The Saddle Maker's Son (6 page)

Tobias turned his back and smiled to himself. Served Levi right for being so distrusting. A man had to take what was given as if it were a gift from God. Because it always was, no matter how unlikely it seemed and whether the gift wore faded blue jeans and a silver buckle.

Levi's tread to the door was slow. “Stop by the school at noon on your way home to eat.”

Once the shop was open they would bring their noon meal. Not today. Leftover hamburger-cabbage casserole awaited them at the house. Martha was a good cook. She did a lot with a little and made it go a long way. “Why?”

“That dead snake was the mudder. Bunch of babies out there. Whole area around the outhouse is infested.”

“Ach.”

“Take a look around. I scattered the babies, but there may be more of the bigger ones. They like to den together in the winter. It's time for them to come out now that the cold has passed.”

As if the weather here could be described as cold. Lukewarm, maybe. Tobias nodded. He could check on Lupe and Diego while he was at it.

Rebekah would be there. As good a reason as any to stop.

Rebekah with her dark hair and blue eyes. So different from Serena's blonde hair, green eyes, and deliberate way of telling a story that drove him crazy. No one could draw out a story like Serena. She always had a point. She just liked taking her time getting there.

“Say hey to Rebekah and make sure she's not putting silly ideas in Lupe's and Diego's heads about staying here. Susan already has them teaching lessons and learning English.”

If mind reading were possible, Levi would be first in line to provide the service. “Or you could do it when you pick up the kinner after school. You could give Susan a good talking-to for being such a teacher with a heart for lost children.”

Levi stalked away without an answer.

Tobias chuckled. Tit for tat. His daed didn't like that, but sometimes a person got what he deserved.

The snore gave Caleb away. Sometimes teaching was fun. Rebekah grinned at Susan and tiptoed down the aisle to the boys' side where her brother's head bobbed and his open mouth emitted a sound somewhat like a train rumbling on the tracks. A bit of drool teetered on his chin. Any minute and his lolling head would bob forward and collide with his scarred wooden desk. It was a wonder he didn't wake himself up with all that ruckus. It certainly made it hard to hear the little ones practice reading in English. It wasn't very polite either.

She leaned in close, snapped her fingers by his ear, and yelled, “Boo.”

Caleb bolted upright, his gaze wild as he whirled around. “What? What?”

“You were sleeping in class.” Rebekah didn't bother to keep accusation from her tone. Sleeping set a bad example for the rest of the scholars. Even if it was funny. “You get to lead the class in a song.”

Caleb hung his head. “I didn't mean to fall asleep. History is so boring.” His face brightened. “Is it time for arithmetic yet? I'm good at numbers.”

“If you don't know history, you might end up doing the same thing over. That gets humans into trouble all the time.” Susan shook a finger at him. It made her look like such a teacher. “It might not seem important now, but when you're older, you'll understand.”

“How about science?” Caleb read all the books about plants and animals. He knew almost as much as Mordecai about the sky and stars and birds. “I do good with bugs and stuff.”

“Well. You do well.” Susan shook her head, frowning. “A person should be well rounded.”

“Why do I have to know this stuff to plant onions and broccoli?” Caleb rolled his eyes, his disgust plain in his freckled face. “It's more important to know about weather and irrigation and how to make things grow in a drought. Families can't eat history.”

“You can learn those things, but first you will learn how to do as you're told. Okay, students. It's time for a Spanish lesson. Spanish is practical. We can all use it when we go to the border.” Susan clapped her hands together. “Lupe, come up front and be the teacher.”

Rebekah inhaled the scent of sweaty feet, chalk, and the taco casserole Susan had heated for her noonday meal. She would never tell Susan, but she agreed with Caleb. She longed to be outside. She could see the sunshine through the windows that lined one side of the schoolroom. A breeze was blowing, making tree branches rustle against the glass. The sound called to her.
Come out and play.

