Jacob's Way (37 page)

“It's those two lines that bother me. ‘The sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast…' I can't get away from those lines, Ben. They seem to haunt me.”

“Hate to see you troubled,” Ben murmured.

“You've had more trouble than I've ever had.”

“Doubt that. I never got run out of my country afraid of gettin' killed like you and Jacob.”

“Death concerns me, Ben. I'm afraid of it.”

“I guess maybe everybody backs off from death a little bit.”

“You saw so much of it in the war—so many men killed. Were they all afraid?”

“Some didn't show it, but I was. I was pretty good at puttin' on a front. A lot of us joked to cover up what was inside when the cannons began to go off and the musket balls began to whistle around our heads.”

“But you're a Christian, aren't you? Christians believe in the resurrection.”

Ben Driver was silent for a long time. “When I was thirteen years old I found the Lord—or thought I did. I stayed close to him, although I had some bad ways. I always knew that I was trusting Christ, but then the war came along, and I began to doubt. I still doubt him, I guess. I don't doubt that God's there, and I don't doubt that Jesus is the Savior. What I doubt is—am I one of his sheep or not?”

The fire crackled, throwing its warm breath toward the two. The blanket was comfortable to Reisa, and she was totally aware of the strength and warmth of Ben's body. She felt safe and secure for the moment, but still the sadness when she thought of the possible loss of Jacob was almost overwhelming. They sat quietly for a long time, and finally she began to weep—something she had rarely done. The tears rose in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and Ben turned quickly and looked at her. “What is it, Reisa?”

“I—I don't know, Ben. I'm so afraid!”

Ben Driver knew something about loneliness, for he had known little else for many years. Even in the busy bustle and action of the war, he had felt somehow alone. The prison years had caused him to build a wall around himself, but now with the warmth of the fire and the warmth of Reisa's form held in his embrace, he suddenly felt a strange emotion. Partly it was compassion for this girl so lovely and with all the graces of womanhood. Partly it was the old hungers that rise in a man that turn him toward a woman and draw him when he himself is almost unaware of the drawing. He knew she was a good woman, and this also drew him toward her. He had known women who were not good, and had nothing but distaste for them. But now he reached out with his other hand and drew her around so that she faced him. “Don't be sad, Reisa,” he whispered. “We're all alone in some ways, but we can believe in each other.”

She lifted her head, and her eyes sparkled with the tears, and her cheeks were damp. Compassion came to him and something more than that. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against hers. She was so brokenhearted and lonely that she came to him, and as he kissed her, she put herself against him. Driver knew they were on the edge of some mystery that every man and woman face, neither knowing what good would come of it or what tragedy would come of it. Her nearness sharpened all his long-felt hungers, and the shape of her lips and the lovely turnings of her body stirred him as nothing ever had before. She had a woman's fire and spirit with a woman's soft lips, and she was almost totally unaware of her beauty and of her power to stir him.

Reisa had not resisted. Her hand rested on the back of his neck, and somehow she knew there was more than a wish to comfort her lying behind Ben's embrace. He was a strong man in the prime of life, and Reisa knew enough to understand he was holding her as a man holds a woman that he desires.

She gave herself to him freely as she never had to any other man. A confusion swept through her, and she was conscious only of his lips on hers and of his strong arms around her.

Then suddenly Ben stiffened. He drew back, drawing his hand across his forehead in a strange gesture. Reisa felt him remove his arm, and the abruptness of his gesture troubled her. “Why did you stop, Ben?” she whispered. “Don't you want me?”

Ben turned and saw the poignant light in her wonderful clear eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“Why did you stop then?”

“Because I had to, Reisa.” He struggled to find the words. They were difficult for him. He had been locked up away from women for four years, and now that she was beside him in all of her richness and warmth, he knew that he had to draw back.

“I don't know if I can make you understand this, Reisa,” he said slowly. “You're a good woman. Maybe the best I've ever known except for my mother and Pru. But you're innocent, and I'm not. You don't know what a life I've led, and I'd hate for you to find out.” He turned to face her then, but kept his hands locked together. “A woman should be better than a man,” he said finally. “All men are squirming around in the dust fighting lust and every other ungodly thing that comes into our minds! But a woman should be better than that—and you are. That's why I drew back, because I didn't want to spoil you. You're a woman who has to have God, and I'm not a man of God.”

Reisa did not understand this. All she understood was that for the moment everything in her cried out for Ben to hold her in his arms. This frightened her also, and she dropped her head, saying quietly, “Good night, Ben.”

“Good night, Reisa.”

Making her way to the wagon, she lay down fully dressed, pulled the blanket around her, and closed her eyes. She had no hope of going to sleep at once as Dov did. She was shaken to the very core of her spirit by Ben's caress. She knew she could not ever forget what had risen in her, a desire for him such as she had not known in her young life. She was ashamed of it—yet at the same time there was a queer streak of pride, for she realized that she was capable of being stirred physically. She had heard of women who could not be, and she had always feared that she might be one of these.

