Where Grace Abides

by BJ Hoff

  Something akin to alarm flared in her eyes. “No, Jeremiah. There is no way. There will never be a way.”

  “There has to be something—”

  “There’s not,” she said sharply, her chair scraping the floor as she pushed back from the table and stood. “The only thing we can do is exactly what Bishop Graber said. We have to stay away from each other.”

  Gant also got to his feet. “You would do that, Rachel? You’d accept his decision without even trying to find a way to change his mind?”

  “It’s what I have to do! The bishop’s decision is the last word in such matters. I can’t go against him.”

  She turned away. Gant knotted his fists at his sides to keep from slamming them on the table. “Can’t or won’t?”

  She came around slowly, and now her expression was one of sadness. “They’re one and the same, Jeremiah. I can’t go against my church. My faith. This is my life. It’s all I have.”

  “You could have more, Rachel. We could have each other. A life together, children—”

  “No.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “No, we can’t. Not if it means giving up everything I know, everyone I love.”

  He stared at her long and hard. “But you’re willing to give me up. What about our love?”

  She blinked, and he thought he saw tears in her eyes. For one insane moment, Gant wanted to grab her and force her to admit that she couldn’t face a life without him any more than he could her. He wanted to take her away from here, leave Riverhaven, go any place where they could be together.

  Madness. The truth was that she could live her life without him. She had the support of an entire community and a family deeply devoted to her. If he were to leave, Rachel’s life would go on, much the same as it always had.

  Oh, she might miss him for a time—but probably not for long. Eventually she would get past whatever pain their parting might cause her and go on. One day she would marry another man and have a full life.

  The very thought of that man, whoever he might be, blistered his heart with jealousy.

  In this moment all he could see was a vast emptiness spread out in front of him. What kind of a wasteland would his life be without her, now that he had found her and grown to love her so fiercely? How could he just walk away, never see her again, never talk to her again, as if he’d never known her?

  He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  “Rachel—”

  He took a step toward her, but she raised a hand to stop him. “Don’t. I…want you to leave now, Jeremiah. Please.”

  He stopped, his eyes locked on her even though she wouldn’t look at him. “You can do this, then? You can dismiss me, just like that, simply put me out of your life? Is it really so easy for you, Rachel?”

  Slowly she raised her eyes to his, and the look she turned on him stunned Gant into silence.

  “Is that what you think? That this is easy for me?”

  He saw the tremor in her hands as she faced him.

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  She shook her head as if to shake off his words. “When you first said that…you loved me, I told you then it was hopeless, that the only way we could ever be together was if I were to give up being Amish, leave my family, my life. But you wouldn’t listen. No, you said we were meant to be together, that somehow we would be together, that you would find a way for us to marry—that you would make it happen.”

  He nodded. “I know what I said. And I meant it, Rachel. I believed it.”

  She dropped her gaze. “And in my foolishness, I believed it too. So when you hinted that you might be willing to become Amish, I suppose I believed that as well.”

  “Rachel, I tried, and I’m going to keep on trying—”

  Again she shook off his attempted protest. “No. This is my fault, not yours. I surely knew that night when you—when you told me how you felt—I must have known then it couldn’t happen. But I let you convince me, or rather, I convinced myself. I let myself imagine that it might be possible after all. That was my mistake—believing it could come about…just because I wanted it. I see now that I was wrong in letting you believe it and wrong in allowing myself to believe it.”

  She stopped. Her gaze searched his eyes. “Don’t you see, Jeremiah? Truth be known, Bishop Graber has done us a kindness in refusing to allow your conversion. He understands that it would be wrong—so very wrong—for you to join us, to become Amish, only to marry me. Sooner or later you’d come to resent me. At the least, you’d resent your decision. To live Amish isn’t simply a decision you make. It’s a way of life. It is your life. It’s everything you are, everything you do.”

  A sick heaviness settled itself over Gant’s chest. She was giving him no room for argument, no opportunity to convince her that this wasn’t yet finished, that he meant to fight for her, whatever it took. Yet at the same time, a whisper of uneasiness insinuated itself at the edge of his mind, that his determination to somehow win over the bishop’s consent might actually confirm the old man’s accusation—that his only reason for wanting to convert was so he could marry Rachel.

  The pain in her eyes, the look of dejection clouding her loveliness nearly undid him. “Rachel—give me time. Let’s think this through together. Somehow we’ll find a way—”

  “No, Jeremiah.” In spite of the sadness that seemed to have settled over her, her voice was surprisingly firm. “The bishop’s decision is God’s will, and we have to accept it. I can’t…” She let her thought drift off, unfinished, for a long moment. Then, “I can’t deceive myself any longer. I want you to go now, and I’m asking you to not come back.”

  Gant clenched his fists at his sides until pain shot up his arms. “The bishop isn’t God, Rachel!”

  Her eyes widened as if he’d committed blasphemy. “Of course, he’s not! But he’s our bishop, and I can’t go against him.”

  Again he accused her. “You mean you won’t go against him.”

  A look of impatience flicked across her features, but her voice held that same maddening calm when she replied. “You don’t understand, Jeremiah. I don’t expect you to. Unless you’re Amish, you can’t understand.”