Which was why she should never be the teacher. So what did that leave her? She couldn't get a job in town. Mudder wouldn't allow it. She touched her hand to her apron as if she could touch Leila's note, still tucked in the hem. At noon she would see her sister and find out what was so urgent that Leila felt it necessary
to see a sister she'd abandoned without so much as a good-bye. Maybe she wanted to say she was sorry. After all this time it seemed unlikely. What difference would that make now, anyway? Rebekah had to forgive Leila, one way or another.

The Bible said so. The bishop said so. Mordecai said so.

Only Rebekah couldn't wrap her heart around the words and say them so she meant them. Leila would know that.

Rebekah batted the thoughts away. They were an endless cycle she couldn't stop. Better to focus on Lupe, who had trudged on bare feet to the front of the room, her head down, her cheeks pink. Lupe and Diego needed help. Leila and Jesse might be able to provide that help. Maybe something good would come from their decision to leave the community. To leave Rebekah with a bunch of boys who figured she would go next. Never in her life had she thought of leaving the district. And she never did anything because her sisters did it. More likely, she would do the opposite. Anyone who knew her, knew that.

Stop thinking. Focus on Lupe here and now.
The girl stopped in front of the black chalkboard, shifting from one foot to the other on the wooden floor. She didn't like being the center of attention, that was apparent.

Susan pointed to herself. “Teacher.”

Lupe tucked her dark, straight hair behind her ear and ducked her head.
“Maestra.”

This was knowledge Rebekah could use. She might still get to go to Mexico one day. That she could look forward to doing. But Lupe looked as if she wished she were anywhere else in the world at that moment. Rebekah edged to the front of the room. “I'll help. You say the word and I'll repeat it.”

Lupe squinted as if that would help her understand.

“Maestra.”

“You have to speak up, honey. I can't hear you, and if I can't hear you, neither can they.” Susan waved her hand at the other scholars. “It's okay, they won't bite.”

“Ma-es-tra.” Lupe stretched the word out in three long syllables. “Teacher.”

“Everyone.” Rebekah flung her hands in the air. “Ma-es-tra.”

The sounds coming from the scholars varied from close to nowhere in the same county.

“Again.”

And again until they more or less had it.

“What about this?” Liam held up his pencil. “What do you call this?”

“Jah, and what about me? What am I?” Nyla pointed to herself. “And my desk, what do you call that?”

Diego popped up from his spot next to Liam.
“Lápiz.”

“Pencil?” Liam waggled his pencil back and forth, his face scrunched up as he tried to work his tongue and lips around the Spanish word. “La-peas?”

Diego raised his hands and did a little dance. “Lápiz, lápiz, lápiz.”

“Everyone!” Rebekah matched her dance step to his. “La-peas, la-peas, la-peas.”

Caleb burst into a belly laugh that made Rebekah giggle. The scholars popped up from their desks and did the same jig, giggling so hard the words were unintelligible.

Breathless, she stopped dancing. “What? Is there something wrong with my steps?”

“Nee, but your pronunciation is awful.” Caleb guffawed and plopped back in his seat. “Even I can do better than that.”

“Fine, how do you say it?”

“La-pees.”

“That's what I said.”

“Nee, it's not. You said la-peas.”

“That's enough!” Susan wiped tears of laughter from her cheek with a white handkerchief. “Close enough, right, Lupe?”

A big grin stretched across her thin face, Lupe shrugged.
“Me gusta reir.”

“What does that mean?”

Lupe giggled, hand to her mouth. She smiled big and put her fingers at both ends of her lips. “Ha, ha, ha.”

“You like to laugh?”

She nodded. Rebekah put an arm around the girl. Seeing her laugh brought light to a cloudy day. “Me too. Laughing is one of the best things to do, isn't it?”

“Oh no, oh no!” Diego's small face scrunched up in a frown, and he shot from his seat and raced down the aisle to the back of the room. “Pedro! Pedro!”

“What is it?” Rebekah squeezed Lupe's arm and let go. “What's he doing?”

Lupe scrambled after her brother. She glanced back. “Mouse.”

