Five

The rain increased quickly from a sound of spattering on canvas to a mighty roar that drowned out every other sound. She tried to whistle a tune for diversion and could not hear it for the pounding rain and bellowing thunder. Thunder spoke at long intervals, then closer and closer together in angrier and angrier bursts. Lightning illuminated the wagon’s interior in heart-stopping whiteness, bleaching the ribbed canvas till it looked like Mother’s best linens stretched overhead, then left it darker than before. The air smelled like a struck match in her own room at Thornapple.

She swiped at tears—furtively—as if someone, Aden in particular, might be observing. As the storm became even louder, she tried to distance it by putting a rough wool blanket over her head. The warmth was comforting, and finally she felt herself drifting into sleep in spite of everything. What you couldn’t help you just accepted. “Do the best you can and move on,” Father always said. Move on—move on—move on. She was plowing a straight row, aiming for a tall pine she could sight right between the ears of Father’s slow and steady mule Tilley. Suddenly the tree burst into scorching, licking flames that filled her vision. She sat up, breathing hard and clutching her blanket as if she had a death grip on Tilley’s plow lines.

Water ran, not in a stream, not in little rivulets, but like a creek splashing under the very wagon. Under the wagon? Aden! He’d be drowned under there! She couldn’t let him spend one more minute in this flood.

“Aden!” No sound but the roar of running water. “Aden!” She scrambled toward the opening. The opening wasn’t there! In smothering darkness she scrambled to find the heavy curtain flap. There! But beyond the curtain was something else—the tarp? Aden hadn’t been sleeping on the tarp; he’d put it over the end of the wagon to protect her! And where was he now?

Suddenly he answered from only inches away, thrusting his head through the wagon flap. “Rebekah! What’s wrong?”

“You can’t stay out there!” she shouted and then felt his wet hand giving her shoulder a reassuring shake.

“It’s okay,” he said near her ear, water splashing against her face from his clothes.

“You can’t stay out there!” she tried again. “You–you’ll drown!”

“I won’t drown,” he said, but he climbed in anyway. “No need for us both to get wet while we argue. That tarp’s not doing a lot of good.”

He smelled of wet wool, and the wagon shook as he scrambled in. She crawled back to her own space and hid under her blanket. She thought she should tell him not to sit around wet and catch pneumonia, was working up her nerve, when she became aware that the wagon’s continued bouncing must be a result of his struggling into dry things. When she thought he was done, she crawled toward him with an extra blanket. She could only sense his bulk where he sat near the flap.

“Here!” she said, fumbling as she tried to lay the blanket around his shoulders. He didn’t respond and seemed to be asleep. She tightened the blanket around him so it would stay put. As she drew back, he suddenly reached out and grasped her hand hard. She was so startled, she forgot to resist. His hand was surprisingly warm for someone who’d been out in a flood. She didn’t realize what he was up to until it was too late. In a swift motion, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, his stubbly beard grazing her fingers. She jerked her hand away as if she’d been scalded.

“How dare you?” she screamed.

How could he! How could he? Her heart beat so hard, he probably could hear it even with thunder rumbling like a hungry lion seeking its prey. She pressed her knuckles against her eyes and swallowed hard. She’d simply sit up all night. No matter how religious the man was, he was still a man. She couldn’t trust him.

In the early morning half-light Rebekah opened her eyes. A rough edge of her dry wool blanket tickled her cheek. She wiggled her toes as she carefully uncurled herself from a tight knot. What day was it? Where was she? A steady patter of raindrops beat against the canvas top. She sat up in sudden dismay. Aden was right here in the wagon with her. There he sat Indian style, his back to her, his head sunk into his chest. Was he asleep like that?

“It’s all right, Rebekah,” he said as if he’d heard her very thoughts. “You were kind of snoring so I knew you were asleep. I tossed the extra blanket over you—haphazard-like, you know. I was afraid you were cold.”

“What—are you doing? How can you sleep sitting up like that?”

“Oh. It’s not really hard. I’m used to it. Besides—”

“What?” she asked.

“I wasn’t sleeping all the time. I was praying.”

“It was that bad?”

“No, no!” He laughed and turned toward her. His teeth shone white in the dusky interior. “Just a good time to pray. Boy! What a show God put on last night! Like a million stars came down to explode in visitation! Hey, hey! Everything’s fine, Rebekah. Don’t look so—nervous! Storm’s over now. I’ve already been out checking on the horses. They didn’t break tether, and neither of them got struck by lightning. We’re in good shape, I’d say.”

