The Amish Heiress

Chapter Eighteen - A Two-Edged Sword

Chapter Eighteen

A Two-Edged SwordDaniel King hated days like this. The cold, blustery wind drove like nails through his coat. Icy rain slapped his face, and the gray clouds scudding overhead matched his mood. He pulled his coat tighter around him as his horse hauled the black buggy along the highway. An occasional car swept by, splashing water against the wheels and up on the floor. The red warning triangle was very visible on the back of Daniel’s rig, but there were still some Englischers who took a perverse pleasure in coming as close as they could, especially on days like this.

The storm had swept in unexpectedly behind a thick layer of gray clouds. Daniel had not paid attention to the overcast sky before he set out, and now he was paying the price. He was miserable and wet. Finally, the sign for Old Leacock Road loomed up out of the rain, and Daniel turned off the highway. He reached up and touched his shirt pocket to make sure that the letter was still there and wondered why Rachel had sent it to him.

When Rachel left Paradise she had not even said goodbye. Then today, a letter had come in the mail. It was short and seemed chatty, but Daniel knew Rachel well enough to read between the lines. Underneath the bravado, Daniel could see that something was wrong. His thoughts churned and his heart ached as he drove into the teeth of the wind. Finally, the turnoff to the King farm appeared through the mist and rain, and he gratefully guided the horse into their lane. He drove straight down to the barn and turned inside. Water dripped off the brim of his hat as he climbed down and unhitched his horse. Grabbing a towel off a rack, he dried the animal off and then led him into a stall. He sat down on a bale of hay and pulled the letter out of his pocket. The envelope was damp from the rain. It was postmarked Greenwich, CT. He pulled the letter out of the envelope and read it again.

Dear Daniel,

I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you. Everything happened so quickly, but you are my best friend and I should have taken time to see you. Please forgive me.

Right now, Gerald and I are staying at the St. Clair estate in Greenwich, Connecticut, with Augusta. It’s a wonderful place, and the horses, oh Daniel! You would love the horses. They are mostly Arabians and thoroughbreds, and they are the finest money can buy. Augusta loves horses, so at least we have that in common.

As for my inheritance, there seems to be a slight delay in receiving the money, so I have to wait to apply to vet school until the spring. Mr. Duvigney, who is the administrator of my grandfather’s estate, tells me that there are quite a few financial technicalities involved in transferring such an enormous sum of money into our accounts. Of course, Augusta is not too happy about that.

As for married life, it is not quite what I expected, but then Gerald and I basically have a business deal, so the romance part of it seems to be on hold for now. We do not see things the same way. That’s because of our different backgrounds, I expect, but I am hoping that once we get to know each other better, we can resolve our differences amicably. The main thing that troubles me is that even though Augusta and Gerald go to the Episcopal Church, I don’t see the fruit of real faith in their lives. In fact, I’m not sure Gerald even believes in God, and that troubles me. Not to say that I have been the most faithful adherent either, but I do know that Gott is real, even though He seems far away right now.

Well, enough about me. I am doing what I wanted to do and that’s a good thing, I guess. When I get started at vet school I am sure I will feel a lot better about everything. In the meantime, I do get lonely for my folks and I miss our friendship. I hope this letter doesn’t get you in trouble, since I know you are not supposed to communicate with those who have left the church. But I would love to hear from you sometime.

Anyway, look after my mama for me and Jonathan, too.

Rachel

Daniel sighed and shook his head. He spoke out loud.

“So, you don’t see things the same way as a spoiled, rich Englischer? I wonder why!”

The horse snorted and jumped at his outburst, and Daniel looked around to see if anyone else had been listening. Rachel was right. When she married Gerald St. Clair, she was put under the bann, and the members of the Amish community of Paradise were forbidden to communicate with her. Daniel knew that his parents would be displeased if they saw the letter, so he looked around.

