by Lisa Harris
“I’m not naive, Mrs. Johnson.” Lidia shook her head. “Loving me would never be enough motivation for him to forgive Jarek.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. God has ways of bringing healing that we could never imagine. I’m always here for you if you need to talk. I know I can’t take the place of your mother, but I can certainly be a friend.”
Sensing the genuineness behind Mrs. Johnson’s words, tears welled in Lidia’s eyes. Things might never work out between her and Adam, but that didn’t diminish the gratefulness she felt for God putting them together with this family.
Baby Daria cried from inside the house, and Mrs. Johnson moved toward the front door. “She was supposed to be asleep. If you’ll excuse me—”
“You have guests.” Lidia followed behind. “I don’t mind checking on her.”
“Are you sure?” Mrs. Johnson turned to her.
“It’s no problem at all.”
“Very well, then.” A grin crossed the older woman’s face. “I do need to check on Mr. Wentworth. Widow Sharp has her mark set for him, and last time I saw him, his face was as flushed as a ripe tomato.”
Lidia laughed. In her short time on the farm, she’d heard of the Johnsons’ nearby neighbor, Widow Sharp, who even at the age of eighty-two was determined to marry again despite the fact that she’d already buried four husbands.
“One more thing before you go inside.” Mrs. Johnson grasped Lidia’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You’re a lovely young woman. I have no doubt that not only did God bring you into our family for a purpose but also that He has something, maybe even someone, very special in mind for you and your future.”
Lidia wanted to believe her, but she had no illusions that life always ended happily ever after. Still, the Bible did promise that God could work all things together for good. All she could do was to pray that was exactly what He was doing.
Adam set his empty plate down on the table and scanned the lively crowd for Lidia. Social events like this made him want to get out his fishing pole and find a quiet spot away from it all. Having Lidia here made him even more uncomfortable. The sight of her talking to his stepmother earlier had caught him off guard. No matter how his emotions spun inside, he couldn’t deny how beautiful she looked tonight. The pale green dress she wore, while modest, accentuated her figure and left him with an impulsive longing to gather her into his arms and kiss her once again beneath the silvery moonlight.
He didn’t understand the intense draw he felt toward her. He knew plenty of pretty women, even beautiful ones, but they’d never caused his heart to race at such a rapid pace or his dreams to be constantly flooded with their presence.
Standing in the shadows beyond the reach of the light from the bonfire, he watched his sister Sarah’s face light up with laughter as she ate another pickle. Sometimes it seemed that his own carefree days had vanished forever. Life had become all too serious. He missed the times when he had been able to laugh for no reason at all. When he didn’t feel as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Mr. Wentworth, with Widow Sharp on his arm, ambled in Adam’s direction. Judging by the firm grip Widow Sharp had on Mr. Wentworth, there was no doubt that she had set her sights on yet another potential husband. Adam quickly slipped around the edge of the festivities and into the house. Perhaps he should have tried to rescue the timid farmer, but such attempts would no doubt do little to discourage Widow Sharp. And listening to her rambling talk of the weather and her seventeen grandchildren wasn’t something Adam felt up to at the moment.
Inside, the house was quiet compared to the events going on outside. Everyone, it seemed, was content to enjoy the crisp night air and the festivities and food that went along with the annual sugaring off.
Away from the laughter and the serenade of the fiddle, a quiet lullaby reached his ears. Across the open living area, his littlest sister cooed contentedly, and he could see the silhouette of someone sitting in the rocking chair, gently lulling her back to sleep.
“Mother?”
The figure turned toward him. “Adam?”
A yellow glow from the crackling flames that radiated within the stone fireplace caught Lidia’s profile and like a magnet drew him a step closer. “I … I didn’t know you were in here.”
The rhythmic sway of the rocking chair squeaked softly beneath her. “Daria was crying, and I told your stepmother I’d come check on her. I think she’s about to drift off again, though with all the noise filtering in from outside, it’s hard to believe she’s able to sleep at all.”
He shuffled his feet, the awkwardness growing between them, then cleared his throat. “Are you having a good time tonight?”
She ran her thumb across the back of the baby’s head. “It brings back many good memories of when my parents were alive. The annual sugaring off was one of our favorite times of the year.”
“Tell me about them.” He perched on the edge of an upholstered stool across from her, thankful that the shadows of the room masked her expression. He was afraid of what he might find within the depths of her eyes.
“My parents?”
“You’ve told me about how they died, but there must be much to tell about how they lived.”
The woodsy scent of the burning logs filled his lungs, as he stared into the yellow and orange flames. “Where we come from in Poland is very poor and overpopulated.” Her voice sounded surprised at his question, but not as surprised as he was at himself for drawing out their conversation. “My parents were blessed to be literate, but the majority of my people are not. They saw this country as a place where they could give their children a better life. And not simply material things, but freedom.” She paused a moment, as if she wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear what she was saying.
“Go on. Please.”
The creaking of the rocker slowed as she began to speak again. “My parents were hard workers who took whatever jobs they could find. While we lived in Boston, my mother worked as a seamstress, and my father, who had been a farmer in Poland, did everything from carpentry work to manual labor. They loved us, taught us to work hard, and put God first.”
