Received your letter on Thursday, the twentieth of September and am sending an immediate reply. I am procuring a young man to personally deliver this letter for a speedier delivery. I know it will be weeks before you receive this, but I pray that Father and dear Aunt Hannah are both faring better by that time. The many Southern cousins that reside nearby send their regards and wishes for a speedy recovery.
Clara and I have decided a visit is long overdue and wish to winter with you. It is only right you should finally meet your daughter-in-law after three years. We will stop briefly over in the city of Manhattan to see Cousin Joel before heading up the Hudson. Clara so wants to see the thrill of the metropolis before heading farther north.
Clara is excited about visiting New York and coming up to Mamakating. She will have an excellent opportunity to see my hometown and the people I love the most. I am sure you will love her. It will be wonderful to once again spend Christmas and your anniversary with you. God willing, we should arrive around the twentieth of November if the weather is good and travel on the canal is not hampered by ice.
I also wish to inform you that I am sending two boys with some baggage. They should arrive on or about the tenth of November. Please have someone meet them. My boxes can be left for me to tend to, but please have Mary immediately air out the precious wife’s clothing which are in the largest crates. You all know how she wants her belongings cared for. Free everything from the containers, and I am sure all will be well by the time we arrive.
Father, you will find enclosed in this correspondence several papers for you to address. I am sure you will take care of the boy delivering this letter as well as the two boys accompanying the baggage. Give my love to Jayne, Aunt Hannah, and Uncle George. God’s blessing upon you all.
Your loving son, Jim
Jayne put the letter down next to her soup bowl and looked up at her parents, before picking up her spoon to eat.
“Oh, Marc.” Jayne's mother, sitting in a straight-backed chair alongside the old battered table, looked at her husband. Her once raven-black hair, now heavily streaked with gray was, as always, escaping the bun she tried to restrain it in. “One part of me truly rejoices that Lil’ Jim will be coming home, but this is the third shipment this year! Doesn’t he realize just how often he has been sending these boys and boxes? He must be more careful. It is so much harder to protect and provide for them with the Fugitive Slave Law being enforced.”
"Mother . . .” Jayne gasped, surprised at her mother’s comments Did she fear man rather than God? but before she could protest, her father’s pale face lit up with a gentle smile.
“Hasn’t that law been in effect for years?” J he questioned as he reached over to pat his wife's trembling hands. “In God’s providence, haven’t the slaves been able to come here without hindrance? Have we not been able to help them begin new lives as free men and women?” He picked up his spoon to begin eating and shook his head as he asked, “Where is your faith, my dear? Which ones would you have said no to?”
“Marc,” Jayne's mother chided, “you know I would not have said no to a single one! I am just thinking about your health and Lil’ Jim and . . . ”
“Why, isn't Jim and his wife taking even bigger chances than all of us up here - in an area where slavery was abolished so many years ago?” Jayne questioned.
“You are correct. When Jim married a Southern belle, we expected the deliveries to halt, but they continued,” Her father explained to her. “It was not a subject that could be openly written about in our correspondence, so we must assume Jim’s wife is a true rarity, a Southerner with Northern tendencies. Lately, with the talk of secession of South Carolina being imminent, the deliveries are coming more frequently, and the number needing assistance are growing larger.
“Well, with Jim and his bride coming shortly, the deliveries will halt,” Jayne's father replied, wiping his bowl clean with the last hunk of bread. Popping it into his mouth, he smiled once again. “But when they arrive, we can thank this bride of his with heartfelt gratitude.”
The next ten days until the couple’s arrival was a flurry of activity. Everyone united in their preparation for the homecoming of Jim and his bride. The weather was surprisingly mild for November, and a welcoming party was planned to occur within three days of Jim’s arrival. Sheets and linens were washed and bleached on the line by the women as the men rearranged furniture for what Pete grumbled, “was for the millionth time.” The larder was checked, and any missing supplies were brought in from town. New dresses for the females and new shirts for the men were waiting to be donned as they had been sewn soon after the letter had arrived.
Jayne had heard stories of the family’s former home, which her parents left shortly after her birth. This party would have been a more formal affair with fine china and crystal set perfectly on a massive dining table if they still lived there. The guests would have been town officials, local merchants, and the pastor with his family. Now, the gathering was going to be held in the barn as everyone and anyone had been invited.
Jayne took the few remaining pieces of silverware and rubbed them until they shone, while Jayne's mother helped Mary bake extra breads and pies for the event. Exhausting as all this was, there was a smile on everyone’s lips at the prospect of seeing Jim once again. That the neighbors were asked for extra pots for cooking and to help with the meal preparation bothered Jayne. She knew they once were one of the richest families in Mamakating but now . . .
When Jayne assisted her mother in putting the finishing touches on the guest room, she asked a question that was often on her mind.
“Why did we move back here?” Jayne asked as she looked around the old cabin. Though much work had been done to it, it still was rustic compared to the big stone house Jayne had seen but did not remember living in. Not only rustic and rambling with its many additions, the homestead was remote as well. “We could have stayed in town. It would have been easier.”
“For whom?” Jayne's mother looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and regret.
