The Refuge

by Ann H. Gabhart

  At last she sighed. “I should simply tell you that curiosity is a sin to be avoided. But avoiding an answer to an uncomfortable question is akin to lying. I have been, nay, I am very happy living the Believer’s life here at Harmony Hill, even though I have had my moments of wondering. A wise Shaker eldress once told me that such thoughts are only natural as we determine which path to walk through life. Of course the Lord and Mother Ann lead us to the best ways and it is sinful to pick wrong paths.”

  I hesitated to ask my next question, but when she looked around at me, she seemed to invite me to speak. “And is the Shaker way the only path that is best?”

  A smile touched her lips then, but was so quickly gone I thought I might have imagined it. “The only path for me. A covenanted Shaker is one who truly believes in the unity of life lived as sisters and brothers. I signed that covenant the day after I turned twenty-one. None can sign until that age. That was many years ago and I have not regretted it. Even when a few of those wondering thoughts surfaced in my mind.”

  Benjamin had fallen asleep and I moved him to a better position in my arms. He was not child of my body, but even so, in the few days I had fed him a bond was formed. A mother love that was not as strong as what I felt for Anna Grace, but a love that might grow to be as binding in time.

  “I have many wondering thoughts,” I admitted.

  “Yea, I know you do. And while I hope you find the Shaker path one you can travel, I see the mother attachment you have for Anna Grace. I have never been with a mother and child as I have been with you. It makes me think of Mary and the baby Jesus and how she pondered in her heart the miracle of his birth and all that happened. I also read in the Bible about how the angel told Joseph to marry her and they then had more sons and daughters. If I dwell on such thoughts, I can let confusion come into my heart.”

  She shook herself a little, as though that would readjust her thinking. “But here in our Society of Believers, we have a different way. We aim to make our villages places where heaven comes down to earth. To do so, we must live as sisters and brothers the way it is in heaven. Our Lord’s teachings made it clear that none are married in heaven. And then our Mother Ann had many visions showing her how our society needs to be in order to imitate heaven.”

  “Yea, you have told me that.”

  “So I have. And perhaps you will in time accept our teachings.” She did smile this time. “Sister Lettie is bringing you something that will help when you go to eat at the Children’s House, as you must, beginning tomorrow. Sister Helene has her own duties to attend to and cannot be forever bringing your food here.”

  “I don’t mind walking to the Children’s House.”

  “Very well.” Her smile disappeared. “I am unsure how much longer the Ministry will let you stay here, but for now at Sister Lettie’s suggestion and my agreement, they are content to allow it to be so. No one denies that babies need mother’s milk.”

  I kept silent. Sometimes no words were best. She nodded and slipped out of the room. I continued to hold Benjamin until Sister Lettie knocked on my door. When I put Benjamin in his cradle and opened it to her, every wrinkle in her face was smiling and her eyes were sparkling.

  “Brother Jonas made this for you.” She pushed in a basket on wheels.

  “How did you get it up the stairs?”

  She laughed. “Brother Jonas carried it, and he will carry the wagon back down to the outside steps where it must be left after you examine it. See, the basket slides off and there is a handle to let you carry the baby down the stairs.” She slid the basket off the wagon to show me how it was done. “Brother Jonas is very good at making things.”

  “Yea, I will be sure to thank him if it is allowed.”

  “Dear sister, thankfulness is always allowed.” Her smile had not dimmed. “And I hear our foundling has a name now.”

  “Sister Helene named him Benjamin. A Bible name.”

  “An excellent name for a Shaker baby.” She laughed. “My, what a blessing Mother Ann has sent us. Two babies to cheer our hearts and swell our number. And a young sister-mother to care for them. We will labor a thankful dance in our worship time.”

  21

  Leaving the Shaker village without Leatrice wedged in the saddle in front of him was one of the hardest things Flynn had ever done. Not as hard as seeing Lena put into the ground, but that pain had numbed a bit as the years passed. While losing Lena would ever be a stab in his heart, this riding away from his daughter was a fresh, gouging wound.

