Chapter Twenty-Three
Rachel did her best to distract herself from her worry by throwing herself into her work.
She took to getting out of bed earlier, rising when Ruth did.
The sun wasn’t yet up in the mornings when she pulled on one of her tan work dresses, pinned up her hair, and went out to help with the morning chores.
The chickens had become largely her responsibility, a fact that pleased her because it meant that Mason was able to get some extra sleep.
Sometimes he took advantage of that fact. Other times, like today, he did not.
“I’ll hold the basket, all right?” He was kneeling in the dirt and holding onto it with both hands. “I’ll be very careful, Rachel, I promise. I won’t drop it. I won’t let any of the eggs break.”
“I know you won’t,” she told him gently, giving him a smile.
Ever since the day of the fire in the kitchen, Mason had transformed.
He had become much more careful, much more attentive to what he was doing, and there was a new respect in the way he comported himself.
His hair was combed neatly today, his face washed and his clothes clean and well-fitting.
The bullying at school had stopped, as far as Rachel was aware—certainly Mason had been coming home with smiles on his face instead of scowls lately.
It isn’t as though I can ask Jennifer what’s happening there. That bridge had been well and truly burned. She would have to find a different way to get whatever information she might find about Mason’s schooling.
She knelt on the ground, reached into the coop, and pulled out eggs, one after another.
Carefully, she handed them to Mason, who took each one in both hands before settling it in the white wicker basket on the ground in front of him.
When that was finished, she turned to face him.
“Do you want to do the feeding? I know that’s your favorite part. ”
“Oh, yes please!”
She moved to the side, letting him take her place.
He picked up the bucket of feed and sprinkled a handful of it into the coop, and Rachel heard the clucking and the rustling of feathers that meant the chickens knew breakfast had been served.
She got to her feet and picked up the basket, looking for a moment in the direction of the horse pasture.
Adam would be out there now, letting the horses out for their morning run, making sure they were fed and watered.
She looked down at Mason. “Shall we go get breakfast started?”
“Do you think we have time for pancakes today?” He fell into step alongside her.
She smiled down at him. “Sure,” she said. “I think we’re up early enough to make that happen. And it will be a nice surprise for Adam.”
Mason let out a whoop of joy and ran ahead of her.
Rachel couldn’t help smiling. Was this the same sullen boy she had met when she had first arrived here?
He was so exuberant now, so full of life.
She walked up the porch steps and into the house, where she placed the eggs on the counter and reached for her brown apron, ready to begin the cooking.
Mason had already gotten things started for them by setting the pan on the stove. He had not started the fire—he’d avoided doing that since the incident—and Rachel didn’t remark on that. She did it for him. “Do you want to break the eggs for the batter?” She knew how he liked to do that.
He took out the mixing bowl. “I wish we had pancakes every morning,” he said, choosing an egg.
“They wouldn’t be special anymore if you did,” she pointed out.
He laughed. “Pancakes would be special even if they were the only thing I ever ate, ever.”
Rachel laughed too and passed him more ingredients for the pancake batter, which he began to mix in. “‘Let your moderation be known unto all men,’” she quoted.
He looked up at her, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“It’s from the Bible. It means you should enjoy things, but in reasonable amounts. For example, you should have pancakes, but not every day.”
“The Bible has something to say about that?” Mason had not yet attended church with her. She had issued the invitation a few times, but he had declined, and she hadn’t pressed the issue.
“The Bible has something to say about most things, if you read it carefully.” She wiped her hands on her apron and took the mixing bowl from him. “Why don’t you set the table?”
Mason went to get the silverware, and she went on.
“The Bible is more than just a book. It’s a special book that God wrote just for us, to help us know how to live our lives.
And even though it’s very old and was written a long time ago, because God created it, He could see what we would need today. ”
“So the Bible has things in it that are for me,” Mason surmised. “Even though it was written before I was born?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him, warm with happiness at the realization that he was taking an interest. So she had been right not to push him.
“Why don’t you come along to church with me this Sunday?
Pastor William will be giving a sermon, and he has a way of talking about the things people most need to hear. I’ll bet you’d learn something.”
Mason bit his lip. “I could go,” he said. “Maybe it would be kind of fun.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” She smiled encouragingly.
Mason smiled too. He sat down at the table to wait as Rachel began to pour the batter into the pan.
She felt better than she had in days. What was happening with Jennifer was terrible, and the process of letting go and allowing God to work His will in Jennifer’s life was a constant ache in the pit of her stomach.
But she had done all she knew how to do.
Jennifer didn’t want her help, and to continue to go after her and try to convince her would only push her to be more defensive.
But to see Mason finally deciding he was ready to give church a try—that was a balm to the pain in her soul. God had asked her to cope with something difficult, but He was offering her this kindness too, softening Mason toward her and toward the church.
And if Mason can be brought around…perhaps it’s only a matter of time until we are able to convince Adam, too.
***
Two more days passed.
It was Saturday evening, and the three of them were seated around the table with a dinner of meatloaf and vegetables.
Mason, who had in the past made faces and turned his nose up at an offering of meatloaf, was eating it without complaint tonight.
He had cut the meat up into tiny bites and his nose wrinkled every time he ate one—he still didn’t much like this dish, Rachel thought fondly.
But his attitude had changed so drastically lately.
Adam was another matter. He was eating with gusto, so enthused by the meal that he hadn’t even stopped to talk. It had become customary for the three of them to share details about the ways they had spent their days while they had dinner, but tonight there was none of that.
Mason caught Rachel’s eye, glanced at Adam, and smirked.
Rachel grinned back, in on the unspoken joke.
