The Gifted

by Ann H. Gabhart

  When Tristan looked at Brady, he shrugged his shoulders a bit. “She likes my foolish stories of love. Many young women do.”

  “And do you take advantage of their admiration?”

  “Only in sales of my stories, my dear man,” Brady said with a slight laugh. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m old enough to be the father of most of my young fans.” He looked out to where the dancers were making a kaleidoscope of color as they whirled to the music.

  Tristan didn’t say anything as he looked back out at Green, now peering down at Laura and speaking intently. Perhaps making his proposal. If so, she gave no appearance of welcoming such.

  Beside him, Brady went on. “Isn’t it odd how people come to different conclusions? Here the young people whirl to the music to find romance while the Shakers dance to their own music in order to keep out romance. In the village I visited in the northeast, they whirled with fervor to stay spiritually pure and deny any sort of lustful thoughts. Is that how you found it?”

  “I saw them dancing. They did whirl and stomp with enthusiasm, and the sexes stayed apart.”

  “It takes much enthusiasm to banish man’s natural inclinations toward romance. Toward love.” The man sounded almost pensive as he continued to watch the dancers. After a few seconds he said, “And did the sister you met named Jessamine, the one I wonder might be my daughter, did she dance?”

  “She did.”

  The man turned his gaze toward Tristan. “With fervor?”

  Tristan smiled as he remembered the young woman. “I think perhaps Sister Jessamine does everything with fervor and enthusiasm.”

  “And belief in their ways?”

  “That I have no way to answer.”

  “Tell me again what she looked like. This Jessamine. Now, without Laura listening to water down your description.” He watched Tristan intently as he waited for his answer.

  “She was beautiful even in her plain dress and with the bonnet. Her eyes were striking, so blue one wondered if they could be true.”

  “Yes,” Brady murmured as if seeing those eyes. “What else?”

  “The blonde hair looked promising, but it was mostly hidden. But it wasn’t really the way her features and eyes looked so much as the light that radiated from her face. Like the world was waiting for her and she was eager to run to meet it.”

  “But the world is blocked from the Shaker villages,” Brady said.

  “So they told me. In fact the girl got into trouble for talking to me in one of the gardens.”

  “Trouble?” Brady raised his eyebrows at Tristan. “How so?”

  “I was told she would be watched to be sure she would not be tempted by things of the world as she was tempted when she spoke to me.” Tristan regretted yet again the ringing of the bell that had sent her flying away from him.

  “I have heard they take their rules very seriously.” A frown darkened Brady’s face.

  “The devout among them seemed very kind.” Tristan tried to reassure him. “If the sister they called Jessamine is your daughter, she won’t be ill treated.”

  “But in my eyes, it is ill treatment to withhold freedom of choice in love. In life.”

  “What are you going to do then? Will you go offer her that freedom?” Tristan asked. “If she turns out to be your daughter.”

  “How can I do less?” Brady said. “Whatever the price to my own freedom.”

  “Freedom can be difficult to hold onto,” Tristan said as the music of the dance ended.

  “So it can,” Brady agreed. “And it looks as if our friend Laura is desirous of gaining her freedom from Mr. Green. Shall you go rescue her or shall I?”

  “I think my name is on her dance card next, although dancing with this bent wing is awkward.” Tristan raised his broken arm up a little.

  “Would you like me to take your place?” The man sounded more than eager to do so.

  Tristan looked at him, a little surprised, and Brady added, “Laura is a lovely dancer, but it’s no doubt best for you to fulfill your spot on her dance card. Robert and your determined mother must be appeased, don’t you think?”

  As Tristan made his way across the room to claim his dance, he wondered if he was the only man in the ballroom not enchanted by Laura’s charms. It appeared as though even the writer was ready to be her champion.

  With a glower toward Tristan, Green surrendered his spot next to Laura, but before he turned away he sent a smiling appeal toward Laura. “I do hope you will seriously consider my words, dear Laura.”

