by B. J. Hoff
“Nothing is impossible, Rachel. Nothing.”
But he knew this wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now. Not after everything she’d been through today and after what he’d learned about her husband tonight. She was clearly exhausted, depleted.
Besides, he had to think. There had to be an answer to all this somewhere. The last thing he had expected at this point in his life was to meet someone like Rachel. It was even more incredible that he would fall in love with her and that she was falling in love with him—he had absolutely no doubt.
But for now he knew he had brought her as close as he dared, so when she eased herself away from him, he didn’t protest.
Even though every instinct in him begged for her return.
28
ASA
God give us men! A time like this demands
Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands…
JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND
Three days after Christmas, Asa and his passengers were still stuck at a farm in northern Tuscarawas County. Here they were to wait for the new conductor who was to take Asa’s place and lead his passengers the rest of the way to Canada.
Asa daily praised God that this station belonged to a prosperous farmer who had added a well-hidden secret room to the main house for the sole purpose of sheltering runaways and their guides. Here they had found a warm shelter with plenty of food, clean bedding in the form of quilts and mattresses on the floor, and kindhearted folks who kept watch over them as if they were members of their own family.
But when there was still no sight of the new conductor, who was to have arrived at the farm two days before Christmas, Asa feared the worst. He also realized that his responsibility wasn’t going to end here as planned. Instead it seemed that he would have to be the one to take his charges the rest of the way.
He was thankful the women and children were all in good health—Mattie’s baby included—but their supplies were nearly all used up, and the money the captain had sent with him was getting low as well. He didn’t like asking for help, but if he was to take his people the distance, he had no choice.
The Lord bless him. Mr. Walter Eberhardt, an aging German immigrant and their “host,” was quick to offer whatever assistance they needed. “You’ve only to tell me what you require. I will gladly replenish your supplies and see to your money needs. But you and your people are welcome to stay here as long as necessary.”
“We appreciate your kindness, sir. We surely do,” Asa replied. “But we both know that the longer we stay in one place, the more we risk being caught. It’s been five days now, and I’m thinking we had best be on our way by tonight.”
The other nodded. “You tell me what you need, and Mrs. Eberhardt and I will start getting things together for you.”
Although Asa felt a certain reluctance in leaving that night, he suspected the women and children hated to leave even more. To go from a warm, seemingly secure shelter, where there was no hunger and never a harsh word from their benefactors, back onto the road again, into the cold, raw night where there seemed little or no protection, came as a hard shock. They had enjoyed comfort and security for days.
Nevertheless, Asa had to give them credit—even the children scrambled into the wagon with little in the way of whining or complaining. As for the two women, perhaps it was because both Dinah and Mattie were so set on freedom, for themselves and for their children, that they seemed to maintain a cheerful outlook on whatever might lie ahead.
Asa’s concern, as they drove away, was twofold. He feared being discovered by the slave hunters that prowled the state—even a free state and one removed from the South. He also held a fair measure of anxiety about how Captain Gant was getting along with his injury and handling the uncertainty of Asa’s whereabouts.
He tried to reassure himself with the reminder that the Amish folks seemed to be good people. Hadn’t they demonstrated a generosity of spirit by taking them in during the middle of the night, sending for their own doctor to care for the captain, and through it all not treating two strangers as lesser men but as human beings who needed help?
Still the captain wasn’t their responsibility. It was for Asa to protect this man who had purchased his freedom and risked his own life for him, and he did not take that role lightly. God had brought Captain Gant into his life when he was most desperate, and he meant to repay his Lord and the captain in any way he possibly could.
So tonight, as was his way every night, Asa prayed for the safekeeping of his good friend—his only friend other than Jesus his Lord—and for grace to be extended by the ones who looked after the captain in his absence.
And, of course, included in his nightly prayer was the continuing plea for Ariana, wherever she might be.
29
DR. SEBASTIAN’S RETURN
He’s heart-sick with a longing sweet
To make her happy as she’s fair.
COVENTRY PATMORE
Dr. David Sebastian made it safely back home to the farm in spite of the snowstorm, but he arrived three days later than he’d planned.
Tired and somewhat irritable after the long train ride, he unpacked quickly and then went to Riverhaven, first to check on Gant. He found his tenant-patient in good condition, albeit with a head cold. He wasn’t surprised the man had a cold once Gant filled him on the events that had transpired in David’s absence.
Neither did he waste any time on conversation after hearing about Fannie Kanagy. He proceeded to rebutton his coat even while he continued to question Gant. “So have you heard anything about her since then?”
Gant nodded. “Gideon stopped by this morning. He said she’s still coughing a lot and doesn’t seem all that well, but her fever is gone.”
David let out a quick breath. “Well, that’s something then.” He picked up his medical case from the table, where he’d set it upon entering. “And Susan and Rachel? Are they all right?”
“Worried, I’m sure, and anxious for you to get back. But otherwise I expect they’re fine.”
