Love Finds You in Nazareth, Pennsylvania

by Melanie Dobson

  When they went to Bethlehem, they would have to leave Juliana in Nazareth until she was five. At that thought, she pulled her baby close to her again. They must separate, but she would miss her. She had never allowed her heart to get too close to her child, like some of the sisters did with their babies. From the day Juliana was born, Catharine had been preparing herself for the day they must part.

  And that day had finally come.

  They would surely be allowed to visit her again before they left for Bethlehem, but she didn’t know if she wanted to. The saying good-bye over and over would be almost too painful to bear.

  Rebecca Wittke walked out of the manor to take Juliana. She was one of the women who’d been newly assigned to watch the children.

  Catharine clung to Juliana a moment longer, not wanting to say good-bye to her, not wanting to give her to a woman who had slighted Catharine for so long. A woman who’d looked down on her because she’d been too tired to be a mother.

  She hesitated. “You will take good care of her, won’t you?”

  “I will care for her as well as you have done.”

  “No.” Catharine glanced down at Juliana resting her head on her shoulder. “Please care for her better than I have done.”

  Slowly she released her daughter to Rebecca. And Juliana began to cry.

  Catharine’s eyes filled with tears like her daughter. Rebecca reached out, hugging her, and what remained of Catharine’s strength dissolved at the woman’s touch.

  She felt Elias’s strong hand secure her elbow, and she turned to her husband. His eyes were on Juliana, his tears reflecting those that dampened her cheeks. This was why she shouldn’t allow herself to think of the possibilities. Even to think of this girl any more as her daughter.

  The saying good-bye was even harder than she’d imagined.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Elias said before he kissed Juliana on the cheek. Then he whispered that he loved her, as if Juliana could understand his words.

  As Catharine kissed her daughter, the void expanded across her heart. As long as they lived among the Brethren, she was a mother without a child. And her child would have no mother.

  But it was only temporary, she reminded herself. One day Juliana would know how much her mother loved her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Another group of children would be leaving the Nursery at any moment, the trumpeter leading their parade, and Susanna prayed quietly that the Indians would be focused on the commotion instead of on the small group preparing to vanish into the woods.

  She turned from the window of the Gemeinhaus, back to the five adults and little Nathan, who continued to cling to her hand but seemed oblivious to all that was happening. His life was about to change in ways that none of them could imagine, and she prayed they were doing the right thing, taking him into a world he had never known, a place where they hoped he would be safe.

  “It’s time,” Elder Graff said, directing them toward the door.

  There would be no send off today for them. No crowd to wave them good-bye. They would leave quietly in pairs, away from the Nursery and the crowds, strolling into the woods in the daylight without looking back.

  Elder Graff prayed for them one last time, and then Benjamin walked through the door. Minutes passed as he scoured the woods to the west of the Gemeinhaus, and then he motioned that it was safe.

  Elias and Catharine left next. They walked hand in hand, talking casually together as if they were going on an afternoon stroll as they disappeared into the woods.

  Then it was time for Susanna and Christian and Nathan to join them.

  Nathan looked up at her, his brown eyes round. “Mama?”

  She leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “She’s not here right now, but can I take you for a walk?”

  His lower lip trembled, and for a moment she worried that he would cry out for Lily. They couldn’t take him into the forest if he were whimpering for her. But then he nodded, and she smiled at him. Her head high, she squeezed his hand and they moved through the door.

  She wanted to carry him, but the others concurred with Benjamin that it would be better for the boy to walk the first part of the journey so it didn’t look like they were stealing him away. They were all simply taking a slow walk, gathering nuts in the forest.

  Christian walked a few feet behind her and Nathan, and she knew he was scanning the forest as they walked, staying alert for a threat. She was glad for his quiet presence, taking care of them.

  She feared that Nathan might cry out again for his mother, but he continued to follow her without another sound, as if he knew something grave had happened and the possibility of danger quieted his lips. Or at least he stayed quiet until they walked into the trees. Then he began to sing quietly like his mother.

  One of the brothers had hidden their packs in the woods, under piles of leaves, and they quickly strapped on their loads—food for their travels, canvas for the tents, and a warm change of clothes. Christian carried the ax for firewood, and Elias held a musket.

  Susanna’s shoulders curled away from her neck as she walked, heavy from the pack and the anxiety that threaded through her as she listened for footsteps around them. She knew she would never hear the Indians coming, not until it was too late, but she continued to listen as they moved farther into the forest, away from the settlement.

  Nathan stopped his quiet singing, and when he did, Christian leaned forward. “Are you all right?”

  The boy shook his head. “Go home.”

  She took a deep breath. How was she supposed to explain this to him—that his mother was gone and they were taking him away, that he would never return to what he had known all his life?

  When Christian stopped walking, she stopped as well. He knelt beside the child. “Did you know you have a grandfather?”

  Nathan shook his head.

  “He is a great man. An Indian chief and a follower of our God.”

  His eyes grew wide again. “An Indian?”