  Laura kept her lips turned up but there was little smile in her eyes even after Tristan led her back out toward the dance floor when the band began again.

  “Another proposal?”

  She breathed out a sigh. “Young men are so trying.” Then as if she realized what she had said, she went on. “Oh, do forgive my honesty, Tristan. I meant no insult to you.”

  “I’m young. I’m a man, but I’m not Calvin Green.”

  “Thank the heavens.” Laura breathed out a slight sigh. “At least Father is sensible enough to know there are some available men I cannot abide.”

  “And could you abide me?” Tristan thought that surely had to be the very worst proposal any man had ever made.

  But it made Laura smile fully and completely as she looked up at him. “I think the two of us can come up with an amicable arrangement, Tristan.” She put her hand in his and then looked at his broken arm. “But I have to admit I don’t know how we are going to manage this dance.”

  “Neither do I,” Tristan admitted. “Sheldon Brady offered to stand in for me if you’d like.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Would you mind? Sheldon is a wonderful dancer and I did quite let my card be filled without saving him a dance.”

  She didn’t wait for Tristan to answer but looked straight toward Brady, who was still standing where he and Tristan had been talking. As if he knew what they were saying, he stepped through the other couples already moving to the music. Tristan gave over her hand to Brady and stepped off the dance floor. Laura was right. The man was a smooth dancer. The two moved past Tristan in perfect step.

  21

  Crashing thunder woke Jessamine Thursday before the rising bell rang. Other sisters stirred at the noise of the storm, and across from Jessamine, Sister Annie sat straight up in her bed. When a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed closely by another loud rumble of thunder, Sister Annie put her hands over her ears. Rain began dashing down and Jessamine jumped up to close the sleeping room window. After she glanced back to make sure Sister Edna was sleeping on undisturbed by the storm, Jessamine lingered at the window to watch the lightning run races across the sky.

  When she was very small, storms had frightened her. At every clap of thunder, she would scream, put her hands over her ears, and run to hide her face in her granny’s apron. Each time Granny would lead her over to peer out a window as Jessamine was doing now.

  She would let Jessamine scrunch up close to her while she talked with awe about the lightning flashes and thunder booms. “The might of nature by God’s design,” she had told Jessamine. “Think on the storm in the Bible out there on the Sea of Galilee that scared the disciples and had them thinking they were going to drown. And what was the Lord doing?”

  “Sleeping,” Jessamine answered with a peek out at the lightning streaking across the sky close to the horizon. “But I don’t see how.”

  “He knew who was in control. That’s why he wasn’t afraid. That’s why he could sleep. But because the disciples were afraid, he got up and in the Scriptures, it says he rebuked the winds and the wind ceased and there was a great calm.”

  “But it doesn’t say anything about the lightning,” she insisted.

  Her granny had hugged her close to her side and laughed a little. “A storm is a storm. And a person is going to be in a few while living her life. The thing to remember, my sweet Jessamine, is that the good Lord will be beside you through those storms. He’ll get you through.”


  Jessamine had known even then her granny wasn’t talking only about the lightning storms, but she was too young to understand about the storms of life that might be lying in wait for her. She simply trusted her granny to keep her safe.

  “You should get away from the window.” Sister Annie came up behind Jessamine to whisper in her ear. “It’s not safe.”

  “There’s nothing to fear. The lightning won’t come into the house.” She turned toward Sister Annie. Though it was surely almost dawn, the storm clouds were swallowing any beginning light of the day. Then the lightning flashed again, and it was easy to see the unease on her sister’s face.

  “My father knew a man struck by lightning once. Killed him on the spot.” Sister Annie stepped back as thunder rolled after the lightning. “That’s reason enough to fear.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but under roof I think we are safe.” Jessamine allowed the other sister to pull her back, but she kept her eyes on the window. It was dangerous. She knew that, but at the same time she wanted to be outside with the thunder in her ears and the rain dashing against her face. She wanted to challenge the storm. She wanted to be free.

