Where Grace Abides

by BJ Hoff

  “Not at all,” she said, stopping at the porch steps. “Won’t you come inside and have some Coffee?”

  Gant closed the distance between them. “That sounds good, but I’d best explain why I’m here first. I’ve brought something for Fannie. Is she about?”

  “Yes, she and Rachel are in back in the springhouse, helping me gather some food to deliver. We have widows and a few families who need help, so we’re going to pack up some things for them later.”

  She glanced at the basket slung over Gant’s arm. “That’s a mighty big basket you’re carrying around, Captain.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I need to get your permission to give it to Fannie, if you could just spare me a minute.”

  Her gaze traveled from Gant’s face to the basket on his arm, then back to him. “Why don’t we go inside?”

  “Ah…it might be better to stay out here,” said Gant.

  She looked at him. “All right. But come up on the porch and let me set these things down.”

  Gant followed her up the steps to the porch and waited until she turned back to him. “Now then, Captain, you’ve got my curiosity mighty sharp. What is it you need my permission for?”

  Carefully Gant set the basket down on the top step and took off the lid, motioning that she should look inside.

  She stooped over and looked. Her eyes widened and snapped to his. Then she looked again.

  “You understand why I’d like Fannie to have this, Mrs. Kanagy?” he said.

  “Susan,” she corrected him distractedly, still studying the contents of the basket. “Yes, Captain,” she said quietly. “I believe I understand. And you have my permission.”

  “You truly don’t mind?”

  “No, Captain Gant. I don’t mind at all,” she said straightening. Her voice was little more than a whisper when she added, “This is very kind of you.”

  At that moment Fannie came running around the side of the house. “Captain Gant! Did you come to visit?”

  The girl charged directly up to him, her smile wide and bright enough to break through a storm cloud. “Is it all right if I go talk to Flann? He likes me, you know. And I’m not a bit afraid of him, even though he’s so big. Cecil is still bigger, and I’m not afraid of him either.”

  “Fannie! Don’t be so bapplich! So much chatter!” her mother cautioned. “Give Captain Gant a chance to catch his breath.”

  Gant laughed, happy to see the girl’s high spirits had returned after the recent trouble they’d had with the horses.

  He saw Rachel then, coming from the side of the house, walking slowly, a sack of food in each hand, her eyes fastened on him. He swallowed, trying to keep his expression impassive, yet feeling as though his heart must be bleeding through his eyes.

  He nodded as she drew closer. “Rachel.”

  “Captain,” she said, her tone even.

  He hated that, the way she called him as she had at the beginning, before they knew each other. So, then, he would no longer be “Jeremiah” to her?

  He was aware that Susan Kanagy had fixed her eyes on some distant spot across the road, as if reluctant to observe their response to each other.

  It was Fannie who broke the tension. “What’s in that basket, Captain Gant?”

  “Fannie—” said Rachel, a note of rebuke in her tone.

  “It’s all right,” Gant said. “Actually what’s in the basket is a present for you, Miss Fannie.”

  She giggled. For some reason the girl never failed to giggle when he called her Miss Fannie.

  “For me?” She looked at him, as if to see if he was merely teasing her.

  “Indeed. Would you like a look?”

  Fannie nodded so forcefully a few strands of hair escaped the little white cap she wore.

  Gant gestured toward the steps. “You might want to sit down first.”

  Again she studied his expression, but only for a few seconds before hurrying over to plop down on the top step of the porch. Balancing his cane with one hand and the basket in the other, Gant went to sit down beside her, while Rachel set her things down and watched from the bottom of the steps.

  “Here you are, then,” he said, placing the basket in Fannie’s lap.

  She placed her hand on the lid, then hesitated. “It really is for me?”

  “Just for you,” Gant said.

  With that Fannie undid the catch on the lid and lifted it off. She stared down into the basket, drawing a sharp breath and holding it so long Gant wondered if the girl was going to pass out. He lowered his head a bit so he could also peek inside.

