by Jan Drexler
Dulcey stood at the kitchen door, smiling at Elizabeth.
“I would like that very much.” She smiled back at the woman she hoped would be a good friend and companion.
“Take your time and visit all you want. After I look through the papers you brought, I have some work to do in the barn, so I won’t disturb you.”
Elizabeth followed Dulcey through the swinging door into the kitchen.
“It will just take a minute to fix your lunch, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Just call me Elizabeth, please. And I’ll call you Dulcey. If we’re going to be friends, then we shouldn’t let formalities stand in the way.”
“No, Miss.”
Elizabeth gave up. “I can fix my own lunch if you tell me where things are.”
“Oh, no, Miss. I can’t do that. You set yourself down and I’ll do it.” She hesitated. “And I’ll fix enough for the two of us so we can eat together?”
“For sure we should eat together. How can we visit if we don’t?”
Dulcey worked quickly, slicing some cold chicken and arranging it on two plates with a dish made from peas with a creamy sauce. She also put a plate of sliced bread on the table and two glasses of water. Then Elizabeth bowed her head for her usual silent prayer, but Dulcey prayed aloud.
“Dear Father, Lord of all of us. Hear our prayer of thanksgiving for this meal you done given us, and for the life you done given us, and all. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Then Dulcey started eating, not looking at Elizabeth once. Solomon had said they should visit, but Dulcey looked so nervous that Elizabeth didn’t know how to start.
Finally, she asked, “How did you come to start working for Solomon?”
Dulcey looked startled, then glanced at the door before she answered. “Masta Solomon found me working in . . . in Millersburg. I wasn’t happy in that place, so he offered me this job.”
“Do you enjoy working for him?”
“Oh, yes, Miss. Masta Solomon is a fine man. Always treats me well.” Dulcey’s hands shook as she took some of the peas on her fork. “And you? Masta Solomon says you is widowed?”
“Yes, I am. My husband was killed in the war.”
Tears welled in Dulcey’s eyes and she rose from the table. She walked over to the swinging door but didn’t open it. She stood as if she was listening. When she came back, she took Elizabeth’s hands in her own and leaned close to her.
“You are a nice woman, Elizabeth.”
Dulcey’s voice was a whisper so low that Elizabeth had to lean closer to hear her.
“So are you. I know we’ll be good friends.”
Dulcey shook her head emphatically. “No, Miss. No. You need to go away from here. Don’t ever come back. Masta Solomon, he ain’t the kind of man you think he is.”
Elizabeth looked into the young woman’s eyes. They were filled with tears.
“I trust Solomon. He’s never given me any reason not to.”
“You listen to me. I was married, but I lost my man during the war. He may be dead, he may have just run off. But after emancipation, I had nowhere to go. You understand? Nowhere. I had to eat. I went from place to place, following that North Star to the land of promise I heard tell of all my life, but when I got across the river, nothing was different than in the South. Freedom don’t fill no stomachs. I found a job in a terrible place, but I didn’t starve. I did what I had to in order to survive.”
Pulling her lip between her teeth, Elizabeth stood on the brink of that whirlpool spiraling downward, leading to that dark pit. She knew. Oh, she knew what a woman would do when she had no other choice.
“I understand.” She turned Dulcey’s hands in her own and squeezed them gently. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Dulcey’s smile was grim. “Masta Solomon, he found me there. Said he had work for me if I would take it. He don’t pay me like he said he would, and he beats me some, but I eat and I got a dry place to sleep.” A tear escaped from one eye and rolled down her cheek. “But I can’t do what he wants me to do now.”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. The Solomon Dulcey described couldn’t be the man she knew . . . or thought she knew. He would never beat a woman, would he?
“What does he want you to do?”
“He wants me to find out things about you to use against you. He wants you to tell me things you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”
“Why?”
A thump sounded from beyond the kitchen wall. Dulcey jumped in her seat, her eyes wide.
