Sarah had done the same thing when she carried Sammy. Levi had joked with her and told her that if she’d been any shorter or further along, she’d have been stuck in that position. Sarah was glad Bessie wasn’t huge, otherwise she could imagine that very thing happening to her.
“You do not hurt anywhere, do you?” Sarah perused the V-shaped woman.
“No. I just cannot seem to get the motion going to stand back up. Will you help me?”
Sarah moved in front of Bessie, grabbed both arms, and tugged gently upward, ready to counterbalance if need be. When Bessie stood upright, her eyes shone like lanterns on a winter night.
Bessie fanned herself. “How embarrassing. Please do not tell Captain. He would skin me alive if he knew I did that.”
“I did something similar once,” Sarah confided in a burst of intimacy. “I will not tell if you promise not to do it again.”
“You do not think I hurt my child, do you?” Bessie looked stricken.
“I do not know, but it did not seem to injure Sammy.”
“Oh! I promised I would watch him for you. I plumb forgot. Did you see him?”
Sarah explained that he was playing by the door. “How long were you like that, anyway?” Now that her initial agitation had faded, she relaxed a little.
“Not long. Honest.” Bessie collapsed onto the edge of her mattress. “Whew. That was refreshing. You sound out of breath. Why were you hurrying so?”
“Well, I went to the trading post, and you know I was not really expecting anything, but there it was.”
“What?” Bessie sounded suspicious.
Sarah was too excited to care. “A notice that someone wanted a laundress.”
“Who?”
“It didn’t say.”
“You mean you do not know who you will be working for?”
Sarah frowned. “No.” Not knowing hadn’t seemed important until Bessie pointed it out. “The clerk at the post just said I could pick up and return the work there.”
“And he gave no hint as to who it was for?”
Sarah paced the small room, chewing on her lip. “No. Do you think I should refuse since I do not know who I will work for?”
“Oh no. I did not mean that,” Bessie gushed. “I am sure whoever it is has a reason for keeping their identity hidden.”
Sarah caught her hands behind her. “It does sound strange, but this will allow me to contribute to the running of your household. You know how guilty I feel about accepting food and lodging from you.”
“We have all known hard times. It is only proper that we help others when they need it. Captain and I would not have asked you to come with us if we did not want to share.” Bessie pushed off the bed. “I think we should celebrate your hiring with a cup of tea.”
“Only if you promise to sit, like a woman with child should,” Sarah admonished.
“Yes ma’am.” Bessie giggled as she ambled down the hallway. “I cannot believe I could not get back up. Oh Sarah. What would I have done if you had not come back just then?”
“I do not know.” Bessie’s gratitude tugged at Sarah’s heart. She didn’t need commitments like that.
Jeremiah closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Lord, You know what is in the next entry as well as I do. I’m scared, Lord—afraid of what I will do when I see the words. Be with me, Lord. Help me through this.
He opened his eyes and focused on the date: “August 14, 1779.” He knew he must read this, if for no other reason than to put it behind him. He blinked to clear the blurry words he was about to read.
“A band of Wyandots were shot not far from here by a Fort Pitt detachment. We are positive that the heathens were responsible for the recent deaths of Jenny Townsend and her brother.”
Sorrow wedged in Jeremiah’s throat. He dropped the journal, not caring that it landed on the toe of his boot. Jenny Townsend—his promised, his beloved. Tears burned his eyes. Jenny, with her carefree laugh, her long, dark hair, and her way of making everyone she talked to feel more loved, more precious.
Pain dug through Jeremiah’s heart. He didn’t push it away. It was time he faced his loss. He could have avoided reading this and not recalled the horror of Jenny’s death, but hadn’t he done that for too long? Hadn’t he lived within himself, not reaching out to others as he should?
Yes, he had. That wasn’t how his parents had raised him.
“Blessed is the man that maketh the Lord his trust.” Jeremiah’s mother had quoted that verse from chapter forty of the book of Psalms at the table every morning. Later Jenny had adopted the practice herself. If nothing else, Jenny Townsend had believed in Jesus.
