Christmas at Harmony Hill

by Ann H. Gabhart

  She was walking. She had faced many things more trying than this walk through the Shaker village. The Lord would give her strength. Hadn’t he already supplied this plan? Not only supplied it, but planted it in her mother’s mind and the mind of this woman who looked so like her mother. Heather had not expected that. A gift and a sorrow at the same time to see her mother’s eyes watching her with curious kindness from this stranger’s face.

  Not a stranger. Your aunt. Family. Her mother’s voice whispered inside her mind as if she were walking along beside Heather. Hadn’t she promised she would always be with Heather? No matter what happened.

  After the large buildings they had passed, the cabin looked very small nestled there on the edge of the village. But smoke was curling up out of the chimney. A man was carrying wood up the steps into the cabin. Her aunt stopped walking and put her hand on Heather’s arm.

  “We will wait here until Brother Henry has finished supplying us with wood. It would not be proper to disturb his work. But it is good the elders sent him ahead of us so there will be warmth inside for you.”

  “Is there an outhouse?” Calls of nature had been a constant problem during her time with the army, especially after she was in the family way. Heather looked around, hoping the privy would not be too distant.

  “Yea, the sisters’ privy at the Gathering House is not far. Come, I’ll show you.”

  The outhouse looked to have been recently swept out. Not one cobweb dripped down forgotten from the top corners.

  Back at the cabin, Sophrena ushered her inside where the fire burning brightly in the fireplace spoke of home. The two rooms were small with only the barest furnishings. Chairs like those in the house she’d just come from were pushed up to a plain table in the middle of the front room. Shelves on the back wall held a few dishes and round boxes but no books. A cupboard sat in the corner and a sewing rocker was next to the fire. The adjoining room held two narrow beds, a chest, and a washstand. A fire also burned in the bedroom’s fireplace. Another rocker sat next to that fire. Candles waited on the mantels ready to hold back the night.

  Sophrena ushered Heather to the chair in front of the fire, then looked uncertain, even a bit uneasy. “Or perhaps you should lie down.”

  Heather wondered if her aunt might already be regretting her offer of help that promised to take her from the life she’d been living.

  “I’m fine, Aunt Sophrena,” Heather said, even though her head felt heavy on her shoulders and the thought of lying down did sound wonderful. She wouldn’t want Sophrena to think she had no manners. Besides, she felt too dirty to lie down on the white covers of the bed she’d glimpsed in the other room. Perhaps she could rest in the chair and then wash before night.

  Her nightclothes in her valise were still clean from her last washtubs before she started home.

  “Aunt Sophrena,” Sophrena echoed her words. “Your mother sometimes called me that when we were girls. She thought it funny that I could be her aunt and only a little older than she. But I never thought to hear anyone call me that after I came to the Shakers.” She pulled one of the straight chairs away from the table and scooted it over in front of the fire beside Heather before she sat down. “We are all sisters here.”

  “Then should I call you Sister Sophrena?”

  Sophrena stared at the fire a long moment before she answered, “Yea, that might be best. But it had a sweet sound when you said aunt. A tempting sound.”

  “Tempting?” Heather frowned over at her, but Sophrena didn’t notice. She was still staring into the fire. “I don’t understand.”

  “Nor do I.” Her aunt sighed. “Nor do I.”

  “You won’t have to stay with me all the time, Sister Sophrena.” Heather hesitated a bit before speaking the name, but she would get used to it. Aunt Sophrena had sat oddly on her tongue as well. She went on. “I am capable of taking care of myself. I am just weary from the trip home and my concerns for my husband.”

  “I told you to worry not about my time, child. I must do what the Ministry says. It is the way of the Believer to be obedient.” She smiled over at Heather. “Besides, this is a gift to me as well as you. It will give me time to consider my walk and clear wrong thoughts from my heart.”