“I daren’t say, Miss. Just tell me something, please.” Her voice had dropped to a soft whisper again. “Just tell me something he don’t know.”
Elizabeth’s mind raced. Dulcey was frightened of Solomon, that was clear, but Solomon wasn’t as threatening as Dulcey seemed to think. Elizabeth knew him well enough to know that. Solomon was nothing like Reuben had been. The poor woman must have been badly mistreated by her master when she was a slave and expected that same treatment from Solomon, but what could she do to help?
Suddenly, the words of Gideon’s sermon came into her mind. “God has provided the way for you to be free of your sin.”
She smiled, thinking she finally knew what Gideon had meant.
“Dulcey, God will help you and me. He will set us free.”
She would be free from the memory of those sins that beset her by exposing them. She wouldn’t hide Reuben’s sins from the world anymore. She swallowed, hesitating. What would the other church members think of her if they heard?
But if she never told the secret, how would she ever gain her freedom from Reuben’s hold over her?
“Tell Solomon that my husband caused our child to die before it was born because he thought he couldn’t be its father.”
Dulcey gripped her hands even harder. “Oh, my Lord, oh no.”
“Reuben was a cruel man and a drunkard.” Elizabeth could no longer see Dulcey’s face because of the tears in her eyes, but she clung to the other woman’s hands. “I’ve never told anyone this, Dulcey. It’s a secret I thought I would take to my grave, but Reuben doesn’t deserve for me to protect him anymore. You can tell Solomon that. If he thinks he can use it against me somehow, then let him.”
“That is a terrible thing to keep hidden. It’s the kind of thing that eats at your soul.”
Elizabeth shuddered. Dulcey had described it exactly. Her soul had been eaten away, but no more.
“Do you think the Lord will help you now?” Dulcey’s tone was that of a woman clinging to a slim thread of hope. “After all you been through, do you think he’ll help you find peace?”
Elizabeth blinked away the tears and looked into Dulcey’s face. “I’m certain he will. And he will help you too.” What had Gideon said? “Turn to Jesus, Dulcey. He’s the only one who can help us.”
12
After months—years—of trying to walk through hidden, muddy trails, Aaron finally felt like his life was back on course. Talking to Casper on Monday had shown him that the Zooks didn’t think of him as an unwanted tagalong cousin but saw him as part of the family. As they had continued working day after day on the order for the harness, Casper had talked about where they could build Aaron’s house, and where his forty acres would be. Dan and Ephraim had purchased a one-hundred-sixty-acre quarter section when they came to Ohio, but Casper didn’t want to farm anymore. The harness making work was enough for him, so he was glad to pass on his forty acres to Aaron. Eating with the family during the noon meals, he felt a sense of belonging he had never experienced before.
In the days since then, his path had been clear. He grinned as he fed grain to the horses in Abraham’s barn on Saturday morning. Nothing was better for a man than knowing what he wanted out of life and how to achieve it.
Suddenly a forkful of hay fell out of the haymow and onto his head.
“Watch what you’re doing!” He pulled his hat off and brushed bits of hay from the brim, his shoulders, down his front. He looked up to see Jonas’s head through the opening.
“I didn’t know you were there.” Another forkful of hay dropped into the manger. “You need to make some noise while you work.”
Finished with the hay, Jonas came down the ladder.
“You knew I was graining the horses,” Aaron said, tossing some chaff in his friend’s direction.
“But you usually whistle or something. Why are you so quiet this morning?”
Aaron put his hat back on and rolled his shoulders to try to dislodge the hayseeds and chaff stuck to his back. All thought of horseplay had disappeared with Jonas’s question.
“What would you say if I stayed around Weaver’s Creek?”
Jonas leaned his pitchfork against the horse stall. “You mean you’ve changed your mind? You don’t want to go west anymore?”
He paused, sifting through the empty promises his plans had held. “I’m not sure if I ever really wanted to. During the war, it seemed to be the only way I could start my life over.”
