“No, it’s not that. It’s what you said earlier.”
He blinked, then handed her his handkerchief. “What exactly did I say?”
“When you were talking about the passage in the Bible... I have always thought of God the Father as a harsh tyrant, demanding His way or dispensing punishment. But He isn’t like that at all, is He? He’s like you.”
Henry’s jaw dropped. “Me? Oh, Rebekah, I don’t think—”
“You were patient with me. You loved me even when I wanted nothing to do with you. You took your sister’s children—the children of a Confederate soldier—into your home, knowing the difficulties that choice would bring. You are willing to sacrifice all that you have worked so hard for if I ask it of you.”
“Rebekah, do not think too highly of me. I am a very flawed man. I struggle with even the simplest of matters.” From his coat pocket he withdrew an envelope and held it out. “This came earlier for you. Fiona brought it.”
Fiona? Rebekah’s breath hitched. She knew who it was from.
“I didn’t want to give it you because I wanted to keep you from being hurt. I considered reading it myself first, giving it to you only if the message was kind, but I did not wish you to think I expected to be privy to all your correspondence.”
She could see how torn he was. She felt it herself. For a moment she wished he had simply burned the letter. She wished it had never come at all.
“Would you rather I read it?” he asked.
Yes, she wanted to say, for what if the words were indeed less than charitable? What if the letter was full of scolding reminders that she was a statesman’s daughter, the child of the next governor, and she owed him her allegiance?
But I have a husband who loves me and a God who does, as well. Isn’t it time to face my fears? My father need not control my life any longer.
However, she wasn’t quite brave enough yet to forge through on her own. She looked at Henry. “Will you read it with me?”
* * *
Henry’s chest swelled. The feeling of pride her request evoked was tempered only by the circumstances in which it had been asked. Neither of them knew what was in the letter, but they would face it together, as husband and wife. He again took Rebekah’s hand.
“Come with me to the study,” he said, gently pulling her to her feet.
Rebekah rose willingly but after two steps froze. “What about Kathleen?”
“She’ll be all right. We’ll ask Sadie to look after her.”
The young maid was in the hall, feather duster in hand, when he and Rebekah stepped inside. “Sadie, would you mind keeping an eye on Kathleen in the garden for a few moments?” Henry asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“We won’t be long,” Rebekah added.
The maid hurried off. Henry steered Rebekah to the study. She had spoken cheerfully to Sadie, but he could feel the tremble of her hand as she leaned on his arm. Reaching the room, Rebekah stopped in front of his desk. She stared at the envelope but did not reach for it.
Henry picked up the letter opener from the desk and sliced through the paper. The tension between his shoulder blades eased somewhat as he perused the page. “It’s from your mother,” he said, and the first line contained an apology.
“My mother?” Rebekah claimed the page and began to read aloud. “‘Dear Rebekah, First I must tell you how sorry I was to hear that you were ill. Your husband informed us readily of the case.’”
She stopped and looked up. “You did?”
“I thought they should know.”
Nodding in agreement, she returned to the letter. “‘I wished to come to you but could not for fear of your brothers then taking ill, as well. I hope you will understand. I was greatly relieved to receive your husband’s second letter, not only to learn you were improving but also because I took the communication as a sign of Providence.’”
Rebekah’s jaw dropped. Henry’s did, as well. A sign of Providence?
His wife continued to read but now silently. She sank to the floor, her skirts spreading out around her like a great island. Henry’s pulse quickened. Kneeling beside her, he slid his arms around her.
“What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing? Tears were now trickling down her face.
“This letter reveals a side to my mother that I hadn’t known existed,” she said.
“How so?”
Rebekah handed it to him. Henry read quickly.
Your husband’s letters gave me courage to believe that my lack of intrusion in your marital arrangement was indeed the right course of action. I hope you will forgive me for such. I assure you, I was not as indifferent to your future as it might have seemed.
Not indifferent? He read further.
While your father’s motives for arranging this marriage were based solely on what he intended to gain from it, I sincerely believed you capable of finding contentment with Henry Nash. Though I might have kept silent where your father’s decision was concerned, I had pleaded your case before the Lord for many years. I prayed that God would send you a considerate husband, one to protect you, guide you, give you opportunity to grow and experience life in a way not possible in this household.
Henry was stunned.
I believe God has answered my prayers. He has given you a man who truly cares for you. It is evident in the words he writes and his effort to ease a mother’s concern. I remember how frightened you were about becoming a bride. Have no fear, child. If you have not already done so, give Henry your whole heart. I am confident that you will be well cared for.
He didn’t know what to say, for he could not even begin to grasp the implication of her words. Her mother had prayed for a man who would care for her? And God answered her request? He looked at his wife. She was glowing.
“Henry, think of it. We were not brought together by political maneuvering, but by the Creator of the universe Himself!”
The thought was both humbling and thrilling at the same time. Moving into his arms, Rebekah rested her head against his pounding chest. “My mother might not have known how to express love to her children in a demonstrative way,” she said, “but it was indeed there.”
