by DiAnn Mills
Aye, I’m sure the Lord is pleased with ye. Always I see ye strive to serve Him. What a worthy mother ye will make someday. I pray He allows ye to be the mother of our children.
Shortly after midnight, Henry added another log to the fire and studied Delight’s face. No longer did color tinge her cheeks and perspiration bead upon her forehead. Elated, he touched her cheek. Coolness met his fingertips.
“Praise God,” he whispered. He stared into her lovely features. “Charity, wake up. The fever’s broken.”
Immediately Delight’s sister sat upright and confirmed Henry’s words. “It is a blessing,” she whispered, “a real blessing.”
Delight opened her eyes and glanced about, obviously confused by her whereabouts.
“We’re in a farmhouse, lass,” he said. “How are ye feeling?”
She took a deep breath. “I was having the most beautiful dream, then voices woke me.” She attempted a smile. “I gather I’ve been ill.”
“Not for too long,” Henry reported. “But long enough to cause us a scare.”
“Forgive me.” She swallowed with difficulty. “My throat aches, and I have a horrible taste in my mouth.”
“The taste is the herbs,” Charity said. “And tea will help soothe the pain in your throat.”
Delight stared into Henry’s face with a tender smile. “Someday I’ll tell you about my dream. … For now, I’d like to sleep.”
Two days later, Henry, Charity, and Delight climbed into the wagon and said good-bye to Rachel and Horace Henderson. Henry wanted Delight to rest another day, but she insisted on traveling home.
“I can rest in the back of the wagon as easily as I can here.” Nothing could convince her otherwise, and she used her stubborn nature to its fullest.
Rachel hugged her tightly. “I pray you will be stronger than ever before.”
Delight felt tears well up in her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done.”
“It was a true blessing,” the old woman said. She leaned to whisper in Delight’s ear. “Henry is a good man. You might consider marriage. He is quite devoted.”
Warmth spread through her. “I promise.”
The wagon wheels crunched into a fairly heavy coating of snow as the horses ambled down the road. The whitewashed countryside and ice-laden trees painted an air of serenity against the stark blue sky. If the weather stayed crisp and not bitter cold, they could very well be home before the next snowfall. Delight felt exhilarated, ignoring her weakened condition and a dull headache that plagued her like a pesky fly in the heat of August.
Gratefulness to be alive soared through her veins, or did her renewed spirit extend from her love for Henry? In any event, she was eager to resume their journey home. Yet in the same breath, she knew home also represented the growing nearness of Henry’s departure. Sadness descended upon her. She refused to think of life without him. She would cling to the memory of her fevered dreams.
In them, she and Henry had a home of their own in a rolling countryside filled with green pastures and pastel wildflowers. The two walked through the fields hand in hand while in the distance children squealed with laughter and called to “Mama” and “Papa.” What a lovely, sweet dream. She and Henry, a part of God’s divine plan.
“Horace shook me hand,” Henry said, glancing back at her with a smile wider than the Atlantic.
“Did he say any parting words?” Charity said.
“Only to stop for a visit if we were in this area again.”
Charity shook her head. “Delight, his treatment of us when we first arrived was appalling. And I thought King George would tear Henry to pieces.”
“Glad I slept through it, but I am so sorry you two were exposed to his bad manners and his monster dog on my account.”
“I’d do it again.” Henry lifted the reins and coaxed the horses a little faster down the road.
“Why is that?” Charity said in her familiar lilt.
Charity, will you ever cease wrapping every statement you utter around Henry and me?
He chuckled. “My good leg of course. I don’t want to face Elijah and Mistress Butler’s wrath.”
They shared a good bit of teasing all morning long. The weather warmed, and the snow melted. Deer bounded across the road, their grace and spirit reminding Delight of Mercy and Hope at play. She missed her sisters and wanted to be home. There was no doubt that only the push of God would cause her to endeavor a lengthy wagon journey again. She felt a burst of energy.