  As she watched the boy, she realized that Nathan didn’t know about his mother or his father being Indians. The life of the Brethren was all he had ever known. Susanna leaned back against a tree, resting her shoulders from their load. The others waited for them ahead.

  “We’re going to a safe place,” she said, trying to reassure him. And trying to reassure herself, that they were doing the right thing.

  Christian stood and nodded to her. It would be a much safer place than keeping him in Nazareth.

  They continued on. The farther they walked from Nazareth, the lighter her load felt. Nathan walked in front of her for a bit, searching for sticks and rocks and bringing her his favorite finds. She breathed deeply of the wilderness and it strengthened her.

  This was where she was supposed to be, out here in God’s creation with her husband. After all this time, she was finally going to the Indians. It wasn’t how she had planned to visit them and yet maybe, maybe it was exactly what God had planned.

  Her heart began to race. The past hours had been so busy, preparing and keeping watch over the children, that she hadn’t stopped to think about the implications of this journey. She was finally going on a mission, and after they stopped in Gnadenhutten, Christian and she would be alone, escorting Nathan back to his tribe.

  She rubbed her hands over her arms. She and Christian would be alone, and she must learn how to be around him without reacting to his gaze or his touch.

  Elias and Catharine talked quietly in front of her as they hiked, and she wondered if she and Christian would feel comfortable in each other’s presence one day, like the Schmidts did. Elias had forgiven both Christian and Catharine for their deception.

  Christian no longer needed to carry the burden of his guilt. God had forgiven him for what he had done, and soon, when they were finally alone, she would tell him that she had forgiven him as well.

  A rock wall fortified the mountain ahead of them. At first she assumed that they would walk around the mountain, but Christi
an handed Benjamin his pack and Benjamin strapped it on himself. Christian picked Nathan up and put him over his head, securing the boy’s legs as he carried him on his back.

  “Hold on,” Christian instructed him.

  Susanna was afraid that Nathan would topple over and land on the rocks, but he clung to Christian’s neck. She reached for a tree limb among the rocks and started the climb behind them.

  When they reached the peak, Catharine sat down on a rock while the men included Nathan in their discussion. Susanna didn’t want to sit nor did she want to talk. Instead she walked to the edge of the mountain and savored the view below. She’d never been up this high in her entire life—like a bird soaring over the trees. Or a star hanging above the earth.

  A river snaked below them, in and out of a grand forest that stretched to the horizon, and the mountains looked as if they had tumbled from the sky, falling over one another in a pile of stair steps meant for God Himself to climb, up into the clouds and whatever lay beyond. They’d climbed one of God’s grand steps and the others didn’t seem to care.

  Christian joined her side. “You need to rest.”

  She clapped her hands together, invigorated by the view and the air. “How could I rest with so much beauty around us?”

  He may not understand it, but the beauty of God’s nature, the coolness of the autumn air, made her feel alive.

  Instead of pressing Susanna to sit, Christian stood beside her, looking out over the valley and the haze of mountains beyond. “His majesty is all around us.”

  Nathan held out his arms to her, and she picked him up. “Around us and deep within us.”

  Nathan pointed down at the trees. “Mama?”

  “She’s not here right now,” Susanna tried to explain again, not knowing what else to say. She held him close to her, pointing out the hawk circling below them, the sun creeping toward the edge of the world.

  Catharine pulled off her shoes and rubbed her feet. “He won’t miss his mama for long.”

  Susanna moved toward the smooth top of the rock, holding the boy a little tighter. “I don’t know….”

  “Someone will take her place.” Catharine’s voice sounded hollow. “Someone else will care for him.”

  Susanna didn’t answer. It was hard enough for Catharine to leave Juliana behind. She didn’t need to tell her about the nights she’d spent as a young woman longing for her own mother to talk with, to hold her during the hard times. How she’d once confided in her mother about all the details of her life, and how much she missed her confidante when her mother left for Africa.

  Nathan might not remember his mother’s face, but if Lily never returned, surely God would allow him the memory of her beautiful voice.

  “Every child needs a mother.”

  “Not in Nazareth,” Catharine said.

  She thought of Timothy, of Nathan and Juliana. The sisters cared well for them, but there was still something special about experiencing a mother’s love. “A child needs his mother, especially in a place like Nazareth. Even if they only visit.”

  Benjamin stepped toward them, as if he knew what she’d been thinking. “Chief Langoma will make sure this boy is cared for.”

  Susanna nodded her head. But Chief Langoma wasn’t a mother.

  Christian removed a bag of chestnuts from his pack and offered them to her. She ate a handful of the sweet, peeled nuts before they continued hiking, using torches to guide them as far away from Nazareth as possible that night. Nathan slept in Christian’s arms as they walked, and even as the hours passed, her husband didn’t complain about the extra weight.

  She reached her arms out to him. “Let me take him, Christian.”

  He shook his head. “It will wake him.”

  “You’ve been carrying him for too long.”

  “He doesn’t weigh much.”

  Susanna knew well the weight of a sleeping child, but Christian continued to carry him until they stopped for the night.

