River of Mercy, page 21
Doc turned to face the fire but only for a moment. When he again turned back to Gideon, his expression was taut with emotion. “You’re right—there’s no knowing how the Beiler boy got those marks. He could have been injured in a fall or another accident. I know you won’t repeat any of this, Gideon, including your suspicions. It wouldn’t be fair to Samuel, nor to his sons either. We’ll keep our concerns between ourselves. But I’m glad you told me.”
Gideon also got to his feet. “What do you think about all this, Doc?”
“If you don’t mind, son, I’d rather mull it over for a time before saying something I might regret later. Anything I’d say wouldn’t be based on fact, after all.”
Disappointed, Gideon gave a long sigh. He’d counted on getting Doc’s opinion. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned any of this—”
“No,” Doc interrupted. “I’m glad you did. Let’s just say you’re not alone in your concerns. That’s all I dare say for now, but you did nothing wrong in coming to me. Nothing at all.” He paused before going on. “We’ll be talking about this again. Perhaps soon I’ll be able to explain more than I can now. All right?”
His even tone gave no indication of any hidden meaning. Even so, the way Doc was looking at him gave Gideon a strong hint of something being left unsaid, possibly something important.
Clearly, he would have to be patient. He wasn’t surprised when Doc changed the subject. But his next words did surprise him.
“Perhaps I’m out of line asking you this, son, but I’ve wondered…do you ever think about coming home? Back to the People?” It was as if Doc somehow knew the direction his thoughts had taken on the way out from town.
Gideon fumbled for a reply. “I…suppose I do. Sometimes.”
Doc remained silent, as if waiting for more.
“Why would you ask me that?”
Doc shrugged. “I’m curious, that’s all. And your mother…well, you know. She never stops hoping. But I imagine you know that.”
Gideon gave a nod. “I’m sure.”
He hesitated before saying anything more, and in the meantime Doc brought up another remark Gideon wouldn’t have expected. “I want to be certain you understand that there’s always a place for you here. Just because your mother remarried doesn’t mean the farm isn’t yours for the future. This place is your inheritance by rights, and I wouldn’t want you to think I’m unaware of that. We’d welcome you back with open arms. I hope you know that.”
Gideon stared at him. “Doc…I don’t want the farm. Farming just isn’t for me. I want to earn my living doing exactly what I’m doing now—working as a carpenter. Maybe even having my own business someday.”
Doc was obviously caught off guard. “Well…I hadn’t realized. You’re quite certain?”
Again Gideon nodded, even more vigorously. “I’ve known for a long time. In fact, my job is one of the reasons I might shy away from coming back. I don’t want to give it up.”
Doc frowned. “Why do you think you’d have to give it up? You could still work in town and live Amish. I know Gant values your work. And I’ll admit we could use your help around here, at least on a part-time basis, but I see no reason you couldn’t manage both. Whether you want to farm or not, this place is going to be yours someday.”
“Samuel Beiler would never let me keep my job with Gant!” Gideon burst out. “And as bishop, he has the power to make me quit.”
Doc studied him. “Is that the only reason you haven’t come back?” he asked quietly. “Your job?”
“No, not at all. But it’s important to me. And so is Emma!” he blurted out, not thinking. “But I know I can’t come back just because of her. That wouldn’t be right.”
He stopped, feeling heat flame his face at the realization that he’d said more about his personal feelings than he should have. An Amish man had no right bringing up a relationship—or even the hope of a relationship—to anyone else, even a family member.
Even so, he added, “Besides, I don’t know if she’d have me even if I did come back. Her dat probably wouldn’t even let me in the front door. Levi doesn’t like me, not a little bit.”
“Emma?” Doc gave a faint smile, as if Gideon’s words weren’t exactly news to him. But his expression quickly sobered. “Well, I can’t tell you what to do, of course. But I will say this. If the time comes when you’re sure you’d like to come back and live Amish, I don’t think you should let the threat of losing your job stop you, nor would I worry all that much about Levi Knepp. Things have a way of working out.”
He drew in a long breath before going on. “The most important thing for you, son—for any of us—is to heed God’s will, though His will may not always seem like a possibility. Sometimes it won’t even seem to make sense. But as I said, things have a way of working out in the long run if we let the Lord put us where He wants us. You just follow where He leads and let Him take care of any obstacles.”
The strangest feeling settled over Gideon as he listened to Doc’s advice. He knew in that instant he had to think through very carefully what he’d just heard because he sensed he’d been given something that might be really important. Something that might actually make a difference in his life.
“Are you going to tell me what you and Gideon talked about?”
Susan waited until Gideon had gone upstairs before asking the question Doc had been expecting. He had to smile a little. His wife was seldom predictable—except when it came to Gideon.
He moved a little closer to her on the sofa. “Nothing much really, at least nothing that should concern you. He was just looking for a bit of advice.”
“And he came to you? I’m glad, David. He’s always respected you, you know.”
She really did look pleased by the idea. “And I’ve always liked your son, Susan. He’s a good lad with a good head on his shoulders.”
