Where Grace Abides

by BJ Hoff

  Gently he released her and took up the reins, thinking not for the first time that November could not come soon enough.

  In her kitchen Rachel tried to convince her friend, Phoebe, not to leave yet. “It’s already dark. You mustn’t walk home alone. I’m sure Mamma and Dr. Sebastian will be here any minute to get Fannie, and they’ll be happy to take you home.”

  “Danki, Rachel, but that’d be silly! Don’t I always walk home?”

  Rachel stopped her at the door. “Ja, Phoebe. You always used to walk home. But things are different now. Please wait for Mamma and Dr. Sebastian.”

  Phoebe reached to pat her hand. “You’re a dear to worry, but I’ll be fine. I don’t want to put Susan and the doctor out of their way.” She tied her bonnet. “Tell your mamma I’ll be by her place sometime in the morning with that gingerbread I promised.”

  Fannie came charging into the kitchen just then, hot on the heels of her puppy, who skidded up to the door and stopped right in front of Phoebe.

  “Fannie, I told you to quit chasing Thunder in the house,” Rachel warned. “You can run all you want outside but not in my kitchen!”

  “Sorry, Rachel,” her little sister said. “I forgot.” Clearly, though, her mind wasn’t on Rachel’s rebuke. She was too busy watching the puppy’s antics as he whirled in a circle around Phoebe’s feet.

  “Ach, I’m sorry, Phoebe,” said Rachel. “Fannie, you settle him down or else! And settle yourself down while you’re at it.”

  Phoebe laughed. “Tall order, that is. Must be something blowing in the wind. Both our dogs, Jasper and Tiny, have been wild today too.”

  Rachel shot a look at Fannie as she scooped up the puppy and carried him out of the kitchen. “I’m not sure who’s worse, Fannie or the dog.”

  With reluctance she opened the door for Phoebe and stood on the porch, watching as she made her way down through the yard. “You be careful.”

  Phoebe waved a hand and started her brisk walk home.

  Rachel waited until she was out of sight, then stepped back inside.

  She hesitated only a moment before going in search of Fannie and the puppy, knowing their foolish play would help take her mind off the dull weight of worry pressing in on her.

  The days saw darkness settling in earlier now. There was a definite promise of fall in the air, with the nights turning sharply cooler and the spicy scent of wood smoke coming from nearly every chimney.

  Phoebe Esch had never been one to be frightened of the dark. She was used to being outside after the sun went down, especially on those nights when she had to traipse back and forth to the barn. Ordinarily she would enjoy the quiet that settled over the land when darkness drew in. For some reason tonight, though, she found herself walking uncommonly fast, anxious to get home.

  The sense of peace and contentment that normally bathed the fields along the way seemed different. The night held an oppressive stillness. Even the smallest sounds, sounds to which she seldom paid any heed, insinuated themselves into her mind and clung there, as if demanding her attention. The crack of a tree branch, the rustle of fallen leaves, the creak of a gate, and the whisper of the wind tracking along a fence rail seemed swollen and strangely ominous.

  The few farmhouses out this way were set so far back from the road that any light glowing from their windows was faint and of no real help in easing the darkness all around her. Phoebe was glad for her lantern and lifted it a little higher, holding it farther out to illumine her way.

  It had to be her imagination, but it sounded for all the world like voices coming from the dense woods on her left. Probably just some of the young people, out having their fun or even courting, such a mild night it was.

  The thought made her feel better. She could have laughed at her own foolishness, letting spooky ideas and dark thoughts trouble her so. Still, it was only natural, wasn’t it, to be a little jumpy, what with the bad things that had been going on lately?

  Even so, she couldn’t help but wish now that she’d done as Rachel had suggested and waited for Susan and Dr. Sebastian—especially since the mild breeze of early evening had blown up into a harder wind. Phoebe felt the first few drops of rain pelt her face.