  Dinner was hastily prepared as Elias helped Christian string the canvas over the poles and stake it into the ground to erect two tents, side by side. After they ate, the men slept in one tent while Nathan joined Catharine and her in the second tent. But in two nights, she knew, there would be no second tent.

  Where would she and Christian sleep when they got to Chief Langoma’s village?

  Catharine hurled to the side, trembling in her sleep. She screamed at the eyes that haunted her, eyes that flashed between a fierce orange and a red, and then she awoke, her body shivering under the blanket, though she knew not if it was from the cold or from fear. She’d never had a nightmare like this before.

  She pulled her blanket to her chin, but the eyes continued to haunt her. She turned over, trying to think about Elias instead. And Juliana.

  Susanna had said it was important for a child to have a mother to love her, to comfort her. Catharine had a mother, but the woman had never been around long enough to offer any kind of comfort. During her childhood, Catharine had always felt more like a doll to her mother, a toy she could dress and play with and then put back into her crib until the nursemaid came for her.

  In that moment, she wished she’d had a mother who loved her for more than a toy, a mother like Susanna had. When Catharine had nightmares as a child, there was no one around to comfort her, to help her fight the demons of the night.

  She rolled over again and closed her eyes, trying to fall back asleep, but all she saw was a wild animal stalking them, stalking her. The animal glared into the darkness of her mind—the fierce orange eyes of an animal she didn’t recognize.

  And then it attacked.

  She jolted upward on her bed, looking wildly around the tent. She was awake and yet the eyes were still there, circling around her, and she was terrified for herself and for Elias. For their daughter.

  She glanced over at Susanna, who was sleeping peacefully beside Nathan, and she kicked her leg.

  Susanna moaned. “What is it?”

  “I’ve had a nightmare,” Catharine said. “Something was trying to hurt us.”

  Susanna rolled toward her, but Catharine couldn’t see her friend’s eyes in the darkness to see if they were opened or closed; she saw only the eyes of her dream. “The men will protect us,” Susanna murmured. “God will protect us.”

  Catharine squeezed her fingers together. “But what if they don’t—what if God doesn’t protect us?”

  “Then, I suppose…” Susanna’s voice trailed off, and Catharine thought she had fallen asleep again. But Susanna continued. “I suppose it means He’s calling us home to Him.”

  Catharine leaned back on the clothing she’d balled into a pillow.

  What would it be like to finally be home with their Savior? A place without sorrow or tears? She would no longer mourn the loss of her life, no longer be sad at the thought of losing Elias or her daughter. She’d drifted far from their Savior over the past months, but she didn’t want to be far. She wanted to be near Him. Only God could chase the fierceness of the eyes away, along with the despair that had settled around her heart.

  “Susanna,” she whispered again.

  “Yes?”

  “When Juliana gets older…I want her to know that I loved her.”

  “You will tell her.”

  Panic rushed through Catharine again.

  “But what if I’m not there?”

  Susanna paused. “Then I will tell her.”

  Catharine tucked the blanket under her body and shifted again to avoid the rock that poked into her back. When she closed her eyes this time, the orange eyes vanished in the light of their Savior. An image of the cross broke through, and she took a deep breath, sleep embracing her once more. She rested secure the remaining hours of the night, knowing the Savior was with her no matter what she faced. And knowing He would be with Juliana as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Seated in the front of a bark canoe, Susanna paddled up the Lehigh River with Christian and Nathan behind her, toward Chief La
ngoma and his clan. Before they left Gnadenhutten that morning, Elias had already begun work on the wheel of the gristmill. He predicted that the wheel would begin turning again by the morrow, and then they would return together to Nazareth.

  Their journey to Chief Langoma would be much shorter than she and Christian desired, but the visiting was secondary to this new mission. When they left Tanochtahe, they would leave Nathan in a safe place.

  Her husband sat behind her, paddling the canoe and shouting out commands for her to pull her oar through the water on the right or the left. She’d never been in a canoe in her life. She didn’t tell Christian, pretending she knew how to paddle, though he must have guessed at her ineptness. She obeyed his instructions, hoping every moment that he didn’t regret bringing her on this journey.

  The hours passed rapidly. Nathan entertained them from the floor of the canoe with an assortment of songs; the wall of leaves around them were ablaze with color. They stopped to eat a quick supper, and by the time they finished, the temperature had begun to fall. She tucked a blanket around Nathan and he fell asleep on the bottom of the boat between them. Dusk would soon be upon them, and she hoped they would be able to find the village before dark.

  As Nathan slept, she glanced behind her. “Do you have any siblings?” she asked Christian, breaking the silence between them.

  He dipped his paddle into the water. “Three brothers.”

  “And they are married?”

  “Last I heard, two of them married, but it has been ten years since I left home.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “When I left my home, I never intended to return.”

  “My family never planned to return to Moravia either.”

  The river lapped against the rocks, and they paddled around a fallen tree branch. When she glanced behind her again, Nathan was still asleep.