As he would have expected, she obviously was still curious. “Advice about what?”
He smiled even more. “Really, dear,” he chided.
“Well, I can’t help but wonder. You have to admit it’s unusual. Gideon seldom seems to want advice from anyone.”
“As I said, it’s nothing for you to fuss about. We had a good talk together, that’s all. Man to man.”
Her mouth tightened, but David could tell she wasn’t actually upset. She seldom became genuinely aggravated with him, but when she did, there was no mistaking the signs.
Inside his boyhood room, Gideon stood, looking around. For some reason, anytime he spent the night, he found comfort in its very plainness. There was nothing decorative or “fancy” about it, of course, although the bed quilt Mamm had made just for him warmed and brightened the surroundings.
She unfailingly kept things the same here. A couple of wooden toys he’d played with as a child, a few small mementos he’d made in school, and a slingshot were neatly lined up on his chest of drawers, just as they always were. No doubt there was plenty of oil in the lamp beside his bed, and knowing Mamm, the linen was most likely changed on a regular basis even though he didn’t spend all that much time here.
The thought brought a smile…and a bittersweet tug at his heart.
Things had been so simple then. The boy who once slept here night after night, like most young Amish boys, had thought life would probably always be uneventful and uncomplicated. When he wasn’t too tired to stay awake, he had daydreamed a little about the future, but he never imagined the challenges or trouble that waited there.
Admittedly, he had also thought about going away, seeing more of the world than this farm and the small, sleepy town of Riverhaven. He had even thought about following the mighty, mysterious Ohio River to unknown places and the adventure he would never find in the Plain community.
He sighed. Now he would give a lot to believe life could ever be that simple and problem free again. At the moment, he simply felt tired and troubled. He was tempted to flop into bed without changing clothes and find the peace that only sleep could bring. Old habits took over though, and he found himself unable to tumble into Mamm’s clean bedding in his everyday work clothes. He kept a change of nightclothes here, so he took the time to change and then went to bed.
And stayed awake. Tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t feel the least bit drowsy. He heard every creak in the old farmhouse, every outside noise that filtered in through the windows, and he finally thought he could hear his own heartbeat.
Before long, the fatigue he’d been feeling earlier completely disappeared, giving way to an uncommon tension that made his body feel as tight and drawn as a brand-new chicken-wire fence. His head actually ached from the strain.
Yet amid the physical discomfort, all he could think about was what Doc had said regarding God’s will. Just how was he supposed to know what God wanted for him, what His will for his life might be? He didn’t like to think he might make a mistake about something this important, something that could change—or not change—the direction of his entire life. That was a pretty scary idea.
After another hour or so of tossing and turning, questioning himself and wondering, Gideon couldn’t stand it any longer. Ignoring the chill that he knew awaited him once he threw off the quilts, and paying no heed to the cold that gripped his feet, he got out of bed. Then, for the first time in a very long time, Gideon Kanagy knelt beside his bed and began to pray.
35
CONFRONTATION
None but one can harm you,
None but yourself who are your greatest foe.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
David Sebastian knew the moment Samuel Beiler began to read Gant’s note that the man was fighting hard to control his temper. His face flushed crimson, and the hand holding the note trembled.
“He has no right to do this,” Beiler said in his heavily accented English. “No right. He made a commitment to me.”
David managed to keep his tone mild when he replied. “Unfortunately, he found himself unable to keep that commitment. He wasn’t sure when he’d see you, so I told him I’d deliver his apology. He’s sorry not to give you more notice.”
When Samuel made no reply but simply stood studying the note with a white-knuckled stillness, David decided to move on to the more difficult part of what he’d planned to say. “More to the point, Samuel, as a member of Rachel’s family, I found your idea of a birthday gift for her entirely inappropriate.”
There was no mistaking the flare of rage in the other’s eyes. “It’s not for you to say what’s appropriate for me and Rachel.” His tone was as harsh as if it were laced with ground glass.
David now struggled to hold his own temper in check. “There is no ‘you and Rachel,’ Samuel. You’re not a couple, and it’s wrong for you to pretend that you are.”
They were standing just outside the barn. The evening was cold and damp and dreary. There would be rain or sleet later. The chill that coiled through David when he met Beiler’s eyes, however, had nothing to do with the weather. The man was looking at him as if he’d like to gut him with the nearest pitchfork.
He turned to go, but Beiler’s next words stopped him.
“So it’s your doing then. You talked Gant into reneging on our agreement. You had no right.”
Painfully mindful of the truth in Beiler’s words, David slowly turned to face him, choosing his words with care. “And you have no right to allow others to believe you have some sort of understanding with Rachel. That’s not the case, and you know it. It doesn’t become you as a man, and certainly not as our bishop, to foster such an untruth.”
“Rachel is simply being young and stubborn. Given enough time, she’ll see what’s best for her. I’m quite certain everything will work out well for us.”
