Rachel's Secret

by B. J. Hoff

  Finally the door creaked open, though not all the way. She stood there, those big dark eyes of hers wide and wary, the head covering she called a kapp all starched and neatly in place. She had never looked lovelier.

  Gant wanted to grab her up in his arms and carry her off.

  That’ll endear you to her, all right. What woman wouldn’t want to be abducted by a grizzly bear?

  “Rachel,” he said.

  She stared at him, clearly debating whether or not to let him past the door.

  “Jeremiah, I don’t think—”

  She stopped, her eyes locking with his. Then, as if she’d seen something in his face that told her he wouldn’t be denied, she sighed, eased the door open, and stood aside as he entered.

  She watched him take his coat off, almost snatching it from him, at the same time saying, “You can’t stay. Not long.”

  But apparently she’d seen Doc’s buggy parked out front. “I suppose, though…anyone who might be nearby will think it’s Doc who’s here.” She paused. “Not that that would be acceptable either.”

  “But not as unacceptable as I am, right?” he said.

  She ignored him, hooking his coat and cap on the peg by the door before turning to him with obvious reluctance. “Would you like some coffee?” she said.

  That was his Rachel. She never forgot her manners.

  “No, Rachel. No coffee or tea. Nothing right now. Though later, if you don’t throw me out, you might talk me into a slice of pie.”

  He watched as she swallowed. It seemed to take a long time and a good deal of effort.

  “May I sit down?” he finally asked, determined not to carry on the intended conversation while standing just inside her front door.

  “Oh—yes. All right.”

  Even though he’d declined her offer of coffee, she led him straight to the kitchen.

  No doubt she felt safer with a table between them.

  Gant didn’t believe she was actually afraid of him. More likely she was afraid to be with him, afraid of the repercussions that could come if they were known to be alone in her house after dark.

  Or any other time.

  He hated that, hated that she had to guard against being seen with him. But he had things to say to her, things he was determined she should hear. He hoped that just this once she could get past her reluctance to break the rules, her fear of the consequences if she did break the rules…and hear him. Really hear him.

  He waited until she sat down and then instead of sitting down across from her, as she probably expected him to do, he pulled up a chair beside her.

  She drew back a little, eyeing him as if he were trespassing on private property.

  And in a way, he supposed he was.

  37

  FORBIDDEN LOVE

  What if the dream came true?

  PADRAIC PEARSE

  He sat so close to her that Rachel caught the clean scent of his soap, felt the radiating warmth of his body. He extended his hand, palm up, and after staring at it for a few seconds, she placed her hand in his. He held it tightly—not so tightly as to hurt her, but more as if he feared she might try to pull away from him. She felt the callused strength of his grip and, at the same time, felt her resistance to him drain away.

  “Rachel?”

  She looked at him, his smile drawing her into the deep blue pool of his eyes, so that she couldn’t quite bring herself to look away.

  “You know I’m in love with you?” he said quietly.

  That was his way, she realized. Always direct, even blunt. Never wasting time on idle talk. Jeremiah believed in coming right to the point.

  It was both infinite joy and unspeakable agony to hear those words, to know that she was loved by such a man…and to know an almost annihilating grief because the love was futile. Verboten.

  “I know you think there can be nothing between us,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “I have to believe you’re wrong about that, Rachel.”

  She darted a quick look at him. “Jeremiah—”

  He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “Just…hear me out. Please. I have to say this to you. Right now, tonight, there are things I have to say.”

  Rachel heard the slight unsteadiness in his voice, felt a fleeting tremor in the hand clasping hers. But more than anything else, she saw his love for her, too tender and too deep and overflowing to be anything but real. She had seen it before, and she saw it again now. She could have wept at the cruelty and bitterness of such a love…such an incredible, wondrous kind of love that could never be anything more than a reflection in the eyes, a longing in the soul.

  A forbidden love.

  Her heart felt as though it were bleeding.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Rachel,” he said, his voice hoarse and unsteady.

  She looked at him.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said again, “but you’re wrong. You and I, we’re meant to be together. We belong together. And I believe that somehow we will be together.”

  “Jeremiah, don’t do this! You know it’s hopeless. The only way we could ever be together is if I were to give up being Amish, abandon my family, my entire way of life…”

  “I’d never ask you to do that,” he said quickly. “I know you couldn’t

  do it.”

  “Then why, Jeremiah? Why did you even come here tonight? You’re only making it harder. Soon you’ll go away. You’ll go back to your old life, and in time, we’ll put all this behind us as if it never happened. It’s insane—it’s not right—to stir up feelings that can never be more than dreams, to pretend there’s a future for us when we both know—”

  “I’m not leaving, Rachel.”

  His words, the quiet finality in them, brought Rachel up short. “What?”

  “I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But your boat—your work—”

  “My boat was torched, remember? Well, there’s another boat, but it’s strictly for cargo.” He smiled a little. “All kinds of cargo.”

