“Yes, Mamm?” Her clammy hand slid from Elnora’s, so she clutched the quilt instead.
“The chamber pot is right here, beneath the window. You can reach it easily.” Her mother motioned to the blue pot beside the nightstand. “If the need strikes, use it.”
Heat crept into Rebekah’s cheeks at the prospect of using the chamber pot. “Yes, Mamm.”
“I must get your fater home now. He was so worried about you. I fear he tired himself out even further by coming with me here.”
Rebekah shifted her weight in the bed, uncomfortable under the weight of her mother’s words. “I am so sorry for falling ill.”
“No child. Do not be sorry. Look at your fater and see what love does. See how it gives you courage and strength to do things that you might not otherwise believe you could.” She offered her daughter a wry smile.
Rebekah kissed her fingers and held them out to her mother. Then, as quietly as she’d come, Elnora made her exit. As she eased the door closed behind her, Rebekah saw her lean to help Samuel to his feet. Her heart twisted in her chest. Love.
When I become a parent, will it change the way I love, too?
From somewhere in the hallway, bopplin Beanie, the baby Rebekah herself helped deliver, squeaked his trademark toddler squeak. Elnora called that particular squeak his mamm call.
Rebekah shifted on the bed again. “Mamm had a gute idea about the chamber pot.” She leaned carefully toward the nightstand, but something else caught her eye. Something that had more urgency in it than her need for the chamber pot. The letter from Katie lying there. Innocent. Forgotten.
Rebekah chewed her lip and, without too much forethought, pinched the envelope between her thumb and forefinger. “Time to find out what was so intriguing in Katie’s letter to my mann.”
Chapter Three
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths. – Proverbs 3:5
Katie’s trademark loopy script on the outside of the envelope made Rebekah’s already sensitive stomach churn afresh.
She hiccupped and grimaced at the taste of stale bile in the back of her throat.
Why would a letter from Katie be addressed only to Joseph?
She tried to make sense of it, of why her husband would be receiving letters penned only to him from the woman who had made it her be all and end all mission to sway his affections her way. She turned it over and over in her mind, examining every possible reason. Surely there has to be a sensible explanation.
Rebekah wracked her brain as the letter burned like fire in her hands.
Just open it and read it.
But it is not addressed to you.
Joseph left it here for you to read. After all, you are married—what happens to him, happens to you, too.
Is anything good really going to come from reading this letter?
Rebekah slid the thickly creased paper out of the envelope. Slowly, as though she was doing something horribly wrong, she unfolded the paper and began to read.
Dear Joseph,
Hello from the great state of Texas, where the sunsets are a daily reminder of Gotte’s love for us. How is Indiana? I know you must be very lonely without me there to pick at. Haha!
How is married life treating you? I have no complaints here, in fact, we just found out that we are having a bopplin! In other news, Annie has met someone. Don’t be shocked, but he is not Mennonite nor is he Amish. He is an Englischer cowboy! I will have to tell you all about that in person when we see you next. I hope it is sooner rather than later! Give our best to Rebekah.
Sincerely,
Katie…and Peter, too.
She swallowed back the lump of hurt that had risen in her throat. There has to be a reason Katie would send this just to him. Surely, she would not be trying to seduce him through the written word. Still trying to sway his affections her way—away from me.
Rebekah held the letter and the envelope in one hand. Her hand started to tremble, and her mind began to race. “Perhaps Thomas was mistaken, and this letter was meant for us both.” Rebekah fumbled the envelope and flipped it over so quickly that it almost flew off the bed. Hot tears burned her eyes and her lower lip trembled as she searched the envelope for the words—or lack of words—that would either soothe or break her heart. Mr. and Mrs. Graber perhaps?
She chewed her cheek and scanned the telling.
Thomas was correct. This is addressed only to Joseph.
Something sour prickled in her gut. Something that made the rising bile in the back of her throat taste all the more bitter.
Jealousy.
The sour taste was jealousy and unfortunately, it was bitterly familiar.
She’d tasted it before when Katie was nearby. When she had usurped hers and Joseph’s sweetheart tree. On the schoolyard when she would pretend to twist her ankle and fuss and whine until Joseph came to check on her. Disappearing during her Rumspringa and running off to New York, only weeks before Joseph and Rebekah were due to marry.
Now, from a world away, Katie still had the power to turn her stomach.
If she hadn’t been so adamant about her feelings for Joseph all those formative years ago…
If she hadn’t switched her overzealous affections from Joseph the moment Peter showed up at Gasthof Village…
Then, if she hadn’t been so quick to run out on Peter, all the way to Texas, when the urge struck her…
If she wasn’t so…Katie.
Rebekah’s shoulders hunched up with each wave of insecurity, higher and higher until they came to rest somewhere around her ears.
Rebekah, stop it.
The thought came so forcefully, she almost said the words aloud. She forced her shoulders down to their natural position and began to pray.
Dearest Gotte, my Fater in heaven. I prayed for Your will to happen in my life so many times, in so many circumstances, but none more than recently. When I prayed for Gelassenheit, that Your will be done, Joseph and I were married and life evened out in such wunderbaar, incomprehensible ways.
She drew in a deep breath and leaned back onto her pillow. Joseph chose you and you chose him, she reminded herself. Rebekah closed her eyes. Time and again, he rejected Katie and chose you. He has proven, over and over, that he loved only you. You must stop this needless worry.
Worry is a sin. Cast your cares on me.
Somewhere, deep in her prayer, Rebekah drifted off into a peaceful sleep. In her dreams, she’d baked a lovely, fragrant cinnamon cake, but whenever she went to take it from the oven, it moved away from her. She reached in, further and further, but the cake remained just out of her reach. Everything around her heated, as she climbed into the oven, and sweat began to drip down her chest and back. Still, the smell was so aromatic that she awoke, sweaty all over, with a watering mouth. “Ah, cinnamon cake,” she mumbled.
She rubbed her eyes. Slowly, the sight of a smeary-faced Joseph, darkening the doorway with a platter of food in hand, came into view. Rebekah giggled over her growling stomach. “Ach du lieva, Mr. Graber,” she said in a sleep-heavy voice. “Your cinnamon cake woke me.”
“Woke you?” Joseph’s ebony eyebrows furrowed over his sparkling eyes. “Was I too loud in the kitchen?”
