Jacob's Way (33 page)

“I'm afraid it is. Let me tell you about it.” Jacob began speaking of how it had all begun with his talks with Sam. “The more I studied the New Testament,” he said quietly, “the more I recognized that this Jesus seemed to fit so many prophesies that I had pondered over in the Law and in the prophets. Sam read me one verse out of the New Testament. I can't remember the location, but I remember the words. It said, ‘To him give all the prophets witness, that through his name whosoever believeth in him shall receive remission of sins.' That's not exactly right, but the first part is. ‘To him gave all the prophets witness.' It's true, Reisa! Jesus was born in Bethlehem exactly where everyone expected, and he was born of a virgin, exactly as Isaiah foretold: ‘A virgin shall be with child.'”

“But do you really believe that Jesus was born of a virgin?”

“I would not have believed it some time ago, but after looking at his whole life—how he poured himself out for all people—I firmly believe it now.”

Reisa had never been so confused. “And do you believe that he rose from the dead?”

Jacob did not answer for a moment. “I have struggled with this, and it is this one thing that has made me a believer in Jesus. There have been other prophets, other men claiming to be the Messiah. There will be many more. There have been other religious leaders such as Buddha and Mohammed, but all those men
died
. You can go to their tombs and say they're there, but if you went to the tomb where Jesus was placed, it would be empty. I believe that with all of my heart.”

Reisa felt a great fear, somehow. This thing that had happened to her grandfather went against all she had ever learned. She remembered all of the stories she had heard of Christians persecuting the Jews, but when she brought that up, Jacob said, “Jesus is not responsible for what his followers do. I believe he is the Prince of Peace that the prophet foretold. His followers may betray him. Indeed, one called Judas sold him into the hands of his enemies.”

“Yes, I read that in the little book of John.”

“Judas was wrong, and others have been wrong. But that does not change what Jesus is.”

Reisa had never seen her grandfather more excited. Still she was afraid. “Are you sure,
Zaideh?
Somehow I feel this will separate us.”

“No, that must never happen! I cannot force you to take this new way, Reisa. No one can force another to do this, but I tell you with all honesty—I have peace in my heart for the first time in my life. Every day, for a time after I called on God in the name of Jesus, I expected to wake up and find this peace gone. But it never is! It's there every morning. It will be there until I die. This way—it is the right way.”

Reisa began to tremble. Jacob reached out and took her hand in his. His hands were frail and weak while hers were strong. But the strength was in his spirit, not in his hands. “This will not make me love you any less—indeed, I love you more than I ever did. I seem to love all people more. I don't know why that is. Sam says that when one becomes a Christian, the Holy Spirit of God comes within him and puts within him those things that I've always longed for—love and joy and peace. But never be afraid that I will love you any less.”

He rose, and Reisa rose with him. He kissed her tenderly, then she asked, “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No, I have not.”

“Why not,
Zaideh?
”

“I can't say. At first I was cautious—and I'm still cautious. But every day I read the New Testament, and more and more I am drawn to Jesus. There was never anyone like him, Reisa. Never—never!”

Reisa watched as her grandfather left, and then she sat down on the bed, her legs weak. She did not know what all this meant, but she knew her grandfather would not deceive her. He would not deceive himself either. This thing that had happened to him was real, and she knew that the peace he had was not feigned.

She sat there for a long time, and Boris crawled into her lap. She stroked his black fur and finally shook her head. Getting up and putting Boris down, she began to undress. She put on her gown, got into bed, and Boris came to nuzzle at her side. She put her arm around him and held him, and he began to purr. For some reason tears came to her eyes. She did not know why, but the news that her grandfather was forsaking the old way and turning to a new way frightened her badly.

She prayed, “Oh, God, take care of me! Take care of my grandfather! I can't do anything but beg you for this, oh great Creator of the Universe!”

Twenty-Four

W
hat's wrong with you, Miss Reisa?” Sam asked. “You look plumb down in the mouth.”

Reisa and Sam were washing the dishes up after breakfast. The others had gone outside to do their chores, and Jacob was up in his room reading the Bible.

“Down in the mouth? What does that mean?”

“Why, it means you look like you feel bad.”

Reisa looked at Sam and said, “My grandfather is changing, Sam. I'm worried about him.”

Sam Hall nodded and studied her, a fond and almost fatherly expression in his eyes. “Why, he's all right. Matter of fact, he looks a lot healthier than he did when you two first come here.”

“Oh, he's better physically, but he's not the man I grew up with. He took care of me, Sam, when I had nobody at all. You don't know what it means to be a Jew. We don't have much, and my people have suffered terribly—but at least we knew who we were. Now I'm afraid. My grandfather”—her voice trembled—“he talks about Jesus all the time.”