  Again she chided herself for being such a dummkopf. In another five minutes, she’d be home. She began to walk a little faster, a touch of lightheadedness setting her pulse to racing, her legs to trembling.

  Not for anything would she tell Malachi about her foolishness. He wouldn’t like to know she’d been scared, of course, but neither would he understand the reason for it.

  For that matter, she didn’t understand why she was so naerfich either. She was hardly ever nervous. Those things she couldn’t take care of on her own, God would, so why should she be anxious?

  So caught up in her thoughts was she that she didn’t hear the voices come up behind her until it was too late. The blow to her head caught her completely unawares as she spiraled down into a whirling abyss of total darkness.

  15

  LONGING FOR HELP

  There is a night that builds a prison round the soul.

  ANONYMOUS

  Feeling better now?” David asked as they pulled up in front of Rachel’s big white farmhouse.

  Susan nodded. “I always feel better after talking with you. You always make such good sense.”

  David laughed a little. “I know some folks who would argue that point. But it does help to talk things through, don’t you think?”

  “Ja. I know that, but sometimes I forget. I also know I’ve been too hard on Captain Gant. No doubt Gideon didn’t need any coaxing to make this trip. Unless my son has changed a lot, he has a real hard head all of his own. If he wants to do a thing, he does it, whether it’s wise or not. I’ll not pick on Captain Gant again. I promise.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’re picking on Gant, dear. It’s only natural you’d be worried about your son, especially if you don’t understand why he acted a certain way. But I do think Gideon must have felt this was the right thing to do. He’s a fine young man, Susan. It’s just that he’s still trying to find the right way for him.”

  “I know he is. But I can’t keep from hoping that the right way for Gideon will turn out to be the Amish way.”

  “And it may well be. But even if he doesn’t choose to live Plain, Susan, you’ve raised a good, dependable son—one you can trust to do what’s right. There are other ways to live a life of faithand serve God besides being Amish.”

  Susan studied him, this good man who would soon become her husband. It still made her wonder why a man like David Sebastian had actually chosen to spend the rest of his life with her. She was only a simple Amish woman who had never lived any way other than Plain, who had little education, and absolutely no knowledge of the world except for the small corner in which she lived.

  David, on the other hand, was a man of great learning and skill, a man of dignity and fine appearance. British, he was, using that term to express his heritage rather than English, to avoid any confusion since the Amish referred to everyone but the Plain People as Englisch.

  She would never understand what he saw in her, why he had come to love her and want to marry her. But once she accepted the reality of his love and his insistence that he was willing to convert to the Amish faith so they could be married, she had mostly stopped questioning. Instead, she gave thanks daily that God had blessed her for the second time with a good man who truly loved her.

  When Amos, her husband and father of her children, died, she had assumed there would never be another man in her life. She accepted the idea of spending the rest of her days growing old alone except for her family. How God had surprised her! A friend and physician to the Plain People for years, she had grown fond of David Sebastian and learned to trust him. But her love for him—and his for her—had been an unexpected but wonderful- gut gift.

  “For the Lord hath done great things…”

  “Well,” he said now, “I suppose we should go inside and visit for a few
minutes. Then I need to be getting you and Fannie home, though I confess I always hate saying ‘good night’ to you. It will be so good when we no longer have to separate at the front door at night.”

  Susan felt the heat rise to her face at the thought.

  Like a schoolgirl, I am.

  She loved their brief moments of closeness, and the very idea of sharing every part of life with David as his wife made her almost dizzy with anticipation. Not for the world would she say it aloud to him, but she was just as anxious for November to come as he claimed to be.

  Half an hour later, Rachel’s mother and Dr. Sebastian stood just inside the front door of Rachel’s house, waiting for Fannie to gather her doll, the puppy, and the cookies Rachel was sending home with her.

  Finally Fannie appeared, the puppy tucked securely in her arms, while her mother took her other things from her.