  “Your work with the runaway slaves…”

  “That will go on. But in a different way.” He paused. “According to Doc, my traveling days are pretty much over.”

  “Oh Jeremiah, I’m sorry! I didn’t know.”

  He shrugged. “I can still work with the railroad, but in a different capacity. There’s no reason I can’t help with shelter for the runaways— and supplies. I’ve already laid the groundwork for that. But Doc says no more living on the river or trekking miles at a time through the woods. Not with my leg as it is, and he seems to have no great hopes it will improve much more than it already has.”

  Her heart ached for the disappointment this must be to him. His love for the river and his life on that river had been transparent every time he talked about it.

  Immediately she wondered what he would do now. He wasn’t the kind of man to handle idleness well. “Is Doc absolutely certain of this?”

  He nodded. “I argued with him, of course. We both enjoy a good argument now and then. But I know he’s right. I already had my suspicions before he gave me the facts in his own inimitable way.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Well, as it happens, I have a new line of work. I bought Karl Webber’s carpenter shop. Signed the papers just today.”

  Her mouth actually dropped open. “You didn’t! ”

  He nodded, smiling at her surprise. “I did. In fact I had just come from meeting with Webber and his attorney when I ran into you at the store. Webber is a patient of Doc’s, you see, and when Doc found out the shop was going up for sale, he told me about it right away, knowing my inclination toward woodworking.”

  She studied him. “I didn’t know that about you—that you liked to work with wood.”

  He drew a long breath. “I expect there are a number of things you don’t know about me, Rachel. I intend to remedy that yet tonight.”

  “Does Gideon know—about your buying the
shop?”

  Again he smiled. “He does. We had a nice chat after you and I parted. I’m not too sure how he feels about working for me, but he did seem pleased to know his new employer has every intention of keeping him on.”

  “Oh, Jeremiah. He’s probably thrilled!”

  “He may not be for long. My crew always found me somewhat of a hard taskmaster on the river. But we’ll see.”

  He raked a hand down the side of his face. “There’s something I want to make perfectly clear before I say anything more. I’m not staying here because of my leg, Rachel. I had already made the decision to stay before Doc forced me to face reality about my bad leg and what it means for my future.”

  Rachel tried not to read too much into his words, but she couldn’t help but ask. “Why…did you decide to stay?”

  “I’m thinking you already know the answer to that. I planned to stay because of you.”

  “Even knowing I wouldn’t leave the Plain life?”

  “Aye, even knowing that as I did, I also knew I couldn’t leave you. I have to be close to you, you see.”

  Slowly and with no small measure of frustration, Rachel shook her head. “I don’t understand. When you know there can never be anything more than friendship between us…”

  “I happen to believe there can be a great deal more between us, Rachel. That’s why I’m here.”

  Unnerved by his searching look, Rachel glanced away. This was so hard, knowing that he loved her and that he cared enough to stay, simply to be close to her—oh, she couldn’t listen to anything more! The hopelessness of it all was crushing the life from her heart. What could he possibly think to achieve by telling her all this?

  And then a thought struck her. But, no, surely he wasn’t expecting that…

  As if he could read her mind, he released her hand only to tilt her chin with one finger and search her face with a questioning look. “What?”

  “You’re not thinking I’d have a…an affair with you?”

  His eyes went hard. “No, Rachel. I want marriage. Children. A lifetime.”

  “Stop it! You’re just being…stubborn. Stubborn and foolish, and you’re hurting me! What if I told you that I’d want those things too—if it were possible? If it weren’t forbidden. Don’t torment me with the thought of something we both know we can’t have.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted in what appeared to be an expression of dry humor. “Do you know, that’s the second time tonight I’ve been called stubborn? I’d hoped for better from you, Rachel. On the other hand, it takes a certain measure of patience to be truly stubborn. And where you’re concerned, I’m prepared to be as patient as necessary to resolve our…difficulties.”

  “What are you getting at, Jeremiah?” His wry demeanor and his attitude of calm and cool reason were beginning to exasperate her.

  “Just tell me this, Rachel,” he said. “If you weren’t Amish or if I weren’t Englisch, would you marry me?”

  38

  KNOWING JEREMIAH

  Judge not the Play before the Play is done;

  Her Plot has many changes; every day

  Speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the Play.

  FRANCIS QUARLES

  She stared at him in disbelief. “That’s a totally ridiculous question. I am Amish, and you’re Englisch.”

  “Irish, actually. Even so, if we were on equal ground, do you love me enough to marry me?”

  “Really, Jeremiah, I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. In the first place, I hardly know you—”

  “—you’ve known me for months, Rachel.”

  “We’ve been acquainted for months. But I don’t know you, not really. Why, I don’t know anything about you—”

  He leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. “What do you want to know?”

  Her annoyance with him gave way to confusion. “What do I—well, for one thing, I don’t even know how old you are.”

