Again.
IN THE MORNING Aunt Margaret had the report of her mother’s condition. “She was in ICU so we weren’t allowed to see her last night, but dear Dr. Archer said that we should be able to today. They revived her in the ambulance and she’s conscious and able to speak. He says it will take a while for her facial muscles to respond, but she should recover those in time.”
She and Uncle John were going back down at noon. “There’s room in the car for you, Dinah. You don’t need to go down there by yourself.”
So of course there was no getting out of it. The last thing she wanted to do was see the wreck she’d made of her mother. She was torn between satisfaction that she’d finally made her listen and misery because she hadn’t meant to give her a stroke. But that was just like Mom—to escape a reality she didn’t like by getting sick. Down deep she loved her mother, wanted her approval. Somehow that was part of the problem, all wrapped into the Gordian knot in her middle—the knowledge that if her mother silently approved of what Phinehas was doing, then maybe she should allow it.
But that was sick, and wrong. And it was too late now, anyway. She’d been lucky last night. Phinehas had been taken off guard by Matthew’s unexpected appearance. He would want to reassert his authority tonight. There was nothing she could do about it.
When she’d finally mustered the courage to refuse him last summer, he’d told her in the gentlest way possible, his hands soft on her skin, that she needed to be careful. Word could get out, he’d said, about her unwillingness and disobedience, and her glowing reputation would be shredded by the gossip in less time than it took to warn her about it. And then she would no longer be welcome in Gathering. She might even have to face the Testimony of Two Men—the Elect’s way of dealing with profound sin—and be Silenced for seven years, like Tamara. And she’d seen what had happened to her sister, hadn’t she?
Oh yes, she’d seen. She knew God hated sin, that his vengeance was severe and complete. But it always seemed that the vengeance fell the heaviest on the women. Look at Rita Ulstad and Julia McNeill, who had been driven Out. Even Tamara had done nothing more terrible than love the wrong person. Their names were not even to be spoken, although she’d noticed that Rebecca had ignored that rule. But what about the men on the other side of all those equations? Where was their punishment? For heaven’s sake, Tamara’s ex-boyfriend Danny Bell was right here in town, though she hadn’t seen him much lately, and he was walking around unpunished and fancy free.
It was obvious God was a member of some exclusive men’s club, out to grind women under his heavenly heel. And Phinehas, who was in direct communication with him in a way that mere members of the congregation could not know, was following his august example.
In a world like this, Dinah thanked her lucky stars for the river.
But first, she had to visit her mother.
She followed Uncle John and Aunt Margaret down the bright hallway to Elsie’s room and found Dr. Archer there with her. Dinah leaned over the rail of the bed to kiss her, trying not to look at the clear plastic tubing in her mother’s nose and in the back of her hand.
Her mother did not look at her, either.
The visit lasted no more than five minutes, during which Aunt Margaret did most of the talking. When Dinah sat beside the bed and took her mother’s hand, with a fretful movement Elsie pulled it away, murmuring something about disturbing the IV.
Well, she deserved that small rejection. She wasn’t sorry she’d spoken out. Not one bit. But she was deeply sorry it had sent her mother’s blood pressure through the roof and brought this on. And the worst part was there was nothing she could do to fix it. No comfort she could offer. How could she, when there was nothing inside herself but a great big empty hole?
“IT’S JUST SUCH a shame.” Aunt Margaret looked out her window on the way home and her mouth set exactly the way Dinah’s father’s used to, even though they weren’t actually related. “That poor woman has gone through more in the last week than many people do in their whole lives.”
Dinah sank back against the upholstery in the sedan’s backseat and tried to look invisible.
“Someone has to look after her, and Dinah can’t be expected to do everything.”
Dinah suddenly had a vision of caring for her invalid mother for twenty years, with visits from Phinehas every few months. Alone forever, with nothing but responsibility and care and pain, until she died.
“What’s going on in your head, Meg?” Uncle John flipped on the turn signal and turned onto the highway.
“When she’s released, she should come to us,” Margaret said firmly. “She should get away from sad memories and recover somewhere where she has no cares and there are new faces around to cheer her up.”
Uncle John was the kind of man who never made a decision on the spot. He thought for at least a mile, then glanced in the rearview mirror.
“What do you think about that, Dinah?”
Say the right thing. “I think it would be an awful lot of care and responsibility for you folks. I should look after her. It’s my place.”
“But you looked after your dad all those weeks when Elsie had that little breakdown, after you got the diagnosis. You need a break, and goodness knows we have a huge house all to ourselves since the kids have married and gone. There’s no reason why Elsie couldn’t have the downstairs bedroom. And we can take her back and forth to physical therapy and whatnot.”
“Aunt Margaret, you’re the kindest person in the world, but really—”
“No arguing, Dinah. You’re a big girl. You can manage things by yourself for a little while. Then, when your mother is back on her feet, she can come home.”
Dinah didn’t dare feel thankful or even happy in case God noticed and did something to make Aunt Margaret change her mind.
“Bless your heart, Auntie Meg,” she said at last. She hadn’t called her that since she was a little girl. “We’ll do what you think is best.”
