As the morning passed, she let those words, those imagined memories, circle in her mind and managed to barely be aware of Sister Edna beside her. She didn’t ignore her. She was careful to nod or murmur a yea whenever it seemed appropriate. She cared not what she might be agreeing to. As long as Sister Edna seemed satisfied. As long as she didn’t report to the Ministry that Jessamine was not cooperating. As long as Jessamine could believe the constant supervision might soon be lifted.
By the time they heard the bell calling them in to the midday meal, Jessamine’s skirt tail was damp, her hands scratched by many briars, and her fingers stained purple from the berries. But her pail was full and Sister Edna’s was not. She wanted to ask who was being neglectful in attending to her duties, but she wisely bit her lip and remained silent. She had been constantly with Sister Edna for four and one half days and it seemed more like four and one half weeks.
But whether it was for days or weeks, what could she do but submit to the Ministry’s orders? She knew nothing about what lay outside the village borders except the evil Sister Sophrena said lurked there. And in truth, while the stranger in the woods had not seemed evil, evil had been done to him. There was the gunfire that had so frightened Sister Annie. There was the very real path of a bullet through the man’s hair.
Plus Sister Edna would say the man lying to the good doctor and claiming a fake name showed he was on familiar terms with the wickedness of the world. Lying was wrong. Jessamine couldn’t deny that. But perhaps he’d had a reason for his untruth. What that could be, she could not imagine as she followed Sister Edna to their eating table. She kept her eyes on her plate and away from Sister Edna as she ate the thick stew and biscuits. The woman seemed to divine when Jessamine was allowing her thoughts to stray into imaginings that were not proper Believers’ thoughts. Any thought of Tristan Cooper should be denied. He was the reason she was burdened with Sister Edna’s constant companionship.
Nay, if she were honest, it was not he who was the reason, but she herself. Her own tumble from discipline and obedience. He had not sought her out. She had sought him. Enticed by her own wonderings about things she should have closed from her mind.
Sister Edna began complaining as soon as they went out the front door of the Gathering Family House and kept on with her harping all the way down the steps as if the complaints had piled up during the time of silence while they ate and now of necessity must come tumbling out.
“You know there are snakes down under those briars. Perhaps even copperheads. The brothers have seen such snakes in the woods toward the river. And the vines are so thick one can never reach the best berries. You can be assured we will be carrying home ticks and chiggers. No amount of raspberry jam is worth such. Ruining our dresses and aprons and all.”
She looked over at Jessamine and went on. “Just look at your sleeves. You’ve caught them on the briars and pulled holes in them. You really should be more careful, Sister Jessamine. None of the rest of us have torn our sleeves.”
“The tear is small,” Jessamine said. “I will mend it myself during the quiet time before practice of our songs this evening.”
“Nay, Sister. You will need every moment to meditate on your wrong actions then in order to move your spirit closer to the perfect way. Not do mending.”
“I’ve seen Sister Sophrena mend during that time of rest,” Jessamine insisted.
“But our good Sister Sophrena does not have the wrong attitudes and behavior to repent of that you do.”
“Yea, it is as you say.” Jessamine ducked her head.
“It is good that you recognize that truth. You have much to learn, my sister, and I am up to the task of seeing that you learn such.”
Jessamine managed to keep her sigh inside. But she was much relieved when she heard Sister Sophrena call her name and hurry after them down the path with purpose.
“Wait up, Sister Edna. I have need to speak to Sister Jessamine.” When she reached them, Sister Sophrena put her hands on her chest to catch her breath.
“What can be of such import that you must chase after us?” Sister Edna asked with a slight frown. “What has our sister done now to cause alarm?”
“Nay, nay, there have been no wrongs done.” Sister Sophrena was still panting a bit as her eyes shifted from Sister Edna to Jessamine. She suddenly looked worried. “Eldress Frieda asked me to find you, Sister Jessamine. She says you have a visitor.”
