“The Lord has made a wonderful change in thee.” Her knitting needles slowed. “I have wanted to tell thee that for some time but had no opportunity.”
“There’s room at the other end of the bench. May I join thee?”
“Yes. Is thee using plain speech only to keep my attention?”
Nathaniel shuffled across the room. One of the Gospels talked about the Spirit giving believers words they needed. Was this situation included? “No, Deborah Wall.” The bench creaked dangerously under his weight. He put his arm over the back and turned toward her. “This is how I talk. How I was raised.”
He reached over and put his hand on her hands. They felt so soft compared to his. “This is how I want to live my life.”
The knitting needles stilled. Deborah took a deep breath.
Here was where he needed the Lord’s help. “I wonder if thee will undertake such a journey with me, Deborah Wall?” He raised her slender hand and kissed the back of it.
“I would be pleased to do so, Nathaniel,” she whispered, her voice shaky.
Chapter 15
Deborah tried to remember the first time she’d seen Nathaniel as he took her hands in front of everyone at Ma and Pa’s cabin. Today was fifth month, fourteenth day, 1841. Their wedding day.
His eyes were the same shade of blue, same brown lashes and brows, but today his wide grin and easy laugh made him seem like a different man. He was no longer angry and proud or pale and sick. Now he was healthy and strong, sober and honest. Deborah and her family were convinced that he would be a good husband.
All around were family and neighbors. Levi and Katy Coffin came as witnesses. They joined her parents, brothers and sisters and their families, the Coffin girls, Nathaniel’s aunt and uncle, and many of Nathaniel’s horse-shoeing customers in back. Some of the worldly ones stood respectfully in the very back but fidgeted and raised their heads to see to the ceremony. When they sensed it had started, the worldly men removed their hats; the Friends left theirs on.
The Friends looked sober in gray, brown, and black, but their eyes twinkled. Mama had made Deborah a new brown dress, white cape, apron, cap, and bonnet for this sunny spring day. The weather was clear and mild, an answer to many prayers.
Nathaniel repeated the words of the promises as she looked up at him. He never looked more handsome, wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, white shirt, and gray suit. His jacket had no lapels, and his waistcoat buttoned almost to his throat with plain dark buttons—so different from his brave, bright-colored apparel earlier.
“I, Nathaniel Fox, take thee, Deborah Wall, to be my wife. I promise with the Lord’s help to be a loving and faithful husband until death should separate us.”
She knew he meant every word. Deborah’s hands trembled, and her voice shook as she repeated the same promises to him.
The ministers had the certificate ready for them to sign. Nathaniel’s handwriting was neat and steady. She hardly could hold the pen as she signed her new name, Deborah Fox.
The Friends lined up to sign the declaration as witnesses.
Nathaniel pulled Deborah aside. “Tell me this is not a dream, Deborah Wall.”
“Fox. Deborah Fox,” she reminded him. She was still explaining when he gave her their first married kiss, wrapping his muscular arms around her, and pressing her to his warm, solid chest. His lips were soft against hers, and for a long moment, she felt like she was melting.
She stood on tiptoes and put her hand at the back of his neck. She rested her other hand on his cheek, smooth shaven and warm, then gave him a kiss in return.
ANN E. SCHROCK covered breaking news and features for local daily newspapers for ten years after graduating from Purdue University with a bachelor’s degree in agricultural communication. She also has contributed devotionals for Evangel, a weekly paper published by the Free Methodist Church of North America. A native of Wayne County, Indiana, Ann and her husband are raising their three children on the family farm in northern Indiana.
NEW GARDEN’S
INSPIRATION
by Claire Sanders
Dedication
For Tiiann, who inspires me every day.
Chapter 1
Wayne County, Indiana
August 1861
Leah Wall sat in the minister’s study and gazed at the wildflowers in her hands. Young John had gathered a few yarrow and daisies, but queen anne’s lace dominated the group. How had her cousin known that particular flower held a special place in Leah’s heart?
