Rebecca's Promise (34 page)

Leona glanced up at him, her face still dark, but meeting his eyes now. Uncomfortable, Rebecca looked away, took a helping of meat loaf, and passed it on. When she turned back, Leona was eating. Her face still held a trace of melancholy but was more peaceful than Rebecca had seen all day.

“So what’s the news from school?” Stephen asked, the comforting sound of the gas lantern hissing on the ceiling above them.

“I got a 97 on spelling,” Lois announced.

“I did too,” Stephen Jr., the first grader, proclaimed.

“You sure about that?” Stephen was skeptical of his son’s recollection of things. He glanced at Lois for confirmation.

“I did,” Stephen Jr. insisted. “It was a good grade.”

Lois shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t see his grade. First-grade spelling is a little easier than the hard words we have to do.”

“Teacher almost broke her arm at lunch playing ball,” Thomas announced, injecting fresh news into the conversation.

“She just fell,” Elmo corrected him. “It wasn’t broken.”

“I heard her say it hurt like it was broken. I heard her say so.” Thomas made a valiant effort to convince the family of his version of the events.

“That’s not the same as broken,” Stephen corrected him.

He gave in to the force of his father’s eyes on him and turned back to his plate.

“You’d better be careful about such things,” Stephen said, not willing to drop the topic yet. “We have to tell the truth. Always. Even when it might sound better to tell more than what really happened.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Thomas protested, his pleasure in the meat loaf on his plate temporarily suspended.

“Maybe not,” Stephen allowed. He watched Thomas sigh in relief and resume eating. And then he continued, “Stretching a story or adding to it can be just as bad.”

Thomas rapidly nodded, wanting to demonstrate his absorption of the lesson. He stopped long enough to add corn to his mouth full of meat loaf. Picking up the buttered bun beside his plate, he bit into it.

“We are having a math contest next week,” Elmo said, not too much delight in his voice. “Each grade against itself.”

“You don’t sound too excited,” Leona said. “You’re usually pretty good at that.”

“He’s studying hard,” Lois said to the others. “I see him with his nose in his math book. I think he wants to win this time.”

“Really.” Leona smiled at her oldest. “What’s the prize?”

“We don’t know yet,” Verna announced. “Teacher isn’t telling.”

“Last year it was a real nice tablet with drawing pencils. The first grade got little bags of candy,” Thomas volunteered. “It’s usually different each year.”

“So what’s your weak point?” Leona asked Elmo. “Still long addition?”

Elmo nodded despairingly. “That and the story problems. We just have two minutes to solve each one.”

“That’s all you get,” Thomas added. “When the time is up, you have to stop even if you’re not done.”

“That’s Martha’s idea,” Lois said. “Last year we had three minutes.”

“She’s from Daviess County,” Elmo muttered. “There’s strange ideas coming from down there.”

“Now, now,” Stephen spoke up, “they’re no different from us.”

“Sometimes they are,” Elmo insisted. Then glancing at his father’s face, he added, “She just has different ideas, I guess.”

“That’s good sometimes,” Stephen told him. “We can learn from each other.”

“I suppose so.” Elmo must have thought it better to agree but couldn’t help himself. “Two minutes is mighty short. Especially when you’re trying to think fast.”

“Maybe if you’d just relax, your mind would work better,” Leona suggested.

“Then it stops completely,” Elmo declared, sounding horrified. “I have to push it.”

“You should try that.” Stephen seconded Leona’s suggestion. “Might surprise you.”

“Is that true, Rebecca?” Elmo turned in her direction, his face skeptical.

“It does work,” Rebecca said, thankful she didn’t disagree with Stephen and Leona. “You don’t
stop
thinking. You just relax a little beforehand and then let your mind work on the problem.”

“Did you ever win any math quizzes?” Elmo still wasn’t convinced.

“I’m afraid not,” Rebecca lamented. “Wasn’t too good at math. Emma tried to teach me, but…well, I guess I did okay.”

“I
like
math,” Elmo stated firmly. “Maybe if this relaxing thing works, I might win. You think it works on long addition too?”

“I suppose so,” Rebecca allowed. “Being tense doesn’t work well on anything.”

“Worry doesn’t either,” Leona said for everyone’s benefit. After a few moments of eating, she added, “If we’re just about done, it’s time for the cake.”

Rebecca wasn’t paying attention. Instead, she was thinking about
what she had said about being tense, wondering if it could have anything to do with her problems. She had sure been tense about Atlee. John too. She shoved the thoughts away, turning to listen to Leona.

Instead, it was Stephen who was speaking, “I have a surprise,” he said. “I didn’t know about the cake in the oven. I just took the chance.” A happy grin spread all over his face. “Even your mother doesn’t know about it.”

There was silence as they waited, but he seemed to be teasing them.

“Okay,” Leona said, after a few moments had passed, “let’s hear it.”

“Ice cream!” he said, his grin getting even bigger. “Schwan’s. The truck stopped nearby where we were working…and just at quitting time.”