“Well, I’ll go there right away.” He took a close look at Gant. “Have a care with that cold. You don’t need it going to your chest. You’re not entirely well yet, you know.”
Gant shrugged. “The worst of it is already gone.”
“Do you have enough food laid in? Anything you need?”
“No. Rachel and her mother sent enough for two men the day before Christmas. I have plenty. There is one thing, though—”
“What’s that?”
“I need to get to a bank and a telegraph office reasonably soon. Some things I have to take care of.”
“I need to go into Marietta myself. I was planning on going tomorrow. You can go with me if you like.”
Anxious to be on his way to see about Fannie, David left after a hurried goodbye.
Susan Kanagy could have buckled with relief when she opened her front door and saw David Sebastian standing there.
“Oh, David! You can’t imagine how glad I am to see you!”
He smiled. “Under other circumstances that kind of greeting might give me a swelled head,” he told her. “However, I just came from talking with Gant, so I expect I know why you’ve been wanting to see me.”
Susan had no intention of admitting that she was always happy to see him—too happy. Instead she stood aside to let him enter, taking his coat and hat and hanging them on the peg by the door.
“How is she, Susan?”
She put a hand to her cheek, quickly lowering it when she realized she was trembling. She hadn’t slept well since Fannie’s attack, and it was all she could do to force a few bites of food down. Consequently, she sometimes felt weak and even a little lightheaded.
“I’ve been putting poultices on her chest,” she said, “but her cough is deep, and she says it hurts. I’ve tried to do everything you’ve taught me to do when she’s like this—the poultices, the steam tent—but other than her fever breaking last night, I don’t see much improvement. She’s g
oing to be glad to see you. So will Rachel—she’s over at Phoebe’s right now, but she should be back soon.”
She turned to start down the hall, stopping when David put a gentle hand to her arm. “Susan—Gant told me what happened. I couldn’t be more sorry that she went through that—that you had to go through it, as well.”
She nodded. Weak as she was right now, David’s kindness nearly undid her. “I’m just so thankful Captain Gant saw her and went to her. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for him, going out in the snow like that, with his leg injured.”
“He’s a tough fellow. No worse for wear, from what I’ve seen, other than a head cold.”
“He’s a good man, David.”
“Yes, he is. A very good man.”
One look and David knew that Fannie was a very sick little girl. But her eyes, dulled by the illness, brightened considerably when he walked into the room, and her smile was wide enough to warm his heart.
“Dr. David! You’re finally back!”
He ruffled her hair. “Indeed I am, Fannie. And I brought my bag of medical tricks with me. Are you ready to get well?”
She coughed and then rolled her eyes. “Yes, please. I don’t like having to stay in bed.”
“That’s because you’re always such a busy butterfly, flitting around doing this and that.”
She smiled again, but there was a sadness about the child that squeezed David’s heart. Even though he’d been with her only a moment or two, there was no mistaking the obvious—Fannie had lost something precious on Christmas Day. A part of her innocence, her genuinely sweet and openhearted view of the world, had been spoiled, tainted by the cruelty and ugliness borne of bigotry and ignorance.
Being Amish, Fannie and her family would forgive the bullies who attacked her.
But for his part, David wasn’t so sure he could.
After his visit with Fannie, David took Susan up on her offer of coffee. In the kitchen he stood near the stove, his mouth watering as he watched her pour coffee and set out a tray of apple bread and strudel.
“Sit, David,” she said, gesturing to the table. He hesitated, but he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast that morning, and the aroma of her coffee and pastries was simply too fetching to refuse.
“So, David—what do you think?”
He took a sip of coffee before replying. “It’s not pneumonia, Susan.”
She put both hands to her face and let out a long breath. “Oh, thank you, Lord Gott. Thank you!”
“But we’ll have to watch her closely,” he cautioned. “She has a chest cold. Your nursing has made a considerable difference, I believe. The bruise and cut on her head will heal naturally. I examined her back, and there’s no swelling in her kidney—we can be grateful for that.”
He paused and then went on. “I think she’ll be fine, Susan—physically. But you know, some of our hardest blows strike the heart with more force than the body. Those…bullies…hurt her heart badly. But because Fannie is the kind of child she is—bright and alert and outgoing—I’m hopeful this isn’t going to do any real emotional damage. Even so, we’ll need to keep a close eye on her for a while.”
He stopped for a bite of strudel. “Because she can count on a wonderful family and several friends in the community—everyone loves Fannie—she doesn’t have to go through this trauma alone. And that can make a significant difference.”
Susan was watching him closely as he spoke, nodding and squeezing her eyes shut once or twice as if in relief.
“We’ll take good care of her, Susan. She’s going to be all right.”
“If you say so, David, I believe it. I’m so grateful to you.”
“Well. I’m also grateful to you. This is the first good food I’ve had in days. My daughter-in-law is a lovely girl, but she can’t cook at all.” He shook his head. “Terrible.”
