The emotional—the physical and mental stress of traveling across Indian territory and not knowing what he would find—had drained Joshua. He asked himself for the thousandth time if he had done the right thing—coming here, slipping through a break in the mission fence, and listening as Callie stood outside the cabin conversing with this man who now knelt by the pregnant woman. Watching. Waiting. Until he heard the woman inside cry out and knew instinctively he could help.
Mentally, Joshua berated himself. This was no time for questioning his decision. Coming here was the only thing he could do. He had planned this for five years, praying fervently all that time that Callie would take one look at him and remember who he was.
Callie could remember how many times she had looked at him—the “stranger,” as she had begun to think of him. The muscles of his jaw formed lines tears would follow, if he ever allowed them to fall; but somehow he didn’t give the appearance of being soft and sensitive. Yet his powerful body moved gracefully, every movement calculated and smooth. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, apparently caused by being too long in the sun.
Now, he disappeared into the early evening darkness toward David Zeisberger’s cabin, where she had insisted he go to properly introduce himself to the elder. Watching him leave, she was possessed by a strange urge to call him back and demand explanations. No, she wouldn’t do it. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was curious. So she had no answers.
Callie glanced over to the table where Suzannah’s husband, Abe, sat. He had been in his work clothes since early this morning, and his clay-brown hair carried creases where he had run his fingers through it the last time. When she had admitted Abe to the cabin, he barely noticed the outsider as he crossed the room, sat beside his wife, and began to pray over and over, “Please, God, not again.”
The same petition had echoed deep in Callie’s soul as well. She had been called to the cabin that morning, fearing the worst and hoping she was wrong. The worst didn’t happen, but not due to anything she had done. She shook her head to rid herself of her dark thoughts then cleared her throat. The sound apparently startled Abe, for he stretched and looked across the room at her.
“How can you be sure she will be all right?” He gazed at his wife. Asleep, Suzannah looked like a delicate flower that might fall apart in a strong wind. Cinnamon hair lay in soft curls around her neck, contrasting with her pale face.
How could she explain what she didn’t know herself? But Abe was not asking about the babies, and that allowed her to speak with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I am sure,” she stated, averting her eyes.
Abe sighed. “Where did that fellow come from, anyway? He did not come through the mission entrance.”
“No?” She had guessed Abe had directed the stranger to the Solomon home. Uneasily, Callie began to wonder about the wisdom of her decision not to challenge the man.
Abe rubbed his hands together. “No. Pretty sure about that. I was sitting out there—keeping myself occupied, you know?”
Callie knew very well what Abe meant. The last time they had been through this, Abe had sat on the same tree stump. That memory reminded her she needed to tell Abe about the twins Suzannah now carried, but Callie kept thinking of two patches of brown dirt and the words the stranger had murmured, “One of them …”
Callie wiped at her eyes, unable to find a way to say something that would cause Abe more grief than any man deserved to bear.
“You do not have to stay if you are tired,” Abe admonished. He pushed away from the table before bending over and hanging his hands between his knees. “I can come get you if she gets worse.”
“I will be fine.” Callie looked at Suzannah, who lay with a hand across her brow. “Besides, you need rest, too. Brother David said he would put you up for the night. Why do you not go on over there?”
Brother David Zeisberger had the largest cabin in the mission. A two-story building, it had been built with extra rooms upstairs for the many friends who came from time to time. Inviting one of their own to spend the night was one way of taking care of the flock.
Abe raised his head. “I would rather be here.”
Callie couldn’t blame him. When he left earlier, his whole world had been falling apart. I am sure he can scarcely believe Suzannah is not losing the baby, Callie thought. She corrected herself: twins.
“He never said who he was, did he?” Abe looked at her intently.
“No, he did not,” Callie confessed, wondering if that sounded as strange to Abe as it did to her. Why hadn’t she asked his name? On top of that, why had she allowed a stranger to treat Suzannah, of all people? What had she been thinking? To hide her frustration, Callie moved to check on Suzannah. As she positioned herself to listen for Suzannah’s breathing, a lingering bitter odor from the medicine used earlier rose up to greet her. The smell made no sense, but there was no time to explore why.
Abe paced the floor for a while then turned to face her. “What did he do?”
There was a hint of disbelief in his voice, and it caused Callie to pause momentarily. She checked Suzannah’s pulse. Slow and steady, unlike her own. How do I know it was him? How do I know what I had already done did not have something to do with it? But she knew Abe was aware of what had happened the last time Suzannah had been entrusted to Callie’s care. The memory caught in the back of her throat.
“He called it a family secret,” she finally admitted.
“I am glad she is safe … but, a family secret, Callie? And you do not know what he used?”
Callie straightened Suzannah’s bedding and ran a hand across her forehead. “Suzannah is fine now.” She returned to sit at the table and noticed the candle was almost burned out. She lit another, and the haze of beeswax filled the air as the flame danced and caught.
Across the room, Suzannah stirred then pushed up on one arm. “Callie?” she called in a trembling voice.
