River of Mercy (39 page)

Dust is the end of all pursuit.

G
EORGE
C
HAPMAN

M
onday afternoon, Rachel opened the door to find Samuel Beiler standing there, a grim look of determination darkening his features.

Her first instinct was to shut the door without inviting him in. She had seen that look before, always when he had set his mind on something and wasn't about to be denied. But Samuel was bishop now. She could hardly slam the door in the bishop's face.

Instead, she waited, giving merely a small nod of acknowledgment. “Samuel.”

“I need to speak with you, Rachel. May I come in?”

She delayed but then reluctantly opened the door wider, saying nothing.

He wiped his boots and then stepped inside. Normally she would have taken his coat, offered him coffee, and indicated that he should take a chair. Not today. Something in that fixed, severe countenance told her this was not to be a friendly visit. For that matter, his last visit hadn't been a cordial one either.

They stood in the middle of the kitchen, facing each other. Rachel was beginning to wonder if he was going to simply stand there, staring at her. She could hardly have been more uncomfortable.

When he finally spoke, his low, almost gentle tone surprised her. “I think you know why I'm here, Rachel.”

“No, Samuel. I've no idea.”

He sighed as if he were disappointed and somewhat impatient with her reply. He seemed to draw himself up to his full height, which was considerable, and stood holding his hat, watching her. “I've come as a friend, Rachel, but as your bishop as well.”

Her instincts instantly went on alert, her mind racing in search of something she might have done to trigger his visit.

“You might want to sit down,” he said in the same quiet tone of voice.

Rachel ignored the suggestion, continuing to face him while bracing herself for whatever she was about to hear.

When she remained standing, he hesitated before going on. Rachel forced herself not to look away as he studied her, annoyance now visible in his eyes.

“I've heard talk, Rachel,” he said heavily. “Talk that disturbs me.”

Rachel waited, saying nothing.

“Some say that you and the
auslander,
Gant, have disobeyed Bishop Graber's warning that you must not see each other.”

“We don't,” Rachel said, her voice thin with tension.

“What?”

“We don't…‘see' each other.”

“That's not what I'm told.”

“Whatever you've been told, Samuel, Jere—” Rachel quickly corrected herself. “Captain Gant and I don't see each other. Not alone. Unless it's by accident.”

Guilt swept over her as the memory of Jeremiah's recent night visit pushed against her conscience, the visit when he'd brought the black swan he'd carved for her.

His mouth tightened. “Don't compound your wrongdoing with a lie, Rachel. His horse has been seen here, at your house, at night.” His look darkened still more as he added, “And apparently you have been together at other times as well.”

Caught off guard, Rachel fought to hide her surprise.
How did he know? Had he been watching her house?

To deny his accusation again would be an outright lie. There had been other times, such as the night he'd walked her home, the night of the break-in. At the moment she was too stunned to remember others.

She felt trapped.

“Well?”

His accusing gaze was locked on her, and in spite of her resolve not to back down, Rachel felt angered and at the same time disgusted with herself for allowing him to humiliate her.

“Why are you doing this, Samuel?”

“I'm your bishop now, Rachel. It's my duty to address any wrongdoing on the part of my people and take the necessary steps to correct it.” He paused before continuing. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Rachel glanced away, physically ill with the emotions rioting within her. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she made no reply.

“Rachel, I have to say that ever since that Gant person arrived here, you have behaved foolishly, even recklessly.” His voice took on volume. “Taking him into your house—an unknown
Englischer
—caring for a total stranger, nursing him back to health, as you might a husband! You've been in his shop in town, you've been with him in your home, just the two of you alone. You haven't conducted yourself as a godly Amish widow at all.
Nee,
you've acted shamefully and sinfully with this man!”

“That's not true, Samuel!” Rachel snapped. “If you knew me at all, you'd know you have no right to accuse me of anything of the sort! You're judging me by chance, by appearances.”

Anger warred with weakness so fiercely she felt as if her legs would buckle under her at any moment. Yet she refused to let him bully her. He might be her bishop, and although she had to admit that at times her behavior might have appeared questionable, in her heart she couldn't believe she had committed sin with Jeremiah.

No? She had let him kiss her. She had loved a man she was forbidden to love… and she still did.

If only Bishop Graber would have given Jeremiah a chance to convert, he wouldn't have been forbidden.
If only…

“Please leave, Samuel,” she choked out, turning away from him. “I can't listen to any more of this.”

“You will listen!” he demanded. “Rachel, don't you realize you're in danger of being placed under the
Meidung?”

Rachel wheeled around, her heart thundering. “You can't…you wouldn't…”

But he could. He was the bishop now. But would he actually order that she be shunned? “Samuel, are you threatening me?”

He impaled her with a look that left no doubt in Rachel's mind. He
was
threatening her.

“I've done nothing deserving of the
Meidung!
You know I haven't!”

Fear seized her like an icy wave. She could imagine nothing worse. Being cast out from her family, her friends, the entire Plain community… She would rather lose her very life!

“I can't believe this,” she said, the last fragile shell of her composure treacherously close to shattering. “I can't believe you think so poorly of me that you would jump to such false conclusions.”

He made a gesture of frustration with his hands. “You're leaving me no choice. What kind of bishop would I be to let you set such a poor example for the other women in our community? To let you endanger your own soul?”

