River of Mercy (34 page)

Well, but forget Rachel for the moment. It was almost a foregone conclusion that Beiler would marry someone. Amish men seldom remained single for any length of time, but Beiler was still unmarried after a number of years. It wasn't all that unrealistic to assume he would find someone eventually. Some unsuspecting, vulnerable woman who might be subjected to the same treatment Martha Beiler had endured.

Chilled, David knew then that he had kept his silence about Samuel Beiler long enough. Perhaps too long. Perhaps if he had told someone long ago what he suspected about the man, he might have spared Beiler's wife and his sons a great deal of pain.

He met Malachi's questioning gaze. “Yes,” he said, his voice strained and unsteady, “I…I suppose I do believe Noah Beiler. Yes,” David said again. “I'm afraid the boy most likely is telling the truth.”

32

Set me as a seal upon thine heart.

S
ONG OF
S
OLOMON
8:6-7

G
ant waited a week into the New Year before going to Rachel. He had made a gift for her before the holidays, but since the practice of exchanging Christmas gifts had been outlawed by Samuel Beiler, he'd deliberately delayed giving her the gift until now.

Of course, he shouldn't be giving her a gift at all. In the Amish community, a man wasn't to give a woman gifts, nor was she to accept them, especially anything personal, unless they were engaged or married. But he wasn't Amish, and since it was no longer Christmas, he was just stubborn enough not to care about Samuel Beiler's new rules one way or the other. Besides, the Amish rules didn't apply to him, and if he wanted to give Rachel a gift, then he would.

That didn't mean she would accept it, but Gant thought she would.

It wasn't much, nothing extravagant, and not really anything personal except for the fact that he believed she'd like it. Knowing her love for birds, especially waterbirds, he'd carved a swan from a piece of black teak he'd put aside years ago after a trade with a Burmese sailor. He had thought the day might come when he'd want to do something special with it, and it finally had. He'd shaped it and stained it and polished it until it gleamed like satin, and then he wrapped it in a silk sleeve and tied it with satin.

He hadn't carved anything for a long time, and when he'd first started to work on the piece a few weeks back, he wondered if he could fit it to his imagination and have it look the way he wanted. It had cost him a few late nights, but it came out rather well if he did say so himself.

At first he'd wondered how much of his desire to give her a gift had to do with the sideboard Samuel Beiler had commissioned him to make as a birthday gift for her. Was it possible the idea had been born once he'd started working on Beiler's gift? And he
was
working on the sideboard in spite of the anger it evoked in him. All too often he had to remind himself the piece was for Rachel and therefore worth his best effort, or he would have destroyed it before it was ever finished.

Well, tonight he was taking her
his
gift. Admittedly, he was looking forward to giving it to her, but more to the point, he wanted to see her, needed to see her. In truth, he felt as if he couldn't put in another day without seeing her. It was even more important, given the way he'd been thinking lately.

He forced his mind to cut away from that direction. Some other time he could punish himself with the pain those thoughts leveled on him. Not now, not tonight. He had no intention of carrying that heaviness into Rachel's house.

Of course, Rachel might not even let him inside her house now that their future seemed to be sealed.

More like their doom was sealed.

Well, somehow he had to convince her to let him in. He wasn't sure exactly what was driving him other than the need to be with her, to soak up her presence. He had to see her tonight or he would surely snap. That was all he knew, and it was enough.

He scowled at his own dark mood and determined to shake it off before he reached Rachel's house.

He'd left the buggy back at the shop. A single horse tethered at the back of her house wouldn't be all that noticeable to anyone happening by. But before going half the distance, the cold had begun to seep through his body like river ice. He wrapped his coat more snugly about him and ducked his head against the rising wind.

Riding home would be a misery.

When Rachel cautiously opened the door and saw him standing there, her first inclination was to refuse to let him in. She shivered, but not from the cold blast that struck her from outside. Something was on the wind tonight, something wild and unnatural about the night itself, and when she met Jeremiah's eyes she saw it reflected there too.

At first she thought he was angry. But a second look and she recognized the fierce determination that virtually trapped her in his gaze. She had seen that look before.

“Jeremiah…”

“I need to see you, Rachel. May I?” He gestured toward the inside.

Without waiting for her reply, he stepped in, easing himself carefully past her.

Still she hesitated, long enough for him to reach around her and push the door shut. Ignoring any formalities, he shrugged out of his coat, doffed his cap, and gave both a careless toss over the wall peg.

