The Refuge

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “You should have wanted to take care of your brothers and sisters.”

  “Should have? I don’t deny that. Want to? I do deny that. I’d done it for five years. It was somebody else’s turn. So when Barton was through helping my father, he helped me. Gave me a hand up on his horse. We found a preacher and did everything legal like. I did love that man.” She shook her head a little with a faraway look on her face.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was too when I shot him. Like I said, I did love that man, but as good as he was when he wasn’t drinking was as bad as he was when he got hold of some home brew. Made him crazy. I hid from him when I could, but that day he came at me with an axe. I didn’t have much recourse except to shoot him.”

  Flynn didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

  “That surprised you, didn’t it? Or maybe not.” She looked over at him. “Anyway, I used to wonder if I could have just shot him in the leg, but I feared I’d miss. He was wild with the drink and ready to bash in my head with that axe. Wasn’t anything for it except to aim for the chest. He was dead before he hit the floor. I wasn’t even able to tell him I loved him, but I did cry enough tears to flood that room.” She breathed out a long sigh. “I was nineteen.”

  “I’m sorry.” And he was. But that didn’t excuse other things she’d done.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how come they didn’t hang me?” Her smile was back.

  “Sounded like self defense.”

  “I wasn’t about to trust a judge or bunch of men on a jury believing that. I was young but I wasn’t stupid. We didn’t have any near neighbors. Barton liked his solitude. So it took me a couple of days of hard digging, but I managed to give him a proper burying. Then I went to town and told the sheriff Barton had died of cholera. It was the right time of the year for it. Nobody was interested in digging him up to see if I told the truth. Turned out the sheriff had lost his wife the year before and was some lonesome. I lived with his sister for a few months until he deemed it proper for us to marry. I was glad enough he didn’t have any children to complicate matters. ’Course I never loved him. Not like I did Barton.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “You mean did I shoot him dead?” She laughed, then gave him a sly look. “Or maybe poison him?”

  “I assumed you were widowed again.” Flynn didn’t smile.

  “That I was. But in a natural enough way. The sheriff was old when I married him and lived a sight longer than I thought he would. Anyway, once he was gone, I decided I needed a change of scenery. I wasn’t as young as I used to be. I couldn’t depend on my looks forever.” She waved away a fly. “I hoped to find a man I could love something the way I did Barton. Thought maybe I’d found him when you came along.”

  “But you hadn’t.” Flynn kept his voice hard.

  “I had.” She waved her makeshift fan in front of her face a few times. “You just didn’t go along with the plan.”

  “So why did you marry Silas?”

  “I guess that ought to be easy enough to figure out. You.” She smiled over at him. “Silas didn’t seem long for this world with the way he was coughing and all. I figured I’d be here and one thing would lead to another. A lonely man. An attractive woman. Hasn’t worked out quite like I hoped. Guess my looks are already failing me.”

  “Your looks were never the problem.”

  “Oh, does that mean you do find me attractive?” She leaned toward him.

  “No. That means I could never even consider marrying a woman who wasn’t good to my daughter.”

  She sighed. “As I said, children do complicate matters. And now I’m stuck out here on this godforsaken farm married to an old man who worries I’m trying to poison him.”

  “Should he be worried? Should I be worried?” Flynn stared at her without blinking.

  “Could be. I’ve never had a great deal of patience. I could poison our stew and we could all die together. Tragic but romantic.”

  “You won’t do that.”

  “I won’t?” Irene fanned herself and then laughed again. “You’re right. I won’t. I’m not too happy with how life is going right now, but very little is permanent.”

  “Why don’t you leave?” Flynn pointed toward the road. “You’re not happy. Silas isn’t happy.”

  She slapped her hand on her chest in fake surprise. “But I’m a married woman. I promised till death do us part.”

  “Then try being a wife to Silas. He’s a good fellow.”

  “But so old. I used up some of the best years of my life with an old man. I don’t plan to spend the few good years I have left with another old man.”

