The Rebel Read Online Free PDF Page B

teens, they’d begin acquiring the things they’d need for their married lives.
    Amish married lives, of course. The idea seemed to stick in Barbie’s throat. The last thing she ought to have, given her current uncertainty about her future, was a dower chest.
    â€œThis is for you.” Grossmammi’s tone was firm.
    It was clearly useless to argue. “Denke, Grossmammi,” she murmured, her throat tight.
    â€œI pray it will be a blessing to you, just as Rebecca’s and Judith’s gifts were to them. They each found an understanding they needed from the previous owners of their objects.”
    â€œThis was yours, so I already can rely on your wisdom, ain’t so?” She tried to speak lightly, not wanting to think of a time when Grossmammi wouldn’t be with them.
    Her grandmother smiled, her gaze softening as it rested on the dower chest. “It holds such memories for me. All the important reminders of my life were in this chest at one time or another.”
    â€œAll the more reason not to let it go,” Barbie said quickly.
    But her grandmother shook her head. “No. It’s time. We’ll go through the things in it together, you and me. There’s no hurry. Then I’ll know that my stories won’t die with me, ain’t so?”
    â€œNone of us will ever forget you. And you’ll be with us for a gut long time yet.” Surely Grossmammi knew what an influence her love had been on each of her grandchildren, didn’t she?
    Grossmammi just shook her head. “Open it.”
    Barbie knelt on the braided rug in front of the chest, taking a moment to trace the faded painting on the front. Two stylized birds faced each other, surrounded by hearts, the colors paled almost to invisibility. Then she raised the latch and lifted thelid, letting out the scent of the lavender Grossmammi had put in with her treasures.
    The trunk was full to the top. Clearly this was going to take some time, if Grossmammi intended to tell her something about every item in the trunk. She hesitated a moment and then lifted out the object that lay on top—something soft wrapped in a section of an old sheet, faded to a soft ivory color with age and as thin as paper.
    Carefully, not knowing what was inside, she unwrapped the fabric. Her breath caught. Inside was a tiny baby gown, made in the softest of cotton to the same pattern baby gowns were made to this day. She lifted it, spreading it out, and it struck Barbie that something was wrong.
    Baby gowns were normally worn and frayed from frequent washings as they passed from one baby to the next . . . inevitable in an Amish family. This one looked brand new.
    â€œGrossmammi?” She looked up, a question in her voice.
    Her grandmother’s eyes had filled with tears. She held out her hands, and Barbie put the gown in them, speculations tumbling in her mind.
    Grossmammi stroked the fine stitching with gentle fingers, as if each stitch contained a memory. A tear dropped on the material, and she blotted it away.
    â€œThis I made for my first babe,” she said softly. “We were going to name him Matthias. He never lived to wear it.”
    Lancaster County, Spring 1960
    Elizabeth Lapp folded the sheet over the baby gown, her heart wincing as the precious garment vanished from view. For aninstant everything in her rebelled. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Why should she and Reuben be denied the right to watch their firstborn live and grow?
    It is God’s will.
The answer was clear, but so very hard to accept. She’d never realized how hard. Nothing in her life thus far had prepared her for the pain of losing little Matthias.
    Amish thrift insisted that the gown should be saved and used for another baby, but Elizabeth knew she would never do so. She’d sewn it while feeling the boppli kicking inside her, laughing a little in sheer joy when the vigorous effort had actually made the fabric bounce