by B. J. Hoff
13
A GOD-FEARING MAN
By mercy and truth iniquity is purged:
and by the fear of the LORD
men depart from evil.
PROVERBS 16:6
Another three days passed before Gant asked about his belongings.
“I had a suitcase,” he said to Rachel, “about yea big.” He spread out his hands to show her. “There were some things in it—money, for one, which I’ll need to pay the doctor, and a couple of changes of clothes—”
“—And a fiddle,” Rachel finished for him. She said nothing about the photograph of the pretty lady. “There was a Bible, but I’m afraid it’s ruined.”
He twisted his mouth. “The fiddle—I expect it’s ruined too.”
“I laundered your clothes—they were soaked—and emptied everything else out on a table in the other room. The money’s there.” She pointed to the chest of drawers. “I think the fiddle might be all right. It seems to have dried out just fine, though I’m not sure about the strings.”
He expelled a long breath. “Thank you, ma’am. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me.”
Rachel bit back a smile. No one had ever called her “ma’am” except Mr. Snider. It made her feel as old as a grossmutter. Not that her grandmother in Indiana had ever seemed old to her. Last spring when Mammi Hannah had come to visit, she’d helped can and bake and plant flowers like a woman half her age.
Gant was sitting up in bed today and looking much better. Gideon had come and seen to the captain’s personal needs and even given him a shave. Gant appeared more lively and seemed more given to conversation now than at any time since he’d first arrived.
“Dr. Sebastian will be by later this afternoon to change your dressing,” she told him.
“Who is this Dr. Sebastian anyway? What’s the connection between him and your people?”
“No connection, except that he’s doctored most of us for several years now. He’s a good friend to us.”
“That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? I’d have thought you folks would have one of your own kind tending to your medical needs.”
“No,” Rachel said. “It takes too much education to be a doctor, and the Amish don’t go to school so long. Dr. Sebastian has lots of schooling. We’re blessed to have him.”
“I have to wonder how a Brit ended up in a place like this.”
Rachel frowned. “A Brit?”
“An Englishman.”
“Oh. Yes, he’s Englisch, but also a friend. It’s difficult to think of him as an outsider anymore.”
“No, I mean he’s really English. Not like the Englisch you call outsiders, such as myself.”
Rachel stared at him.
“He comes from England,” Gant said.
“Oh—ja, I know. That’s right,” she said, smiling, “the doctor is Englisch, and he’s English.”
He was watching her with a peculiar expression, a look that put Rachel on edge. “I wish you’d sit down and talk for a bit,” he said, motioning to the chair beside the bed. “You scurry in and out of here like you’re scared to death of me. Frankly, I could use the company, if you can spare the time. The days are what you might call deadly dull.”
Truth be known, Rachel could almost imagine how long the days probably seemed to him. She suspected he was a man given to lots of activity. It must be terribly hard not to be able to do anything but lie in bed.
She could almost feel guilty because she hadn’t made an effort to be friendlier and help him pass the time. On the other hand, she was too busy to sit and talk much.
Besides, while she wasn’t exactly afraid of the auslander, she was uncomfortable with him. He was so straightforward, so blunt in his way of speaking. And his eyes were bold. Too bold. She found it almost impossible to meet that deep blue gaze directly. Something about the way he watched her made her feel as if she amused him.
No doubt, like most outsiders, he found her and the rest of the Amish to be oddities, peculiar in their dress and customs and their plain way of living.
Ja, vell, he could think what he liked. She wasn’t the one propped up in bed with a bullet hole in the leg. Still, after a brief hesitation, Rachel sat down.
“Where’s your little girl this morning?” he asked.
“Oh, Fannie isn’t my daughter. She’s my sister. She’s studying her lessons in the kitchen.”
“She doesn’t go to school?”
“No. Lots of Amish families teach their children at home instead of sending them to the Englisch school. We like to know what they’re being taught, to make sure their values remain Christian.”
Gant made no reply, merely looked at her as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.
Was he a Christian man, she wondered?
She decided to ask. After all, she was providing him shelter. Didn’t she have a right to know what kind of man was beneath her roof?
Her question brought a look of surprise, then a quirking at the corner of his mouth. “Are you thinking an Irishman isn’t likely to be a Christian, Miss Rachel?”
Rachel sensed he was deliberately trying to goad her. Well, she didn’t embarrass all that easily. And even if she did, she wasn’t about to let him see it.
“Truth is, I don’t know anything about Irishmen at all. I’m just curious, as I should think you would understand, about the kind of person I’ve given shelter in my home.” She paused. “And you needn’t call me ‘Miss.’ I’m just Rachel.”
“I expect you’re right to be concerned about your sister’s education,” he said, the small, cynical smile still in place. “And even more to care about what kind of man you’ve taken into your home. Be easy… Rachel. Sure, and I’m no saint, but I’m not a devil either. You might say I’m a God-fearing man.”
He seemed always to be making light of things. Even things that were meant to be taken seriously. Rachel didn’t know what to make of him. But she was relieved to hear that he feared God. Hopefully, that meant she needn’t fear him.
