Quakers of New Garden

by Claire Sanders

  Young John’s voice called, “Is Leah here? Did she get married? Is she back yet?”

  “Slow down,” Uncle Abram called to his youngest son, “before thee runs out of air and collapses like a paper lantern.”

  The sound of men’s laughter floated through the open doorway, but still there was no black boot.

  Seven-year-old John ran into the kitchen, his flushed face shining as he threw his arms around Leah’s waist, turning her so quickly she almost lost her balance. “Leah! Guess what! Me and Luke carried thy trunk all by ourselves. Mr. Whitaker’s house is awful big. Bigger even than ours. And Stephen’s going to have a new colt.”

  Leah brushed the blond hair from her young cousin’s forehead. John was like the wind before a spring storm, refreshing yet overwhelming. “When thee comes to visit, the colt will be there.”

  “Call thy brothers,” Aunt Cynthia commanded him, “and tell them to wash up. It’s time to eat.”

  John tore his arms from Leah and dashed toward the door. “Matthew! Mark! Luke! Time to eat!”

  Leah chuckled at the young boy’s antics, yelling his brothers’ names before ever leaving the house, but when she turned back toward the door, she saw Caleb standing rigidly inside the kitchen. As soon as she’d stopped watching for him, he’d come in.

  Aunt Cynthia brushed past her with a platter of meat. “Sit thee down, Caleb. Anywhere is fine. Everything’s ready.”

  Caleb hung his hat on a peg near the door, unbuckled his sword belt, and hung it next to his hat. He drew back a chair and waited for Leah to be seated.

  She smiled and moved toward him. “Thank thee,” she said as she eased into the chair. Perhaps some women were accustomed to such a gentlemanly courtesy, but it was a first for Leah. Would the rest of her life be filled with such civility and consideration?

  Loud voices and the stomping of boots announced the arrival of her cousins. Matthew, the eldest, was first through the door. “Congratulations, Leah,” he said with a dimpled grin. “We’re going to miss thee around here. Especially Mother.”

  Before Leah could reply, the second son, Mark, came in. “Does this mean I’ll have to ride all the way to Caleb’s farm if I want honey cookies?”

  “There will always be honey for thee and thy family,” Leah assured him.

  Uncle Abram took his seat at the head of the table. “Did thee know Leah keeps bees, Caleb?”

  “No I didn’t.”

  Matthew took the seat across from Caleb and shook his dark hair out of his face. “She’s got two skeps full of honeycombs and some supers beneath them. She just sold twenty jars of honey to the general store in Newport.”

  “Skeps?” Caleb asked.

  Matthew poured milk into his younger brothers’ cups. “A skep is like an upside-down bushel basket. The bees build their hives in it.”

  “And a super?” Caleb asked. “What’s that?”

  “Extra baskets,” Mark continued, indicating the structure with his hands, “that sit underneath the skep. The bees store their extra honey in them. That way, Leah doesn’t have to destroy the original hives when she harvests the honey.”

  “Sounds as though you know a lot about bees,” Caleb remarked.

  “Not me.” Mark said. “Leah taught me everything I know. Before she came I chased away bees, but now I respect the little creatures. They work harder than my brothers and me at harvest time. Plus Leah knows all about doctoring. She’s cured more than one stomachache around here with her box of medicinals.”

  Caleb looked at Leah. “Will you move the bees to my farm or keep them here?”

  He was so close to her, she could see the small dark whiskers the razor had missed. “When I find a good spot for them on thy farm, I will move them. Does thee object?”

  “Of course not. Your bees and their honey will be a good addition. Where did you learn about medicine?”

  “From my mother. She knew how to mix medicinal plants with the honey and wax to treat aches and pains.”

  “Where’s Luke?” Aunt Cynthia asked. “Has anybody seen him?”

  “Want me to go look for him?” Young John asked in his high-pitched voice.

  “I do not,” Aunt Cynthia answered. “I want thee to stay right where thee is.” She shot a glance at Caleb. “It’s a wonderful thing to have four sons, but getting them all in the same place at the same time is not an easy task. Matthew, will thee—”

  Before she could finish her request, Luke came into the room. Leah’s heart went out to the painfully shy boy as he shuffled to his seat, his face averted from Caleb’s gaze.

