A choir of hungry boys congregated around the breakfast table as Rebekah came in from milking Butter. The sun had barely begun to peek over the easternmost horizon, but little tummies were already a-rumble in the Stoll household.
“Have you seen Mama?”
“I haven’t seen Mama, have you seen her?”
“I’m hungry. My stomach’s growling.”
“I thought I smelled flapjacks this morning.”
“Someone made flapjacks? Where are they?”
“Who made flapjacks?”
“Can you make us flapjacks, sister?”
Rebekah fielded the flying questions as she set the bucket of fresh milk on the table.
“I’ll get the dipper,” Jeremiah offered with a gap-toothed grin.
“Happy for a break from the chaotic questioning?”
Jeremiah exhaled a breath he had probably held for quite a while.
Ma must be sleeping late. She always gets tired late in her pregnancies.
Rebekah picked her way through the throng of boys until she reached the kitchen. She passed Jeremiah on his way back in. “I believe flapjacks are the popular choice for breakfast.”
“Yep,” he agreed. “Today and every day.”
Rebekah located the deep wooden mixing bowl, sifter, and measuring spoons. As she gathered the cooking instruments, she began to sing the rhyme Elnora taught her for remembering the ingredients, so long ago.
Into the sifter dry things go,
To make our flapjacks, ho ho ho.
To four cups of flour sifted fine,
Add four teaspoons baking powder—one at a time.
A whole cup of sugar and two teaspoons salt,
Brings this part
To.
A.
Halt.
She sat the dry mixture aside and wiped up the sprinkling of powder from the countertop. Grabbing the wooden bowl, she continued the rhyme.
Ask your hen for a pair of eggs,
Beat it well with a peg.
Then two cups of milk from the cow.
“Jeremiah,” Rebekah called. “Can you bring me the bucket of milk from the table, please?”
A moment later, he appeared with the half-full bucket of fresh milk.
Her eyes widened. “The boys are thirsty this morning, I reckon?”
Jeremiah turned and dashed from the room as though he had somewhere extremely important to be. “Well, it’s mostly me, sissy!”
Rebekah shook her head. She added the two cups of milk before continuing the rhyme.
Get your dry mix, add it now.
A half-a cup of shortening, melted thin,
Drizzle it:
In.
In.
In.
While the flapjacks sizzled on the griddle, Rebekah placed the skillet on the woodstove. In it, she placed several thick slices of salt pork.
The boys will like this meal. I will take a plate up to Ma, too.
***
When Rebekah emerged from the kitchen with the steaming food in hand, she discovered six quivering boys, with forks and knives at the ready, staring at her expectantly. A smile tilted her mouth ever-so-slightly. “Thanks for setting the table, Jeremiah.”
Almost as soon as she’d placed the food on their plates, it was inhaled.
After her multitude of brothers were served, Rebekah retrieved the tray she’d wisely reserved for her and Elnora and took to the stairs.
After a light knock on the door with her elbow, she heard her mother’s weak voice. “Come in.”
“Ma, are you all right?” Rebekah tried to keep the worried tone from coloring her words. She placed the tray of flapjacks, salt pork, and buttermilk on the wooden nightstand Pa carved for her ma as a wedding present. In the sole drawer, crude block letters spelled out Samuel and Elnora Stoll 1864. The year they married.
“Thank you, Rebekah. I am a lucky woman to have such a sweet daughter.” Elnora’s voice strained as she tried to push herself up in the bed.
“But are you all right.” Rebekah eased down on the bed to avoid any jostling her mother unnecessarily. She didn’t ask the question so much as stated it as if that would assure its truth. “Right? Ma?”
Her mother’s lips thinned as she reached for the cup of buttermilk.
Oh no. Her fingers are trembling.
“Here, Ma, I’ll get it.” Worry creased her brow as she passed the frothy liquid to her.
Elnora took a big sip. “I’m fine. The baby is acting like it wants to come.” She lay back onto the pillows. “You may be a big sister again before too long.”
As much as she loved babies, especially new ones, Rebekah couldn’t feign happiness. Instead, a peppering of questions flew off her tongue. “How do you know the baby is coming? Are you in pain? Is something wrong?”
She flung the words at her mother in much the same manner that Jeremiah flung dirt clods at their little brothers during one of their many “you-can’t-hit-me-with-that-dirt-clod-ouch-maybe-you-can” games.
“I began feeling pain early this morning.”
Rebekah’s eyes widened. Before she could open her mouth, Elnora continued. “Then the bleeding started.”
“Oh, Ma, I should fetch Heloise.” Rebekah rose from the bed. Her mind was already way ahead of her body.
“No, child.” Elnora tried to make her voice firm. It didn’t work.
“Why not?”
