Freedom's Light

by Colleen Coble

  CHAPTER 26

  Hannah blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes and pummeled the bread dough in front of her. The day was unseasonably warm for October, and the exertion left her hot and sticky. Charlotte, happily banging a tin plate and cup, sat at her feet. She was beginning to toddle and had become quite a handful, but she had filled Hannah’s days with purpose and delight. Hannah plopped the lump of dough into a bowl to rise and covered it with a damp cloth.

  After stirring the stew that bubbled over the fire, she washed her hands and knelt beside Charlotte. “Well, darling, shall we go to the beach for a while and look for seashells?” She touched her daughter’s dark curls lovingly.

  The baby lifted chubby arms. “Shells,” she said, excited, though it sounded more like “yells.”

  Hannah scooped her up and blew bubbles on her sweet-smelling neck. Charlotte giggled and squirmed, and Hannah kissed her plump cheek. “Mama loves her little angel.”

  “Mama.” Charlotte planted her small hands on Hannah’s cheeks and lifted her face for another kiss.

  A lump formed in Hannah’s throat, and she silently thanked God for this baby. How had she survived the loneliness before Charlotte’s arrival? Birch may have thought he saved the baby on his own, but Hannah knew God had caused him to pity the motherless mite. The Lord God had planned to give her a child of her own, and Birch was merely his instrument.

  The thought of Birch made her heart ache. Where was he now? Was he even still alive? Surely she would feel his death in her soul. She closed her eyes a moment and prayed for his safety and for God to speak to him. She sighed and took Charlotte to the beach.

  The sun beat down without mercy, and she squinted against the brilliant light shining off the water. She took off her mobcap, shoes, and socks, then removed Charlotte’s shoes and stockings as well. Taking the baby’s hands, she helped her walk in the soft sand.

  Her daughter squealed with delight at the wet sand on her feet. “Yells.” The baby jerked her hands from Hannah’s and knelt in the sand. Her chubby fingers dug in the sand and held up a small shell for her mother’s inspection. “Yell.”

  “Yes, angel, a shell.” While the baby played in the sand, Hannah threw a quilt out and sat on it, burrowing her feet in the sand. The gritty sand felt good. Gazing across the blue sea, she strained her eyes for the sight of a white sail. No ships out there right now. She imagined standing on the rocking deck of a ship with the wind in her hair while she watched an exotic port like Singapore grow nearer. She sighed and shook her head. Such a thing would never be.

  The afternoon shadows began to lengthen. Her dough would be ready to bake. Hannah shook the sand out of her quilt and rolled it up with her shoes and mobcap inside. She would retrieve them later. She carried it in one hand and scooped her daughter up in the other. Charlotte, sticky with wet sand, protested being removed from her favorite pastime. Hannah jiggled her and promised her a treat when they reached the house.

  As she came up the sloping path from the beach, she saw a cart carrying a man and a woman lurching along the track from the village. Shading her eyes, she tried to make out the faces, but the sun blinded her. Who would visit her? She hadn’t had any callers since Olive moved to Boston. Her mother-in-law had ignored her since she had refused Nathan and suffered a public whipping.

  They would reach the house before she did. She groaned. She would have no time to become more presentable. With no cap, her hair down, and her feet bare, they would think she looked like a fishwife. Trying to brush the worst of the sand from her skirt, she hurried to meet the visitors.

  The man’s back was to her as he helped the woman, heavy with child, from the wagon. The woman looked vaguely familiar. Then Hannah gasped. “Lydia!” She ran forward. Pregnant. Lydia was pregnant. But at least she lived.

  Lydia looked up, and she released a joyous smile. “Sister!”

  The man set her on the ground and turned. Birch. Hannah’s heart lurched and her steps slowed. Birch had found Lydia. He had not forgotten his promise to her. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced them back and quickened her pace again. Lydia opened her arms and stepped forward to greet her.

  The unfamiliar bulge under Lydia’s skirts felt strange as Hannah hugged her sister with one arm, the other occupied with Charlotte. Though her sister was plump around the middle, the rest of her was gaunt. It appeared that everything she’d eaten had gone for the baby.

