Christmas at Harmony Hill

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “It did not seem happy.”

  “You have been worried about him after Brother Kenton brought news of the Union victory at Nashville. It is only natural that those worries appear in your dreams.”

  “What would I do without you, dear Aunt Sophrena?” Heather leaned her head over to touch her cheek to Sophrena’s hand.

  Sophrena dropped a kiss down on top of her head before she took the broom from its hook again. A house should be free of dirt on Sacrifice Day.

  Heather turned her attention back to her baby as she shifted him to her other breast. After a moment, she looked over at Sophrena. “Have you anyone to forgive on this day?”

  “More to ask forgiveness.”

  “Are you talking about that Eldress Lilith?” Heather didn’t wait for Sophrena to answer. “I wouldn’t ask her for anything. She needs a more charitable heart.”

  Sophrena smiled as she sat the broom aside to straighten the bed covers. “But that is why there is need for much prayer and contemplation on Sacrifice Day.”

  Heather breathed out a sigh. “Another reason I could never be a Shaker.”

  “You pray.” Sophrena scooted the bed to the side in order to sweep away any dust hiding under it.

  “But not for the same things you pray for.” Heather kept her eyes on her baby. “I pray for my baby. I pray for his father. I pray for you.”

  Sophrena hung the broom back up and sat down in the chair by the girl. “What do you pray for me?”

  “You may not want to hear it,” Heather said without looking up.

  “Nay, I will not be upset by whatever you say. I know you are of the world.”

  “That is what I pray for you, dear Aunt Sophrena.” Heather cradled her baby gently against her and reached across the space between their chairs to touch Sophrena’s hand. “That you will come away from here and be part of our family again. That you will know love as I do.”

  “I am too old for such love even if I were not a Shaker.”

  “Are you so sure?” Heather looked back down at her baby and hesitated before she spoke again. “I have seen the way you look at Brother Kenton.”

  Sophrena shifted her eyes away from Heather and stared at the fire. She breathed in and out slowly. “Such feelings destroy the peace we strive for here at Harmony Hill.”

  “Denying the feelings does not bring peace to your heart, does it?” Heather looked up at her.

  “Nay. But I have been a Shaker for many years. I cannot imagine another life.”

  “I don’t believe that. You have lived another life with me here in this cabin since I came. You hold my baby with great love and tenderness. And even before that, you reached out to my mother with your letters.”

  “I did.”

  “Mother wrote me a letter before she passed. She thought perhaps God stirred your heart to write her because he knew the hard times coming for us. That this was his plan, and then when I came into your village, you echoed her words.” Heather put the baby up to her shoulder and rubbed his back to help him burp. “God’s plan. Perhaps God is giving you a new plan on this Sacrifice Day.”

  “Eldress Lilith says not.” Sophrena kept her eyes on the fire.

  “It is not Eldress Lilith’s plan you have to ponder on this day. It is God’s plan. For you.” Heather’s voice was soft but insistent. “Perhaps that is what you need to contemplate on this Sacrifice Day. Should we not listen to God first?”

  “And have you done so?” Sophrena asked.

  “Not always as I should, but the Lord has blessed me. I have forgiven my father. Now I will pray that my father will forgive me on this day. And I am going to pray that Gideon will see this child, his son.”

  “Good prayers.”

  “What will you pray, Aunt Sophrena?”

  Sophrena stared at the fire a long moment without moving. She thought of the sisters, Mary and Martha in the Bible. One so busy there was no time for thought of anything but duties to be done. The other contemplating the truths the Lord was sharing with them. Was it not time for her to be like that sister? She looked over at Heather and answered her at last. “I will pray that the Lord reveals my path and that it will be a path I can step upon with joy.”

  “I will pray the same for you, and that we will both have the courage to embrace the gifts he sends us.”

  26

  The morning before Christmas, Gideon finally topped the hill and looked down at the farmhouse where his Heather Lou would be awaiting him. The last days had been hard with pain grabbing him every time he moved his shoulder. He’d thought about stopping to find a doctor, to get a fresh bandage, but every minute he wasn’t moving north was another minute before he could see Heather.

  Smoke curled up out of the chimney of her house, inviting him to hurry. He imagined her sitting with her mother around the stove, maybe knitting a baby sweater. It was early in the day. He’d gotten off the train in Danville the evening before and walked until near dark before taking shelter in a barn beside the road. He couldn’t sleep. The pain from his shoulder made it impossible to find a comfortable position, but even more, he couldn’t sleep because Heather was on his mind. She’d once told him he could sleep anywhere. Hard ground or soft. Cold nights or hot days. With cannons booming or in deep silence. It had been easy to sleep with her hand on his chest, promising her love.

  But the night before, his eagerness to see her kept him awake. She was so near, but he had no choice except to wait for daylight. A stumble in the dark and a fall on his shoulder might be more than he could stand. But once he was with her, once her hands were touching him again, then he would heal.

  He looked down at her house. The thought of her face in front of his eyes gave his legs new energy. He called out her name and began to run down the hill.

  A boy stepped from the side of the barn to stop him. Heather’s little brother. All arms and legs, Willie had grown nearly as tall as Gideon.

  “Gideon, is that you?” The boy had no smile of welcome on his face. Instead he looked almost afraid as he took a quick look back over his shoulder toward the barn doors.

  “I haven’t changed so much that you don’t recognize me, have I, Willie?”