“We need shelter for them, don’t we? Is there—it feels as if we’re pretty steady. I mean—I wouldn’t have been surprised if we’d floated away.”

“Neither would I. You probably would have floated away if you hadn’t been kind enough to invite me in. My added weight kept the wagon stationary.” He grinned impishly.

“That’s the only reason I invited you in, of course,” she answered, trying hard not to blush and not being sure whether or not she succeeded. “You could check with Mr. Sharp and see if he has room for your horses in his barn.”

“Right. I’ll do that. Immediately following breakfast.”

“Breakfast? In this rain?”

“Certainly, Madam! Can’t afford to starve, you know! Rabbit broth coming right up,” he said, sliding out backward, then slipping under the added tarp. “Whooee! What cold rain! Say, that broth is probably watered down perfectly about now—as I will be!”

How in the world would he make a fire in the rain? Maybe the man who’d figured out how to make that piece of added canvas stay put in such a wind could also devise a way to serve warm broth. But he didn’t. He made no excuses. Some things were really impossible. He brought her broth so cold it left tallow sticking to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t take a second swallow, but he downed his as well as hers and gave her a wide grin. “Delicious!” he declared cheerfully. He was standing on the ground with only his head and shoulders thrust inward through the wagon’s tail flap. Setting his cup down to rake water out of his eyes, he then said, “I guess you’re right. I’d best go up to the Sharps and see if I can borrow some stall space. Looks as if the rain’s settling in to be a long one.”

She nodded. Then in answer to his questioning look, she said, “I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid of rain.”

She listened to him slog off and finally drew a long, deep breath when she could hear nothing but the pelt of raindrops. Now she could figure out how to perform her morning rituals in this downpour.

Aden returned an hour later with a merry shout as he entered the campsite. “Yo, Rebekah! Good news! Room for the horses and for you!”

“For me! In the barn?”

“No, no! In the house!” He was again leaning into the opening under protection of his added tarpaulin. Water streamed from his soaked hair down his cheeks and dripped off his chin and nose. He considered her gravely. “You don’t have to be concerned about—well, protocol, or—you know, questions. I simply explained that my wife is new at this camping-out business and doesn’t need to endure the harsh weather—might get sick. I, on the other hand, need to stay with my wagon—be sure nothing gets damaged. You’ll like the family, Rebekah, all ages of children, every one of them cute as baby foxes.”

“Foxes indeed!” She had to scoff at his comparison before she could go on. She wanted right that minute to be stoic, to tough out the situation rather than be installed with strangers. But she had to think of Aden. He couldn’t sleep on the ground in this weather, and there was only one wagon. So she squared her shoulders and said thank you—she even gave him a smile. He really was a good man, a very good man.

❧

The rain poured, soaked, and drizzled down for two solid weeks. The Sharp family was ecstatic, at least for the first week. Their crops were in dire need, and Rebekah certainly could understand their joy in welcoming new hope for corn and peas and hay. She wondered if it were raining at Thornapple, imagined those fields greening even in the rain, the smell of Firefly’s damp hide, the sound of rain on the roof at night.

Living with the Sharps was far different from life at Thornapple. Here were six children nine and under who quickly learned they could demand her attention every waking minute. Shy at first, they didn’t take long finding out she was fun to climb on and would play guessing games, give them rides on her shoulders, and create fantastic paper dolls from any scrap they could wheedle away from Mama’s safe keeping. Molly particularly loved those paper dolls and would crawl up in her lap clutching any size of paper she could collect. “Miss ’Ebekah, make dolls,” she would say, and Rebekah always did, glad that somehow in her tomboyish childhood she had learned how to do this.

Amanda Sharp tried to persuade her guest to take her and Mr. Sharp’s bedroom. But Rebekah wouldn’t hear of it, so she shared a room with three little girls, including the little “knee baby” as Amanda called her toddler. The first time Rebekah woke up soaking wet and realized children on both sides of her had failed to make it to the slop jar, she thought maybe she was crazy for turning down the nice privacy of the Sharps’ bedroom. But of course that was only for a short spell while she plundered around looking for dry clothes and bedding. Amanda apologized the next day and said with a grimace followed by a smile, “It’s the rain does it. They hear the rain and thinks they’ve gotta tinkle, too.”

