The Postcard by Beverly Lewis Read Free Book Online Page B

as having been spiteful, then immediately asking the Lord to forgive her. She knew her cousin meant well. There was no doubt in her mind about Esther’s motives.

    Once Esther and Levi had departed for Ohio, Rachel allowed herself to confront the extent of her loss, agonizing over the guilt that hung weighty in her mind. She sat up in bed each and every morning, greeting the dawn just as the sun was about to break over the horizon, though not without tears. Her outward mourning was her soul’s response to the pain in her heart—especially at night—though she purposely put on a smile for Annie during the daylight hours.
    Mam seemed wise to what was happening, though, and one morning while helping Rachel with her gardening, Susanna broached the subject. “Your eyes are forever swollen and red. Are you crying for Jacob and Aaron or for yourself?”
    Rachel felt her heart constrict, wondering how to explain the pain inside. The guilt was present with her always, along with such feelings of worthlessness. “I should’ve been the one to die,” Rachel replied, tears choking her voice.
    Mam’s expression was filled with tender concern. “It is not for us to question God’s ways.”
    “Jah” was the only answer she could give, though she thought of telling her mother the truth, that she wished she might die even now.
    “We must trust the Lord to work His will among us,” continued her mother. “Each of us must come to accept it in due time.”
    In due time . . .
    Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “It is not so hard to submit to the will of God.” She paused, having to breathe deeply before she could go on. “It’s knowing that things might’ve been— should’ve been—different, oh, so much different.” She could not attempt to describe the ongoing gnawing in her heart, that she felt responsible for the accident. Accepting the deaths of her beloved ones would have been far easier had it not been for that singular fact.
    “Time to move on, Daughter, past your agony,” Mam said, though such a pat answer was nothing new. “For Annie’s sake, you must.”
    In essence, her mother was saying the same things Esther had spoken to her before leaving—time’s up on the pity party! Say what they may, she wondered how either of them might be coping with the unexpected and violent deaths of their own husbands. Cautious not to brood, Rachel pushed the thought out of her mind and prayed for grace to bear the loss, as well as the correction of her elders.
    She trudged up the back steps and into the kitchen, carrying a large plastic bowl filled with mounds of leaf lettuce and a fistful of new carrots from the garden. Her vision shifted and the room seemed to float about. Things cleared up again just as quickly, and she wouldn’t have thought much about it, except the English doctor had said all this would go away. Less than a week , he’d said. Well, now here it was two full weeks since the accident, and her eyes were still playing tricks on her.
    She and Mam began to chop green peppers and cucumbers for a salad. But when the fuzziness returned, Rachel was hesitant to say anything, holding her knife silently. The blurring lasted much longer than usual, and she pushed the knife down hard into the butcher block, waiting. The longer the fog prevailed, the harder her heart pounded. Still, she attempted to stare down at a grayish-looking green pepper.
    “What’s wrong, Rachel?” Mam said. “You all right?”
    She blinked repeatedly, trying to shake off whatever was causing the frustrating distortion. Steadily, she directed her gaze downward at the knife she knew was in her hand and the pepper on the cutting block, willing herself to see clearly, to focus on the shapes. Hard as she tried, she was engulfed in a misty world of grays and whites.
    “Rachel?” She felt Mam’s hand on her arm. “You’re pale. Come sit for a spell.”
    She released the paring knife and followed Mam to the rocking chair—Jacob’s