“Where is your home, Captain Gant?”
“Mostly on my boat. Until it burned up.”
“You don’t live in a house?”
He shrugged. “I have a house. But it’s precious little time I spend there.”
“Well—where is your house?”
“In Virginia, ma’am. Rachel.”
“Dr. Sebastian says you came here—to America—from Ireland.”
“Aye, some years ago now. I settled in New York—Brooklyn— when I first came across. But later, when most of my trade started coming from the South, I moved to Virginia.”
Rachel was hesitant to ask her next question, but she was curious. Thinking of the woman in the photo, she said, “And your wife and family, then? They live in Virginia?”
“There’s no wife or family,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry—”
He waved off her apology. “No need to be sorry. The simple fact is, no woman is ever going to put up with the way I live, what with my being gone most all the time.”
Rachel didn’t know what to say, and so she said nothing at all. With the knowledge that he wasn’t married, though, the question remained about the identity of the pretty young woman in the photo he carried with him.
Just then Fannie appeared at the door. “Rachel—” she stopped, apparently remembering her manners as she glanced toward Gant. “Hello, Captain Gant.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “And good morning to you, young miss.”
Fannie giggled. But her expression quickly sobered. “Rachel, Bishop Graber and Deacon Samuel are coming. They’re getting out of their buggy now.”
Rachel stood. She had to make a concentrated effort not to groan in front of Gant and Fannie. She had known it would come to this. Even so, she wasn’t at all sure she was ready for it.
Gant reached to touch her lightly on the arm. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve brought on you.”
Rachel stood. “Any trouble here
is only what I’ve brought on myself. Besides, Bishop Graber is a kind man. Though he and Samuel will probably want to see you as well.”
Gant shrugged. “Fine by me.”
Maybe not so fine for me, though, Rachel thought as she headed for the kitchen.
“Come, Fannie. I imagine the bishop will want to speak with me alone. Say your hellos and then take your lessons to your bedroom.”
“Are we in trouble, Rachel?”
Trying to ignore the weariness creeping over her, Rachel managed a smile for her little sister. “You are in no trouble at all,” she said, giving Fannie’s slender shoulder a pat. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Everything will be just fine.”
Rachel wished she’d had time to change from her choring dress before welcoming the bishop. But no doubt he was used to women greeting him in their work dresses when he came calling. Besides, Bishop Graber wouldn’t be concerned about her appearance. He was calling for one reason, and that was because a stranger—an outsider—had found shelter under her roof.
Rachel knew the bishop and some others in the community faulted her as being less submissive than the other Plain women. She had been reprimanded more than once for her outspokenness and for “dabbling” in the Englisch world with her birdhouse business.
She had no illusions but what she was about to receive yet another talking-to for providing aid and refuge to an auslander.
Patting her hair and securing her kapp, she started for the door. She might just as well get this over with.
Rachel’s assurance that everything would be all right didn’t fool Gant. The taut set of her delicate features and the frown that creased her brow told him otherwise. She was dreading this meeting with “her bishop.
He hated the trouble he’d made for her and wished there was something he could do to smooth things over a bit. He rubbed his fingers over the sleeve of her dead husband’s nightshirt, thinking.
It struck him then that perhaps there was something—a small thing, but it might help.
Turning, he dipped his hand into the bowl of water beside the bed and splashed his face and hair. He lowered the pillow and rolled onto his back, pulling the bed clothes snug around him except for his head.
Then he shut his eyes and waited.
14
FOR THE GOOD OF RACHEL
…her eyes deep wells that might
cover a brooding soul…
JOHN BOYLE O’REILLY
“Guder mariye,” Rachel said, holding the door open for the bishop and Samuel to enter.
“Good morning to you, Rachel. And to you, Fannie.” As was usually his way, the bishop spoke in the Deitsch of their people.
His greeting was cheerful enough, but his smile seemed mostly for Fannie, not for Rachel. As for Samuel, he was as solemn as if he were about to preach a funeral sermon. At Rachel’s invitation, each man took a chair at the kitchen table.
As soon as Fannie excused herself and went to the bedroom, the bishop turned to Rachel, his expression grave. “Deacon Samuel and others have made me aware of the outsider you’ve taken in, Rachel. I understand the stranger had been shot and needed help…but why did he come here, to your home?”
With his white, flowing beard and considerable girth, Isaac Graber might have presented a formidable figure. But his manner was mild, his voice quiet, and he spoke to Rachel with the same kindness he’d often shown her throughout the years.
She had nothing but respect for the man who had served as their bishop for as many years as she could remember. Even so, she knew the probing gaze and stern reproach of which he was capable and shrank inwardly at the thought that she might be about to experience it.
No doubt Samuel had given the bishop an earful about Captain Gant, but it was obvious the older man expected a full accounting from her. So after both men declined her offer of refreshment, she proceeded to explain the events that had brought the badly wounded Gant and Asa to her door.