“We mustn’t bother her yet. The pains have stopped and to make the baby come, they must be regular. And hard.” It appeared that merely speaking of the process that would bring a baby sapped the very life from her mother. Rebekah patted her pale hand.
“Just tell me what you need, Ma. I’ll do it.”
Elnora’s closed her eyes. “I know you will, Rebekah. Thank you.” Her words trailed off in a yawn.
“Rebekah!” a shrill voice shrieked from downstairs. “Help!”
“Ma, I’ll be back.” She rushed downstairs.
The voice shrilled through the house again. “Rebek-ahhhhhhhh!”
“Oh, my.” Rebekah froze at the bottom of the stairs and gaped in horror at the scene before her. Her barefoot, school-aged brothers stood huddled in the corner of the common room at the mercy of Tom the Rooster.
“How did he get in here?” She eyed the notorious rooster as she edged along the far wall. “Where’s Jeremiah?”
“We dunno.”
The mass of smallish hats and suspenders appeared to quake as Tom dropped his wing and started in their direction. “Rebekah!”
She slipped her apron off. “Hush now.”
Cautiously, she slid along the wall like a snake through the grass. “Boys, when I say go, I want you all to holler out as loud as you can. Understand?”
Some nodded. Others had their eyes scrunched shut.
Rebekah advanced on the white and silver rooster who, until then, paid her no mind. Then, with a threatening squawk, Tom charged her.
“Now, boys!”
Nobody made a sound.
“I mean go!”
All six brothers let out a cacophonous roar. Thankfully, Tom stopped short and turned to face the din, his silly head cocked to one side.
“A-ha.” Rebekah flung the apron over his scarlet-combed head. She fell to her knees and scooped the whole feathery conglomeration into her arms.
“I’ll hold him, boys. You get on to school. Hurry.”
The six youngest Stolls scrambled over one another as each tried to be the first out the door and far from the cranky rooster’s territory.
“Thanks, sissy!” Thomas, the youngest, called as the lot of them dashed down the road.
“You’re welcome!” Rebekah yelled and held the hooded fowl tightly. “Now to turn you out near the barn.”
She hurried to the dirt patch outside. Breathless, she gave the rooster-apron package a fling before skipping backward, safely out of the range of angry rooster claws.
A little breathless, she stopped beside a bush and watched as Tom stamped angrily about. His beady eyes glistened as though he knew someone had bested him.
“Gotta get up early in the morning to get one over on me, you silly bird.”
The old rooster pointed his beak skyward and let out a disgruntled cock-a-doodle-doooooooo.
She covered her mouth and laughed until tears streamed down her face and her sides ached. She doubled over and gasped in a failed attempt to catch her breath.
Rebekah regained her composure as images of Joseph flashed in her mind “Thank goodness nobody, especially Joseph, was here to see that.”
No sooner had the strangled words escaped her lips than Tom strutted back into her vision. He looked embarrassed and a sad coo roiled in his throat. Without warning, her giggles were loosed again.
Rebekah sank into a squat and dropped her head into her hands. Instead of attempting to be ladylike, she welcomed the hilarity that overtook her.
“He’s a queer animal, but he doesn’t seem to enjoy your amusement at his situation.”
Rebekah turned her soggy, aching face upward.
Joseph’s silhouette stood illuminated against the mid-morning sun. His face wore a dimpled grin as he extended a hand to her.
She accepted it and stood up. “At his situation?”
He arched his black eyebrows and nodded toward the cocky rooster. As the fowl stalked around, the apron strings managed to get caught between his claws. The white fabric trailed behind him like a bad decision. When Rebekah looked at him, he made a little jump, faced the fabric, and called out an irritated bock-ca.
The sight was too much. With her hands on her knees, Rebekah gave in to another laughing fit. After a moment, Joseph joined in.
When the mood passed and the throbbing in her sides had gone, she wiped the sweat and tears from her face with the burgundy sleeve of her dusty dress.
“Here, you have a smear.” He wiped his thumb across her cheek and left a sizzle in its wake.
Rebekah stood, frozen.
I could live off this moment forever.
Joseph bent to pick a blade of grass.
She blew out the breath she’d been holding in a huff. “Now that’s taken care of, time to get busy,” she muttered.
“What do we do first?” A freshly-plucked sprig jutted out of his mouth as he waited.
“We?” Rebekah tried to hide the incredulous tone to her words. “I don’t know about we, but I have to clean a rooster mess out of the sitting room before starting on lunch and dinner. Then there’s laundry, and tending the calf, and—”
Joseph held up his hands in defeat.
She gave him a smug glance and whirled to enter the house.
I hope he follows me.
“I’ll get your apron from Tom.”
Rebekah stood on the steps and leaned against the banister. “This I must see.”
Mirroring her smug glance, Joseph turned and started toward the feisty rooster.