There was a loose board in the wall at the back of the stall, and he slipped the letter in behind it. Then he began to pace. After a moment, he made a decision. He left the barn and went into the house. He looked around to make sure nobody was downstairs, and then he went into the room his father used for an office and got an envelope, a piece of paper, and a pencil. He went back out to the barn and took his father’s clipboard off the wall by the door. Then he went back in the stall and sat down again. Quickly he began to write.

Dear Rachel,

I got your letter and you are right. I am not supposed to communicate with you. But you are my friend, and I am responding because you sound very lonely. I know you well, Rachel, and I can read between the lines. It seems that in your haste to distance yourself from Jonathan, you have made a choice that is not turning out the way you expected.

But I don’t care about all that. What I care about is you and your life. I am and always will be your friend, and if you need any help from me, or anything at all, please let me know.

Daniel

P.S. I do miss you.

He stared at the last words. What he wanted to say was how much he loved her, but she was married now, and he could not bring himself to write the words on paper. He lowered his head and was silent. A tear dropped from his eye and he quickly wiped it away. Instead of writing anymore, he prayed silently.

Lord, please be with Rachel in this time. Protect her and guard her. Set your mighty angels round about her and keep her safe. Danki. Amen.

Daniel put the letter in the envelope and sealed it, and then wrote Rachel’s address on the front. He put it in the hiding place with Rachel’s letter, and then went back into the house. He felt like someone had shoved a sharpened fence post through his heart. He could wipe away the tears from his eyes, but he could do nothing about the deep pain twisting him inside.

*****

Two weeks later, Daniel was hanging around outside the post office. He had checked for a reply from Rachel as often as he could for the last week, but he had received nothing. Several Amish folk had come and gone this morning, and he was waiting until he could go in unobserved. Rachel had sent the first letter to Daniel in care of Mrs. Shoemaker, the postmistress, so Daniel wouldn’t get in trouble. So he was expecting another letter to arrive in the same fashion.

Finally, the coast was clear and he went inside. Mrs. Shoemaker motioned for him to come to the counter. She looked around and then leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial way.

“Daniel, I have something for you from Connecticut. I hope it’s from Rachel. It’s too bad you kids can’t just talk to each other instead of sneaking around. I never understood this shunning nonsense.”

Mrs. Shoemaker saw the hurt in Daniel’s eyes and stopped.

“I’m sorry, Daniel. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m sure your customs serve their purpose, after all.”

She reached under the counter, pulled out a small manila envelope, and handed it over the counter to Daniel. Daniel took it eagerly. The postmark was from the same town in Connecticut, but the return said Augusta St. Clair, not Rachel. The address was typed on the outside:

Mr. Daniel King

c/o Mrs. Shoemaker, US Post Office

1 Leacock Rd,

Paradise, PA 17562

Daniel tore open the envelope. Inside, he found a folded sheet of paper. He pulled it out and saw something else inside. It was the letter he had written to Rachel. The letter was unopened. Daniel looked at the letter, put it down on the counter, and unfolded the sheet. It was heavy linen stationery with the St. Clair family crest on the top above Augusta St. Clair’s name and post office box in Greenwich, Connecticut. The message was short and to the point.

Dear Mr. King,

I am writing on behalf of my granddaughter-in-law, Rachel St. Clair. She wishes me to inform you that she wants nothing further to do with you or anything having to do with her old life. She requests that you cease annoying her by writing letters and that you refrain from attempting to communicate with her in any way. If you persist in your efforts, we will be forced to seek injunctive action.

Yours Truly,

Augusta St. Clair

Daniel’s heart sank. He stared at the letter from Augusta and then at his unopened letter to Rachel. Something didn’t feel right. He looked up. Mrs. Shoemaker was making strange pointing motions with her eyebrows. Then he felt a large hand rest on his shoulder.

“What’s this?”

Startled, Daniel looked around. His father stood behind him, looking over his shoulder at the two letters in Daniel’s hands. It seemed Mrs. Shoemaker suddenly remembered something she had to do in the back room, for she disappeared. Daniel faced his father.

