“You did what?” Jayne, horrified, almost dropped her plate. “You said I sent you over? Why did you say that? Did you see the look he gave me? I felt like I was a warty frog that landed on his dinner plate.”
“Well, that prince is not interested in anyone it seems.” Suzy sighed dramatically and then giggled as she turned away.
“Wait!” Jayne called out, stopping Suzy. Jayne could not contain her curiosity any longer. “What did he say?”
“What?” Suzy asked, distracted by another person.
“What did he say?” Jayne whispered, ashamed of herself for needing to know. “What did he say before he left?”
“Oh, something about brazen women need to be prayed for,” Suzy replied, clearly already bored with the subject. “Reverend Mr. Jeremiah Bronson clearly wasn’t happy at being questioned.”
“Brazen women?” Jayne groaned. Not only was she embarrassed to have him think she had sent Suzy over, but now he was probably figuring out how many sins she had committed in doing so!
“Was that Reverend Bronson I just saw leaving?” Clara asked as she joined them. A small frown momentarily creased her brow. “I wonder what he is doing up here in the North?”
“You know that man?” Jayne asked in surprised dismay. The reverend had told Jayne he knew her brother. Oh why didn’t I think to ask? If she had only inquired from Clara the information she sought, and asked her for the introduction she greatly desired.
“Of course,” Clara replied, before walking over to the dessert table. “He presided over our wedding three years ago.”
Jayne absently followed Clara over to the table and began filling a small plate with various dainties. She had imagined that the reverend was lying about his acquaintance with the family and never considered that her sister-in-law would have known him. Or that introductions could have been properly made. She sighed. His first impression of her, and second and third one as well, was not favorable for friendship—for prayer and lecture but definitely not anything else.
“Doesn’t anyone dance?” Clara questioned Jayne as she watched the crowd milling around. “Back home, we would dance until dawn at such occasions as this.”
“Methodists do not dance,” Jayne sputtered, horrified at such a suggestion. The look Clara gave her caused Jayne to wonder what would ever calm her sister-in-law down. Jayne could sense the fury bubbling just below the surface.
“Jim tells me you are a Methodist also,” Jayne commented, hoping she could change the subject as she looked down at her plate of dainties. “That is good, because our church is very active and always very welcoming.”
“I belong to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South,” Clara declared, turning her face away as if in disdain. “We see nothing wrong with dancing.”
“Oh.” Jayne wasn’t sure how to respond. After a moment, she asked, “Is there really a big difference between the North and South churches?”
“Yes, we are very active,” Clara boasted. “This very year, Young J. Allen and wife, missionaries for the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, arrived in China to establish a mission. ”
“Well two years ago, The Ladies’ China Missionary Society supported a girls’ school in China, and two unmarried teachers, Sarah and Beulah Woolston, were sent by the Methodist Episcopal Church Missionary Society,” Jayne retorted triumphantly, secretly glad she had read about it.
“As it may be,” Clara conceded, “but we have very little in common with the Northern churches. We believe in the Scriptures.”
“We believe in the Scriptures!” Jayne blurted out in protest, yet was inwardly shocked at her own words. In truth, had she not been questioning everything religious these last few years? God, are You trying to tell me something—first that scathing look from a preacher and now this conversation with Clara?
“Do you?” Clara looked at her with superior suspicion as if Jayne’s private thoughts were public knowledge. “Do you really?”
Jayne prayed for the patience she did not feel. God, put a guard over my mouth because I know if I open my lips I’ll have even more sins to confess!
Chapter 6
A month seemed to fly by, and Christmas Eve was upon them. As usual, the kitchen was bustling with activity. Linen towels lay over the trays of food prepared for later, and the visiting little ones were now dressing in front of the roaring fire. Mary and Pete’s whole family had gathered to join the van Hoytons for the church service and the celebration party afterwards. The house was filled with laughing voices and lifted spirits, filled with people who loved each other.
Jayne smiled as she caught one of Jesse’s little twins whose squirming body would not stay still to get into her dress. Hannah rocked the other sleeping twin in her arms as Jesse put shoes on her own little brother’s feet. A peaceful smile played on Hannah’s lips as she looked over the scene of joyful chaos. “What a blessing to see so many generations enjoying each other’s presence.”
“Mary!” Clara spoke sharply as she pushed open the door to the kitchen and held out one of her wrinkled skirts. For a moment, all joy seemed to leave as the little ones hushed at the angry voice above them. “How many times must I tell you I want my things pressed as soon as they are removed from the drying racks? I haven’t a decent thing to wear to service tonight.”
“Yes’m,” Mary replied softly as she held on to an escaping child’s arm with one hand and reached for the offending piece of clothing with her other. There were still many things to prepare before all went to the church services, and Jayne could not believe that Clara expected Mary to drop everything to take care of her needs.
It had taken the whole family by surprise when Clara declared she was going to church. Since her arrival, Clara had made no attempt to attend services, stating she felt unwell and needed her sleep. Jayne's mother and Jim were so thrilled at her change of heart, but Jayne hoped the skepticism she felt wasn’t visible on her face. This latest demand of Mary just increased Jayne’s doubts. Clara’s actions didn’t bode well for the evening.
