Where Grace Abides (17 page)

 
22
 
B
ROKEN
T
RUST

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out…

R
OBERT
F
ROST

F
rom her kitchen window, Rachel could see Samuel Beiler pull his buggy off the road and step out, then start briskly up the path toward the house.

She drew a long breath, hoping this unexpected visit wasn't going to be another in his ongoing efforts to convince her that she ought to marry him. Her emotions were still raw from the shock and aftermath of her dear friend Phoebe's death. The last thing she felt like dealing with right now was the pressure of Samuel's persistence.

It would be all too easy to be impatient with him at a time like this. While his tireless attempts to court her might be pleasing, even flattering, to some of the other women in the community, for Rachel they had become awkward and wearisome.

Especially since the only man she would even consider marrying was forbidden to her.

Even so she made up her mind that she must strive for patience with Samuel. Although he often irritated her with his stringent judgments and overbearing manner, she supposed he meant well. Certainly she had no desire to antagonize him or hurt his feelings.

Quickly she ran her hands down the sides of her dress, then smoothed her
kapp,
waiting for his knock on the door.

“My sister Rebekah thought you might enjoy these with your supper.”

Samuel stood just inside the kitchen as he handed Rachel a pan of fragrant honey buns.

“Oh, they smell wonderful, Samuel,” Rachel said, taking the pan from him and setting it on the table. “Be sure to thank Rebekah for me.”

“Well, we know how hard these past few days have been for you, what with Phoebe's passing and all. Just wanted to let you know we're praying for you and for Susan also.”

This was a different Samuel from the one she was used to. In place of the stern expression and ramrod straight posture common to him, he actually seemed a softer, kinder man, more relaxed and genuinely concerned for her. Was the bad trouble that had come to the People having a softening effect on him? Maybe she had misjudged the intent of his visit after all.

“Thank you, Samuel. It's true that these days have been difficult—for all the People but especially for Malachi and his family.”

“
Ja,
of course,” he said. “But I know you and Phoebe were awful close. I just wanted to see how you're doing.”

“That's kind of you, really. Keeping busy seems to help.”

He pointed to one of the kitchen chairs at the table. “May I sit?”

“Oh, yes! I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Please, sit down. Would you like me to fix you a cup of tea?”

“No, no. We had dinner at Rebekah's house today. I must say her tea isn't so
gut
as yours, but I drank more than I should have anyway.”

Rachel wished she didn't feel so awkward around this man, who
had actually been a good friend to her and her family through the years. Most likely her uneasiness stemmed from the awareness of his interest in her. Whatever the reason, she was never altogether comfortable with Samuel, never totally accepting of what he said on the surface as opposed to what his unstated meaning might be. Sometimes it was an effort simply to be polite.

All the same, she
would
be polite.

“I haven't seen Malachi since the funeral service,” Samuel said. “Is he getting along all right?”

“I took supper to him last evening. He's very sad, of course, and a little lost. He and Phoebe were so close.”

Samuel nodded. “Such a good marriage they had. To lose our life's partner is a very hard thing.” He gave a long, heavy sigh and stared down at his hands. Rachel almost got the feeling that his morose words and manner might be an attempt to play on her sympathy.

Now
that
really was unkind of her. She knew what it was like to lose a beloved spouse. Was she so hardhearted she couldn't offer him at least a little understanding?

“Yes, a very hard thing,” she said gently. “How long has it been since Martha went to be with the Lord now?”

He raised his head and fastened a strange look on her. “A long time. As you know, she died giving birth to our Joe, and he's going on eight years now.” He paused. “But of course we have no way of knowing that Martha
is
with the Lord God. We can only hope that she is.”

“Oh, Samuel, surely you don't doubt that she is! Martha was such a fine Christian woman—a good person and a wonderful wife and mother.”

He nodded still watching her. “She was all that, but it would be arrogant of me to assume that her goodness won her a place in heaven. Only the Lord God knows where each of us will spend eternity, based upon how we live our lives here on earth.”

Rachel hadn't believed that particular view of heaven for a long
time now, thanks, at least in part, to Phoebe and Malachi helping to open God's Word and the truth to her and Eli and others over the years—that it was God's grace that saved them, not any works on their part.

Samuel's gaze sharpened. “I suppose you know that there was talk about Phoebe and Malachi studying the Scriptures on their own, without guidance. You and Eli being such good friends with them, I hope they didn't change your belief in the Old Ways with their forbidden interpretations of the Holy Word.”

There was no way Rachel was going to get into this discussion with him. She knew how extremely set in his opinions Samuel was, especially with his being a deacon and all.