“What?”

“Tobias say it is mouse.”

“What is mouse?”

“Pedro.”

“There it is.” Hazel hopped from her seat and shrieked. “Mouse, mouse, Teacher, there's a mouse in the school!”

“It's just a mouse.” Susan bustled down the aisle after Diego. “Nothing to get excited about.”

A mouse wasn't Rebekah's favorite kind of pet, but Caleb had
had worse. Like a green garter snake. And a hamster. Hamsters were similar to mice. He'd even befriended some beetles. The turtles weren't so bad, though.

Lupe stuck her head under a desk, then another. “He is amigo. Diego sad if he lost.”

Rebekah followed her and began to look as well. Anything to make Diego feel better. “Friend?” A little boy who'd left his home, his family, his country, would indeed want to hang on to whatever friends he found along the way on this terrible journey to a new country and new life. “Let's help him look for Pedro.”

The scholars needed no prompting. They scattered, peering in corners and under desks and behind the stove.

“Got him!” Caleb held up the wiggling brown creature with long whiskers and a longer tail. “He's cute.”

Cute? He was wrinkled and had beady eyes.

“Pedro. Pedro!” Diego hurled himself across the room.
“Ratoncito.”

“Ratoncito.” All the scholars joined in. “Ratoncito.”

Rebekah slipped up next to Susan. “Ratoncito, Teacher?”

“A friend is a friend.” Susan clapped her hands. The scholars dropped into their seats. Diego slipped Pedro back in his little home. Susan's attempt to look stern failed. She smiled. “Everyone sit. Let's learn a few more words, but without the show-and-tell.”

Rebekah sidled closer. “The live show-and-tell?”

“Sí.”

Rebekah laughed. “Sí.” Show-and-tell had never been so much fun. “They're learning from each other, though. That's gut, isn't it?”

“It is gut. We can all learn from each other.” Susan cocked her head, her expression pensive. “See, teaching can be fun.”

“I know that.” Rebekah slipped past her and picked up a piece
of chalk. Time to put the algebra assignment up. “I think teaching is fun.”

“You tell fibs and your nose will grow.”

“I'm not.”

Susan patted her shoulder. “It's okay. It doesn't hurt my feelings. I never thought I'd be a teacher either.”

“But you like to read and write. You read books all the time and you write letters to your brother and sister every week. I'd rather be doing something.”

“Reading and writing are doing something.”

“I know. I just thought I would be doing something different.”

“Don't give up. Say your prayers and wait on Gott's timing.” Susan's expression turned stern. “I noticed you've stopped going to the singings.”

“No point in it.” Unless Tobias Byler decided to go. Would he? Someone who didn't know all about the Lantz sisters and how one of them had abandoned the community. He had been so kind to the children, giving them the apples, taking them home. He was a nice man. And not bad to look at.

Here she stood weaving a future from thin air. From hopes that were no more than rays of sun that dissipated as if clouds deliberately covered her patch of sky. Tobias had seen her as bossy and wayward, not fraa material. She'd seen it in his eyes. If only she could be more like her big sister Deborah. A mother bird who gathered chickadees under her wings as naturally as breathing.

“Go. Boys have a short memory.” Susan touched Rebekah's cheek, something in her face suggesting she, too, experienced cloudy skies on sunny days. “They'll look at you and forget all about what happened with Leila.”

“They haven't yet.”

“You'll make a fine fraa. Patience is a virtue.”

“Is that what you're doing?”

Susan dusted chalk from her fingers. “I am.” Her smile faded. “Every day.”

Rebekah picked up a stack of papers. “Then I guess I'll start grading these papers, Teacher. We can wait together.”

Until she couldn't wait anymore.

Rebekah glanced over her shoulder. What if one of the scholars decided to follow her? The rutted dirt path that cut through knee-high weeds and meandered between stands of mesquite, live oak, and knobby green nopales was empty. A grasshopper skittered across her apron and somersaulted out of sight in the grass. The steamy air smelled of fresh-cut hay and dirt. Sweat trickled from under her kapp
,
tickling her neck. She had no way of knowing how long it had taken her to scurry from the schoolhouse to this secluded spot on a farm road. Any minute Susan would ring the bell and classes would resume for the afternoon.

