The Refuge

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “I will have to ask permission of the Ministry.” Eldress Maria sounded hesitant.

  “Do not concern yourself. I will do so for you. They will agree this is best for our new sister.” Sister Lettie smiled at me. Her smile got wider as she pulled back the kerchief around the baby to look at her. “Do you have a name for her, young sister?”

  I did not, for I had been that sure of having a son. A son named Walter. But the sweet bundle in my arms deserved a good name, and one came to mind without me searching it out.

  “Anna Grace,” I said. Walter had told me his mother’s name was Anna. While I never met her, I loved her son and was grateful for the woman who raised him.

  “A fine name.” Sister Lettie nodded toward Sister Ellie. “Let your sister there take sweet Anna Grace and wrap her in something soft from those things you have ready. This kerchief is too stiff. Then you can let her nurse. The mother’s first milk is important to a baby’s health.”

  With some reluctance, I surrendered Anna Grace to Sister Ellie. Sunlight was filtering through the window and I wanted to continue to study my little one’s face in the morning light.

  Sister Genna had already found the bundle of clothes, and she and Sister Ellie hovered over Anna Grace, cleaning her little bottom and wrapping her in a soft diaper. I watched from my bed. Sister Helene edged closer to watch too. She seemed unsure of what to do. She was usually the one leading us, telling us the rules and what was expected, but she had no idea what to expect with a baby in the room.

  Eldress Maria was not as hesitant. “The bell for the morning meal will ring soon. We need to be about our morning duties.”

  Sister Helene looked even more conflicted. What could she tell us to do? I certainly had no energy to rise from my bed for any sort of duty other than holding my newborn. Sister Ellie and Sister Genna paid Eldress Maria no mind and continued to fuss over Anna Grace.

  “Indeed, such duties are important and necessary,” Sister Lettie said. “But there are times when duties must be adjusted to allow for the unexpected, Eldress. This day you and I and Sister Helene will go about our regular duties, but young sister here will need the help of one of her sisters. Sister Ellie and Sister Genna can share the time of care.”

  “We should just move her to the infirmary.” Eldress Maria was frowning. “That would cause less upheaval.”

  “Upheaval is good for the soul at times.” Sister Lettie’s smile stayed steady. “The young sister and our new baby sister will be fine here.”

  “If you insist it must be so.” Eldress Maria gave in, but I feared I might pay the cost later. She was not one who liked her authority challenged. Even so, I was glad to stay here with Sister Ellie and Sister Genna, who had stepped out of her lonely isolation to assist me in my time of need. Now she swaddled my baby with gentle care before she handed her back to me.

  “She is beautiful,” she whispered. “From her head to her toes.” She pulled back the blanket to reveal Anna Grace’s sweet toes. My heart swelled with love at the sight of their perfection.

  “But she is very small.” Sister Lettie sat down on the edge of my bed. “An early baby needs extra care. You must be sure to feed her as often as she will eat and keep her warm. After her struggle to come into the world, we don’t want to lose her now.”

  “How do we keep fevers away?” Sister Genna’s words chilled my heart.

  “We don’t. We have found no medicinal herbs to stop fevers. All we can do is pray the Lord will put a protective hand over this baby and give her the grace to grow in health. Grace, something we all need in plentitude.” Sister Lettie wrapped the blanket back around Anna Grace’s toes. “Now let us see if she has energy enough to nurse, young sister, although she looks ready to sleep. That’s something you both must do today. Rest.” Without taking her gaze from Anna Grace, she said, “We will need that cradle this morning, Eldress.”

  “I will see to it.” The eldress took one look back at the bed. For a few seconds, she paused and I thought she might come closer to better see the baby. “Come, Sister Helene. We have work to do to make up for these others.”

  “Give me a moment.” Sister Helene turned from the door and came to my bed. “I rejoice breath did come to your baby.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead, then kissed her fingertips to touch Anna Grace’s cheek. “She will be a wonderful sister, just as you are.”