Hall put his hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft as a woman's as he spoke, and his eyes were gentle. “I wish you could see this like I do. It's hard to see change, but this is a good change, Miss Reisa. Jesus makes people feel better, not worse.”

Reisa did not answer but dropped her head. She wanted to weep, but knew that she must not. The fear that had come to her was like nothing she'd ever experienced, and as she stared down at the soapy dish water, she wished desperately they'd never left their homeland.

The rising sun climbed steadily, glowing bright, and from far away came a thin cry of a dog. “Thet dog's on a trail,” Sam remarked. “And yore grandpa's on a trail, too. He's after God, and anytime a feller gets after God, he'll find him. I reckon you'll find Jesus one day.”

Reisa shook her head and dried off her hands. She was fond of Sam, but she wanted to hear no more of Jesus. Going to her room, she shut the door and flopped onto her bed. She clung to Boris, who purred and touched her face with a soft pad.

“You're the same, Boris—I wish
Zaideh
was!”

Sam went outside, where Ben was repairing a fence. He stood over him, saying abruptly, “Ben, Miss Reisa's havin' a hard time.” Ben looked at him with surprise. “Why, things are going well for us, Sam.”

“Maybe in some ways—but thet girl is worried.”

“About what?”

“She's afraid of whut's happenin' to her grandpa.”

Ben frowned and gave the barbed wire a tug, then drove a staple in before he answered. “He seems fine to me. Matter of fact, I've been glad to see how well he looks.”

“It ain't his health she's worried about.”

“What then?”

“Ben, I ain't ever pestered you with religion, but I'm curious. You ever been saved?”

A long silence greeted this question, and finally Ben said, “When I was young, I thought I was. But then everything changed. The war just about tore me up inside, Sam. Guess it did that to lots of men. I tried to follow the Lord, but I guess I saw too much killing. I couldn't see God in any of it.”

“Lots of fellers had that problem.”

Ben did not respond for several seconds, but finally he shook his head. “After the war, I was just crazy, Sam. Took to drinking and running with a wild bunch. It nearly killed my folks—but somehow I just couldn't get on the right track.”

“It's not too late, Ben,” Sam said quietly.

Ben turned to face the smaller man squarely. “What do my wicked ways have to do with Reisa?”

“Just this—if you was right with God, Ben, I think you'd see she's hurtin'.”

Sam's flat statement took Ben hard. His lips tightened and a troubled light came to his good eye. “In that, I guess you're right, Sam. Drunks don't care about anything but themselves and getting the next drink. I'm not a drunk—don't care for liquor that much. But something's wrong with me, Sam. I don't know where God is—and I don't know what I am.”

Sam nodded slightly, and suddenly he put his one hand on Ben's shoulder. “I lost an arm and you lost an eye in the war. But we both make out right well without 'em. But when a man loses God, Ben, he can't make it.”

The pressure of Sam's hand on his shoulder warmed Ben, and he said slowly, “I guess God's not lost, Sam—so it must be me. And for a long time I've been trying to find what I had once.” He looked up at the sun wreathed in skeins of ragged clouds. Finally he whispered, “I'm sorry for Reisa, Sam. But I can't even help myself!”

Sam started to reply, but Ben turned abruptly and walked rapidly away.

For a long moment the small man watched him, then shook his head sorrowfully. “Lord, Ben's in a mess. But like he said, you ain't lost. I'd shore appreciate it, Lord, if you'd bring 'im back to the fold!”

Twenty-Five

F
rom somewhere outside in the distance, John Driver heard a voice lifted in some sort of admonition. He knew it was his servant Trask correcting his young son and smiled for a moment. Trask and Dorrie had been with his family for many years. He had given them their freedom before the Civil War as he had the rest of his slaves. Now he leaned back in his chair and thought about what a tragedy the war had been. He had said once to Jefferson Davis, “It would have been much better if the North had just paid slave owners for their investment.”

Now the house was quiet, and Driver had set apart this time every day to read and to work on his books. The books were done, and now he was reading a sermon by a British pastor—Charles Haddon Spurgeon. Spurgeon's sermon was taken from Psalms 30:5, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Driver read the sermon as he always read this minister's words, with great attention, for he had found that Spurgeon knew how to touch the heart as well as the head. For days his heart had been heavy, and now he read hungrily as Spurgeon spoke to the problem of depression:

… let us go on boldly; if the night be never so dark. The morning cometh, which is more than they can say who do not know the Lord Christ. It may be all dark now, but soon it will be light; it may be dark now, but it will soon be happiness. What matters it though “weeping may endure for a night” when “joy cometh in the morning”?