She felt like a traitor. She was Susan's helper. Susan counted on her. Susan expected her to do the right thing. Rebekah was trying to do the right thing. More thoughts running around in circles. She was doing this for the kinner's sake. They were so sweet and so innocent. Lupe and Diego should be allowed to stay. Rebekah would take care of them herself, if necessary. Susan wanted them to stay too. She would understand.

Mudder and Mordecai would not see it that way. Nor would Jeremiah. It didn't make sense. They didn't understand. They hadn't been talking to Leila about Jesse's work in the church. Jesse
did all kinds of what Leila called outreach. Rebekah didn't exactly know what that meant, but Leila could ask Jesse if he had any ideas about what they could do for Lupe and Diego. The churches were helping the immigrant children through the legal hurdles that awaited them in this land of opportunity. She'd seen articles about it in the
Beeville Times-Picayune
that Mordecai read in the evenings after he finished the
Budget
.

Diego's tear-streaked face filled her mind. What if they decided to call the sheriff from the store phone today after sleeping on the situation? What if the kinner were sent home? El Salvador must be a hard place if a mother sent her children on such a long, scary journey across entire countries alone.

Rebekah pushed the thought away and trudged forward, her sneakers crunching on cockleburs and weeds already dry in the South Texas sun. She would see Leila and Grace for a few minutes. She would ask her questions. It hurt nothing and she could offer Leila the chance to come home.

Leila might be waiting to be offered a chance to return home. God might soften her heart and help Rebekah bring home the prodigal daughter.

The path dead-ended at an equally rutted dirt road, the only difference being its width. The farm road cut across the property now owned by Levi Byler. Daed of Tobias Byler. Tobias was bossy and way too sure of himself. But then, he was a man doing what men were expected to do. Still, something about his green eyes and towering massive body gave her pause. She didn't want to examine why.

Not now. Rebekah cupped her hand against her forehead to block the brilliant midday sun. A plume of dust in the distance told her a car approached. An engine droned, then sputtered.

Leila's note had said she would be in a green Volkswagen. Rebekah wasn't sure what a Volkswagen looked like, but a car was a car. The fact that Leila drove at all astounded her. She edged along the road, waiting, her damp palms clutching at her skirt. Why the meeting now?

Why now, Leila? Why now?

The green car, dusty and bug splattered, pulled alongside her, its engine making a
putt-putt
sound that even Rebekah knew didn't bode well. Leila stuck her head through the open window and waved. “Schweschder! You came.”

Rebekah raised her hand in a quick return salute. Her heart squeezed in a painful hiccup. Leila's face was round, her cheeks chunky, and she'd pulled her wheat-colored hair back in a waist-length ponytail. No prayer kapp for her.

Leila disappeared into the interior again. The car moved to the side of the road and then onto the grassy shoulder just beyond the dirt path, bouncing and jolting over the ruts and rocks. The engine died. The door opened and Leila emerged, her face crinkled in a wide smile. Her long shirt and cotton skirt could not hide an enormous belly. Leila was expecting a baby who would surely arrive during the summer.

Was that what she wanted to tell Rebekah? Nee. She could have written that in a letter. But why hadn't she? She was well on her way to a new baby, not just starting out. Rebekah bit her lip, determined not to ask questions. Why make it easy for Leila? Let her explain. Let her help Rebekah make sense of all this.

“Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes.” She enveloped Rebekah in a soft, warm hug. It seemed churlish not to return it. Despite herself, Rebekah leaned into it and inhaled. Leila smelled of baby wipes. “You're thinner. Have you gotten taller?”

Nee, not taller. Her appetite had waned in the weeks and months after Leila fled their tiny district in order to be with a man who'd chosen to leave the Amish faith. Somehow the weight she lost had never returned. “I'm fine. You look . . . healthy.”