Lidia’s voice quivered, and he wondered if she wasn’t thinking of how her brother had rebelled against their parents’ belief system. It must have hurt her family deeply to know what Jarek had done when all they’d wanted was a fresh start in life.
One of the logs burning in the fireplace popped, and Daria started crying. Lidia drew the toddler toward her and started singing again. Adam fidgeted with one of his cuffs as he listened to the sweet clarity of her voice.
His little sister took a deep breath and settled peacefully in Lidia’s arms. If only Lidia didn’t have an effect on him. Then his heart wouldn’t have to wrestle with letting her go.
“I’d better leave.” He stood quietly, not wanting to wake the child—or deal anymore with his own roiling emotions. “I need to go and find Ruby and Anna. I promised them I’d sample the syrup with them.”
“Adam, wait.”
He turned back around to face her.
“I know I have no right to say anything to you about what has happened between us, but I can’t help it.”
“Then don’t, please.” He couldn’t bear to hear her say that she cared for him, because no matter what his own heart might feel, there would always be a wall between them. He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither could he allow himself to continue something that he knew would never work.
Lidia shook her head. “This isn’t about you and me, and what might have happened between us if the circumstances were different.”
His jaw tensed. “Then what is it about?”
“It’s about what happened between our families. It’s about you getting on with your life and letting go of the bitterness you feel toward me, my brother … toward all of us. My people are no different from yours. While some of us make mistakes, all we want is what is best for our families—political and religious freedom, and a place to call home.�
��
At that he simply turned and left. His heels thudded against the wooden floor. He wanted to lash back at her, tell her that she was wrong. That he wasn’t prejudiced toward her or her people, but in his heart he knew she was right. He longed to be the man God would have him be, but the emotions raging within him were like consuming fires as his conscience battled against the truth.
What would she think if she knew he’d talked to the sheriff about her brother? No doubt she’d feel betrayed. But he still believed he was right to seek justice for his family.
What if my desire for justice in turn ruins another family?
He cringed at the unwelcome thought and wondered when life had become so complicated. But there was more to the story than Lidia knew. More than anyone knew. That was why he couldn’t let go of the past and be with Lidia. And why he would never forgive himself for what had really happened the day his brother Samuel was killed.
ten
Adam pounded the last nail into the roof of the sugarhouse, then climbed back down the wooden ladder. Last night’s storm had managed to loosen a number of the cedar shingles from both the sugarhouse and the roof of his cabin. Thankfully, the damage had been minimal, saving him from losing valuable time on more repairs.
Stepping off the last rung of the ladder, he paused to look out across his land. Winter’s snow had melted away, leaving behind a green collage of ridges and valleys that blended into the woodlands in the distance. Besides the damage to the roofs and a few broken limbs, there were no obvious signs of the spring gale that had passed through overnight. Instead, the sun’s rays bathed the land in its brilliant light.
He reached up to adjust the brim of his hat against its glare. His dreams for this farm went far beyond the sugar maple grove that stood in anticipation of next winter’s harvest.
He had plans to expand the brick foundation of the house, adding extra rooms with hardwood floors and a large window to capture the view of the sloping hills that eventually led to the Connecticut River in the west.
To the east, he wanted to build a twelve-stall horse barn with a riding ring, as well as fenced-in pastures for cattle.
With horses as the principal means of transport, breeding would ensure a steady source of income in addition to cultivating the rest of his acreage. Working the maple grove had given him his first real taste of what hard work could accomplish, and he knew he wanted more.
Already the crystallized blocks of maple sugar that would later be broken up or shaved had been poured into wooden molds, ready for the buyer who would arrive tomorrow. Glass syrup jugs were lined up, as well, filled to the top with the sweet liquid and ready to be sold in the surrounding stores all the way from Cranton to Springfield.
He had decided to give Lidia and her brother a portion of the profits, knowing if it weren’t for their hard work he would have lost the majority of this year’s harvest. While her financial standing had no doubt improved because of her new position on his parents’ farm, he knew that the extra savings would help.
At the thought of her, Lidia’s image flashed in front of him. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able forget her. Seeing her face in the recesses of his mind reminded him of something else. What good were all his plans if he couldn’t share them with someone? Was his anger and guilt worth the price of living alone? Without Lidia?
Hooking the ladder back on the wall of the sugarhouse, he bit back the questions. There were plenty of other women who would be more than willing to share a life with him. Two Sundays ago he’d been introduced to Silvia Dolny. From his short conversation with her, she had not only seemed to be intelligent but possessed a sense of humor, as well. She certainly wasn’t lacking in good looks, either. Her hair was the color of honey, her complexion perfect … and not once had he thought of her until today.
Why hadn’t it been that easy to forget Lidia … and the anger that separated them? Tool bucket in hand, Adam made his way back toward the house. Last night at the sugaring off, Lidia’s pointed words had struck their mark somewhere deep inside him. Who was she to confront him when she knew little of what had really happened that day?