“That flower is like thee,” her mother had said. “Look how it stands straight on its slender body, its face pointing to the sun, praising God for giving it so much strength and purpose.”
Leah ran her finger over the fragile bloom, wishing her mother had lived long enough to see her wedding day. Many farmers considered queen anne’s lace a weed, and since coming to live with her aunt and uncle, Leah had felt more like a weed than a flower.
Aunt Cynthia hurried into the small room. “Is thee ready? The groom has arrived and is talking to the minister and your uncle Abram. It won’t be long now.”
“I’m ready,” Leah answered, knowing her response was less than truthful. She was happy to be getting married, truly she was, but how she wished she could’ve met her future husband before today.
Uncle Abram tapped on the doorframe. “Caleb would like to speak to thee before we begin, Leah. Is thee willing?”
Leah swallowed the lump in her throat. What would Caleb think of her? Aunt Cynthia had helped her make a new dress of pale green cotton, fashioned in the Quaker’s plain style. Leah touched the brim of her white linen prayer cap. Would he think it old-fashioned of her to cover her head? So many women had given up the practice.
Uncle Abram’s bushy beard twitched impatiently. “Well Leah? Shall I send him in?”
Leah took a deep breath and let it out. “Of course,” she answered, wincing at the tremble in her voice.
Aunt Cynthia placed a reassuring hand on Leah’s shoulder.
Uncle Abram’s eyebrows drew together. “Alone, Cynthia,” he clarified. “I’m sure Leah will be fine with the man she intends to marry.”
“Oh,” Aunt Cynthia said as her cheeks tinged pink. She turned to Leah. “I’ll be right outside if thee should need me.”
Her uncle closed the door, leaving Leah in anxious silence. Surely it was a good thing Caleb wanted to speak to her before the ceremony. He wouldn’t have let things go this far if he planned to call it off. Of course he’d been gone for the past two weeks, settling his affairs before reporting for duty. Maybe he simply hadn’t had the opportunity to tell her he’d changed his mind.
A soft knock on the door recalled Leah’s wandering attention. “Come in.”
The door swung open and Leah gasped. Before her stood the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Dressed in the Union’s blue uniform, Caleb was tall and well built, with a straight nose and full lips. Black brows framed piercing blue eyes. His dark hair curled around his ears and fringed the stiff white collar of his shirt. He removed his hat and stood stiffly in the doorway. “Miss Wall,” he said, then swallowed and began again. “Miss Wall, I’m Caleb Whitaker.”
He waited for Leah to acknowledge him, but she was dumbstruck by the man’s heart-stopping presence.
Caleb cleared his throat and slid his hat’s brim through his fingers. “I’d like to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into before we seal this bargain.”
Bargain? Didn’t he know what a great favor he was doing her?
“I have two children—a girl, twelve, and a boy of four. My wife died shortly after giving birth to Stephen, so he’s never known a mother. Olivia, that’s my daughter—well, Olivia is dead set against needing a new mother, so you’ll probably have your hands full with her.”
Leah’s gaze transfixed on Caleb’s hands as he continued to rotate the hat. They were so big, a farmer’s hands, accustomed to hard work, and yet they gently caressed the brim.
“My aunt Ro
se has been helping me with the children for the last few years, but she’s getting up in age and unable to take the children full time. I have eighty-three acres of good farmland. There are fruit trees—pear, cherry, and apple, of course, as well as butternut. I am to report to Evansville, but I don’t expect to be gone long. I can’t imagine the South lasting more than a few months, so I’ll be back soon.”
Caleb’s gaze drifted to the small window beside the door. “In return for you doing me this honor, I promise to be responsible for your well-being for the rest of your life.”
Leah tore her gaze away from Caleb’s hands and looked at his profile. In her twenty-four years, she’d learned there were many kinds of men—those who couldn’t be trusted, those who treated livestock better than their own wives, and those who broke their word as easily as spring ice. What kind of man was Caleb Whitaker?
