Secret Way to the Heart

by Camille Regholec

  “David Moses van Hoyton,” Jayne told him, stressing each part of the last name. Jayne could see that the news of Clara abandoning her child had not reached Jeremiah, and his next question proved his lack of knowledge on the matter.

  “Is Mr. van Hoyton coming to church today?” The preacher was clearly trying to put the pieces together. “And Mrs. Clara?”

  My father is unwell. You might like to try visiting him someday.” Jayne was strangely enjoying the unclear message she was giving him. His quiet voice had dropped lower as he questioned her, and she was thankful her mother was presently distracted by the neighbor. “My sister-in-law returned to the South last April.”

  “So, this child is . . . your brother or your . . .”

  Jayne stared in shock at him. Even if he was a man of the cloth, that he openly asked such a blatantly personal inquiry made her momentarily speechless. Indignation at him flared hotter, and she said the first thing that came to her head.

  “His father has gone to the South to do what he believes God has called him to do.”

  By the look on Mr. Bronson’s face, he was struggling with what she was telling him. She glanced at her mother still engaged in conversation with Mabel. Jayne was well aware how horrified her mother would be if she knew what Jayne had done. Even though her omissions gave this handsome preacher the wrong impression of her, Jayne’s annoyance was strong enough to keep her from enlightening him of the complete story.

  Two hours later, Jayne wished she had spoken the truth. The man’s sermon was on “thou shall not bear false witness” and how God said liars were destined for the lake of fire that was prepared for the fallen angels. Jayne was already squirming in her seat over that message when she overheard Mrs. Lake telling another woman how she’d heard the exchange between Jayne and the man. Mrs. Watson whispered about it to the neighbor sitting beside her, who in turn told another and another, until after fellowship when one man laughed about it to Mr. Bronson himself.

  The look in the preacher’s eyes and the rise of red on his cheeks when he sharply turned to look at Jayne made her cringe. Though he laughed with the man, he clearly was extremely irritated by the news of her deception. If Jayne had not liked the man’s expression the third time she had seen him, his look now was worse. Well you did it now, Jayne! There will be no way to reverse his opinion of her!

  Bad enough the preacher knew, but Mrs. Conner went and told Jayne’s mother, who promptly took Jayne home to tell her father.

  “Isn’t gossiping a sin?” Jayne grumbled to her mother as they entered the house. “It appears to me all of those people will be right there with me in that lake of fire.”

  “Jayne, God is not going to ask you what others did on the Day of Judgment. Only your behavior will you answer for.” her mother shook her head as she gave her daughter a small push toward the bedroom. “It was just wrong what you did, as your father will explain.”

  A few minutes later, Jayne stood before her father. Just watching his face as she tried to explain her irrational behavior caused her pain.

  “May I inquire as to why you chose to blacken your reputation?” Her father’s cheeks were a strange grayish tint, and Jayne silently reprimanded herself for causing her father any more grief. He never seemed to have recuperated emotionally from Hannah and George’s deaths, and now his physical health appeared to be failing as well. She struggled for words that could excuse or explain her behavior, but none seemed suitable.

  “I realize now that what I have done was very foolish,” Jayne confessed, her chin sinking down as remorse filled her. “I see now that my words have brought disgrace to our family name. I pray you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “I forgive you, my child.” Her father sighed heavily as he sank back upon his pillows. “But, my excusing you will not stop you from facing the consequences for your lying. From what I have heard of him, Mr. Bronson is a fine, upstanding gentleman. But he may not be so forgiving about being made to appear a fool in front of those he has come to shepherd. You must ask for forgiveness from him as well.”

  “Must I apologize to him?” Jayne cried. “Mr. Bronson will only be here a few more weeks, and I am sure he will soon forget any discomfort he may temporarily feel over my deception.”

  “It is not a matter for you to choose.” He looked her in the eyes, and his blue ones seemed to pierce her conscience. “A wrong has been done. A sin committed. Only you can right it.”

  “Yes, Father,” Jayne replied.” I will repent and ask forgiveness.”

  “Jayne, do not put off confessing your sins to God and Mr. Bronson.”

  Her father knew her well. In the past, Jayne was known to delay doing something long enough so that it would be forgotten or done by someone else. This time, he was stressing the point for action. “Do not put off what may affect your future forever.”

  An hour later, Jeremiah Bronson arrived at their home for the promised Sunday dinner. Jayne's mother had prepared fried chicken as Hannah had taught her so many years before, but Jayne tried to keep from choking on her meal. The reverend and Jayne’s parents had a lively discussion on the merits of church love feasts, and no one seemed to notice Jayne’s uncomfortable silence.

  Jayne was disturbingly aware of the man sitting across from her, and she lifted up a silent prayer for a way of escape if it was at all possible. Jayne would have asked to be excused for she truly felt ill. her mother’s look gave Jayne no reprieve as she directed her daughter to escort Jeremiah Bronson to the parlor when the meal was finished.

  With a small sigh of resignation, Jayne led him to the parlor. Leaving the door partially ajar, Jayne waited until the man was standing before the fireplace before she said a word. The look in his eyes spoke volumes, and being before the young preacher made Jayne feel like a schoolchild. She hated every minute of it.