That’s what I must remember, Jeremiah consoled himself. Jenny may not be here with me, but she is in heaven with our Lord, and with my mother.
Jeremiah repeated the statement until it seemed branded on his heart. With a deep sigh, he drew the book back onto his lap and hardened his heart as he reopened it.
Once past the heartache of the first entry, Jeremiah tried to make sense of other writings, which detailed the successes and failures of pioneer families. Being unable to concentrate, he slid the book out of sight and formed a triangle with his pointer fingers and thumbs.
Why did You put me here, God? What is it I have yet to learn before I move on?
He thought back on his childhood. He’d grown up content to help his parents eke out a living until he was old enough to learn the blacksmith trade. Though he barely made a success of that, he enjoyed working with animals. When the courier position arose shortly after his mother died, Jeremiah decided to apply for it.
“You are running off to war,” his father had argued.
“No, Pa. I am going to help my country in its search for freedom.”
“Believe what you want, son, but you will end up killing those who God put on this earth.”
“I am just a courier, Pa. I will never kill,” Jeremiah had promised.
In the end, after all the disagreeing, there was nothing left to say. As a courier, he thought he would not rise above the enlisted ranks. Now he was a county lieutenant, with the potential to control the fate of an entire county.
Perhaps I should write Pa, fill him in on all that’s happened. Or perhaps I should wait until after the birth of Bessie’s child?
Jeremiah’s gaze settled on the candle on the desk. He followed wisps of smoke rising from it as they traveled toward the ceiling’s gloom. It wouldn’t hurt if he posted a letter to his father tomorrow. He would tell him about Bessie and the young’un on the way, about Captain and how he appeared to have helped Jeremiah’s baby sister get over her grief. He might even mention Sarah Lyons, if for no other reason than to let his father know she’d suffered as great a tragedy as Jeremiah himself. The only thing he wouldn’t tell his father was what he was doing in the militia—no use upsetting Pa any more than necessary.
Sarah scrubbed shirts until she thought her arms would fall off. Even though the position offered her scarcely enough to buy Sammy a hard candy every week, she wanted the clothing to be as perfect as possible so she wouldn’t lose the job.
Bessie still thought Sarah should ask who’d hired her. Sarah was reluctant to do so. If she was successful at this, she might garner more work. That would provide her a way to raise Sammy, and that was what was important.
Bessie had taken Sammy to see Jeremiah, as she did daily. Before she left, she insisted that Sarah use her portion of soap, as well as the hot irons. Promising to reimburse Bessie for the lye soap, Sarah agreed. She had propped the irons against the grate to heat, and glanced over to check them. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to get the shirts any cleaner, she wrung out the water and hung them near the hearth. Wiping her hands on her apron, she sauntered to the large room, where she straightened a few of Bessie’s knickknacks.
Noticing that the quilt across the back of Captain’s chair was skewed, Sarah moved to straighten it. One of Sammy’s blocks lay in her path. She stumbled over it,
her hand flinging out and knocking Captain’s Bible off the chair arm. The book fell, its pages ruffling. A flash of yellow drifted downward like an autumn leaf.
Sarah glanced around until she spied a sliver of yellow ribbon tied around a lock of hair. Whose was it? It didn’t matter whose, she had to put it back. But where? Her sister would have stashed a small object such as this in a specially marked place within God’s Word. Sarah hadn’t touched a Bible in years, let alone opened one.
It’s just a book, she told herself. Just because I’ve decided to go it alone doesn’t mean anything will happen if I open it.
Sarah studied the volume, knowing there was only one thing she could do. Finally, she picked up the book and raised the cover. Inside, a spidery inscription read: “Presented to Daniel Hall and his second wife, Bessie, on the occasion of their marriage. Given by Johanna Hall—December 25, 1778.”