  Heather looked at the woman staring into the fire again and wondered what wrong thoughts could be bedeviling her. She pushed her curiosity away. Didn’t she have enough worries of her own? Gideon. The war. Her father. Her mother’s words telling her to be forgiving. But her mother hadn’t seen the way he had shut Heather out in the cold when she so needed a place to rest. Or the way he tried to keep her own brothers and sister from greeting her so they had to sneak out into the dark of night. Such a father did not deserve forgiveness.

  Sophrena gave herself a bit of a shake and stood up. “It is not a Believer’s way to sit when there is work to be done. Not unless it is a time of rest or the Sabbath.”

  She looked around at the wall before she set the chair back over at the table. “The brothers need to put some pegs in these logs so there would be places to put things out of the way.” She sounded almost cross.

  Heather thought of the chairs off the floor in the large house. “Why do you hang chairs upside down on the wall?”

  Sophrena turned back to Heather. “Upside down, a chair will not collect dust to soil one’s clothes when one sits upon it. We hang chairs and other things on the pegs out of the way to make cleaning a room easier. Good spirits won’t stay where there is dirt. Mother Ann taught that from the very beginning.”

  Heather looked down at her dress, soiled from her long trip home. Her hands carried the grime of her travels too and she did not want to even think of how her face and hair might look. It was good she spotted no mirror in this place. “Then I suppose no good spirits will come close to me.”

  “Such will be remedied before the evening meal.” Sophrena touched her shoulder. “Rest here while I fetch bathing water and clean garments for you. We have only dresses like these we wear.” Sophrena ran her hand across her skirt.

  “I will be grateful for whatever you can spare as long as the waist does not bind me,” Heather said.

  “Yea, I will choose a dress with that in mind.” Sophrena went to the door, but turned back to say, “Eldress Corinne will be sending Brother Kenton to check on you.” She looked all around the room without letting her eyes fall on Heather, as though perhaps just speaking of Heather’s condition made her uneasy. Then her voice softened. “Brother Kenton will treat you with great kindness.”

  Her cheeks looked flushed against the white cap she wore over her hair as she opened the door. Perhaps from the fire. Heather put her hand up to her own cheek. It no doubt was red from the warmth of the fire as well.

  Sophrena was all business when she returned with a bucket of water in one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other. She filled the kettle to swing over the fire. She made no attempt at conversation and neither did Heather. It seemed silence suited these Shaker people and her aunt was one of them. Besides, the silence was somehow comforting in this small cabin where it had been unnerving in the big house with the eldress eying her. Heather had felt something like a stray cat showing up on the Shaker woman’s doorstep. Kindness compelled her to feed the creature, but she had no intention of soiling her hands by offering it the comfort of a stroke down its fur.

  But Sophrena appeared eager to reach out to Heather. At the same time, she seemed unsure of exactly how best to help this stray who had shown up out of nowhere to upset her ordered life. Her touches were like that of a butterfly, fluttering and light. Heather thought of stepping closer to her aunt and embracing her, but she too was hesitant. While the woman was undeniably family, she was yet a stranger. It mattered not how much she resembled Heather’s mother. That didn’t bring Heather’s mother back to life. Heather would never feel her mother’s arms around her again while on this earth. She had only the memory of her love and the letter in her pocket to guide her.

  The woman helped undo
Heather’s dress and then gathered it up after Heather stepped out of it. Again she seemed uneasy as her eyes dropped to Heather’s rounded form under her shift and quickly away before she said, “There are clean undergarments as well.”

  She started to turn away, but Heather reached out a hand to stop her. “The baby is kicking up quite a fuss. Would you like to feel?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she took Sophrena’s free hand and placed it on her shift where the baby pushed against her skin. Her aunt’s eyes widened, and Heather thought she might jerk her hand away when she released it. But she did not. Instead she closed her eyes and kept her hand solidly on Heather’s stomach, as though absorbing the feel of the baby. When she opened her eyes, tears slipped from their corners to slide unnoticed down her cheeks.

  She looked at Heather and asked, “How does it feel to carry a new life within you?” She dropped her hand back to her side and waited for Heather’s answer.