  “I apologize for misleading you on the parentage of David Moses,” Jayne quickly began. “I pray I have not soiled my nephew’s reputation by my words.”

  “It wasn’t David Moses’s reputation or soul I was concerned about.”

  “Excuse me?” Jayne gasped in embarrassment, her eyes opening wide. “W-what did you say?”

  “I believe you heard me.”

  “Well, I never!”

  “That is good to hear as well,” he remarked drily as he looked into her shocked eyes. “Why are you taken aback? Your conversation with me several hours ago, and your actions ever since we informally met, led me to believe you were much more worldly. As you well know.”

  “But I am apologizing for misleading you,” Jayne sputtered, only to be interrupted.

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Jayne repeated, confusion clouding her eyes as she frowned. “Why what? Why am I apologizing?”

  “Why did you mislead me?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know or won’t tell?”

  “I–I . . .” Jayne’s stomach clenched from how this conversation was going, and she stared speechlessly across the room at him. She’d first misled this handsome Southern stranger because of her family’s secret actions. Her friend Suzy hadn’t helped his perception of her, and William had made it worse. Now this! Oh, if only I could redo it all!

  After what seemed an unbearable amount of time, Mr. Bronson looked away, releasing her from his piercing stare.

  “You are awfully harsh. What kind of minister are you?’ Jayne blurted out in a last burst of defiance. “Why are you so distant from the people you are supposed to lead to Christ?”

  “I am on sabbatical.” He turned to face her again, his eyes burning, with pain? Anger? Jayne wasn’t sure which. “I am separating myself to regain my peace. If it wasn’t for your pastor’s emergency, I would have continued my sabbatical.”

  “Sabbatical?” Jayne asked. “How can you take a b
reak from God? From what God called you to be?”

  “You ask how?” Jeremiah growled, his jaw tightly clenching. “I had everything—a wife, a child, and a circuit of churches to preach to. I was called and had studied and believed my obedience was blessed by God, until He took it all away.”

  “God did?” Jayne sputtered.

  “Who else then?” he said, his words loud and bitter. “When the typhus epidemic had begun, my two-year-old daughter was rushed away to Pennsylvania to live with her maternal grandmother. My wife and I stayed to help the ill and dying. That’s what we are called to do, right? God would or should protect his servants because we are under His care, isn’t that what we are taught?”

  “I don’t think God says that . . .” Jayne mumbled.

  “Really?” He began to shake with barely repressed emotion. “I went to school and listened to all those teachers, and that’s what I believed. I came down with typhus, and as I lay in a hospital ward, I was unaware that my wife had died in another section of the same hospital. I was given no opportunity to attend my wife’s funeral or kiss her goodbye. When I recovered, those religious leaders over me suggested I do not attempt to retrieve my baby, because I will be too busy riding around giving sermons on the goodness of God.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss . . .” Jayne began, but Jeremiah waved her sympathetic response away as he continued, seemingly unable to stop the words he had apparently repressed for so long.

  “So I tried to be obedient,” he ground out. “But I felt empty. I grieved for my wife and my daughter. Then one day the emptiness turned into anger at God. I had just finished Sunday services and was riding out of town when I passed the town hall and heard the auctioneer begin. There, I saw many of my parishioners buying and selling humans as pieces of property. Why would a loving God permit such atrocities to occur? The elders knew I was close to an emotional breakdown and suggested a sabbatical. I received a letter from my adopted father at the same time. I would almost say it was Providence but . . .” He shook his head. “So I came North to help my guardian and try to restart my relationship with God, people, and my daughter. And what do I find? People who are doing and saying things that make them no better than those I left behind.”

  Jeremiah turned toward the fireplace as his words ground to a halt, and he took several deep breaths as if to calm himself. Jayne wished she could bring some comfort to his anguished soul but knew she would be rebuffed. She ached that it was her actions that had caused him to feel farther from God than before.

  “Do you think there is any hope for me?” Jayne asked humbly.

  The man went still. A strange expression flashed in his eyes as he turned his gaze back on her, but before Jayne could identify the emotion, it was gone.

  “You have apologized, so you can go now.” His abrupt words cut her to the quick. As she turned to leave, she stopped and looked back at him.

  “So you accept my apology?” Jayne wished she had bitten her tongue rather than pose that question, but something inside her had driven her to ask.

  “Mmmm.”

  His hesitation at responding worried her.

  “I will let you know when I figure out why.”

  “Figure out why you should accept my apology?” she retorted. “You are supposed to be in the forgiving business.”

  “Oh, but I am on sabbatical, remember?” he calmly replied as he walked past her and pulled the door completely open, standing aside for her to exit. “But I am also a man. And sometimes it is hard to forgive something another is not sorry for.”

  Chapter 13

  Jayne asked God to bless Jesse for offering to watch over little David Moses. He appeared especially cranky, but Jesse had shooed Jayne out the door with a smile and a promise. “Teeth come in whether if you sit with them or not.”