  “Get hold of yourself.” He spoke the words firmly. His horse skittered to the side, puzzled by the unknown direction.

  Flynn was the one in need of direction. Leatrice was not dead. She was very alive and apt to be happier at the Shaker village than at their house with all the upheaval there. Flynn didn’t want to believe Irene might be using poison as a means to whatever ends she wanted, but he feared it might be true. Things were not right with the woman.

  Since she waylaid him in his bedroom, Flynn had spent the nights in Leatrice’s room. He’d slept in worse places than the floor by his daughter’s bed, and nothing was going to move him from there after he’d awakened that first night to see Irene in the doorway, staring at his sleeping child.

  He pretended to be asleep and after a few minutes she moved away. Instead of Leatrice, she was probably glaring at him for rejecting her advances. But he couldn’t be sure of anything about her except that she had brought trouble to their house.

  After he and Silas talked at the barn, Flynn was relieved when Silas carried Irene’s tonic out on the back porch. Needed the fresh air, he told her, to make the medicine go down. He had gotten some pills from the doctor. So Flynn wasn’t sure whether those or not drinking the tonic were helping Silas, but while he still coughed at night, the man didn’t look quite so gray and tired.

  That morning when he told Leatrice goodbye, Silas hadn’t been able to keep back a few tears, but Leatrice hugged him and came up with the perfect thing to say. “Will you please take care of my kittens until I come home, Grandpa?”

  That made Silas smile. “You know I will. How many are there now?”

  “Four. Muggins, that’s the gray and white one, he’s the one to watch. He’s always getting into trouble.” Leatrice’s lips trembled a little, even as she smiled. “Like me, I guess.”

  “Well, you stay out of trouble over there in that Shakertown,” Silas said. “And don’t you ever forget how much your old grandpa loves you.”

  Leatrice gave him another hug before she ran to the barn to tell her kittens a last goodbye.

  Silas pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket to swipe his eyes. “I know I said you ought to take her to the Shakers last fall, but now I just have the bad feeling I might never see her again.” He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket.

  “You don’t have to worry about that.” Flynn put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “They don’t keep their children prisoner. Maybe I can bring her home for visits.”

  “But where is home now? Here or there?” Silas gestured toward the road.

  “Home will always be here for us, even after we move to the other place. Nothing can ever change that.”

  “You’re a good man, Flynn Keller. As good a son as I could have ever hoped to have. Lena picked well when she picked you.” Silas blew out a breath. “She took after me with rushing headlong into things, but it worked out for her.” He had looked toward the house. Irene was nowhere in sight. Probably still sleeping. “Maybe this will work out too.”

  “Maybe it will.” Flynn tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder for a moment before he stepped back and called Leatrice.

  Leatrice had leaned out around Flynn to wave at her grandfather until they were out of sight. Then she looked up at Flynn. “You won’t let him die, will you, Papa? Not like Mama and Mamaw Bea did.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Flynn had promised. But would his best be good enough? It hadn’t been good enough for Lena. Or Ma Beatrice.
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br />   Maybe his best with the Lord’s help. That was what Ma McEntyre would tell him. She was always after him to pray about everything. When he confessed he didn’t know how to pray, she taught him the Lord’s Prayer. Our Father who art in heaven.

  Flynn had humored the old woman. He was glad enough to recite the Lord’s Prayer for her, but he never thought saying the words did much good. The Lord hadn’t put any easy roads in front of him after his pa left. He’d had to make it on his own.

  But what about finding a place where you were kindly cared for and even loved after your mother went back to Virginia?

  Ma McEntyre’s voice was in his ear. That was good, he almost answered aloud, but he’d have made it anyway. If the Lord was helping him, then why didn’t he help his father stay with his family?

  People do wrong things all the time. The Lord doesn’t have us on puppet strings. So what about a woman like Lena falling in love with you?

