the way his thick, black hair curled out from under his dark felt, special-occasion hat.
“Do you want to see your gift, or shall I keep it for myself?” His thick brows arched skyward.
The mellow sounds of the lake snapped her out of her trance. “Ja. I would.”
I hope my covering is long enough to hide this redness creeping up my neck.
“Good.” Joseph meandered over to a nearby tulip tree. He plucked something from beneath the shady branches and started back toward her with two sticks in his hand.
He offered one to her. “Happy birthday, Rebekah. I carved these for us out of a couple of branches that got knocked off the tree there.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Our tree.”
Freshly carved, the pole’s scent reminded Rebekah of fresh honey.
Our tree?
Her heart pounded in her ears as she ran her hand down the smooth wood. “Danke, Joseph.”
“Oh, be careful.” He reached quickly to dislodge a dainty wooden hook she hadn’t noticed before. It was concealed in a special notch in the wood. In his haste, his skin brushed hers.
Rebekah froze. A rash of fire and ice trailed from Joseph’s hand on her skin like a shooting star.
Surely our hands have touched over the years? It certainly never felt like that.
Ever mindful of his work, he released the tiny hook from his fingertips. It was attached to the tip of the pole with a single strand of horsehair and dropped like a spider on a strand of web.
“A fishing pole!” Rebekah laughed. “I thought it was only a good-smelling stick!”
“Your own fishing pole. Now, all you have to do is find a worm and you can catch our lunch.” A mischievous grin dimpled his cheeks.
Her shyness spent at the mention of worms, Rebekah eyed him warily. “I don’t know how to fish. Or how to catch a worm.”
Joseph’s face brightened. “Well then, today’s your lucky day, because I am just the man to teach you.” He pointed to a patch of damp dirt in the shade of the tulip tree, not too far from the water. “We’ll dig here.”
He shed his jacket and placed it face down on the grass near the mud patch. “So you don’t get your dress dirty,” he mumbled.
Careful to avoid his eyes, Rebekah knelt on Joseph’s jacket and pushed up her wrist-length sleeves. “Thank you.”
“First thing to remember when you’re hunting for worms,” Joseph instructed, “is to—”
Without waiting for him to finish, Rebekah plunged her hands into the inviting dampness of the earth. The cool mud squished between her fingers and the heavy aroma of the natural world made her heart light.
“That’s a good way to start.” He chuckled. “Now, simply feel around for worms. They’ll try to get away from you, so you got to be quick.”
Rebekah moved her hands around in the soggy dirt. “What does a worm feel like?”
“Slimy.”
After a few moments, something wriggled against her hand. “Oh, Joseph! Oh! I think I have one.”
Rebekah grasped wildly in the spongy ground. As she removed her hands from the muck, the sucking, slurping sound made her crinkle her nose.
