Where Grace Abides (6 page)

But wouldn't they be surprised if they knew how quickly he would trade places with them if he could have Rachel at his side.

 
6
 
G
ATHERING OF
D
ARKNESS

Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On thee, when sorrows rise,
On thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

A
NNE
S
TEELE

September

E
ven though the day had been warm and still summer-sweet, a chill came on the air when evening gathered.

Susan Kanagy stood staring out the kitchen window, her gaze settling for a moment on her youngest daughter still playing happily on her tree swing, then traveling to her oldest, sitting at the kitchen table as she iced the last sheet of cookies they'd baked earlier that afternoon. Rachel's movements were slow and distracted, her features drawn in the all too familiar expression of sadness she often wore these days. Obviously icing cookies was the last thing on her mind.

Susan thought she knew what was on her daughter's mind.

Jeremiah Gant.

Rachel wore that look most of the time now, had worn it ever since Bishop Graber refused to consent to the captain's conversion to their Amish faith. The bishop's refusal, of course, meant that Rachel and Gant couldn't marry. Moreover, it meant they were to stay completely away from each other.

Susan hadn't seen her daughter so broken since Eli died. Her young husband's death, so untimely, so brutal, had left Rachel drowning in years of pain and sadness before she'd finally found a measure of healing. Jeremiah Gant's arrival in Riverhaven and their growing affection for each other had helped to further that healing, but now here she was again, her heart grieving, her spirit struggling.

Oh, she put a good face on things, Rachel did. With Susan and with her little sister, Rachel managed to pretend her days were full, her life good. Never one to burden another, even her closest friends would not see Rachel weep.

But Susan had. She had held her sweet daughter when Rachel sobbed out her accounting of the attack that had left her husband dead and her life in shambles. And she had held her again after the bishop passed down his decision about Gant, along with his stern admonition that the two could not marry and must not see each other again.

Although a couple's relationship wasn't to be discussed, there had never been many secrets between her and Rachel. The Amish did keep such things private, even among family members. Truth be told, she wasn't even supposed to know about the affection her daughter and Captain Gant shared. But she and Rachel had always been close, friends as well as mother and daughter, and when Rachel had sought comfort from her, Susan would no more have turned her away than she would have refused to tend to her wounds if she'd been physically injured.

In her heart of hearts, there were some things about living Amish she found difficult to accept. To pretend no relationship had existed between Rachel and the man she loved and then to know her daughter was in pain and not offer solace—this, she could not do.

She went to her now. “Your thoughts seem far away, daughter,” she said, putting a light hand on Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel turned, looked up, and gave a small quirk of her lips—a smile that wasn't really a smile. “Not all that far, Mamma. I was
thinking that the fall will soon be upon us. Summer is almost gone,
ja
?”

Susan sighed. “It is. I don't much like seeing the cold settle in, but we take what God gives.”

“Yes,” Rachel said, her voice so soft Susan had to lean forward a little to hear. “We take what He gives.”

Susan waited a moment, then sat down next to her and took her hand. “I wish I could take away your sadness, daughter. Is there anything I can do?”

Rachel caught a sharp breath, clearly surprised. “Oh—no, Mamma! I'm not…sad. I was just thinking.”

Susan searched her daughter's dark eyes. “Thinking about Captain Gant, were you?”

A faint blush stained Rachel's face. “No, I—”

She stopped, quickly glancing away. Rachel never could lie.

Susan patted her hand. “It's all right, Rachel. I know this has been a very hard thing for you.” She paused. “It will take time, daughter, but eventually the pain
will
erase. You will heal.”

Still not looking at her, Rachel said, “I'm sorry, Mamma. I didn't realize my feelings showed so much.”

Susan cupped her daughter's chin and gently turned her around to face her. “Your feelings don't show to everyone, Rachel. But is there really a need for you and I to pretend?”

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut a moment. When she opened them, the tears that glistened there tore at Susan's heart.

“It hurts so much, Mamma,” she said, her voice choked. “I love Jeremiah. Really, I do.”

“I know you do.” Susan hated this helplessness, this awful frustration of not being able to console her own daughter. “I'm so sorry,
mei liewi
Rachel. I wish it could have worked out differently for you and the captain.”

Even as she watched, Rachel's expression seemed to clear. She straightened and reached out to touch her mother's cheek lightly.
“I don't want to take away from your happiness, Mamma. I'll be all right. Really, I will.”

“You're taking nothing away from me,” Susan said, forcing a note of firmness into her tone.

Now Rachel smiled, this time a more natural smile. “I hope you know how happy I am for you, Mamma. Truly, I am. You and Dr. Sebastian are so right for each other. And we need to be making plans for your wedding soon. November isn't all that far away, you know.”

At the thought of just how close her wedding day actually was, Susan felt jittery inside. “There's plenty of time,” she said, unwilling to let her nervousness show. “After all, David still has to say his vows and join church.”

