All of the foreign words confounded Rebekah. “I beg your pardon?” she asked with a smile.
Patty snuggled into her rut in the wall and closed her eyes, still absently patting Noah. “A mantilla is what me mother wore on her head, like a veil, whenever she stepped into God’s house. A church.”
“Why?”
“Because she loved God. She says it shows her respect.” Patty kept patting, eyes shut. “It was her only possession when she died all too young.”
Rebekah didn’t press for details.
“What is a pilgrimage?”
“A holy journey. To sacrifice time out of your own doings and travel to see the Church of Rome.” She smiled in her near-sleep state. “You’re on a bit of a pilgrimage yourself, if you think of it.”
Rebekah’s heart pounded in her chest. “It sounds like an honor.”
“It is.”
Rebekah searched the fabric for the perfect place to place the green silky lace. “What did you do in Ireland? Before you became a wife and mother, I mean.”
“I was learning the healing arts. To be a nurse, they’re called here.” She yawned. “Which is how I try to keep us healthy. I couldn’t keep me Shad healthy though...” Patty’s words trailed off.
I do believe she fell asleep midsentence.
Rebekah reached for the candle between them and moved it closer.
Perhaps I can get this mostly finished today.
Her thoughts tangled like the patterns in the lace as she sewed. Wouldn’t it be something if Patty and Peter and Noah and I were related by blood somehow? Through our Irish blood? She is wise and has been dealt such a hand in life...
Dealt such a hand. Rebekah wondered briefly where she’d picked up that phrase before. Perhaps in passing English conversation. Perhaps even here.
Her fingers worked the needle over and through the blue fabric and the green lace, placing and sewing and praying.
Father God, please keep Your hand over Joseph and Peter as they scour the streets of New York City by moonlight in hopes of finding Katie. Please keep Katie safe and well out of harms reach. Please enlighten her heart in the way that only You can, to show her truth. Truth of Peter, Joseph, and me.
Her heart panged with the thought of there being any kind of truth between Katie and Joseph, but she ignored it. No more selfish thinking, Rebekah. None.
She continued her prayer. Please God, pave a road before Patty and Noah, and do it for Your glory and honor as they both seem to know You so well.
Please take care of my father and my family as they endure my father’s sickness without him, me, or Jeremiah. Bless them with peace and help this entire journey to come to a fruitful, perfect ending that does Your will.
In Jesus’s name.
She thought briefly about the odd movement Patty and Noah did at the diner, and smiled.
Amen.
When she was finished, the candle was almost spent. Sweat dripped down Rebekah’s nose as she stuck her precious little needle into the pincushion her mother had sewn for her. Filled with raw corn kernels, she’s sewn it to look like an ear of corn. Rebekah loved it dearly.
She held the dress up before her. Both sleeves done in cornflower blue and sewn onto the bodice. Cuffs and collar done with red and black, from the old man at the depot. “Those were going to be booties for his grandchildren.” Her heart warmed.
The bodice itself complete and sewn onto the skirt.
She turned it over. The green lacy prayer shawl made a perfect addition as a shawl over the back and shoulders of her wedding dress. Her eyes misted again. The women who held this lace were strong, faithful women, seeking God in countries I’ve never visited, never known. Yet a piece of their strength found its way here, through the dim streets of New York City, and onto a wedding dress, pieces of which I’ll pass down to my daughter someday. She can use these very pieces to make a quilt for her babies...
Tears of love and humility flowed down Rebekah’s cheeks with cleansing passion. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” Joseph’s voice interrupted her holy thoughts.
She laughed then covered her mouth. “Hold on, let me put my dress away.”
Carefully, she tucked it into her quilting bag, then stowed it safely behind her. “Okay, come on in.”
“You mean, you knew I was here and still had it out?” Joseph’s joking voice gave a warmth to the little bolt hole that wasn’t there before.
“I was thanking God, Joseph,” she giggled, taking care to keep quiet.
Neither Patty nor Noah stirred.
“Oh, I see.” Joseph climbed in and situated himself at the mouth of the little cave. “Or maybe I already knew that.” He shrugged. They shared a quiet laugh.
Rebekah sniffled. Emotions were raw and seemed to be bursting at the seams to be exposed, which left her teary, thankful, and scared, all at the same time. “Did you have any luck?”
Joseph shook his head. “Nobody would really speak to us and those that did didn’t make much sense.” He glanced at the fabric covering that acted as a door and dropped his voice. “Peter is sleeping outside, though I’m not sure he’ll sleep at all, truth be told. He is beside himself.”
“Did you walk far?”
“As far as we dared without getting lost. This town is really something. The only thing that reminded me of Gasthof Village was the smell of horses.” Joseph took off his boots and sat them carefully beside the door. He placed his hat over the top of them and leaned back again. “We walked past something called a Met Opera House. The words were strange, Romani something or other.” He shrugged. “I always considered myself a fair to good reader in school, but the words here don’t make much sense to me. The name was strange too. Featuring Minerva Dika. At least I’m assuming that’s a name.”
“And no sign of Katie anywhere? Or the woman she’s traveling with?”
“Not at all.” Joseph’s eyes fluttered. “Even took a stroll down the docks to look for anything or anyone that might help us find her. Every ship had a name, strangest thing. Winston Wilbur, Augusta Victoria, Jenny Two.” He yawned a great yawn. “Strangest thing.”
Rebekah’s shoulders fell. She was certain the boys would find something to lead them to Katie or at least her whereabouts. She wasn’t used to Peter or Joseph being unsuccessful in any mission, and didn’t like the helpless emotion that followed.
With a puff, she extinguished the nub of a candle.
“Gelassenheit,” she whispered. “God’s will be done.”
Chapter Eleven
New York City
Katie looped her arm through Nellie’s as they walked out of the opera house and into the freshly fallen darkness. “That was so long, but it seemed so short!”
“Five hours of Gypsy opera,” Nellie agreed. “Tell me, what did you think?”
“Beautiful,” Katie breathed. “It was beautiful. I’ve never experienced anything so...” Katie searched her vocabulary for the correct word. “So...”