“It is there,” he said, “and to think that God would know all of the mistakes we would make...all of our failures and fears...”
“And yet He used them to bring about something beautiful.”
He squeezed her a little tighter. How soft she was, how warm. How perfectly they fit together.
“Such forgiveness, such love,” Rebekah breathed. “It compels me to offer the same.”
He knew what she meant, and he marveled over her faith. “Your father,” he said simply.
She looked up at him, her eyes as captivating as the open sky. “I know now part of the reason I couldn’t bring myself to trust you was that I harbor resentment toward him.”
“That’s understandable, darling. And you’re not the only one who is angry with him. I am, as well. I’m angry for how he treated you all these years, how he hurt you, how he still hurts you.” He paused and drew in a weighty breath. “But I know I must forgive him, as well, just as I’ve had to forgive my own father for the wrongs he has done.”
“It’s difficult, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I know if I don’t, I won’t be able to be the kind of father to Grace and Kathleen, the kind of husband to you, that God wants me to be.”
“Forgiveness isn’t something we must do on our own.”
He smiled at her. “No, it isn’t. We have each other, and God is with us. He will help us.”
Rebekah nodded contemplatively.
“I should have asked you long before,” Henry said, “but will you pray with me?”
Like clouds, nervousness darkened her
eyes. He felt a little vulnerable, as well. Aside from at the table for meals, they had never prayed together before, and this time they weren’t asking for a blessing over the food. This time they’d be bearing undisclosed, intimate thoughts before each other and God. Henry offered her his hand. When Rebekah laid hers in his and his fingers closed around it, the feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
“Thank You, Lord, for Your forgiveness. Thank You for loving us in spite of our weaknesses and failures. Please give us the ability to trust You. Help us not to be afraid of the future. Give us the grace to forgive.”
When he fell silent, Rebekah lifted her own prayer. Her voice was timid but heartfelt. “Thank You for my husband, Lord. Thank You for bringing us together. Help me to be a forgiving person... Help me to forgive my father, so that Henry and I might have a new beginning.”
Henry couldn’t resist opening his eyes and looking at her.
She was gazing at him. “I love you,” she whispered.
They were the most beautiful words he had ever heard, from the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her.
“Please...” she whispered.
Henry grinned. He didn’t have to be asked twice. Cupping her face, he let his mouth find hers.
* * *
Rebekah sat on the study floor, nestled in her husband’s arms. Her heart was pounding. Her legs were numb from being folded so long beneath her, but she did not want this moment to end, ever. The sound of footsteps, however, echoed in the hall. Henry drew back as Kathleen ambled into the room.
Rebekah stifled a laugh at the sight of the little girl. Her dress was covered in dirt. So was most of her face and hands.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Kathleen asked.
Rebekah could feel the color rise to her cheeks. She didn’t know whether to let loose the laugh or look away in embarrassment. She felt so giddy, so light.
“We felt like sitting here,” Henry said simply.
“Why?”
“Just because. Haven’t you ever felt like doing something just because?”
“Yes,” Kathleen said, and with a giggle of her own she hit the floor, rolled and landed in a heap before them. Henry pulled her up onto his lap.
Rebekah brushed away some of the dirt from her face. “Did you find any inchworms?” she asked.
“I did.” She held up five fingers. “This many.”
“I see Aunt Rebekah has taught you mathematics, as well.” Henry then chuckled. “You did leave the worms outside, didn’t you? Sadie wouldn’t appreciate it very much if she found them in your pocket when she washes your dress.”
“I put them all inside the lilies so when the flowers close up tonight, the worms will have a good place to sleep.”
“Speaking of sleep,” Rebekah said. “I believe a bath and a nap are in order.”
Kathleen’s streaked face twisted with a whine. “Do I have to?”
“If you wish to remain healthy, then yes.”
Sadie had apparently been of the same mind, for she appeared in the doorway. “I’ve drawn water for her,” she said.
Henry gave Kathleen an encouraging pat on the leg. “Go on, now.”
The girl rolled reluctantly from his lap. Rebekah started to assist, but her legs wouldn’t quite cooperate. Trying to stand, she stumbled. Henry caught her squarely in his arms.
“Let Sadie see to her today,” he said. “You should rest, as well.”
Rebekah had no desire to argue. In one swift movement, Henry lifted her from the floor. She giggled.
“I believe I require only a little assistance, sir.”
“Perhaps, madam,” he said in a most formal tone, “but I should rather offer you much.”
Rebekah spent the rest of the afternoon in leisure. She napped. She reread her mother’s letter and did a little sewing for the Freedmen’s Bureau, but mostly she thought about the days to come.
On Sunday morning she dressed Kathleen and plaited her hair. Rebekah then donned her nicest day dress and slid a few freshly cut flowers that Henry had brought her from the garden into her short brown curls. Strong enough to descend the stairs on her own power, she joined him in the dining room for breakfast.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said, kissing both of them on the cheek. “Don’t you each look lovely?”