  “Danki for the cookies, Rachel, and for letting me bring Thunder.”

  Rachel leaned to give her sister a hug. “You’re welcome. And Thunder can come anytime. But you’d best start teaching him to obey, Fannie. Remember what Captain Gant told you—he’s going to be a big dog someday. You want to make sure he grows up to mind you well.”

  “I know. I’ll start training him right away.”

  “And I’ll see that you do,” their mamma said firmly. “You can already see him getting bigger. The sooner he learns obedience, the better.”

  It was raining when Rachel opened the door and they all stepped out onto the porch. They hesitated when they saw Malachi Esch pull up in his buggy.

  Surprised, Rachel watched as he climbed down and hurried toward them.

  “I thought I’d come get Phoebe,” he said, holding onto his hat when a gust of wind blew up just as he reached the porch. “She catches cold mighty easy anymore and I didn’t want her walking in the rain.”

  Confusion tugged at Rachel. “But Phoebe’s already gone, Malachi,” she said. “She left nearly an hour ago. You mean she hasn’t been home yet?”

  The big man stood looking at her. “Nee. Gone an hour, you say?”

  “At least that.”

  Rachel exchanged a look with her mother, a cold ribbon of uneasiness coiling down her spine. The Esch farmstead was no more than a ten or fifteen minute walk from Rachel’s house.

  Malachi’s face clouded with concern. “Why, then, she should have been home long ago. I didn’t see anything of her on the way here.”

  “Maybe she took shelter from the rain somewhere.” Rachel’s mother no doubt meant to reassure him, but his expression was highly skeptical.

  “But where? There’s nowhere to go between here and our place.”

  “Well—there’s the Gingerich farm,” Mamma offered.

  “By the time she went that far off the road, she could have made it home.” Malachi shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t have gone out of her way like that.”

  With a troubled look, he waved a hand. “Sorry for bothering you, I am,” he said, turning and starting back for the buggy. “She must have taken a fall or something. Could be lying in the road somewhere, out in the rain. I’d best be going to find her.”

  “We’ll both go, Malachi.” Dr. Sebastian started toward the steps, then turned back. “Susan, you and Fannie stay here with Rachel, just in case Phoebe is on her way back here for some reason.”

  “I’m going with you,” Rachel said. “Fannie, you stay inside with Mamma where it’s warm.”

  “Rachel, I don’t think you should—”

  “I’ll be fine, Mamma,” Rachel said, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door and hurrying down the steps to join Malachi and the doctor.

  The rain was coming down hard as they drove away, beating a frantic rhythm against the top of the buggy. Rachel hugged her arms to herself, staring into the night, straining for the sight of her oldest and dearest friend.

  A hand seemed to close around her throat as they splashed steadily through the rain, their eyes scanning the road and the trees and fields alongside it. The farther they went with no sign of Phoebe, the darker the dread that seized her heart. In spite of her best attempts not to borrow trouble, a sick certainty rose in her that trouble had already come.

  After an hour of driving in the rain and stopping every few minutes to survey their surroundings, Rachel had grown nearly numb with apprehension.

  Where is Phoebe? What could have happened during her short walk home? And why, oh why, didn’t I try harder to make her wait for the ride that Dr. Sebastian would have gladly given?

  The oppressive night seemed to engulf her and hold her captive as if she were trapped in a nightmare. But this was no bad dream. It was all too real.

  Rachel couldn’t help but wonder if whatever had happened to Phoebe was related to the other baremlich things happening to the Amish—those terrible mean things meant to frighten or, even worse, bring actual harm to the Plain People.

  A night like this brought back the awful memories of the night she and Eli, her deceased husband, had been attacked. The night Eli had been killed.

  In trying to save her from harm, he had gone against the nonviolent beliefs of the Amish faith and fought against their attackers. His courage had saved Rachel’s life. But Eli’s life had ended, there on a road close to home, in the middle of the night when three unknown men beat him to death.

