“It’s called a prayer kapp. Amish women believe the Bible commands them to cover their hair when they pray.”
“But they don’t just wear them in church?” Roseanne turned to stare at him, waiting for an explanation.
He wanted to hear what the reporter was saying. “A woman might want to pray anytime, so she keeps her head covered all day. They never cut their hair, either.”
Rebecca’s blond hair must be past her hips by now. He’d seen it down only once. It was the night he talked Rebecca into going to a hoedown with him and his rowdy friends.
Hoedown was a benign name for a weekend-long party with loud music, alcohol and drugs attended by some of the wilder Amish youth during their rumspringa, or running-around time. He had made the most of his rumspringa and partied hard. For Rebecca, that one party had been her only venture on the wild side.
Gideon took the remote from his secretary and turned up the volume. The TV reporter droned on. “Miss Beachy stitched this beautiful quilt entirely by hand. What’s even more amazing is that she is totally blind.”
“How on earth can a blind woman make a quilt?” Roseanne’s skeptical comment barely registered in Gideon’s brain.
Rebecca was blind?
Suddenly, he was gasping for air and coughing so hard his head pounded. It took a minute to catch his breath. Roseanne pulled the lid off the tea and offered him some. He took a grateful sip.
Concern filled her eyes. “Do you know her?”
“I once asked her to marry me. I think if she had said yes, I would be a bearded Amish farmer now.” With a blind wife.
Rebecca was blind. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact. Why? When had it happened? The thought of the vibrant woman he’d known living her life in darkness left an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the flu. Before he could gather more details, the news program moved on to the weather forecast and warnings about an artic front plowing southward delivering early ice and snow in its wake.
Craig said, “I read the Amish don’t believe in health insurance. Is that true?”
“Most don’t. The community would rally round a family that had big medical expenses, but they could only do so much.”
Gideon had to help. He pulled his phone from his pocket and prayed the news station could give him more information. It wasn’t until he tried to speak that he realized his voice was gone. He handed the phone to Roseanne and wrote a quick note on a piece of paper from her desk.
Get me all the information you can about the auction.
After a brief conversation, Roseanne hung up and handed the notepad to him. “It’s at noon the day after tomorrow.”
That gave him one day to rest up. If he headed out early the following morning he could make the six-hour trip there and back. It would be a long day, but doable.
Craig said, “Tell me you’re not going to drive to Ohio.”
Roseanne studied Gideon’s face. “Yes, he is.”
“I know we’re going to have a wonderful time today.”
Rebecca Beachy didn’t share her aunt Vera’s optimism. She folded her white cane and tucked it under her arm. Grasping her aunt’s elbow, she let Vera lead her toward the tent where the quilt auction was about to get under way. Besides Rebecca’s quilt, there were thirty others being auctioned off. Rebecca kept a smile on her face as she followed her aunt even though she was anything but comfortable.
Disoriented by the noise and smells of the fairlike atmosphere, she wished she were back in her aunt’s small home where everything was in its rightful place and nothing was ready to trip her up.
The thought had barely crossed her mind before something hit her legs and made her stumble.
“Sorry,” a pair of childish voices called out. She heard their footsteps as the children ran away.
“Hooligans,” Vera muttered.
“Excited Kinder at play.” Rebecca listened to the sound of the children’s voices as they shouted to each other. A pang of longing escaped from the place in her heart where she kept her fading dreams.
Dreams she once had of being a wife and a mother, of holding a child of her own. She’d had the chance to make those dreams come true years before, but she had been too afraid to take the risk. Had she made the right choice? Only God knew.
“Englisch children without manners,” Vera grumbled. “Come, we’re almost there.”
Rebecca drew a deep breath. Her life was what it was. This was God’s plan for her. Impossible dreams had no place in her dark world.
But if the darkness could be lifted?
She didn’t dare hope for such a miracle. This benefit auction was her aunt’s doing. Rebecca had tried to convince her the surgery was too expensive. They would need more money than would be raised here today. Even if they did manage to cover the cost, there was no guarantee her sight would be restored.
She had argued long and hard to no avail. The auction was under way. It was all in God’s hands, but Rebecca didn’t believe He would produce a miracle for her. She was not worthy. She knew exactly why her sight had been taken from her.
She pulled the collar of her coat closed against a cold gust of wind and ugly memories. An early storm was on its way, but God had seen fit to hold it off until the auction was over. For that she was thankful. At least she and her aunt didn’t need to worry about traveling home in foul weather. They had already made plans to stay in town for several days.
Suddenly, the wind was blocked, and Rebecca knew they were inside the tent. It was warmer than she expected. The smells of hot dogs, popcorn, hot chocolate and coffee told her they were near the concession stand. The sound of hundreds of voices raised to be heard over the general din assaulted her ears. When they finally reached their seats, Rebecca unbuttoned her coat and removed her heavy bonnet. Many of the people around her greeted her in her native Pennsylvania Dutch. Leaning closer to her aunt, she asked, “Is my kapp on straight? Do I look okay?”
“And why wouldn’t you look okay?” Vera asked.
“Because I may have egg yolk from breakfast on my dress, or my backside may be covered with dust from the buggy seat. I don’t know. Just tell me I look presentable.” She knew everyone would be staring at her when her quilt was brought up for auction. She didn’t like being the center of attention.
“You look lovely.” The harsh whisper startled her.
She turned her face toward the sound coming from behind her and caught the scent of a man’s spicy aftershave. The voice must belong to an Englisch fellow. “Danki.”
“You’re most welcome.” He coughed and she realized he was sick.
“You sound as if you should be abed with that cold.”
“So I’ve been told,” he admitted.
“It is
