Christmas at Harmony Hill

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “Don’t be concerned, Sister,” he said on one of those mornings as he patted Heather’s hand. “Babies generally come into the world with no difficulty at all. When I was still doctoring in the world, many were the times the babe would be wrapped in a blanket in his mother’s arms before I reached the house. Birthing is a natural process. Not one without discomfort, I regret to say, but one with such rewards that most mothers dismiss the pains straightway for the joys of motherhood.”

  “I’m not afraid to give birth. I helped my mother when she had my little brothers,” Heather said. “I will be glad when the time comes.”

  “Yea, as will I.” He patted her hand again. “A birth is not something a Shaker doctor will often get the chance to attend, but seeing a new child of God take a first breath is one part of doctoring in the world I admit to missing. The miracle of birth.” Then as though suddenly remembering Sophrena, who was busily wiping off the shelves she’d just cleaned earlier that morning, he glanced over at her. “Is that something you’ve ever shared, Sister Sophrena? Did you have children in the world?”

  She paused in her dusting and stared down at the cloth in her hand before she said, “Nay.”

  Although he had to be aware that Sophrena was not comfortable with the talk of births, he went on. “Then you must attend your relative of the world when the time comes for her confinement. It will give you a whole new way of thinking of the Christ’s birth in a stable and be a Christmas gift to you.”

  “A Believer has no need of gifts at Christmas,” Sophrena said. “Our Mother Ann instead says we should give of our plenty to the poor at this time of the year.”

  “Yea, that is good.” Brother Kenton put his hands on his knees and leaned forward in his chair toward Sophrena. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t rejoice in the unexpected gifts the good Lord showers down on us. This, our young sister’s baby, will be one of those gifts. Not something we sought, but something we were given. A good thing.”

  “Not sinful?” Sophrena lifted her eyes to look directly at Brother Kenton. Then a flush crawled up into her cheeks as she glanced over at Heather beside him and added, “Forgive me, Sister Heather, I don’t mean to be unkind, but in our Society, marriage is forbidden and thus the results of such unions as well.”

  “My baby is not sinful,” Heather said, but without any resentment at her aunt’s words. She could understand her unease with the thought of the marital union after so many years among the Shakers. “I am not one of your Society, Sister Sophrena. I will never be a Shaker if it means giving up the joy of family.”

  “We have family here,” Sophrena said but with little enthusiasm in her voice.

  Brother Kenton laughed. “That we do. Many brothers and sisters, but no daughters or sons. I did not mean to push wrong thinking toward you, Sister Sophrena. I am new to the Society while you have been a covenanted Believer many years. Even though I too have signed the covenant to follow the Believer’s way, I cannot look upon the birth of a new child as sinful. You will see.” He stood from his chair. “We will all see. And if I take too much joy into this step back into a more worldly kind of doctoring, I will confess such to Brother Ernest. He often tells me that I lack proper understanding of the Believers’ rules.”

  “I know the rules well,” Sophrena said softly as she went back to dusting the shelf that could not have had time to gather an iota of dirt.

  “I am learning them,” Brother Kenton said with steady cheer. “The same as I’m learning the dances, but I sometimes make a misstep there as I may have done so here in talking too much. Another of my sins Brother Ernest points out that I must shake from me.”

  “Worry not, Brother. We each have our own sins to confess and our Lord is quick to forgive them. We hold naught against you, do we, Sister Heather?”

  “Of course not.” Heather did not add how she was glad to hear that doubt lived in the minds of some of the Shakers as to their beliefs. Doubt she was beginning to note in her aunt in spite of Sophrena’s determined words defending the Shaker way.

  “That is good to hear,” the doctor said. “Be sure to send for me if anything changes, young sister. I do have to warn you that most babies tend to come into the world in the middle of the night as did the Christ child.”

  “And angels sang in the night sky to the shepherds,” Heather said.

  “Yea, so they did,” Brother Kenton said. “And you will be singing to your wee little one before Christmas Day if my eyes do not deceive me.”