Suddenly irritated with him—he knew he wasn't supposed to be here—Rachel stood watching him. He faced her with a quirk of a smile. “I'm near frozen. Do you have any coffee?”

“Won't you come in, Jeremiah? Please, just make yourself at home.” Rachel despised sarcasm and was surprised to hear it lacing her own words. But he deserved it.

He didn't stop until he reached the middle of the kitchen and turned to face her. She was so close on his heels she nearly ran into him.

“Coffee? Please?”

“I still have some left from supper. Or would you like me to make fresh?” she said grudgingly.

Her eyes went to the brown-paper wrapped package he held, and in spite of her best intentions, her curiosity stirred. Her gaze followed his movements as he placed the package on the table with obvious care.

“Just so it's hot,” he said. “Leftover is fine.”

Rachel wanted to be angry with him. She had every right to be angry. She should tell him to leave. She should
insist
that he leave. But what she saw in his eyes and what she felt in her heart pressed her to keep silent.

She drew in a long, shaky breath and motioned toward a chair at the table. “Sit down,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I'll get your coffee.”

He seemed to slump with relief and then sank down onto the chair and sat waiting. He said nothing, but Rachel felt him watching her as she heated the coffee and poured him a cup.

She managed to keep her hand from trembling as she set the cup on the table in front of him. “You know you shouldn't be here. If anyone finds out…” She let her words fall away unfinished.

He looked up at her. “I won't stay long. Sit down with me?”

Rachel hesitated but then, deliberately ignoring the chair closest to him, sat down across the table. “What do you want, Jeremiah?”

He pushed the package across the table toward her. “This is for you. I heard that you weren't supposed to receive Christmas gifts this year, so I waited.”

Rachel looked at him and then the package.

“It's not a Christmas gift,” he said with a knowing smile. “Christmas is over.”

She continued to eye the package but made no move to touch it.

“Open it,” he said quietly. “Please.” His gaze went over her face, and Rachel felt as if he were touching her.

Finally, she loosened the brown paper wrapping and then sat staring at a beautiful, multicolored sheath of material that seemed to shimmer in the lamplight. She glanced across to see him watching her, his eyes reflecting the light. Now her hands did tremble as she carefully pulled away the soft fabric to reveal an intricately carved black swan that seemed incredibly lifelike in its gleaming perfection.

Rachel couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath or resist touching it. She put one finger to its head, tracing the line of its long neck down its back. The wood felt cool and smooth, smoother than anything she had ever touched before.

“Oh, Jeremiah…” She breathed the words more than spoke them, and when she met his eyes she knew in that instant that he had made this, made it with his own hands…for her.

“You shouldn't have done this.” She felt tears burn her eyes and didn't know if the beauty of the swan or the idea that he had actually made something so exquisite for her was responsible for her emotion. “It's the loveliest thing I've ever seen.”

The intensity and tenderness of his gaze nearly undid her. “And you,” he said, his tone hoarse, “are the loveliest thing I've ever seen.”

“You made this?” she said, already knowing the answer but desperately needing to quiet her heart and ease the tension hanging between them. “For me?”

“I did. I had thought to give it to you for Christmas, but then I heard that the rules had changed, so I thought I'd best wait.”

“I don't know what to say…I've never seen anything so beautiful, so… perfect. But…I shouldn't—”

“Don't,” he broke in. “Don't say you shouldn't take it. It's important to me that you keep it.”

“Jeremiah…”

Rachel's every instinct was screaming that she should give it back to him—now. They shouldn't even be together like this, alone in her kitchen with the night and the soft light from the lamp wrapping around them like a blanket of warmth…and desire.

And yet how could she not accept it? The time and the work and the emotion that must have gone into this—how could she refuse to keep it? She sensed that rejecting it would hurt him, would wound him terribly.

And so she made her decision. “Of course I'll keep it.”

He closed his eyes, just for an instant.

Trying for a lighter tone, she added, “You couldn't pry it away from me. I've never had anything so lovely. I just…I don't know how to thank you.”

He shook his head. “Your willingness to keep it…that's my thanks.”

Unexpectedly then, he got to his feet. “I know my being here makes you uncomfortable. I'll go now. And I'll try…I'll try to stay away this time. But tonight,” he shook his head, “tonight I just couldn't.”