  Hannah frowned. “I shall have to feed you, Lydia. You are much too thin.”

  She could sense Birch’s dark eyes on her, and she turned to greet him, then curtsied. “Captain.”

  “My daughter seems well.”

  My daughter. The words gave her a strange sensation, half pain, half joy. They would never share a child between them as long as he still carried that bitterness. And he carried it still. She could see it in the cynical twist of his lips. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “She is well and happy. As am I.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your back?”

  “Lydia told you?” She shook her head. “No matter. The skin is healed.” Though she would carry the scars for her lifetime.

  His hands clenched and unclenched. “I would avenge this travesty for you. Tell me who did this.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already forgotten.”

  The grimness around his mouth softened, and he shook his head. “I know not what to make of you, Hannah.”

  His eyes told her more than his words. Love for her still glowed in his pirate eyes. She wanted to rush into his arms, to feel his lips against hers again, but Hannah kept a tight rein on her emotions. She would continue to pray for him, though. God could reach him when she could not.

  She turned back to Lydia. The babe must be Galen’s. She would ask no questions yet. Lydia would tell all when they were alone. “’Tis almost supper time. Come bide at the table while I prepare your food.”

  Birch took Lydia’s arm and helped her to the house. Hannah was touched by his obvious concern for her sister. He was a good man, a kind man. Why couldn’t he give up his hatred? It ate at his soul and was the cause of the lonely expression hidden deep in his eyes. She could see his eagerness to hold Charlotte, to talk to the babe. She smiled secretly. He would soon find what a bright and lovable child she was. Mayhap her sweetness could reach him where Hannah had failed.

  Birch seated Lydia in a chair. She held up her arms for the baby. “Let me keep her while you prepare supper.”

  Hannah handed Charlotte to her and kissed the baby’s head. “She will get sand on you.”

  “I care not.” Lydia seemed delighted with the baby and sang to her. Hannah had forgotten what a sweet voice her sister had. Charlotte stared at her with wide eyes and reached up to touch a lock of golden hair.

  Hannah smiled and turned to find Birch’s eyes on her, not the pretty picture Lydia and Charlotte made. Her smile faltered. “The tide is coming in.” The intensity of his gaze took her breath away. The loneliness in his eyes touched her as nothing else could, but she could change nothing so long as he clung to his hatred.

  The parlor faced the water, and the sea blew its salty tang through the window. Birch took a deep breath of the briny air. “Ah, the smell of the sea. I shall stroll along the beach after supper. I have been away from it too long.”

  “You can see we just came from there. I must look a sight.”

  His gaze traveled from Hannah’s bare head to her toes just peeking under the soiled hem of her skirt. His lips twitched, then he gave up the fight to keep the smile from his face. “You look lovely. Like a mermaid.”

  “You have been away from the sea too long. It has addled your brain.” Still, his words gave her a warm glow. The softness in his eyes when he called her a mermaid told her how special that compliment truly was. “I would call you home, if I could.” She gazed into his eyes.

  “I have been away from you too long.”

  She stared into his sober eyes. The long moment hung between them like an actual touch. She tore
her gaze away. “I must prepare supper. You are both probably starved.”

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  Part of her longed to get away from his probing gaze while another part wanted him in sight at all times. She gave up the struggle. “You could cut the bread while I ladle up the stew.” He followed her into the kitchen. “Smells good, especially after eating my own poor attempts for the past few weeks. Lydia was in no shape to do any cooking after traveling hard every day.”

  Hannah washed her hands and began to ladle the stew. She put the bowls on the table and turned to face Birch. “How did you come to find her? Where is Galen? The babe is Galen’s, is it not?”

  He nodded. “The scoundrel tossed her out when he found out she was breeding. I found her in Washington’s camp masquerading as a peddler.”

  Hannah put a hand to her throat. “She-she was spying?” She felt as though she couldn’t breathe. How could Lydia do such a thing? The dangers to which she had subjected herself and the unborn babe were too horrifying to contemplate.