“I am strong enough to drive,” Delight said the second morning after leaving the Hendersons. With the provisions Rachel had given them, they’d had a filling breakfast and felt an eagerness to put miles behind them.
“I think not,” Henry said. “When ye drove before your illness, ye hit so many ruts I feared the gunpowder would explode.”
“I believe Charity drove then.”
Charity tossed her a knowing look. “You are mistaken, Delight. I remember how I attempted to sleep between the barrels and realized I had either broken all my bones or my body was permanently bruised.”
Delight did not recall their reporting the incidents quite the same way at the time, but it made for lively conversation. Anything to keep her mind diverted from the nearness of the moment when Henry would leave for the war. In the deep recesses of her mind, while she battled the fever, she thought he’d sat by her side and told her of his love. She sought to mention it to Charity and inquire as to the authenticity of her memory. The risk of appearing foolish always stopped her. During the time of the fever, she had experienced difficulty differentiating between her dreams and what truly happened, although her sister would not make light of it at all.
“Nevertheless, I’m so tired of this wagon. Can I please ride on the bench for a while?”
Charity wiggled her shoulders, and Delight knew she had conjured the perfect reply. “Henry, do you mind if I drive?” She whirled around to her sister. “Do forgive me, I misunderstood. You must want to ride beside Henry, not me.”
When we are home again, I will not be revengeful, Delight thought, but I will find ways to torment you out of love. “Charity, you plague me worse than a nest of angry bees.”
“I learned well from my older sister. Henry, I do hope you don’t mind. Delight wants to be near you for a change of landscape.”
Most assuredly you speak the truth, but Charity, please, you do not have to inform him of the matter.
Henry brought the horses to a halt. He helped Charity into the wagon bed and extended his assistance to Delight. As soon as his fingers touched hers and grasped her hand, she caught the familiar tenderness in his gaze and the smile he offered only to her. Suddenly the first and then the second time he kissed her danced across her mind, leaving her weak in the knees and trembling to the touch.
“Aye, lass, ye are still not well. I feel ye trembling.” His hands seized her waist and lifted her to the wagon bench.
“Nonsense, I am quite strong.”
Once they were on the road again, she did note her spirit felt exhilarated at sitting next to him.
“Do you think we could discuss a few important matters?” he said.
How can we with Charity straining to hear every whisper? She stole a glance and saw he peered down the road as if concentrating on every melting flake of snow. “Of course. Before you begin, I am most grateful for your kind care during my illness.”
“Ye are most welcome, lass. Charity’s and your safekeeping had been entrusted to me, and I gave me word to your parents.”
Did his voice crack or was it her imagination? “What are the pressing matters you speak of?”
He sighed. “I believe you already know.” He glanced at Charity, and she slid to the back of the wagon and allowed her feet to dangle over the side.
Thank you, sister. This may be our only opportunity to … to converse about private matters. Delight clasped her hands in an effort to hide her nervousness. “Continue, Henry.”
From the
corner of her eye, she saw his chest and shoulders rise with a deep breath. “I’ve thought about this at great length.” His gaze swung to her. “Do … do ye have affections for me that are strong enough to last … until the Lord calls us home?”
Chapter 19
The illumination in Henry’s eyes must have marveled the gates of heaven. Delight had dreamed, even seen a glimpse of that special radiance, but this brilliance far surpassed her deepest wishes.
“Do you not know?” she managed through a ragged breath.
“I’ve hoped and prayed for that very thing.”
“I care for you. I care very much.” Her heart beat fiercely. Her stomach fluttered as though a myriad of butterflies had suddenly taken flight.
“Dare it be love?” His face grew ghastly pale, and he dragged his tongue over his lips. “Delight, I do love ye.”
A small cry escaped her lips, and her eyes filled with joyous tears. “And I love you.”
