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Authors: Kelly Long
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don’t?”
“No,” he murmured. “I don’t know how.”
Mary remembered the consternation she’d felt when he’d admitted earlier in the summer to essentially not having a sense of faith. She’d never heard anyone be so negatively definitive about the subject before. To her, faith was as natural as breathing. She’d always been taught that worshipping God as Creator was as precious as life itself.
She knew by instinct that she must tread softly when he was willing to talk about it, like now.
She found herself praying in her spirit that she might have wisdom and discernment as to what to ask this man so different from she, yet still her husband. “Why don’t you know how?”
She watched him bow his handsome head in the shifting light. “I—I don’t have what you have, maybe the gift of what you have. When you’re in this place, there is nothing here but the touch of Gott ’s hand— I know that’s true for you. But I—have to have logical answers. I have to understand why things are the way they are. I guess my father taught me that.”
“You sound sad at the teaching,” she ventured.
“Yeah, he taught me well—by always crushing everything I was interested in. He didn’t care how I felt; he needed proof that it was a worthwhile interest. I’ve never told you, but he didn’t want me to come here.”
“Why not?”
“He wants me to give up the Amisch .” He half laughed, a hollow sound. “He’s a businessman, a huge contractor in Atlanta. Building things, you know? He wants me to put away the book and the professorship and work for him. And I can’t do it.”
Mary bit her lip, wondering what this new father-in-law would say about her, but she thrust the insecurity away. She needed to focus on Jude for the moment.
“So, you cannot be what your fater wants, and you do not know how to have faith? These two seem related somehow,” she mused aloud.
He swung the lantern. “I suppose they are, but it makes my head hurt to think of it, and your feet are probably cold. Come on. Let’s go. And thank you, Mary, for listening to me.”
She knew the moment was broken but the talk had given her hope.
Jude was about to douse the lantern when something that seemed to shine caught his eye far down in the ice mine pit. He took a step nearer the edge and somehow lost his footing, dropped the lantern, and felt engulfing horror as he slipped into the pit. He caught the icy edge, dug his fingers in, and felt his legs dangle into nothingness. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the lantern roll, still lit, then looked up into Mary’s terrified face. She’d caught his wrists but he knew she didn’t have the strength to pull him up. The dog was barking, a faraway sound, and Mary’s sobbing breaths mingled with the heartbeats he heard pound in his ears . I’m going to die, right here, with her hands on mine . . . And then, in the mixed light of the cave and the lantern, the shadow of a man appeared behind Mary. Somehow, someone had happened by . . .
He felt himself lifted by tensile strength, inexorably pulled from the pit until he lay on his belly on the wet ground, his cheek against the ice and gravel, his breath coming back to him in retching gasps. Mary’s tears wet his face, and the dog licked at his raw fingers.
“Sugar,” he managed to whisper. And then he felt her rifle through his pockets to find two hard candies and slip them between his lips. He sucked hard, eyes open, wondering who the man was and knowing he owed him his life.
It took a full three minutes before he felt up to standing, and even then, he leaned against Mary and the dog for support. As she led him out of the cave and into the warmth of the morning sunlight, he glanced over her head, looking for his rescuer.
“Where did he go?” he asked, regaining his bearings.
“Who?”
“The man.”
He felt her eyes upon him, as if assessing whether he was truly all right.
“Do you
“No,” he murmured. “I don’t know how.”
Mary remembered the consternation she’d felt when he’d admitted earlier in the summer to essentially not having a sense of faith. She’d never heard anyone be so negatively definitive about the subject before. To her, faith was as natural as breathing. She’d always been taught that worshipping God as Creator was as precious as life itself.
She knew by instinct that she must tread softly when he was willing to talk about it, like now.
She found herself praying in her spirit that she might have wisdom and discernment as to what to ask this man so different from she, yet still her husband. “Why don’t you know how?”
She watched him bow his handsome head in the shifting light. “I—I don’t have what you have, maybe the gift of what you have. When you’re in this place, there is nothing here but the touch of Gott ’s hand— I know that’s true for you. But I—have to have logical answers. I have to understand why things are the way they are. I guess my father taught me that.”
“You sound sad at the teaching,” she ventured.
“Yeah, he taught me well—by always crushing everything I was interested in. He didn’t care how I felt; he needed proof that it was a worthwhile interest. I’ve never told you, but he didn’t want me to come here.”
“Why not?”
“He wants me to give up the Amisch .” He half laughed, a hollow sound. “He’s a businessman, a huge contractor in Atlanta. Building things, you know? He wants me to put away the book and the professorship and work for him. And I can’t do it.”
Mary bit her lip, wondering what this new father-in-law would say about her, but she thrust the insecurity away. She needed to focus on Jude for the moment.
“So, you cannot be what your fater wants, and you do not know how to have faith? These two seem related somehow,” she mused aloud.
He swung the lantern. “I suppose they are, but it makes my head hurt to think of it, and your feet are probably cold. Come on. Let’s go. And thank you, Mary, for listening to me.”
She knew the moment was broken but the talk had given her hope.
Jude was about to douse the lantern when something that seemed to shine caught his eye far down in the ice mine pit. He took a step nearer the edge and somehow lost his footing, dropped the lantern, and felt engulfing horror as he slipped into the pit. He caught the icy edge, dug his fingers in, and felt his legs dangle into nothingness. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the lantern roll, still lit, then looked up into Mary’s terrified face. She’d caught his wrists but he knew she didn’t have the strength to pull him up. The dog was barking, a faraway sound, and Mary’s sobbing breaths mingled with the heartbeats he heard pound in his ears . I’m going to die, right here, with her hands on mine . . . And then, in the mixed light of the cave and the lantern, the shadow of a man appeared behind Mary. Somehow, someone had happened by . . .
He felt himself lifted by tensile strength, inexorably pulled from the pit until he lay on his belly on the wet ground, his cheek against the ice and gravel, his breath coming back to him in retching gasps. Mary’s tears wet his face, and the dog licked at his raw fingers.
“Sugar,” he managed to whisper. And then he felt her rifle through his pockets to find two hard candies and slip them between his lips. He sucked hard, eyes open, wondering who the man was and knowing he owed him his life.
It took a full three minutes before he felt up to standing, and even then, he leaned against Mary and the dog for support. As she led him out of the cave and into the warmth of the morning sunlight, he glanced over her head, looking for his rescuer.
“Where did he go?” he asked, regaining his bearings.
“Who?”
“The man.”
He felt her eyes upon him, as if assessing whether he was truly all right.
“Do you
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