  Birch looked away. “Aye. At least she wasn’t selling herself. There were others there who were.”

  That much was a comfort, but still Hannah clenched her fists. She wanted to march to the parlor and demand an explanation from Lydia for her behavior, but it would do no good. Lydia had never seen her actions as traitorous to her country. She would not begin now just because her sister chastised her.

  Hannah stared at Birch. “What were you doing in Washington’s camp? Were you spying as well?” She narrowed her eyes.

  She saw his hesitation, the way he looked away from her probing gaze, and her heart sank. She didn’t wait for him to admit it. “You were spying.” She gripped the back of the chair and sat down. Somehow this seemed worse than the fact he was a Tory, a loyalist.

  “And if I was? Would that change your feelings for me?”

  Did it? She examined her heart and discovered it changed nothing. She was helpless to stamp out this love she carried for him. She swallowed hard. “No.” If she could, she would tear this love from her heart, but it was as though he were part of her.

  His dark eyes glowed, and he moved toward her. “There is something I must tell you. I am not what I seem.”

  She stared at him in puzzlement. “You are not a ship’s captain?”

  He grinned. “Yes, that I am, but not for the British. I serve General Washington as he sees fit to use me. I had wanted to tell you so many times, but I had to hold my tongue to protect my cover.”

  “Y-you’re not a Tory?” Her spirits lifted at this wondrous news.

  He stroked her cheek. “Can you forgive me for deceiving you?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. You were simply doing your duty.” She laid her own hand over his and pressed her cheek against his palm. “Have you always been a rebel?”

  “Always. It was British soldiers who killed Charlie.” His black eyes grew even blacker, if possible. “The British must pay for that.”

  Mouth gaping, Lydia appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with Charlotte in her arms. “You are not a Tory?” she shrieked. “You’ve lied to us all this time?”

  Hannah snatched the baby from her sister. “This does not concern you, Lydia. I realize it is distressing to you, but I rejoice in this news.”

  “You would!” Lydia spat out. “I gave him important information to deliver to the British. You didn’t deliver it, did you?”

  Birch shook his head. “No, Lydia.”

  She bit her lip and looked as though she would say more, but her shoulders sagged. “Then all my work was for naught,” she whispered.

  Hannah rose to her feet. “Sit at the table. ’Tis almost ready.” She ladled three more bowls of stew and placed them on the table. Putting Charlotte in her chair, Hannah took a cloth and washed the baby’s grubby fingers, then sat beside her.

  “I should like to say grace,” she said. Lydia still seemed stunned from the news that Birch was not her ally, but she and Birch bowed their heads. Hannah closed her eyes. “Oh, Lord God, thank you so much for bringing Lydia and Birch safely here this day. We praise you for your protection and care. Bless now this food and bring us all into your kingdom. Amen.”

  “’Men,” Charlotte echoed.

  Birch laughed at the baby’s imitation. “Methinks she has heard her mama pray before.” Hannah flushed. “We pray in the morning when we get up, at meals, and at bedtime. I am determined that my daughter know the true ways of God, that he is loving and merciful and sees to our needs if we but ask.”

  Lydia folded her arms over her chest, anger brewing on her face. “If that is true, why am I here without Galen? I need him as a husband and father to this babe.”

  Hannah’s heart broke at the willfulness in Lydia’s voice. Her sister still did not see that her own actions had brought about her downfall. “He sees to our needs, Lydia, not always our wants. We need to seek his will. Did you seek his will before you pursued Galen? I think not.”

  Lydia glared at her. “I should have known you would still persist in your hatred of Galen.” She got up from the table and took her bowl of stew. “I shall eat in my room. Away from the likes of you!” She stalked from the kitchen.

  Hannah sighed. “I did not mean to appear judgmental. Lydia has never seen anything as her own fault.”

  Birch’s dark eyes probed her face. “And what of those like my brother who are hurt through no fault of their own? Where is God in that?”