“From the world?” Jessamine did not try to hide her surprise. “But I know no one from the world other than the man I found in the woods. Tristan Cooper.”
Sister Edna stared at Jessamine. “You should not even speak his name much less think the Ministry would allow him to visit after the lies he told.”
“I agree, Sister Edna, so I am sure that it is not he,” Sister Sophrena said. “But I do not know who it might be. All I know is that Eldress Frieda has summoned you and so you must go. If you do not want to see whoever awaits you at the Trustee’s House, you can tell her and she will send your visitor away. You have that freedom, my sister.”
Freedom. The word sounded strange to her ears with her wish for it all through the week while tied to Sister Edna. She had felt no breath of freedom.
“Come.” Sister Sophrena held out her hand toward Jessamine. “The berries will wait.”
Eldress Frieda was waiting for them inside the door at the Trustee’s House. She wore the same worried frown that had settled on Sister Sophrena’s face as they walked back through the village to meet her. Behind her the twin staircases rose up toward the upper floors with a graceful beauty that usually made Jessamine want to run up their winding steps with the feeling of climbing on air. But now she barely glanced at them. She had no curiosity about anything but the visitor who awaited her. If not Tristan Cooper, who? The prince who loved her mother? The father from her letter? Had she thought so intensely about his words that she had somehow been able to draw him across space and time to her?
Eldress Frieda looked from Sister Sophrena to Jessamine. “Did Sister Sophrena tell you that you do not have to see the visitor? There is upset enough in your way right now. You might be wise not to open yourself up to more disconcert.”
“Yea, Eldress, you may be right, but my wondering would be so great about who seeks me here and why, that I would have no peace. If you thought I should not meet with whomever awaits, you should not have called me.” She had to restrain her desire to peek past the eldress toward the room that opened off the hallway where a visitor might wait.
“Nay, my sister. We are apart from the world, but we do not prohibit visitors if they demonstrate no ill intent for our brethren or sisters. We are free by choice here.”
Jessamine felt the eyes of the three sisters on her. Sister Edna would be looking with condemnation, but Sister Sophrena and Eldress Frieda would be looking with loving concern. Even so, she knew only one choice. If she was free to make it, she would. “I will see my visitor.”
Eldress Frieda shut her eyes for a moment as she breathed in and out slowly. Jessamine could almost feel her unspoken prayers. When she opened her eyes, she said, “Very well, my sister. Follow me.”
When both Sister Sophrena and Sister Edna started to walk behind them, the eldress turned to them. “You must wait here. The air is close in the small meeting room in the heat of the day. We would not want to crowd the room and make our visitor overly uncomfortable. I will be with our sister if she needs support.”
The two of them walked on between the stairways rising to the upper floors. Wondrously and magically clinging to the sides of the wall with the handrails curling down through the air. But Jessamine didn’t need the stairs to awaken her wonder now. It was already racing through her as to who might be waiting for her. The eldress opened a door and led the way into the small room.
“Our sister has agreed to see you, Mr. Brady.” Eldress Frieda stepped to the side to allow Jessamine to see the man waiting for her.
He stood up and let his eyes sweep over her
from her head to her toes and back again. His voice when he spoke was not much more than a whisper. “My Jessamine.” Tears began to stream down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away nor did he show any sign of embarrassment because of his weeping. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined.”
And Jessamine knew without anyone saying the words that this was the prince who had loved her mother. She brushed off Eldress Frieda’s hand when she tried to stop her and walked straight across the room into her father’s arms.
Journal Entry
Harmony Hill Village
Entered on this 21st day of June in the year 1849
by Sister Sophrena Prescott
There is much sorrow in our hearts this evening. Yet another of our novitiate sisters has left our village for the world. The other sister running toward the world was not unexpected, but for our Sister Jessamine to choose to leave us so quickly with no more than a few tears and a slightly regretful look back was much harder to bear or understand.