  I thought to contradict her words. Her sister, perhaps, but my daughter. But I kept my peace. It was not a time for disputes. For now, Anna Grace would be near me and that was an answer to prayer. For now.

  Sister Ellie’s thoughts must have been the same, for she leaned near me. “A prayer answered. Rejoice in that and worry not about the days beyond.”

  Sister Lettie heard her words. “Rejoice in the gift of each day given to us. Good advice, Sister. And what a gift this is. To have the chance to bring a new baby into the world after all this time with the Shakers.”

  “Have none before come into the village in the expectant way?” I asked.

  “None while I have been doctoring here,” Sister Lettie said. “Now let us see if your little one is a natural at getting her meals or if she will need coaxing.”

  She did need a bit of encouragement to latch onto my nipple and even then sucked only a few minutes before she fell asleep.

  “Let her sleep, but wake her in an hour if she hasn’t already roused and feed her again. She is very small. Not even five pounds or I miss my guess. But I have faith she will thrive under the gentle care you and these, your sisters, will give her.” Sister Lettie stood up. “Now I, the same as Eldress Maria, must be about my duties. Plus if I have the time right, the morning meal bell will be ringing at any moment.” Sister Lettie sent another firm look my way. “You are very thin, young sister. A proper Shaker takes care of her body and you have double reason to do so now.”

  “Should I get up and go to the eating room?” I wasn’t sure I could, but I was ready to try if the old doctor said I should.

  “Nay. You must stay here and rest. Best to stay off the stairs and use the chamber pot for a few days. I will come back later to check on you. Meanwhile these two sisters will assist you and bring your meals.” She wagged her finger at me. “No cabbage. A nursing mother must eat with the sure knowledge that her food becomes baby’s food, and cabbage, although a perfectly good dish for our table, is not on a baby’s menu.”

  “I know what is good,” Sister Ellie said. “I nursed my five babies. So I will see to Sister Darcie’s morning meal and then go to my duties. Sister Genna can stay. I have laundry duty, which would mean extra work for my other sisters if I do not do my part, while Sister Genna has been working in the sewing room. Perhaps she can bring some new cloth here to our room to fashion into more diapers.”

  “Is that all right with you, Sister Genna?” I didn’t want her to feel pushed to do anything she did not want to do. “I can stay by myself.”

  “Nay, not on this day,” Sister Lettie said. “Your sisters have worked things out. Accept that, young sister.”

  I bent my head. “Yea.”

  After Sister Ellie and Sister Lettie left, Sister Genna took Anna Grace and fixed her a warm place on Sister Ellie’s bed beside mine. Since the beds were on wheels to allow easy cleaning under them, Sister Genna scooted the bed close to mine.

  “There, you can watch her while I take the dirty linens to the washhouse.”

  The bell for the morning meal rang then.

  “Go get your breakfast too. I’ll be fine until you can return.” I reached for her hand. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you and Sister Ellie.”

  “Nay, you would have come through it anyway.” She shrugged off my thanks.

  “Not as well without my sisters.”

  “Yea.” Her face softened as she looked from me to the baby. “It can be a good thing to have sisters.”

  She picked up the towels and sheets and was out the door. I could hear the Shakers on the stairs and gather
ing on the floor below to go in to their morning meal. There they would kneel by their chairs for a moment of silent prayer and maintain that silence even after they sat at the tables. The only noise would be chairs scraping against the wooden floor as the Shakers sat down and spoons clattering as portions were dipped out of the serving bowls. At times the sound of my own chewing had seemed loud in the silence. Eating was serious business for the Shakers, and now it needed to be the same for me so that I could feed my baby.

  I wished for a drink of water. I was weak and sore, but the journey through the birthing valley had been worth it. I watched my baby’s chest rise and fall and thought of Walter then. How I wished I could see him holding this precious child.

  “She will be strong like you,” I whispered into the air over my baby’s head.

  I could almost hear Walter’s words coming back to me. “It’s your strength she needs.” He had often said I reminded him of a hummingbird, tiny but forever busy about what must be done.