“Are you working on your wedding dress?”

Suddenly Susan felt like a girl again. She nodded. “I've started it. Oh, Rachel, I'm going to need your help so much to get everything ready, but I don't want to make things any harder for you.”

Rachel took her by both shoulders. “Please don't you think that way, Mamma! Not for a minute. Your happiness doesn't hurt me—it
helps
me! I love seeing you so happy, and to think it's all because of a man the entire community loves and respects. Dr. Sebastian is a
wonderful
person. You be happy, Mamma. You deserve it!”

Susan put a finger to her lips. “No, Rachel. No one
deserves
the blessings we receive from God's hand. Who can say why He chooses to grant us any happiness at all, sinners that we are?”

Rachel's scrutiny somehow made her uncomfortable. “Do you really believe that, Mamma?”

“Why, of course I believe it!” Susan stopped. “Don't you?”

Rachel dropped her hands away, but her gaze still searched Susan's face. “What about His grace, Mamma? What if the Lord God blesses us simply because He wants to? Not because we deserve it or because we've earned it but just because He loves us.”

“We're not worthy of such love, daughter,” Susan said sternly.

Rachel sat motionless. She didn't look at her mother, but sat staring at the kitchen window as if looking for an answer there.

“You and Eli,” Susan went on, “you let Phoebe and Malachi's beliefs about such things influence you.”

Rachel met her gaze directly. “It's not just Phoebe and Malachi, Mamma. Others among the People have been studying the Bible as well. Eli and I weren't the only ones with questions.”

Uneasiness stirred in Susan. She wasn't comfortable with this talk about questions. She knew about Phoebe and Malachi's Bible studies in their home, knew that there were those in the community who questioned some of the old ways and teachings.

True, she'd had her own questions at times, though she tried not to dwell on them. And when David asked her about some of the things he was learning in his instructions for turning Amish, even as she gave him the traditional answers—the approved answers—once in a while, she was hard-pressed not to ask
herself
how a thing could be so. If it
was
so.

“It's best not to ask too many questions,” she said now. “With some things, faith is the only answer.”

Rachel studied her. “But that's the point, Mamma. The Bible seems to teach that there are some things that can be known only by faith. Yet it seems that in some matters, Bishop Graber teaches us that faith isn't enough.”

Susan found it difficult to meet her daughter's gaze. “That's not so, Rachel. Faith is always the most important part of our beliefs—”

“No, Mamma. Not always. What about the assurance of our salvation? The bishop says we
can't
be sure, that we can have only the
hope
of salvation, depending on how we live. That doesn't sound to me like faith.”

Susan got up and began collecting the cookies to put in a tin. “We've talked about this before, Rachel, and I'm not going to go into it again. It's
unsinnich,
senseless, this questioning of what we already know to be true.”

Rachel, too, stood and began to help put the cookies away. “All right, Mamma. I didn't mean to upset you. But do you really think it's so wrong to have questions about God's will for us? Don't you think He would
want
us to understand His teachings?”

“Not if we're so foolish as to doubt what we already know is true,” Susan said, her tone sharper than she'd intended. Even so, though Rachel was a woman grown, she was still her daughter, and if Susan could help it, she'd not have her led away from their beliefs. “It's not wise to get involved in these Bible studies at home, Rachel, when there's no preacher or deacon to guide what's taught. Malachi is a good man, but he's not equipped to teach. You need to listen to the bishop and our deacon.”

“You mean Samuel?”

Rachel's tone was laced with contempt, and Susan knew why. Over these past months, Samuel Beiler had made no secret of the fact that he meant to wed Rachel, and he had pressed his suit long and hard. Too hard, to Susan's way of thinking. He had actually managed to turn Rachel away rather than attract her. Of course now, with her heart still soft for Jeremiah Gant, neither Samuel nor any other man had a chance to win her daughter's affection.

There were things about Samuel Beiler that Susan didn't appreciate any more than Rachel did. He was known to be stubborn—unyielding and even headstrong. He was several years older than Rachel, but for that matter, so was Gant. In his favor Samuel was a deacon, a hard worker—steady and well-intentioned. He would no doubt make a good husband, but Rachel had never given him a chance.

Perhaps in time Samuel could help her forget Jeremiah Gant. If that were possible, Susan could easily overlook the few things about the man that bothered her and simply wish him well in winning her daughter.

“You could do worse than Samuel, daughter,” was all she said.

Rachel turned from the counter to look at her. “Please, Mamma—don't start about Samuel again.”

Susan sighed but said nothing else. She knew from experience that trying to persuade Rachel to listen to reason about Samuel Beiler only seemed to make her more resistant to him.

If there was to be any change in her daughter's attitude toward Samuel, it would have to happen within Rachel's own heart, not from another's counsel.