Perhaps we were wrong to have let her read the letter. Perhaps that is what made her embrace the man who was her father from the world with—Eldress Frieda reports—no hesitation as if she had known him forever instead of having no memory of him at all. As she could not. But she reached for him with eagerness. I fear we may have pushed her from us by the order of constant supervision. These last few days she has seemed to be struggling to hold onto the joy of her spirit. But the Ministry knows best. As Eldress Frieda says, if our sisters are tempted by the world, then there is very little we can do to keep them from running toward sin. We can only pray their journey out into the world will be short-lived and they will see the error of their way and return to us. If that happens with our Sister Jessamine, we will hold our arms out to welcome her home. She will have to make confession of her sins, but she will be restored to us as a loved and loving sister.
Eldress Frieda was attempting to comfort me for she saw how watching our former sister walk away and climb into the carriage with her father of the world was grieving me. But Sister Edna had no pity in her heart. For our former sister or for me. She was quite vocal in proclaiming how she knew the sister’s waywardness would land her feet in a miry pit of sin. She kept saying to anyone who would listen how it was plain to be seen that when one stepped on the slippery slope of disobedience and sin, then one could expect to be overcome by disasters. Disasters of one’s own making. Sister Edna looked very smug as she predicted various disasters. It was wrong of me to point out how she had been with her every minute for over four days and so it would seem she should have been able to encourage the sister to alter her path to destruction.
I will have to confess my sin of unkind words and for laying fault at another’s feet when the fault should be laid at mine. For although Sister Edna had been with her for days, I had been guiding our sister for years. Many times over the years I have questioned in my mind what to do with our former sister. I did not labor hard enough or pray strongly enough to find the proper answer to help her see that life here is the better life. Why could I not get her to believe the love of her sisters and brothers would be strong enough to carry her through any trouble? Nay, not only believe, but to be so sure as to not let any worldly temptation lessen that love.
I shed tears as I followed her out of the house and down the steps. She turned back to me before she let her father of the world hand her up into the carriage. Tears filled her eyes as well when she clasped my hands. Behind us, Sister Edna was stomping and shouting woe as she pushed the sins and evil temptations of the world from her. Other sisters and brothers came from the house to do the same. Their noise seemed far away as I looked into my sister’s eyes and asked her if she was sure this was what she should do.
Yea, she told me, looking very sorrowful but determined as she insisted she must go with the father who loves her. Those were her very words. “The father who loves me.”
I reminded her of how such worldly love would do naught but disappoint her as I clutched her hands tightly. I spoke of how she was surrounded by love here and of how her salvation would be assured.
She brushed aside my words, claiming the Lord was with her before she came to live among us and that he would go with her from the village.
Then my sorrow increased because I knew she was not going to listen, but I pushed the truth toward her of how sin would separate her from the Lord and from us here, her beloved sisters and brothers. From me.
Our former sister’s voice was very soft as she said she did love me, but that her heart desired a different kind of love. I knew she did not only mean the love of her worldly father. So I closed my eyes and let my heart pray for her then. Without words, for I knew not what words would be acceptable. I have lived in the world, but I have never known the sort of love her heart was seeking. That love that brings strife and conflict.
This night I must confess there is conflict in my heart as I sorrow her leaving. Eldress Frieda is right. I sinned to allow our former sister to take up such a large place of residence in my heart. I sinned.
I must remember Mother Ann’s instructions to labor to make the way of God my own. Let that be my inheritance, my treasure, my occupation, my daily calling.
On the morrow I will return to weaving bonnets. On the morrow I will work with my hands and honor God with my labor. I will look toward the day of meeting and the joy of exercising the songs. I will whirl the sin from my heart and seek the way of God. And I will pray in my heart that all my sisters do the same. Especially my former sister whom I loved too much.