He pulled in the reins and set the brake. His hands shook so he could barely complete the task. In the next instant he drew her into his arms. “It seems I’ve waited a lifetime to hear ye repeat those words—words sweeter than honey.”
She lifted her face to meet his, silently begging for a kiss to seal the love bubbling inside her. He did not disappoint. Henry’s lips claimed hers lightly. But with the fervency of the moment, the kiss deepened, and she eagerly responded. Her hands reached for his neck, and she raked her fingers through the mass of copper-colored hair.
He finally pulled himself from her. “Thank ye for letting me speak me heart.”
Delight knew she had to be completely honest. “I am afraid, Henry. I’m fearful of the war and of your not returning. I could not bear living without you.”
He touched his finger to her cheek. “I know, me Delight. But God has a span of time for each of us. He’s marked our days, and there is nothing we can do to alter His plan. I promise I will do what is noble and right for our country and, God willing, return to you.”
Oh Father, this apprehension of mine has kept me from loving Henry totally in my heart. Guard him, I beg of Thee. “I sense my trust in God faltering each time I think of you. I am so sorry.”
He offered a slight smile. “I’ve read it in your eyes, and I will continue to pray for our Father’s peace.”
“Are you two finished with all your whisperings?” Charity called from the rear of the wagon.
Startled, Delight realized she had momentarily forgotten her sister’s presence. “Probably not.” She laughed.
“From the lack of conversation, I am assuming you two are engaged once more in a kiss,” Charity continued. “I refuse to look for fear I might be embarrassed.”
“Most assuredly.” Henry chuckled. He took Delight’s hand into his and kissed it.
“Papa and Mama will hear of this.” Charity giggled. “After all, I am the chaperone.”
“I shall be the first to tell.” Henry’s familiar wide smile broke across his rugged features. “In fact, I will shout it to all the world.” He winked at Delight. “I love Delight Butler,” he shouted. “I love the most fair lass in the whole world, and she loves me!”
Hours later they still chatted away, their conversation floating from one topic to another, but always with enthusiasm.
“When we have some privacy, I will ask ye to marry me,” Henry whispered.
“And what if I should ask you?” Delight tingled from head to toe from his attentions. She attempted to look serious, yet a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, ye are a modern lass,” he said. “Shall I beware of finding us alone?”
“You two are properly suited,” Charity called from the wagon bed. “I can recall a time not so long ago when you loathed each other.”
“’Twas a mere disguise of love,” Henry said.
“I think you should wed the same day we return to Chesterfield,” her sister said.
Delight felt her heart slam against her chest. As elated as she felt, a wedding could not take place until the war had ended. She refused to be a widow. Nay, they should wait until peace blanketed the land. Lifting her gaze, she saw Henry studying her curiously.
Henry, do not take Charity seriously. It is … impossible. “We cannot wed until after the war,” she said softly.
A grim sadness captured her. In a moment, his happiness seemed to vanish. I’ve hurt him, but surely he can see how foolhardy it would be to do otherwise.
Henry kept both hands on the reins and gripped them hard. Masking this disappointment was one of the hardest feats he’d ever attempted. Like a giddy young man, he had assumed Delight felt the same commitment as he and would marry him this very day if possible, but her vision of marriage lay in the future. The thought pained him greatly, and he fought hard to recover his former enthusiasm.
I’m being selfish. If I were killed, she’d be a widow. I don’t want a lonely life for her.
“Of course, that would be utmost, lass. We can have a wonderful wedding with all of your family after the war.”
“Splendid.” She snuggled close to him and linked her arm in his. “For a moment, I feared you to be unhappy with me.”
“The war could last a very long time. Perhaps another year,” Charity called from the back.
Even longer, and every day would be miserable without my beloved to come home to. I’d agree to anything to keep her.
Delight abruptly straightened. “Surely not, sister. With the British defeated at the Battle of Saratoga, we must be facing mere months.”
“What do you think, Henry?” Charity said. “Could you and Papa be home in so short a time?”