“Can I see that?” his papa asked.

Reluctantly, Daniel handed over the letter from Augusta. His father read it and then sighed. He folded it and handed it back.

“And the other?”

Daniel pulled away. “It is personal, Papa.”

“Also, das ist persönlich? And is it from Rachel?”

Daniel trembled under his father’s stern gaze. “Nein, Papa. It is a letter I wrote to Rachel.”

Mr. King looked at his son. And then he motioned Daniel to follow him and walked outside. He put his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “Walk with me, son.”

They walked down the steps and turned left. The King’s buggy was standing next to the yellow metal post next to the phone booth at the side of the building. Daniel’s mother was waiting in the buggy, and she started to speak as they passed. But Daniel’s papa motioned to her and kept walking. The fallen leaves crunched under Daniel’s feet as he walked with his father, and the crunching sounded like bones breaking. The stark, bare limbs of the trees stood up like withered arms reaching out for a last bit of life from a cheerless sky. They walked a few blocks before Mr. King spoke. “You know that Rachel is under the meidung, the bann?”

“Ja, Papa.”

“And you know that it is forbidden to communicate with her because she has chosen to live outside our faith and our Ordnung?”

“Ja, Papa.”

Mr. King stopped and turned to his son. “Daniel, you are a good son. You are strong and faithful, yet you are also kind and gentle. You have never given me any reason to be other than very proud of you.” He looked down at the letter in his hand. “The Ordnung may seem strict and without grace. It may seem to you that we are keeping rules by the letter of the law and not the spirit. And yet I know that the Ordnung are good if we understand that they have been written to protect our faith and our people and to keep us pure and undefiled from a world that is walking with the devil.”

“I know that, Papa—”

Daniel’s father went on. “I will not say anything about this to anyone. I trust you and know that except for your deep love for this girl, you would never have broken our rules.”

Daniel dropped his eyes. The pain in his heart was almost more than he could bear.

“But I also know that if you continue on this path, it will only bring you great sorrow.”

Daniel looked at his papa. “Daed, Rachel is in trouble. I just know it. She never would have said those things to me. Something’s wrong. She sent me a letter a few weeks ago, and I could tell she was troubled.”

“Of course she is troubled. Sie wird gestört. She disobeyed her father and mother; she married outside her faith; she is bound by enormous wealth. Son, you cannot serve Gott and mammon, too. Her sins have found her out and her conscience is tearing at her.”

“But, Daed! She needs my help. I just know it.”

Mr. King held up the letter from Augusta. “Daniel! You are so bound up by this girl that you cannot see the truth. You are so blinded that you don’t see what this is. This is not a letter from” —he glanced down at the signature—”from Augusta St. Clair. It is a letter from du lieber Gott. He is telling you to stop, to give her up, to get on with your life. Don’t you understand?”

There was a long silence while father and son stared at each other. Finally, Daniel spoke.

“Ja, Papa. I understand.”

But he did not understand at all.

*****

It was late in the day. Daniel sat on a stump among the trees on the top of the knoll behind his father’s house. He was looking east. It had turned cold, and a flurry of snow had fallen before the family got home from the post office. But then the clouds had cleared and now the setting sun behind him cast long shadows toward the east. The remains of the brief storm scudded east on a brisk breeze from somewhere to the west and the trees above him rustled and shook. Daniel pulled his coat closer around him and then stood up and stamped his feet to get the circulation going.

That cold front is moving east. It will be snowing in Connecticut tonight.

He was stiff from the cold, but his thoughts were not on the temperature. Somewhere out there, Rachel was in trouble. Daniel could feel it in his whole being. Finally, he slipped to his knees, bowed his head and began seeking the Lord in prayer.

Lieber Gott im Himmel, I have to do something. Rachel needs me. Those people that she went with, they are bad. Helfen Sie mir, Herrn, show me how to help her.

And then, as clearly as if a voice had spoken, Daniel knew what he had to do.