Reading these final words, John Driver shut the book and sat with his eyes closed. As always, he never wanted to be ungrateful to God. He remembered the terrible dark days of the war when all was lost, and so many of his friends had gone down to unmarked graves. He thought of the women today who had no husbands, and children who knew no fathers. He had never gotten over the loss of his son Matthew, and he felt that he never would. But as he remained still in the quietness of the room, he prayed, “Lord, I don't want to be ungrateful. You've given me so much. Help me to continually give thanks unto you…”

Even as he prayed suddenly he heard an unusual sound, small light feet running down the hall. He opened his eyes and rose as the door burst open, and the room suddenly seemed to be full of little boys.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!”

Driver's three grandsons—Johnny, David, and Robert—swarmed him. He knelt down to get on their level. Johnny was twelve, David ten, and Robert eight. He encircled them all with his arms, and his heart was lightened as he heard them all trying to talk at the same time.

“Boys, you're going to smother your grandfather!” Prudence entered the room with her husband, Martin. She was a tall, well-formed woman with auburn hair. Martin was a man in his early forties with blonde hair and blue eyes. He had served with Pickett in the war as a surgeon.

Quickly Driver peeled off the boys and went over to embrace Pru and take her kiss. He turned and shook hands with Martin. “I'm heartily glad to see you. We've missed you all so much.”

“Granddad, you promised to take us fishing,” Johnny said. Like the other boys, he had dark hair and blue eyes—almost electric eyes they were so bright.

“Yes, Grandpa. We want to go now!” Robert was by far the loudest of the trio, and now he said, “I'm going to catch the biggest fish of all.”

“Boys, your grandfather can't take you fishing right now.”

“No, but we will go this afternoon.”

“Can we see the horses?” David said. He was the scholar of the family, with a keen mind and a rather quiet personality.

Prudence said at once, “Martin, why don't you take the boys to see the horses while I help Mother with dinner?”

“All right, I'll do that. Come along, boys.” He herded them outside, and Driver stood listening until the door closed and shut off their voices.

“I'm glad to see you, Dad,” Prudence said. She patted his arm affectionately and asked, “How have you been?”

“Oh, I'm always well. And the boys look well. Good to have a doctor for a son-in-law.”

“Sit down and tell me everything you've done. It seems like it's been a year since I've been here.”

The two sat down on the small divan and talked until they caught up on the news. Finally Driver asked eagerly, “Have you and Martin talked any more about moving back to Richmond?”

“Yes, we have. A great deal, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you think there's any chance of it?”

“I think so. Neither of us like Washington. I don't think it's good for the boys to grow up in the middle of a big city.”

“We've got plenty of country left around here.” Driver smiled.

“Martin would make less money, of course.”

“Well, money's not everything.”

“No, it's not. We know that.”

“I need you here, Pru. And so does your mother.” Driver put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. He was a man who did not like to ask favors, but the words had come out almost without volition. “And I—I need my grandsons here. I miss those rascals every day.”

“I think it will work out. It will be Martin's decision, of course. He's the one that has to make the living, but I know he'd like a quieter life.” Pru looked at John Driver, studying his face. Then she said without preamble, “Ben's back, isn't he? How's he been? Have you seen him?”

Instantly Driver stiffened. He shook his head. “Yes, he's back. He's living on the other side of Richmond. I've just seen him a couple of times in passing.”

“But hasn't he been here?”

“Pru, I don't think he needs to come here.”

Prudence started to speak, then shook her head. Instead, she simply leaned over and kissed him and said, “I'll go help Mother with dinner. It's just like cooking for a regiment. Those boys eat like starved wolves.”

“All right, I'll go out and find Martin and the boys. Maybe I'll take them riding.”

Driver watched as his only daughter left the room. It felt good to have one of his children back in the house. Now, if only Matthew were still alive, and if only Ben hadn't…

No
. He shut his thoughts off. If onlys would get him nowhere. He left the room, in search of his energetic grandsons.

Prudence went at once to the kitchen, where her mother and Dorrie were busy stirring up a meal. Dorrie came over, took Pru's embrace, and said, “Them boys is gonna put a little life in this old house, Miss Pru.”

“Dorrie, we've all missed your cooking. We're going to work you to death.”

“No, you ain't. Now, you and your mama go talk. I can fix this myself.”

Pru said, “But I need to help.”

“You mind what I say! I was cookin' when you wasn't no bigger than a nubbin'. Now you 'uns get out of here.”