She stayed awake a long time, until finally from exhaustion she began to drift off. As she did, she prayed, “Oh, God, who are you? Where are you? I'm so confused! I love this man—but I can never have him! And I love you—but I don't know who you are!”

Twenty-Nine

R
everend Berry had preached his usual fine sermon, despite the fact that it was a cold morning in mid-December and the crowd was off. Many of the congregation were down with sickness, but Berry had been warmed by the sight of Jacob Dimitri, who had been brought by Hilda Swenson and Dov Puskin. Reisa also had joined them and, as usual, had a scarf on, a bright green fabric that brought out the green of her eyes. The grandfather and granddaughter added a colorful flavor to the congregation with their foreign air. He noted that Reisa clung tenaciously to the old ways. He could not help but admire her, and from time to time during the sermon his eyes would flicker over to where the group sat.

As usual, Sam sat directly on the end of a pew. He loved to take up the offering. Sometimes he disturbed Berry, for if Sam felt that some wealthy individual was not giving enough, Sam was not above advising him that God blessed a cheerful giver. Berry could never restrain a smile when he thought of the time the church was taking an offering for missionaries in Africa. Sam had shoved the plate under the nose of a wealthy land owner, and the man had stared angrily at him and shaken his head. “I'm not putting anything in,” he had said.

Sam had shot right back. “Take some out then. It's for the heathen.”

The sermon was simple enough. It was a simple message on Jesus as Savior. At one point Berry said warmly, “When John the Baptist first sought Jesus, he said, ‘Behold, the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.' Every Jew that was in hearing distance of John knew exactly the ceremony to which John referred. The Paschal lamb had been slain ever since the Passover days of Israel in Egypt. The head of the family would bring a lamb, and it would be sacrificed by the priest. Symbolically the sins of the people would rest upon the lamb who died, taking their sins with him. Of course, every thinking Jew knew that the blood of an animal could not possibly take away sin. So now John is saying, ‘You've slain a thousand thousand lambs, and not all the blood of all these lambs would take away one sin, but now God has sent the one who is the reality. Those other lambs were mere pictures and shadows and types, but now the reality, the Lamb of God, has come.'”

He had gone on to trace Jesus' death on the cross, and the congregation was stirred, for Berry was a warm-hearted, fervent man of God.

Finally when the sermon ended, he said, “There may be one here this morning who has not found his way. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. I invite you to come and make public your decision. Jesus died for you. Will you trust in him?”

The song leader began “Just As I Am.” Reverend Berry was stunned when Jacob Dimitri stepped out and came toward him. Berry was so confused for a moment he could not think, but he took Jacob's thin hand, asking, “Why do you come forward, Jacob?”

Jacob had planned this for some time. He had read over and over in the New Testament how Jesus asked his disciples to follow him publicly, not secretly. Now he smiled and said, “I will not be like Nicodemus who came secretly to Jesus by night. I have taken the Lord Jesus Christ as the Lamb of God. I called on him, Reverend, and he has forgiven my sins. Now, if I understand the Bible, he asked those who do this to be baptized.”

“That is right, Jacob.” The pastor's eyes filled with tears, for he had grown to love this man. “Is that your desire?”

“Yes, I wish to be baptized as soon as possible.”

Reisa was staring, her eyes enormous and filled with apprehension. Dov put his hand on her shoulder. “It is all right, my Reisa,” he whispered. “Your grandfather is a wise man.”

Reisa had somehow expected this and yet dreaded it. She herself had prayed, but her prayers seemed to rebound from a heaven made of brass and iron. But she could not deny the light that had been in her grandfather's face, and the excitement and joy that was his even though he was not healthy. She simply stood there unable to believe it.

When the verse ended, Reverend Berry said, “We are so happy that our brother, Jacob Dimitri, has found Jesus. He has given his testimony to me, but perhaps you would like to hear it. As you know, Jacob has been an orthodox Jew all of his life, but now he feels that he must confess Jesus as Savior.”

Jacob spoke briefly and simply. His eyes moved over the congregation, and finally came to rest on Reisa. “It will be hard for me, for I am an old man, and the old ways die hard. But the Bible says that you cannot put new wine in old wine skin, so I come ready to taste the new wine. Sam has told me how he was baptized in a river when he was in the army, and I desire to be baptized as soon as possible.”

Reverend Berry's face instantly assumed a worried expression. “But, brother Jacob, it's so cold out there! We couldn't possibly baptize you in the river.”

Jacob said, “Nothing is impossible with God. Does not the Bible say that, Reverend?”

Sam Hall suddenly jumped up. “It shore does—but I can fix it. You give me an hour, brother Berry, and we'll have us a baptism right here in this church!”

Shock ran over the congregation, for all the baptizing had been in the local creek or in a pond. But Sam Hall was off and running. “You come with me, Dov. Phineas, you get a fire built up outside. Some of you womenfolk get somethin' to heat water in. We're havin' a baptizin' quicker than Moody's goose.”

Sam's work had been done well. A large horse trough had been emptied and brought into the church and placed front and center. It was filled with warm water heated on a quickly built fire outside. The women from close by had brought pans and kettles, and now Jacob Dimitri was standing in the water. It was only two feet deep, but Sam had said, “That's deep enough to get him under, Preacher. Miss Reisa, you hold that blanket ready. We got some fresh clothes when he gets out, right in the back there.”

