Love Finds You in Nazareth, Pennsylvania

by Melanie Dobson

  “I’m so sorry,” Elias said, tears smeared across his face. “I should have made you stay in Nazareth.”

  “Hush,” she whispered. “I wanted to be with you.”

  “If I hadn’t insisted…”

  Then he would have come alone. And she would be a widow. There would be no life for her without Elias.

  “I’m ready to go home with you,” she said.

  Smoke filled the room, the heat burning her skin, and she leaned into Elias. Fear clutched her in the heat, the smoke.

  “The enemy can kill the body,” Elias whispered, “but the Savior owns the soul.”

  Catharine no longer heard the screams around her. Elias was kneeling beside her, his arms wrapped around her, whispering his love to her.

  She wouldn’t be going to back to London or even to Bethlehem. God was taking her to a place much more grand.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Susanna woke before Christian or Nathan. Threads of moonlight crept around both sides of the curtain, and in the faint light, she dressed quickly in the dark. Her husband’s arm dangled over the bench, and she smiled as she draped her heavy shawl over her dress and slipped out of the room and down to the river to wash her hands and face in the cold water.

  Light eased across the horizon, water rushing over the rocks and under branches that hung over its path. As she stood on the riverbank welcoming the dawn, she imagined herself on a warm summer day, dipping her toes in the water and splashing the Indian children.

  She wished she never had to leave this place.

  After she helped the Indian women prepare a breakfast of corn bread and dried berries, Christian brought Nathan to her. Fifteen more people in the clan wanted to be baptized, so in spite of the frigid temperatures, Christian took them outside and down to the river.

  From the shore, she and Nathan watched him wade into the cold water, and one by one he baptized men, women, and a few children. Their Indian friends didn’t seem to notice the cold when he dunked them under the river. Their faith was fresh as they emerged praising their Savior, reminding her of the children that must have gathered at Christ’s feet. She couldn’t see God, but she imagined Him with his arms outstretched, welcoming these followers to Him.

  Nathan clapped his hands every time someone went under the water, and as Susanna clapped with him, she prayed that God would bring them back here again soon. She didn’t mind the cold weather or even living in a hut. She wished she could serve the Savior here, alongside Christian.

  If only they had more time, she would ask the Indian women a hundred questions about their customs and heritage. Life was more unscheduled here. Free. The women seemed to work just as hard as those in Nazareth, but the time wasn’t as structured here.

  Even as she wondered what it would be like to live in Tanochtahe, she knew it would be hard to leave Nazareth, hard to leave her friendships with Catharine and Rebecca and Mariana and her time playing with Timothy and the other children in the Nursery. Yet the Savior had put the desire in her heart to be with the Indian people and she must follow, no matter where He took her.

  She spent the day working with the women in the kitchen house. They showed her how to boil venison with handfuls of rice and how to grind roasted corn into a powder. As they worked, the women assured her that their chief would keep Nathan safe. That evening, while she tended to Nathan in the hut, Christian stayed up late talking with the chief and his council of elders. Nathan rested on the mat beside her, but it was a long time before he closed his eyes.

  “There are so many things I want to tell you,” she whispered.

  He looked over at her, probably for the last time. “Mama?”

  He was too young to understand all that was in her heart, but she still needed to speak. And she prayed God would give him the ability to remember, remember and understand, as he grew older.

  “Your mother loved you very much,” she said. “She didn’t want to leave you.”

  How could she explain to him, when she herself didn’t understand exactly why Lily had to go? But then she remembered one of the songs that Lily had taught her—the song about a mother bear who loved her cub so much that she left him to chase the hunter away.

  And so she began to sing.

  It was a sad song, because as the bear rescued her cub, she was slain at the hands of the hunter. For the first time since Lily had taught her the words, Susanna understood what Lily was trying to tell her. By leaving Nathan, by going to the hunter, perhaps she too was trying to protect her child.

  Nathan fell asleep as she sang, and she closed her eyes. He was home now, and in some strange way, for the first time since she was a child, she seemed to have found her home as well.

  Susanna clutched Nathan in her arms as she walked beside Christian to the edge of the village. Christian watched her blink back tears as she tried to be strong, but he knew the turmoil in her heart. When Susanna loved, she seemed to love with all of her being.

  The chief took his hand and shook it. “Visit us again soon,” he said.

  “I would like that.”

  The chief nodded at Susanna. “And bring back your wife.”

  Susanna clutched Nathan in her arms a little longer, and then slowly, reluctantly, she kissed him on the forehead and handed him to the young woman who would care for him. When she turned, Christian saw tears in her eyes, her strength beginning to falter.

  He was certain that Susanna wouldn’t let him come back to Tanochtahe without her.

  After a final wave good-bye to the men and women gathered at the perimeter of the village, he took Susanna’s arm and quickly escorted her away from the small crowd, to the canoe below them.

  He helped her into the front seat and then he picked up his oar and climbed into the back. The sun shone this morning, but the leaves above their heads masked most of the light as they paddled away from the village. Susanna was quiet, and he wondered if she was angry at him for not letting her keep Nathan in Nazareth with them. Or if she was mourning the loss.