“Well . . .” Jayne stopped and looked at her mother her cheeks turning red and her mouth slightly twisting. “Well, for all of us.”
“Jayne.” her mother smiled softly as she explained, “When I first came to this area as a young bride in love, this house was my first home. It was here that my first child, your brother, Lil’ Jim, was born, and this is where I came to know Jesus as my Lord and Savior. It was here I realized that love was more than a fleeting set of emotions but rather a choice.”
“But people say your first husband married you for money and drank heavily.” Jayne blushed at her own rudeness for making such a statement.
“Jayne, whoever told you that should be prayed for. Gossip is a sin,” Her mother stated bluntly. “Whatever my first husband was is between him and God.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.” Jayne, though apologizing, was confused. “But why would Father wish to move here?”
“Funds were not as they were when I first married your father. A recession occurred, and your cousin Joel had financial difficulties, causing the majority of the family business to collapse. Rather than lose everything, your father sold the farm, and we used some of the money to fix this house. Actually, this house was originally bought with your father’s money.”
“Father owned this land before your first husband?”
“No, dear, your father financed James to move here,” her mother replied. “So moving back here was an option God kept open for us through the years. Hannah and George lived here with me before my second marriage, and the funds made the house large enough to accommodate us all. If we are good stewards of what God has given us, the rest of your father’s investments will help us through the coming years. Do not worry about your creature comforts, my child.”
“I do not care about creature comforts, Mother!” Jayne replied. “It’s j
ust that this house is so . . . so far from my friends!”
Jayne's mother looked over at her and shook her head. “Home is where you make it, my dear. Hannah and George can no longer take care of such things as keeping the fires burning and preparing all their meals,” She said, pointing out what Jayne already knew in her heart. “This house was their first home after your father freed them, and your brother and I were their first ‘children.’ It is only right that we take care of them now in their old age.”
“I know, but what about Mary and her family?” Jayne was horrified at the questions that seemed to fall from her lips but couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Didn’t they adopt her, too?”
“Yes, they did.” her mother sighed. “But Mary is running the eatery and spends long hours away from home with all the cooking and serving she must do. You know her daughters help her there and take care of their own small ones while their husbands work on canal repair or blacksmithing with Pete. Jacob and Caleb just got jobs at Williams’ Tannery. Hannah and George would still be all alone. This is not a hardship but a blessing, Jayne. Please try to see it that way.”
“I’m trying,” Jayne answered. “You know that I love Hannah and George, but life would be so much easier in town than here.” Jayne fought the childish pout pulling on her lips, but the notion of the long trek to get into town still bothered her. Growing up, she had spent most schooldays at the boardinghouse in town, and it wasn’t until she graduated that the distance affected her. She bemoaned the sturdy but ugly boots she wore most days, envious of her former school friends’ delicate slippers or fancy high-tops. Now, when Jayne was in town on an errand, she hated to lift her skirt to walk across a puddle or up a step, so ashamed her friends might see those ugly boots.
She silently asked God to forgive her for the way she was acting. Only God could help her to grow up instead of selfishly looking out only for herself. Please open my eyes and my heart to the needs of those around me.
“Now that you have graduated, most of your friends are busy going off to college or starting families of their own,” Jayne's mother pointed out. “You do not have the same freedom to visit as often as when you were a schoolgirl.”
“I know, Mother.” Jayne sighed, nodding in agreement. “You are right.”
“After this visit from your brother, you can invite a friend or two up for Sunday tea,” her mother suggested as she unpacked a small quilt from the trunk at the foot of her bed.
“That would be nice.” Jayne agreed and looked for a way to change the subject. She hadn’t meant to upset her mother. Spying the multicolored fabric still in her mother’s hands, Jayne reached out and ran her fingertips across the small patchwork quilt. “Isn’t that my quilt?”
Her mother smiled sadly as she stood, looking down at the quilt in her hands as she answered. “Actually it was Lil’ Jim’s.”
Her mother brushed her hand over the still vibrant patches of color. The emotions that flickered across her face plainly showed she was remembering other days, other memories of loss. Though rarely mentioned, her mother mourned for the babies that had died during early childhood. “It was the very first quilt I ever made, and I gave it to each of my children when they were born. Now it’s time to give it to Jim’s wife for when they have their children.”
Jayne’s mother looked at her,her lips quivering as she tried to smile. “We should be good stewards of everything the Lord gives us. You, my dear, will one day come to realize the necessity of making one’s own attire and bedding.”
“Ever frugal.” Jayne continued to touch the blanket, her heart aching for the sadness in her mother’s voice. Forcing a merry tone, Jayne nudged her mother with her shoulder. “And really, Mother, Lil’ Jim,’ as you call him, is over six feet tall!”
With a chuckle, Her mother laid the quilt on her bed. “To me he will always be my Lil’ Jim. Let’s join the others, for your brother and his wife will be here soon.”
They were barely back in the front parlor where her father and the Freemans sat by the fire when they heard young Jesse as she ran up the hill shouting, “They’re coming! They’re coming!” Knowing Jesse took the shortest and fastest route to the house meant there was still time to wait before the carriage made it up the drive.