  A wiry little pup lifted a fuzzy black head and stared up at them both, his eyes nearly as wide as Fannie’s, his nose testing the air.

  “A hundli!” she cried. “It’s a puppy! Oh! Oh! A puppy!”

  Gant grinned at her excitement.

  She turned to him with an expression of pure joy on her face. “Is he really mine, Captain Gant? For sure and for certain?”

  Gant tugged gently at one of the strings of her cap. “He’s all yours, Fannie. But understand now—he’s going to need a lot of care. This is the first time he’s been away from his mother, you see, so you’ll have to give him a great deal of attention. Oh—and he needs a name as well.”

  Both Rachel and Susan Kanagy drew close enough to have a look at Fannie’s “gift,” offering a generous amount of admiration and interest as Fannie lifted him carefully out of the basket and put him to her shoulder. The puppy immediately snuggled against her and began to lick her face.

  Rachel met Gant’s gaze for an instant, her eyes moist and intent with what appeared to be gratitude. He managed a smile, but fearing his emotions might betray him, he forced himself to turn his attention back to Fannie. “I should tell you that he won’t be this small for very long. I’ve seen his sire, and if he takes after him, he’s going to grow up to be quite a large fellow. So you’ll need to train him well.”

  Susan Kanagy lifted an eyebrow in his direction.

  Fannie saw her mother’s expression. “Don’t worry, Mamma,” she said. “I’ll make good and sure he learns to mind. I’ll do everything for him, you’ll see.”

  “That you will, daughter,” Susan said, her tone dry as she again cast a look at Gant. “Just how big is his sire, Captain?”

  “Pretty big,” Gant replied.

  Another eyebrow went up, but she didn’t look all that fussed with him.

  The sky had been darkening while they talked, and now a low roll of thunder sounded. Gant stood, bracing himself on the step with his cane as he leaned to stroke the pup’s ears. “I should be getting along before it storms,” he said. “Flann doesn’t much like thunder and lightning.”

  “I think we all need to get indoors,” Susan Kanagy said. “You’re welcome to stay and have supper with us, Captain.”

  Gant wanted to stay. But he figured Rachel would be more comfortable if he left. “Thank you, Mrs.—Susan. But Asa would have my hide. He’s cooking tonight, and I told him I’d be back in plenty of time.”

  “Oh, please, Captain Gant! Please stay!” Fannie begged.

  Gant smiled at her. “I’d best not, Fannie. Another time. I’ll want to drop by again soon, so I can find out what you decide to name your new friend there.”

  “Oh, I already know his name.”

  “Do you now?” said Gant.

  Fannie nodded. “I’m going to call him ‘Thunder.’ That way I’ll always remember the day you gave him to me.”

  “Well, now, it seems to me that’s a perfect name for him.”

  With the pup already dozing against her shoulder, she moved closer to Gant and looked up at him. “Danki, Captain Gant,” she said, her face all seriousness. “I’ll take real good care of Thunder. He’s going to be my best friend.”

  “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that’s not the case, Fannie. He’s already taken quite a liking to you, it seems.”

  “He’s a wonderful-gut present, Captain! The best gift I’ve ever had.”

  Anoth
er clap of thunder broke the quiet of the evening, and Susan Kanagy tried to hurry Fannie and Rachel inside. But when Fannie started for the porch, the pup in her arms, her mother stopped her. “Oh, no, Fannie. We can’t have the puppy indoors—”

  “Mamma! We can’t leave Thunder outside! Not his first night away from his mother—and in a storm! He won’t be any trouble, Mamma! I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

  “Fannie, we’ve never kept our animals indoors—”

  “But, Mamma, Thunder isn’t just an animal. He’s special! He’s a special present. Please, Mamma! Please, don’t make him stay outside by himself! He’ll be scared!”

  Susan looked at her, then at Rachel, who smiled and nodded slightly. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt for now, since he’s still so small.”