  “At times, uncomfortable.” Heather smiled as she put her hand where Sophrena’s had been and gently massaged the elbows or knees poking against her. “But uncomfortable or not, it is good. A natural thing. As God intended when love forms a child.”

  “We do not believe in such love here at Harmony Hill. Or at any of the Shaker villages. We live as brothers and sisters the way Mother Ann decreed was best.”

  “Why would she decide that?” Heather didn’t try to hide her puzzlement. “What kind of world would it be without babies?”

  “In a perfect world, the kind of world the Believers hope to have in their villages, babies would be given just as Mary was given the Christ child to bear.”

  “Is that what you believe, Sister Sophrena?” Heather asked.

  “I have doubts that everyone in the world will ever seek the Shaker way of perfect devotion. So I think there will always be babies and children in need of a home. The Believers stand ready to supply that home with hope some of those children might embrace the Shaker way.”

  “As you have,” Heather said.

  “As I have.” Sophrena did not meet Heather’s eyes as she lifted the hem of her apron to dash away the remnants of her tears. “I was not a child when I came to Harmony Hill, but I was in need of the good love the sisters and brothers here offered to me so freely.”

  “Did you not have a happy marriage?”

  “Nay.” The word was spoken abruptly. “There is much unhappiness in the world.”

  “So are you happy now?” Heather spoke the question, even though she could tell Sophrena was anxious to be shed of the talk of marriage and happiness.

  “It is a place of peace and love,” Sophrena said. “Not the love of the world, but the love of God. Here, we give our hearts to God.”

  “I love the Lord, but I don’t think he puts limits on love here on earth. Love is part of his design.”

  “Yea, your thoughts of love are worldly ones. Harmony Hill is different and you may understand our ways better after living among us.”

  “I won’t give up my child,” Heather said.

  “Worry not, my young sister. That would not even be possible for you right now. You are the vessel of life for your baby. Wait to worry about tomorrow when the day comes.” Sophrena kept her voice soft and calm. “I will go gather up some necessary supplies and give you the privacy of your bath. Brother Kenton will be here before the evening meal to determine if all is well with you.”

  “If he is a Shaker, can he know anything about birthing babies?”

  “He was a doctor before he came to the Shakers. So I am confident he has helped babies come into the world.”

  Sophrena turned away from Heather to busily poke at the fire before adding a chunk of wood. She brushed her hands off on her apron as she straightened back up, keeping her eyes from Heather’s face. It was clear she was uncomfortable talking about the birth.

  “Mother never had anyone with her except a neighbor lady who helped birth babies. I’m sure I’ll be fine with your help, Sister Sophrena.”

  But would she? She had to wonder about that as Sophrena grabbed up Heather’s soiled dress and hurried out without a backward glance. Perhaps Heather was asking too much of a woman who had lived away from the normal ways of families for so long. Heather stared at the door Sophrena had firmly pushed shut behind her. How could these people believe that babies weren’t a gift from God? Was not the Christ the greatest gift ever? A baby born and placed in a manger.

  Heather let out a long breath. She was here and here she would stay. At least until the baby came. She had little choice unless the war ended before then and Gideon returned for her. That wasn’t likely no matter how many prayers she sent up for peace. She shut her eyes and remembered the last embrace they’d shared before he marched away from her. She would see him again. She would. Please, Lord, she would.

  13

  Gideon’s division made the last part of the trip to Nashville by boat down the Cumberland River. Gideon worked his way out to a spot close to the rail on the crowded decks where he could see the water flowing past them. He aimed to be where he could jump into the river if the Confederates surprised them with a cannonball to the broadsides. It didn’t matter that he’d never been that good of a swimmer. His swimming would be better than his sinking with the boat.

  Jake White laughed at him. “You won’t get a chance to swim. You’re right out here where the sharpshooters can pick you off.”

