WE’LL MEET TOMORROW
Chapter Three

After saying good-bye to Rose, who was now lying in bed, Jack made his way towards the stable. Ebony let out something between a whinny and a squeal when he approached, and pawed at the wood floor with his hoof.

Michael, who heard the noise, immediately abandoned his painting and went to help.

"Whoa there," Jack soothed, wondering how on earth Mac managed to stay on top of the saddle.

"Let me take care of this, sir," Michael insisted, entering the stall after soothing the animal with a sugar cube. "There now," he said in a quiet voice. "You’re just an old softy, aren’t you?"

Jack folded his arms. "Michael, I appreciate the offer, but really…"

"I don’t mind, Mr. Dawson. You just relax, and I’ll have him ready for you."

Jack narrowed his eyes, starting to protest again, but Michael had already gone to fetch the necessary supplies for the job. The dust in the barn made him sneeze, however, and he had to hurry out quickly before he wound up humiliating himself further and fainting.

"Are you all right?" Michael asked, taking Ebony by the reins and leading the animal into the ring. Jack nodded, wanting very badly to whack the boy across the head with a pitchfork. He hated being pampered and fussed over more than anything, and had it not been for Rose’s persistence, Michael would have been on the first train and ship back to Russia.

"You’re much too weak to be doing everything yourself!" Rose had told him angrily when he’d tried to explain to her that having Michael around was just another mouth to feed. So, they were stuck with the youngest member of the Tsar’s secret police until after Christmas…Anastasia had convinced her father to let her stay over the winter holidays because she adored America so much. "I’ve never seen an American Christmas, and I would love to," she told Jack, and he knew how painful it would be to separate his daughter and the princess.

"Where are you going today?" Michael asked as he began saddling Ebony, who bobbed his head in irritation and snorted.

Jack cleared his throat and folded his arms, just as Michael tightened the saddle straps around Ebony’s stomach. "Into town…I have a job offer I want to have a look at. Thank you," he added, once the horse was ready. "How are the shutters coming, by the way?"

Ebony immediately began to relax once he had stepped into the stirrup, and the horse’s ears twitched with curiosity.

"They’re coming along well, sir," Michael replied. "I should have them finished by lunchtime."

Jack nodded. "Good. Make sure to keep an eye on the girls for me while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours."

Michael saluted him and waved as he sent Ebony into a light canter.

As he rode, Jack realized just how much he missed this sport. As a boy growing up on a farm, he’d been taught to ride almost as soon as he was able to walk. Even after being ill for so long, the skill came back to him with ease. Ebony seemed to sense his master’s condition, and purposely went at a gentle pace.

"Good boy," Jack soothed, stroking the animal’s neck. He refused to use whips on his animals, and couldn’t bear watching others do so. Kindness and patience helped win the way to an animal’s heart, just like a human being.

The ride into town was very smooth, and Jack made a stop at the dressmaker’s first.

"Good morning!" Lucy Evenport greeted him cheerfully as she carried a roll of fabric from the back storage room. "Rose is running rather late today. Is she all right?"

Jack frowned. "She’s not feeling well this morning, so I think she’s going to stay home. I hope that is not too much of an inconvenience."

Lucy set the fabric down on the counter. "Oh, no…I hope she’ll be all right! Send her my regards." She added, "And how are you feeling, Jack?"

He smiled. "A little better each day, thank you." He looked at her. "It’s been a rather slow process." He coughed, as though to prove his point. "Rose should return tomorrow," he added, and Lucy nodded.

"I don’t want Rose pushing herself. But if she can return tomorrow without much trouble, then I would appreciate it very much. Do take care of yourself," she added as Jack started for the door, and he waved as he left the seamstress’ shop.

He took a deep breath as he reached the building that contained the art school, and felt butterflies in his stomach. Good jobs were hard to come by these days, especially when a person had very little experience in the field. He’d brought his portfolio along, which could at least give the headmistress an idea of his talent.

Ebony suddenly nudged him from behind with his nose, and Jack laughed.

"You think I have a chance, huh?" he asked. The horse raised one of its lips, whickering. "Hang in there, boy," Jack continued. "I won’t be long." He straightened up and headed for the building.

*****

Back at the farm, Mac and Anastasia were now in the middle of the woods. It was a beautiful place, filled with tiny caves and a single, narrow river. Anastasia discovered a wild mushroom patch, and immediately began inspecting them.

Suddenly, both girls heard a loud snap and froze in place.

"Oh…" Anastasia breathed, clutching Mac’s arm. "D’you hear…" It happened again, and they stood up.

"It’s coming from over there," Mac whispered, pointing towards a thick grove of trees.