  And why? What could prompt such evil, such hatred in one man for another?

  For years now, there had been fires and thefts and other malicious occurrences, such as last year’s attack on Fannie. But through it all, there had been only one death—her beloved Eli’s.

  Most of the time Rachel tried not to think of what might be yet to come, what other trouble or tragedy might lie in wait for the Plain People. But on a night such as this—how could she not give in to her fears?

  A sudden longing for Jeremiah took hold of her. He would know what to do. Oh, how she wished he were here right now to help! And Gideon, her brother—if only he hadn’t gone off with Asa!

  Rachel knew the bitterness and resentment that suddenly swept through her held an irrational sense of betrayal. Gideon was already gone and might be gone for months. And Jeremiah certainly wasn’t physically fit enough to go traipsing through a rainstorm in the dark of night. What else could either of them do that she and Dr. Sebastian and Malachi weren’t doing?

  Even so, it seemed that at some point her little bruder had become her “big brother.” The boy who had once depended on her had become a man, and with all her heart, she wished she could go to him for help. He loved both Phoebe and Malachi. He would want to be here.

  As for Jeremiah—the desire for his presence, his strength and wisdom, was never stronger than when something was wrong.

  And at this moment, every instinct within Rachel screamed that something was wrong. Perhaps very wrong.

  Phoebe Esch lay in a cold and wet place.

  Her bed was rain-soaked and hard. It felt rough and scratchy, like an old wooden floor. Something scraped and scurried in the darkness as the wind whispered through the walls.

  The voices she thought she heard a moment before were gone now, and the quiet was unrelenting. Something silent but threatening seemed to surround her, in front and behind and all around. The only thing she could hear was her own breathing, a heavy, wheezing sound. Her head pounded with pain, as though she’d been struck by one of the big river rocks.

  She heard the rain hammering overhead. The darkness was thick and unrelieved. She could see nothing. And she was cold. So cold she couldn’t stop shaking. Her body ached all over, as if she’d been thrown from a high place.

  She stared into the blackness, listening, not wanting to know what the rustling sound nearby might be. Fear propelled her to push herself up with her hands, to wait, suspended there until the dizziness passed and she was able to clamber the rest of the way to her knees and wait again.

  A wave of nausea flooded her. She gasped for breath, reached to yank the binding from her mouth.

  F
inally she managed to stand. She swayed but didn’t fall, waited for her head to clear, all the while trying to ignore the pounding at the back of her skull.

  Gradually the pain ebbed a little. Trembling as much from fear as the cold, she rubbed her arms and discovered that her coat was gone. She lifted a hand, only to realize that her kapp was also missing, her hair unbound and falling free.

  Even terrified as she was, she cringed inwardly at the burden of this disgrace.

  Inconceivably she felt the cold, wet boards under her feet. Where were her shoes? She’d worn them when she left for Rachel’s earlier in the evening. She knew she had!

  And where was she? How did she get here?

  Slowly her eyes focused but not enough that she could make out any real shapes, nothing but shadows.

  She started to creep across the floor, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, shaking so violently she lost her balance and nearly fell. She did stumble but put a hand out in front and touched a wall, regaining her balance.

  The same rough wood as that of the floor scraped her hand. She felt her way along the wall, not able to see it but relying on her sense of touch to guide her.

  Finally she came to what she thought was a door. She found a crossbar and tried to slide it. It moved easily, but when she pushed on the door, it didn’t give.

  She pushed again. It still didn’t move. Desperate now, she began to pound on the wood with her fists.

  Nothing.

  She threw herself against the door with the full weight of her body, sending a hot arrow of pain blasting up her shoulder. But the door held firm, unmoving.

  Like a prisoner, she was locked in a dark, unknown place that reeked of mold and animal droppings and rot.

  Panicked, desperately fighting to keep her mind from snapping, she hammered on the door with both fists over and over again.

  Finally she began to scream.