David nearly choked on the acid taste of his own outrage. He was finding it more and more difficult to control himself, but he was determined not to let Beiler provoke him any further. Even so, he could hear the anger rising in his voice. “Rachel’s not that young, Samuel. And she’s never been stubborn. What is it going to take for you to accept the fact that she has no intention of allowing you to court her? Do you actually believe she’ll change her mind if you continue to pressure her? Surely you’re not that naive.”
As if Beiler suddenly realized his behavior belied the proper demeanor of a bishop, he seemed to grope for self-control. The angry flush paled slightly as he crushed the note in his hand and threw it to the ground, taking on the air of arrogance David had come to associate with him.
“Watch your words, Doctor Sebastian,” he said with what David knew to be a deceptive calm. “The Amish do not insult their bishop.”
“As an Amish man myself,” David said pointedly, “I have no wish to insult you, Samuel, nor any intention of doing so. I’m trying to reason with you. You’re doing yourself no benefit by misleading others about having a relationship with Rachel. No good can come of such a pretense. You need to look for a wife and a mother for your sons elsewhere. There are a number of widows and unmarried women among us. Why not concentrate your attentions where they’re wanted?”
As David watched, Beiler knotted his fists, drawing himself up to a rigid stance. “It would be best if you leave now, Doctor. We have nothing else to say to each other.”
With a slight shake of his head in frustration, David turned and started up the field. He could almost feel Beiler’s icy stare following him like a knife in his back.
He sank into the buggy, feeling depleted and totally disgruntled. What in the world was to become of the Riverhaven People with a man like Samuel Beiler as their bishop and spiritual leader?
For one of the few times in his life, David Sebastian came close to questioning the work of his Creator, the choice He had made in allowing such a man to assume the authority over an entire community. But instead, he willed himself to pray.
He was still praying when he reached home.
36
STALKER IN THE SHADOWS
Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires.
SHAKESPEARE
It was a lousy night to keep watch, what with a cold rain starting up and the wind on the rise. But he was trying to get an idea of Gant’s nightly routine, and this was the only way. Trouble was, the man seemed to change everything on any given night, from his trips in and out of the house to the time he turned his lamps off for the last time.
He’d been out here four nights straight now, and Gant hadn’t done the same thing twice. Was he that unpredictable or just absentminded?
That big, mean-looking dog worried him too. There had already been one night when he’d nearly panicked, thinking the dog had spotted him or at least got a whiff of his scent. Gant had let him out, and he’d bounded up the hill, growling. But when Gant called him, he’d hesitated only a moment before turning and racing back to the house. Ever since, he hadn’t dared to move in as close as before. That animal looked as if he could bring down any man or beast he chose to.
There was another problem too. In addition to the dog, he was pretty sure something else was lurking around Gant’s place, maybe some kind of a wild animal. Night before last when he was out here, he’d stayed high on the hill, like tonight, keeping well away from the house. Even though there hadn’t been a breath of wind moving, more than once he thought he heard leaves rustling and crunching a ways down the hill. He’d also seen a shadow slinking around, low and fairly close to the house. A shadow that two or three times made a strange, growling sound.
The faint sound of music had been coming from the house most of the time he’d watched. He assumed it was Gant. He hadn’t seen anyone else around, and there was no sign of a buggy or a horse parked in front or back. From this distance, the music sounded as if it were coming from a fiddle. Gant hadn’t stopped playing for more than a minute or two, so apparently he wasn’t aware that there was something skulking around right outside his house.
He hadn’t stayed to watch any longer. Whatever that was creeping around the shrubs and woodpile, he wasn’t going to take any chances.
So far, he hadn’t accomplished what he’d set out to do: find out when Gant was likely to be at home or away. It was beginning to look as though tonight wouldn’t be any different. It was getting late, and he needed to get back to the farm. Besides, Gant wasn’t likely to be going out anywhere on a night like this.
He’d give it another few minutes and then go back to the vacant lot behind the livery, where he’d left his horse tied to a tree among the high grass and overgrown weeds.
Just then, he heard the dull snap of wet twigs not far from him, just a few feet across the hill, where the ground dipped. He froze, his heart pounding. Squinting into the distance, he saw a shadow emerge from the trees, and that was enough to spur him to unlock his legs. He took off at a run, holding his hat down tight against the wind.
Did he hear something growl not far behind him, or did he imagine it?
Whether he imagined it or not, he kept running as if a demon were at his back, gaining ground and set on hauling him down. He ran so fast and so hard his heart pumped and his chest burned as though they would explode at any second.
Twice he slipped in mud and almost fell, but he made it to his horse. Gasping for breath, he yanked the rope from the tree and took off toward the road at a full gallop. Only then did he dare to toss a look over his shoulder. He saw nothing.
Nothing but the windblown rain and a darkness dappled by the faint lamplight that flickered behind the curtained windows of a few nearby houses.
Maybe he had imagined it after all. Maybe he’d just got spooked and thought the thing, whatever it was, was chasing him.
Maybe. But even so, he was finished with this risky business of prowling around, hiding in the dark and the cold. Next time he came out here, it wouldn’t be to stand watch. It would be to finish the job and be done with it—and done with Gant.