  “Finally,” Aunt Cynthia said as she took her seat opposite her husband.

  Uncle Abram bowed his head. “Let us say grace.”

  The family sat in silence, each one giving quiet thanks. Leah adored the many moments of quiet prayer Quakers enjoyed, and after her hectic morning, she was relieved to close her eyes and reconnect her soul with God. She thanked the Lord for Aunt Cynthia, who’d welcomed her with open arms. She asked for blessings on her cousins, all healthy young men who grew stronger with each season. She thanked God for the man who sat at her side. Caleb would take her away from this house and into his own, and there they would build a life. She even gave thanks for Uncle Abram and asked the Lord again to give her a more understanding heart when it came to her uncle’s harsh words.

  Leah raised her head and met Uncle Abram’s gaze. It was his custom to watch his family, and when the last head lifted, end the prayer. Leah looked around the table. Everyone’s head had lifted except Caleb’s.

  They sat in respectful silence, waiting for Caleb to finish his prayer, but when the seconds stretched into minutes, and when Mark’s stomach complained loudly about its emptiness, Young John dissolved into giggles.

  Caleb lifted his eyes and glanced around at the others. “Aren’t you going to say grace?”

  “We did say it,” Matthew teased. “Thee is the only one who feels the need to have such a long conversation with the Lord.” Caleb’s furrowed eyebrows made it clear he was puzzled. “What?”

  Aunt Cynthia chided her firstborn. “Hush, Matthew. Perhaps Caleb doesn’t know our tradition of silent grace.”

  Leah felt obliged to stick up for her husband. “It’s perfectly all right.” She sent a menacing glare toward Matthew.

  Aunt Cynthia passed a platter of roasted chicken. “Perhaps we should let Mark get the first bite. I don’t want to hear anything else his stomach has to say.”

  Aunt Cynthia drew Leah into a tight embrace. “Thee will be a blessing to Caleb and his children, the same as thee has been to us.”

  Uncle Abram cleared his throat, a sound that signaled it was time for Leah and Caleb to leave. “If thee doesn’t get moving, it will be dark by the time thee get to Caleb’s farm. Matthew will drive thee.”

  Caleb offered his hand to help Leah into the buggy. She moved to the seat’s far side, expecting Caleb to join her as he had on the trip from the church to her uncle’s farm, but he swung onto his horse instead.

  It was natural, Leah thought. Of course he’d be more comfortable on his horse. He’d tethered the animal to the buggy after the ceremony at the church, but now he probably felt the desire to be mounted rather than squeeze his long legs into the cramped buggy.

  Matthew flicked the reins, and the buggy pulled away from the place she’d called home for the last seven years. She turned to give a last wave, but her eyes filled with tears at the sight of her dear aunt crying into her apron.

  Leah’s heart yearned to jump from the buggy and run to her aunt, but one thought stilled her: Perhaps Aunt Cynthia’s tears were tears of joy. She’d been excited about Leah’s marriage, extolling Caleb’s virtues, and already planning for a spring baby.

  A baby. Leah’s body grew warm at the thought. Tonight she’d finally discover the secret that bonded a man to a woman. Tonight would be the first of many nights she’d share a bed with her husband.

  She watched Caleb as his horse cantered beside the b
uggy. How wonderful he looked atop his chestnut stallion. With his dark features and straight back, he reminded her of a knight, bent on accomplishing some noble deed. He held the reins loosely, confident in his equestrian skills, and kept his gaze fixed to the roadway.

  How blessed she was to be married to Caleb. Uncle Abram had done her few favors since he’d grudgingly taken her in, but she’d find it easy to forget her uncle’s callous remarks, now that he’d arranged a union with such a beautiful man.

  Matthew turned the buggy onto a drive that bordered a small stream. How odd Leah had never come this way before. Since she’d come to live with her aunt and uncle, she’d only gone to First Day meetings and the general store.

  “Here’s they new home, Leah,” Matthew called over his shoulder.