Bishop Graber listened without interrupting until she had finished. “And this other man who accompanied him—the man of color—he is no longer here?”
“No, Bishop. The man called Asa went away on…some business for Captain Gant.”
“So you are here alone with this man—this riverboat captain?”
The tone of his voice gave every indication that he not only disapproved but was troubled as well. Then there was Samuel, who sat watching her with a hard, accusatory stare.
“It’s not like that, Bishop. Not really. You see—”
But he didn’t give her time to explain.
“Rachel, I do not want to embarrass you,” the bishop continued, “but there are things I need to ask. Who tends to this man’s…personal needs?”
Rachel felt the anger rise, but despite her discomfort, she would not be humiliated by these intrusive questions. When she hesitated, she saw Samuel lean forward slightly, his large hands knotted on the table.
“Gideon comes every morning,” she said. “And he stops again in the evening after work. And Dr. Sebastian, of course. He comes by to change the dressing on his wound and examine him. Mamma comes often too, and Fannie is staying here for now, day and night.”
The bishop nodded slowly, and Rachel thought her reply had satisfied him.
Silent up until now, Samuel finally spoke up. “What do you know about this man, Rachel? Do you have any idea how he was shot—or why? Where does he come from—and why did he come to your house? What’s he doing in Riverhaven in the first place?”
Rachel fumbled for answers to his questions, but annoyance with Samuel for his red-faced diatribe clouded her mind, and it took her a moment to formulate a reasonably coherent reply. “He was shot by mistake. He stepped in front of his friend to save his life. The bullet was meant for Asa—the man who accompanied him here. As to where he comes from, his home is in Virginia, though he spends much of his time on his boat. I’ve already told you, he’s a riverboat captain.”
Samuel twisted his mouth in an expression of distaste. “A man with no roots, living on a boat. An undependable sort.”
The bishop held up a hand to silence Samuel. “It’s not up to us to judge, Samuel. We know nothing about this man, except that he allowed himself to be shot to save his friend. That would seem to be a mark in his favor.”
“If it’s true,” Samuel said, his tone grudging.
The bishop went on. “Even though this man may be a good person, Rachel, he is still a stranger to you, to all of us. And his being here puts you in a difficult situation. You know that no Plain woman is to be alone with an Englisch man. Not under any circumstances. Not only that, but the longer he’s here, the more you’re exposed to his worldly nature.”
“And at risk that he might try to take advantage of her in some way,” Samuel put in. “Rachel is naturally unaware of the dangers an outsider holds for our people.”
Rachel shot a look at him, amazed that he could say such a thing. A flush of crimson stained his face, indicating that he knew he’d misspoke.
Bishop Graber frowned. He, too, seemed to find the remark out of place.
Rachel drew a long, steadying breath. “I would hope that my faith is strong enough to resist a stranger’s worldly influence. And I am not so easily taken advantage of, Samuel.”
He drew back a little, as if restraining himself from saying more.
“Please take me to this man now, Rachel,” said the bishop. “I would like to meet him.”
Rachel hesitated and then stood to comply.
The two men followed her into the bedroom where she stopped short just inside the doorway. She stood staring at Gant. What in the world…
He had nearly buried himself beneath the quilts, with only a portion of his face exposed. His eyes were closed, his hair and his face damp, as if he were perspiring heavily. He moaned, thrusting his head from side to side without opening his eyes.
Rachel’s surprised gaze went from Gant to the washbowl on the table next to him. Beside her now, the bishop sa
id in a voice little more than a whisper, “I can see that the man is in much pain. What does Dr. Sebastian say about his condition?”
She looked back at Gant. Still distracted by this unexpected change in his appearance—but with understanding beginning to dawn— she nodded. “He’s made…some progress, but he’s still very ill,” she said carefully. “I thought perhaps you’d spoken with Dr. Sebastian and knew the seriousness of his condition. I should have prepared you—”
“No, I haven’t seen the doctor for several days,” Bishop Graber said, still whispering. He inclined his head toward the door. “We won’t disturb him. We’ll stop by another day soon.”
Back in the kitchen, a silence hovered between them. The bishop finally broke it, saying, “You seem to have worked things out that allow you to be cautious, Rachel. And it’s clear this man presents no threat in his present condition. But once he grows stronger and is able to move about, we’ll need to help you make other arrangements in order to protect yourself and make sure he has the proper care to recover. We can’t let him suffer simply because he’s not one of us.” He paused, studying her. “In the meantime, you will be vigilant and keep yourself well-removed from this man.”
Rachel glanced down at the floor. “Yes, Bishop.”
She felt Samuel’s gaze hard on her, but she refused to meet his eyes, even though he turned back to look at her when they stepped outside the door.
After the bishop and Samuel left, Rachel took a moment to collect herself before going back to the bedroom, where she found Gant again propped up against a pillow and dabbing the moisture from his face with his sleeve.
He stopped when she entered the room, watching her with an unreadable glint in his eye.
Rachel stood staring at him, her hands clasped tightly at her waist. “I can’t believe you did that.”