Her thoughts rabbited ahead. With her mother gone to Uncle John’s, Phinehas would have to leave, and he wouldn’t be able to come back while Dinah was alone in the house. It wouldn’t look right for a single man and a single woman to share living quarters, even if that man was the Senior Shepherd and a man of God and the woman was a daughter of one of the favored families with a reputation that was beyond reproach. It just wasn’t done, and thank goodness for it. She had at least a couple of weeks of blessed solitude, all to herself. No one to criticize what she did or said or wore. No one to manage her time and tasks. No one to make her do things she didn’t want to do. She would be in control of herself and her environment for practically the first time in her life.
Suddenly Dinah felt ravenously hungry.
Chapter 8
A TINY FROWN appeared on Phinehas’s forehead when Uncle John outlined their plan for Elsie’s recovery.
“To your place?” he repeated. “All the way down in Pitchford?”
“It’s only ninety miles,” Aunt Margaret assured him. “An hour and a half. Less, if John is driving.”
“But what if something should go wrong? What if Dinah has to be there right away?”
Dinah continued to straighten and tidy the living room, as invisible as a servant. But she knew what he was thinking. Oh yes. She knew. Her only hope was Aunt Margaret’s stubborn loyalty and kindness of heart. That was the only thing that would withstand the roadblocks of gentle disapproval Phinehas was bound to throw up.
“It’s just a matter of recovery, Phinehas. Elsie has come through surprisingly well. She’s able to speak. Dr. Archer is convinced that with rest and good care, she’ll recover completely.”
“And her own daughter can’t provide this?” The Shepherd’s tone balanced between gentle amazement and subtle rebuke, though he did not glance at Dinah.
“Dinah has had enough to deal with. It’s time the family stepped in to assist. Now, I know you’re concerned, Phinehas. Of course the Shepherd of our souls has a concern for each sheep
in the fold. But this is the best plan for everyone.”
Aunt Margaret was so sure of herself that Dinah sensed the moment Phinehas decided to back down and not press the matter. After all, he wasn’t a member of the family. And if he expressed his wish that an invalid stay in the house as a helpless chaperone for her, disguising his nocturnal activities, her aunt and uncle might wonder why. And even the mildest question about his behavior was unacceptable to Phinehas. She’d learned that early on.
BY THE END of the week, Elsie was released from the hospital into John and Margaret’s care, and arrangements were made for physical therapy at a clinic in Pitchford. There was no longer any reason for Phinehas to stay, and that last morning, as he packed his suitcase, Dinah fidgeted around the house with a dust cloth and a can of spray cleaner, praying that nothing would occur to stop his going. He still had not visited her room, and her fatalistic side waited for God to strike one last time.
When he came down at last, he had his suitcase in hand. She hardly dared to breathe.
“Ah. Dinah.” He put the suitcase down in the hall by the front door and came into the dining room. “I’d like to speak with you.”
He sat in his usual chair. She sank into a chair two places down, and balled the dust cloth between her hands.
“So. You’ll be on your own, will you?”
“Just for a few weeks. Until Mom is able to come home.”
“What will you do?”
She did not lift her eyes. What did he mean? “What I always do. Look after the animals. Do the books. Keep the house ready in case it’s needed for the Lord’s work.”
“I’m glad you’re still thinking about that. I’ve wondered at the depth of your willingness to serve, lately.”
Oh, how she hated him. “I’m always willing to serve . . . God,” she managed.
“Are you? Even now?”
Now? Oh, no. No. Be wise as a serpent and gentle as a dove. “Yes, now, except that I’m expecting Mr. Nicholas any minute. I’m supposed to go over the paperwork for the grazing rights with him.”
“Mr. Nicholas.” Phinehas’s tone was thoughtful. “It looks bad, you know, Dinah.”
“What does?” She lifted her eyes.
“You alone, with only the hired man for company. Sleeping here.”
“He sleeps in the barn. And he’s no threat to anyone.”
“I wasn’t thinking he would be a threat to you. Quite the opposite.”
She blinked at him for a moment, trying to understand what he was getting at.
“What do you think God’s people would think of you and Mr. Nicholas all alone out here?”
“I expect they would think he’s our hired man.”
Phinehas shook his head in sorrow. “We hope that God’s people would think the best of each other. But there are always the cynical few, like the prophet Jeremiah, who see that the human heart is deceitful above all things. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Most people in Hamilton Falls think well of me,” Dinah choked.
“I would hope so. But we don’t want to give them any reason to do otherwise, do we?”
“No.” He was going to override her choice to hire Matthew, to take it away just as her father had taken away her choices and overridden her decisions all her life. The hatred was a stone under her ribs, pulling her chest toward the table.
“Your aunt and uncle—who mean well, I know—have acted against my counsel. I’m going to think and pray on this matter. There must be a solution that will enable you to serve your God and King without stirring up any whispers among the worthy people here.”
She should have known God didn’t really have his back turned. He’d just been waiting for her to feel a little bit secure, a little bit hopeful, and then he would gleefully whip the rug out from under her feet. The landing was going to hurt. She knew it.