  Flynn stood up and looked down at her. “Could be you shouldn’t have married him then.”

  “But he wanted me to so much. Thought I was just what you and that daughter of yours needed. He wasn’t thinking about himself at all. Well, except he was tired of eating his own cooking.” She smiled up at Flynn. “You have to admit I kept that part of the bargain. I’ve cooked for him. And nobody has died. Yet.”

  “Keep it that way.” He gave her a hard look before he turned to go off the porch.

  “You don’t have to keep sleeping in the barn. I won’t bother you unless you want to be bothered.” She jumped up to put her hands on his back.

  “I don’t mind the barn.” He stepped away from her.

  She laughed again. “Maybe you should join those old Shakers over there where you took your daughter. I think you’d fit right in.”

  “I might. If all women were like you.” He didn’t look back at her as he went down the steps.

  “So have you met one you like?” she called after him.

  He kept walking without answering her. Out of nowhere the Shaker sister, Darcie, with her two babies came to mind. She always had smiles for Leatrice. And for him. Without actually thinking about it, he had started timing his visits to Leatrice so that he could see those smiles. If that wasn’t the craziest thing. The first woman he’d really looked at since Lena died was a Shaker. The good Lord must have a sense of humor.

  Silas stepped up beside him when he got to the barn. “What did she want?”

  “To talk, she said.”

  “About what?” Silas looked out the barn toward the house.

  “Her hard times mostly.” Flynn picked up the pitchfork to clean out the stalls.

  “Yeah, she’s told me how things haven’t been easy for her.” Silas straightened a shovel hanging in the barn’s breezeway. “She’s right about one thing. I am too old. I shouldn’t have tied her to me.”

  “You didn’t force her to say ‘I do.’”

  “I know, but I didn’t aim to ruin her life. Or ours.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared down at the ground.

  “She could leave.” Flynn forked fresh bedding into one of the stalls.

  “I suggested that very thing to her the other day, but she says she hasn’t got anywhere to go. That she’s my wife and I promised to provide for her.” Silas pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I guess I did when I married her and I’ve always been a man of my word.”

  “That does muddy the waters.” Flynn straightened up and looked at Silas.

  “True, but I can clear things up by giving her that place you bought after we trade properties all legal like. Tell you what. How about I ride along with you tomorrow morning to go see Leatrice? Then we can head on into town to take care of the paperwork about the farms.”

  “I know you say that’s what you want to do, Silas, but I don’t feel right about such an uneven trade.”

  “We’re trading properties and I don’t want to hear one more word against it.” Silas stepped closer and poked his finger at Flynn’s chest. “It’s what I want. What Beatrice and Lena would expect of me.”

  “But what if I get married again?”

  Silas peered up at Flynn. “You got somebody in mind?”
>
  “Can’t say that I do, but I might someday. If I did, then whoever I married and her children would have a claim on your farm if you sign it over to me. That’s not what you want.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I think you finding a new woman would be a fine thing. Wouldn’t bother me at all. Leatrice could do with some sisters and brothers.”

  “Slow down.” Flynn held up his hand, palm out toward Silas. “I just wanted you to think about what could be. I’m not ready to stand up in front of a preacher with anybody.”

  “At least you’re doing some considering.” Silas grinned at him. “Maybe you ought to consider that little Shaker woman we see when we go visit Leatrice. The one with the babies. She’s a pretty little thing. Seems to have a real warm smile for you.”

  “She smiles just as warm at you and Leatrice.”

  “Maybe at Leatrice. But that’s to the good. She appears to be a fine mother to those babies too. My Beatrice was a loving mother like that. I was always sorry we never had more children for her to mother. Then she did get to mother Leatrice. Took up some of the slack from Lena.”

  Flynn frowned. “What do you mean? Lena loved Leatrice.”