  But now I lay still, glad to be alone with my baby and thankful a cradle would be brought into this house where there were no cradles. I had no reason to look further ahead than that. Each day would bring new prayers for this, my daughter.

  The door opened and Sister Helene carried in a tray.

  “Breakfast cannot be over,” I said.

  “Nay. I had no appetite, so I went to the kitchen to get your food.” She set the tray on the floor.

  “I am very thirsty.” I was glad to see the glasses of water and milk on the tray.

  “Sister Lettie said you would be. Are you able to eat? You had a terrible night.”

  I sat up and looked at my baby once more before I scooted my feet off the side of the bed and turned my back to her. I would hear her if she whimpered. Sister Helene handed me the water and I drank it all. I should have sipped the water. It landed hard in my stomach, but I managed to keep it down. When she handed me my plate, I was slower eating the eggs and biscuits. The stewed apples flavored with cinnamon were the best thing I’d tasted for days.

  “Thank you for this, but I thought Sister Ellie was bringing my food.”

  “I told her I would so you would not have to wait.” Sister Helene looked down at her hands. “That is not the only reason.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yea. I want to apologize for not being a better help to you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I wished for another serving of the apples.

  She fiddled with her apron, folding it in pleats and then smoothing them out. “Your pain frightened me. I wanted to bury my face in my covers and block my ears to keep from seeing or hearing.” Her face was contorted with the effort to keep back tears.

  I put down my fork and touched her cheek. “Worry not, Sister. Birthing a baby is a raw experience. You did not fail me. I felt your prayers.”

  “I did pray. Fervently when it seemed the baby might not pull in breath.” She lifted her head to peer over at Anna Grace. “I wanted to do a whirling dance when I heard that first sweet cry.”

  “You can do such a dance for Anna Grace at the next meeting.”

  “I do not know if that would be allowed.”

  I smiled. Sister Helene did not want to stray from accepted behavior, but then here she was skipping the morning meal to come to me. My pregnancy had been a challenge and, at the same time, a wonder to her.

  Anna Grace began fussing. I looked back to see she had freed a hand from the blanket and waved it back and forth. I swiftly finished off the last of the eggs and almost held up the empty plate to prove I had indeed shakered my plate. The thought made me smile again. This day with Anna Grace’s cries in my ears and the promise of a cradle for our room, everything made me smile.

  “Would you pick her up and bring her to me?” I asked.

  Sister Helene’s eyes widened. “I fear I might hurt her.”

  “Nay. Just slide your hands under her and be careful to support her head.” I remembered my mother telling me the same when I first picked up one of my little brothers.

  She did as I said. Then she held her for an extra moment, even though Anna Grace was still showing her unhappiness. “She is so tiny and yet complete in every way. My sweet little sister.”

  She gently settled the baby in my arms and Anna Grace quieted at once when I put her to my breast. I stroked her cheek and she began to nurse. It was good to have sisters but even better to have a daughter in my arms.

  16

  APRIL 1850

  Every morning when Leatrice got up, she felt under the feather tick on her bed to be sure the pillowcase stuffed with a dress, a shift, drawers, and the Shaker stockings was still hidden there. Wrapped in the middle of the clothes was her mother’s gold pin, shaped like a horse’s head, with a pearl where the eye would be.

  Her mama had loved horses. Leatrice liked horses too, but at the same time they scared her when they snorted and threw up their heads. Papa said that’s when they were feeling their oats. Nothing to worry about as long as she kept out of the way. She didn’t want to be afraid of horses. She wanted to be like her mother. Not afraid of anything. That was why she did things that scared her sometimes. To prove she wasn’t afraid even when she really was.

  She was scared of that woman too. Papa said she had to call her Miss Irene and be nice, but that woman wasn’t nice. Even if she did smile and pretend she was, whenever Grandpa was around. The woman smiled at Papa too, but Papa didn’t like her. Leatrice knew he didn’t, but he couldn’t make her leave since Grandpa married her.

