Rebecca's Choice by Jerry S. Eicher Page B

the envelope over and discovered it was addressed to him, the handwriting simple and unimpressive. That was strange, but perhaps a child had mailed him a get-well card. This would also explain the timing—well-meaning but late.
    He placed the letter to his left, straightened up the rest of the mail, and gathered up his stack. On the way upstairs, his mother called to him from the sewing room.
    “Anything for me?”
    “Don’t know. I was looking for my stuff.”
    “Anything?”
    “A late bill. Another get-well card.”
    “That’s strange. That was months ago.”
    “Thought so too.” John paused at the stair door.
    “Let me know if I know the people.”
    “Will do.” John opened the door and started upward. He took the steps two at a time. My, it’s good, he thought, to be well again! I have much to be thankful for.
    After entering his bedroom, he shut the door and threw the mail on his desk, a little piece of furniture in the corner, damaged and purchased at a reduced price from Miller’s Furniture. It suited him, he had always thought.
    First he changed into work clothes for the evening chores he helped his father do, then he reached for the get-well letter. Its childish block letters fascinated him. One never knew what children would do.
    Seated on the desk chair, he opened the envelope and slid the letter out. It wasn’t a card as he expected. The words were written in the same block handwriting as the address. He read slowly in disbelief.
Dear John Miller,
You don’t need to know who I am. Just consider me a friend trying to warn you. Also, this is not a prank. I have solid information from which to tell you this.
The girl you are dating, Rebecca Keim, is prepared to marry you for money. I know this may come as a shock, but it’s true. Her former schoolteacher lives in Milroy and has promised her a large sum of money if she will marry within the Amish faith. I just thought you should know this.
Signed,
Your friend
     
    John burst out in laughter. This was a good joke, he thought. This was something his friend Will would do, or perhaps one of the others from the Amish youth group might come up with such a scheme. This was intended to scare him—a good joke, sent under the guise of a get-well card.
    They all knew he had been ill, he figured, and were capable of such a practical joke. Imagine, he thought with a chuckle, Rebecca with plans to marry him for money. It was completely impossible.
    She had stood by him while he was in the hospital, while he was threatened with paralysis, and had never complained. His mother could give witness to that. Miriam had been with Rebecca during the time he was unconscious and mentioned many times since how Rebecca never once faltered in her commitment to him.
    This was one of the reasons his parents were so convinced Rebecca was the girl for him, their second child and only son. John laughed heartily again and headed downstairs, the letter in hand.
    “Look at this,” he said, as he waved the letter around. “Some get-well card, my foot. It’s a joke.”
    Miriam raised her eyebrows and took the letter. She read in silence as John waited.
    “One of the boys,” John said when she was done. “Maybe Will playing his stunts.”
    “She was at Emma’s funeral,” Miriam said quietly.
    “Emma’s funeral? She said she would be.”
    Miriam shrugged. “Maybe you ought to look into this.”
    “Emma was her former schoolteacher,” John protested. “You can’t think there’s something to this.”
    “Probably not,” Miriam agreed. “It would be mighty strange, I guess. How would someone find out, though? These things have to be announced through wills. I think that’s how money is handled in the English world. They use lawyers and all.”
    “That’s crazy,” John said laughing. “It’s someone’s joke. Really, Mom, Rebecca would have told me.”
    “Maybe,” Miriam allowed. “I guess you’ll find out if it’s true when you marry her.”
    “She doesn’t