  After the doctor left, Heather looked at Sophrena. “You don’t really believe my baby is sinful, do you, Aunt Sophrena?” She realized after she spoke that she had forgotten to say “sister,” but she didn’t change her words.

  Sophrena didn’t seem to notice. She was still staring toward the door that had closed behind Brother Kenton. “Nay. Nay, I do not.”

  “Will you have to confess that to the eldress?” Heather knew Sophrena continued to visit the Centre House to make such confessions to Eldress Lilith.

  “Perhaps,” Sophrena said. Then the bell was sounding from the center of the village to signal the midday meal. Sophrena shook herself a bit before she carefully folded her dusting cloth and tucked it away. “It is time to go get our food.”

  As the days passed, Shaker sisters brought gifts to Sophrena and Heather. Shawls to keep them warm since the cabin wasn’t as well built as the houses. Squares of flannel for when the baby came. A few of these women showed the same mixture of uneasiness and eagerness in regard to Heather’s condition as Sophrena. Some were mothers. Others, like Sophrena, had never borne children.

  Even if their children were still among the Shakers, such relationships were ignored. The children lived in a children’s house and the mothers were now sisters to their sons and daughters. That was something Heather would never understand no matter how many ways it was explained to her.

  Sophrena gave Heather a book about the Shakers’ Mother Ann and let her read for herself how the woman determined through prayers and visions that the deaths of her four infants were a sign to her she should not have married. She believed the Lord was leading her into a better way of life where she could live as those in heaven lived. Without acrimony. Without the stress of individual family life. Without wars and conflicts. With simple peace. One way to obtain that peace was to allow the spirit to overtake one’s body and shake away all sin, but true worship was best expressed in working with one’s hands and giving one’s heart to God.

  Heather tried not to condemn their ways simply because they seemed so strange to her, but at times, she did want to ask what of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who had pondered in her heart the amazing child she’d borne? Was she not blessed with other children given to her in the natural way? And what of Hannah who had begged the Lord for a child with such ardor the priest had thought she was drunk on wine? Had not the Lord blessed her prayer and given her the desires of her heart? Children were gifts from God. Her baby the same as Hannah’s in the Bible so long ago.

  If Sophrena noted Heather’s frowns when she was explaining something about the Shaker way, she didn’t comment on it. In fact, there were times while she spoke of their beliefs that her own forehead would pucker with the lines of a frown. Whether that was due to the words she was saying or the dim light for her sewing, Heather could not be sure.

  It wasn’t due to any argument Heather voiced. She bit her lip and kept quiet. These people were giving her shelter without asking anything in return except that she consider their ways. Not that she would ever have the first thought of becoming a Shaker. She was only pausing here until Gideon returned. And that only because her father had turned her away from his door.

  She wrote Beth and Gideon with no assurance that either would read her letters. She could imagine her father pitching her letter into the fire, and who knew if a letter would have the chance to catch up with the army. If Gideon wrote to her, his letter would go to the farm. Until he received a letter from her, he would have no way to know she’d be
en forced to find another refuge.

  So she waited. For the baby. For Gideon. For the sorrow for her mother and brothers to lessen. For her anger at her father to stop stabbing through her. Now and again, she would remember her mother’s words asking her to forgive, but how could she when he’d barred her from her own home?

  16

  Gideon straightened from setting up his tent and stared across the field. Snow. That really was snow spitting through the air and hitting him in the face. As if war by itself wasn’t bad enough, the weather had to continually find ways to add to his misery. So hot in the summer a man could die from lack of water. So cold in the winter that a chicken roosting house looked like a fine hotel. Plenty of houses around the city of Nashville, but Captain Hopkins ordered them to stay together and ready. An officer couldn’t be searching through a hundred houses looking for his men when it was time to go out against the enemy. The captain wasn’t one to mess with.