Tom stood still and clucked soft clucks. Gently, Joseph picked him up and disentangled his feet from the strings.
Rebekah’s mouth hung open freely.
Joseph strode toward her, apron extended. “Catchin’ flies?”
She accepted it, her mouth still agape.
“How did you—” she began. “No, why didn’t the old rooster—”
“If you want to catch a rooster, think like a rooster.” Joseph tapped his head.
Rebekah sighed.
He tucked his thumbs under his arms and flapped his makeshift wings. “Bock-ca.”
She fought back a smile and shook her head. “Oh, before I forget, when you go home, would you mind asking your ma to stop by when she can? It seems Ma’s labor is trying to start.”
“When I go home? Who said I was leaving?”
Joseph’s stark words gave her pause. She stared into his eyes, which were the same hue as the early spring sky.
Is he joking?
The same gentle smoldering flamed to life in her chest about the time the familiar tingles sparked deep in her stomach.
***
“Now that the mess is cleaned up, how about some lunch?”
Rebekah brushed her hands on her dress. “Okay, what would you like me to make us?”
Joseph followed her into the kitchen. He reached to the bent nail beside the doorframe and plucked a fresh apron free. After donning it expertly, he held his arms out for her approval. “How does it look?”
Close your mouth, Rebekah, before you really do catch a fly.
“Um, yes. You…um, well, Joseph, you look…you look…handsome.”
Handsome in an apron? Rebekah, sheesh!
He retrieved a skillet from under the dry sink. “Well, I meant do I look ready to make lunch. But handsome works, too.”
“You’re really making lunch. Here? In my house?”
“Yes, I am. Now go check on your ma.” With his order delivered, Joseph turned his full attention to the woodstove.
Rebekah crept up the stairs and took extra care to avoid the squeaky one.
Ma should be resting. I don’t want to be the one to wake her up.
She eased the door open. There, on the bedside table, was Elnora’s tray of untouched breakfast. Rebekah tiptoed across the floor and peered over the bed. Strong and steady breathing came from the nest of handmade quilts that covered the woman she loved most in all the world.
Her pounding heart slowed to a dull thud. “You rest, Ma.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I love you so.”
With Elnora’s breakfast tray in hand, Rebekah returned to the kitchen. Joseph kneaded something furiously in her wooden bread bowl when she entered.
She slid the tray onto the countertop. “Can I help?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “No, think I’ve got it.”
Rebekah opened her mouth to speak but squeaked instead. Joseph’s face was smudged with smears of flour and lard.
Her eyes watered as the same sense of hilarity as that of the rooster incident returned. She bit her lip, but the more she tried to hold her laughter in, the funnier the entire scene became. With an unladylike snort, Rebekah gave in to the throes of a laughing jag once again.
Joseph turned to face her. “What’s so funny?”
Sure enough, his entire front, from his forehead to his chest, was spotted with floury globs.
Rebekah held her middle and leaned against the wall. Tears streaked her face and she was powerless to stop laughing.
He touched his face and examined his fingers. With a slow grin, he advanced toward her.
“Oh no you don’t, Joseph Graber.” Rebekah stepped backward along the wall, but a chair stood between her and the kitchen door. Her sides ached, and her cheeks hurt from smiling. She backed into a corner, completely at his mercy.
“Miss Stoll, you need a smidge here…” He tweaked the end of her nose with one buttery finger. “And a touch there.” Joseph dabbed her chin with his other floury hand.
Rebekah flailed her arms and protested through the giggles. The absurdity of the moment made the entire scene even more enjoyable. Joseph’s deep, throaty laughs harmonized with hers as they failed to make a delicious lunch.
After a moment, the laughter fizzled away and left a comfortable silence in its stead.
She gazed at his doughy face. Suddenly, he stiffened. “My cinnamon rolls!”
Rebekah watched as he donned Elnora’s pot-holders and pulled the delectable pastries from the oven.
How good they will taste after dinner. Rebekah licked her lips. But then again, anything cinnamon tastes good any time.
“Joseph Graber, you’re a cook? After all these years, I should have known that by now.” She dabbed her face with a hanky and feigned annoyance. “What am I going to do with you?”
He slid the hanky from her hand and stepped closer. Ever slow, he removed a blotch of flour from below her right eye. He continued to dab long after the flour was gone. “What are you going to do with me, Miss Stoll?”
The vulnerable feeling was back, heavy and hard, in the pit of her stomach. Rebekah gulped. It sounded awfully loud in the sudden quiet.
“Um…”
“Say you’ll attend the Spring Festival this weekend.”
Phew.
“Of course we’re attending.” The words tumbled forth much too quickly. “Our families always—”
“Sshh.”
Rebekah shut her mouth and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Say you’ll attend the Spring Festival,” Joseph repeated, “with me as your escort.”