The Road Home (45 page)

Rachel wished she had never gone with Rebecca and those boys from Leola. She remembered the bitter taste of the whiskey and how it hit her stomach like a kicking mule. The boys had laughed and tried to kiss her. Rebecca had gone along with the game, but Rachel had climbed out of their car and started home. Rebecca had called her a
spielverderber
and stayed with the boys, but Rachel didn't care. She felt awful.
Rumspringa
was definitely not what everyone made it out to be. Her stomach gave a lurch, and Rachel stumbled off the road and into the bushes to relieve herself of the unwanted substance in her belly.

When she finished, Rachel wiped her lips with the sleeve of her dress. Her mouth had an awful, bitter taste, and her
kappe
was askew. She knew she looked a mess. What would Papa say? She felt so ashamed. In this sad state she wandered disconsolately home in the middle of the narrow road.

The car was upon her before she could even react. The horn blared, and she could hear the tires screeching. She looked around in shock as the car came straight at her. Then the front of the car swerved to the right and then back to the left as it went around her, and then it went into a slide. The rear end swung around, and the car went off the road backward into a thicket of bushes. Rachel stood enveloped in a cloud of dust in the middle of the road. She heard the door open, and an angry voice yelled through the dust.

“What are you doing in the middle of the road? Are you trying to get killed?”

Rachel felt her temper rise. “Well, if you didn't drive like a
wahnsinniger
down such a narrow lane, perhaps you could have seen me in time!”

A figure appeared out of the dust cloud. The voice belonged to a very tall young man with flaming red hair. He was wearing white linen slacks, a white shirt, and a pullover sleeveless sweater with a big letter
P
on it. His shirt was open at the collar, and his loose clothing didn't hide his athletic build and broad shoulders. The man was about to shout something else when he saw Rachel. He stopped and stared at her, and then his face changed, and he laughed out loud.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“What if I am?” Rachel retorted, her words a bit slurred.

“But you're, you're…”

“What? You don't think the Amish drink? And besides if I am, it is
wonnernaus
.”

“What does that mean?” the young man asked.

“None of your business,” Rachel replied.

“Well, I'm just asking,” the young man said.

“No, none of your business is what
wonnernaus
means,” Rachel replied.

Suddenly Rachel realized how she must look. There she was, the prim and proper Miss Rachel Borntraeger, standing in the road,
kappe
half off her head, face flushed,
kutz
on her chin, and shouting at this
Englischer
. It struck her as extremely funny, and she began to laugh. The young man looked at her in amazement, and then he began to laugh too. Finally the young man pulled himself together and reached out his hand.

“You're right,” he said. “I was going too fast. I just got this car, and we were taking her for a test run. I got a little carried away. I hope you will forgive me for almost killing you. My name is Robert St. Clair.”

Rachel looked at his face distrustfully, but she could see that he was genuine in his apology, so she reached out her hand to introduce herself. Something strange happened, though, when his hand closed around hers. A little shock ran up her arm, and a hot flush rose into her cheeks. She stared at him without saying anything. He was extremely handsome, with strong, regular features and a cleft in his chin. His hair was bright red and combed straight back. He was at least six inches taller than her, and his eyes were the most intense blue she had ever seen. She felt herself being drawn into them, and she stood silent as he stared at her too.

Rachel was a beautiful girl, even in her present state. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun under her
kappe
, but it framed her lovely face and her deep violet eyes and set off her pale skin. Her plain clothing
only made the loveliness of her features more evident, and Robert was speechless for a moment. Finally he found some words.

“And your name?”

“I'm Rachel Borntraeger. I live in Lancaster. My father is the bishop of the Amish church, and I am…”

Rachel stopped. She was talking too much, but for some reason she wanted to tell this man everything about herself. Their reverie was broken by a shrill voice from the car.

“Robert, are you going to stand out there all night, or are we going to get this car out of the ditch and get going? We'll be late to the country club.”

Robert released her hand, and the electricity stopped. He turned his head and looked over at the car, and then he looked back at Rachel and smiled sheepishly.

“That's Julianne. She's my date tonight. We're going to a dance at the country club. Benny Goodman is playing.” He paused. “But I wish you were my date instead.”

Rachel blushed but managed to say, “
Ja
, well. You should get going to the dance then.”