The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.
The toe of his boot struck a rock, and he kicked it off the dirt path. He’d read the verse from James last night, knowing that he’d lived far too long wrapped up in his own anger and bitterness. He felt like Jacob who in the Old Testament had wrestled with God as he fought to lay aside his own anger, hurt, and guilt. Adam had lain awake half the night trying to come to terms with not only his own prejudices toward others but his guilt, as well.
He’d also read through the ninth chapter of Romans as his father had suggested. The passage had opened his eyes to another side of God’s character. Paul said that God was not unjust, but instead, in order to make the riches of His glory known, He chose whom to be merciful to and whom to have compassion on. Had God, who saw beyond Adam’s own human viewpoint, had a greater plan in mind when He chose not to save Samuel that day?
“Adam!”
Pulled from his heavy thoughts, Adam glanced up the windy road that led into town. Thirteen-year-old Sarah drove the wagon toward him, sandwiched in between Ruby and Anna, who were bouncing in their seats. Living alone on the farm had taken time to get used to. The church he attended had blessed him with a number of friends, but hard work on the surrounding farms made socializing for many of them few and far during the busy times of the year. While he enjoyed the peace away from his younger siblings’ squabbles, it was always a treat to have visitors—especially family.
Ruby clasped her hands together once Sarah had stopped the wagon in front of him. “We brought you something, Adam.”
Adam swung Ruby down from the buckboard, then proceeded to help Anna. Sarah had already climbed down on the other side, a sly grin on her lips.
“It’s a surprise.” Anna jumped up and down, hardly able to contain her excitement.
Ruby grabbed both of his hands and spun him around. “Guess.”
“Guess what?”
“What we have for you.”
Sarah picked up a large basket, then joined them beside the wagon. The forlorn howl of a puppy sounded from the basket.
“No fair.” Ruby stomped her feet. “Now you know.”
“And all this time I’d thought you brought me lunch.”
Sarah handed him the basket. “Be glad I didn’t cook anything for you.”
Adam laughed. Sarah was known in the family for her love of animals, not her domestic qualities.
Ruby leaned in beside him. “Daisy had puppies a few weeks ago, and we decided you needed one. No farmer can be without a dog.”
Adam cautiously opened the lid, not sure of what he was in for. The yellow dog, with ears almost as big as his head, jumped up and licked him across the side of the face.
The girls broke out into a chorus of laughter.
“He likes you,” Anna cooed.
“I don’t know if I’ve got time for a puppy.” Adam stared out across the open field waiting to be plowed and planted, but the grin never left his face.
“Of course you do.” Ruby buried her face in the puppy’s coat and wiggled her head as it continued licking.
“I thought puppies were a lot of work,” Adam said. “And trouble.”
“Only when they chew on Pa’s shoes.”
Adam ruffled Ruby’s dark hair. “Sounds like words from experience.”
The girls began to spew out their defense, sprinkled with words of advice for caring for a puppy.
“Hold on here.” Adam took the puppy out of the basket and held it up in front of him. “I suppose we ought to come up with a name for him if I decide to keep him.”
“What about Fluffy?”
“That’s not bad.” Adam mulled over Anna’s idea. “He definitely is a ball of fur.”
“What about Max?”
“Or Matilda.”
“Matilda?” Adam choked back a laugh at Ruby’s suggestion. “R
eminds me more of someone’s portly aunt than a puppy.”
Anna reached up to scratch the dog’s ear. “Lidia suggested Star. She adores puppies, just like we do.”
Adam’s jaw tensed. Had she remembered the night he kissed her under the stars when she suggested that name, or had she managed to put what had happened between them behind her? Judging from the admiration shining in Anna’s brown eyes, Lidia had obviously captured the hearts of his family.
“Look at his back end.” Ruby turned the dog around despite its nipping at her hand. “There’s a spot that looks like a little white star.”
“It’s a nice name,” Sarah said. “I think you should pick that one.”
Adam swallowed hard, wishing that he could forget Lidia but doubting that was possible. “Sounds like you’ve got a name then, Star. But you’re not going to be any trouble now, are you?”
Star simply yipped, then proceeded to wet down the front of Adam’s freshly laundered shirt.
Lidia closed her father’s worn copy of Nature by Ralph Waldo Emerson and filled her lungs with the fresh spring air. With her regular morning chores complete in the house, Mrs. Johnson had insisted Lidia go outside to enjoy one of the season’s first warm days until it was time to start preparing the evening meal. Glancing at the small watch pinned to her dress, she stood up quickly. She’d been so engrossed in the book, she hadn’t realized how much time had passed, and the last thing she wanted to do was take advantage of her new employer’s generosity. There was always plenty of ironing and washing needing to be done at the house, and frittering the day away wouldn’t help to accomplish any of it.
Even though the distraction had been pleasant, it hadn’t been enough to rid her of her thoughts of Adam. The girls had gone to his farm this morning to take him one of Daisy’s new puppies and had insisted she join them for the excursion. The thought of seeing Adam again made her uneasy, so she had managed to find a way to persuade them to go without her.