  Gant watched, not surprised to see Fannie win her mother over. The girl then hurried inside, clearly anxious to make her move before her mamma could change her mind. Just inside the screened door, she turned and waved, flashing Gant an enormous smile.

  Gant turned to Rachel, pleased to see that her smile didn’t fade when she looked at him. “How you’ve blessed my little sister, Jeremiah. I haven’t seen her this happy since—I can’t even remember when.”

  He was relieved to hear her use his name again.

  “I first thought I’d find her a kitten,” he said, “to help make up for the ones that went missing. But I know there’s no replacing something you’ve loved once it’s lost to you.”

  She looked at him, then quickly glanced away.

  Not wanting any more awkwardness between them than already existed, he hurried to add, “As I told Fannie, he’s going to grow up to be a very big dog. And I understand from Jonah Weatherly that his sire is quite the fine watchdog. I thought—with everything that’s been going on—it might be good to have a watchdog on hand. A big one.”

  To his surprise her lips again curved in a faint smile. “I think it might take him a while to grow into his father’s reputation, though, don’t you?”

  Gant relaxed a little and returned her smile. “Aye. From the looks of him, he does have a bit of growing to do.”

  They stood looking at each other in silence for a few seconds more. But when thunder again rumbled in the distance, she said, “You should go before the storm settles in.”

  He nodded. “I expect so. So—it was good to see you again, Rachel.”

  She turned her face slightly away. “And you,” she said softly.

  He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted more than anything else to stay. He wanted to drink in the sight of her, to touch her. “Rachel—”

  Still not looking at him, she lifted a hand as if to stop him from saying anything more. “I—should get inside.”

  Gant drew a long breath. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll just be going, then.”

  Rachel stood just inside the door and watched him go, her heart aching to go with him. She pressed the palm of her hand against the screen, as if she could touch him and call him back.

  Would it be easier to keep her heart from tripping over itself, to keep separate from him, if he were a different kind of man? His gentleness, the kindness that flowed through him like a steadily flowing current only made it that much more difficult not to care about him. It was the very thing that never failed to warm her to him, that called to the deepest part of her and drew her to him.

  If only he were a different kind of man…

  But then he wouldn’t be Jeremiah. And she might not have come to love him.

  No, she wouldn’t want him to be anything other than what he was, even though it meant that the knife in her heart was permanently embedded there. She would rather live with the pain of a love that could never be anything more than a careful friendship than to have him be less than the man he was.

  But she must be always careful—very careful—to keep her feelings for him tightly capped and unseen by those piercing, intense eyes of his. If he should ever recognize how treacherously weak she was, how fragile her emotions really were where he was concerned, he might again attempt to convince her that there was hope for them—hope for a future together.

  When in truth the only hope she dared to hold was that she could survive the future without him.

  13

  MORE THAN ONE SURPRISE

  God’s own arm hath need of thine.

  ARTHUR CLEVELAND COXE

  Once Gant got back to Riverhaven, he had no time to savor Fannie’s excited reaction to the pup. Fortunately there was also no time for the melancholy that had been brewing in him since his brief encounter with Rachel.

  To his surprise Gideon showed up for supper. He’d invited the lad to eat with them a number of times, but he seldom accepted. This evening, though, he turned up, looking scrubbed and polished and in seeming high spirits.

  The boy could be good company when he had a mind to, although of late that hadn’t been the case. This evening, however, he seemed more himself, given to joining in the conversation as well as soaking up Gant’s and Asa’s tales of their travels.

  “Don’t you miss it, Captain?” he said now, having wolfed down the last bite of Asa’s beef stew and biscuits. “Your life on the river?”

  “Sometimes,” Gant said honestly. “It hasn’t been my way to stay in one place for any length of time. But like most anything else, you get used to what you have to do, and eventually it becomes as natural as everything that went before.”

  “I think it would be a swell life, living like that,” said Gideon, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “No kind of life is without its problems,” Gant pointed out. “Most things usually look better from a distance.”

