River of Mercy (10 page)

“You're not going to turn into one of those matchmaker mothers, are you?” David said, feigning a stern look.

“Of course not! You should know by now that Amish parents stay out of their children's business, including their courting.”

“Now, Susan, Gant didn't say anything about Gideon courting the girl—”

“I know, I know.” She waved off his caution. “But it sounds as though he might be interested in her. That's good news,
ja
? If he should start seeing a Plain girl, he might eventually stop living
Englisch
and come home where he belongs.”

David was tempted to point out that only Gideon and God knew where the boy belonged, but he thought better of it. He enjoyed seeing her so lighthearted and didn't want to dampen her spirits. Even so, he had occasionally wondered if Gideon would ever come back to the Amish community. For the most part, the boy seemed perfectly content where he was.

After another hesitation, Susan gave her
kapp
a pat and fetched her cape from the peg by the door. “When Fannie comes in from the barn,” she said on the way out, “tell her not to go wandering off. I'll want her to help me with the pies.”

David stood at the window, watching her cross the field that lay between their farm and Rachel's, smiling a little at her usual brisk, purposeful stride. Susan always walked as if she were on a mission.

But then, she usually was.

The moment Rachel walked into her mother's living room, she knew she'd made a mistake by coming. What had she been thinking anyway? That she could have a nice cozy evening, just sitting around the fire with her family and her “friend” as if everything was perfectly normal and uncomplicated?

For that matter, what had Mamma been thinking, inviting her?

She hadn't been in the house five minutes before realizing this evening would be anything but normal. She could almost feel Doc and her mother and even Fannie watching her and Jeremiah to see how they were going to act around each other.

And just how
were
they to act around each other? Like old friends, casual and altogether at ease with each other's company? Or like strangers, stiff and formal and proper, barely acknowledging each other's presence? Or just plain foolish, painfully aware that if one were here, the other should be anywhere else
but
here?

Oh, if only she hadn't wanted to be with him so badly. If only she hadn't let her longing to see him again overcome her good sense!

Jeremiah was looking at her in that way he had sometimes, as if he could simply take a good long breath and swallow her up. She found it impossible to meet his gaze—and impossible not to.

She finally escaped to the kitchen, where she spent most of the time before supper pretending to help her mother with the meal even though Mamma clearly didn't need her help. As always, her mother had everything taken care of and in good order. Rachel knew she was probably more of a hindrance than a help. Still, she wasn't eager to leave the cozy confines of the kitchen.

By the time they were ready for dessert, Gant thought Rachel was feeling almost comfortable. At least she'd begun to speak a few words now and then. She'd spent the first part of the meal sitting like a frozen rabbit, not looking at him, moving only to jump up like a jack-in-the-box to get something from the kitchen.

Seated directly across from her and Fannie, Gant took advantage of the opportunity to study her as much as he pleased. Not to the point of rudeness, and not to call attention to his feelings for her, but simply to drink in the sight of her as fully as possible.

Rachel was well worth studying, after all. She had the prettiest complexion he'd ever seen on a woman—
any
woman. She virtually glowed. And even though she carefully avoided looking at him directly throughout most of the meal, her incredible dark eyes could surely make a man take leave of his senses.

Only when Doc gave a somewhat pointed clearing of his throat did Gant realize he must be waiting for a reply of some sort from him.

“Shem Miller's barn? You're going to be there, aren't you?”

“Oh…I am, sure. Shem asked if I'd lend a hand. I've got his order ready to deliver early Saturday morning, and I'll be staying after I drop it off.”

“Let's hope the weather holds.”

Gant had to steel himself from asking Rachel if she'd be there helping with the food. The possibility of spending an entire day in the same place with her made him almost lightheaded. He reassured himself with the reminder that she would almost certainly be there. A barn raising among the Amish typically drew every able-bodied man and woman.

Not for the first time, he was grateful for the way the Riverhaven Amish had finally, albeit gradually, accepted him as a friend. Such friendships between the Amish and the
Englisch
weren't all that common. As an
auslander,
he had been suspect for quite some time after he first charged into the community on that storm-driven night a year ago.

