Free Where Grace Abides by BJ Hoff Page A

“You’re not that naive, Gant. I know you better.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s the differences, man, don’t you see? The Amish don’t fit in any more than the Irish do. They may be good, honest people and work hard and live a quiet life, but they’re different. Not to mention the fact that they won’t fight back when they’re wronged, they won’t go to war, and they won’t compromise their faith. Not for anything. And to a certain kind of person, that makes them suspect and open targets for harassment and even violence. There are far too many people in this world who have no tolerance whatsoever for those who aren’t like themselves.”
    Gant knew he was right, knew also that there were other reasons for the intolerance toward the Amish that Doc hadn’t mentioned. He’d long observed that there was something in a certain kind of man that couldn’t bear any sort of disagreement with what he valued. If he needed a thing or valued it, then surely others should need it and value it also. If they didn’t—well then, for some might that be cause for resentment and even vengeance.
    To one who prized the things of the world, the Amish avoidance of those things, indeed the very simplicity of the way they chose to live, just might engender hostility and, ultimately, aggression. From what Doc had told him and the little he’d already known about the Plain People, it seemed that everywhere they settled, theyeventually encountered antagonism that all too often took the form of mistreatment or worse.
    His gaze traveled back to Rachel, now standing with her arm around her mother’s shoulders. The thought of anyone daring to hurt either of them made the blood roar in his veins.
    So perhaps the bishop had been right in telling him he was not yet “ready” to live the Amish way, perhaps never would be. For one thing was certain: He found it difficult, if not impossible, to imagine standing by and not retaliating in the case of violence or harm wreaked upon someone he loved—or for that matter, on any one of these good people he had come to care about.
    As he stood watching, Samuel Beiler walked up to Rachel and her mother and began talking with them. Gant’s insides clenched. He did his best to conceal the jealousy that squeezed his chest like a vise.
    Not only did he dislike the deacon for the proprietary way he routinely treated Rachel, but he resented the fact that Beiler had the right to spend time with her if she chose to allow it. This, while his own attentions, other than as a strictly platonic friend, were forbidden. The people might treat him with kindness and even respect, but just let him go against the bishop’s admonition to avoid any hint of a romantic relationship with Rachel, and he would no longer be welcome among them.
    He couldn’t help but watch her reaction to the man and was relieved to see that same careful, somewhat distant response in her that he’d observed other times. So the deacon hadn’t won her over in Gant’s absence.
    At least not yet.
    â€œGiving Sam Beiler the evil eye is a wasted effort, I should think.”
    Doc’s dry words snapped Gant back to his surroundings. “That obvious, eh?”
    â€œBeiler isn’t easily put off, but Rachel has a strong will of her own.
    I don’t think you need to worry about the deacon. He’s no farther along with her than he’s ever been, and I don’t see that changing.”
    An uncharacteristically sour look crossed Doc’s features. “I expect I should count it as good luck for me that he didn’t decide to court Susan. He’s a lot closer to her age than to Rachel’s, after all.”
    â€œSomehow I don’t think he’d pose a problem for you,” Gant told him. “Your bride-to-be seems unaware entirely of any other man on the premises so long as you’re around.”
    Doc’s smile was