When he raised his face, they still glistened with unspent moisture. “My fear is, what if she truly does not want to be caught?”
Rebekah thought for a moment. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid...”
“John 14:27,” Peter finished. His nose twitched and his lower lip began to tremble.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid.” Joseph paused until Peter shifted his attention to him. “Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
“Joshua 1:9,” Peter whispered.
Rebekah cleared her throat. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” She held up her rumpled quilting bag. “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
She cocked an eyebrow and dared a giggle, which Joseph joined. After a moment, Peter snorted. Before anyone could say anything else, the lot of them were overtaken by a raucous fit of laughter that loosened Peter’s tears, but not before turning them from sullen to happy. Jovial laughter chimed off the walls and filled the stark little depot with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.
As the hilarity fizzled out, a voice they hadn’t expected to hear spoke softly. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters,” the owlish man began. When all three were staring at him, he continued. “He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake.”
Rebekah smiled. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”
Joseph looked at his intended. “You prepareth a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. You anoint mine head with oil. My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…”
Everyone in the little depot finished together. “And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
“Psalm 23.” Peter smiled an easy smile. “Thank you for that reminder. Faith is a blessing, and there is no room for fear in faith.”
“And in love,” Rebekah added. She tried to ignore the blush that flamed in her cheeks as she looked anywhere but at Joseph.
Peter sighed. “Katie needs to know we love her—that I love her—and then let her make her decision about what to do next.”
His words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t have to say how much hung on Katie’s decision. But Rebekah knew that her brother had set his sights on marrying Katie Knepp once he was baptized and fully welcomed into the Amish faith.
Joseph nodded, then stopped. “Katie’s decision. It won’t impact your decision to become Amish, and become the Wagler’s son, will it?”
Peter twiddled his thumbs, then looked at Joseph. He didn’t speak and Rebekah couldn’t quite read the shadowed look in his eyes. Ever silent, Peter stood and shuffled out the front doors of the depot.
The owlish ticket man cleared his throat. “I’m mighty sorry I couldn’t be more help, folks.” Rebekah noticed he’d made no headway in mending his glasses. “But it’s high time I head home for the evening.”
He hesitated, like a new father unsure of how to help with a crying baby. “Miss Molly Price has a boarding house across Main Street, but her prices are steep. My place is too small for the lot of us, with it just being my wife and me.”
Rebekah and Joseph looked up in tandem from where they sat. Her eyes widened as realization set in. “Oh, we hadn’t given any thought as to where we would stay for the night.”
The old man nodded. “Tuck in for the night here, folks. Your train for New York will be here at 8:00 a.m.”
“It’s going to be a long night,” Rebekah said aloud. Her fingers knotted above her quilting bag, as though they too dreaded the dress they were tasked to make. “May as well make the most of my time.”
“Good idea,” Joseph whispered. “Think I’ll step out front. See if Peter needs some company.”
Rebekah pulled the swath of blue fabric out of her rumpled bag. Her brows knitted together as she studied where she’d stopped and where she was supposed to start again.
“Rebekah?”
Heat burned in her neck at the tone of Joseph’s voice. Sweet as honey, soft as velvet. A tone he’d never used with her before.
“Yes?” Something quivered in her stomach.
Joseph’s stared intently at her from beneath his broad-brimmed hat. “No matter what happens, I’ll be honored to call you my wife.”
Emotion threatened to strangle her. “You mean what happens with Katie and Peter?” A bead of sweat slid precariously down her backbone.
Joseph’s handsome face, boasting just a hint of a shadowy stubble, broke into a grin. “No, with your dress.”
His joke shattered the intimate moment, but not in an unwelcome way. Rebekah let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Of course, if it stays together through the ceremony, we’ll all be blessed.”
She smiled to herself, but didn’t meet Joseph’s gaze.
Will this be what it’s like when we’re married? Joking together and talking, in ways we don’t talk with anybody else?
Joseph strode out the door.
Rebekah sighed. “Time to get to work.” She poked the slippery little needle through the cornflower blue fabric. It was the only needle she’d thought to bring on such short notice and the thought of losing it on this journey brought a slight tremble to her fingers. This should be a shoulder to my wedding dress...
Rebekah was focusing so intently on her work, she didn’t hear the ticket taker creep up behind her until he spoke.
“You know, my wife can do better.” He squinted from over Rebekah’s shoulder at her poor workmanship.
“I do not disagree with you.” She sighed. “I think a three-year-old could probably do better than me.”
“Would you like for my wife to put that dress together for you tonight?” The old man’s tone was thoughtful. “I can have it back here for you before your train to New York City in the morning.”
Rebekah shifted and smiled at the old man. Such a sweet offer reminded her of something her pa would say. A fleeting thought of her father, lying sick and alone in an English bed, flashed through her mind. She bit her lip as a wave of nostalgia threatened to drown her.