A stranger to the Plain People, he was a part of the very world from which the Amish had chosen to distance themselves. But he was also a
wounded
stranger, and thanks to Rachel Brenneman and her family's willingness to care for him until he regained his health, he had been allowed to remain, at first within the community and later on the edge of it. Even after moving into the town of Riverhaven and taking over the area's only carpentry business, Gant had maintained ties with some of his Amish friends.

And right or wrong, he'd also retained his affection for Rachel and her family.

Still flustered by Jeremiah's insistence on driving her home in his buggy after supper, Rachel sat as far away from him as she could manage.

Clouds hung heavy over the moon, and even though a thin ribbon of stars still dotted the night sky, the scent of rain thickened the air. They were halfway to her house before either of them finally spoke. “This isn't at all necessary, you know,” she said, not looking at him. “Going out of your way when I could just as easily walk across the field.”

“You shouldn't be walking about alone after dark,” he said easily.

“Mamma or Doc always watch me until I get inside.”

“Lot of good that would do if there was trouble,” he muttered.

Now she looked at him. “Really, Jeremiah, it's not as if I live in the middle of the woods. I have neighbors. I'm quite safe.”

He startled her by putting a hand to her arm. “No, Rachel—you're not. No one is safe these days. I've told you and anyone else who will listen that you shouldn't be alone. Not until there's an end to this bad business.”

The intensity of his words surprised Rachel. Although the harassment of the People had begun long ago, the trouble seemed to be strictly an Amish problem. A few of their
Englisch
neighbors had expressed concern but for the most part had left the People to deal with their difficulties by themselves. She wouldn't have expected Jeremiah or any other outsider to be all that bothered by the frightening incidents occurring among the Amish.

She felt a twinge of forbidden pleasure to think that he still cared enough about her to be worried for her safety. At the same time, however, his concern seemed to sharpen her own apprehension. The idea that he was actually afraid for her somehow made the situation seem more sinister.

“I'm always careful,” she muttered. Although true, the words sounded flimsy, even to her own ears.

His pressure on her arm increased. “Being careful isn't enough, Rachel. I think you know that.”

She looked at him.

He eased his grip somewhat but didn't entirely drop his hand away. “A woman alone this far out of town…it's not a good situation.”

Although his hand still rested on her arm, he didn't look at her.

Rachel wondered if he might be thinking of Phoebe.

Then another thought struck her, and she took advantage of the moment to change the subject. “I've been wondering about Ellie Sawyer,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual. “How is she doing now?”

Jeremiah darted a quick frown at her, abruptly releasing her arm. “Ellie Sawyer?”

Rachel didn't quite meet his eyes. “Well, she's alone too. And a widow. I mean…you must be concerned for her as well. I know you probably watch out for her, living as close as you do, but still…”

Rachel let her words drop away as she watched him, waiting.

He appeared confused. Or was he merely trying to conceal his interest in the attractive young widow?

“I'm sure the other boarders keep an eye on her,” he said.

“But you
do…
look in on her sometimes, don't you?” Why was she pressing him like this?

He looked at her as if he might be wondering the same thing.

When he made no reply, Rachel sensed she might have taken her questions too far, so she changed the subject again. “Dr. David told us about your late-night visitor,” she said lightly.

He delayed his reply, as if her quick change of mood had thrown him off guard. “My…oh, the bobcat. Aye, it seems he's made himself a regular caller, that one.”

They were near the house now, and Rachel was determined to keep the rest of the conversation entirely neutral. “What does Mac think of him?”

“Well, they haven't actually met yet. I expect they'll keep their distance from each other if they ever do.”

“I suppose they'd be natural enemies,” she said, thinking aloud.

The sudden thrust of his arm in front of her made Rachel whip around to look at him. “What—”

Jeremiah continued to block her with his arm, shaking his head as if to silence her. He stopped the buggy with such a jolt it raked gravel and shuddered. “Did you leave your front door open?”

Rachel answered before she even looked. “Of course not! Not anymore…not since—”

He jerked his head toward the house, his jaw tight as he sat staring.

Rachel turned to look. A shadow scurried across the yard, and the heaviness of the night seemed to draw in on her with a rush.

Her front door stood open on a gaping darkness.

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