"An animal?" Anastasia whimpered. "Oh, Mac, what if it’s a wolf? Or…"

Mac rolled her eyes. "As I’ve told you," she began matter-of-factly, "there aren’t any wolves around here. Don’t be so silly! But it could be another type of animal…wait…" She paused again, and swore she heard humming. "Animals don’t sing. Listen!"

Anastasia cupped a hand over her ear, and sure enough, she heard a soft voice humming an old lullaby.

"That is a person!" she gasped. "But Jack…your father, I mean…sad there wasn’t another house for at least three miles!"

Mac gulped…perhaps it was the ghosts of her dead grandparents! She grinned. "Come on," she encouraged, and Anastasia gulped.

"You’re not going to follow it!"

Mac nodded. "‘Course I am! Not backing out, are you, Anastasia?" She gave her friend a mischievous grin, and Anastasia sighed.

"No…all right, all right. Let’s go, then."

The girls moved very quietly towards where they’d heard the noise, and stopped dead in their tracks. A girl, about Mac’s age, crouched by the river. She was filling buckets with water, and watching her reflection in the ripples. The girl had white blonde hair pulled halfway back with an old ribbon, and wore a plain, rust-colored dress and black boots. They saw a white bonnet lying on the grass beside her, its flaps blowing in the breeze.

Mac and Anastasia stared at each other, wondering where on earth the girl had come from!

Mac swallowed nervously, and took a step towards the stranger. "Excuse me," she said, and the girl shrieked with alarm, lost her balance, and tumbled right into the river. Mac and Anastasia cried out in horror, and dashed towards the bank. Thankfully, the river was narrow enough that the girl was merely sitting on the rocks, the entire bottom half of her dress soaked to the skin. She wiped drops out of her eyes and was sputtering.

"Are you all right?" Mac asked, hopping into the water as Anastasia protested.

The girl yelled again, scrambling backwards. "Who are you…what are you?" she gasped. "Are you a ghost? I’ve never seen one, but I’ve heard there are spirits in the woods!"

Mac looked at Anastasia, whose face was very white, and smirked. "Of course I’m not a ghost," she said. "I’m just as alive as you! Feel my hand, see?" She stretched out her fingers, and the stranger hesitated, though felt her hand as instructed.

"Oh, how disappointing," she admitted, and Mac blinked. "I was hoping to meet a ghost. But botheration, look at my dress! Mother is going to tan my hide when I return home!"

Mac bit her lip. "I’m terribly sorry to have startled you," she apologized. "Are you hurt?" The two of them climbed back up the bank, and the girl looked at her.

"No," she replied. "Might I ask who you are, though? I’ve never seen a soul in these parts for ages!"

Mac smiled and stood. "I’m Mac Dawson," she explained. "And this is my best friend, Anastasia. She’s staying with me until after Christmas."

The girl’s mouth opened wide with shock, and for a moment, she looked ready to faint.

"Have I said something wrong?" Mac asked, biting her lip, and the girl shook her head.

"What did you say your name was?" she asked, and Mac blinked.

"Mac Dawson," she repeated, and the girl swallowed hard.

"I don’t believe it," she gasped. "My grandparents are Dawsons! Anna and Simon Dawson."

"What?" Mac cried. "You…"

"Where do you come from? Oh, I’m rude, aren’t I? I’m Rebekah Marsch," she greeted.

"I come from a farm just about a mile that way," Mac explained, pointing. "Goodness, this is a surprise!"

"Not Isabella Dawson’s farm!" Rebekah exclaimed, and Anastasia had to stifle a burst of giggles at the expression on Mac’s face.

"That’s my grandmother!" Mac exclaimed.

"Then Anna Dawson is my great-grandmother," Rebekah explained. "My mother is her daughter’s daughter, which would make me your cousin!"

"Oh, dear," Mac breathed, holding a hand to her forehead. "I think I might faint."

"Please don’t," Rebekah begged. "It’s not all that bad, truly. How long have you lived here? Aunt Izzy died years ago, and their farm has been abandoned for ages!"

Mac gulped. "Not very long," she explained. "We moved here in April, actually. I live with my father, my stepmother, my stepsister, and our farmhand, Michael."

"Do you know what happened with Isabella?" Rebekah asked. "I’m sure you do, if your father had any sense!"

Mac stared. "Of course he does," she retorted. "I know her mother disowned her because she married a man who wasn’t Amish. Then their barn caught fire when my father was fifteen, and they were in it."

Rebekah nodded. "Yes, that’s right. And you know why your last name is Dawson, don’t you?"

Mac blinked. "Um…"

"You see, your father would have taken his your grandfather’s last name, Hallway, but Grandma Izzy refused to change her last name, even though she was disowned. She was too proud of us to be rid of our name entirely, despite how devastated she was. She had a feeling that her mother would understand things in time, though it was too late to reconcile when she died."