  Bible study had been a lively discussion of the Scriptures as well as Mr. Bronson’s sermon last Sunday on “God and Man, Co-workers in the Salvation of the Soul.” He’d spoken with such passion and conviction. At the sermon’s end, Jayne's mother had commented, “If only Clara had been here to hear it.”

  But the discussion was also on Mr. Bronson’s confession later that morning. The sermon was written by a Dr. Edward Wadsworth of the Alabama conference and taken from the Methodist Pulpit South 1858, a book given to him from a fellow clergyman who was also a Southerner. His reason for using that text was to show there was only one God. Everyone had to admit, one could almost believe the Reverend Bronson had written it himself. Jayne’s comment of “What? He could not find the time to write his own?” invoked her mother’s noticeable displeasure, causing Jayne once again to ask God’s forgiveness.

  Jayne glanced around the room again and was amazed at how the meeting space was so busy. Besides the quilters, there were women knitting wool socks while others sewed new uniforms to be taken to the boys in the midst of war. On the other side of the room, Relict Abigail was writing out new tickets while Jayne’s friend, Suzy, sat at a table outside, selling them as fast as they were made. Jayne's mother smiled at the sight of the young men, many in uniform, jostling each other for their chance to get a ticket. Suzy was all dressed up in her patriotic best, a red and white shawl over her blue cotton dress, and she proudly wore the brooch she’d made with some of the many buttons the young soldiers had taken off their uniforms to give to her.

  “Mighty smart of Phoebe, don’t you agree?” Cindy leaned close to whisper to her friend but loud enough for Jayne to hear. “No wonder she wants to lead the Ladies Aid Society.”

  “What do you mean?” Jane asked.

  “Well, which do you think sells the most tickets, Abigail smiling her gums or Suzy’s sweet, full smile?”

  “Now Cindy, be nice!” Jayne's mother, smiling, nudged her shoulder against her friend’s. “Suzy truly seems to draw the people, or should I say draw the young men, to purchase their tickets.”

  “And some of those lovesick young men have been back three or four times!” Jayne commented dryly. She smiled when she saw William buy one ticket, and then after a tip of his hat to her—her!—he walked away.

  As they watched the line of men slowly move forward, the three women could no longer control their laughter as Jayne shook her head and continued her musing. “I wonder. If one of them were to actually win such a light-colored quilt, what will the poor man do with it?”

  “Perhaps give it to Suzy as a wedding gift?” Jayne's mother suggested.

  “Now, Amanda, you be nice!” Cindy retorted, and the two women laughed again.

  “Ladies, you appear to be enjoying this fine day.” William suddenly appeared beside them, his hat in his hands. Though he addressed all the quilters, his gaze settled on Jayne, and her cheeks grew warm from his apparent satisfaction at catching her unaware.

  “William! It is good to see you!” Cindy lifted her cheek for his kiss of salutation. When she saw that his attention was otherwise occupied, she smiled as she swatted his arm. “Boy, do not ignore your elders! You can smile at Jayne after you greet your grandmother properly.”

  William laughed softly, his stare lingering on Jayne’s heated cheeks, but he dutifully bent to kiss his grandmother while jokingly reprimanding her, “You must not embarrass poor Jayne.”

  Thankfully for Jayne’s composure, there was a distraction as a slight scuffle began at the ticket line. Jayne and William went to the window as Jeremiah Bronson also rode up on his sorrel mare, returning from somewhere. He immediately jumped down and broke the two gangly teenagers apart, restoring order on the line.

  William smirked as he watched. Only Jayne heard his softly murmured comment. “If they fight so poorly over the favors of Suzy, the South won’t have a thing to worry about.” She hoped she misunderstood.

  “Is that a child up on the minister’s horse?” Cindy asked, causing everyone else to stop what they were doing
and rush to the windows to peer out. The comments began to flow inside the church as Jeremiah returned to his horse and reached up for the child.

  “Wonder who the child belongs to?”

  “Think she’s one of the urchins used to walk them mules?”

  “Sure is!”

  “Nah, too clean.”

  As the child leaped into the outstretched arms of Jeremiah Bronson, Jayne murmured what her heart perceived. “That’s his child.”

  Her mother’s quick glance at her was filled with surprise and speculation. “How would you know that?”

  “I-I don’t know for sure,” Jayne stammered, embarrassed once again. She had never spoken about her conversation that afternoon in her family’s parlor nor exposed the man’s past, feeling it was too personal. “I guess it’s the brown, wavy hair that is so much like his and the trust she shows at expecting him to catch her.”

  “Mmmm,” Her mother replied, her eyes on her own daughter rather than on the people outside. A small smile flickered across her lips before she turned away. “How observant you are, my dear. How very observant.”

  With a nod to the young men still standing in line, Jeremiah strode through the churchyard with the child in his arms and entered the building. Within seconds, he was surrounded by almost every woman, young and old. Though Jayne would have loved to get a closer look, she held back, staying next to William.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” William asked, his back to the crowd. The smile on his lips and the sparkle in his eyes as he looked down at her should have sent her heart skipping, but Jayne had seen the same expression used by William on many of the local girls, and she wasn’t impressed.

  “I believe it would be rude to walk away from the preacher,” Jayne commented. “Especially as he appears to be introducing the child to everyone.”