“Chubby, you mean.” Leila's grin widened. She wore an oversized, short-sleeved white blouse untucked and a long beige skirt covered with a tiny lilac-flowered print. It reached her ankles and white sneakers. “I reckon you can guess my secret.”

As if she could miss it. “A blessing indeed.”

“Indeed. I'm due at the end of July, early August.”

More reason she and Jesse should come home. Babies needed family. “Jesse must be happy.”

“He is.”

Children who would have no grandparents in their lives. No aunts and uncles. No cousins. “Surely you'll come home now.”

Leila tugged open the passenger door, still smiling back at Rebekah. “I know what you must think, but our babies will have plenty of family. Our church is our family. Maybe not blood relatives, but people we love who love us.”

Not the same.

“What do you think of the car? Jesse bought it from his friend Colton Wise. He sold it dirt cheap, and he's letting us make payments.”

It sounded as if it were on its last leg. Rebekah had no opinion on cars, only that Plain folks didn't drive them. “I can't believe you drive.”

Couldn't believe that Leila had chosen another way of life.

“I have to drive. I have to get myself to work and this little Bug lets me do it.” Leila made a
tut-tut
sound. “Gracie fell asleep. She's been a cranky bear. She's teething. I take her to the day care
with me, but they let me visit her on my breaks and at lunch, which is nice.”

Another thing Plain women didn't do. Keep working when they were raising their babies. “If you came home, you wouldn't have to work.”

“We are home. In our little duplex in Beeville. And we need the money.” Her matter-of-fact tone held no shame. “Jesse is taking the last of his classes at the community college to get his associate's degree. His jobs at the church as a lay pastor and maintenance man don't pay much. He's still doing carpentry work with Matthew on the side. We make do.”

Rebekah understood about making do. She didn't understand about leaving family and faith to live in a duplex. Still, she couldn't help herself. She inched forward and peeked over her sister's shoulder for a glimpse as Leila undid the straps and lifted the sleeping baby from her car seat. She turned, the little girl nestled in her arms. “She's big.”

Dressed only in a pink onesie that read D
ADDY
'
S
G
IRL
and featured a huge sunflower, Grace displayed the thunder thighs and chunky cheeks of a ten-month-old. Thick brown curls framed her face—Jesse's curls. She had fair skin and rosebud lips that curved in a smile as if she frolicked in a sweet dream. “She's walking now.” Leila held the baby out. “Take her, will you, I'm feeling a little queasy today.”

Rebekah did want to hold her niece. Almost as much as she wanted a baby of her own to hold. That might never happen. Not with Mudder and Mordecai watching her every move—thanks to Leila.

“I need to get back. Why did you want to see me?” She took Grace and held her close, inhaling the sweet scent of
bopli
. Babies
smelled of innocence and hope and the future, a heady aroma she longed to surround herself with every day. “If it's not to tell me you want to come home, what else could you possibly need to tell me that you can't put in a letter?”

Leila shut the door with a clunk, leaned against the car, and patted her shiny face with a pink bandanna. “You are as persistent as a mosquito on a summer night, aren't you?” She sighed. “I am home. Someday you'll understand that. Home is where Jesse is. We are so happy. I wouldn't change a thing.”

“If you're so happy, why are you here?” Bile burned the back of Rebekah's throat. She swallowed and breathed in the warm, humid April air until she could form the next sentence. “Your note said it was important.”

“Change is coming, and I felt like I should tell you about it in person.” Despite her words, Leila's smile faded, replaced with an expression Rebekah couldn't read. “I know it's hard for you to understand, but Jesse believes he has a calling, and everything that's happened since I left tells me he's right. But there's more, more to come. Gott's plan is still unfolding.”

It seemed Leila had forgotten everything she learned growing up about humility and obedience. How could she and Jesse think they knew what Gott's plan was? She sounded so prideful. Rebekah swallowed a retort bitter on her tongue and forced herself to speak softly. “What about you? What about Gott's plan for you?”

