Rum Spring by Yolanda Wallace Page B

friends. Parents respected their children’s privacy and, if need be, pretended not to know their offspring had begun the selection process.
    Rebecca valued her parents’ opinions. Their expressions indicated they approved of Tobias and his yet-unstated intentions to woo her. If they considered him a worthy lifemate for her, why didn’t she?
    Tobias was the spitting image of his sister. He was as handsome as Esther was beautiful. They had the same corn silk-colored hair and bright blue eyes. When Rebecca looked into those eyes, though, she didn’t feel the same way she did when she looked into Dylan’s. She felt fondness when she looked into Tobias’s eyes. When she looked into Dylan’s, she felt something close to—
    “I’m going to see to the horses.”
    Rebecca walked out of the house and headed to the barn. She heard voices when she approached the half-open door. On second thought, she heard only one person speaking, not two. Uncle Amos was talking to himself. He seemed to be practicing a speech. Listening a little longer, Rebecca gathered that Uncle Amos was rehearsing his sermon. He would give the short lecture that opened services; her father would deliver the longer one later in the day. During the time between the two talks, worshipers would comment on what was said and sing selections from the Ausbund, an ancient book of hymns.
    “Guder mariye, Uncle Amos,” Rebecca said, making her presence known.
    “Guder mariye, Rebecca. Have you come to help your old uncle or humor him?”
    “Both.” Rebecca held a burlap bag open while her uncle filled it with a combination of oats and sweet feed. One of Uncle Amos’s horses nudged her shoulder with his muzzle. “Coming, Goliath,” she said, reaching up to stroke the white patch on the big horse’s face. “Be patient.”
    She watched as Uncle Amos picked up the feed bag and strapped it around Goliath’s neck. The horse crunched on the bag’s contents as if he had not eaten in a week. Rebecca knew better.
    “Slow down, greedy. I know Uncle Amos fed you yesterday. Have you brushed and combed the horses yet, Uncle Amos?”
    “Not yet,” he said, filling another feed bag. “I was saving that chore for you.”
    Rebecca selected a brush and comb from the collection of tools that hung on one wall of the barn. She slipped the comb into the pocket of her apron and began to brush the horses, a task that gave her nearly as much pleasure as it did the animals. Rebecca could almost feel Goliath sighing as she ran the brush over his coarse hair.
    “Uncle Amos?”
    “Yes, child?”
    “We have always been close, have we not?”
    “Ayuh.”
    The one-word answer perfectly summed up their relationship. Rebecca fondly remembered the many nearly wordless afternoons they had spent fishing, reading, or tending to the animals. Uncle Amos didn’t talk much, but his meaning was always clear. When he did speak, his words were powerful. They carried much weight. Both in his family and in his community.
    “May I ask you a question?”
    “Of course, child. What is it?”
    “You’re older than Papa, but he is the one who is married with children. Why are you still clean-shaven after all these years while Papa is the one who has a beard down to his chest? Could you find no one to marry?”
    Uncle Amos was quiet for so long Rebecca began to think she had offended him. She was trying to concoct a suitable apology when he finally answered her question.
    “There was someone dear to me when I was a young man, but we were not meant to live as one.”
    Rebecca combed Goliath’s thick black mane. “Was it not God’s will for you to be together?”
    “You’ve heard the story of the country mouse and the city mouse? That is what we were. I could never leave the country for the tumult of the city. I tried to leave once, but the noise and excitement proved too much for me. I prefer the quiet of the farm and our people. In the city, I felt lost. It was rush, rush, rush all the time