  “You think.” Sister Annie’s hand on Jessamine’s arm was trembling. “It is better to know.”

  A flash of searing light filled the room as almost simultaneously thunder shook the windows. Sister Annie let out a little shriek and clutched Jessamine’s arms.

  The sister in the bed nearest them, Sister Bonnie, raised up to stare at them. “That was close,” she whispered.

  “But we are not touched. Go back to sleep.” Jessamine whispered back. “Our strong house and Mother Ann will protect us.”

  “Yea.” The sister yawned and sank back down on her pillow.

  Jessamine led Sister Annie back toward her bed. She was beginning to think she might have to peel the girl’s hands off her arms, but with the thunder rumbling away from them, Sister Annie turned loose when they reached her bed.

  She put her face close to Jessamine in the dark and said, “Does nothing frighten you, Sister Jessamine?”

  “I am not unafraid, Sister, but my wonder sometimes overpowers my fear.”

  “So it ever does,” Sister Annie muttered as she peered past Jessamine to see if Sister Edna was hearing them.

  With the retreat of the storm clouds and their eyes accustoming to the night, it was easy to see the shapes of the other sisters in the beds around them. A few had awakened but now were eager to pull sleep back over them before the bell rang to signal the beginning of their day. Sister Edna continued to snore in her sound sleep.

  “We should go back to sleep.” Jessamine turned away from her.

  “Wait.” Annie reached out to catch her arm before she could step away. “I saw Abigail go to your bed before she slipped away.”

  “She was telling me goodbye.”

  Sister Annie’s eyes flashed disbelief in the waning darkness. “Sisters don’t lie to one another.”

  “Forgive me, Sister. What I said was the truth, but not the complete truth. Sister Abigail did return to do more than bid me farewell. She asked me to rise and go with her.”

  “I thought as much. She wanted to pull you into her wickedness.”

  “I did not think her wicked.” Although Jessamine’s words made Sister Annie’s frown darken, she didn’t back away from her words. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to defend Abigail, but she did. “She was only unhappy here in our village. You haven’t been here as long as I have, but even so, you surely have seen yourself that many come to us who seem unable to set their feet firmly on our path and so leave for the world.”

  “Unable or unwilling? Sister Sophrena tells me the world is like a siren song to many.” She hesitated a moment as her hand tightened on Jessamine’s arm. “I am glad you didn’t go with her. I held my breath that night unsure what I should do or say if you rose up to follow her.”

  “If one is determined to leave, there is no stopping her. Now the dawn is coming. I would not want Sister Edna to catch us whispering thus when the rising bell begins to toll.”

  Sister Annie dropped her hand from Jessamine’s arm. “You will have to confess it. We both will.”

  “Yea, I have much to confess,” Jessamine said before she went back to her bed. She kept a wary eye on Sister Edna and felt a good measure of relief when the woman’s heavy breathing continued unabated. It was a gift to have one watching her who slept so heavily. It could be that on another night she might even be able to sneak out of the room to dare sit under the stars and allow their glitter to return some of the peace to her soul.

  What was wrong with wondering? Was the world so evil? She had lived the first years of her life in the world, albeit the world of the woods. Sister Annie would tell her that was not the real world, the world she knew from her father’s tavern. Jessamine let out a whisper of a sigh. She thought of her own father. The prince who loved her mother. Her mother and father had shared the kind of love the Believers said was so wrong.

  She had long wondered about such love between a man and a woman, but never before had her curiosity caused her discontent. Not until finding the stranger in the woods. He’d awakened feelings inside her that were nothing like the sisterly feelings she had for her brethren here in Harmony Hill. When he touched her face, her whole body had tingled down to her toes. She had wanted to reach her lips up to his. She had been ready, nay even eager, to embrace sin with no hesitation.