  “Perhaps we could return soon and visit him.”

  She shook her head. “If we return, Howling Wolf might follow us. He might find Nathan.”

  He hadn’t thought about the man following them, but she was right. He might trail them all the way to Tanochtahe to find his child.

  “You took good care of him, Susanna.”

  She dipped her oar into the water twice before she replied. “Thank you.”

  “How did you learn to speak the Delaware language?”

  A ray of light streaked through the leaves, and she lifted her hand as if she could catch the beam in it. “Lily taught me.”

  “Can you teach me how to speak it?”

  “I can’t teach you how to speak it.” She turned around to him, and the hint of a smile lit her face along with the light. “But I can teach you how to sing it.”

  “Sing it?”

  “That’s how Lily taught me.”

  “God didn’t bless me with a voice for singing.”

  “But He still wants us to lift our voices, no matter how poorly we sing.”

  “You might disagree after you hear me.”

  She sang a line, and he mimicked her words. Then she laughed. “You are terrible at singing.”

  He laughed along with her. “If only you were honest with me—”

  “You’d rather I lie to you?”

  “I never want you to lie to me, Susanna.”

  She brushed her hand over her sleeve, a slight smile on her face when she turned back to him. “Singing is still the best way to learn.”

  And so they sang as they paddled through the woods, him with his gruff voice, her with a melodic voice that could probably calm both sailors and angry seas. And in the hours of their singing, Christian began to feel the healing between them.

  They paddled around a curve, and two animals were drinking from the river, horses without manes. Susanna lifted her oars and watched them.

  “Samuel called them elk,” he said.r />
  “They are magnificent.”

  There was a plain of flat rocks around the elk, and he paddled toward it. They stopped along the riverbank, in the sunlight. He unwrapped the bread and dried strips of bear meat their Indian friends had packed for them and spread the food over one of the rocks.

  “I’m glad you were able to come with me.”

  She nodded, but in her eyes he saw a bit of sadness. Tonight they would be back in Gnadenhutten with the other brothers and sisters, with Catharine. He didn’t know when he would be alone with Susanna again.

  He put down the chunk of bread in his hands and turned to her.

  “Please forgive me,” he begged. “I should have found a way to tell you about Cath—about my past before we married.”

  She lifted her head slowly. “I’ve already forgiven you, Christian.”

  He searched her blue eyes, the smoothness of her skin.

  “Do you still love her?”

  He shook his head. “God has given her to Elias, and I am happy for both of them.”

  “And what about you?” she asked.

  “God has given me a most wondrous blessing,” he said quietly. “A blessing I don’t deserve.”

  His hands twitched and he reached out, taking her small hands within his own. He feared she would pull away, but he held her hands, and her skin felt so soft to him. He worried that he might hurt her if he squeezed too hard.

  “I still don’t know how to be a husband to you, Susanna.”

  Her lips quivered. “All I want is your love.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you again,” he whispered, but even as he caressed the top of her hands, he knew that he would. In his bullishness, in his pride, he would do something to hurt her again. If she could continue to forgive him, if she could dare to love him, he would do everything he could to be a good husband to her.

  Susanna looked down at their hands. “You must forgive me as well.”

  “There is nothing for me to forgive.”

  She shook her head. “I was so angry at you, angry at both you and Catharine. I thought you were trying to hurt me.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “It took me awhile, but I slowly realized that what happened between you and Catharine was so long ago. You couldn’t help continuing to care for her after we married.”

  Maybe he couldn’t stop his emotions back then, but he should have worked harder to extinguish the desire that had controlled him for so long. He couldn’t tell his wife this, not as he was basking in the grace of her forgiveness, but with the Savior’s help, his love would be for his wife.

  “It is you I love, Susanna. It is you I want to be with.”

  Her chin fell, and he nudged it up with his fingers. The intensity between them was strong, stronger than he’d ever felt before. If he tried to kiss her now, he might hurt her, but his lips longed to feel hers.

  “Catharine said—” Her words faded into silence, and he knew Susanna was silently reprimanding herself for mentioning her name again.

  “It’s all right. You can talk about her.”

  She started again, her voice quiet even in its boldness. “The helpers are assigning times in the chamber for couples who request it.”

  Her words registered slowly, his wife asking him to join her in the chamber. His skin tingled at her invitation, and he marveled to himself that after all he had done, a woman as beautiful and pure as Susanna would want him.

  “We could meet—,” she continued, but he reached out and stopped her nervous words with the touch of his fingers to her lips. And he felt her tremble.

  He leaned close to her, and he thought about the wonder of being alone with her, both of them willing to consummate what God had brought together. But then he thought about someone pounding on the door, interrupting their time as husband and wife. He thought about the pressure from all those who knew they were scheduled to be together.

  He wanted to love her for hours, not an hour. He wanted to woo her to him and savor their moments together, not rush before someone knocked on the door.