“He’s a good man,” Uncle Abram had assured her. “It’s true he’s not a Friend, but he’s worked with us in helping many runaway slaves on their way to freedom. Besides Leah, thee isn’t likely to get another offer.”
Caleb looked at her, waiting for her response. Did he really think she’d decline his proposal? He was offering her a chance to get away from Uncle Abram’s constant disapproval. She’d prepared for life as a spinster, had looked into the future and seen nothing but a barren womb. Like Jephthah’s daughter, she’d bewailed her virginity and resigned to life as an unwanted poor relation. But everything had changed in a scant two weeks.
She was to be married.
She was to be a mother and a wife.
Someone did want her.
Caleb’s sheathed sword clattered as he shifted his weight and looked at her. “Is this arrangement agreeable to you, Miss Wall?”
Leah struggled to answer, but her mouth was as dry as an August afternoon. “I—I…”
Caleb’s dark brows drew together.
She reached for the water pitcher on the minister’s desk. Caleb sprang into action, pouring the water into the glass and handing it to her.
She took the glass with a shaky hand. Realizing she’d soon be drenched, she tried to steady the glass. But once free of her tight grip, her bouquet rolled off her lap and onto the canvas rug. Caleb dropped to one knee and retrieved it.
How like a suitor he looked, kneeling at her side, offering her flowers. She almost reached out to stroke his clean-shaven cheek.
Leah smiled in spite of her trembling insides. “I thank thee,” she said, taking the bouquet. “I will do all I can to be a good wife and mother.”
Caleb stood. “Thank you, Miss Wall. Shall I tell the minister we’re ready to begin?”
Leah nodded her assent, and Caleb stepped out of the small room. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
Uncle Abram reappeared in the doorway. “Let’s go, girl. Your aunt has a wedding feast planned, and I’m hungry.”
Leah rose on shaky legs, took another deep breath, and followed her uncle into the small sanctuary. Dark wooden pews lined a central aisle, and arched windows let in the afternoon sun. Caleb stood next to a portly, balding man dressed in a black frock coat, white shirt, and black bowtie. “Good morning, Miss Wall,” the man said. “I’m Reverend Harrison, and I’ll be conducting the service today.”
In the Quaker tradition, a couple who desired to marry stood before the gathered Friends and spoke their vows to each other. Leah should have known the Methodists would be different. “Good morning,” she replied.
“Is everyone ready to begin?” Reverend Harrison asked.
Uncle Abram clasped Leah by her upper arms and guided her to stand in front of the minister. “She’s ready,” he said for her. Caleb stood on her right side.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister began.
Leah glanced at her aunt. Cynthia’s hands covered her face, but Leah could see her aunt’s excitement shining from her brown eyes. When Uncle Abram had told Leah about his arrangement with Caleb, Aunt Cynthia had nearly erupted with excitement. “It’s too bad thee didn’t bring thy wedding chest with thee,” Aunt Cynthia clucked, “but we’ll get some linens together quick as a wink.”
Leah hadn’t told her aunt she’d never begun a wedding chest. When other girls her age had begun making linens and collecting dishes, Leah’s mother had directed her down another path. “It’s better for thee to learn a trade than to fill a chest with dreams. I’ll teach thee how to keep the bees, and thee will never want for a taste of sweetness.”
“Therefore,” the minister continued, “if any can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him speak now….”
No one would dare object to Leah’s union with Caleb. Least not Uncle Abram. Ever since she’d shown up at the railroad station with one trunk, her box of medicinals, and two empty bee skeps, he’d let her know she was a charity case. Orphaned at seventeen, she’d had nowhere to go except to her father’s brother. But every ounce of her uncle’s resentment was matched by a pound of her aunt’s gratitude. With four sons, Aunt Cynthia had welcomed another woman’s set of hands.
The minister turned to face Caleb. “Caleb Whitaker, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
What sweet words. What a blessing it would be to have a man to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her. If only the women of her home village could see her now, marrying a handsome officer and taking her place among the wives of this community. Her mother’s acquaintances had publicized their opinions well—plain Leah, tall as a willow and thin as its branch. Such a pretty complexion wasted on such a homely face. How she’d like to see those ladies now.
