by B. J. Hoff
“David? Is something wrong?”
He blinked, even managed a ragged smile. “No. Well—I understand what you’re saying, but I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some way…”
His words weakened and faded away unfinished.
She was watching him closely. “So Gant is taken with Rachel. I thought so.”
“I—Susan, I can’t speak for him. It wouldn’t be right.”
She nodded. “You don’t have to. I can tell. It’s written all over your face.”
“No, what you think you see has nothing to do with Gant and Rachel!” he blurted out.
Immediately horrified by his outburst, he tried to cover his mistake. “I mean—it’s not what you think.”
Still she studied him, her eyes filled with questions. “Then… what?”
He looked at her, pain clamping his chest until he could scarcely breath.
“David, are you all right?” Susan started to stand, but he put up a hand to indicate that he was fine.
Her look was skeptical, even fearful.
He had to tell her. That was all there was to it. He had to risk everything and tell her why he’d come here this morning. He thought he couldn’t bear the look of rejection that was sure to follow what he had to say, but the pressure building inside him simply would not allow him to stay silent any longer.
But where were the words to make her understand?
“What I came to tell you…is the very thing you fear for Rachel and Gant. I love you, Susan. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even remember when it began. I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I simply cannot keep my silence another day…”
The words continued to ring in Susan’s ears long after he spoke them. She felt as if she were suspended in a dream, for surely this couldn’t be real.
But it was real. She felt his hand clasping hers, holding it as if he feared she might jump from the chair and run away.
“Try to understand,” he was saying in a voice that didn’t sound like David’s voice.
“I had to say it just once. Please don’t hate me for what I can’t help, Susan. I’ve carried this with me for so long. For years now.”
She didn’t dare look at him. But she did look at him—she had to. And there it was, the love he’d just a moment ago professed, a love shining in his eyes but clinging to her like an embrace. Truth was he might just as well have been holding her, for the strength of his gaze had drawn her in and wouldn’t let her go.
“Susan—say something or I’m going to die right here at your kitchen table.”
“Oh, David, what can I say? You know there can’t be anything between us. It’s impossible!”
He was gripping her hand so hard she almost told him to let go, that he was hurting her. But she didn’t want him to let go. So she said nothing.
“Susan—will you tell me just one thing?”
She waited.
“The truth now—forget for a moment that I’m an outsider— do you have feelings for me? Do you?”
She tried to swallow against the knot lodged in her throat but couldn’t. He knew. But how did he know? She’d been so careful…
“I—oh, don’t ask me that! Don’t! Surely it shows…every time I look at you. That’s why I so often don’t look at you.”
His eyes lighted. “So you do care for me.”
“We can’t talk about this, David. We can’t be together…like this… or talk about our feelings. We can’t. I could be shunned for this!”
“Listen to me, Susan. Just…listen for a moment.”
He tightened his hold on her hand, and Susan winced.
He saw her reaction, gentled his touch, but didn’t release her. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her fingers. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt you.”
Susan’s head swam. She had never passed out in her life, but in that instant she thought she might.
“What if I were to convert to your faith?” he said.
His question came as though shrouded in a fog. “What?”
He smiled a little. “Gant said something last night—he was teasing, but after I thought about it, I’m not so sure he was all that far off the mark.”
He paused and then went on to explain. “He told me I don’t seem that much different from the Amish, that he sees many of the same things in me that he sees in the Plain People. I attempted to laugh it off at the time, but later when I thought about it, I had to concede that he might have a point.”
“You’re not serious. Would you do that? David, you mustn’t think that way!”
But even as she challenged him, Susan felt a spark of hope ignite and begin to burn.
“Oh, I realize there’s much more to becoming Amish than merely adapting to your lifestyle. I’ve been close to you and your people too many years to think it would be easy. But, Susan, you need to know this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about the possibility.”
She looked at him and saw no hint of anything but the truth looking back at her.
He leaned even closer to her across the table, still holding her hand, still holding her with his eyes as well. “The truth is I’ve thought about it many times, Susan. There’s much about the Amish life that holds a strong appeal for me—much besides you, I mean. What do you think? Could I make it happen? Would I be accepted?”
He seemed to genuinely need an answer, but she couldn’t think with him holding her hand and looking at her…that way. Gently she slipped her hand out of his and tried to consider a truthful reply to his question.
“Honestly, David, I don’t know. The bishop and our leaders would have to give their permission. They like you—everyone in the community likes you and respects you—but it’s hardly ever that anyone from the Englisch world is successful at becoming Amish. I know of
a few who tried, but they gave up after only a few weeks. They found our ways too hard and too different from what they were used to. There was one man and his wife who managed, but it took them a long time—nearly two years.”
“Two years?” David’s eyes widened. “Why so long?”
