Where Grace Abides (31 page)

She was almost certain Dr. David would have invited him, good
friends as they were. What would it be like to see him in her mother's house, among the People, a friend to many of them by now, though not one of them?

She had no doubt it would be difficult. It was always difficult to be near him while needing to avoid any real closeness. Yet she longed to see him, especially on such an important day.

There had been a time when Rachel dreamed of a wedding of their own, but the bishop's refusal to allow Jeremiah's conversion had shattered that dream, breaking her heart in the process. And yet somehow the two of them had remained friends. Even though they seldom saw each other, and even though they were forbidden to marry, something had bound them together. Still today there was a bond between them that time and distance had been unable to sever.

She still loved him. And unless she was gravely mistaken, what she saw in his eyes when he looked at her—that was love as well. Even so, she had fought against praying that the Lord God would change the bishop's mind. In truth she was often tempted to beg for that mercy, but instead she prayed for Jeremiah's best, for his wholeness and his happiness. She prayed that love would find him and that he would one day have a home and family of his own.

For herself—these days she prayed for peace, for the acceptance of God's will and the grace to live within it.

Somehow, now that she believed with all her heart that God had given her—
freely given her
—His love and His salvation, it simply didn't seem right to ask for more.

 
37
 
T
OGETHER IN
O
NE
P
LACE

Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.

W. B. Y
EATS

I
n the early morning of her wedding day, Susan was surprised to realize that she wasn't nearly as
naerfich
as she had expected to be.

Oh, her stomach was tumbling, but that tended to happen on any special occasion. She would have thought that on this day, of all days, she would be a bundle of nerves, but in truth what she was most anxious about was the fact that Gideon hadn't made it home for the wedding.

She had so hoped he would be here. What mattered most, though, was that he stay safe, and according to the last note Captain Gant had received, both her son and Asa were all right.

Somehow she mustn't let her disappointment over Gideon's absence spoil the day for her and David. All she could do was pray for his safety and rely on the reassurance David had given her more than once that Gideon couldn't be in better hands than those of Captain Gant's friend, Asa. And as David also continued to remind her, her son was a man now, not a boy. He didn't need a “protector.”

Maybe not, but she would feel better when she saw him standing before her again, well and healthy.

She started on a quick walk through the house, stopping in
her bedroom to admire again the wedding gift Captain Gant had dropped off the night before—an intricately carved memento chest of fine wood. The captain had etched “David and Susan Sebastian, November 9, 1856” on the lid. What a wonderful and beautiful gift! Bless him. The captain had acted awkward when he handed it to her until he finally seemed to realize that she was truly awed by his lovely, thoughtful gift.

As she continued on, she tried to be especially quiet. Rachel had spent the night, and she and Fannie were still sleeping. The house looked ever so
gut.
So many friends had come during the past few days to help her clean and scrub and polish in preparation for the ceremony. Rachel had offered her house for the wedding, but Susan really wanted to be married here, in the home where she had lived and raised her children over the years. Besides, they would have more room here—and they would probably need it all.

She shed a few tears as she roamed through the house, finally stopping in the kitchen. Thoughts of the years when the children were small and all the happy days they'd shared together within these walls came rushing in on her. How blessed she had been! Amos had been such a good and thoughtful husband. Her children were strong and healthy, each one of them, and they had done all they could after their father's death to help her maintain the farm. To this day even Fannie pitched in, young as she was, to assume a full measure of chores and, at the same time, delight Susan with her lively spirit and loving heart.

God had given her a wonderful life and had now added to it by allowing her to experience a second season of love with a fine and honorable man. She didn't deserve any of the gifts poured out upon her. No doubt Phoebe would have reminded her—as would Rachel these days—that God's grace and generous blessings were always free and undeserved, that
their
part was to accept His gifts and thank Him, not only with words from their lips but by the way they lived as well.

Her meeting with her memories came to an abrupt end when someone knocked on the kitchen door. She jumped, her heart pumping furiously as she went to peek out the back window. She saw a wagon pulled around at the rear of the house, but it was still too dark to tell who, if anyone, was in it.

Holding her breath, her hands shaking, she went to the door. At the same moment, the knocking sounded again. “Who's there?”

“It's me, Mamm.”

Gideon!

Susan flung the door open with such force the very walls seemed to shake.