  Gideon turned up the collar of his coat and pulled it tighter around him. He cast his eye about, to see if he could spot anything that might make a fire. Thousands of other soldiers settling into camp inside the city’s fortifications were no doubt doing the same.

  The armies were gathering. Union tents blanketed the space around Gideon. Out beyond the fortifications, scouts reported the Confederates were massing troops on the hills around Nashville. Down the river, Confederate ships set up battlements to block the Union supply boats. The booms of that confrontation came to them like distant thunder, but here, closer to hand, there were no signs of imminent action. General Thomas, the Rock of Chickamauga, was in command of the troops, and Pap never got in a hurry. That was fine with Gideon. He wasn’t the least bit anxious to be lining up to fight except maybe to get it over with. The battle would have to be fought, but when was out of Gideon’s hands. He, along with the other soldiers, was settling in to wait for the officers to give the orders.

  At least food was in plentiful supply. Most everything was in plentiful supply with Nashville full of profiteers ready to take a soldier’s army pay with temptations across the board. The place teemed with chances for trouble, but Captain Hopkins kept a tight rein on his men and ordered them to stay in camp. That was fine with Gideon. Better to stay away from temptation and remember his Heather Lou. He wasn’t about to squander his pay on gambling, drinking, or any kind of rabble-rousing. Not when he was about to be a father.

  The snow blew past him, leaving hard crystals of white gathered in the tent folds. After he and some others pooled their wood to get a fire going, Gideon sat beside it to write Heather. Just thinking of her made the fire feel warmer. The other men started a game of dice, but he paid them little attention as he wrote.

  My sweet Heather Lou. I’m missing you something awful, but I’ll be seeing you soon. Nothing can keep me away from you. We made camp on the outskirts of Nashville. The place puts me some in mind of Washington. Not as big, but with plenty of things going on that wouldn’t be fit for your ears or eyes. Some fellow staggered by here all glassy-eyed a while ago and said a man could find anything he wanted over in that town. I‘m thinking he might have wanted too much. He wasn’t one of our company and a good thing. The Captain would have give him what for. He let us all know we were to stay in camp. Said we were here to beat back Johnny Reb and not to be losing our pay, not to mention our honor, to them scoundrels what cheat at cards or try to entice a man into sinning with strong drink or painted ladies. You don’t have to be worrying none about me doing any of that, Heather Lou. You’re the only girl I want, but I sure am missing you. Old Jake just ain’t as good company in the middle of the night. Ha Ha.

  Gideon squeezed the last line on the very bottom of the page. He looked at what he’d written. He hadn’t even told her he loved her. He turned the page around and began writing on the side edges.

  It’s cold as anything here and my feet are wet. I need you praying for me. I’m not all that good at praying back for you, but I’ll give it a try. I remember how you used to tell me praying’s not hard. That the good Lord don’t need fancy words or even words spoke out loud. That he already knows a man’s heart. If he does, he knows I love you.

  When he got all that written, he barely had room to squeeze in his initial at the bottom of the letter.

  Jake, who’d been keeping the fire going, laughed when he glanced over and saw every inch of the page covered with writing. “You’re a man of many words.”

  “I didn’t say it all.” With a sheepish grin, Gideon folded the letter. “But maybe I can write her again tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow the captain will have us marching in circles just to keep us out of trouble.”

  “Might be a good thing. Leastways it might keep us warm.” He stuck the letter in his pocket and held both hands out toward the fire. “I thought we went south.”

  “Winter must have trailed along with us,” Jake said. “But think of it, lad. If us northerners are suffering, think how much more those southern boys are feeling the cold. They’ll be sprouting icicles, but not us. We’ve seen plenty worse. A little spitting snow is hardly worth noticing. Now, is it?”

  “But snow.” Gideon shivered. “And if that wind would just quit blowing.”

  “Would be a blessing.” A distant boom made Jake raise his head and listen. “Sounds like they’re still going at it.”

  Gideon looked to the west. “Sundown will quiet them down soon.”

