The Crossroad (22 page)

Snow-laden wheat fields met them on either side of the narrow road. In some places, large patches of frosted grass showed through, reminding Philip that one day, months from now, the pastureland would spring to life once again. The density of the snow and ice weighed down certain enormous tree branches as the horse pulled the buggy and its passengers down North Ronks Road. Philip began to wonder if Rachel was able to see the snowscape encompassing them, if she might not have associated the ice and heavy snow with her own personal state. That she, too, had been burdened with a ponderous mass.

Because Rachel was so silent, sitting next to him, he chose to accommodate her obvious need for quietude. Doing so, he created a mental picture—the best-case scenario for Rachel—that her sight would indeed be restored. Her life would return to normal, and the mission he’d hoped to accomplish would be fulfilled. He would go back to New York, proceed with his pursuit of Bible study and fellowship with the Christian businessmen of his community, and continue asking God for direction. He could throw himself back into his writing, even accept an occasional freelance assignment.

Rachel, on the other hand, was sure to have many more opportunities to remarry. She wouldn’t have to settle for the outspoken smithy from Paradise Township, after all. Even better, Annie would have a sighted mother once again!

God’s will above all else …

“Why’d Mamma and her cousins and Mister Philip hafta go off without us?” Annie asked Lavina as they stood in the vestibule of the Beachy Church.

“Well, now, girlie, I think your mamma already explained that,” she told the little girl with bright eyes.

“But how’s goin’ to the Crossroad gonna help Mamma see again?”

“Jah, I wanna know, too,” asked young Ada, Annie’s second cousin.

She wondered what more she oughta tell the children. Seemed Rachel had done a right gut job of sayin’ what should be said. She sighed, wonderin’ what she’d got herself into, offerin’ to stay with the five little ones. “Sometimes a body’s just gotta go back and see what’s in the past … for their own selves,” she said simply.

“But if Mamma can’t see,” Annie said, “how’s she gonna do that?”

“Jah, Rachel’s blind,” James added. “Been that way for over two years now.” And Mary and Elijah were shaking their wee heads in unison.

“I’d hafta say if God wanted Rachel to go in a buggy to the Crossroad, well, then, who are we to question that?”

That quieted them down, and Lavina went in search of a Sunday school lesson to read to her young charges. She’d have to sit them on the floor and pretend to be their teacher, something she’d always admired ’bout her old friend Adele Herr. That’s just what she’d do till Rachel and the others returned, and Rachel’s sight was back to normal. Leastways, she’d be hopin’ and prayin’ for the dear girl… .

The morning had been breezy and cold when Philip first had awakened, the wind coming out of the north with a few flurries. But now a stillness fell over the region, gray and gentle, as if they in the buggy were nestled in the eye of a storm, protected from future fury; far enough removed almost to be convinced that the storm did not exist at all.

His thoughts turned to Adele and her discerning reply to one of his recent letters, written before leaving New York. He had unburdened his soul, sharing his personal and professional concerns for the future.

I’m delighted to know that you are relying on God’s help with your “fork in the road,”
she had said in her letter.

He didn’t exactly know why her reply had continued to make such an impact on him. Was it because he had come to believe, as did Adele, that she had made an irrevocable life error? That she had missed God’s will for her life forty long years ago? He cringed anew each time he recalled Adele’s account of her refusal. Gabe’s earnest love had gone unheeded; she’d broken the young Amishman’s heart, rejecting his marriage proposal.

The four of them rode in unbroken stillness. He presumed Levi and Esther had immersed themselves in intercessory prayer on behalf of Rachel’s healing. He, in turn, asked the Lord for divine help during and after the possibly traumatic journey they were embarking on, searching his own heart as he did.

As he opened his eyes, the wind began to blow again, pushing back the clouds. All at once the landscape and the road ahead were bathed in radiant light. Liquid gold spilled across the snow-packed road ahead, flowing across field and stream, casting a bold sheen over every farmhouse and barn as far as the eye could see. But most interesting was the effect the sudden burst of sunlight had on Rachel.