  “I didn’t say she didn’t love her, but Beatrice was the one who mothered her. Lena didn’t have much patience for mothering. You remember that, don’t you?” Silas gave him a curious look. “Or maybe you were too busy with your horses to notice.”

  Flynn shut his eyes. He did remember. Ma Beatrice was the one who tucked Leatrice in at night and fed her breakfast in the mornings. “Maybe we should have moved out on our own.”

  “No need thinking about that. You can’t go back and do things over. Besides, Lena was so young when Leatrice was born that it could be she wasn’t ready to do all those mothering things. Being our only child, we’d spoiled her some. Well, maybe more than some. Who knows? If she hadn’t lost those other babies, she might have gotten more into a mother role. Or if she was still with us now.”

  “She would.” Flynn didn’t know why he felt the need to defend Lena. If anybody loved her as much as he did, it was Silas.

  Silas patted Flynn’s shoulder. “I wasn’t aiming to make you regretful. Leastways not about something like that. We were all happy with the way things were back then. Lena most of all. She got to go riding when she wanted and watch you with those horses. She did love the horses. And Beatrice loved mothering Leatrice. You know that.”

  He did know that. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Silas. I can never repay you.”

  “You already have a hundred times over.” Silas smiled. “So how about the two of us go over to that Shaker village early in the morning to see Leatrice and maybe that pretty little Shaker sister too? Then we can go on into town.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Leatrice will be happy to see you.”

  “I like going over there to see her.” Silas looked out the end of the barn toward the trees. “It’s the oddest thing, but I feel good when I go into that village. Everything seems to calm down inside me, like as how the Lord is telling me to quit worrying and just move along the path, whatever it is, that he opens up to me.” Silas looked back at Flynn. “Do you feel that way over there?”

  “Can’t say that I do.” Flynn shook his head a little. “I just aim to see Leatrice. That’s all. She told me last week that she was pretty good at reading now. I think she’s anxious to come on home.”

  “Home. That’s a fine word, but I’ve been wondering lately if home maybe has more to do with the people you love than with a place.” Silas looked out toward the trees again. “I haven’t felt at home since Beatrice died. She was what made this place home for me. That’s why it won’t matter when we switch places. Trust me. It’s the good Lord’s plan.”

  28

  Dark clouds blew in from the west on the night before Ellie’s son-in-law was to come for her. Booming thunder rattled the windows just after the evening meal. I was glad to be back from the Children’s House before the rain, but even inside, the storm’s noise so startled Benjamin, someone had to hold him.

  Sister Ellie insisted on staying with the babies while Sister Genna and I went to the evening worship practice. She had no reason to practice more of the dance exercises, since Shaker songs would soon be in her past.

  We would have rather stayed with her and the babies, but that was not allowed. Neither Sister Genna nor I had any interest in learning the dances or songs of Shaker life coming down to us. We were both ready to walk out of the village with Sister Ellie, had that been possible. But instead we went through the motions of counting our steps and weaving back and forth, being careful to maintain a proper distance from any of the brethren. The lightning flashed through the windows and lit up the intense faces of those like Sister Helene, who did yearn after the Shaker way.

  When the session was over, Eldress Maria followed us back to our retiring room to tell Sister Ellie the storm was a sign she was making a terrible mistake leaving the safe shelter of the village. When Sister Ellie refused to listen, the eldress declared she could no longer be called sister.

  Sister Ellie did not shy away from Eldress Maria’s words. Instead she handed Benjamin to Sister Genna and faced the eldress. “I am glad enough to be shed of the title Sister. Simply calling someone sister does not make it true.”

  “I fear trials will await you in the world.” Eldress Maria spoke softly, her voice sad. “You were a good Shaker.”

  “I appreciate your forbearance with me through the years,” Ellie said.

  “Such was merely my duty.” Eldress Maria’s shoulders slumped as she turned and left the room. I had never seen her look so old.

