Where Grace Abides (19 page)

 
24
 
C
ONCERN FOR A
F
RIEND

Help us to help each other, Lord,
Each other's cross to bear;
Let each his friendly aid afford,
And feel his brother's care.

R
ALPH
H
ARRISON

G
ant was still working when Doc Sebastian and Susan Kanagy walked into the shop that evening.

They both looked pleased. In fact, Doc was all smiles, even if he did appear a little bedraggled.

“Well, I see Harley found you,” said Gant. “And I must say, your new assistant is a real improvement to your practice, Doc.”

Susan smiled at him, and Gant grinned back. The lady had one of those smiles you warmed to in an instant.

As did her daughter.

“I thought Mrs. Sawyer might appreciate having another woman at her side,” Doc said. “She hasn't really been here long enough to get to know many women in town. Susan's helped deliver more than one baby over the years, so I brought her along.”

“So—we
do
have a baby, then?” Gant said.

“We do,” Doc replied. “A little girl. She's a tiny one, but she seems healthy enough.”

“And Mrs. Sawyer? How's she doing?”

“Better than
Mr.
Sawyer,” Doc said dryly. “She's worn out, of course, but considering all the trouble they had on their way here, I'd say she's none the worse for wear.”

“Well, that's good. They name her yet?”

“Naomi Fay. After Mrs. Sawyer's mother, she said.”

“Pretty name.” Gant pointed to some chairs in the corner. “Sit down. I expect you're both tired.”

“Actually we came to take you to supper,” Doc said. “We
are
a bit tired, but we thought we'd get something to eat before starting home. Why don't we all go down to the boarding house and have some of Mrs. Haining's fried chicken and dumplings?”

Reluctant to intrude on the couple's time to be alone together, Gant hesitated.

“You've worked late enough,” Doc said, going to the front of the shop and turning the
Closed
sign around on the door. “Besides, you have to eat.”

Truth was Gant didn't feel he'd be very good company tonight. He'd run a gamut of emotions since his encounter with Samuel Beiler this morning, most of them dark. And Doc knew him too well to not recognize one of his sour moods.

Again he attempted to protest. “I'm actually way behind in my orders—”

“You're the only carpenter in town,” Doc said. “Of course, you're behind on your orders. Folks will wait when they haven't a choice. Come on now—we're not leaving without you.”

“Oh, all right,” Gant grumbled. Bad mood or not, he didn't feel much like being alone right now. “Just let me wash the sawdust off my hands and face and lock up in back.”

“If you'd like to go upstairs and say hello to the newest member of the Sawyer family,” said David, “I'm sure you'd be welcome.”

Gant shook his head and pushed back from the table. “I'll wait till tomorrow. I expect all three of them could do with some rest right about now.”

The proprietor, Mara Beth Haining, stopped at their table just then. “I hope you all enjoyed your meal tonight.”

After her words brought a round of enthusiasm from each of them, she leveled a small frown in Gant's direction. “I haven't seen you in a spell, Captain. Does that mean you've been disappointed in my cooking or that you're simply not eating the way you should?”

“Mrs. Haining, only an absolute fool would be disappointed in your cooking,” Gant assured her. “No, ma'am, I've just been busy, is all. You still make the best fried chicken in three counties, and your dumplings are enough to make a grown man weep.”

“And aren't you the silver-tongued rascal, though?” she teased.

Turning to Doc she asked after the new baby and her parents. “Is there anything they need yet tonight? I'll have supper sent up to them in a bit. Is there anything else I can do?”

“I told them just to let you know if they need any help at all,” Doc told her.

Mara Beth Haining was a genuine southern belle with a delightful Virginia accent. In David Sebastian's estimation, the lady possessed just the right mix of motherly attentiveness and the kind of warm, engaging informality that made her boardinghouse guests and dining room customers feel as though they had a home away from home.

She and her husband had moved to Riverhaven and opened the boardinghouse only two years before Emery Haining died of a stroke. Mara Beth, unwilling to give up what they had worked so hard to establish, had rolled up her sleeves and set herself to doing an admirable job of running one of the most successful combination inn and restaurants in southern Ohio.

Sweet-faced and matronly, she reigned as one of the few female entrepreneurs in the county. While childless, with hair as snowy
white as the immaculate shirtwaists she always wore, she mothered and hovered over every soul who came under her roof.

