Rebecca gleaned back at the shore, one last time. A slight twinge of fear entered her breast. Like Lot’s wife, she swore not to look back, and just like Lot’s wife, she broke that promise. Ivanhoe. Yes, Ivanhoe. She could not help but admit it, she had fallen in love with him. But she had spoken the truth to Rowena, Ivanhoe’s heart belonged to her and to her alone. Rebecca never had a chance. Just like Bois-Gilbert never had a chance with Rebecca.
She let out a sigh. His love for her may have been true, but she could not love him. What he offered her was something she could never accept, even if she were to love him in return. No, what she sought only seemed to be in Ivanhoe’s hands, and that had been given to the Lady Rowena, a lady who quite deserved it. Rebecca wished them no ill, in fact, she muttered a prayer, asking God to rain blessings upon the couple. After everything they had done for her and her father, they well deserved it. There was still just the twinge of longing, that Ivanhoe had been hers.
England’s shores finally disappeared from view, but Rebecca looked out at the horizon a few moments more. She did not even look up when someone came and stood next to her. She already knew who it was.
“Your heart still lies in England?” her father asked softly.
She let out a sigh filled with the yearning of her heart. “Yes, Father, I fear it is. And, and I do not know how to get it back.”
“Perhaps you will, with time. Putting distance between yourself and your object is a good first step. Time will handle the rest.”
Rebecca turned and smiled at her father. “Is that how you were able to deal with Mother’s passing?”
“That, and I had you to care for. And I still do, my daughter.” He hugged her and kissed her forehead. “Come, looking back will do you no good. It is time to move forward.”
“Yes, Father,” she whispered.
She let her father lead her away from the ship’s railing, but she couldn’t help sneaking one last look at the horizon. Her attention was soon captured by the whispering of the sailors. They weren’t outright displeased with them, but they weren’t actively trying to hide it either. Isaac and Rebecca had reached the door of their cabin when a young sailor passing by stopped and told the others to be quiet or he would have them flogged. He turned to the Jews and gave a little bow.
“I apologize for their sharp tongues. Should you ever have any other problems with them, come see me. I will whip them into shape.”
“Thank you kindly, sir,” said Isaac, the amazement evident in his voice.
“Yes, thank you,” echoed Rebecca.
The young man gave another bow. “I am at your service.” He straightened. “If I may be so bold as to invite you to dine with me tonight?”
“We would be honored, sir,” said Isaac.
The young man pressed Rebecca’s hand to his lips. “Then until tonight.” He turned to walk away, but paused at an exclamation from Rebecca.
“Excuse me, sir, but we haven’t gotten your name.”
“It’s Edward, milady,” he said with a bow. He straightened up with a smile and walked away.
“Edward, a nice name,” Rebecca said almost absent-mindedly.
“Yes, and such nice manners.” Isaac opened the door. “Shall we rest until dinner then?”
“Yes.” Rebecca followed her father into the room and laid down, but her thoughts turned to the events of the day. In particular the new acquaintance.
“Maybe, just maybe, my heart will return faster than expected,” she whispered.
Yet her love for Ivanhoe would never be forgotten. But perhaps another love would burn brighter, and be returned.