Rebecca's Return by Jerry S. Eicher Page B

interrupted him, as he was turning the pages to Luke. “John’s not home yet,” she said, concern in her voice.
    “He’s probably catching up on all the news—you know—Rebecca’s been away for a long time.” Isaac chuckled at his own humor, thinking that time was considered to be of greater length by young people, although it consisted of the same twenty-four hours everyone else had.
    “I just heard a horse run in the driveway,” Miriam said, still concerned.
    “Then he’ll be right in.” Isaac had found Luke, chapter eighteen and dropped his eyes to the page.
    “It sounded like just his horse,” Miriam insisted. “No buggy wheels.”
    Isaac raised his eyes skeptically. “You’re probably hearing things.”
    “It’s time for him to be home. He doesn’t like being out late… except on youth nights.”
    “He’ll be in.” Isaac was on the first verse of the chapter, anxious to continue.
    “I think you ought to look,” she insisted.
    “What could be wrong?” Isaac tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.
    “It just sounded strange. You should go look. It’s not normal for him. I just—I don’t know.” She stood still in the living room doorway.
    “Just wait a minute—he’ll be in.”
    “Where’s your flashlight?” she asked.
    “In the mudroom—left it there last night.”
    A minute later Isaac heard Miriam open the door. She just has to worry. Must be the mother in her. He let the German words of the Scriptures from Luke form on his tongue. It helped with the memorization. At least it did for him. How the others ministers prepared, they never discussed.
    Only seconds had passed before Miriam’s hurried footsteps were heard from the mudroom, causing a brief stab of worry in Isaac. What can be her rush? Simple worrying would not explain this. He rose from the recliner as she opened the outside kitchen door.
    Her face was white. In a blur of motion, Isaac saw Miriam standing there, her lips open, but no sound was coming out. She held out a trembling hand to him as if beseeching him for something she was unable to ask for. Her other hand was still on the doorknob, holding her body steady.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked, moving toward her.
    She worked her mouth, but still no sound came out.
    Isaac was now close to Miriam, reaching for her upraised hand, his other going to her shoulder, his eyes finding hers. “What is it?” he asked, insistence in his voice.
    “John—John,” she managed, making a smothering sound. “Something’s wrong. Oh Isaac! What if he’s dead?”
    “Dead?” Isaac repeated numbly, a cold fear sweeping through his body.
    “The buggy. It’s not here. Just the horse—it’s still—things are hanging on him. Something terrible has happened.”
    Isaac shook his head, trying to absorb the news but not succeeding. It made no sense. “Show me,” he said, moving toward the door, his hand still holding hers.
    “I can’t,” she said, reaching for a chair from the kitchen table and seating herself slowly. “I just know he’s gone. John—the only son of our love. Da Hah has taken him.”
    Gently Isaac took the flashlight from her fingers, having to apply force to loosen it. Miriam seemed not to notice. He went out the door.
    Using the flashlight, Isaac ran across the front lawn, quickly finding John’s horse standing in front of the barn door, pieces of harness hanging on him, his front quarters shivering violently, the muscles jerking in reaction to some recent trauma.
    Isaac’s mind reeled as he forced himself to think what must be done. First, he walked to the end of their driveway but heard no sound of sirens in the distance, nor could he see any police cruiser lights. What happened must have just happened, or perhaps no one had discovered it yet.
    Images of John lying beside the road ran through Isaac’s mind, and he almost took off running down Wheat Ridge toward the west, with only his flashlight to guide him. No sooner did the thought come than