  Now he wasn’t sure whose voice was in his head, but this time he did softly speak the answer out loud. “I am thankful for that, but if the Lord aimed us to marry, why did he take her away so soon?”

  That’s something we can’t figure out. God’s ways are not man’s ways. It could be that accidents just happen. It could be that her time had come. We won’t ever know the answer until we go to heaven.

  “It could be,” Flynn muttered. “It could be the Lord is too busy to mess with the likes of me. It could be I’ll have to keep on handling things.”

  It could be that you’re refusing to look at things with a clear eye. What about the Lord letting you see Leatrice before she broke through the ice?

  This time he knew Ma Beatrice was the one he imagined arguing with him. She had been ever faithful, even through Lena’s last days and then her own illness. If only she were still at the farm taking care of things.

  But I’m not. I’m not saying you don’t still need to handle things, but that handling will go a lot better if you say a prayer or two.

  “I did pray. Right before I went in my bedroom and found Irene there.”

  That wasn’t the Lord’s doing. His doing was you knowing the right thing to do next. You keep on praying for what to do and help will come.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He knew it was silly taking part in an imaginary conversation, but at the same time he felt better. As though he still had Ma McEntyre and Ma Beatrice watching over him and praying better prayers than any of his.

  He cringed a little, knowing how they would frown at him for thinking that. They’d both taught him that prayers didn’t have to be pretty words strung together. Anybody could say a proper prayer.

  “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . .” He kept his eyes open as he spoke the prayer all the way to the end. “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.”

  He started to say amen, but then kept quiet for a moment as his horse trotted on down the road, no longer bothered by him talking to himself. A prayer rose from his heart. “Watch over my little girl. Let her know I haven’t deserted her.”

  He worried she would think that. After Leatrice went into the Children’s House, an old sister stepped up in front of Flynn to say, “It would be best if you gave our little sister time to settle in before you return to visit her.”

  “I was told visits were allowed.” He couldn’t remember what the sister’s name was, but she lacked the sweet smile Sister Faye had given Leatrice as she led her away.

  “Yea, so they are. But in order for our youngsters to settle in and give their attention to learning our ways, it is better if a few weeks pass before family from the world return to confuse them.” The sister had smiled then. A very stiff smile. “You have brought your daughter to us for her own good. You said that yourself. I know you wish her to be satisfied and happy here. As she will be, I can assure you.”

  He stared at the woman with no answering smile, stiff or not. After a strained silence, he nodded. “A week. I’ll come back to see how she’s doing in a week.”

  The sister had inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment before she turned to climb the steps and disappear through the same door Leatrice had gone through moments before.

  The week stretched out long in front of Flynn. Had he done the right thing?

  Everything was strange. Not at all the way Leatrice thought things would be when she was visiting Sister Faye. Then she hadn’t had to worry about all the rules Sister Corinne said she must follow. She tried to do things the way they said, but she couldn’t see why it mattered which knee hit the floor first when she knelt for prayer.

  She didn’t mind the praying rules. She wanted to pray for Papa and Grandpa. She was glad she didn’t have to say the prayers out loud, since Sister Corinne told her not to dwell on where she used to live. Instead she was supposed to think about her new sisters. Brothers too, though they stayed on the other side of the hallway. Even when they went to eat, the boys were on one side of the room and the girls on the other.

  They couldn’t talk while they were eating. Not even to say pass the beans or biscuits. Sister Corinne said the serving bowls were in easy reach, so Leatrice was supposed to keep quiet, dip what she wanted, and then listen to everybody chew. Chewing was extra loud when nobody was talking.

  Even after she finished eating and placed her knife and fork across her empty plate the way Sister Corinne said, she couldn’t talk. Not until she was out of that room. Even then she had to keep her voice low. No shouting. No screaming. No jumping. No kittens. No Papa.

  Leatrice had promised Papa she wouldn’t cry, but that first night when all the candles were out and the dark pushed down on her, tears leaked out and slid down her cheeks to dampen her pillow.