Worship services that morning consisted of Bible reading in the parlor. Henry read from the book of Romans. Afterward the three of them joined hands in prayer. Rebekah had trouble focusing on his words. She was too busy drinking in the sound of his voice, the feel of his strong but gentle hand as it grasped hers. Knowing one of equal strength and protection held Kathleen’s, Rebekah couldn’t help but smile.
God had given her not only what she had long dreamed of for herself but also what she had hoped to find for Grace and Kathleen. He had given them a place of safety, a man who thought more of their security than he did his own. God had given them a home full of love.
That night Henry carried a sleeping Kathleen up the staircase. Rebekah tucked the blankets about her after he laid her on her pillow. Dark eyelashes fanned out upon her pale skin. Her pert little pink mouth twitched slightly.
“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” Rebekah asked.
“Besides her and her soon-returning baby sister?” he asked. “Only one thing.” The smile that parted Henry’s lips told her exactly what he thought that thing was.
Rebekah could feel herself blushing all the way from the roots of her brown hair to the soles of her feet. Taking his hand, she urged him back to the hallway.
“Henry, about Ohio...”
“You don’t want to go,” he said, but he was still smiling.
“I don’t.”
Not wanting to wake Kathleen, Rebekah motioned toward her room. “I’m concerned about what effect such a move would have on the children,” she said. “Kathleen is only now truly becoming accustomed to this house, and with Grace having been away from us...”
“I’ve thought of that, as well,” he said. “I just want you and the girls to be safe, to be happy.”
“I know you do, and I appreciate your willingness to make such a sacrifice. But I want to stay, and I don’t think you should give up your position on the city council.”
His eyebrow arched. “You don’t?”
“Your work is important. No one knows what will happen if the conspirators’ sentences are carried out. The people of Baltimore need a person they can trust to represent them fairly and justly, especially in times like these. You are an honorable man, Henry, a true public servant. I believe you can make a difference in this city.”
Perhaps it was just her imagination, but he seemed to stand a little taller. “Thank you, darling. I want to do so, but more important, I want to make a difference in my own family.”
“You already have.”
There was a long pause. Rebekah watched as Henry drew in a contemplative breath. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“I am,” she said. “I am happy. I am loved, and so are our children.”
Moving closer, he ran his hand gently through her curls. Rebekah felt her heart quicken.
“I do have one other reason for wanting to remain in Baltimore,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“The Freedmen’s Bureau. You once told me that the council was looking into opportunities to promote education. That volunteers were needed to teach former slaves how to read and write.”
Guessing where she was going with this, he smiled. “I think you would be wonderful teacher. You have already proven it with Kathleen.”
Her confidence soared. “Truly?”
“Absolutely. I am so proud of you.”
Like a bee captivated by a flower, Rebeka
h moved fully into his arms. Ours is not to be a loveless marriage... Our union is different.
She and Henry were bound together as husband and wife, not only by their vows before God but also now by their thoughts, their fears, their dreams, their hearts.
“I love you,” Henry said, his breath warm in her ear. Yielding, Rebekah lifted her face to him.
Her husband placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Then, drawing her closer, kissed her longer, more certainly. Her heart was pounding, her hands trembling, but Rebekah let him lead her to a place that, up until this moment, she had only imagined.
Epilogue
September 12, 1865
As the hazy days of summer stretched toward fall, the city of Baltimore slipped slowly back into a slumberous pace. Henry returned to City Hall. The civil unrest expected by many following the execution of Mary Surratt and her fellow conspirators did not arise. Union and rebel soldiers alike made their way back home, some to public celebrations, others to private, but no less joyful, reunions with loved ones. Business shifted from wartime concerns to peacetime prosperity. The people of Maryland began to put the horrors of war behind them.
Theodore Van der Geld mounted his campaign for governor, but without the assistance of his son-in-law. Seeking him out one afternoon following Rebekah’s recovery, Henry promised he would pray for the man but told him he would not lend any political support. Henry did not specifically bring his treatment of Rebekah into the conversation, but he was confident he had made his point when he told the man, politely but firmly, “My wife and I wish to maintain contact with you, but please do not visit our home again unless I am present.”
Unfortunately, Van der Geld said he did not wish to have any contact with him or his daughter. Susan Van der Geld, however, was a different matter. Following her mother’s letter, Rebekah had corresponded with one of her own. Their relationship was growing. The two women had met on several occasions, in the public gardens or in Rebekah’s home. Mrs. Van der Geld often brought along her youngest son, Joseph, to play with Kathleen.
When Rebekah was not engaged in family matters, she and the girls could usually be found at the Freedmen’s Bureau. Kathleen practiced her letters and numbers alongside a group of former slaves while Rebekah taught them to read and write. Grace bounced and wiggled in her baby carriage as she watched the proceedings.
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