“The sun’s just come out, ain’t?” she whispered, leaning close to him.

Turning, he was amazed at what he saw. Her lovely face was wet with tears. “Yes, Rachel, the sun
is
shining,” he said, trying to compose himself.

The noonday sun was ablaze in the sky, and he took for granted that he should have felt subconscious warmth. But beneath the layers of his fur-lined topcoat, Philip shivered.

Twenty

Rachel kept her eyes closed, seized by the radiance around her, thinking that it might vanish.
Heart, you must not fear!
she commanded her timid spirit, recalling the verses in the Old Testament.
For the Lord your God is he that goeth with you… .

Taking several slow, deep breaths, she asked the Lord to give her an abundance of courage for what she might remember, and that she would not be afraid to see again.
Please, dear Lord Jesus, help me get through to the other side
, she prayed silently.
To the other side of the Crossroad
.

Unexpectedly, a thought came to her—the name the locals had given the dangerous intersection had another meaning. ’Least for her, it did. The Crossroad could also mean the
road
to the cross. Why she’d never thought of it, she didn’t honestly know. The path to the cross was ever so excruciating for the dear Savior. A horror no one should ever have to endure, yet He chose to walk the way of it. Surely then, He would understand and see her through this day. Jesus himself would carry her to the brink of her memories, through the horrific visions she’d repressed and rejected. She pictured in her mind the Lord gathering her up, blind and tormented, into His own strong arms.

Brushing tears away, she fixed her heart on the painful journey the Lord had called her to. And she allowed herself to think back to the very day of the accident.

Two long years ago …

The day had been exceptionally hot for mid-June. But there was a breeze, which helped circulate precious little air through the enclosed market wagon. Jacob hurried the horse toward North Ronks Road. She was a bit on edge ’bout taking the shortcut to market, but Jacob reassured her that it was the best way “to make gut time.” They’d gotten a late start, and she blamed herself for sleeping past the alarm, causin’ this rushing ’round in the first place.

Leaning her head on Jacob’s strong shoulder, she closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds of birds, crickets, and the cadence of the horse’s hooves on the road. There was the humming sound of a windmill, too, and an occasional passing horse and carriage. In back, Aaron and Annie played happily.

In her hand, she clutched a letter, one she’d written the night before. It was to Esther, her close cousin, transplanted to Ohio from Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania.

“We’re comin’ up on the intersection,” Esther said from the front seat. “Thought you should know.”

“How much farther?” Rachel asked, her heart in her throat.

Levi answered. “A quarter mile or so.”

She tried to settle back, cautiously thinking through—step by step—the events leading up to the accident, aware of Philip’s presence. Yet she felt as if she might be floating through space and time, knowing full well she was conscious.

“Look at Dat’s handmade toy trains and helicopters!” young Aaron was saying as they rumbled toward the Crossroad.

Jacob joked with his son, and right then the wind plucked the letter out of her hand. Sent it flying through the window. She told Jacob she’d get it “right quick,” which she did. Jumped out while the traffic light was still red and chased the letter across the field.

When she retrieved it, she turned in horror to see the mare rearin’ up, carrying on like their driving horse had never, ever done before. Jacob was struggling, trying to control the spooked creature. Oh, it was the most frightening thing she’d ever witnessed, and she felt her very breath go out of her lungs. And then the horse charged forward into the stream of traffic.

Just now, reliving the dreadful events, she fought her way through it, clawing her way out of what seemed like a long black tunnel. She agonized anew over not being able to locate her little children, their bodies surely wracked by pain, in shock. Searching, tripping over debris in the road, she kept callin’ out their names, stumbling over Jacob’s handmade toys and the mutilated pieces of what had once been their market wagon.