  She pushed away memory of their moments in the trees and in the garden. She needed to push him from her mind altogether. She could think about her father. There was no danger in that. Every person who was born had a father. Even the Christ, the Son of God who was born of the Holy Spirit, was given Joseph for a worldly father. Fathers held places of honor in the Scripture. She remembered Bible stories told her by Granny. Stories of the Jewish patriarchs. That was another name for fathers.

  Sister Sophrena said some of those stories revealed the stress and sin brought about by the individual family group. Brothers killing brothers. Brothers stealing from brothers. Even King David was betrayed by one of his own sons. Right living the Shaker way prevented such sin. Here there were no fathers and sons, mothers and daughters.

  Some could abide by the Shakers’ rules. Some could not. Jessamine wondered how she would feel if her father came into the village. Would she think of him differently than her other brothers? She would not know him even as well. She had no idea how he might look other than having the dark hair he mentioned in the letter. And that had been many years before. His hair could be graying now.

  She looked toward the window where the sun was near enough to the horizon that it was elbowing past the clouds to push back the darkness. She wished she had thought to push up the window before she lay back down. The sleeping room was stuffy with her nine other sisters breathing in and out. She tried to match her breaths with Sister Annie who had fallen back to sleep in the bed across from her. In and out. In and out. Easy breathing. Easy thinking. No wondering about things that she shouldn’t be wondering about.

  She thought of praying. Not for answers, but for peace. For the discontent to leave her so she could go back to being Sister Jessamine with a heart of love for her sisters and no reaching for a love that would divide her forever from her family of Believers.

  As she lay there waiting for the sound of the rising bell to release her from bed and allow her to so concentrate on working with her hands that she might be able to forget all else, a prayer did rise up inside her. A prayer with no words but that was filled with all the wonderings of her heart. She would lay it at the Lord’s feet. Whatever answer he sent her, she would embrace it with trust.

  The storms in the night left the gardens too wet for planting, but since the sun was shining now, she and Sister Edna were sent to the far edge of the pastures where the brethren had discovered the wild raspberries she and Sister Annie had been unable to find in the woods. Sister Edna was not happy with the duty and grumbled of how she wo
uld have been allowed to make bonnets or sew aprons if not for Jessamine.

  “Instead we are sent out here to work among the snakes and bees,” she complained as she reached to pull a berry from the vine. Two other sisters worked alongside them, but none near enough to hear Sister Edna.

  “I like picking berries.” Jessamine reached for a particularly plump berry and didn’t wince when her hand encountered the thorny stems. She turned away from Sister Edna and pretended to put the berry in her bucket but instead sneaked it into her mouth. Then she quickly picked three other berries to drop into her picking pail to make up for the one she ate.

  She could feel Sister Edna staring at her, suspecting her of wrongdoing, so she pretended great innocence as she turned back toward her.

  “You may be able to hide wrongdoing from me, Sister Jessamine, but be assured you cannot do so from Mother Ann,” Sister Edna said crossly as she swatted at a June bug.

  “June bugs won’t hurt you.” Jessamine reached out to capture the bug. It buzzed angrily in her hands, beating its green iridescent wings furiously to be free. She was careful not to hurt it as she opened her hands to let it fly away. Free. How would it feel to be so free? Her mind trailed after the bug as a story began to awaken in her mind. Why was it that she was always dreaming up stories about bugs and animals? Why not people? Why not her sisters? Why not a prince? Her grandmother’s stories had almost always had a prince.

  “You cannot fill your pail if you are playing with bugs, Sister Jessamine. I would not want to have to report to the Ministry that you were neglectful in your duty this day.”

  “Nay, I would not like that either. I will work with more diligence.”

  Jessamine began picking again. To shut away Sister Edna’s whining complaints, Jessamine thought of her father’s letter. She could shut her eyes and see his flowing handwriting. She could imagine his voice. While a baby, he had talked to her. He had held her close. That memory was stored somewhere in her heart, even if she couldn’t pull it forth.