  “Never had any desire to do my fighting on a boat.” Jake looked back at the fire. “Prefer my feet on the ground.”

  The Rebels had won the fight on the river the day before, but now Union ships had gone out to break through the barricade.

  “At least they’re fighting and not just freezing their toes off for nothing.” Gideon pulled off one of his shoes and rubbed his toes. The sock was damp.

  Jake frowned over at him. “You got to keep those feet dry, lad. Foot rot can ruin a man.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Heather had kept him in dry socks while she’d been with him. Carried them inside her dress pressed against her bosom. But now Heather was gone and his every sock carried the damp chill of the day.

  He held his foot out toward the fire as another boom sounded. If he was on those boats, he might have more to worry about than foot rot. At least so far on this day, nobody was shooting at him.

  “I can still march.” He propped his shoe up by the fire. He thought it best to take off only one shoe at a time. A man could put one shoe on in a run, but not two.

  “That’s a good thing, because they’ll be finding us a hill to charge up. Seems like we could fight on some nice flat ground with strong rock fences to take cover behind now and again.” Jake leaned forward to poke at the fire.

  “Captain says the Rebs aren’t dummies. They take the high ground when they can, same as we would if we had the chance.” Gideon looked away to the south where the Confederate army was digging in on that high ground.

  “I know. Always a hill a man has to charge up.”

  “Maybe this one will have trees.” He could hope, Gideon thought.

  “Could be.” Jake picked up a twig and chewed on the end. “Trouble is, even if there are trees, a man can’t stay behind them. Not and hang on to any honor.”

  “Honor.” Gideon echoed. “A fine-sounding word.”

  “That it is,” Jake agreed. “But it’s beginning to wear a wee bit thin for some of us that have marched behind it up too many hills.”

  “We’ve gone up our share.” Gideon stared at the fire and wished night would fall so the booming would stop. Too soon he’d be hearing more of those cannon booms once General Thomas gave the order to move.

  Jake threw his twig in the fire. The end he’d been chewing sizzled, then burned and was gone. “A man can lag behind and not be the first man up the hill when he’s got a baby he aims to see.”

  “Sounds like something my Heather Lou would say.” Gideon leaned down and rubbed the toe of his sock. It felt a little drier. “She ask you to t
ell me that?”

  “No, lad. I come up with the advice all on my own.” Jake stared at the fire a long minute before he pushed up from the block of wood he’d been sitting on. “And good advice it is. A man doesn’t always have to be the hero.”

  “A soldier without honor doesn’t have much.”

  Jake looked down at him. “You could be right, lad, but a dead man has even less.”

  “Heather would tell you different. She’d say a man can always look to eternity.”

  “That he can. And a fine place we’re promised it will be, but I’m thinking on dwelling here in this world a bit longer. If we can bear the weather.” Jake grinned as he grasped Gideon’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “Keep that in mind when the time comes, lad, and stick with me. I’ll get you through.”

  “You gonna get me through this weather?” Gideon asked.

  “That could be a little harder.” Jake stared off toward the western horizon. “My bones tell me it’s going to be worse before it’s better. We’ll be fighting in the snow.”

  But it wasn’t snow that fell on them a few days later while the generals were plotting their strategies. The snow changed to rain and then froze. The ice coated every surface and knocked down a fair number of tents. Captain Hopkins relented and let the men make their way across the ice-covered ground to barns, sheds, houses, any building with a roof to keep the ice from coating them the way it was everything else.

  When daylight came the next morning, Gideon looked out at a glittering icy world and knew nobody would be fighting anybody but old man winter on this day. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry. It might be good to just get it over with.

  17

  The weather was cold for early December. Heather even spotted snowflakes when she stepped out to the privy. She didn’t walk about the village. Sophrena thought it better if she didn’t wander around in her condition. Heather wasn’t sure if that was because of concern for her or worry that the Shaker people might be offended by the sight of her growing shape that not even the fullest skirt could hide.