  Leah leaned forward to get her first look at Caleb’s house. Her hand flew to her open mouth as the building came into view. Two stories tall and painted a pristine white, the house sat among a cluster of towering oaks. It was double the size of other farmhouses and had one feature she’d never seen before—a wall full of windows. Glass was so expensive, no one built a house with more windows than were absolutely necessary. Caleb Whitaker certainly wasn’t a poor farmer, struggling to feed his family. Only a well-to-do family could afford such a luxury.

  The buggy crossed a wooden bridge over the stream and pulled to a stop in front of a wide porch. Caleb dismounted and walked to the buggy. “Welcome home, Leah. I hope you’ll find everything to your liking.”

  Leah looked into her husband’s kind eyes and smiled. “Thee has a beautiful home. How many families live here?”

  “Just my two children and Aunt Rose.”

  Leah turned to take in the scene again. What miracle had made her the mistress of such a lovely home? Had one brief ceremony changed her from poor relation to gentry?

  A dark-skinned man, dressed in work pants and a shirt, walked up to Caleb’s horse. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said, tugging at the brim of his hat.

  “Oh Joseph,” Caleb said. “Allow me to introduce Leah Wall. She’ll be staying here and helping with the children while I’m gone.”

  Leah cut her gaze to Caleb. That was a strange way to introduce her. It made her sound more like a servant than a wife.

  “Leah, this is Joseph. He’s been working here for almost ten years and will continue to run the farm while I’m away.”

  Leah made her way out of the buggy. “It’s nice to meet thee,” she said, offering her hand to Joseph.

  Joseph removed his hat and took Leah’s hand. “Thank you, ma’am. Anything you need, anything at all, you just let me know.”

  Leah returned the man’s warm smile, wondering if Joseph was one of the many runaway slaves that had passed through Wayne County on their way to freedom. If Caleb was an abolitionist, it would sit well with the Friends who disapproved of her marrying outside the group.

  “Where is everyone?” Caleb asked.

  “Little Stephen’s in the barn worrying about the mare. I imagine Olivia’s inside with Miss Rose.”

  Caleb handed the reins of his horse to Joseph and motioned toward the barn. “Shall we check on my son?” he asked Leah.

  Leah looked up at her cousin. “Thank thee for driving me, Matthew.”

  “Will I see thee at First Day meeting?”

  “Of course.”

  Matthew waved farewell then drove the buggy down the drive. Leah fell into step beside Caleb. Ever since Uncle Abram had spoken to her about the Whitakers, she’d been anxious to meet Caleb’s children.

  The white barn stood out against the tall blue Indiana sky. The earthy smells of fresh hay and animals met Leah as she and Caleb stepped into the barn, and the chirps of swallows echoed in the rafters.

  “Some say swallows bring the farmer good luck,” she said, gesturing toward the roof.

  “I’ve never understood why some farmers chase them out of their barns. The mess they make is a small price to pay for the hundreds of insects they eat.”

  “Papa!” A dark-haired boy straddling a stall gate jumped off and ran toward Caleb. “I think Snowdrop is ready to foal. She’s been acting peculiar. Joseph says it’s almost time.”

  Caleb placed a hand on the boy’s back and squatted to his eye level. “Could be. Joseph knows more about horses than any man I know. Let’s have a look at her.”

  Stephen ran back to the stall. The dappled gray mare lay in the hay, nickering softly. Caleb unlatched the gate and went to the horse’s side. “Easy girl,” he said. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” He placed his hands on the horse’s side, pressing every few inches. “I believe Joseph’s right, son. We’ll have a foal by morning. But there’s no need for you to be out here bothering the mother. Snowdrop needs some peace and quiet.”

  Stephen’s shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment. “I don’t want to miss it, Papa. Joseph says he’s going to sleep out here tonight. May I stay with him?”

  “Let me talk to Joseph,” Caleb answered, “and I’ll let you know before bedtime.”

  Stephen’s glum expression changed to curiosity when he noticed Leah. “Who’s that, Papa?”

  “This is the lady I told you about, son. Leah’s going to be your new mother.”

  Stephen’s eyes, the same blue as his father’s, widened. “It’s today? Today’s the day my new momma comes?”

  “It’s today.”

  Stephen left his father’s side and approached Leah. “Hello.”

  Leah smiled. “Hello. Snowdrop is a beautiful mare. Is this her first baby?”