22
They went to the town first. Jessamine knew about towns and cities. Her granny had told her stories of exotic sounding cities across the ocean. Places where real princes lived. At the Shaker village, she’d seen maps in the schoolroom and had imagined how the towns indicated by those black dots might look. But since she had come straight from her granny’s woods to the Shaker village, she had never actually been in a town.
One could encounter evil in towns. She did know that much, for it took much work and vigilance to keep Satan from the borders at Harmony Hill. So there was little doubt the old devil slipped around undetected in the towns, lying in wait for the unguarded.
That’s how Jessamine felt as they rode into the town of Harrodsburg. Unguarded. Exposed to whatever evil might be lurking in the shadows. She thought it might be best if she kept her eyes downcast as she sat silent by her father, but she could not. Instead she grasped the edge of the carriage seat and leaned forward to take in every new sight. She eagerly read the signs on the stores crowded side by side close to the street. She had never thought to imagine the stores without yards like those surrounding their buildings in the village.
And the people. She could hardly believe what she saw. Men stood talking together or taking their ease on benches along the street as if they had no duties for the day. The women appeared to move with more purpose as they went in and out of the stores. Some wore bonnets but others had on jaunty hats. A few had no head covering at all. Their full skirts of figured material were held out in sweeping circles with what had to be an overabundance of petticoats. Most surprising of all, some of the men and women walked side by side with the men’s hands under the women’s elbow. Touching. Comfortable. With no sign of worry that sin might overtake them for practicing such familiarity.
Jessamine reminded herself she was no longer in Harmony Hill. If nothing else proved that, the commotion in the street did. In Harmony Hill there was noise, of a surety, but it was the sound of commerce. Tasks being done. Hammers pounding. Brooms sweeping. Kettles rattling. Oxen yokes creaking. At Harmony Hill she would never hear shouts for no cause other than to yell a greeting to someone across the street or see dogs barking at the carriage wheels.
“If you could only see your face, Jessamine. I don’t believe your eyes can get any wider.” Her father smiled over at her.
She sat back and lowered her gaze. He would think she had no knowledge of proper behavior. “Forgive me. I
suppose I am too eager, but I have never before seen a town. At least none other than our Shaker village town.”
He touched her arms softly. “Please, look. I am enjoying seeing the town afresh through your eyes. Although I can’t imagine there’s much to see in this little burg. Wait until you see the likes of New York City.”
“Do you have a house there? Or here?” She had not once considered where they might live. She had simply taken her father’s hand and trusted him to show her the world.
“I have no house anywhere, but never fear, there are many places where a man and his daughter might reside,” he said. “Places, I daresay, more accommodating than that where you have spent the last decade of your life. The eldress told me a preacher brought you to them when you were less than ten years old.”
“He thought it best. He promised they would be good to me. And that I could go to school. Granny had taught me to read and write already, but he said there were many other things to learn. Things I could not learn living alone in the woods the way I wanted to do. I didn’t want to leave Granny.”
“But the eldress said Granny had passed on before you came to them.” He frowned a little as he looked toward her.
“Yea, but I thought to tend her grave. I was very young and had little understanding of what it took to live, but the old preacher told me I couldn’t stay in the woods. He was sorry for me, but he said winter would come and the snows and I would freeze or starve.” She breathed out a small sigh. “I know now he was surely right. The Shakers took me in as a sister and did all the preacher promised they would do. I missed Granny and my trees, but the Shakers were exceedingly kind to me. They showed me much love.”
Her heart still hurt at the sight of Sister Sophrena’s tears when they spoke words in farewell. She understood her sister’s worry. She shared some of that worry about the world. But how could she not go with her father? It seemed meant to be. First the letter and then him appearing in front of her eyes. Nay, more than appearing. Holding his arms out to her. Claiming her as his daughter. To Sister Sophrena, to the Believers, that was a worldly feeling to be shunned. But to her, it was a gift straight from the Lord in answer to prayers she hadn’t even known to pray.
The Gifted Page 25