“There's always talk,” she said with a shrug. “I try not to listen to gossip.”

He didn't reply right away. When he finally spoke, it was with what Rachel had come to think of as his
deacon's
tone of voice. “A good idea. But as a deacon, I have to be aware of what's going on among the People. It's no secret that some so-called ‘Bible studies' are taking place without the approval of the leadership, indeed have been going on for some time. That kind of practice goes strictly against the
Ordnung.
” He paused, then added, “As you know, Rachel.”

She said nothing. When Samuel was speaking as a deacon, Rachel usually gave little input into a discussion. Sometimes it was a tricky balance as to when she could safely carry on a friendly conversation with him, as opposed to those times when she knew she'd only be inviting rancor if she tried to make him see her point of view. It seemed easier to let him have his say with no comment from her.

As quickly as he had assumed his stand as a church leader, he now returned to his former role as her friend and neighbor. “I hope Susan is getting along as well as can be expected.”

Rachel nodded. “Mamma is strong. And she stays busy, keeping up with the farm and all—and what with the wedding not so far off now.”

“Oh,
ja,
that's right. She and Dr. Sebastian.” He ran a hand across his chin. “Ordinarily this could never have happened—a marriage between Plain and
Englisch.
But Bishop Graber thought an exception was in order for the doctor.”

Rachel looked at him. “But Dr. Sebastian will no longer be
Englisch
when he and Mamma wed. Soon he'll be saying his vows and joining church. He'll be Amish then.”

Was it a glint of disapproval that flicked in Samuel's eyes?

She wasn't about to carry this any farther. “So, how are your boys, Samuel?”

Again he let out a long breath. “It's hard for them, of course, with no mother.”

Well, she'd walked right into that, hadn't she?

“It's especially difficult for Joe, his being the youngest,” he went on. “Noah's twelve now, and a big help with the work around the farm. He's my quiet one. But Aaron,” he said shaking his head, “he worries me. He's in his
rumspringa,
you know—a foolish idea and such a treacherous time for our young people. I wish we gave them far less freedom than we do. I can only hope he uses good sense and doesn't decide to join the
Englisch
world.”

“I'm sure you don't have to worry about that, Samuel. You have good sons. They'll be all right.”

He regarded her with a gaze of such intensity that Rachel felt suddenly ill at ease.

“They're good boys,
ja.
I've done my best with them. But even good children need a mother.”

When Rachel made no reply, he cleared his throat, saying, “As you know, Rachel, I've always hoped that you would fill that role.”

“Samuel…please, not now…”

“I'd be a good husband to you, Rachel. If you're worried about the years between us, we know each other well enough that age shouldn't matter. And I've always believed that a strong friendship
is the best foundation for a good marriage. And you and I, we're friends,
ja
?”

“Of course, but—”

“Eli's been gone plenty long enough for you to take a husband, Rachel, don't you think?”

“Time has nothing to do with it—”

“Then why do you hesitate? Why do you prefer to be alone instead of becoming my wife?”

“Samuel—I've already explained this to you. More than once in fact. I don't…feel that way about you. I can't marry a man simply because I don't want to be alone.”

Abruptly he stood, his chair scraping the floor. “It's because of that
auslander,
isn't it?”

Startled by the sudden change in him, the roughness of his tone, and the deep red stain that crossed his features, Rachel fumbled for words but found none.

“Oh, I know about
Gant!”
He spat out the name like an obscenity. “I know all about the two of you.”

Rachel felt the blood rush to her head in an almost dizzying wave. “What do you mean?”

“I know Gant went to the bishop and sought permission to convert to our faith. Because of
you
—so he could marry you! And I know you must have agreed to marry him, or he would never have gone so far as to approach the bishop! Not to mention the times you've been seen together.”

His mouth twisted in disgust as he punched the palm of one hand with his fist. “How could you take up with an outsider like that, a man you scarcely know, when you won't so much as give me the time of day?”

He glowered down at her, his expression so angry Rachel had to fight against feeling intimidated. She got to her feet, somehow managing to meet his gaze with a level look of her own.

“Bishop Graber told you this?”

“Of course, he
told
me. He was outraged at the nerve of the man, just as I was. Do you know how this makes me feel, Rachel? I've waited for you for years, putting up with your excuses and your delays, only to find out that you've indulged in a forbidden relationship with an
Englischer
!”

Caught totally off guard, shocked—and furious—at the idea that the bishop would divulge what was meant to be held in confidence, Rachel groped for control. Clenching her fists at her sides, she refused to back down, even though his angry tirade had badly thrown her off balance.