“Will I see you again?” Robert asked.

Without even thinking Rachel spoke. “I work at King's Mercantile store on Fridays and Saturdays.”

Then she turned and headed home. Robert stared after her and then slowly turned toward the car.

“Robert!” came the shrill voice. “Let's go!”

Robert turned back and watched Rachel as she walked away up the road. Then he shrugged and walked toward the car.

March 26, 1946. Today I saw Robert again. I was working at the store and then he was there…

Rachel had seen Robert again the next Friday after the incident on the road. She was working in the back of King's Mercantile, stacking
bolts of cloth on the shelves, when suddenly she felt someone standing behind her. She had turned and he was standing there, staring at her. She suddenly felt hot and weak, as if she could faint. She reached out and took hold of the post that held up the shelf full of cloth. She stared back at him.

“I've been thinking about you,” Robert said simply and quietly.

Rachel flushed again. That strange feeling came over her that she had experienced on the road. She wanted to tell him everything. She tried to hold her tongue, but she couldn't.

“And I, you,” she answered slowly.

She felt as though she had just handed a complete stranger the key to something she had locked away for safekeeping all her life.

“Can I see you after you finish here?” he asked.

She hesitated, but just for a moment. Then she surrendered. “Yes, but you must meet me where no one will see us. My father is the bishop, and it would bring great shame to him if—”

“If he knew you had gone outside your religion?” Robert asked.

“Yes,” she said with a shrug.

“My apartment is about eight blocks from here. Will you come there?” He pressed a slip of paper into her hand.

She nodded without speaking, and he turned and walked out of the store.

I opened the paper and read the address. Then I went back to my work. I don't know what is happening to me except that my heart is his and his is mine. I can see it in his eyes, I hear it in his voice, and I feel it in his touch. I will go to him today and whatever happens, I will be his
.

Jenny set the pages down. Her mother had loved her father, and he had loved her. It was enough.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-N
INE

The Road Home

May 26, 1946. Today is the saddest day of my life. My papa found out I'm pregnant with Robert's child. Papa is so proud, and I have hurt him so deeply. I have never seen him so angry. He did not say a word to me but gathered my things…

“Papa! Please! Papaaa!”

Rachel beat her fists on the door of her home. The door was shut, and she had heard her
daed
lock it and slide the wooden bar into place after he pushed her out. The shades over the windows were drawn, and the house was dark. The unseasonably warm sun beat down on her back as she knelt on the porch, pounding futilely on the wood. She knew her papa and mama were standing on the other side of the door, just inches away, but they didn't say a word.

“Please, Papa! I'm sorry. Don't do this! I need your help.”

Her papa answered her from behind the door. “You can keep the child but you must give the
Englischer
up and never see him again.”

“I can't do that Papa, I love him.” She sank down in a heap on the porch and wept, great sobs torn out of her gut as if by the talons of evil birds. Her clothes and personal belongings lay scattered on the porch and out in the yard behind her. As she lay there, she heard a car pull in
the driveway. A car door opened, and then she heard footsteps coming quickly up the gravel path.

“Rachel! What is it?” It was Robert. He knelt down beside her and drew her into his arms. “What has happened?”

“Papa…Papa has…put me out of his home.”

Robert stood up and knocked on the door. “Bishop Borntraeger, it's Robert St. Clair,” he said. “I would like to speak to you.”

A grim voice answered from the other side of the door. “Take the girl and go. She is yours now. She is dead to me. I'll speak no more of this matter.”

I heard Papa's footsteps going away from the door, and then there was silence. Robert knocked again and again, but the house was quiet and still, like a tomb
.

Jenny put the page down. Her hands were trembling, and she looked at Reuben. “My poor mother,” she said. “She must have been heartbroken.”

“It is hard being an Amish father and a bishop,” Reuben said. “Unless he had
ein herz aus stein
, I'm sure it was a difficult time for her papa also.”

Jenny started to reply, and then it came to her. Her papa had feelings too! She thought back to all the times she had clashed with Reuben over the years, and it occurred to her that Reuben had always done everything with her best interests in mind. Even though she might not have liked his decisions, they had always been made out of love. The revelation was like a bright ray of sunshine on a stormy day. Instead of snapping at him, she took his hand.