Rebecca's Return Read Online Free PDF

following a V-shaped grain of dark cherry halfway across the top, “is the thing of dreams. It goes with us today.”
    The man chuckled, glancing at John. “You watch football?”
    “No,” John shook his head and replied, “not really.”
    “Thought so.” His chuckle turned into a grin. “Watching the game on a new fifty-eight inch plasma is a dream.”
    “Just ignore him,” the woman told John. “ This is what we want. A real Amish hope chest for Candice. A quilt for her too. Just to start things off. A real jump-start to her hope life. Perhaps one of those.” She motioned across the room with her eyes. “From there Candice can come up with her own ideas. Isn’t that right?”
    “What is Candice going to do with a hope chest?” he asked. “She’s only five.”
    Her eyes regained the sparkle John had seen earlier. “You Amish have hope chests, don’t you?” She directed the question to John.
    “I’m not sure.” John found himself searching for an answer. “My older sister had a cedar chest.”
    “There you go,” she pronounced in victory, turning in her husband’s direction. “That’s what I want for Candice—what the Amish girls have. Something to keep her in touch with reality. The way things are messed up in this world—just look at the political situation. This is the perfect touch. A real Amish hope chest. Right in her own room.”
    He shrugged. “I suppose she can use all the help she can get.”
    “We’ll take it,” she announced with zest, turning toward John. “Let’s get it paid for and then packed into the Navigator. I’ve got some blankets to use so it won’t get scratched on the trip back home. You will help load it, won’t you?”
    “Sure,” John assured her. “We have shipping too, at an extra charge if you want that. It then comes right to your door.”
    “I thought the blankets were for the screen.” The husband was protesting the inevitable. “Why not ship this? Then we can have the screen home by tonight.”
    “The screen can ship,” she told him firmly. “There’s nothing special about a new television. This,” she said, running her hand over the cherry grain again, “I want to bring home myself.” She smiled, but her husband was still looking for the price tag.
    “Will that be all then?” John asked, clearing his throat and remembering her interest in the quilt but not wanting to push too hard. He flipped over the tiny price tag and busied himself writing the size and price on his clipboard. He saw the husband register the price and wince.
    With that look, John figured the big screen he planned to purchase must have just gotten a few inches smaller and might get even smaller if the quilt was still in play. Feeling sympathy for the man, he was about to walk toward the checkout counter.
    “The quilt,” she exclaimed into her husband’s ear. “Can’t forget that. Could be a long time before we get up here again. We can’t give Candice an empty hope chest for Christmas. What a horrible start to a dream—with an empty chest. Show me what you have,” she said, glancing in John’s direction, her eyes still carrying the alarm of her just spoken thoughts.
    John avoided the man’s eyes, fell into his responsibilities as the salesman, and followed the wife over to where the quilts hung on a rack. The first one she stopped at had a floral arrangement design. The center was dominated by a flowerpot. Its flowers protruded up and down, past the sides, and everything was held visually in place by two circles.
    “Don’t think so,” she muttered to herself, “a little overdone. Let’s see…” She moved over to the next quilt, nestled closely beside its companion. Her eyes ran over the cross in the center, its crossed arms of equal length, ends flaring with eight-sided stars. Another larger cross outlined the smaller one, the sort which graced the Christian shields of the knights of old. Beyond that was a repeat of an even larger version, going all the