  “Maybe so, but I wouldn’t mind an adventure now and again.”

  “That’s your young blood,” Gant teased. “Even an adventurous life loses some of its luster after a time.”

  They lingered at the kitchen table for a long time, Gideon plying them with questions about one thing or another and Asa clearly enjoying the boy’s company. More than once, Gant sensed that the youth wanted to hear about their work with the runaway slaves, but he stopped just short of a direct question.

  Gant was fairly certain the boy already knew more about their involvement with the Railroad than he let on, but he also figured that the less he actually did know, the safer it was for him. Thus, neither he nor Asa volunteered any information.

  It was well after dark when Asa got up and started to wash the dishes. Gant pushed back from the table as well. “You cooked,” he told the other. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  Asa waved him off only to have Gideon stand and go to the sink. “I’ll help,” he said.

  Gant couldn’t resist needling him a bit. “An Amish fellow doing dishes? Now there’s a surprise.”

  Gideon turned around with a grin. “Have to admit the first few times I cleaned up my own plates it felt mighty strange. I’m used to it now, but Mamm would probably faint if she could see me.”

  “Amish men don’t do dishes?” Asa said.

  “Woman’s work,” Gideon said, still grinning. “Men work outside the house. Women inside.” He paused. “And outside sometimes—in their gardens, taking care of the animals—that kind of thing.”

  “So, your mamma probably would never expect to see you with your hands in dishwater?” said Asa.

  Gideon started to reply, but a knock at the back door stopped him.

  From his place behind the stove, Mac shot to his feet and barked.

  Gant quieted him with a single command. When Asa cast a questioning look in his direction, Gant lifted a hand to indicate he would get the door.

  It was late enough that he wasn’t inclined to simply open up without knowing who might be there. “Who is it?”

  At first his question met nothing but silence, so he asked the second time. “Who’s there?”

  A reply finally came. “A friend of friends.” Then a pause. “Captain Gant?”

  Gant glanced at Gideon, not comfortable with the boy
being privy to this, but there was nothing for it but to open the door.

  The fellow standing just outside was a small, aging black man clad in dusty clothes that hung loosely on his nearly emaciated frame. He clutched a knit cap close to his chest, his eyes betraying a numbing fear that Gant had seen all too many times before.

  “You the captain, suh?”

  Gant nodded. “And you are?”

  “William Bond is my name.” He hesitated, then went on. “Folks in Marietta told us to come here to you.”

  The man’s voice trembled. In truth his entire body appeared to be shaking.

  Gant looked past him. Even in the cover of darkness, he was overwhelmed by the sight that met his eyes.

  “How many are you?” he asked.

  Bond lowered his gaze. “Thirteen of us, suh. Only three full-grown men. Mostly women and children. A few young boys not quite grown.”

  He lifted his face then, and Gant saw clearly that he was expecting rejection.

  “Can you help us, Captain? I know we’s a lot of folks, but the women and the children, they is plain wore out. We need a place to rest and some directions on where to go next.”

  Thirteen! Did he dare to crowd that many into his barn along with the others already out there?

  Children could be noisy. He’d be risking detection for certain. But what choice did he have? If the others were in as poor shape as the man standing at his door, they’d not get much farther before they collapsed.

  He turned to look at Asa, who met his gaze straight-on but with an expression that revealed nothing.

  He could easily be endangering the others already hiding in the barn by adding so many to their numbers. But he didn’t have the heart to turn them away. They had already been through Marietta. He knew of no other conductors in this area. Malachi and Phoebe Esch ran a safe station, of course, but they couldn’t possibly harbor so many.

  “All right,” he said, not without a fair measure of reluctance. “You’ll have to stay in the barn. No lanterns. And no talking—no noise of any kind. You follow Asa here—his lantern is all the light we can risk. I’ll get some food together for you. Be sure you keep the children quiet.”