“This is it.” Leila waved her hand toward Grace and then patted her belly. “This summer Jesse will finish his degree and Grace will have a brother or sister.” Her smile faltered.

“What is it? There's more, isn't there?”

“I miss you, all of you, so much.” Leila ducked her head and
studied the dust that coated her sneakers. A grasshopper somersaulted over her toes and disappeared into the weeds. “Rory and Tiffany and our other friends are so sweet and kind to us.”

But they weren't family. “Englisch friends aren't the same as family, are they?”

“They're good friends. They help us all they can.” Leila crossed her arms over her swollen belly as if suddenly cold. “But you're right, it's not the same. I miss Mudder and Deborah and I can only imagine how Timothy has grown, and now she and Phineas have a new baby. It hurts my heart—”

“Hurts
your
heart? You didn't see the look on Mudder's face when she realized you were never coming home. You didn't hear her crying at night when she thought everyone was asleep.” Rebekah's voice climbed. Pent-up emotions billowed from her. She stopped, letting the
curr-curr
sound of crickets harmonizing soothe her for a second. “I can't even go into Beeville by myself. I'll never be able to get a job in town. I'm barely allowed to go to the singings.”

For two years, she'd kept these feelings to herself, feeling guilty about her inability to forgive. Rebekah gulped back sobs. “I'm sorry. It's not for me to judge.”

Leila sighed. “But it's only human. I'm so sorry I've made it hard for you.”

“It's just that I'm . . . so . . .”

“Lonely?”

“Jah.”

“Gott has a plan for you. I promise.” Leila squeezed Rebekah's arm. “You'll find your special friend. I know it in my heart.”

She wanted to believe it so she wouldn't have to feel guilty. Reality looked much different from Rebekah's vantage point. No
buggy rides had materialized from the singings. She was nineteen and had no prospects in sight.

As if hearing the tension in their voices, Grace opened her eyes. They were a stunning ocean blue, brilliant against her fair skin. “Ma-ma-ma-ma.” She frowned as she babbled, arms and tiny fists flailing. Rebekah might look familiar, but she wasn't Mama. “Ma-ma-ma.”

Rebekah allowed herself to forget for one brief second the circumstances of this secret visit. She patted the baby's dimpled cheek. “Smart girl, says ‘Mama' first.”

“Really it's just babble most of the time. I don't think she knows what she's saying yet.” Leila's eyes, as blue as her baby's, were bright with tears. “Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you.” Rebekah said the words automatically. Saying it was one thing. Doing it, quite another. “It's just been hard since you left.”

“I had to go.”

“For Jesse?” She would never know that kind of love. “Why did he have to leave?”

“I didn't leave just for Jesse. I left because I needed to worship in a different way.”

The words made no sense. Rebekah stared at the road beyond her sister. Wind rustled the leaves in the trees overhead. Dust rippled and danced in the air. “You can always come home.”

“We're not coming home. We're moving.”

“Moving?”

“Leaving Bee County. For Dallas.”

More words that didn't make sense.

Leila plucked at a loose thread on Gracie's onesie. Her gaze didn't meet Rebekah's. “That's what I came to tell you. Jesse has
applied to college. In Dallas. He wants to get his bachelor's and then go to seminary.”

“Dallas.”

Leila nodded. Tears darkened her blonde eyelashes. “If he gets in, we'll move by the end of summer.”

“How long?”

“Two years to finish the bachelor's. Another two to three for the master's. He'll have to work so it'll take longer.”

Forever.

“But you'll come back after he's done.”

Leila cocked her head, her smile tight, eyes downcast. “It depends.”

“Depends?”

“On where he's appointed to pastor. The church.”

Anywhere, in other words.

The ache in Rebekah's throat made it impossible for her to answer. They would leave Bee County, and any chance she had of seeing them would disappear on the same hard, cold wind that had taken Leila from them on Christmas Eve two years ago.