Rebecca's Choice Read Online Free PDF

start burning, but neither Miriam nor Isaac seemed to be looking her way.
    “What horse are you driving?” John asked, getting up from his chair.
    “The younger one.”
    “Little skittish, no?”
    “He’s okay,” she told him. But John wasn’t convinced—she could tell.
    “Better get you on the road again before it gets too late,” he said. His firm words made her feel cared for and warm inside.
    “I’ll be going, then.” She stood and pushed her chair back under the table.
    Without a further word, John followed her to the front door, tucked his shirt in, put his boots and coat on, and stepped outside. Together they walked toward the barn. John filled her side vision, his hands in his coat pockets.
    “Take care of yourself,” he said, when they got to the buggy. He loosened the tie rope as she got in. “Sorry about Emma.”
    “Good night,” she told him, as he let go of the bridle. The young horse made his usual dashing takeoff. When she turned right at the blacktop, she saw him standing by the barn, watching her leave, his form barely visible in the darkness.

C HAPTER F IVE
     

     
    T he late Emma Miller, beloved schoolteacher and spinster, lay in the master bedroom, enclosed in a plain pine box coffin. Behind her rose the massive stone fireplace of her residence. For hours now relatives and family had gathered, each in turn came into the bedroom, slowly moved past the coffin, and paid their respects to the departed.
    Inside the front door, tables had been set up where hats and bonnets could be placed. Benches were placed in the living room. Later the overflow spilled into the dining room. The activity in the house had the feel of an informal church service.
    Men and women, after going into the bedroom, found their way back out and took their seats on separate sides of the room. Even here—when death had come to call—the rigid forms of male and female separation were not broken.
    Supper had been prepared and served already, the dishes cleared away. Any latecomers had to go without food. The protocol was simple and plain, as they believed the Lord God desired.
    Rachel had persuaded Reuben to arrive earlier than normal. Luke would come when he wanted to. Reuben had complained, saying his goats needed his attention yet. That had not surprised Rachel because Reuben’s goats were lately the most important thing on his mind. Reuben paid more attention to them then he did to her. Not that she cared, Rachel told herself, but it was just one more reason to hate the ugly things.
    Reuben had expressed his regret over the eaten flowers and promised to tie the animals more securely. Promises, especially Reuben’s, meant little to Rachel. To her, he was the example of a promise unfulfilled.
    The reason why Rachel had wanted to come early was to plan for the future. Now that Emma was gone, a little forward thinking might stand her in good stead.
    While they drove up the long driveway, Reuben let the horse take it’s own good time. Rachel utilized the opportunity to contemplate the place—the barn, the yard full of towering oak trees, and the great house with its Englisha fireplace. Such a fireplace wasn’t allowed in the ordnung, but even the Amish bishop knew it could not be torn out, as most outside influences were when the Amish purchased a residence. Dismantling the grand fireplace would have caused serious damage to the home, and so Emma had lived with the Englisha fireplace.
    Perhaps it was the fireplace, with its massive chimney through the roof, or perhaps it was the lay of the house on the hill that caused Rachel to make up her mind. This was to be her place. Emma had two other places—nice ones—and who knew how much money in the bank, a tidy sum Rachel was sure.
    This place was to be hers, though. How that was to be managed, Rachel wasn’t sure, but it would be. She was certain of it. The years of pain had been too long, and the agony of the wait too great for it to be snatched away right before