  “It sure is.” Stephen ran back to the stall. “See that white spot on her head? Olivia said it looked like the flowers that grow by the stream, so we call her Snowdrop. Do you have a horse?”

  “No, but if I did, it could never be as beautiful as Snowdrop. What will thee call her foal?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I like the name Star, but Olivia says we have to wait to see the foal before we name it. Have you ever seen a horse being born?”

  “I certainly have. Horses make great mothers.”

  Caleb put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Where is your sister, Stephen?”

  “In the house with Aunt Rose. She made a cherry pie. I begged her for a slice, but she said she put frog guts in it.” Stephen turned to Leah. “Don’t worry. She just said that so I wouldn’t sneak a piece.”

  Leah hid her smile behind her fingers. What an adorable child. So full of life and love and already wise to the scheming of big sisters.

  “I’m sure Olivia will share the pie now that we’re home,” Caleb assured him. He winked conspiratorially at Leah and walked toward the house.

  She’d already made an ally, Leah thought as she walked beside Caleb. Stephen had accepted her easily. But earlier that morning Caleb had warned her about Olivia. The girl had been eight years old when her mother died, old enough to remember her mother’s loving touch and old enough to feel the dreadful pain of loss.

  Stephen ran through an open doorway at the side of the house. “Olivia! Papa’s home, and he brought our new mother! Where are you, Olivia?”

  Leah followed the boy through the doorway and stepped into a spacious kitchen. A large wood-burning iron stove took up most of one wall, and cupboards lined another. Pink-tinted light from the setting sun streamed through the large windows.

  “Papa,” Stephen said, “don’t forget about the pie.”

  “I won’t forget. Run upstairs and clean up.”

  “And then we’ll have pie?”

  “Do what I said. Then we’ll talk about pie.”

  “If I’m going to spend the night in the barn, why should I clean up?”

  “No clean hands, no pie.”

  Stephen grinned at his father and ran upstairs.

  “Caleb, is that you?” A lady’s voice called from another room.

  “Yes, Aunt Rose.”

  “Come into the parlor.”

  Caleb turned to Leah. “My aunt is most anxious to meet you.”


  She nodded to Caleb and followed him into the parlor. A gray-haired woman, dressed in a dark blue skirt and white lacy blouse, sat on an upholstered settee. A wooden cane was propped against the edge of a nearby table.

  “Good evening.” The woman smiled warmly. “I am Rose Martin, Caleb’s aunt. Won’t you have a seat?”

  “Thank thee,” Leah answered as she moved to a matching chair near the fireplace.

  Caleb stood near Rose, his hands behind his back. “How are you feeling today, Rose?”

  “Fine, Caleb, just fine. Stop worrying.” Rose turned her gaze on Leah. “Rheumatism. It gets worse with each birthday, but I still get around.” She gestured to the cane. “Are you hungry? We’ve had our dinner, but I can prepare a plate for you.”

  “Please don’t go to the trouble,” Leah answered. “Caleb and I ate at my aunt and uncle’s house.”

  “How nice,” Rose replied. “Have you met the children?”

  “I met Stephen,” Leah answered.

  Rose’s smile widened. “I’m heartened to learn you met our whirlwind of a boy and lived to tell the tale. The only time that boy is quiet is when he’s sleeping. Caleb, Olivia’s in her room. Will you call her?”

  “Of course,” Caleb answered, but before he’d taken two steps a young girl appeared in the doorway.

  There was no rough-and-tumble play dress for this girl. Olivia sported a blue hooped skirt with red piping, a matching jacket, and a white blouse with a lacy collar. The girl’s glossy black shoes reflected the white lace around the hem of her drawers.

  “Good evening, Papa,” Olivia said and curtsied.

  The girl looked like a fine porcelain doll, her clothing fancier than anything Leah had ever owned. Was this normal dress for the Whitaker household? Leah looked at Rose, but when she caught the older woman’s gaze, Rose covered her lips with a handkerchief and looked out the window.

  Caleb stepped back, a frown on his face. “Why, Olivia. What’s this all about? Your Sunday best on a Friday?”

  “I simply wanted to look nice. Isn’t that all right?”

  Caleb tilted his head. “I suppose so.”