With Idus Sharp’s help, Aden found himself a corner in Ben Ruark’s general store for practicing dentistry since the weather was rugged. He’d ride in every day on Jolly or Jake, repair or pull teeth all day for farm folk who thanked good fortune for letting them see a dentist when it was raining and they couldn’t do much else. Amanda Sharp insisted Aden had to have supper with them every day. “Bad enough you two newlyweds being separated all the rest of the time. You need at least to clap eyes on each other every evenin’. Anyways, you can’t keep a campfire in this horrible weather.”

Amanda was a marvelous cook, and Aden Robards took full advantage of her warm hospitality. Every day he brought a ravenous appetite with him. He ate so hungrily that Rebekah was embarrassed. These people would think she never cooked for him. She knew she shouldn’t care one way or the other, but somehow it did matter. It was particularly disturbing since she couldn’t get close enough to Amanda to be wholly trusted in her kitchen. Amanda let her help in other ways, sweeping, dressing the little ones and reading to them, even washing dishes—but when it came to cooking, she wanted to do it herself.

But, for the most part, she and Amanda got along well. She gradually relaxed into a comfortable routine, becoming accustomed to Amanda’s quiet ways and Idus Sharp’s crudeness. Sometimes she almost forgot what a strange relationship she had with Aden since, after all, she was putting on such a good front for the Sharps. Or so she thought.

One day she and Amanda were hanging wet garments on backs of chairs drawn up close around the kitchen stove. Amanda had just finished telling Rebekah how she and Idus had met at her cousin’s wedding. She hung one sock, then bent over searching in a pile for the sock’s mate as if they had to be hung together. Her lips pursed out in a way Rebekah had already discovered meant Amanda was going to say something she wasn’t sure she should. Finding the sock, she straightened up and started talking again, looking only at the sock, not at Rebekah. “Don’t know what you two done argued about, but you’d best not let too much water run under your bridges ’fore you patch up.”

Rebekah faced her hostess with her own mouth gaping. “We haven’t argued! Everything’s—fine. I don’t—”

“No, it ain’t fine. I know separation when I see it. Ain’t once seen that young man lay a finger on yer cheek nor anywheres else.”

“But that’s—no sign—”

“Shore is. But you can fix it, mind. I know it ain’t my business. But—well, I like you. Both of you. And sometimes a body’s gotta say what needs to be said.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your many kindnesses. But—oh, my goodness!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, not sorry that Grady’s overeagerness in hide-and-seek had caused the whole arrangement of chairs and wet clothes to collapse at that very minute.

“Grady Sharp! Go stand in the corner this very minute! And if you don’t, I’m gonna get you with this here wet towel and blister yer legs!”

❧

Rebekah wondered when it would ever stop raining. She had felt awkward with the Sharps at first because they were strangers, but now she felt awkward because Amanda was so perceptive. She was actually glad one morning when Aden asked her to go into town with him. He knew of two clients who’d asked him to put fillings in their teeth, and he’d need her to help him by handing instruments and preparing the amalgam while he drilled teeth with his sometimes-cranky hand drill.

One client was a scared, sweet little woman who closed her eyes tightly as soon as Aden began examining her problem. It took both Aden and Rebekah to pry her out of the chair when he was done. She’d been so rigid for so long she couldn’t unfold. The other one was a young man who came late in the afternoon from his logging job. Aden cheerfully instructed him to wash his face in a nearby basin before he’d even look at his mouth. “Don’t want you developing an infection from local contamination,” he explained, grinning at Rebekah, who made a face behind the man’s back. She wished he had washed more than his face.

As Rebekah followed Aden’s meticulous instructions, mixing amalgam and handing him instruments, she listened to his running one-sided conversation with this young fellow named Pete. Pete grunted sometimes or flopped a hand up and down in answer to Aden’s monologue.

“Now, Pete, this may feel like a sawmill in your mouth. Steady there. You take down some big trees today? Must have been pine. You’ve got signs of pine tar on you. All right now, steady there, Pete—hold on. Your tooth’s been hurting you pretty bad, you said, so you can stand some pain now to get rid of it later. Think of it as fixing your saw blade so it will slice through the wood more easily. You’ll be chomping some fine venison soon with this molar.” Pete slapped a hand on one thigh and grunted, then almost gagged. Aden had to let him come up for air a minute and instructed Rebekah to give him some water before he began again.