She took a breath. Now, while he was in a good mood, would be the perfect time to broach the potentially awkward topic. “Adam?”
“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his plate.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring this up sooner…” It had been intentional, the decision not to. She had worried that if it was a known topic, Adam would find a way to interfere, to change things. “Mason has asked about going to church, and I’m planning to bring him with me tomorrow.”
Adam looked up from his plate and slowly set his fork down.
Rachel braced herself.
He looked at Mason. “This is something you want?”
Mason, too, had stiffened slightly. “I…is it all right? I know you don’t go to church, Adam.
I thought maybe we don’t go…but I know Rachel does, and she says she’ll take me with her, and…
and it seems like it might be interesting.
That’s all. I just thought I might like to find out what happens there. ”
“No, it’s all right,” Adam said, looking from Mason to Rachel. “We did agree on this—that if he wanted to go to church, you could take him. Mason, if you want to go, you should go.”
“Will you come?” Mason asked.
Adam’s shoulders tensed. “No,” he said shortly. “That isn’t for me. You can go with Rachel.”
It was as good a result as Rachel had any right to hope for, and she knew it. She smiled at him, hoping he understood her gratitude.
Adam went back to eating, but his vigor had dimmed.
Rachel’s heart felt heavier. It was such a good thing that Mason was ready to come to church.
Surely it would be the beginning of a relationship with God, something he had sorely needed in his life.
But the fact that it was so difficult for Adam to reconcile did hurt her.
If only this could be easier. God, if only You would reach out to Adam.
If only You would ease this resistance he has to Your presence, help him find his way back to You.
I’m doing all I can. I believe You want me to guide him in this. But I feel as if I’m failing.
She took a deep breath. Sometimes, when she prayed, she would receive a calm wave of certainty through her body, as if someone had placed a strong hand on her shoulder, or even on her heart. As if someone was whispering, hush, now, everything will be well.
And sometimes that didn’t happen. She knew the lack of that feeling did not mean that God was absent or that He hadn’t heard her. It only meant that He wasn’t ready for her to feel certain of the outcome yet. It means I need to keep working on this. You’re putting it in my hands.
The trouble was that she wasn’t sure her hands were up to the challenge. There was so much standing between Adam and an openness to returning to God, and to church. The distance felt impossible to bridge, and she didn’t know what to try that hadn’t been tried already.
She had finished her food, and now she stood up and began to gather the dishes. Mason held his up eagerly, even though only half the meatloaf had been eaten.
She took it from him. “There won’t be more if you’re hungry later,” she cautioned him. “But you can always get an apple if you want one.”
He nodded. He was familiar with that rule. “I’m full,” he said.
“All right.” She moved toward the counter, set the first load of plates down, and then returned to get Adam’s.
He had finished every bite, as she had known he would, and he looked up at her and offered her a small smile as she took his plate.
It was enough—she understood that things were all right between the two of them, even if the talk of church had created an awkwardness.
The tension in her body thawed, and she smiled back.
And then there was a knock at the door.
Mason stopped where he stood, turning toward it as if he meant to go and answer it, but Rachel caught him by the shoulder and held him back.
Thoughts of the last visitor to their house spun through her head.
She didn’t think Nathan would be back—he had no reason to come back—but the idea of him in a room with Mason turned her stomach.
“Mason, go to your room,” she told him.
He stared at her. “Why?”
“Do what Rachel tells you.” Adam’s voice was brusque and serious enough that Mason’s eyes went wide and he scurried away. Adam made eye contact with Rachel, then waved her with one hand toward the hallway.
So he was having the same thoughts she was.
She shook her head. She was staying. Whatever was happening, he wasn’t going to face it alone.
He shook his head at her in clear disbelief and gestured again.
She folded her arms across her chest and waited.
Adam gritted his teeth, closed his eyes briefly, and went to the door. Just as he reached for the knob, the knock came again—faster this time, and more urgent.
Adam paused a split second longer, then reached out and pulled it open.
Rachel’s insides seemed to disappear. She couldn’t breathe. There was nowhere for the air to go. She was hollow—and then, as she took in the sight before her, the hollowness filled up with horror like a dark tide rising.
It was Jennifer. And for a split second, Rachel felt nothing but pleasure at the sight of her.
But Rachel had never seen her like this. Her clothes were torn and dirty. Her face was streaked with tears—and in fact, she was crying still, arms wrapped around her stomach as if to hold something in.
On the side of her face, Rachel could make out a bruise that was only just starting to form.
She rushed forward, pushing her way past Adam. He was so taken aback that he didn’t try to stop her or interfere at all, and then her hands were on her sister’s shoulders. “Jennifer. Oh, Jennifer…come in. It’s all right. You’re safe. Oh, goodness…what happened?”
But she had a feeling she knew the answer to the question.
To judge by the way Adam’s eyes had narrowed at the sight of Jennifer, he knew it too.
He pulled down a glass and began to fill it with water, and Rachel guided Jennifer to a chair and sat her down.
Jennifer collapsed into the seat as if she was on the verge of passing out, covered her face with her hands, and began to cry in earnest.
Adam came over and set the water down beside Jennifer, and Rachel nodded thanks to him.
“Should I leave you alone?” he murmured.
Perhaps the wise answer would have been yes. But in that moment, Rachel knew that she didn’t want to be alone with this. Something horrible had happened to Jennifer, and she needed to find out what it was.
And she wanted Adam by her side.
“Stay,” she implored him, nodding to a vacant chair, and he sat down and folded his hands on the tabletop, waiting.
Rachel turned back to her sobbing sister and took her hands. “Jennifer,” she whispered. “What did he do to you?”