Callie raced to the woman’s side, with Abe close on her heels. “What is it?” She dreaded what she might hear.
“Pain. Again.” Suzannah bit her lip, and Callie saw her own tears reflected back in Suzannah’s amber eyes.
It was unkind, but Callie’s first thought was that the stranger had not solved the problem after all.
Joshua knocked at the door that had been pointed out to him when he left the Solomon home. It was late evening now, his favorite time of day. Soon the nighttime owls’ calls would replace the sound of rain crows, and the moon would illuminate the trees.
Through the yellowed paper covering a window, the blurry silhouette of a man could be seen. Joshua knew he had found the man he sought. It had been five years since he’d had any contact with anyone in the settlement, and he was not sure how his appearance would be received.
David Zeisberger opened the door carrying a handmade candle that cast eerie shadows on the wooden frame and drew attention to the smudges under his somber gray eyes.
“Joshua! Is it really you?” David studied him as if he did not believe what he saw. “Of course it is,” he continued. “No other man would dare travel so far alone! And who else would arrive at this hour?”
Joshua smiled. “I am glad you remember me, Brother David.”
“You are a man not likely to be forgotten,” David replied. “Except by her …” he added quietly as he drew Joshua into the cabin.
Joshua looked around, absorbing the room David called home. It was small but neatly kept. A spindly legged table sat in the middle, surrounded by four chairs made in the same rough style. A wooden bowl filled with porridge was surrounded by eating utensils, and the aroma of baked bread hung in the air. A handwoven throw rug lay under a sturdy shelf Joshua identified immediately as the elder’s work space. A scattering of papers covered the top—notes and sermons David planned to speak from in the future.
“It is good to see you!” David’s words were heavy with German heritage. “But you did not come here to visit with me, did you?” He
filled mugs and offered one to Joshua.
Joshua took a seat at the plank table where David motioned. “You are right of course. I guess you could say memories could not keep me away any longer,” Joshua responded, feeling the familiar twinge of regret that always accompanied the word.
“I see.” David settled into his chair and sipped at his coffee. Steam wafted up, disappearing just before it reached his chin.
“My family lost everything. We couldn’t keep any of the orphans. I thank God daily that you happened to be in Philadelphia during the flood. If you had not been, who knows what would have happened to them….” Joshua drew a deep breath as regret once again pressed against his heart.
Am I doing the right thing? The thought slipped into his mind, forcing him to contemplate what had already happened. He had expected her to dispute his right to walk into the home and tend to the woman. After all, her quizzical expression had revealed that she had no idea who he was, and several times she had looked as if she thought to do just that. Each time she had said nothing, letting her silent gaze speak for itself.
David’s eyes flashed with curiosity, and his comment was more statement than question. “You have come to stay, then.”
Joshua drained the cup, which had cooled while he and David spoke. “If you do not think my presence here will be disruptive, that is my hope.”
“We would have to find something for you to do.”
“Do not forget that after the disaster I spent some time in medical school.” Joshua closed his eyes, remembering. “I did not quite finish the entire course, but I will help any way I can. If there is nothing here for me, I will …”
His words faded into nothing. To find, after traveling so far, that Calliope did not remember him would be the end of all he hoped for. In his youth he had been impatient. He did not seem to have learned much patience since then.
Embers snapped in the fireplace behind him and Joshua glanced into the flames. Would the dream he had nurtured for years die when she discovered who he was? No, life would be a bitter battle if that were so. He had trusted in God to keep her safe and God had answered that prayer. Joshua had found her. But how could he tell her he had come to keep the promise she had given shortly before the flood? His good intentions had been swept away when he’d entered the cabin a few hours earlier and she’d had no obvious reaction to him.
“Finding work is not the problem,” David said, interrupting Joshua’s reverie. Joshua glanced to the slight-statured man who always seemed to have the time and capacity to answer any question he had ever asked. “I do not brag when I say leading a group of Indian followers is not an easy thing to do. We were fortunate to leave Pennsylvania and the pressure of white settlements, where people suspected I was forming some sort of Indian revolt.”
“How many accompanied you here?” Joshua asked.
“Five families last spring. A hundred more people joined us last fall, taxing our meager stores throughout the winter.” David waved a hand in the air. “But that is not the point of our discussion. We were talking about finding work for you, were we not?”
Joshua nodded.
“We are not exempt from illness. But it would mean—”
“I would have contact with Calliope,” Joshua interjected. “Is that what you are afraid of?”
The corners of David’s eyes flared. “Calliope? I had forgotten that was her name before …” David straightened his shoulders and folded his arms in front of his chest. “How did you find her? We left no trail that I know of.”
Joshua noticed David had not asked how he had found them. Just her.
“Martin Mack.” Joshua had run into Martin when the missionary made a fortuitous trip to Philadelphia. David and Martin had worked for years converting Delaware Indians, and anyone else they could, to Christ before David had led his group away from developing hostilities.
“Did he know what you really were looking for?” David asked pointedly.
