Where Grace Abides

by BJ Hoff

  Nothing was the same as it had once been. Although they tried as best they could to maintain their simple life of faith and hard work, there was no denying that the trouble and dark times that had come upon them had taken their toll. Daily she had to guard against allowing fear to become a hindrance to living as she believed the Lord God would have her live.

  Fannie and her pup were at Rachel’s tonight, so the house was unusually quiet. She had lamps burning in the kitchen and in the front room, but when the knock sounded again, she still hesitated before opening the door.

  “Susan—it’s David.”

  A rush of relief went over her at the sound of David’s voice. Quickly she unlocked the door to let him in.

  “David! What in the world—is something wrong?”

  He was all smiles as he stepped past her into the front room. “Do I look as if anything’s wrong?”

  “Well—no, but what are you doing here?”

  “Truth? I was overcome with a need to see you.”

  “There is something wrong—”

  He pulled her close. “Come to think of it, I might be just a little mad. Love does that to a man, you know.”

  Susan stared at him. “David—”

  He kissed her soundly, silencing her questions. “I thought we’d go for a buggy ride,” he said. “I just yesterday picked up my new Amish buggy. I think we should try it out, don’t you?”

  “But it’s cold out—”

  “Not terribly. Besides, I have two perfectly good blankets in the buggy. We’ll be warm enough.” He paused. “You’d rather not?”

  “Why—no, it’s not that. I suppose a buggy ride would be nice.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Good! Get your coat, then.”

  “Yes…all right.”

  He saw her hesitation. “Susan? It’s really quite all right, you know. It’s appropriate for an engaged couple to take a buggy ride by themselves now and then, don’t you think?”

  Still she hesitated. He was acting awfully peculiar. What in the world had come over him? David was usually so…sensible.

  “After all,” he went on, “my conversion is final. I’ve made my vows. Our banns have been published. We’re being married in less than two weeks. All that considered, is there any reason we shouldn’t spend some time alone together?”

  Come to think of it, Susan couldn’t summon a single reason, so she went to get her coat.

  Outside he settled her snugly in the buggy, tucking one of the blankets around her before coming round to his side.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said, as he got in and sat down.

  “You just saw me two days ago, David.”

  “But not yet today. That’s why I’ve missed you.” He leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “David! Remember you’re Amish now. We don’t show affection in public.”

  He looked around, his expression almost comic. “Where is this ‘public,’ Susan? There’s not a soul to be seen.”

  “Still, we need to be discreet.”

  “Let’s save being discreet for when there are people around. That’s not the case at the moment.” He leaned to kiss her cheek again, then picked up the reins, clicked his tongue at the horse, and started off.

  Wasn’t he strange tonight?

  “Like the buggy?” David asked her.

  Susan looked it over. “It’s very nice. So you’ll use this for making your house calls as well?”

  He nodded. “Probably won’t have a choice. The bishop would most likely frown on my Englisch buggy.”

  “Oh—yes, I’m sure he would. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Speaking of the bishop, I’ve something to tell you.”

  He went on then to fill her in on his visit from Noah Graber and the conversation that had transpired, including the bishop’s own assessment that he might not be able to fulfill his duties indefinitely. After he’d finished, he glanced over to find her shaking her head, obviously disturbed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure you’d rather have our own bishop at the wedding. On the other hand, I’m relieved that Bishop Graber recognizes that he has a problem and seems willing to face it.”

  “Of course, I’m disappointed,” Susan said turning to him. “I almost feel as though I’ve known Bishop Graber forever. Why, he was the bishop when Amos and I got married. But I’m more concerned about him—about what’s happening to him. Will he be all right eventually, David?”

  He delayed any answer, trying to think what to say while not saying too much. This was Susan, and he trusted her completely, but that wasn’t the real issue. The bishop was his patient, and that fact alone merited his confidence and privacy.

  Suddenly Susan put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, David. I forgot. You really aren’t supposed to talk about a patient, are you?”

  He shook his head. “No, and thank you for understanding that, dear. But I can tell you this much, just between the two of us. I’m deeply concerned about Bishop Graber. I’ve dealt with other patients who have similar symptoms, and as I said, I’m concerned. No, I wouldn’t count on him showing much improvement.” He paused. “I’d best not say anything more.”

  “That’s all right, David. I understand,” she said, still clinging to his arm. “And I wouldn’t want you to be any other way than you are, really.”

  He darted a glance at her, and the soft expression of love on her face very nearly undid him. He wasn’t able to manage anything more than a rumble at the back of his throat.

  “I suppose I should be getting you home,” he finally said, already hating the thought of saying goodnight and realizing all over again how slowly the next few days were sure to pass—especially when she drew a little closer and leaned her shoulder into his.

  They rode along in silence for a time. Susan’s voice was hesitant when she finally spoke again. “David?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I can’t help but think about what Bishop Graber said, that he might not be able to serve as bishop much longer.”

  David nodded.

  “Are you going to tell Captain Gant?”

  He shot her a look. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “So I can’t speak to Rachel about it either?”