“Oh, shame on you, David. I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She pushed the plate of apple bread his way. “Help yourself now. I’ll fix some things for you to take home.”
“I’m not too proud to accept an offer like that.” He studied her for a moment. “Tell me how you are, Susan.”
She reached to touch her kapp. “Oh, I’m all right. I just need to get the pictures out of my head—the thoughts of those boys treating Fannie like that. I can scarcely bear to think of what they did, and yet I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.”
He nodded. “Do you have any idea who they are? Did Fannie recognize any of them?”
“No. Not a one. All she knows is that they were Englisch. Oh, David, they hurt her so!”
Gant had told him most everything that happened, but David didn’t indicate as much. He went on listening to her, sensing her need to talk through it again, perhaps with someone a bit more “clinically” minded than Rachel or Gideon.
At the moment, however, he didn’t feel all that professional. He felt like going after the young thugs with a club.
“I think it was awful hard on Rachel,” she said, her voice trembling. “It brought back everything…with Eli and all…”
Her voice broke, and David reached to cover her hand with his own. But only for a moment. He didn’t dare touch her at length.
He stayed for quite some time, longer than was justified. Even though his Amish families always insisted on feeding him after a visit, he didn’t try to fool himself—it wasn’t the food that kept him at Susan’s table, nor was the excuse of waiting to say hello to Rachel all that credible. The truth was that he simply didn’t want to leave.
He didn’t want to leave Susan—a problem that was becoming all too common.
All the way home he thought about how he had missed her while he was away. Of course he missed her any other time as well. Whether he went for only a day without seeing her or several days, he missed her.
He’d done a lot of thinking about that during his trip, about the way he craved the sight of her, the ache that invariably started up in him when he was away from her. Ordinarily he wouldn’t allow himself the indulgence of thinking about her too much or too often. But lately he couldn’t seem to discipline his thoughts as he once had.
Consequently he’d found his mind following paths he’d never traced before. Ideas taunted him, danced in front of him with possibilities he’d never allowed himself to consider until now. At times he daydreamed like a lovesick schoolboy. Other times he forced himself to abandon thinking of her altogether.
But those times were becoming fewer and fewer. His thoughts seemed bent on betraying him when he least expected it.
In any event he had more thinking to do, more praying to do. He needed to figure out if he’d abandoned common sense altogether, or if it just might be possible that God was trying to present him with some answers to the prayers he’d already prayed…and he was simply too dull-witted to hear Him speak.
He gave a long, weary, and frustrated sigh as he turned onto the lane leading up to his house. Was there ever a more foolish man than a man hopelessly in love?
Well, yes. An Englisch man in love with an Amish woman—now there was a foolish man indeed.
30
NO GOODBYES
Man is caught by what he chases.
GEORGE CHAPMAN
This was a Sunday without services. The Riverhaven Amish had preaching services every other Sunday in different homes or sometimes in barns. There was no permanent church building, a practice which harked back to the days in Europe when the People were hunted down, persecuted, and even martyred for their faith.
On a Sunday when there was no preaching, they most often used the time to visit with family and friends. But because of Fannie’s condition, it had been a quiet day at home for the Kanagys.
That night, quite a bit after her usual bedtime, Susan sat in the front room reading her Bible. Rachel had gone back to her own home earlier in the week, and Fannie was already asleep for the night. The child tired easily these days. Although she was showing improvement, she still had a wearying cough and
needed a lot of rest.
When she heard the kitchen door shut and the familiar sound of Gideon’s footsteps, Susan breathed a silent prayer of thanks that he was home. It wasn’t unusual for the boy to spend a night in town every now and then with an Englisch friend, but this was the first time he’d stayed away so long without her knowing his plans in advance.
When he first walked into the front room, Susan tried to settle a stern look on him. But so relieved was she to see him safely home, she couldn’t pretend a pique she didn’t feel. She merely watched him over the top of her eyeglasses and said nothing.
He seemed surprised to see her sitting there and stopped in the middle of the room, giving a little lift of his shoulders. “Mamm. You’re usually in bed by now,” he said.
Susan put her Bible down on the table beside her chair. “I’ve been staying up later every night, tending to Fannie—and hoping to see my son come home.”
He looked at her, as if trying to judge her mood, but glanced away when she met his gaze. “I’ve been at Orson’s.”
Susan nodded. “I thought as much. Why, Gideon? With your sister hurt and sick, why would you leave for so long a time instead of staying here at home? We didn’t even know where you were.”
Still he didn’t look at her but stood staring down at the floor. “I just needed…to get away.”
“You chose a poor time for that, son. You were needed here.”
Without warning he whipped around, and it was then Susan saw that the impatience and frustration that had flared in him days ago still burned. He ran a hand through his hair. “I might as well tell you, Mamm—I’m leaving. I just came home to get some of my things.”