Marianne laughed and said, “Well, when Dorrie speaks it's done. Come along.”

The two went into the parlor, and almost at once Pru said, “Dad won't talk about Ben. What's wrong with him?”

“I don't know. You know how bitter he was over the loss of Matthew. And somehow I think he feels that it should have been Ben. I know that's a hard thing to say, but Matthew was his favorite.”

“He's bitter. I can see that.”

“Yes, he is—and it grieves me.”

“Bitterness has killed more people than bullets,” Prudence said slowly. “Dad knows that. Why can't he see what he's doing?”

“Well, the devil knows our weak points, Pru. Your father was able to put aside his bitterness toward the Yankees—but he's blind as far as Ben is concerned.” Marianne reached out and took Pru's hand. “Go see him, Pru. You two were always such good friends. He's very sad, and I don't know anyone that could cheer him up better than you.”

“All right,” Prudence agreed, nodding her head thoughtfully. “I'll go first thing in the morning.”

The trees were turning red and gold and scarlet, and Pru looked up with keen enjoyment as she drove the roan mare along the road. Winter would come soon, but now was the finest time, in her opinion, of the whole year. The air was clean and fresh, scented with the smell of burning leaves. Pru slapped the mare's flanks with the line. “Get up, Ruby! You can do better than that!”

Ruby, indeed, could do better and broke into a fast trot. She was a lively mare, but Pru was an excellent driver. This drive pleased her, for she was tired of the confines of Washington.

She had left the house immediately after breakfast and driven through Richmond, emerging on the east side. She had always liked Richmond, and now it grieved her to see the damage that had been done by the Union troops. The war had left ugly scars that would take decades to heal, but here in the country the wounds were less evident. The fields spread out on either side of the road, and from time to time she passed houses or small cabins, many of them occupied by ex-slaves. She stopped only once at a small store to ask the owner if he knew Sam Hall and Phineas Long.

“Yes, ma'am, I do. You go on down this road another two miles, take a left by the Jeffrey place. That's a big white house on the left. Take the left there, and it's another three miles on that road.”

Pru had made the turn, and now as she followed the winding road that led between cotton fields and many acres of second-growth timber, she saw a house that looked much like the clerk's description. “Come on, Ruby,” she said. “We'll find out.”

Pulling up in front of the house, she tied the lines, then got out and walked around to pat Ruby on the side of the face. “Good girl,” she said. Turning, she started toward the house, and as she did a young woman came out. She wore a scarf over her head, although her very black hair escaped in wisps.

“Yes, ma'am. Can I help you?”

“I'm looking for Ben Driver.”

The woman looked surprised and curious. “Why, this is where he lives, but he's not here. He's gone over to the neighbor's to get some mules shod. He should be back very soon. As a matter of fact, I've expected him for some time.”

Pru studied the young woman and remembered her mother's description of her. “Do you think I might wait?”

“Oh, yes. I'm Reisa Dimitri.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “I'd guess you're Ben's sister, Mrs. Rogers.”

Pru smiled. The girl was very sharp indeed. “Yes, I am, Miss Dimitri.”

“Please just call me Reisa. Everyone does.”

“Good. And I'm Pru.”

“Come inside. We could drive over to where they're doing the shoeing, but we'd probably meet them on the way. If you come inside, I can fix some refreshment.”

“Some tea or coffee or even water would be nice.”

Reisa started to turn when Sam exited from the house. He stopped and gave the visitor a keen look. When he was introduced, he said, “That hoss looks like she needs a little waterin' and maybe a little feed.”

“Would you be so kind?” Pru smiled. “She's a wonderful animal.”

“Be proud to. Come along, missy.” Sam took Ruby's lines and led her over to the trough, where he allowed her to drink.

When they stepped inside, they found Jacob and Phineas sitting at the table. “This is my grandfather, Mr. Jacob Dimitri, and Mr. Phineas Long. And this is Mrs. Rogers, Ben's sister,
Zaideh
.”

Jacob rose and bowed slightly. “It's an honor, Mrs. Rogers.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma'am.” Phineas nodded. “Excuse me, but I got some chores.”

He left the room, and Pru said to Jacob, “Please, keep your seat.”

“Yes. Sit down,
Zaideh
. And you, too, Prudence. I'll fix something.”

Prudence sat down and found herself intrigued by the pair. She had heard their basic history from her mother, but she was impressed at the gentle manners of the grandfather. She found that although his English was less than perfect, he had a sharp inquiring mind.

Soon Reisa had hot tea. As she poured it, she said, “I wish we had our samovar.”

“What's a samovar?” Pru asked curiously.