Clara’s exacting attitude did not go unnoticed by Hannah, who started to rock a little faster. As Mary was still in the process of braiding another child’s hair, Jayne reached over and put the irons on the coals so they would get hot enough for Mary to do the pressing.
“Momma!” Jesse spoke up; her voice was sharp with disapproval. Though she spoke to her mother, her snapping brown eyes were directed at the pouting blonde standing at the doorway. “You are not Miss Clara’s slave!”
“Now, Jesse, it’s all right.” Mary’s voice was quiet, likely because she recognized the fire in her daughter’s eyes and was trying to calm the storm before it could erupt. “Pressin’ Miss Clara’s skirt doesn’t make me a slave but rather a courteous hostess.”
“Hostess?” Clara’s lips twisted with disdain as she looked upon the woman. “There is no way I’m your guest.”
“Well, in a way you are,” Jayne said as she finished dressing the little child, giving her a hug and a kiss before releasing her. “This house was almost completely built by George many years ago, and he, Hannah, and Mary made it their home until Mary and Pete built the house across the yard. We all are guests under their roof.”
“Come now, Jayne, you know this is your house,” Hannah protested. “Your momma’s first husband bought it.”
“A technicality, Hannah,” Jayne's mother replied, entering the room. Jayne’s mother put a soothing hand to her dear friend’s shoulder. “It was a house belonging to me, but you made it a home.”
“Well, I never!” Clara sputtered as she flung her skirt onto a chair’s back and stormed from the room.
“Do you think she will still become lovable?” Mary questioned Hannah as she finished the child’s hair and went to put up the board for ironing. “Makes ya wonder if there is a lovable bone in the woman’s body.”
“Some things just turn more rotten when they age,” Jesse commented to Jayne, and both broke out giggling, causing the older women to frown and shake their heads.
“Be nice, girls!” Hannah wagged a finger at them. “Anyway, it’s the night of our dear Savior’s birth. So let us rejoice!”
“Yes’m,” Everyone, including the little ones, sang out in unison. And once again happy anticipation filled the room.
The Christmas Eve service was later in the evening than usual, but Jayne was as thrilled at going as when she’d been a child. Breathing deeply, she wished she could inhale the very beauty of the night. The crisp, cold air, the whiteness of the snow, the black ink of the sky with its dots of light all pointed to the wonder of this evening. The celebration of the long-awaited Savior. Even the sound of Clara complaining of the cold wind on her face had yet to penetrate the joy this night brought into Jayne’s soul.
When their sleigh slid to a stop, Jayne was not surprised at how full the church was, even though normal church services had been only the day before. This was a special time, and the neighbors took the occasion to have a word with one another. The spirit was festive, with women showing their fancy fur bonnets and the men their Sunday best suits, all exceptionally jovial this night.
As Jayne and her family separated to their respective sides of the church, she smiled greetings to many friends, including William standing with his grandmother Cindy. He was finely attired as well, with his satin top hat in the crook of his arm, giving the impression of what successful young lawyers looked like. He, too, spotted Jayne and gave a small nod and a broad smile in her direction. Jayne returned the smile, but she quickly glanced away as her cheeks grew warm when a sudden vision of the brown-haired pastor filled her thoughts. A quick look around the room did not reveal his presence, and Jayne turned toward her brother to question him about the man before Jim left for the men’s side of the church. Suddenly, Clara’s words became louder and even more cutting. Jim’s mind would not be on idle chatter.
“Can it possibly get any colder?” Clara whined. “It’s not only freezing outside but inside this building as well!” Clara wrapped her fur-lined cloak tighter around herself. “What good is that woodstove if its heat only extends as far as the back pews—where I notice the old folks conveniently sit? I do pray the service will not be long.”
Though women nodded and many men touched their forelocks in greeting, Clara chose to ignore them all. She made it abundantly clear to everyone that she saw nothing to like about this night. Why did she come out then? Jayne mused as she hurried to their pew.
“Jesus was born in a country more like my home,” Clara continued, not caring about the looks she was getting. “It was hot and dusty, or at least warm—not this frigid white cold that penetrates the heaviest of garments. The Christ child would have frozen to death!”
Jim, hearing his wife’s shrill voice, returned to her side, trying to get her attention, but Clara ignored him as well. It appeared to Jayne that Clara believed Jim deserved nothing less for inflicting all this upon her. The Southern belle was plainly being as wintry toward him as she saw the present weather. With a sigh, Jim walked away and sat on the men’s side of the pew divider.
Jayne looked to her mother for help, but she just patted her hand as she quietly spoke in her ear, “Clara needs our prayers. She is in a foreign place with foreign customs.”
“We live in the same country, Mother!” Jayne objected, forcing herself to keep her voice low. “How can she be like this and call herself a Christian?”
“Do not judge, Jayne. We might not understand her behavior, but we must show her the patience that Jesus has shown us.” For a moment, Jayne saw a fleeting sadness in her mother’s eyes. “And to Clara, we do not live in the same country. She is from the South and very proud of it.”