"You know, my father did say he kept his mother’s last name," Mac nodded in agreement. "It was actually originally hyphenated, Hallway-Dawson, but he just kept Dawson, because it was simpler. And he liked it a lot more."

"Right! And that’s why you’re a Dawson, then." Rebekah nodded.

"They won’t want to see me, I’m sure," Mac replied. "Your great-grandmother, that is."

Rebekah took her arm. "Oh, no, that’s not true at all! Great-grandmother was devastated after Aunt Izzy’s death. She felt terribly guilty," she exclaimed. "She’ll adore you. I just know it. You’ll have to come and see us! In fact, why don’t you come with me now?"

Mac and Anastasia stared at each other…the new information was overwhelming, and Mac wasn’t certain if she could bear it all.

"We ought to be getting back, truly," she said, and Anastasia nudged her shoulder.

"Oh, do come, please," Rebekah begged. "We’re not very far at all…just beyond those trees there. You’ll get to meet my parents and my four brothers and three sisters. Also, Uncle Joseph and Aunt Dora, and their children Elizabeth, Timothy, and Jonah. Jonah is a great brat, so please do ignore him if he teases you. He teases girls all the time," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Then there’s Uncle Harold and Aunt Martha and Thomas, William, and Annabelle. My brothers and sisters are Sarah, Susana, and Josephine, and my brothers are Adam, Peter, and Jeremiah. My parents are Abraham and Margaret, or Maggie. You’ll learn all of their names soon enough; we are all living together because it is harvest time, and we need all of the help we can get!"

Mac’s eyes were very wide, and Anastasia quickly grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t faint dead away.

"I suppose…" Mac gulped. "I suppose we could come for a little while. But my father will be back soon, and worried if we are gone for too long. I’m afraid we already are in trouble for taking our horses out for a ride without permission."

Rebekah giggled. "Oh, dear," she said. "Well, come on, then."

"Might I help you carry one of those pails?" Anastasia asked, and Mac grinned…Anastasia was becoming a regular farm girl.

"That would be lovely," Rebekah replied, and nodded her thanks when Anastasia picked it up. "Come along, then…follow me. I daresay, this will be quite a surprise!"

And it certainly was. Mac and Anastasia watched with awe as they came upon the two story house beyond the edge of the woods. A great field stretched for miles and miles, filled with wheat and corn. They could see a horse and a plow moving in the distance, and when they came upon the house and the barn, they saw all sorts of animals running about. Horses, dogs, cats, chickens, ducks, goats, and a great cow that caused Anastasia to scream and nearly drop the pail when it gave a loud "Moo!"

There were people all over the place, as well, including a young lad sitting on the porch. He had a head of curly, flaming red hair and a face full of freckles.

"Who are they?" he asked, pointing a finger at the two strangers.

"Josiah," Rebekah panted, "should you not be milking Dolly?"

"I ain’t doin’ nothing you say," Josiah snapped, and Rebekah glared at him.

"You mean I am not," she corrected. "I see you have been neglecting your lessons, too."

"Oh, bugger off!" Josiah snapped. "Girls are stupid. And your new friend looks like a chipmunk!" He gave a loud laugh and bolted away, leaving Mac and Anastasia watching after him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh!" Rebekah stamped her foot. "He is a holy terror!"

"He reminds me of my stepsister." Mac giggled as she and Anastasia followed Rebekah towards the barn entrance, where two middle-aged men were raking out the stalls. They had dark hair, and one had a beard growing.

"Peter!" Rebekah cried, and the older-looking of the two boys smirked.

"There you are," he said coolly. "It’s about time, too."

"I wasn’t that long," Rebekah retorted. "And you’ll never in a million years guess who these two are!"

"I apologize if our sister has been bothersome," Peter told Mac.

"No," Mac insisted. "She hasn’t. It’s a pleasure to meet you," she said, after shaking both of their hands.

"Go on and tell them who you are," Rebekah encouraged, and Mac swallowed, feeling as though she were going to be ill.

"Mac Dawson, sir," she replied, and they were silent.

"Excuse me?" The boy whom Mac hadn’t been introduced to yet spoke. "You’re who?"

"She’s our cousin, Jeremiah!" Rebekah exclaimed excitedly. "She and her father are Isabella’s family! Her father is Aunt Izzy’s son!"

"You’re joking!" Peter cried, and he seized Mac’s hand firmly, shaking it. "You’ve no idea what a pleasure it is," he said. "We’ve been hoping to come in contact with Aunt Izzy’s side. Won’t Grandma Anna and Grandfather Simon be surprised…they’re both inside. Much too old to do very much, and becoming rather deaf, I’m afraid."