David liked and admired her as much as anyone in town. He also liked the young couple upstairs with the new baby and thought them fortunate to have found shelter in Mara Beth's homey establishment. Of course, Gant was to thank for that.

After she moved on, David said, “Now there's a woman who would have made an extraordinary mother. A shame, really, that she never had children of her own.”

“I think she makes up for it by taking half the town, in addition to her guests, under her wing,” Gant said. “Folks around here can't say enough good things about her.”

“Speaking of mothering,” Susan said, “some of our neighbor women have been sewing and collecting clothing for the baby. I plan to bring everything into town tomorrow morning.”

“Not alone—” David put in quickly.

“I won't be alone, David. I'll have Rachel and Fannie come with me. We'll bring some baked goods as well.”

“I could come along,” he said.

“There's no need. You're busy, and we'll manage just fine.” She paused, arching an eyebrow. “Don't fuss, David.”

Fuss? If she only knew. Truth was he didn't want to let her out of his sight. Not for a moment. If anything should happen to Susan…

He didn't allow himself to finish the thought.

“Feel free to come by the shop,” Gant offered. “In fact, maybe I could go with you? I might not feel quite so awkward that way. I confess I don't know much about paying a visit to a new baby.”

David saw the studying look Susan turned on Gant.

“Why, that's a good idea, Captain Gant,” she said. “You can help us carry some of our things, and it will give Fannie a chance to say hello to you. She'll like that.”

David was a little surprised at Susan's suggestion, but seeing the pleased expression on Gant's face, he was glad she'd offered
it. Of course, it wasn't only Fannie the captain would be looking forward to seeing.

“Do we need to stop at Rachel's and pick up Fannie?” David asked as they drove away from town after supper.

“No,” Susan said. “She's spending the night. She wanted to stay, and Rachel said she could use her help putting some finishing touches on a birdhouse or two in the morning. I want to do some more baking first thing, so I'll pick them up later. They can help me collect everything from the neighbors and get it packed up.”

“It was kind of you to include Gant in your visit,” he said. “I suppose you saw how pleased he was.”

Susan nodded. “It will be good for Rachel to get out too. She's still grieving Phoebe. We both are, but I think Rachel tends to go too much inside herself when she's sad.” She sighed. “I suppose we all have to grieve in our own ways.”

“So Rachel's still building her birdhouses, is she?”

“Oh, she works hard at it, David. Always putting one together or painting another. She enjoys it.”

He said nothing until they passed over the ravine near the Lape farm. “Too bad things are what they are between her and Gant. They'd so enjoy being together, I think—even working together, what with both of them having a liking for woodworking and building things.”

“Too bad for a lot of reasons,” Susan said quietly. “'Course the bishop doesn't approve of her building the birdhouses, you know.”

“The bishop doesn't seem to approve of a lot of things,” David said, his tone sounding unusually sharp. “Including Gant.” He paused, then went on. “I beg to disagree with him there. I've always thought Rachel and Gant would be good for each other—and good
with
each other.”

Susan turned to looked at him, admiring, as she always did, his lean profile, the gentle wave to his silvering hair, and the kindness engraved upon his features. How fortunate she was to be able to talk to David openly, knowing that whatever she told him would go no farther than his ears. Not only was he to be her husband—but he was also her dear friend, indeed had been a good friend long before they ever became engaged.

“Truth is,” she said, “I don't understand why the bishop wasn't at least willing to give Captain Gant and Rachel a chance. It seems to me he closed the door on any hope for them awful quick-like.”

When he didn't answer for a long moment, Susan knew him well enough to realize that he was mulling over what she'd said.

 

His eventual reply sounded thoughtful, even a little hesitant. “You don't suppose the bishop's attitude toward Gant has anything to do with Samuel Beiler, do you?”

“Why on earth would you think that?” she said, puzzled.

He shrugged. “Well, Samuel
is
a deacon, one of the leaders of the church. If the bishop is aware of his interest in Rachel, wouldn't it be possible that he might favor him over Gant? Even to the point of making sure he had a ‘clear field,' so to speak? After all, Samuel was born and raised Amish, has established himself well as a deacon—it might be only natural the bishop would prefer Rachel to marry a Plain man instead of an outsider.”