  Gant knew he was dangerously close to losing his temper. But at this point he was too afraid that he was losing Rachel to be careful. “I expect you’re right. If being Amish means letting yourself be ordered about as if you have no mind of your own, then I definitely do not understand!”

  She reacted to the harshness of his words by passing a hand over her face in a gesture of weariness. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and Gant immediately felt a sting of regret. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, yet he was doing just that.

  He studied her, waiting. When she said nothing, he expelled a long breath saying, “Do you really want me to go, Rachel?”

  She bowed her head and gave a small nod.

  Heaviness overwhelmed Gant, as he crushed his cap between his hands. “All right, then. I’ll go, but, Rachel—”

  She didn’t look up.

  “If you’re determined to give up on us, I can’t stop you. But don’t you think for a moment that I’m giving up.” He stopped, hoping for a word from her. When it didn’t come, he added, “If you should change your mind, if you ever want to talk, or if you should need me for any reason—any reason at all—you’ve only to ask. You know where to find me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He started for the door, then turned back only to find her exactly as she’d been, standing in silence, her gaze locked on the floor.

  He left her there, forcing himself not to leave his hope behind as well.

  4

  A SECRET WANDERLUST

  For we are the same things our fathers have been;

  We see the same sights our fathers have seen;

  We drink the same stream, and feel the same sun,

  And run the same course our fathers have run.

  WILLIAM KNOX

  Gideon Kanagy was on his way back to the shop when he met up
with Emma Knepp. As was her way, she walked with purpose, head down, her steps brisk, hands clasped at her waist.

  Emma always seemed to know exactly where she was going, as if she’d plotted her destination well in advance and knew precisely what route would take her there. Gideon wasn’t surprised to see that, though the day was warm, she wore a black shawl, pinned in front, and a black bonnet.

  Emma lived the way of the Plain People, with great attention to the rules.

  She was pretty though. The fair hair, just barely peeking out from under her bonnet, glistened in the afternoon light, and her complexion seemed touched year-round with an apricot blush.

  It was a wonder she was still unmarried. From what Gideon had heard, it wasn’t for lack of trying by some of the single fellows in the Riverhaven area. So far as he knew, though, she’d not yet allowed any one of them to court her.

  He was almost in her face, before she looked up and recognized him.

  “Emma,” he said, planting himself in front of her so she had to stop.

  Her face flamed. “Oh—Gideon! Hello. I didn’t see you.”

  “Where are you headed in such a hurry?”

  She looked confused. “I…was supposed to meet Dat and my brothers back at the buggy, but I ran into Sally Lape, and we got to talking. Now I’m afraid I’m late.”

  Emma was the only daughter in a family with three sons, all older than she. Her father, Levi Knepp, was known to be plenty strict with all his children—but especially with his only daughter. Gideon wasn’t surprised that she seemed a little flustered by the thought of showing up late.

  Even so, he made no effort to move out of her way. “How’s your family?”

  Without really looking at him—for whatever reason, Emma never quite looked at him but always just past him somewhere—she replied, “Everyone is gut. And yours? Your mamma and Rachel and Fannie?”

  “Far as I know, they’re just fine,” he said watching her.

  He hadn’t been up close to Emma for several months and was caught unawares by just how attractive she actually was. She didn’t have the dramatic good looks of his latest interest, Abby Frey, who was Englisch and prettied herself up by curling her hair some and using a little rouge. Emma, being Plain, wouldn’t resort to such worldly adornments.

  But then Emma didn’t need such worldly adornments.

  Even though she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he knew those eyes. They were a color of a blue that held a touch of smoke and sky, with long, ink-heavy lashes that looked to brush her cheeks when she blinked. He remembered that she blinked often. In fact, more than once Gideon had wondered if Emma needed to wear eyeglasses.

  He realized now that he always thought of Emma Knepp as a girl. A child. He was older than she by at least two years and had watched her grow up. For the first time, it struck him that she was no longer a girl but a young woman. A young woman lovely enough to steal a fellow’s breath away and, unless she’d changed a lot, with a sweetness of spirit to equal her comeliness, though she’d always been reserved to the point of an awkward shyness.

  “I should go,” she said abruptly, looking past him as if in search of an escape route.

  Gideon hesitated, reluctant to let her pass. Finally, though, he stepped aside, saying, “Give my best to your family.”

  She glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “Yes—all right,” she stammered.

  “And stop by the shop next time you’re in town and say hello,” he added, knowing full well she would do no such thing.

  He would no longer be in the Knepp family’s good graces—if he ever had been. Though he hadn’t been shunned, having never joined church in the first place, he was living outside the community and working for an Englischer. Levi Knepp would not want him associating with his only daughter.

  More to the point, Levi’s daughter didn’t seem overly eager to associate with him.

  He watched her hurry up the boardwalk. From time to time, some of his Amish friends had teased him about Emma being “sweet” on him. Now he found himself wondering if she had been. Truth be known, he’d never thought of Emma that way. She had always been just Levi Knepp’s shy daughter who lived up the road.