  “No, Susan. I know what you’re thinking—a new bishop could ultimately mean a difference for them, but we can’t repeat what the bishop said.” He waited, then added, “And I daresay we probably shouldn’t even think on it ourselves. What will happen will happen. There’s always a chance the bishop might take a turn for the better—”

  “But you don’t really believe he will,” she pointed out.

  “No, I don’t. But only God knows what’s going to happen there, and it’s not for us to speculate. Besides, Gant is smart enough to realize that something is amiss when he sees a different bishop at our wedding. And so is Rachel.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said softly, “but it’s hard not to wonder…”

  She let her words drift off unfinished, and another silence hung between them for a few moments. This time it was David who spoke first. “If it should come to that—if the bishop does have to be replaced—how is this done? What’s the process?”

  “Why, a bishop is chosen by lot, just as ministers and deacons are. For a bishop—at least in our Order—only ministers and deacons are eligible.”

  David thought about that. “So that means it most likely would be Abe Gingerich or Malachi or…Samuel Beiler.”

  Susan didn’t look at him when she replied. “Well, Samuel might be considered too young. On the other hand, he’s held in high regard among most of the People, and he’s been a deacon for quite some time.” She stopped, and her voice dropped even lower. “He’s been a good deacon, so he would probably be included in the casting of the lot.”

  David didn’t voice what he was thinking, but he didn’t like to even imagine Samuel Beiler as bishop—for a number of reasons.

  It struck him then that, one way or the other, Bi
shop Isaac Graber’s illness would definitely have serious consequences for the Plain People… his people.

  And certainly for Rachel and Gant.

  Keeping his expression as passive as he could, he turned to Susan. “We need to really pray about this, Susan.”

  She searched his face, and then, as if she had read his thoughts, slowly nodded. “Yes,” she murmured, “I know.”

  36

  THOUGHTS BEFORE A WEDDING

  When days are filled with pure delight,

  When paths are plain and skies are bright,

  Walking by faith and not by sight,

  May they in thee be one.

  WILLIAM VAUGHAN JENKINS

  The next morning David drove off in his new buggy to perform one of the many pleasant tasks associated with his wedding—that of “calling” or inviting those who would be welcome at the wedding reception. Anyone could attend the ceremony itself, but a personal invitation was required for the reception.

  He had already heard from his son, Aaron, that he and his family wouldn’t be attending the ceremony because his wife was expecting a new baby any day. David was disappointed, but Susan had agreed that they should make a trip to Baltimore for a visit soon after their wedding.

  During this morning he would attend to offering invitations to his and Susan’s mutual friends. His first stop was in Riverhaven at Gant’s carpentry shop. As a non-Amish friend, Gant couldn’t be an actual part of the ceremony, but David wanted him there and hoped he wouldn’t have to insist. The stubborn Irishman could be unpredictable at times.

  The front part of the shop was empty when he went inside, so he called out.

  After a moment Gant appeared in the doorway that opened into the back room. David noted that he looked a bit worse for wear, somewhat distracted as well. His hair was a shade lighter from the sawdust sprinkled through, and his carpenter’s apron was heavily splotched with oil and various shades of wood stain.

  He came the rest of the way into the shop, wiping his hands on a cloth. “What are you doing up and about so early, Doc?”

  “I’m always up and about early. Quite a bit earlier than you, most likely.”

  “Thought you didn’t allow your patients to take sick before noon.”

  “Ha! If only. Anyway—I’ve come to invite you to a wedding.”

  “About time. Anyone I know?”

  “Could be. How about the luckiest man in the county and the prettiest Amish widow to be found anywhere?”

  Gant grinned. “Oh, that wedding. Sure, I’ll be there.”

  Surprised, David looked at him. “Well, that was easier than I expected.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for anything, Doc, as long as they’ll let me in.”

  “Actually anyone can come to the wedding—” David started to explain.

  “Even a disreputable Irishman?”

  “Even one of those. You’ll have to clean up a bit, of course.”

  “Consider it done. I won’t embarrass you, my hand on it.”

  Gant’s expression sobered then. “Seriously, Doc—it really won’t be a problem? Even with the bishop?”

  David was careful to keep his expression impassive. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, man. No, it won’t be a problem! I want you there, and so does Susan.” He paused. “And I’m sure Rachel and Fannie do too.”

  Gant’s eyes met his, but he said nothing.

  “Anyway, you won’t be the only Englischer there,” David said briskly. “Now make a note—the wedding is on the ninth, nine o’clock sharp.”

  “In the morning?”

  David laughed. “In the morning.”

  Gant pulled a face. “That’s not even civilized.”

  “I won’t argue the point, but you have to remember that Amish weddings take a few hours.”

  “A few hours?”

  Again David chuckled. “Afraid so. You can amuse yourself by trying to figure out what all the German preaching is about.”

  Gant groaned. “Doc, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?”

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” he said, starting for the door. “I need to get going. I promised to help Susan paint the porch and the outhouses yet this afternoon.”