“I think that is wonderful.” Jonas’s grin was sincere. “We’d love to have you stay here. There’s plenty of room.”
Aaron looked at the floor. “That isn’t the plan. The Zooks have offered me a place on their farm and as a harness maker. I’m learning a lot from Casper.”
“A home?”
A sweet thrill ran through him at those words. He hoped it would never feel too familiar. “A home. A house, a trade, a family.” His throat squeezed at that last word. He had lost the only family he knew and now God was healing that broken place.
Jonas laughed with delight and slapped Aaron’s back. “The next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re going to become Amish.”
Grinning, Aaron returned Jonas’s gesture. “I start meeting with Gideon for membership instruction next week.”
Jonas turned serious. “Do you mean it?” He gazed into Aaron’s face. “You do mean it! We’ll become members at the same time, then. The ministers said I can start my membership instruction as soon as it can be arranged.” He returned the pitchfork to its place on the wall and took down the mucking rake. “The only thing left for you is to find a wife.”
As Jonas went into the back of the barn to start cleaning the cow’s pen, Aaron walked to the doorway of the barn, the same place he had stood on the day Ezra wandered into the bull’s pasture. The same feeling overwhelmed him, but this time coupled with a certainty that he would find his dream. Somewhere, there would be a woman who could overlook his missing leg.
He ran his hand under his shirt collar, brushing out particles of hay. None of the women he had known before he was wounded would have done that, though. The thought of one of those—he shook his head at the man he had been—one of those saloon girls living here in this peaceful setting was impossible. No, whoever he married would have to be a special woman. One who could see beyond the man he used to be, beyond his wounded exterior, to the man he was becoming.
Movement on the road caught his attention. It was Elizabeth, walking across the bridge toward the house. On her way to see her family. He watched her sure gait, her slim figure looking barely larger than a child’s at this distance. He didn’t have to be close to see the warmth in her eyes and the way those crinkles appeared around them when she laughed. But she was vulnerable. If only she would listen to him. If only she would let him . . . An ache started in his chest and spread to his shoulders, his arms, down to his fingers, causing him to clench his fists. He wanted to protect her, but she had turned her back on him, setting her cap for Solomon Mast. He couldn’t think of marrying a woman whose dreams were so different from his. Just like the other women he had known, what a man appeared to be on the outside was the only thing that mattered to her.
He grabbed the other mucking fork from the wall and entered the nearest box stall. He couldn’t change her and couldn’t change the past. But—
Pausing, his load of soiled straw midway to the wheelbarrow, the truth hit him with the sifting thoroughness of a forkful of hay, filling every pore of his being. He loved her. He loved Elizabeth. He loved that exasperating, stubborn, willful, beautiful woman. Dumping the load into the wheelbarrow, Aaron let that knowledge take hold.
But what could he do? He couldn’t force Elizabeth to love him. She had her sights set on someone else. With gritted teeth, he thrust the fork in the horse’s bedding once more and tossed a load into the wheelbarrow.
Her love would be a precious thing to earn, but Solomon—Simon Miller—would only use her and throw her away. Somehow, he had to find evidence to prove what he knew was true and convince her to trust him.
And if Simon Miller acted first, before Aaron could prove who he really was?
Aaron leaned on the fork and wiped his sweating brow. He would need to stick close to Elizabeth so he would be there to protect her. She might resent him. She might even refuse to let him near her. But at least she would be safe.
By Saturday, Elizabeth no longer cared who knew about the terrible secret she had held close for so long. As she walked to Mamm’s house, an elusive breath of joy blew through her. She wasn’t looking for pity, although that would be the reaction of some of the women. She refused to speculate what Salome’s opinion would be. The most important thing was to tell Mamm before any hint of a rumor reached her. Then, if Solomon decided to use her secret against her, at least he wouldn’t take Mamm by surprise.