“But—”
“Hush now,” her mother murmured. “Enough of Clara. Let us concentrate on the reason we have gathered here tonight.”
Jayne's mother looked away from her and closed her eyes, her lips moving as she silently prayed. Jayne marveled at her mother’s faith and wished she felt the same. Jayne sometimes felt ashamed of her moments of doubt. The way I feel, I wonder, Lord, do You—will You—even listen to my prayers? But Jayne closed her eyes and imitated her mother’s mannerism of praying, hoping God did hear her thanks for this night.
The rustling of the small children squirming in their seats, trying to behave, came to Jayne’s ears, and she smiled, remembering her own past. She could recall hearing the same parental whispers directed toward her to “settle down.” Though the sacredness of this night was on the birth of the Messiah Jesus, the children heard the stories of a man who only gave presents to good boys and girls. No matter by which name the man was known by, the fear of a switch being left by St. Nicholas or a lump of coal by Santa Claus caused these children to struggle to behave. This was their last chance before gifts might appear in stockings hung from the mantle or under the trees decorated in their homes.
Slowly, the sanctuary quieted down, and an expectant hush seemed to fill the air. Even Clara no longer spoke. Jayne prayed the peace of Christ would penetrate the hardest of hearts. The music began and the voices of her neighbors rang out as they lifted up familiar Christmas hymns. To Jayne, the pastor’s sermon on the second chapter of the Gospel of Luke far surpassed any he had given before. As the families departed, Jayne felt filled with a holy anticipation of Christ’s coming.
Returning home after service, Clara’s silence was a mysterious blessing no one tried to end. The table was festive with an array of dishes from around the world. A longtime tradition that Jayne’s father had picked up over the years was to have a light twelve-dish supper in which no meat or dairy were used. The meal consisted of two types of soup, one pea and the other beet; trays of pickled mushrooms; pickled fish; boiled dumplings filled with either sweet cabbage, mushrooms, or crushed poppy seeds; relishes and vegetables of all types, along with crusty breads and flaky rolls. The dessert table displayed the platters of jam-filled doughnuts, pumpkin bread pudding, and other traditional dainties served.
Clara barely ate any of the food or dainties before complaining she felt unwell and, without further ado, went off to bed. Jim hesitated, looking after his wife but, after a soft sigh, returned to his seat by Mother.
After the meal was eaten, the women and children cleared the remnants away before heading for the parlor. It appeared the men had been busy as well. The decorated pine tree in the parlor was especially beautiful as the little tallow candles were lit for a few minutes. By their flickering light all the glass ornaments glittered softly.
The once-empty stockings that had been hung on the mantel before leaving for church were now mysteriously filled. Each held a shiny apple, a large stick of hard candy, some nuts, a silver dollar, and a small homemade item. The little ones shrieked with joy at finding a corn husk doll or a wood carved animal. Jayne tried to act nonchalant about such childish things but could not contain the squeal of delight at finding a little iron flowerpot containing small metal flowers all constructed out of nails. She looked over at Pete and mouthed, “Thank you,” knowing it was his hands that made it.
Her parents smiled and lightly touch each other’s cheek when they passed. As Christmas Day was also their wedding anniversary, this eve also held special memories for them. For a moment, Jayne pictured what it would be like one day for her and her husband, whoever he may be. She quickly dismissed the image of a pair of hazel eyes gazing down into hers and children with brown, curly hair playing with their gifts under the tree.
After the rounds of hugs and kisses, Mary and Pete, their daughter Jesse, and her husband Gabriel took their respective families home across the yard, l
eaving the other adults behind.
Wrapped prettily under the tree were various items of clothing. The gifts from Jayne were happily received, and the compliments flowed over her handiwork of a shawl for Hannah and embroidered handkerchiefs for her parents.
Jayne hugged her parents after receiving from them a new dress in her favorite color of royal blue. The gifts that secretly thrilled her most were from Jim and Clara. She received the newest book by Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Marble Faun: Or, The Romance of Monte Beni, and now she would be able to exchange opinions about the most popular book among her friends. She clutched the pair of white high-top lace boots, ignoring the slight scuff marks on the fancy leather which showed they were Clara’s castoffs. Jayne didn’t care, for she no longer needed to worry about her footwear when at church. She hugged all the people present in the room. She would have even hugged Clara if she’d been there.
Jim looked thrilled at the knife Jayne's father gave him and the shirt from their mother. The little pile of gifts for Clara sat under the tree, and Jayne's mother picked them up, handing them to her son.
“Go to your wife, dear.” She smiled gently. “It has been a hard day for her. I am sure she is missing all the familiar sights and sounds of home.”
“Bless you, Mother,” Jim whispered as he kissed her cheek, then Hannah’s. With a tweak to Jayne’s nose and hearty handshakes with Jayne's father and George, Jim left the room.
Silence reigned for a few minutes as those remaining were deep in their own thoughts, before Jayne's mother shook herself and stood up.
“Time to blow out the candles and say good night,” She said as she helped her husband to his feet, before assisting Jayne with Hannah and George. “Tomorrow is another day to celebrate.”
Secret Way to the Heart Page 6