  What could she say? How could she reach him? “I cannot claim to know the unsearchable ways of God, Birch. We see through a glass darkly, but God sees the entire picture. He works in ways we cannot see or comprehend. I want to show you something.” She went to the parlor and carried her needlework back to the table.

  Holding it upside down with all the colors and strings of thread crisscrossing the backside of the material, she held it out to him. “Can you tell me what this portrays?”

  He took it and stared at it, then shook his head. “No, ’tis too jumbled together.”

  “Turn it over now.”

  He flipped it over to reveal a garden scene she had almost completed. “Lovely.”

  “Sometimes our lives look like the backside of that tapestry, all mixed up with no sense or pattern. But ’tis only the part we see, Birch. God sees the other side and is molding us to fit the picture he has in mind.”

  He was silent a moment. “I see no reason for Charlie’s death. Are you saying God had a reason, a purpose?”

  Hannah sighed. “He always has a purpose for us. The Bible also says, ‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.’ Charlie was a believer, you told me. Have you stopped to think about the fact that he is with the Lord now?”

  Birch frowned. “But the pain and terror he went through first was a terrible thing. Why can you not understand that? I saw his body!”

  Hannah pressed his hand between hers. He stood and pulled away from her, then stared out the window. Hannah stepped behind him and touched his back. “What happened to Charlie was horrific. But it would be even worse if you let it mold you into the wrong kind of man, a man filled with bitterness and hatred. Charlie would not want that.”

  She had to make him understand. “Your error is that you think this world is the reality. In truth, eternity is the reality and this life is but a shadow, a place to develop our character and grow more like Jesus.”

  He spun around, his dark eyes full of suffering. “You say this world is but a dream, a chimera? Then it should not matter if we marry or not, if we love or not.” He took her in his arms, and his black eyes probed hers. “Can you say that this doesn’t matter?”

  He bent his head, and his lips claimed hers. Wild elation billowed through Hannah, and she clung to him as her only stability in a storm-tossed sea. He pulled her close, and she was lost in a tide of love and longing as vast as the ocean she dimly heard crashing on the shore. When he raised his head, she felt bereft.

  She opened her eyes and took a
deep breath. “I cannot deny the love I bear for you, Birch. But some things are more important than love. Your soul is more important.”

  “You can save me, Hannah. Tell me you will marry me, and I will not seek Montgomery’s death.” He gripped her shoulders. “Tell me!”

  Shuddering, she pulled away from his grip. He still didn’t understand. “I cannot save you, my love. You must look to Jesus for that.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The surf pounding on the shore soothed Birch’s battered feelings. Why did she torment him? He clamped his hands to the sides of his head. He couldn’t get her words out of his thoughts. “I cannot save you, my love. You must look to Jesus for that.” He wanted nothing more to do with Jesus. He had seen his brother follow God with his whole heart, but God had betrayed his love and trust.

  He shouted into the wind and surf, “Leave me alone, God!” Then he stormed back to the house. He would just get his things and go. Maybe away from her gentle eyes, he could forget the storm in his soul.

  The house was dark when he let himself back in. He picked up his haversack and walked out into the hall. Charlotte’s door was open, so he stepped into the room. She lay on her stomach, one chubby leg out of the covers, her thumb corked in her mouth. He leaned over the crib railing and covered her up. Touching her soft curls, he smiled at the thought that he had done at least one good thing in his life.

  He slipped down the hall and stopped outside Hannah’s room. Torn between saying good-bye or simply leaving, he stood with his hand on the doorknob. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t trust himself in her bedroom. When she found him gone, she would understand.

  The steps creaked under his weight as he slipped downstairs to the parlor. A shadow moved by the window, and he startled.

  “Birch?” Lydia’s voice was fretful. “What are you doing?”

  He walked toward her. “Why are you awake? You went to bed hours ago.”

  She sighed. “You only thought I did. I sat on the steps and listened to Hannah lecture you first. Now I cannot get her words out of my head. Why does she blame me? I heard her say I never see anything as my fault. I only did what Galen wanted. How could it be my fault that he left me with a babe on the way?”