It took Sarah a minute to recall she’d heard Bessie call her husband Daniel occasionally. But it was the phrase “his second wife” that baffled Sarah. She had not suspected that Captain had been married before. Did Bessie know? Oh, what did it matter anyway? Whatever had gone before in Captain’s life meant little to Sarah.
“Was it not Psalms that Captain declared his favorite?” Sarah murmured to herself.
Thinking she might lay the tuft of hair there until she found out for sure where it belonged, she slid a finger between some pages in the middle of the book and turned to the book of Psalms. As the rustling pages settled into place, verses sprang to her mind.
“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”
“I waited patiently for the LORD; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.”
They were words that had given hope when there was little else to cling to. As a new Christian, Sarah once had believed their promises. Now she trusted only herself. Misery filled her heart.
Why did I make the choices I made? How can God ever forgive me for not trusting Him as I should have all this time?
Sarah stifled a sob. Instead of concentrating on the path she’d chosen, she needed to decide what to do about the snippet of hair. She couldn’t go through the Bible page by page hunting for evidence of where it belonged, could she?
Why not? Captain was out for the day, and Bessie was gone visiting. Neither would return for a few hours. She had nothing else to do until the shirts dried.
It was just her and the Bible.
With trembling hands, Sarah turned to the beginning and searched for the familiar words. “In the beginning God created …”
The fingertips of her right hand lingered on the words. The small indentations where the letters pressed into the thin paper nestled against her skin as if they belonged there.
God’s Word. This was what her sister, Captain, and Bessie, and so many others as well, put their trust in. Fragile words printed on delicate paper.
“The Word of the Lord stands forever.”
Sarah shook her head. “Now where did those words come from?”
The memory crept slowly to mind. It was from a sermon the Moravian missionary David Zeisberger had preached—on a fine fall day filled with laughter, sunshine, and friends—just after the group arrived at the site where they would build their wilderness mission.
“The Lord knows your sorrow, knows your pain, but He can only take your burden if you let Him.”
Who was that? Levi’s mother, who did not yet know her only son had passed on. Sarah brushed away the drops that slipped down her cheeks and splotched the tiny letters.
“Stop crying,” she chided herself. “Tears don’t solve anything. All they do is pull my heart into my throat and make me feel as if the whole world is collapsing around me.”
Sarah pressed a thumb and forefinger between her eyes and took a deep breath. Feeling composed, she turned the pages one at a time, renewing her search for something that identified where the tiny remnant of hair belonged.
Jeremiah listened as his sister argued with Rufe in the outer office. Shortly after her move to Washington County, Bessie began coming by daily. She claimed the exercise and fresh air were good for her health, but Jeremiah suspected she really wanted to check on him.
Jeremiah knew he should go out to greet Bessie, but Shade’s latest delivery lay on the table, an unpleasant reminder of the newest task Jeremiah had been given.
“I am here to see Jeremiah.” Bessie’s loud announcement drew Jeremiah’s thoughts back to the present.
“Lieutenant Stewart is busy, ma’am,” Rufe replied. “He left orders not to be disturbed.”
“But I am his sister. Surely he can see me.”
Though Rufe was captivated by Bessie’s outgoing personality, the clerk did as Jeremiah had ordered. “I am sorry, ma’am, but the lieutenant said—”
“I have some important business with my brother,” Bessie interrupted. “I demand that you let me in.”
Jeremiah envisioned Bessie leaning over the desk, her crazy curls falling around her shoulders and her bright eyes glaring at Rufe. It was almost enough to lighten his foul mood.
“I am sorry,” Rufe began again, “but Lieutenant Stewart said no one was to interrupt him. In fact, Gemma was here earlier and he even refused to see her. Hey! You cannot go in there!”
“Jer?”
Jeremiah slowly raised his gaze. “Hello, Bess. And Samuel. How are you?” It was all he could do to keep his voice from breaking.
“Miah!” Samuel gave him a sprightly smile.