“There’s so much to learn—including our language. It’s required. Of course, smart as you are and as often as you’ve heard it spoken over the years, you probably wouldn’t have all that much difficulty. But you’d also have to learn our ways—the Ordnung and all the tenets of our faith—everything. And you’d be on a kind of ‘trial’ throughout the whole time. You’d have to live among us, and you’d be watched for any failures or slipups.”
She thought for a moment. “I think they’d probably let you go on with your doctoring, although you’d not be allowed to practice among the Englisch again.”
Other than his initial surprise at the length of time it might take, he seemed unfazed by her explanation. When she’d finished, he again reached for her hand.
“And once this ‘trial’ is over, Susan—will you marry me?” he said, his voice low. “Will you?”
She searched his gaze with an intensity that almost hurt her own eyes. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I think you know I am entirely serious.”
Unexpectedly she felt tears fill her eyes. Perhaps it was because his sincerity and the unmistakable depth of his emotion overwhelmed her. Perhaps it was because she finally realized that her own feelings just might not be completely futile after all. Or perhaps it was because she had tried so hard to repress those feelings, to bury them in some safe place where no one would ever know. But now that she knew how he felt, she couldn’t go on trying to deceive him—or herself—any longer.
“I can’t let you turn Amish just so we can be married…”
“Nor can you stop me. Susan, listen carefully to what I’m about to say. I believe that last night the Lord Himself gave His blessing to this decision.”
“David—”
“No, wait. I’ve thought about it for months now, and in all honestly, I can tell you that there’s much abou
t the Amish life I want for myself. It’s true that I want you more than anything else. I won’t deny it. But I also crave what you and your people so obviously have. I’ve committed the sin of envy more than once when I’ve been among the People.”
He stopped, squeezed her hand but with great care this time. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Susan closed her eyes and then opened them to find his gaze still locked on her. “David, if you’re willing to do all that…and if the bishop gives his permission…yes, I’ll marry you. But you understand it will be a very long wait. And we’ll be watched. Closely.”
He smiled. “Then if you’ll allow it, I’d very much like to kiss you now, while there’s still no one watching.”
She felt the heat of a blush stain her face, but she nodded her consent.
34
THE GIFT OF FORGIVENESS
And forgive us our debts,
as we forgive our debtors.
MATTHEW 6:12
Rachel enjoyed having her little sister stay overnight, but she thought maybe she’d best be sending her home later today. Fannie had spent the past three nights at her house, and no doubt their mother was missing her.
Although they’d had a good time together, Rachel was still concerned about her sister. Physically, Fannie seemed to have healed well from the attack, but it was the girl’s emotional well-being that worried Rachel.
She was quieter, more contemplative. Too often a hint of sadness darkened the eyes that had once fairly danced with eagerness and delight for life in general. Rachel longed to help but so far hadn’t been able to get Fannie to open up.
Truth was, Rachel understood all too well how difficult it was to confide in anyone, even one’s own sister, after an event of this nature. In her case it had been Dr. Sebastian who had finally managed to draw some of the details about her attack from her and at least start her on the road to healing. But perhaps because Fannie was so young, she didn’t feel comfortable sharing her emotions, even with their physician and family friend.
Maybe if Gideon hadn’t left home, he would have been able to gain her confidence, but his leaving had left Fannie confused and hurting. Even after Gideon returned and attempted to explain the reasons for his departure, Rachel could see that Fannie didn’t understand. All she knew was that she missed her big brother terribly and wanted him to come home.
So did Rachel. She was so used to him stopping by in the mornings or evenings to see what odd jobs she might need done or simply helping himself to whatever she might have baked that day. She had no idea how many times she looked out the window, expecting to see him loping across the field on his way to her door.
His leaving had left her torn. She thought she understood Gideon’s frustration and at least some of his reasons for feeling the need to get away. Gideon had never accepted the Plain life easily, had always had his own firm ideas about how things should or should not be handled. Yet Rachel had always believed he would eventually make peace with their Amish faith and turn to the church.
Now she had to wonder if he ever would.
With Gideon gone Rachel felt even more than ever that Fannie needed to talk about her feelings. So after they ate their lunch, she deliberately lingered at the table, making light talk as she waited for an opening to move their conversation to a more serious level.
“So what do you think about our mamma and Dr. Sebastian?” she said. She thought this would be a safe subject to broach with Fannie because she was fairly certain her sister’s feelings about their mother’s astonishing news were the same as her own.
After the first shock of learning that the doctor and their mamma had found love together and were hoping to eventually wed, Rachel was genuinely happy for them. She had seen Dr. Sebastian’s affection for Mamma for a long time, and lately she’d begun to suspect that her mother returned his feelings. She had worried about what the situation might mean to them, but with the doctor’s decision to convert to the Amish faith, surely things would all work out just fine.
“Well,” Fannie said, “I love Mamma, of course, and I like Dr. Sebastian a whole lot. So I think it’s wonderful-gut that they’re going to marry.”