He carefully formed his words, not wanting to dishearten the women but believing there were many battles yet to fight before the British granted freedom to America. “Lasses, Saratoga is in New York. What of the South? Thirteen colonies exist where other British and American soldiers will battle. General Washington has a grand plan, I am sure, but things of this nature take time.”
Silence echoed around him. Guilt assailed him for forcing reality into their tender hearts. “I did not mean to upset you,” he finally said.
“You spoke the truth,” Charity said. “James, with all of his zeal and enthusiasm, says the same.”
“I do not agree with you.” Delight slung the words as though pitching soiled straw from a barn. “We may not have fancy uniforms or generals of nobility, but we have the cloak of truth.”
“Truth is certain,” Henry said. “But the cause takes time, effort—and the blood of men to lead it to victory.”
Defiance etched her face. “Perhaps you do not truly harbor freedom and liberty in your soul.”
“And perhaps ye do not really know me at all.”
Four days more, and the wagon rumbled over the outskirts of Chesterfield. Delight no longer felt exhilarated in the return, for she and Henry had not spoken since their disagreement. Anything she wished to convey to him was spoken through Charity. To her frustration, Henry acted as though nothing uncomfortable existed between them. Delight knew her childish behavior needed to stop, but her pride interfered. She wanted to apologize sincerely, but the words refused to come.
When she looked back on it, she realized she’d hurt him twice—first in her refusal to marry him before he enlisted and second in questioning his allegiance. Charity had scolded her severely, then hugged her and told her she loved her. Her sister was disappointed, and rightfully so. Henry was distressed and Delight shouldered all the blame.
Why can’t I simply say I was wrong? Have I not learned anything from scripture?
A horrible thought sickened her. What if Henry should be hurt or killed in the days ahead, and she had not mended the problem between them? What if he became so disillusioned with her argumentative spirit that he found another woman to ease his wounded heart? She resolved to wait not a moment longer. Already the last house in Chesterfield came into view. From there, they would soon reach home, and from there would come his enl
istment.
“Henry,” she said meekly from the back of the wagon.
“Aye.” His tone balanced between cordial and impersonal.
“I want to say—”
Charity gasped. “Are those British soldiers in the distance?”
He pulled the wagon to a halt. “Lass, I believe ye are right.”
Delight rose to her feet as the sum of her nightmares came within her view. Redcoated uniforms glittered in the afternoon sun, reminding her of blood shed for the cause of liberty. “Henry, you must run before they find you.”
Charity grabbed the reins from him. “Yes, don’t let them see you.”
He whirled his gaze to Delight, his look filled with the love he had hidden for the past four days.
“Please, go.” Delight reached to touch his shoulder, but the horses took a step and jolted the wagon. He steadied her, his touch scorching her flesh.
“Go with him,” Charity said. “Now, before they see how many of us are in the wagon. I can take care of myself.”
Delight needed no more urging and swung her leg over the side while Henry jumped to the ground. Grabbing his musket, Henry grasped Delight’s hand, and the two raced toward the woods. She wondered about his injured leg, but for the present it didn’t slow him.
God help us!
“Do you see them?” she said breathlessly, afraid to peer behind. One hand clung to Henry’s, and the other held her skirts. Desperation and fear riddled her senses.
“Nay, but they will surely inquire of Charity. I believe they are looking for me.”
Alarm seized her. “Will they harm her?” They raced into thick underbrush, where she stopped to gain her breath. Henry studied the wagon and soldiers.
“I think not. They have no reason to suspect anything amiss.” He paused. “She has just met up with them.”
Delight scurried to view the scene. “I am sorely worried about her.”
“Do not worry about your sister. She is stronger than she appears.”
A remembrance of the past weeks danced across her mind. Charity had amazed her on more than one occasion with her cleverness and gumption. “I comprehend what you are saying. I’ve seen and felt an inner strength that I greatly admire.”