  “No Rebel can shoot that good.” Gideon looked toward the riverbank. It wasn’t actually all that far away. And some of the Rebels were fair shots when they had time to take aim. Sitting up in the trees along the river, they might have plenty of time to steady their shots. “Leastways they haven’t shot good enough to hit me yet,” he added without quite as much confidence in his voice.

  “We’ve had the luck of the Irish so far.” Jake settled down beside Gideon. The air off the river was cold and Gideon was glad for Jake’s broad back blocking some of the wind.

  “I’m not Irish,” Gideon said.

  “I’m Irish enough for the both of us,” Jake said. “I’ll see to it that you make it home to see that wee little bairn after he’s born.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” Gideon twisted to look Jake in the face.

  “Now think straight, lad. If you were a Johnny Reb sharpshooter with only one shell to spend before a boat full of Yankees got out of range, who would you aim for? A smallish target like you or a big one like me?”

  “He might want to prove his skill.” Gideon studied the riverbank again to see if he could catch the glint of light on a gun barrel.

  “True enough,” Jake agreed easily. “The Rebels are a strange bunch. That yell of theirs can send chills down a man’s back.”

  Gideon shivered as he pulled his jacket closer around him. He’d heard the Rebel yell, seen the charges, been deafened by the cannons, and so far come out with not so much as a scratch. But a man couldn’t be lucky forever when he faced enemy fire. Could be, the coming battle might be his last in spite of what he’d told Heather before they parted.

  He smiled, thinking of Heather safe with her family now. Her mother would take care of his Heather Lou and his baby too. He did so want to see that baby. He shut his eyes and imagined the little tyke in Heather’s arms. A tiny boy with dark hair like Heather’s. He wouldn’t wish his red locks and freckles on anybody, even though he was used to them and the jibes they brought. Some things were only funny the first few times a fellow heard them and sometimes not all that funny even then. He’d scraped a lot of knuckles in fistfights before he figured out laughing along with the jokester made for fewer bruises.

  But wonder of wonders, Heather hadn’t minded his red hair and freckles. From their very first meeting, she was ready to laugh with him instead of at him. They had laughed about all sorts of things that looked fresh and more wonderful staring at them through eyes of love.

  He stared down at the water flowing past, taking him farther away from her, and hated how empty his arms felt
. Behind him, Jake had leaned back against the railing and was snoring. The man could sleep anywhere. Something Heather had said about him too. A soldier had to take his rest when and where he could. But sleep had come easier with her by his side. Now miles were between them and he could do nothing but remember the sweet blessing of her head on his shoulder and the touch of her hand on his back.

  She was his luck, his gift, his blessing, and his love all rolled up together. He pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head down on them. She prayed for him. He had watched her kneel in their tent and silently mouth prayers before she lay down beside him. She asked him once if he prayed. She never saw him bending his head in prayer.

  He told her, sure, he prayed. It was just that he wasn’t good with prayer words. Better to let someone else say the prayers and let him do the fighting. Besides, he’d already gotten the answer to his prayers. His Heather Lou.

  But now he had no idea how long it would be until she was in his arms again. He was headed toward a new battle with who knew what results. Then again, she was about to enter a battlefield herself. Women died trying to birth babies.

  It was no wonder sleep eluded him.

  14

  The days passed into December. It was peaceful in the cabin with Heather. It somehow felt right to Sophrena, almost as if she had gone back in time to the years before she came to the Shakers. But then she would remind herself that the years before she came to the Shakers were not peaceful. After her marriage, one miserable day had piled onto another in the small house where she and Jerome had started housekeeping. What she was imagining was only a wish of what might have been.

  She still felt unsettled when she thought about the future, and when Brother Kenton came to examine Heather or bring her a new tonic, she felt worse than unsettled. She was the same as those foolish young sisters she had once tried to guide along the peaceful path of obedience to the Believers’ rules. Those girls had kept one foot firmly planted in the world, and most had soon let the other foot follow it away from Harmony Hill. They had never wanted to take up their cross and change their thinking.