  Papa said marriages were forever. At least until somebody died like her mama had. Or like Mamaw Bea had. Leatrice’s heart hurt when she thought about Mamaw Bea. Even more than when she thought about her mama. After Mama died, Mamaw Bea took care of her. Before Mama died too. Mamaw was the one who held her and told her Bible stories about Jesus.

  Sometimes when Leatrice had a hard time going to sleep, she remembered those stories. Her favorite was about the boy who gave Jesus his lunch of two fish and five loaves and how Jesus made it enough to feed thousands of people. Leatrice liked to count the number of baskets left over on her fingers. Mamaw Bea said she had to count all her fingers once and then two of them twice.

  Leatrice sometimes wondered if the boy with the lunch was running away because something was wrong at his house. Then when he met Jesus, that turned things around for him. Mamaw said meeting Jesus changed everything around for a person and that it would for Leatrice too when she got old enough.

  She didn’t know how old she needed to be. She’d turned seven two weeks ago. That was old enough to be ready for things to change around. At least to make that woman be gone. But she was still here. Sitting in Mamaw’s rocking chair. Pretending to like Grandpa. Looking up from one of her books to smile at Papa.

  “I can teach Leatrice to read,” she told Papa last night after supper. “The poor child shouldn’t grow up ignorant.”

  Leatrice wasn’t ignorant. She knew lots of things, but Papa gave her a look that said not to talk back.

  “I’ve been meaning to teach her myself, but there’s always too much to do.” Papa acted like he wasn’t sure what to say next. “What do you think, Leatrice? Do you want to learn to read?”

  That was a hard one for her. She wanted to know how to read. Really, really bad, but she wasn’t about to let that woman teach her anything. “Sister Faye said I could come to their Shaker school to learn to read.”

  “No telling what else you might learn there.” That woman laughed. “Dancing and having fits and calling it worship. Saying they’re all sisters and brothers. Anyone who believes that is daft in the head. No telling what goes on over there.”

  Leatrice wanted to say she was wrong, but sometimes it was better to stay quiet. That’s what Sister Faye had told her at the Shaker village when Papa worked with their horse. Sometimes she wished she could go back to the Shaker village to get away from that woman who acted like Mamaw’s chair was hers now.

  Sister Faye said
the Shakers always had room for another sister. But Leatrice didn’t want to leave Papa. Or her grandpa either. He had this awful cough. She heard him in the night. Coughing and coughing.

  That woman fixed him tonics, but they must not be good like the ones Mamaw Bea made. He didn’t get better. Leatrice didn’t like to think about when Grandpa’s cough got worse. That was her fault. Going out on the pond to skate. Making him get too cold.

  She hoped Grandpa didn’t tell that woman what she’d done. No telling what would happen then. That woman would probably lock her in the cellar again the way she had the first time she was there. Before her grandpa married her. Snakes and spiders hid in the cellar. Leatrice didn’t see any, but she felt them watching her in the dark. She screamed and screamed, but Papa and Grandpa were off in the field. That woman always let her out before they came back. Then she told Leatrice bears would come eat her if she told her father about being locked in the cellar.

  Her father did find out about the bears, but Leatrice never told him about the cellar. Just in case that woman was telling the truth about the bears. Papa said she wasn’t. But then he nailed the window shut in her room and never took out the nails. Maybe she should ask him to now, in case she had to climb out the window to run away. If things got too bad.

  So far things weren’t that bad. She went to the barn and played with her kittens. She felt safe up in the loft with Papa in and out of the barn with his horses. That woman didn’t like barns. Leatrice might never have to run away, but just in case, her bundle was ready. She wondered if she could wrap one of her kittens up in the bundle too if she had to leave, but then she remembered the Shakers didn’t have pets. Not even kittens.

  Every morning when Flynn got up, he wondered if this would be the day he would have to take Leatrice and find another place to live. It had been over two months since Silas had brought Irene Black home as his wife. Flynn didn’t hold that against him. The man was doing what he thought best for Leatrice. He hadn’t realized that just any woman couldn’t come into the house and make a difference. Especially that woman.