Her son stood there, grinning from ear to ear. His face was smudged with dust, his clothes rumpled, his eyes tired. But didn't he look wonderful-
gut!

She was vaguely aware of the wagon pulling away even as Gideon stepped inside and opened his arms to her.

“Told you I'd be back in time for the wedding,” he said.

Weeping and laughing at the same time, Susan hugged her boy until both of them had to draw back to catch a breath.

“You're all right?”

“I'm fine, Mamm. All in one piece. So is Asa. He dropped me off before going on to Riverhaven.”

“You look awfully tired, son.”

He laughed at her. “Don't fuss, Mamm. I really
am
fine. I was thinking you might still have some of my Plain clothes on hand,” he said. “As you can see, I need to clean up a bit before the wedding.”

“Of course, I still have your clothes,” she choked out. “I was hoping you'd want them again eventually.”

He put up a hand. “Now, Mamm, it's just for today, mind,” he said quietly. “I figure your wedding day ought to be special, as happy as any day can be.”

Susan reached up to grasp his shoulders. “And it is, son!
Now
it is.”

In one of the bedrooms on the second floor, David and Susan sat on two straight-backed chairs, receiving their prewedding counsel and encouragement from Bishop Shrock.

Every now and then, David couldn't help but glance at Susan, and every time he did, he nearly lost his breath. And why wouldn't he? She was breathtakingly lovely in her robin's-egg blue dress and crisp white apron. He caught her eye once and winked, enjoying her startled look and the faint blush that crept up her delicate features.

And then it was time to go downstairs and be seated. After the People sang a portion of the “Lob Lied” from the
Ausbund
—the Amish hymnal—Samuel Beiler, their only deacon, solemnly delivered the first sermon of the ceremony in German.

David did his best to put aside his personal reservations about Beiler, which was easier to do than he would have thought as he struggled to follow the German. His new second language was still a challenge for him, particularly when spoken at length. He had to pay close attention to understand each word in context.

Before they knelt in silent prayer, his gaze swept over the wedding guests. Susan's entire family, including Gideon, was there. So too were her friends and neighbors—Malachi Esch and his sons, Abe Gingerich and his family, and many others. A number of David's patients were also in attendance.

He glanced back to Gideon, somewhat amused by the way Susan's son couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the Knepp girl.
Interesting.

The house was full to bursting. It looked as though almost the entire community of the Plain People had turned out today. Susan had to be pleased at the sight of so many gathered together to share their wedding day with them.

And there was Gant, looking uncommonly formal in a dark
suit and tie, sitting in the back with their other
Englisch
friends and neighbors. His Irish friend's eyes seemed locked on the back of Rachel's head, except for an instant when his gaze met David's and he shot him a quick, roguish grin.

When they knelt in silent prayer for several minutes after the deacon's sermon, David realized his eyes were moist. Quite simply he was overwhelmed with feelings—with love for Susan, appreciation for her family and all their friends, with fervent gratitude to his Lord and Savior for this day of days.

“Thy blessing is upon thy people…”

Bishop Shrock preached the main sermon, after which he motioned to David and Susan to join him in front to hear their replies to the questions he posed and pronounce them husband and wife.

It was a blessed moment—a holy moment—and both the bride and the groom welcomed it with tears in their eyes.

Gant had never attended a wedding like this. There were no flowers and no decorations other than the plain and simple loveliness of the bride's home—and the bride herself. No music was performed besides the unaccompanied hymn singing—not even a fiddle. His Irish countrymen would have been scandalized entirely.

And yet it was perfect—a perfect wedding for two very special people. He smiled, then caught himself feeling a little wistful at the sight of Susan tearing up and Doc's noticeably red-rimmed eyes. Even from the back of the room, he could sense his friend's emotion as the ceremony ended.

Come to think of it, he needed to wipe his own eyes. Now
that
had never happened at any other wedding he could think of.

Aye, it was a perfect day, and he was glad for them. But one question had been gnawing at him from the moment he became aware of Bishop Graber's absence. A different bishop officiating at
this particular wedding was a real puzzle. He would have thought Doc and Susan would have been intent on having their own bishop present for their wedding. He couldn't believe they would have agreed to a last-minute switch unless there had been some sort of emergency. He made a mental note to ask Doc about it later on.

He realized then that the ceremony had ended. He stood and, with the other guests, moved outside to the rear lawn, where tables and benches had been set up, ready for the wedding meal.