“Endanger…” Rachel's voice broke. Fear knotted inside her. She felt as if she were suffocating. Something flared in his accusing eyes that told her he'd seen her fear and was gratified by it.

To think that he had once declared affection for her, had even asked her to marry him. There had been a time when she'd actually thought of him as a friend.

As if Samuel had read her thoughts, he suddenly shifted his tone of voice from that of her accuser to the reasoning and kind tenor of a friendly advisor. “Rachel, it doesn't have to be this way. It shouldn't be this way, not between you and me. Don't you realize that this is difficult for me too? I care about you. I don't want to do anything to hurt you. I especially don't want to see you jeopardize your relationship with the Lord God because of sin in your life.”

Confusion now entangled Rachel's emotions. Her mind went spinning, struggling to grasp the meaning of this abrupt turn in his behavior. In spite of the turmoil roiling inside of her, she found herself sensing a ray of hope in this unexpected change.

“I don't understand…”

He smiled, and for a moment he looked like the old Samuel who had once taken meals with her family. The friend who had taught Gideon how to gentle a horse. The good neighbor who had helped bring in the harvest the year her
dat
had been down with a broken leg.

But the words he was saying now pierced the fog of her thoughts, and her mind strained to clear.

“I want to help you with this, Rachel. I hope you believe that. But you need to make a complete turnaround in the way you've been living, and you need to trust me, as your friend and your bishop, to help you do that.”

As Rachel fought her way back to clarity, she watched him with a growing feeling of uneasiness. She sensed that something lay behind the seeming kindness in his eyes, something that belied the rational and reasonable words coming so smoothly and easily from his lips.

“Haven't I always been a good friend to you? Didn't I try to comfort you after Eli's death and advise you as to finances and the management of your farm? I know at times you've resented my advice. You've always had an independent spirit, Rachel, we both know that. But surely you realize I've only meant what's best for you.”

“Samuel—”

He waved off her interruption.
“Nee,
I want you to listen to me now, Rachel. This is for your own good.”

Rachel stiffened, immediately irritated by this familiar insinuation that he was far wiser than she and capable of making the right decisions that she couldn't.

Either he didn't notice the flush of anger she felt flame her face or he chose to ignore it. “Let's forget for a moment any hard things I've said. Just…hear me out. If you're willing, Rachel, we can put all this bad business about the
auslander
behind us. We can still salvage your reputation and undo any damage done by your impulsive behavior.”

He paused, his fingers kneading his hat over and over again. “I've said this to you before, Rachel, but I'm going to speak of it again. I need a helpmate. A wife…and a mother for young Joe. Aaron is older now and will soon be on his own. And Noah gets along without much guidance, although he's too stubborn by far. But Joe is still young enough to need plenty of guidance and discipline. He needs a mother. And I'll admit that I need a companion. A man isn't meant to be alone, nor is a woman.”

He stopped and took a long breath before continuing. “Rachel, you know I've always cared for you.”

Not this again.
It had been so long, she'd actually thought he had given up. “Don't, please, Samuel—”

Again he warded off her attempt to speak. “Let me have my say, Rachel. This is important…for both of us.”

He took a step toward her, but Rachel instinctively stepped back. Her earlier uneasiness was quickly altering to suspicion.

“I believe we can be good for each other. I'm already extremely fond of you, and I believe you could come to care for me in time. I'd be good to you and good
for
you. You would be the wife of a bishop and looked upon as a virtuous, godly woman. There would be no hint of…of wrong living or disobedience to the
Ordnung.
You would be highly regarded and respected. Marriage to me would allow you to put to rest any past mistakes in judgment or behavior. It would enable you to start anew, and it would benefit me also, as I would no longer need to shoulder all the household responsibilities in addition to my work on the farm.”

Searching her face, he added, “As your husband, I would count it a blessing to teach you how to make good decisions and train you in right living. And…you would no longer have any fear of being shunned.”

Rachel nearly gagged at the hot wave of nausea that rose up in her. So this was his real motive for frightening her with the threat of shunning! The truth slammed into her like a physical blow. “You dare try to deceive me, Samuel? You mean to force me to marry you in order to avoid the
Bann?”

From somewhere deep inside her, she found the strength to meet his challenging eyes without flinching. “Get out! Get out of my house! Now!”

His face flamed. Every semblance of reason and kindness that had gentled his appearance only a moment before now bled into a fiery mask of outrage and anger. In that instant, Rachel recalled dark rumors and hints of questionable behavior on Samuel's part, especially during the time since he had become bishop. But over the years things also had been whispered about his temper, his heavy-handed methods of dealing with those who supposedly violated the
Ordnung.
It was rumored that even his deceased wife and his sons had suffered from his bad temper at times. And her friend Barbara had let it be known that some believed he was abusing his authority as bishop in a variety of ways.

“Be careful what you say to me, Rachel!” He hurled the words at her like stones. “You'd best think carefully about what I'm offering you before you insult me!”

“What you're offering me? I would die before I'd accept what you're offering me! You shame me, Samuel Beiler. And you shame the office of bishop!”

In two strides, he was in her face, his eyes ablaze with unmistakable contempt and fury. He raised a hand to her. Rachel somehow found the strength to lift her face to his and meet his furious gaze straight on. Silently, she dared him to strike her. Slowly, he dropped his hand away.