A flash of light! Suddenly, Rachel remembered something submerged so deep in the recesses of her soul—ever so precious a memory—one she’d lost, repressed with all the others.

She was kneeling on the hot blacktop, on the road, cradling Jacob in her arms. He was breathing, and she was oh so glad for that. He began to stir, looking up, his eyes fluttering open as he struggled against full sunlight.

“Rachel … I see the Lord Jesus… . His arms are open wide … for
me
.” Pausing, he breathed a ragged sigh, then coughed, wincing with the effort. “Heaven’s here, radiant and bright… . Ach, it’s so beautiful.”

His eyes closed slowly, and she could feel the life draining from him. “Oh, Jacob,” she whimpered, “I love you so. Please live. Stay with us. Please don’t give up.”

Yet, in the stillness, as her husband lay dying, Rachel felt utter peace. Like a divine balm of Gilead, drenching her, warming and soothing her very soul. She longed to linger in its indescribable glow, letting the amazing feeling flow over her. Jacob, her beloved, was going home to heaven right here in her arms.

The sweet reality filled her spirit, soul, and body. In that moment, she felt sure that nothing could ever move her again in such a profound way. She wanted to stay there forever, holding her husband just a handclasp from eternity. So close to that glorious hereafter, promised to all those who belong to the Lord. Heaven’s door was near, at least for that one instant, and the glimpse of it was precious beyond words.

Her peace was short-lived as a crush of sounds flew at her—footsteps, whispers—and hot, dense air flurried ’bout her as Jacob fell limp against her.

“Step back,” someone commanded, and she felt an opening in the wall of commotion.

“Rachel … it’s over,” Philip said, reaching for her hand. “You’ve passed the Crossroad … to the other side.” He could not go on, so filled with emotion was he. He continued to cradle her fragile hand in both of his, gently stroking, offering whatever comfort he could.

Esther turned around in the front seat, her hand reaching out for Rachel’s free one. “It’s all behind you now, dear Cousin. The Lord is with you.”

“Where are we?” Rachel murmured, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Just south of the Crossroad, on Ronks Road,” Esther explained. “Levi pulled off the road when you started to cry. We’ll stay put here till you’re ready to go again.”

“You just say the word,” Levi spoke up.

“I feel I hafta tell all of you what happened just now,” Rachel began.

And the memories poured forth from her as if pent up for a lifetime. But it was the account she gave of her husband’s heavenly homegoing that touched Philip most.

Rachel made several futile attempts to control herself, to make the tears stop. It didn’t help that in spite of her faith-filled prayers, the return of her memory, and the striving she had felt in her spirit, she was still blind. Oh, there were the murky and occasional bursts of light at the end of the darkness, but as for seeing clearly, well, she simply couldn’t. And she was ever so glad that neither Philip nor her cousins were asking her ’bout that.

Truth be told, she had come out on the other side in one piece, and yet there was only the gloom of reality. Jacob and Aaron were still in their graves, buried in the Amish cemetery on the hill. She was still a widow with only one of her children left living. No hope for a love like she’d had with dear Jacob Yoder.

No hope …

She began to sob in deepest despair, her body trembling with the truth she’d had to face. She covered her eyes with both hands, letting go of both Esther’s and Philip’s handclasp. Then she felt Philip draw her near as the horse and carriage continued down the road—away from the Crossroad. She gave way to his gentle touch, scarcely aware that her head had come to rest on his shoulder or that he whispered soothing words. In her grief, she also mourned the fact that Philip would be leaving soon, returning to his own world, where she did not belong.

“Your vision is more important than anything,”
Philip had said last evening.
“More important …”

The memory of those words drowned out his compassion now. The carriage clattered onto Lynwood Road, heading in the direction of the church. The long way back …

Lavina had read through all the Sunday school lessons and was makin’ an effort to sing “Jesus Loves Me” on key when Annie asked where her mamma was. “I’m gettin’ awful hungry,” she said.