The minister cleared his throat, jerking Leah’s attention from the painful memory. Reverend Harrison smiled at her and raised his eyebrows. Leah smiled back.
“Will you?” he asked.
“Will I what?”
Aunt Cynthia laughed. “Say ‘I will,’ Leah.”
Leah looked over her shoulder at her aunt.
“Say ‘I will,’ “Aunt Cynthia repeated.
Her uncle sighed heavily, his very breath communicating his dwindling patience. “The man’s asking if thee will take Caleb to be thy husband, Leah. Say ‘I will.’ “
“Oh.” Leah glanced at Caleb. His left hand was on his sword, his back as straight as the ladder-back chairs of the Friends’ meetinghouse, and his gaze fixed on the minister. “I will,” she said finally.
Reverend Harrison nodded his approval. “Is there a ring?”
Caleb removed a small ring from his coat pocket, showed it to the minister, and reached for Leah’s hand.
Leah shivered at his touch, but Caleb seemed unmoved as he slipped the gold band around her finger. The minister spoke on, but Leah’s attention was riveted on the ring. It was true. She was a married woman.
Aunt Cynthia embraced her while Uncle Abram shook Caleb’s hand. “Welcome to the family,” he said. “My wife’s prepared a fine meal for all of us. Come out to the house, and we’ll celebrate. Would thee like to come, Reverend?”
“Can’t make it today,” Reverend Harrison answered. “I’ve got a funeral in a few hours. But my best to the new couple.”
Aunt Cynthia took Leah’s arm and pushed her toward the door. “Wasn’t that just lovely? Weddings are such happy times. The boys were supposed to take thy trunk and medicinal box to Caleb’s farm. Is thee excited to see thy new home?”
Leah looked back at her new husband. Caleb stood, his hands behind his back, listening to her uncle and the minister. But his eyes watched her.
Leah froze at the threshold, one foot inside the church, the other outside. Caleb’s steady gaze called to her, drawing her back to his side. Wasn’t that where she belonged now?
“What is it?” Aunt Cynthia asked. “Did thee forget something?” “Is Caleb comi
ng with us?”
“Of course he is.” Aunt Cynthia laughed softly.
But Leah could neither force her feet to move nor tear her gaze away from Caleb. Every part of her being longed to return to his side, to slip her hand into his and make her allegiance clear.
As if sensing Leah’s indecision, Aunt Cynthia called to her husband. “Abram, we’d best get going before the boys help themselves to Leah’s wedding cake.”
“On our way,” Uncle Abram called back.
Leah’s gaze never wavered as Caleb approached. Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Abram stepped outside, leaving the newlyweds alone in the church.
Caleb smiled at his new wife. “It’s kind of your aunt to prepare a meal for us.”
Leah returned his smile. “She’s been preparing since Uncle Abram told us the news.”
Caleb offered his arm to her. “Shall we go?”
Leah linked her arm with his and allowed him to lead her outside. This was the way it should be, walking by her husband’s side for the rest of her life.
Chapter 2
Leah moved into the kitchen to help her aunt with the meal.
“No, no.” Aunt Cynthia shooed her away with a dishcloth. “The bride never prepares her own wedding feast. Thee and thy husband are guests of honor today.”
Thee and thy husband. Leah would never tire of hearing that.
Uncle Abram’s voice sounded from just outside the open door. “Matthew! Where are thy brothers?”
“Putting the horse to pasture,” Matthew called back to his father. “Mark took Leah’s things to Caleb’s place and let the little ones tag along. Hello, Caleb. Congratulations on thy marriage.”
“Thank you,” Caleb answered.
“Come in the house,” Uncle Abram said, “and make thyself comfortable. The other boys will be here soon.”
Leah stood in the middle of the kitchen and watched the threshold, eager to see Caleb’s boot step into the house. If he came inside her uncle’s house, it would somehow signal his acceptance of Quaker ways.
Quakers of New Garden Page 14