  If only Papa were sleeping on the floor by her bed the way he had the last few nights at home. With him there close enough to touch, that woman couldn’t bother her.

  Leatrice wasn’t afraid now. She felt safe enough in the room with four other girls and Sister Tansy who made sure they knelt by their beds to pray before they went to sleep and then got up and prayed again before they washed and dressed for school. Sister Tansy was nice. Almost as nice as Sister Faye had been when Leatrice had visited the village. A different kind of nice.

  Sister Tansy rubbed her back and sang to her that first night. No songs Leatrice knew. They were Shaker songs. Sister Tansy hugged her too, sort of like Mamaw Bea used to. Not exactly, of course, but close. She hugged all the girls, and when she smiled her teeth showed. Sister Corinne’s lips sometimes turned up, but she never showed any teeth. One of the other girls in the room, Sister Mona, said she probably didn’t have any teeth. Leatrice didn’t know if that was true, but Sister Corinne was really old. Even her hands were wrinkled.

  On her second day with the Shakers while Leatrice was lining up to go into the eating room, she saw the sister who promised to pray for Grandpa and then had been at the barn petting her horse. Leatrice forgot about the no-talking rules and ran over to her.

  “Sister Darcie.” She was glad she remembered her name. “You have two babies.”

  One baby face was peeping out of a wrap on the woman’s chest and another baby was in a little basket. They were so cute. Almost as cute as her kittens back home in the loft. She supposed she shouldn’t compare kittens and babies.

  The sister leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Shh. We can’t talk in here, but after we eat I’ll let you hold one of the babies if Sister Corinne gives you permission.”

  Sister Corinne’s name froze Leatrice in place. Even before the old sister rushed across the room to grip her shoulder, Leatrice knew she was in trouble. The woman didn’t speak out loud, but her frown said plenty as she glared at Sister Darcie and then Leatrice. Sister Darcie didn’t seem bothered by Sister Corinne’s hard look. Instead she smiled with a quick wink at Leatrice before she turned to find her place at the table.

  Sister Corinne held on to Leatrice’s shoulder and propelled her back in
line. After they ate, she pulled Leatrice aside to tell her she’d done a bad thing she should confess to Sister Tansy.

  Every night before they went to bed, they had to tell Sister Tansy what they’d done wrong that day. That night, Sister Janice, the oldest girl in the room at eleven and the one who smiled the most, went first.

  “I had a bad thought.” Sister Janice looked sorry about that, but she didn’t go on to say what she’d thought or why it was bad.

  Leatrice could confess having bad thoughts. She had plenty of them about that woman back at the farm.

  The sister named Mona stood up next. Even though she was a year younger than Sister Janice, she was almost as tall but so slim the apron she wore wrapped all the way around her waist. She kept her hands clasped behind her the same as Sister Janice had, except Mona crossed her fingers on both her hands.

  “Please forgive me. I didn’t straighten my covers when I got out of bed and I ran through the hens to make them squawk.”

  Leatrice sometimes crossed her fingers when she wished for something good to happen or when she was trying to stay out of trouble by skirting around the truth. Mamaw Bea always knew, but sometimes she slipped things past Papa. Sister Mona, with her sorrowful expression and crossed fingers, must be trying to slip something past Sister Tansy.

  When Sister Tansy nodded toward Leatrice to tell the things she’d done wrong, she stood up and put her hands behind her back the way the other girls had. She didn’t cross her fingers because she wasn’t wishing for anything or telling anything that wasn’t true.

  “I tore my dress when I climbed a fence. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to climb over the fences to take a shorter way to the privy. I talked in the room where we eat and are supposed to be quiet. I felt mad because I didn’t get to hold one of Sister Darcie’s babies.” She paused for a couple of seconds. “Did I say enough wrong things?”

  Sister Tansy put her hand over her mouth, but that didn’t hide the smile in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to confess a set number of wrongs, Sister Leatrice. It’s best to have no need to confess anything, for that would mean you had done nothing wrong.”