For the sake of the child, Jeremiah grinned back. “Hello, scout. Are you making sure my sister gets here safely?”
“I am,” Samuel replied. He sauntered a few steps closer to Jeremiah.
“That is good,” Jeremiah said. “I am glad you came with Bessie. Did your mama come along, too?”
Despite a constant hope that she would, Sarah rarely accompanied Bessie. If Sarah did, she went to the trading post while Bessie visited with Jeremiah.
“She wash shirts so she can buy me candy,” Samuel explained.
“That is right,” Jeremiah said without thinking.
“Jer? How did you …” Bessie began. Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You?”
Jeremiah nodded, hoping the young boy did not follow their conversation.
“Why did you not tell—”
“I am glad you stopped by,” Jeremiah interrupted. “Can I walk you home?”
He sent Bessie a silent plea with his eyes that said, Please don’t ask me to explain why I didn’t let Sarah know it was my laundry.
“Sure thing. Are you ready to go, Samuel?”
Samuel looked up. “Now?”
“Yes. Jeremiah is going to walk with us.”
“He stay and eat with me?”
Before either Bessie or Jeremiah could answer, Samuel raced out the door. He sprinted ahead down the path, stopping to point out moss growing on the base of some trees and giggling at a squirrel scolding them from the branches overhead. Sunshine filled a cloudless sky, and as they walked, Bessie tucked her hand around Jeremiah’s elbow.
“Go on, big brother. You might as well tell me what is bothering you.”
“A spot of bad news, Bessie. That is all I can say.”
“I have not seen you this upset since … I wish Captain were not out on his circuit. He would know what to say to you.”
Jeremiah was sure Bessie had been about to refer to his behavior when he found out about their mother. It would be nice if Captain were here, but he wasn’t. Jeremiah wanted the Whelp family to know what he’d learned before others from the community found out. The dismal burden pressed against his heart.
“I am sure Captain would be a big help,” Jeremiah said, “but since he is not here, and neither is Colonel Williamson, this is something I must handle.”
Jeremiah wasn’t looking forward to taking the news of the major’s death to his family. He hadn’t liked the way Dan Whelp had pushed people around, but the man’s earthly l
ife was gone—snuffed out by a wayward arrow in the heat of conflict, for the little good that would do his widow.
Bessie studied him with a younger sister’s patience. “It is about the war, is it not?”
“Look, Bess. I know you mean well, but—”
“If you promise you will pray, you do not have to walk us the rest of the way,” she said.
I want to go with you, Jeremiah thought. I want to see Sarah. And it will keep me from having to face Mrs. Whelp until I figure out what I’m going to say to her.
“Seems as if I have been doing nothing but praying since I got this job,” he admitted.
“Say no more.” Bessie patted his arm.
Jeremiah wasn’t quite ready to be alone. “How long do you reckon it is before your young’un is due?”
“Another couple of months. Why?”
“I thought I would write Pa. Perhaps he would like to know.”
Bessie studied Jeremiah’s face. “Pa is a survivor, Jer, just like us. He always told us we cannot stumble if we are on our knees.”
Jeremiah nodded. There wasn’t anything else to say.
Chapter 8
Bessie waited until Samuel hugged his mother and went off in search of his blocks. “Would you say all that again? I must have missed something.”
Sarah repeated her story. “I tried to go back through a page at a time to find out where this tuft of hair went.”
Bessie gave the item a quick glimpse. “It is not the Bible I am worried about, Sarah. It is you. You look different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I do not know, but something about you has changed.”
Sarah sought something else in the room to look at besides Bessie. She thought she knew what Bessie was referring to. As she’d leafed through the Bible, occasional passages had grabbed her attention, reminding her of the times when God’s Word had soothed her troubled heart. Since she’d lost Levi, believing was so hard to do.
Sarah held up the lock of hair again. “I thought perhaps you could tell me where it belongs. I will return it to its rightful place, and I promise never again to pick up that Bible.”
The Memory of Love Page 21