"They’re both ninety four," Rebekah explained, and Anastasia gasped.

"And who are you, dear?" Jeremiah asked, and Anastasia jumped.

"Oh," Mac replied, "this is my friend, Anastasia. She’s staying with us for a while."

Both boys bowed their heads to her in greeting, and Anastasia curtsied back, letting Jeremiah take her pail. "Rebekah, bring them to the house. Mother is inside, helping Aunt Dora with the baking."

"All right," Rebekah replied, and took Mac’s hand, practically pulling her along.

Anastasia had to run to keep up with them, nearly tripping over a stray tabby cat who was chasing after a toad near the house. "You do have a lot of animals," she said, and Rebekah looked at her.

"Don’t you?" she asked.

"No," Mac replied.

"But I thought you lived on a farm, too," Rebekah pointed out, and Mac smiled.

"Well, we have horses, but that’s it. I’m afraid my father’s allergic to everything else."

"Oh." Rebekah wet her lips, and they entered the house at last.

What happened next was a whirl of activity; Mac was pulled into rib-crushing hugs by her aunts and uncles, and it took a few shouts of explanation before her great-grandparents understood who she was.

"You do look so very much like my Izzy," Anna said, pinching Mac’s cheek--a gesture she hated, and put up with more often than she liked when she came in contact with Anastasia’s family--gently. "Your eyes especially, my dear. And do tell me about your father. I do not know much about him; we thought him dead."

"Well, he almost did die several times," Mac replied, after she and Anastasia were forced to sit down and have cups of tea and fresh biscuits. They were not particularly hungry, but ate anyway to be polite. "He left town right after the fire, and traveled all over the United States and Europe. He met my mother in Paris…she was a ballerina for the Imperial family of Russia, and was performing for the Empress Marie. Mother died when I was born, and I was looked after by my Aunt Olivia for a few years until my father came back for me." She continued on about how he got the position working for the Tsar of Russia…and when she introduced Anastasia, everyone was silent with shock.

"Oh, don’t please," Anastasia begged. "Please don’t treat me differently."

"You have had quite an experience, my dear," Anna breathed, and Mac swallowed.

"Yes, but that’s not all of it," she replied, and the women looked at each other, amused.

"My father nearly died of pneumonia when he was working at the palace, so the Tsar sent us…the three of us…back to America on the Titanic. It sank barely four days out of England," Mac said, and there was a great gasp from the crowd, who had suddenly formed, to Mac’s surprise…Rebekah’s father had come in, and dropped his things immediately when they told him who Mac was. "And he married my stepmother, Rose. He’s in town now, looking for work, and my stepmother’s at home."

"He must come and see us," Rebekah’s mother, Margaret, said eagerly, and Mac frowned.

"Oh, well…I’m afraid he can’t," she replied, and they were confused.

"He’s allergic to animals," Anastasia pointed out. "And I’m afraid being around the farm would bother him too much."

"I see," Anna said. "Well, we must come and see you, then."

"That would be lovely! Though I daresay I ought to warn him first." Mac giggled as Peter lifted her into his arms. "Allow us to drive you back," he offered, and Anastasia, who had been beaming the entire time, nodded.

"Oh, yes, please!" she said, and Mac grinned.

"I would like that very much," she said, and Abraham Marsch ordered Josiah and William to go and hitch up the buggy.

"This has been a wonderful visit indeed," Aunt Dora said, kissing both of Mac’s cheeks, and, after Mac was on the ground, Rebekah wrapped her arms around her cousin in a great hug.

"We’ll be good friends, I am quite sure!" she said.

"I hope so," Mac replied, and looked at Anastasia, who was talking with Simon, and having to repeat everything she said at least twice. "Good-bye!" she called once the buggy was ready, and Peter peeked in to let them know.

"Good-bye!" the group called, waving anxiously as the two girls were helped into the buggy, both waving through the window.

The ride back to the Dawson farm was very strange indeed; Mac felt as though she were living in a dream. Michael was the first to see them approach, and was stunned when the two Amish men helped them out.

"Is my father home yet?" Mac asked, hoping she and Anastasia hadn’t been too long.

"No," Michael replied. "Who are…"

"We shall see you soon, then." Peter and William kissed both girls, and, after nodding their greeting to Michael, rode away. When they were gone, Michael turned to Mac again.

"Excuse me," he added, "but what was that all about?"

Mac was grinning from ear to ear. "Come on! Let us go inside! Do I have quite a story to tell you!" She grabbed his hand and, before he could protest, dragged him back into the house.

Chapter Four
Stories