“It will be a long time, though,” Rachel cautioned. “There’s much the doctor has to do after he gets the bishop’s permission.”
“Bishop Graber will give his permission, won’t he, Rachel?”
Fannie’s features pinched to such a concerned frown that Rachel reached to smooth her forehead. “I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t. He has great respect for the doctor—as do we all. I’m sure he’ll allow him to become one of us. Don’t you worry about that. It’s going to be all right. Let’s just be happy for Mamma and Dr. Sebastian.”
“Oh, I am happy for them! And won’t it be a fine thing to have Dr. Sebastian around all the time instead of just once in a while?”
After another moment Fannie made a remark about hoping Gideon would come to visit soon, and Rachel saw her chance to deepen their conversation. “Are you worried about our bruder, Fannie?”
Her sister thought for a moment and then said, “I miss him—a lot. But I don’t worry about him, at least not very much. Gideon’s really smart and strong. He’ll be all right. I just wish he still lived at home.”
Rachel watched her. “Then what are you worried about, sister?” she said softly. “Something troubles you, I can tell. Are you still upset about those boys who hurt you?”
Fannie glanced away. “No. Not so much.”
“What then, Fannie? You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything.”
Fannie turned to her, searching Rachel’s features as if looking for reassurance. “It bothers me that some folks are still so angry.”
Rachel took her hand. “What do you mean, ‘angry,’ Fannie? No one’s angry with you!”
“No, not with me. But they’re angry with those boys—the Englischers. And I feel it just as much as if they were angry with me.” She cast another look at Rachel. “You’re angry. I know you are. And Captain Gant too. I can tell. Even Dr. Sebastian is angry. And Phoebe and Malachi—though they don’t say much, I can feel it. And Gideon— Gideon is awful angry.”
Rachel sat back, momentarily bewildered. “What do you mean, you can ‘feel it,’Fannie?”
Her sister’s young face appeared drawn, intent on gathering her thoughts and forming the words to explain exactly what she meant. “When people are angry, it feels like the room gets smaller and darker. It makes me feel…closed in. And sad.”
She paused and then added, “If it makes me sad, it must make Jesus even sadder.”
Rachel waited, saying nothing because she didn’t want to chance distracting Fannie now that she was finally opening up to her.
“Mamma and Bishop Graber always say that Jesus loves all of us— Plain people and Englisch people and even not-so-gut people—and that we’re supposed to love like Jesus does. And that means forgiving them like He does too. But if we stay angry with someone who does us a wrong—even if it’s a really bad wrong—then we’re not loving or forgiving like Jesus, are we? And I think that must make Him really sad.”
She stopped, but the combination of unhappiness and confusion that had been so evident in her for weeks still looked out at Rachel. “I guess I don’t understand why people don’t just do what Jesus says. When we don’t, everybody seems to hurt a lot and stay angry and awful sad.”
Rachel studied the thin little face with the enormous eyes, now so serious and intent, and felt her own emotions struggle behind a wall of conflict. “What about you, Fannie?” she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “Have you forgiven the boys who hurt you?”
Fannie looked at her, her gaze steady and clear, and nodded. “At first I couldn’t. But, truth be known, Rachel, I was never really mad at them. I was mostly scared—and hurt. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed that they probably didn’t even understand that what they did was wrong. I mean how can you know you’re doing somethi
ng wrong unless you know what’s right?”
With a shake of her head, she went on. “I think mostly the people who do mean things to us think we’re bad because we’re different from them. People like those boys—and those men who hurt you and Eli—they must not know about Jesus. At least they don’t know that He loves everyone the same way, including them. Otherwise they might not do the things they do. But no matter what they do, we’re supposed to forgive them, just like Jesus does.”
Fannie uttered a small sigh. “I think maybe ‘forgiving’ is called that because it’s like a gift that you give someone. Even if they’ve done bad things to you and don’t even say they’re sorry—even if they just don’t like you at all and you know they might hurt you again—you’re supposed to forgive them anyway. If that’s not the way it’s supposed to be, then why does the Lord’s Prayer say ‘forgive us as we forgive our debtors’? Doesn’t that mean that if we don’t forgive them, Jesus won’t forgive us?”
Her voice dropped so low Rachel could scarcely make out her words. “I’m still afraid of those boys. And my back and other places where they hit me still hurt sometimes. But ever since I forgave them, my heart doesn’t hurt. And that was the worst hurt of all.”
Shaken, Rachel felt a great stillness surround her as her heart cried out within her at the simple, piercing truth of Fannie’s words. And she suddenly knew that her nine-year-old sister had just handed her the healing ointment for her own wounded spirit and hurting heart.
Much later that afternoon, after Fannie had left for home, Rachel knelt before her Lord and wept and prayed, emptying herself of the bitterness, the resentment, and the debilitating anger that had enslaved her for so long. In so doing she discovered that the gift of forgiveness had been near at hand all the time. She had only to claim it and give it.