“I just had a talk with Jesus about this tooth,” Aden said as he continued. Rebekah looked around to see how the man took that information and saw his eyes stretch wide. Aden laughed. “I’m always glad to have His help. He knows every tooth in your head, I figure, since the Bible says He knows every hair on your head. Oh, you didn’t know that? And you know what’s even better? He thinks about us! Come on now, Pete—I’ll be through in a minute. Listen to what I’m telling you. It’ll help get your mind off this tooth. Got that amalgam ready, Rebekah? That’s a little too much. There. Yes, the Lord God Almighty thinks about us! Says so right there in Jeremiah. It says, ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’ See, He’s thinking thoughts of peace, not of evil, and He’s given me a lot of hope that the expected end is going to be really good for you. Now bite down on this piece of paper. Oh, let me see if I can rasp that off for you a bit. Rough as sandpaper. Your tongue will go crazy on that. Now—about that eating. You’re going to have to go easy on it for a day or two. Tell your wife to fix you some good soup.”

After Pete wobbled out the door, one hand on his briary jaw, Rebekah began to clean up. “Do you always talk your patients to death like that?”

“He wasn’t dead. He’ll be out in the woods again tomorrow, fine as ever with no toothache.”

“Humph!” She wiped the metal table clean. “Just doesn’t seem fair somehow—you talking so much, asking questions your clients can’t answer.”

“Yes, but think of it as my special nerve-calming recipe,” said Aden, putting instruments in a small pan of disinfectant. “Works every time.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the jaunty pleasure in his voice. The man sure loved what he did. She sobered immediately as she remembered what Amanda Sharp had said, how they appeared to have had an argument. She supposed they really seemed like strangers to each other because that’s what they were. All that Bible talk he’d thrown at Pete proved to her again that she and he weren’t a good match and never would be. He spoke a foreign language she didn’t plan to learn.

But she did like assisting him all the same and was disappointed when, for the next few days, he left her to stay cozy and dry at the Sharps’. He’d come in at night soaking wet from his ride out from town. Amanda would insist he and Idus should sit by the kitchen fire and dry out, though they both complained that they were hot enough as it was and what did she want, some steamed clams for supper? Then she’d laugh and tell them they were so far from steamed clams there was no comparison. Clams, she declared, wouldn’t talk the horns off a billy goat. Idus, though disgruntled, did what his wife instructed as if he were fully aware that in this situation she was the boss.

One night, though, Aden was very solemn. Idus Sharp started conversations that soon stalled out until he stopped trying. The children still pestered Aden to enter their fun. During the meal they chattered noisily, trading with each other cornbread for bits of salt pork as they tried to involve both Aden and Rebekah in their argument about whether or not ghosts were real. Aden only grinned a time or two, ruffled Tom’s hair one time, responded to Mary Beth’s direct questions and no more. “No, there are no ghosts,” he declared finally. Seeing Rebekah’s odd look, he shrugged his shoulders. “At least I don’t think so.”

“I think Doc’s off in another world tonight,” said Amanda, trying to tease the baby into taking one more bite of smashed peas. “You young ’uns leave him be tonight, you hear?”

“Sorry. I’m not very sociable, am I?” Aden looked around at all of them, then let his gaze linger on Rebekah’s face. “I’m worried about a patient who’s probably going to be in a lot of pain tonight. Think I’ll ride back over to his place. I had to pull four teeth today, and he’s—it was rough for him.” He pushed his chair back.

Amanda shuddered. “Well, do go help the poor man. Dear me! Four at one time.”

“And they were solidly seated, too,” added Aden. “I had to get another fellow to hold onto my patient, give me some leverage. Those teeth did not want to come.”

“Then why’d you take ’em?” asked Amanda curiously. “Why not leave ’em in the poor man’s head?”

“They were giving him all kinds of pain. He couldn’t enjoy eating and had wasted away to a beanpole. Teeth were turning into his cheeks and would cause more and more difficulty.”

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case—but if it was me, I think I’d hold onto that pain rather than try a worse one.”