“Amanda, you have wiped your hands for what must be the hundredth time,” Jayne's father teased her mother from the overstuffed chair closest to the window. “If I told you he was here, you would probably do it again.”
“Well, I don’t want to meet my new daughter-in-law with dirty or wet hands,” Jayne's mother replied, laughing as she and Jayne sat in two straight-backed chairs. “I’ll stop with my hands if you stop pulling on your watch fob—”
“They are here.” Jayne's father leaned toward the window for a closer view. “From what I can see, she is very pretty, and her clothes are definitely newly made. You better wipe your hands again, my dear.”
“Oh, Marc, stop,” Jayne's mother reprimanded, but she reached for her apron.
The door burst open before Jayne or her mother could get up out of their chairs. Jim charged into the room, his wife safely bundled in her fur wrap in his arms. Laughing, he kicked the door closed behind him, halting the blast of cold air, before gently placing Clara on her feet.
Swiftly, Jim untangled her from her wrap and muffler until she stood before them in a pure-white crinoline skirt, a formfitting, royal-blue waist jacket and a frilly, white blouse. The blue velvet, fur-trimmed bonnet still sat upon Clara’s head, perfectly framing her delicate features, wisps of her curly blond hair framing her heart-shaped face.
How romantic! Clara’s entrance was just perfect. She was surprised that Clara was much closer in age to herself than she had imagined. Clara’s features looked like those of the china doll Jayne had seen at the trading post. The dainty footwear on her sister-in-law’s feet had Jayne silently groaning with envy. Never had Jayne seen such boots! Just then, George also spied the objects covering the young woman’s feet, and he mumbled loudly, “Them boots about as useless as—”
“George.” Hannah poked his side as she looked up at the blond-haired woman staring at her.
“Oh, Lil’ Jim, it is so good to have you home!” Opening up her arms, Jayne's mother ran into her son’s embrace. Tears streamed down her cheek as she laid her head on his wide shoulder. “My son has safely arrived after seven long years of separation from us.”
“Oh, Mother, I am so happy to be here,” Jim murmured, enveloping his mother in his strong embrace. Raising his voice, he announced, “I knew I missed you all, but I did not realize how much I missed even these mountains and valley until they came into view!”
Clara, standing a little to the side, cleared her throat, making her husband quickly let go of his mother and turned toward his wife. Jim gave her a swift kiss on her pouting lips, before turning her toward his mother. “Mother, I wish you to meet my bride, Clara.” Jim took his mother’s hand and drew her closer so he could join the two women’s hands together. “Clara, meet my mother, Amanda van Hoyton.”
Jayne's mother smiled at the young woman before her, but Clara was visibly trembling. Jim explained, “I know she is exhausted from the long journey and is nervous of this new beginning.”
“Welcome to the family, dear Clara.” Jayne's mother lightly squeezed the limp fingers of the younger woman. A brief flash of uneasiness crossed the older woman’s face, swiftly disappearing as she resumed smiling.
Jayne frowned at Clara’s lack of response. Was she nervous or angry or . . . just a snob? Dismissing her imagination, Jayne mentally shook herself as her mother turned to the other occupants in the room.
“Everyone! Jim has brought his beautiful bride home to us!” She spoke loudly due to the deafness of the other occupants in the room. Waving toward those seated before the large roaring fire, Jayne's mother continued, “Clara, let me introdu
ce you to my husband. This is Jim’s stepfather, Marc van Hoyton.”
“How do you do, sir?” Clara finally said, directing all her attention at the fragile-looking man before her. Removing her bonnet, she freed her luxurious blond hair, lifting a delicate hand to retrieve a wayward curl. Tilting her head ever so slightly, she smiled and gave a small, dainty curtsy. “I must say, your likeness to your handsome nephew, Joel, is quite remarkable.”
“My dear, one should not lie so prettily,” Jayne's father laughingly reprimanded her, his eyes twinkling.
“Now, Clara, do not make me jealous by flirting with my parent.” Jim slipped his arm around his wife’s waist and planted a light kiss on the top of her fair hair.
“I am sure you have nothing to worry about, my son.” Jayne's father, continued to smile, but looked at his own wife standing by the young couple. “Besides, I have never had eyes for anyone but my dear Amanda from the first time I saw her.”
“I do not know about who is flirting with whom but . . .”—Jayne stamped her foot to get everyone’s attention—“but I believe there are more important things that need to be addressed, particularly the rest of the introductions, if you please.”
“Of course!” Jim chuckled as he released his wife and strode across the room to snatch Jayne from her seat and spin her around in a circle. He shouted over his shoulder, “Clara, this is my darling little sister, Jayne.”
“Put me down, you oaf!” Jayne tried to look angry, but the sight of her brother thrilled her heart. “And I am not little! I am all grown up now, practically a spinster.”
“What? Has my sister learned a new word since I saw her last?”
“I have a few others . . .”
“Children,” Jayne's mother softly chided them, but once again her tears overflowed as she looked at her children together once again.
Secret Way to the Heart Page 4