A chorus of smiles around the table greeted his announcement.

“But,” Leona replied, not joining in the fun, “where is it? It must be melting.”

“Safe in my cooler,” Stephen said, “on ice.”

“But that won’t keep it forever,” she insisted. “You have to bring it inside.”

“Who wants to go out and get it?” Stephen asked, to which Lois answered by getting up.

“It’s in the backseat of the buggy,” he told her. “Colder outside too.”

Leona looked at Stephen and said, “I guess I didn’t notice you didn’t bring your lunch things in. You are a sneaker.”

“Not always,” he said, as their eyes met again. Something wonderful seemed to pass between them, causing Rebecca to turned away lest she be embarrassed.

Stephen was doing Leona a lot of good tonight, that was for sure. Perhaps men were good for something besides trouble. Trouble and broken promises. Emma might not have a man to cheer her up, but neither did she have a man to bring her down.

With that conclusion, she got up to get bowls for the ice cream.

“The spoon is in the third drawer,” Leona said. “There’s also a small scoop there.”

When Lois returned with the cooler, the content was carefully removed and transferred to the bowls. Once all were served, the household fell silent except for the sound of softly clicking spoons.

“It’s good,” Leona said for all of them.

“Butter pecan—the best,” Elmo said. “Better even than homemade.”

“Not better than Fannie’s ice cream,” Verna protested. The comment set the two boys thinking.

When they didn’t answer, Verna prodded them, “You agree, don’t you?”

Neither boy said anything, both taking another sample of ice cream, making a show of tasting it slowly, and sliding their spoons back out of their mouths.

“Nope,” they said in unison. “This tastes better.”

“Than Fannie’s?” Verna looked incredulously at her brothers.

“Well,” Elmo answered, “Fannie’s—and Mom’s too—is good. Maybe not quite…but almost. Mom makes a good strawberry, but this is…” he searched for the right words and then added, “so store-bought and rich and creamy.”

“They’re
both
good,” Stephen declared. “Schwan’s is different than homemade. You’d get tired of this too, if you had it as much as you have homemade ice cream.”

“I like it because you don’t have to turn it with a crank,” Stephen Jr. said.

“You never do anyway,” Thomas reminded him. “I do most of the turning.”

“He does help.” Leona came to the six-year-old’s defense. “He makes a few turns every now and then.”

“I’ll do more when I get bigger,” Stephen Jr. volunteered. “I’ll turn all of it.”

“All in good time. You are growing fast enough already,” Leona said.

“Will Jonathon grow up fast?” Stephen Jr. wanted to know, as the newest member of the family made himself known with a wail from the living room.

“He will too,” Leona assured him, getting up to tend to the baby.

“Let’s pray first,” Stephen said, stopping her.

“But the baby,” she was already half out of her chair.

“Okay,” he said, “get him. Then he can pray with us.”

Rising and moving quickly, Leona was back in moments with Jonathon. He peeked out over his mother’s arms, his eyes unblinking and staring at their faces as Stephen led out in prayer again.

T
he next several days passed in a blur of meals, wash, and children going to and returning from school. Rebecca was too busy to leave the house. Leona, after another visit to the doctor, was assured that she was recovering quickly enough. By Wednesday morning, she appeared in the kitchen and was determined to help.

“I’m doing okay,” Rebecca assured her, flipping the eggs in the pan on the gas range.

“But you’re leaving the day after tomorrow. I have to get going somehow.”

“Just don’t overdo it.”

“I won’t. Jonathon isn’t too fussy during the night. I’m getting my sleep. I’m so thankful for that.”

Rebecca took the plate of eggs and set them on the kitchen table. Stephen was coming down the hall, the sound of his footsteps getting louder. This morning she had biscuits and gravy ready for him—her first time preparing them without her mother around.

Leona noticed. “So you tried biscuits and gravy?”

“Yes. I hope they’re good.”

“I’m sure they are. I think I’ll sit down and have breakfast with Stephen. Why don’t you join us?”

“The children are getting up in a few minutes. I don’t have their eggs made.”

“They can wait. It won’t take that long. Sit down and eat.”

Wearily, Rebecca took the chair beside Leona, after making sure all the food was within reach.

After they had prayed, Leona brought up the subject Rebecca had thought would never come up on its own. “Is there anything you’d like to do before you leave? You’ve been cooped up here for days.”

Seeing her chance, Rebecca said, “I’d love to stop by and see Emma. I saw her in church the first Sunday I was here, but that’s not like talking to her alone.”

Leona fully agreed and quickly replied, “Certainly. You should do that. There’s really no reason not to. I’m coming along just fine. How about tomorrow? You can take the horse and buggy over by yourself.”

“Really?” Rebecca said, trying not to sound too eager.

“Absolutely. Plan on that for tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to tell me where she lives now. I can’t remember exactly.”

“It’s easy enough,” Leona assured her. “It’s just on the other side of Milroy.”