Joshua was hurt that David would think he had hidden the truth. “Do you think I would lie to him?”
“Forgive me. I did not mean to imply you had.” David gave Joshua a half-smile. “It is just … having you suddenly show up … I am not sure what it will do to her.”
“She has already seen me.” He explained the situation with the Solomon woman and his attempts to help her. Joshua shifted against the wooden slats of the chair, which suddenly seemed hard and uncomfortable. “And she did not remember who I was. Does that make it any easier?”
Callie sipped the remains of a cup of tea she had brewed. She propped her elbows on the table and watched as the dull light outside the window began to brighten. Bread crumbs lay on the tabletop, and she swept them into a pile. Suzannah was asleep again. Abe paced back and forth; his worried steps making soft crunching sounds on the straw-covered dirt floor.
Hours ago it had all seemed so hopeless, Suzannah panting and crying in pain, twisting her arms around her distended abdomen as if she could arrest the delivery. Now, Suzannah’s face was calm; and though her springy curls lay limp against her forehead, she showed no signs of discomfort. Whatever the stranger had given Suzannah had worked. But for how long? Callie wondered. And what would happen if he left and she had none of the medicine he had used?
She couldn’t let him go without bargaining for some of his potions, Callie decided. She would do whatever it took to present her friend with two beautiful living infants to replace the ones Suzannah had lost.
“Since she is resting, I am going home, then to service,” Callie said softly. “I will return after that.” She glanced at Suzannah one more time to assure herself the crisis was over.
Abe’s eyes followed hers. “All right.”
Strolling down the path, Callie recalled how the stranger had marched into the cabin as if he had a right to be there.
The sounds of awakening children carried through the walls of the log cabins sprinkled about the hilltop where the mission stood, and she pictured the children rising and racing outside to play before eating. Interspersed among the sturdy cabins were simpler, temporary structures built of saplings and bark laced together. Callie and Sarah were fortunate to have one of the finished homes that had ended up being too small for families, and it was toward this structure that she was heading.
“Morning.” A deep rumble jolted her from her thoughts.
“Good morning,” she replied automatically, though the resonance of his voice sent her pulse racing. She put a hand up to shield her eyes from the early morning sunlight. He hadn’t gone! Hope rose within her as she realized she still had the opportunity to ask him to leave some of the medicine that had helped Suzannah behind when he left.
“The woman?” His voice had turned flat, with no trace of the compassion he had shown last night.
“Sleeping. And her name is Suzannah.” Callie didn’t know why, but she wanted him to call the woman by her name.
“No problems?”
Callie thought back to what she had done shortly after he left. “Not really,” she hedged.
He inhaled sharply. “She needed another dose, then?”
Callie paused then answered. “Yes. She did.”
He rested his hands on his hips while he looked at some distant point. “Powerful medicine should be used sparingly.”
Callie paled. If she had done anything she shouldn’t have, she would never forgive herself. “Did I hurt her?”
“I would not have left it if it could cause harm.” He reached out to touch her arm in what she assumed was a gesture of friendship. Friendship or no, his touch was warm, and tingles surged through her. She struggled to look calmly up into those magnificent blue eyes.
“I did not get a chance to ask last night….” she began. “Who are you?”
He left his hand on her arm while his gaze swept the length of her plain dress, stopped at her wrinkled apron, then traveled on to the worn moccasins on her feet.
I should be insulted by his scrutiny, Callie thought distractedly. B
ut she wasn’t. She had the eerie feeling she knew him, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? If she had met him during the last five years, she would have remembered. A shadow covered her heart. What about the years before that?
He was staring at her shoes, and Callie remembered the moccasins she had thrown on in haste yesterday morning. He pointed to them. “Your shoes?”
“I made them.” She wondered why he was so interested in her footwear. The moccasins were soft and supple and worn by nearly everyone at the mission. “It is just something I learned from the Delawares,” she said, as if it did not take weeks of hard work to make a pair just the right size.
He lowered the saddlebag from his shoulder to the ground, and she watched as his eyes roamed over the settlement. A small smile flirted with his mouth as he watched some children tossing sticks into a pile near the clearing.
“Did you introduce yourself to Brother David?” she asked. If he had, she would run over there and find out. She could not call him Magicworker to his face.
“Aye-ya.”
No, she told herself, she was twenty-three. She would not run to Brother David. “Who did you tell him you were, then?”
Morning sun highlighted a patch of gleaming black hair and brought out his ruddy complexion. “Joshua.”
She stared. “That is it? Just Joshua?”
“Just Joshua.” A grin crinkled his lips.
“I suppose the rest is a family secret, too?”
“Could be,” he drawled.
He was enjoying dragging this on, she realized. She wasn’t. This family secret business was becoming frustrating. But she did like talking with him, liked the way he cut his sentences short as if there were better things in life to move on to.
Move on! There was that thought again that he might leave. Why did it dismay her so? It is because of what he knows about medicine, she told herself.
The Memory of Love Page 2