  “The first time we are together,” he said, his voice resolute, “will not be in that chamber.”

  At his words Susanna’s fingers shook inside the strength of her husband’s hand, and she closed her eyes, remembering their wedding day so long ago at Marienborn—the day he’d wanted to marry Catharine.

  But Christian no longer loved Catharine. He loved her.

  The fortress she’d built around her heart crumbled at his touch, and in that moment, she knew he was telling the truth. His indifference to her, his deception, it was all in the past. She was grateful that God had brought them together, grateful that Christian Boehler was her husband.

  “Not the chamber, then,” she said softly.

  He looked at her again, and she could see the longing in his eyes.

  “They are expecting us in Gnadenhutten,” she said. It was more a question than a statement.

  “They are.”

  “We should leave soon.”

  “Very soon.”

  His gaze traveled over her shoulder, and her body trembled when she realized he was scanning for a clearing among the rocks and trees. He untied the blanket roll attached to his pack and took her hand, leading her away from the riverbank to the tall dry grasses, beside a patch of huckleberries. The blanket waved like a sail in his hands as he shook it over the rocks.

  “Christian,” she began. Her emotions soared even as her nerves seemed to tumble down upon themselves. “I’m scared.”

  He dropped the blanket. “We will wait, then.”

  She looked up at the golden specks in his eyes, the stubble that had grown on his cheeks and chin, and she wanted him to wrap her in his arms. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  “Your haube.” He looped his fingers around the blue ribbons. “May I take it off?”

  Something sparked within her at the suggestion in his words. The intensity of them.

  “You may,” she whispered.

  He slowly brushed his hands over her head, and she melted into his chest. She wanted nothing more than to be close to him, to feel his body against hers. To love Christian Boehler as a wife loves her husband.

  She tried to remember all that Annabel had said, what she was supposed to do. But her mind seemed to go blank as he held her in his arms.

  “Susanna,” he began, and then she put her finger over his lips.

  At first she only wanted to stop his penance, but when he went quiet, she heard another sound behind him. A rattling sound from the earth.

  A curse slipped through Christian’s lips as he picked her up and rushed her away from the snake coiled at their feet. And away from the second snake that slithered into the thicket nearby.

  He set her down by the rocks and then hurried back for their blanket. When he returned, his voice was husky. “Are you all right?”

  A tremor rushed through her, and for a moment, it felt like she couldn’t breathe…but they couldn’t stay here on the rock. They had to return to Gnadenhutten before dark.

  When he touched her arm again, she pulled away. “We—we must go.”

  He pushed the canoe into the water and held it close to the rocks for her. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” she replied, before climbing back into the canoe. He most certainly hadn’t done anything wrong.

  As they paddled away, nervous laughter slipped from her lips, and then he began to laugh alongside her. They slid through the rocks, the river rushing by them, and they laughed together.

  The laughter felt so good to her. She and Christian could sing together and they could laugh together. Maybe one day they could learn to love each other as well.

  Chapter Thirty

  Christian smelled smoke. The aroma welcomed him back to Gnadenhutten, and after he pulled the canoe out of the river, he took Susanna’s hand and they hurried toward the village and what he hoped was a kettle full o
f hot soup.

  A new longing replaced the desires that had once infected his soul, and this new longing was like a healing balm. He didn’t want to be apart from Susanna again—not in the Brothers House or when he journeyed again to the Indians. He wanted to be with her wherever he went, whether or not they shared the bedchamber. He wanted to sing with her and laugh with her. He wanted everyone, including Catharine, to know that he loved his wife.

  The village of Gnadenhutten was beyond the trees, but before they reached it, he stopped Susanna one last time. “We have to find a way to be together in Nazareth.”

  “The chamber?” she whispered.

  “For more than an hour,” he said with a shake of his head. “For hours.”

  “We’ll find a way,” she promised.

  Her fingers entwined in his. The river forked before them, and they walked to the left. As they grew closer to the village, the smell of the smoke turned foul. He couldn’t identify it, but the stench was black, like the terrors of the night. Like death. And there was no pounding of hammers or whirl from the mill or laughter or song.

  “Something’s wrong,” Susanna whispered.

  Christian untied his heavy pack and dropped it to the ground. Susanna ran with him, forward through the trees, until Christian threw out his arm, stopping her.

  On a tree stump before them was a blanket and a black hat, pierced through with a knife. He yanked the knife out of the wood, and his stomach rolled when he saw the blood on its blade. Dried blood. Susanna stepped back, and he dropped the knife, reaching for her. She rested her head on his shoulder and trembled against him.

  Whatever had happened in Gnadenhutten, he couldn’t let her see it. As he held his wife, he looked at the forest ahead, wondering what the trees hid, wondering what they had seen. He couldn’t leave Susanna here either.

  She pulled away from him, her voice barely a whisper. “They might need help.”

  Whoever had been here was probably gone, but he couldn’t risk losing Susanna if someone had remained to hurt them. Hours had passed since someone had used the knife, with the blood dried, but he didn’t know how long ago the knife had been thrust into the stump.