Mamm was in the kitchen pulling fresh loaves of bread from the oven. Elizabeth took in a deep breath of the homey aroma. She had known Mamm would be baking this morning, just as she did every Saturday.
“I need to put the pies in the oven next,” Mamm said as Elizabeth came in the kitchen door, “and then we’ll sit down together for a chat.”
Elizabeth pumped water into the big cast-iron teakettle and set it on the hottest part of the stove. While it was heating up, she took the jar of tea from the cupboard.
“What brings you by this morning?” Mamm put the last pie in the oven and sat at the table.
“I have something to tell you.” Elizabeth got two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the table with the teapot.
Mamm smiled. “It must be good news. I haven’t seen you look this content for a long time.”
“It isn’t good news. It’s something I should have told you a long time ago.”
Elizabeth joined Mamm at the table. It would be several minutes before the water was hot enough to brew the tea.
“So, it isn’t something about Solomon?”
“It’s about Reuben.”
Now that the time had come, Elizabeth wasn’t certain how to begin. Mamm sighed as if she was preparing herself.
Elizabeth put her hands on the table, lacing her fingers together. She concentrated on the way each finger curved around the one next to it. “Several years ago, I found out I was expecting a baby.”
“Ach, Elizabeth. You never told me.”
“I . . . I couldn’t. I knew Reuben should be the first to know.” She looked at her mother. “Isn’t that right?”
Mamm nodded. “For sure. Your husband should have been the one to hear the news before anyone else.”
“But when I told him—” Elizabeth bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes. “When I told him, he didn’t believe me. And then he accused me—” She took a deep breath, willing her voice to remain steady until she had told the whole story. “He believed that he couldn’t be the child’s father. That someone else must have . . .”
She swallowed. No more words would come. The teakettle started grumbling and Mamm rose to pour the hot water into the teapot to brew.
“So, Reuben didn’t believe he was the father of your baby?” Mamm took Elizabeth’s hands as she sat at the table again.
“He caused my baby to miscarry.” The words rushed out. “I couldn’t tell you. I was too ashamed and too scared.”
“When you were married to him, I was afraid that he might have mistreated you. I felt like we had lost you and we didn’t know what to do. How to reach out to you. But it sounds like your life wa
s much harder than we imagined.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I could have come to you at any time . . . but I told myself that you wouldn’t want me since I had turned my back on you and the family.” Mamm started shaking her head and Elizabeth went on. “I know that isn’t true. I should have come home as soon as I knew the terrible mistake I had made. But I didn’t, and my baby paid for it with his life.”
Mamm was silent as the clock in the front room ticked away the minutes. Finally, she spoke. “You can’t blame yourself for what Reuben did. If he were still alive, I would have a hard time forgiving him for how he treated you and your child. But why are you telling me this now?”
“Because someone else knows about it.” Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “I decided that I wasn’t protecting anyone but Reuben by keeping that secret, but by burying it, I was reliving that horrible time over and over again. I wanted to be free.”
“The truth shall set you free,” Mamm said, a faint smile on her trembling lips.
Uneven footsteps on the back porch told Elizabeth that Aaron was on his way in. She wiped any remaining tears with the edge of her apron and Mamm rose quickly and opened the oven to check on the pies. Aaron paused in the doorway.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” he said as he stood with one hand on the doorknob. “I just came in for the pail of slops for the pigs.”
Elizabeth forced a smile as he went to the sink and lifted the pail from its spot underneath. He turned to go out again, then paused, looking at her.
“Is everything all right?”
“For sure it is.” Elizabeth fought to keep her smile steady. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He glanced at Mamm, standing at the stove with her back to them, then at the still-empty mugs, then at Elizabeth again.
“No reason.” He shifted the pail in his hand. “But if there is something wrong, I listen pretty well.”
No man had ever wanted to listen to her problems, not since she was a little girl and Datt would take her on his lap. Aaron’s offer tapped gently on a closed place in her heart.
“I’ll remember that,” she said.