“Good-bye, Dinah.” Phinehas got up and reached for her concealed hands, sliding his under the rim of the table and gripping her inner thigh. “You’ll be hearing from me.”
Her stomach turned over with a sickening thud, and he released her. She stood in the doorway and waved as he drove off, not because she wanted to, but because she had always done so and it would look odd if she didn’t.
Then she snatched her jacket off its hook by the back door and pushed past a surprised Matthew, who was coming up the steps for his lesson in leases.
“Dinah? What—”
She ignored him and took off for the back side of the barn at a dead run.
SHE HAD ALREADY disposed of her breakfast by the time Matthew caught up with her. After burying the contents of the white plastic bucket, she stood the shovel against the wood rail of the composting box and straightened.
“What did he say to you?” Matthew felt slightly out of breath; he had a long way to go before he was as fit as she believed he was.
“Who?” Dinah set the bucket down and went around the side of the barn to the chicken pen. Matthew followed her.
“Don’t play games. The only person, it seems, that can make you upchuck a perfectly decent breakfast.”
“I told you before, it’s none of your business.”
“Dinah, can’t you see I’m trying to help?”
She threw a handful of what looked like dried corn on the ground so viciously it bounced, and the chickens, who had been dancing around her with eagerness, scattered.
“Nobody can help. The only thing you can do is the work I hired you to do. My life is my business.”
Matthew took a firm hold on his patience. Her rage was probably all she had to hang on to, the only thing that kept her standing. She couldn’t help but use it as a weapon against people like him, who insisted on butting in and mouthing platitudes.
But something in her eyes, remnants of the despair he’d seen at the river, made him try again.
“I saw him put his suitcase in the car. How long before he comes back?”
She gathered her skirts behind her knees to keep them out of the dirt and knelt to apologize to the chickens. “Sorry, babies. It’s not your fault. It’s mine . . . I don’t know. He’s cooking up some scheme so he can stay here, but I just don’t know what it is.”
“Would it help if I were in the house? Rather like a chaperone?”
A dry glance told him what she thought of that idea. “If my parents and relatives sleeping down the hall don’t stop him, how do you think you can?”
“I don’t know. I could lie across your threshold with a rifle.”
“Right. And add back pain and concealed weapons to your list of problems.”
“I assume that if you could tell him to stop, you would have done so long ago. What sort of blackmail is he using on you?”
She sighed and stopped fussing with the birds. “Matthew, it’s not your problem.”
“You have to talk about it with someone, and I don’t see your relatives stepping up.”
“I don’t have to talk about it at all.”
“If you don’t want me, there’s One you could talk things over with.”
“Who? A psychiatrist?”
He overlooked her bitterness and spoke gently. “I was thinking more of God.”
For one dreadful moment he thought he had made her cry. She covered her mouth with one hand and whooped, and then he realized with a shock of humiliation that she was laughing. Not nice laughter, either. Derisive, mocking laughter. Directed at him, and worse, at his suggestion.
“Matthew,” she said, when she’d finally regained control, “if you can’t come up with something more helpful than that, you’d better stop trying.”
He mustered his dignity, willing the burning blood out of his face. “You don’t believe God can help you?”
That produced a roll of the eyes and another laugh. “Not likely, when he’s the one who’s been doing this to me. It’s all one—Phinehas, God, my father. The trinity of misery. The only thing prayer would do is bring me back to God’s attention, and goodness knows I’ve had enough of that. Attent
ion from him is what makes me glad I’ve got the river.”
Matthew tried to focus his reeling thoughts into words that might have meaning for someone who believed the spirit of love was an angry old man out to get her. “He loves you, Dinah. He gave the one thing he loves most so that you could have life.”
She waved that away. “I gave the one thing I loved the most, too, so Phinehas could have dinner.”
“But your sacrifice didn’t cover Phinehas with grace and make it possible for him to look into the Father’s face without sin.”
“Oh, great,” she said. “Is that what I have to look forward to? Eternity with Phinehas? But I suppose there he won’t have to worry about sneaking around. Having girls at his disposal will be his reward. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll take my chances with the river.”
Her dependence on suicide as a source of comfort frightened him more than anything else. “Please don’t talk like that. The God I believe in doesn’t condone what Phinehas is doing.”
“He’s sure allowing it, though, isn’t he? Whether he’s your God or mine, the result is the same.”
Pain and fear and self-loathing. Those were the results of such belief. He watched her walk away and felt the grief well up in him again.
“Please help her to see you, Father,” he murmured. “Use me in whatever way you need to bring that about. And Father? If it’s possible, do it before she manages to get away from me and find her way back to the river.”
HE MIGHT BE nosy and naïve, but at least he was smart. Matthew comprehended the ins and outs of grazing rights and property lines and cattle shipments after one explanation and recited how many of the neighboring ranchers’ animals they grazed in each pasture in a way that told Dinah he probably had photographic memory, too.
He was smart in another way—or maybe it was just a healthy sense of self-preservation. After his ridiculous comments out at the compost heap, he left the subject of Phinehas severely alone and spared her any more of his philosophy about the love of God.
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