After I’ve stopped crying with relief and hugging my cousin/rescuer, Tova, she shouts to her husband of forty-five years, who’s sitting serenely in the driver’s seat, reading a newspaper. “Manny! Open the trunk!”

        I am reminded of one of my favorite jokes ever: Little Manny comes home from Hebrew school play auditions, and his mother asks, “Well? Did you get a part?”

        “Yes!” replies little Manny. “I am playing the part of a Jewish husband!”

        His mother frowns and says, “You march yourself back to that school right this minute and tell them you want a SPEAKING part!”

        Tova escorts me to the trunk of my brand new car, and there lies a gleaming white trunk-sized suitcase, replete with a handle and wheels.

        “This should be everything you need,” she tells me. “I took the liberty of adding a few extras to make my sweet Rachelle smile.”

        “I love you so much,” I say. “And you know I will NEVER forget this kindness.”

        “I know. Just pay it forward, Sweetheart. You’re always so good about that.”

        We’re about to start another round of hugs when Tova’s ringleted friend approaches.

        “OHHH! MYYYY! GAWWWWWWWD!” she gushes. “I cannot believe I am actually getting to meet youuuuuu! Tova talks about you ALLLLLL. THE. TIIIIIIIIIIIME!”

        I am already cringing at her syntax. People who draw out their words make me want to shake them.

        “Remember meeeee?” Her voice is extra loud and exuberant. “Jane Babies? We met last weeeeeeek when you were visiting Tovaaaaaa?” She splays her arms wide for emphasis and pushes her face up close to mine, with her eyebrows raised high and her mouth open clownishly wide.

        I know there is no way in the world I’d have been able to forget meeting her, yet nothing is registering. I smile as graciously as I can muster and say, “I’m so sorry, Jane; I must be having a Senior Moment!”

        “Noooooo! You remember! I was on Zoom with Tova, and you were heading into the kitchennnnnn?”

        It was a less-than-one-second viewing, and no introductions were exchanged.

        “Afterward, I said to Tova, ‘Tova! Your cousin looks like a movie starrrrrr!’ And that’s when she told me about FanStory and how you and Gretchen – who I just met, by the way, and is she HILARRRRRRRIOUS! – were on your way to the FanStory International Convention in Jersey. So, just like that, I joined FanStory, too, so I would get to meet you!”

        I am suddenly feeling so unbearably queasy.

        “Wait. You’re going to the convention, too?” I ask.

        “Yes! When Tova told me about you getting stranded here and how she and Manny were coming to rescue you, I said, ‘Well, Tova! This is PERRRRRRRFECT! I’ll go with you to rescue them, and then I’ll hitch a ride the rest of the way to Jersey!’”

        “Oh BOYYYYY!” I say with a clenched faux smile then turn to give Tova dead eyes. I watch her register at once that I am no longer indebted to her.

        “Well, Manny and I need to get back to Baltimore,” she says quickly. “I hope the rest of your trip goes smoothly.” She gives me another tight hug and whispers “She does not take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m so, so sorry.” She lets me go then and calls over her shoulder, “I love you, Rachelle.”

        Back in my room, I open my vast new trunk and am mesmerized at all the sartorial treasures Tova has bestowed. I choose a cherry red one with a cinched waist, full skirt and scalloped hemline. There’s a wide black belt and black-and-red high heels to accessorize and THE cutest black beret with a red ostrich plume. My heart sings.

        Rebekah stands at my open doorway with a look that’s an amalgam of excitement and trepidation.

        “Having doubts?” I ask her.

        “Not doubts,” she says. “Just some guilt. Solomon and Simeon seem sad and worried, and Helene is trying to be gracious, but her eyes are so sad.”

        “I know,” I say.

        “I think she’s worried I’ll fall for an Englisher like my mamm did.”

        “It’s her job to worry, Rebekah. She loves you and never wants anything bad to befall you. But she also knows Gretchen and I will never let that happen. It’ll be fine, Sweetie. The pain you’re all feeling is because there’s so much love between you all.”

        Two huge tears roll down her cheeks.

        “But you’ll be growing the gift G-d gave you, and that’s important.”

        “Tell me again about this woman I’ll be staying with,” says Rebekah.

        “Her name is Maria Antinerelli. She lives in Babylon, New York, which is a suburb of Long Island. Her grandmother was a New York City opera diva, who was MY teacher. Then, in her teens and twenties, Maria studied opera from me, and now you’re going to study under her tutelage! She does this as a business – trains teenagers while they live there in her home. But since it’s summer right now, she has no students there. So, this will be perfect. You will be able to get her complete and total undivided attention.”

        “Does she know I’m Amish?”

        “I will be speaking with her once we’re on the road and I can plug my phone into the port in my car.”

        I head back to my suitcase. “That reminds me,” I say. “Tova brought me an extra phone, but I don’t need it. So, this will be yours. I’ll teach you how to use it once we’re on our way.”

        Rebekah gapes at the modern-looking device and blinks several times.

        “All becoming pretty real now, right?”

        She nods, and I’m sure it’s so I don’t hear the tears that would be the undertow in her speaking voice.

        “I just want to say that the woman who came with my cousin? She’s coming along, too. She actually invited herself, and I’m pretty sure she’s odd.” I give Rebekah a wry look then add, “I know what you’re thinking: this from the woman who, just two days ago, came from the outhouse with corn cobs in her hair?”

        This gets her giggling.

        I zip up my trunk, and we head downstairs. Helene, Hannah, Ezra and the boys are all waiting in the living room to hug Rebekah one last time. I watch them each surreptitiously press a thick fold of bills into her palm then head outside to give them their privacy and put my suitcase into the trunk of my car.

       Gretchen meets me en route and, like a ventriloquist in a library, whispers, “That nut job is going with us!”

      “I know,” I answer back with my own motionless ventriloquist lips. “I had no idea. I guess this means that the detour continues.”

        “IIIIIIIIIIIIII CALLLLLL SHOTGUNNNNNNNN!” we hear the nut job shout.