  Gant shook his head. “This is sad. Really sad.”

  “A labor of love, my friend,” David shot back, doffing his hat as he opened the door. “And what’s more, I also get to help kill the chickens for the wedding feast.”

  Gant stood just outside the shop, watching Doc pull away in his Amish buggy, still shiny and clean. He couldn’t help but wonder just how much things might be about to change between him and his friend.

  He was an unlikely friend, at that, this British physician who had once saved his life. Almost from the beginning, there had been little sign of the age-old enmity between the Gael and the Brit. The friendship that had sprung up between them—surprising them both—had seemingly been built on mutual respect and acceptance of each other’s differences.

  Gant wondered why that should be the case in individuals but not between nations.

  He sighed, not having the energy—and certainly not the time—to speculate on any deeper matters today than filling some of his orders and finishing his wedding gift for Doc and Susan. In fact, he’d been working on the gift when Doc came into the shop. He’d about tripped over himself in his rush to cover it and hurry into the front before Doc could make his way to the back room.

  He would have all he could do to get their gift finished before the wedding. Gideon’s departure with Asa and then the loss of Terry Sawyer had complicated his life—at least the business side of it—considerably. He would surely be glad to see Gideon back in the shop—soon, he hoped, for his sake and for Susan’s as well. Understandably she wanted her boy home for the wedding.

  His thoughts about the wedding gift for Doc and Susan reminded him of the other “special gift” he’d been working on, the one ordered by Samuel Beiler for Rachel’s birthday.

  The taste in his mouth turned sour at the thought. Everything in him rebelled at the idea of Beiler having the right to give Rachel anything, much less a gift fashioned by Gant’s own hands. He wished now he had flatly refused the man’s request to build a sideboard for Rachel.

  Whatever had possessed him to call Beiler’s bluff? At least that was how it had felt at the time. Had it been pride, spite, or plain old Irish stubbornness?

  Beiler had been so smug when he told Gant what he wanted, had actually seemed to savor Gant’s initial awkwardness. Why hadn’t he just swallowed his pride and dismissed the man without even considering the idea? But, no, he simply couldn’t resist the temptation to best the Amish deacon by taking up what he assumed to be a deliberate challenge. He’d had to one-up him just to see the surprise on the other’s face.

  Now he was committed to providing something that no doubt would endear Beiler to Rachel, when what he really wished to do was give the man a swift kick out of her life.

  Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he blew out a long breath and went back inside. With all the work he had to do, there was no time to waste standing around making wishes.

  Indeed, if wishes were fishes, every fool would cast nets.

  Rachel was putting the final touches on the birdhouse she was making for Mamma and Dr. David’s wedding gift. Reminding herself not to be prideful about her work, she nevertheless couldn’t stop a smile at the sight of the white walls, the little blue porch, the intricate roof with its tiny wooden shingles, and the heart-shaped openings she’d cut out for windows.

  If she did say so herself, it looked like a proper gift for a newly wed couple.

  She wanted it to be special. It seemed to reflect her happiness for her mother and Dr. David, as she’d taken to calling him, echoing Fannie’s name for the man who would soon become their stepfather. Mamma virtually glowed with happiness these days, and Dr. David was almost funny—in an ever so sweet way—every time he looked at Mamma with his heart in his eyes.r />
  They were so right for each other! All their friends and neighbors said the same. It seemed that everyone wished them nothing but the best. But why wouldn’t they? Mamma was always doing for others, always helping in whatever way she could, even lending encouragement and practical advice to the younger women who sought her wisdom. She was well-loved by the People.

  And Dr. David—well, there was no measuring his goodness to the Plain People. For years he had sacrificed his time and energy and medical skills for the Amish of Riverhaven. He had been a loyal friend and a blessing to them all long before he and Mamma decided to marry.

  The wedding was to be held at Mamma’s house, where she and Dr. David would make their home. It would be a big event. No doubt almost all the People would attend as well as some of their Englischer friends. Rachel and Fannie had already promised, along with Sally Gingerich and Emma Knepp, to help clean the house from top to bottom a few days before the ceremony.

  They would all feel dear Phoebe’s absence during this time. Mamma had already shed more than a few tears when she spoke of how much she missed Phoebe and how she wished her friend could have been with them to share these blessed days.

  Rachel missed her too but found some comfort in the awareness that, as much as Phoebe would have rejoiced with them during this happy time, she was now rejoicing in heaven. Any pain or fear she had experienced during the awful thing that had happened to her would have been washed away by now. She would be whole and well and at peace.

  She and Mamma often talked about that these days. Mamma was reading Phoebe’s Bible, giving special attention, she’d told Rachel, to the passages her friend had underlined—passages dealing with God’s grace and the salvation available to them all through that grace.

  Rachel could tell her mother was still questioning what Phoebe—and Rachel herself—had come to believe about the assurance of God’s salvation, but she could sense that Mamma was gradually thinking and praying things through on her own. She was convinced that, more than all the discussions they’d had over the past few months about this very subject, those underlined Scripture verses had spoken the truth to her mother.