Reisa's hands were unsteady as she held the rough blanket. She was standing over to one side, but she could see Jacob's face clearly. There was a peace and joy in his features such as she had never seen.

Brother Berry stepped forward and smiled. “I've baptized a thousand people, perhaps, in my life, but never have I been as happy to baptize anyone as I am this dear brother.” He had Jacob lock his hands on his own left wrist, then put his hand behind Jacob's back. He was a big man, and Jacob was small. Lifting his hand, Reverend Berry cried out with a loud voice, “And now in obedience to the command of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I baptize you, my brother Jacob Dimitri, in the name of the Father, in the name of the Son, and in the name of the Holy Ghost.”

Carefully Berry lowered the old man down into the water. Jacob clung to the pastor's wrist, and was completely immersed. Berry pulled him quickly forward, and Jacob wiped his face. Sam shouted, “Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Glory to God and the Lamb forever!” Others in the church were shouting and praising God fervently.

With the pastor's help Jacob stepped out of the tub, and Reisa was there at once. She wrapped the warm blanket around him. “
Zaideh
, you must get on warm clothes.”

“I'll see to that, Miss Reisa.” Dov was there and led Jacob into the back room. A fire had been built there so that it was warm, and clean clothes had been provided by one of the members.

Reisa was feeling rather forlorn when an arm came across her shoulders. She turned to find Hilda, her eyes filled with tears. “It is wonderful. Your grandfather has found Jesus.” Hilda threw her arms around the younger woman, and Reisa simply felt engulfed as she was held firmly against the big woman. It was something she needed, and she put her head down on Hilda's breast and tried to keep fearful thoughts from racing through her mind.

Soon Jacob came out in dry clothes with his hair combed, and he quickly came to her. “So, we go home now.”

“Yes,
Zaideh
.”

Jacob reached out and took his granddaughter's hand. “I know you are sad and you feel left out, but God has told me that you will not be left out for long. Come. We will go home now.”

As Ben Driver made his way down the main street of Richmond, he was thinking of Jacob and the joy that the old man had shown at his baptism. The scene had brought back fine memories, and he thought,
I guess I'm not entirely dead. Thought for a while I'd break down and cry. And that wouldn't have been too bad, I guess.

He had come to town with Sam to get supplies, and had taken time to buy a new shirt. He was on his way back to the stable where Sam waited with Samson and Delilah hitched to the wagon. It was a cold day with a hint of snow in the air, but Ben was unconscious of this. He wore only a flannel shirt, a pair of new jeans, and his half boots were warm and snug, for he was wearing the new boot socks that Hilda had knitted for him, as she had for all of the men at the house.

Driver was also thinking of that moment beside the fire in the wilderness when he had held Reisa in his arms. It was a troubling thought to him, and one he could not shake off. He knew that he loved her, but he could see no good ending for such a love. Years of disappointment and hardship had conditioned him to think of the dangers and the gloomy side of life.

As he approached Bell's Hardware Store, a couple came out, and he was quickly drawn from his thoughts when he faced his father and mother. His mother smiled as soon as she recognized him. “Hello, Ben. How are you?”

“I'm fine, Mom.” Then Ben Driver looked at his father and saw the discomfort in John Driver's eyes. He had planned to go see his father someday and talk with him, but now he said quietly and simply, “Dad, I've been a rotten son, a disappointment to you, and a disgrace to the Driver name. I'm sorry. I know you find it hard to forgive me, for you're a proud man, but as best as I can I'll try not to disgrace your name anymore.”

Without another word he brushed past them and did not look back.

John Driver turned to stare after his son. He felt his wife's hand on his arm and knew that she was waiting for him to speak. “That was fine of Ben, wasn't it, John?”

“He seemed—very honest.”

“He is honest.”

John Driver was still struggling with himself. He was unhappy with his own spirit, and he knew that somehow at the heart of his discontent lay his harshness toward Ben. He could not speak for a moment, and then he turned, saying, “He seems different.”

“He is different, John. You'll see.”

Sam was aware of Ben's silence on the way home. He knew that something had happened and longed to know what it was. Being an inquisitive man, he finally could refrain no longer. “The cat got your tongue, Ben? You look plumb down in the mouth.”

“I saw my father and mother in town.” He hesitated and then said, “I've been intending to go see him to tell him what a rotten son I've been to him and how sorry I am.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, then you'll have to let him come to his own conclusions.” Sam Hall was a practical man, and now as he sat on the seat beside Ben, he said, “It's a hard row to hoe, raisin' children. I gave my daddy fits, and I'm right sorry for it.” His cheerful face assumed a frown. “He died afore I found the Lord, and I never got to tell him what a good dad he was and how sorry I was.” But he straightened up then and slapped his single hand on his knee. “When I get to the streets of glory, right after I say hello to Jesus, I'm lookin' Pa up, and I'll bet he'll be right glad to see his wanderin' boy made it after all.”