  For a moment he entertained the idea of Emma liking him and found it oddly pleasing. Just as quickly he shook it off. There was no way he’d be courting Emma Knepp as long as he lived outside the Plain community.

  Besides, he already had a girl, and a pretty one in her own right. Abby had the reputation of being a little wild, but that was all right.

  He wasn’t of a mind to settle down, not for a long time. An Englisch girlfriend who wasn’t all tied up in a bunch of rules and restrictions suited him just fine for now, though when it came time to marry, she wasn’t the sort he’d turn to.

  He watched Emma until she was out of sight, then turned and started off again for the shop.

  He saw the wagon at the same time he reached Edgar Folsom’s leather shop.

  The day was dry and hot, and the big draft horse kicked up a thick cloud of dust and stones in spite of its slow pace. The heat and the dirt burned Gideon’s throat, and he put his hand up to cover his mouth.

  It took him a moment to recognize the driver of the rattling farm wagon. He stopped where he was, struggling to remember the man’s name. When it finally registered, he raised an arm to hail him.

  “Asa!”

  The big black dog stood up on the driver’s bench and barked, and the driver shot a puzzled look in Gideon’s direction. Then, as recognition lighted his eyes, he slowed the horse and pulled up to the rail beside the boardwalk, where Gideon met him.

  Asa gave a nod. “Mr. Gideon.”

  “You remember me, then,” Gideon said. “Well, I expect you’re looking for the captain.”

  “I am.” The dog barked again, and Asa shushed him. “Miss Rachel—your sister—told me I’d find him at the carpenter’s shop here in town.”

  “You went to Rachel’s first? Oh, that’s right—you wouldn’t have known where to come otherwise.”

  Asa looked past Gideon to the buildings behind him. “The captain—”

  “The shop is just three doors down,” Gideon said, hauling himself up on the side of the wagon. “You can pull around back. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  The dog—“Mac,” as he recalled—looked Gideon over with those eerie eyes that seemed almost human in their piercing intelligence, but he remained quiet.

  Gideon pointed the way up the street to the narrow lane that ran between the shop and Hudson’s dry goods store. “Turn down there. Captain Gant sure will be glad you’re back. He’s been real worried about you.”

  “How is the captain?” Asa’s expression left no doubt as to his concern for his friend. “Is he well?”

  “He’s doing all right. Of course, you know about his leg. I can tell it still bothers him some. But he never mentions it.”

  Asa nodded knowingly, turning off the lane and pulling around to the rear of the buildings.

  “Here we are,” Gideon said, gesturing to the back door of the shop. “You can pull your wagon right up there by the storage shed.”

  Gideon smiled to himself as he imagined the captain’s surprise. Gant was a quiet man, never a big talker, but lately he’d been even more reserved than ever. He was an unhappy man these days, there was no missing it, and if Gideon were to guess the reason for his employer’s grim disposition, he was fairly sure it had to do with Rachel.

  In any event, he hoped Asa’s return would cheer the captain up a little.

  It caught him off-guard to realize that he actually cared about his employer’s feelings. When Gant first showed up in Riverhaven, Gideon’s attitude had ranged between curiosity about the mysterious stranger’s past and resentment for the problems he brought upon Gideon’s sister Rachel by turning up wounded on her doorstep.

  After working for him for several months, though, he’d found the former riverboat captain an easy man to respect, even like, albeit not an easy sort to get close to.
From the beginning, Gant had treated him like a man, not a boy, complimenting him on his work when warranted and teaching him more than Gideon had ever learned from the former owner of the shop, Karl Webber.

  Gant had magic in his hands when it came to wood, and there seemed no project he wouldn’t tackle, no problem he couldn’t solve. He was also an interesting man. Gideon had no idea whether he had educated himself or gone to some fancy school, but he clearly knew a lot about a lot of other things besides carpentry.

  Gideon liked to get him talking about his life on the river and some of the places he’d been. It seemed that Gant had been in several different states, even way up north. He didn’t seem to mind answering Gideon’s questions. And Gideon never ran out of questions for him to answer.

  He had always wanted to travel and see faraway places. Rachel had once accused him of having a “wanderlust” in him. Was that such a bad thing? He had never been anywhere, after all, had never ventured farther away from Riverhaven than Marietta and once, when he was a boy too young to remember much about the trip, had gone with his family to visit relatives near Columbus. Gant’s stories made it possible to imagine different places, even though Gideon might never see them for real.

  He had never taken to farming. He liked the land well enough, liked to be outdoors and even liked to watch things grow and come to maturity. But the process of planting and tending and harvesting he found tedious.

  Many times while he was still growing up and living at home, he would walk away from their property. He would walk for miles through the fields and into the woods or sometimes go down by the river and simply sit and watch the big boats, trying to imagine where they were going and what they would see along the way.

  He glanced at Asa, as they started for the back door, Mac trotting along at their side. Could be he’d have a chance to hear even more stories now. The captain never talked about the business he and Asa carried on with the runaway slaves, but Gideon knew what they were up to. He’d overheard enough conversations between his mother and Rachel—and between Gant and Dr. Sebastian—to be pretty sure that the captain and Asa were involved with the mysterious Underground Railroad.