  “Thirty-six. Does that really matter?”

  She studied him. “You look older.”

  Both eyebrows shot up. “Why, thank you, Rachel. Pardon me while I remove the arrow from my back.”

  “Would you stop it?”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop being so…just stop it, Jeremiah. The thing is, I don’t know anything about your family—your parents, if you have brothers or sisters—nothing. You can’t possibly love someone you know nothing about.”

  His expression sobered. “My father died when I was still a boy. I scarcely knew him. My mother died before I left Ireland. My two younger sisters are still in Ireland. They’re married and have children.”

  “I’m sorry—about your parents,” she said.

  “What else would you like to know?”

  Truth be told, there were only two other questions she felt compelled to ask him. But did she have the right?

  He started this, she reminded herself.

  “You remember that I unpacked your travel case when you and Asa first came to Riverhaven—”

  He frowned. “And?”

  “There was a photo. A young woman. A very lovely young woman. Is she someone who’s…special to you?” Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, it occurred to Rachel that she was acting as if she had the right to pry into his past when she didn’t, not at all. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—”

  He waved off her apology. “It’s all right. The photo is of Asa’s sister.”

  “Asa’s…sister? But she looks—”

  “—white?” He nodded, a smile that wasn’t really a smile creasing his features. “She’s half-white. Asa’s parents were both slaves, brought here from some island or other. But Ariana’s father was a white plantation owner.” He paused. “A slave has no recourse. If the owner wants her, he simply takes her.”

  Sickened by the thought, Rachel said nothing else.

  “Apparently, during a photographer’s visit to the plantation to take family photos, Ariana caught his eye, and he snapped a couple of pictures of her as well. Asa and I each carry a copy with us because we keep hoping to find her.”

  Rachel looked at him. At her unspoken question, he explained. “Ariana tried to run away from the plantation. The owner was showing a little too much interest in her. Asa did his best to protect her—she’s much younger than he—but there is no real protection for a slave. She was caught before she got far, and as her…punishment…the owner sold her into a brothel.” He stopped. “She was sixteen years old at the time.”

  Rachel gasped. “That’s awful.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what some slave owners are capable of. Anyway, after I bought Asa’s papers and hired him on, we searched for her everywhere we went. We were able to track her to a house in Louisiana once, but by the time we got there, she was gone. That was the last we ever heard of her. But we keep her photo with us just in case someone might recognize her. It’s been hard for Asa. He never got over what happened to her. He blames himself, but there’s nothing he could have done.”

  He stopped. “In truth, if there’s any blame, it’s mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighed, dropped his arms away from his chest, and splayed both hands on top of the table. “Asa doesn’t know this, but I found her once. He wasn’t with me—he’d stayed with the boat while I went into Charleston for supplies. As usual, I showed Ariana’s photo around, and a storekeeper happened to recognize her. He told me the name of the brothel where I could find her.

  “She was there all right. She’d aged badly—there was no missing how hard and jaded she’d become. I told her to stay put, negotiated with the owner of the place to buy out her…‘contract’…and went to the bank to get some money. By the time I got back to pay her way out, she was gone. She left word with one of the other women there to tell me not to come after her or try to find her. She said she didn’t want to ‘leave the life.’But I think the truth was that she was ashamed of what she’d become and didn’t want Asa to know.”
>
  He framed his head with his hands, and Rachel didn’t know which bothered her most: the tragic story of Asa’s sister or the look of total dejection that now enveloped Jeremiah.

  “I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

  She put a tentative hand to his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Jeremiah. You tried to help her.”

  He lifted his head and the look of pain and defeat in his eyes made Rachel catch her breath.

  “I never told Asa how close I came to getting her out of there. To this day he doesn’t know what happened. I don’t know how he’d feel about me if he were to ever find out, but I do know how hard it would be for him to lose his hope of finding her again.”

  “I can’t imagine anything changing Asa’s opinion of you,” she told him. “He’s completely devoted to you.”

  “And I to him. Asa’s the reason I can call myself a Christian and not feel like a total hypocrite.”

  “Asa?”

  He nodded. “Asa told me the truth at a time when I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as the truth. I owe Asa more than I’ve ever owed any other man in my life. And I’ve repaid him by withholding information about his one surviving family member. Information he’s entitled to know. I never thought of myself as a coward, but in this case, there’s no other name for it.”

  “You’re no coward, Jeremiah. You simply don’t want to face hurting a friend. But maybe at some point, you ought to tell him after all.”

  He nodded. “I know. And I will. I just…keep waiting for the right time. And the right time never seems to come.”

  He made a visible effort to collect himself then, straightening in the chair and adopting his earlier, lighter mood. “So—what else, my beauty? Any other secrets you want to pry out of me?”

  “There is one…”

  “Have at it, then. I can’t seem to refuse you anything.”

  She could feel the heat of embarrassment already creeping up her face. “The scars on your back—who did that to you?”