“About now he’s probably wishing he’d done that,” said Aden. At the door he looked back at Rebekah. “I’m afraid infection may set in, and—the man’s wife has a bunch of kids to see to, so—”

“I’ll be fine here,” said Rebekah. “Of course do what you need to do.” Feeling Idus and Amanda Sharp staring at her, she smiled and said again, “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure is a fine dentist you have there,” said Idus Sharp after Aden had left. “If I ever have to have teeth pulled,” he added, making a long face, “I hope I’ll have someone around who’ll worry about me like that.”

“He’ll be ready to worry about you anytime, Mr. Sharp,” said Rebekah, amused at the way he then clamped a big rough hand over his mouth. Later, after the dishes were done and the children in bed, she sat down to weave cloth scraps while Amanda knitted and her husband snored in his chair.

The next night Aden didn’t come to supper but sent word by a passing neighbor that he’d be nursing his patient all night. He didn’t come back for three days.

The sun came out finally, and after one full, sunny day, Amanda accepted Rebekah’s help tackling the weeds in her garden.

“Ground’s still too wet. We’re liable to ruin everything, us tromping around in the mud. My mom always said working in wet ground’d turn it hard as brick. But ain’t gonna be much use to have a crop if’n the weeds choke the termaters an’ beans to death.”

Rebekah agreed. Sometimes you had to choose the lesser of difficult consequences. She worked tirelessly, hardly aware of the scorching sun’s rays. She worked up a blister and didn’t notice until small Maggie exclaimed over it.

“All work causes pain,” she explained to the little girl while she hand-pulled grass from among tender tomato plants.

“I don’t like work. I like to play,” said Maggie.

“I guess, to me, work is play,” answered Rebekah.

“You really love gardening, don’t you?” asked Amanda, straightening to squint at the sun.

“I really do.”

“You miss your home.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe—you’ll have a garden again someday,” said Amanda.

“Yeah, and I’ll come see you, Miss ’Ebekah!” said Maggie.

“Maybe.” Rebekah was glad Amanda hadn’t taken the opportunity of lecturing her about being happy with what she had. She had no intention of becoming happy with what she had because she didn’t plan to keep it. But Amanda Sharp didn’t have to know that.

“I guess you like work, too, don’t you, Amanda?” Rebekah still said the woman’s name carefully, feeling disrespectful to call someone older than herself by her first name, though Amanda insisted.

“No,” answered Amanda. “Not really. I just—love my family, that’s all.”

❧

When Aden finally came back, he was leading a new horse, a bay called Banner. “Because of the single white marking below his forelock,” he explained, running his fingers over the “white flag” as he introduced Banner to the Sharp family, all gathered in front of their house.

Rebekah stayed on the tall front steps hugging herself and staring at the horse.

“Come meet Banner, Rebekah,” called Aden. “He’ll be yours as long as we can keep him. We’ll have to sell him sooner or later, but—”

Rebekah unfolded her arms but held her hands tightly fisted at her sides.

“He’s real sweet, Miss ’Ebekah,” said Molly, laughing as the horse seemed interested in eating her thatch of blond hair.

Rebekah approached the horse slowly. “How’d you get him?” she asked, still making no move to touch Banner.

“He’s payment. For the tooth pulling. I know, a lot bigger payment than I usually get, a lot better than a few potatoes. His master developed quite a fever, and I wouldn’t leave him. Now he says he has no cash. But he wants me to take Banner, his extra horse. I told him if he got the money together I’d trade back. In the meantime—”

Rebekah saw hope in Aden’s eyes that both scared her and pulled her, but she didn’t know why. He looked so tired, too, and she truly didn’t want to be mean. Anyway, the horse was undoubtedly a beauty so, in spite of herself, she finally ran a hand lightly down his shoulder. Banner rubbed his head against her, and Aden burst into laughter. “I knew you two would like each other!” he said.

But as Rebekah lay that night in Aden’s wagon (she had no excuse any longer for needing shelter from the weather), she promised herself she would not love Banner. Aden had said he was hers until they sold him or until his patient found enough cash to pay him. So—no, she wouldn’t allow herself to love Banner. Everything in her life now was temporary. Life would begin again only when she got home to Thornapple. She chased a thought of using Banner as a means to go home. It couldn’t be too far for her to ride in a couple of days or at least three. But then she’d have nothing when she got there, so what good would it do her? Somehow she had to arrive back at Thornapple with land-buying money in her hand, even if enough for only a few acres.