  That night we broke the Shaker rules and let our candle burn down while we talked long after the retiring bell rang. Now and again Sister Helene told us to extinguish the light, but when we did not, neither did she smother the flame. The last few days, she had talked to Ellie until her voice was hoarse to convince her not to leave, but eventually she joined Sister Genna and me as we cried with Ellie and prayed for her to have happiness as the dark hours ticked away.

  Abby did not agree to go with her.

  “But I did have the chance to tell her she would always be my daughter, and if ever the time came when she no longer was happy here at Harmony Hill, I would welcome her with open arms.” Ellie shed fewer tears than the rest of us when she said this. She had already faced the sorrow of leaving her child.

  “I am surprised Sister Corinne let you tell her that,” Sister Helene whispered.

  “She did tell Abby not to listen to one who was stepping out onto a wrong path toward destruction.” A smile slipped across Ellie’s face so quickly I wasn’t sure I had actually seen it. “Perhaps I am.”

  “Nay, my sister,” Sister Genna said. “You will have love and happiness and joy. And someday Abby will come to you.”

  Sister Helene looked at Sister Genna ready to argue, but Sister Genna held up her hand. “You have had your turn the last two days. Now it is time to give Sister Ellie our love, not our unhappy words.”

  “No longer our sister,” Sister Helene said sadly.

  Sister Genna took one of Ellie’s hands and I took the other. “Always our sister,” we said almost in unison.

  “And I yours.” Ellie looked over at Sister Helene. “And yours too, my sister. I do appreciate your concern, but I have been here for six years. Way past the time I should have become a covenanted member. I followed your rules, even those that seemed odd. I willingly gave my hands to work and my feet to dance, and long ago before I even knew about this village, I gave my heart to the Lord, but there is much about your ways here that I could never accept.”

  “If I cannot change your thinking, at least I can pray for you and assure you that you will be welcomed back if you decide to return,” Sister Helene said.

  Sister Genna started to speak, but Ellie squeezed her hand. “Nay, Sister. Remember your own words from a moment ago.
Let us not fuss on this last night together. I am happy to have Sister Helene’s prayers.”

  “I’m sorry our prayers for you and Abby weren’t answered,” Sister Genna said.

  “Not answered as we hoped, but yet answered.” Ellie smiled first at Sister Genna and then me. “Abby pulled away from Sister Corinne as they were leaving and came back to hug me and let me hug her. She even whispered ‘Goodbye, Mother’ in my ear. I will ever feel her in my arms and hear her sweet voice in my ear. That was our prayers answered and a gift I can take with me.”

  With daylight came the hard parting. The rising bell rang to signal time to be about our assigned chores. The storms had passed in the night, but the day was still gray with clouds. As was my routine, I had fed the babies before the rising bell. On this day, my three sisters were awake with me in these early morning hours. Ellie cuddled Anna Grace while Benjamin nursed and then held Benjamin while I fed Anna Grace.

  “I will miss these sweet babies and you, my sisters.” She put Benjamin down to embrace Sister Helene and then Sister Genna when they were dressed and ready to be about their duties.

  “No tears,” she told Sister Helene, but tears streamed down the sister’s face anyway as she turned and left.

  Ellie smiled then at Sister Genna. “I don’t have to tell you no tears. Not our tough and capable Sister Genna.”

  “I have no reason for tears,” Sister Genna said. “It’s more a day for joy. I’m glad you are leaving this place. I hope to do the same, and aren’t we both praying our Sister Darcie and Anna Grace will find a path out of here very soon?”

  “Prayers for you too.” Ellie held Sister Genna’s hands. “Your Jeremy will come back for you as he promised.”

  “It’s been so long since I’ve heard from him. He could be dead.”

  “Nay.” Ellie shook her head. “It will be a while before I can stop saying yea and nay. But I have faith your Jeremy is not dead, merely delayed longer than he expected. After all, anything is possible. Just think of my Abby calling me ‘Mother’ after I thought she’d forgotten my love.”