  “You’re not looking too good, but I know you.” Willie took another nervous look behind him. He kept his voice low. “But you better get on out of here before Pa sees you.”

  “I won’t be leaving without Heather.” Gideon looked past the boy toward the house.

  “Heather’s not here, and if he sees you, Pa’s as apt to shoot you as not.” Willie grabbed hold of Gideon’s arm and tried to pull him back behind the barn. “He ain’t got no use for Yankees.”

  Gideon didn’t let Willie budge him. A sick feeling was rising up inside him. She had to be here. What did he mean she wasn’t here? He grabbed Willie’s jacket. “Where is she?”

  “Let go of my boy!” Heather’s father stepped out of the barn and leveled a rifle at Gideon.

  Willie jerked free from Gideon, but instead of moving away, the boy put himself between his father and Gideon. “He was just leaving, Pa.”

  “Don’t waste your pity on a Yankee.” The man’s voice was full of contempt. “Step aside, Son. Now.”

  Willie did as his father ordered. His eyes flashed from Gideon to his father’s face and back again before, without a word, he took off for the house, running as if his life depended on it. Mr. Thornton didn’t let his eyes waver from Gideon as he kept the gun leveled on him.

  Gideon stared back at him. “Where is she?”

  “Gone. They’re all gone.” The gun wobbled a bit, but then the man pulled it back up straight.

  Gideon hardly noticed it. He could think of nothing but where Heather might be. “She can’t be gone. She has to be here.”

  “Gone, I said.” His voice was rough. “The same as Simon felled at Gettysburg and her mother and Jimmy lost to the cholera. All gone. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

  “Gone? You can’t mean my Heather Lou is dead.” He
couldn’t bear the thought.

  “She was dead to me the day she went off with a Yankee.”

  “But she was carrying my child.” Despair mashed him down until it was all he could do to stay on his feet. Behind the man, he could see Willie and Heather’s sister, Beth, running toward them. The little brother, Lucas, trailed after her, wailing as he tried to keep up.

  “Pa,” she screamed. “No.”

  He paid her no mind as he stared at Gideon. “What do I care about your child?” But a flash of pain in his eyes gave lie to his words. “I told her not to go with you.”

  “But she came home to have him. Here where she felt safe and loved.”

  “I sent her away. She had no place here.” He kept his jaw clenched, but the timbre of regret was in his words.

  “Where?”

  “What does that matter to you? You’ll not live to see another sunrise.”

  “You can shoot me, but you can never make me quit loving your daughter.” He held his arms out beside him, surrendering. It seemed a long way to walk to die when he could have done that on the battlefield.

  Beth stopped a few paces away from them as though she feared getting too close. She grabbed at her breath and spoke in a voice that made Gideon think of her mother. “Pa, you can’t shoot Heather’s husband.” When he didn’t so much as look sideways at her, she went on. “Thou shalt not kill. You taught us the Ten Commandments.”

  “This is war,” he said.

  “The war is over for us,” she said firmly. “We need no more dying.”

  “Death comes whether we need it or not.” He raised the gun up to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel at Gideon. Willie’s eyes popped open bigger and Lucas hid his face in his sister’s skirt. Their father paid no notice to them as he asked Gideon, “Is the war over?”

  “For me it is.” Gideon locked his eyes on Mr. Thornton. “Is it over for you?”

  “It’s over, Pa,” Beth spoke up. “More killing won’t bring Simon back.”

  “Hush, girl,” her father ordered. Lucas began wailing louder. “You too, Lucas.”

  “But Pa, you can’t kill him on Christmas,” the little boy said between sobs.

  “It’s not Christmas.”

  “But Beth says Heather just had a baby. A Christmas baby.”

  “She’s had the baby?” Gideon forgot the gun pointed at him as he stepped toward Beth. “The baby’s here?”

  “We got a letter yesterday from Aunt Sophrena. You have a boy.” Beth smiled at him.

  His head began to spin. He had a son. “And Heather?”

  “Aunt Sophrena writes she had a difficult confinement but she made it through.”

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Gideon whispered.

  A valley they had both been in during the last weeks. A valley he might still be walking through. He looked around at Heather’s father. The man had lowered his gun and was staring away toward a cluster of trees in the distance.

  “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” the man said.

  “We read that at Mother’s funeral.” Beth pushed past Gideon toward her father. Without hesitation, she put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “Sometimes I don’t think I can keep going without her,” he said. “She wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “Too much dying,” Beth whispered.

  Gideon thought of the bodies lined up after a battle, awaiting burial. Jake’s body had been in one of those lines. Now his body might end up in another place awaiting the mercy of burial. But dear God, please let him see Heather one more time. And his baby. He so wanted to see his son. Jake had died to give him that chance.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “The Shaker village in the next county,” Willie spoke up. “You might have come right by there.”

  “And I’m going right back.” Gideon turned too quickly toward the road and the combination of too much blood lost and no food since he’d gotten off the train the day before sapped him of energy. He reached for something to hold on to, but there was nothing but the thought of Heather and his baby. Black settled around him and his knees buckled.

  Willie came to help him. “He’s bleeding.”

  “Did you shoot him, Pa?” Lucas started wailing again.

  Gideon tried to get back to his feet, but even with the thought of Heather waiting for him, he couldn’t pull up enough strength to keep going. He’d have to sit there on the ground and rest awhile. And hope the man would pick up his gun and go away without shooting him.

  “Stop your caterwauling, Lucas. I didn’t shoot him.” He handed his gun over to Beth and moved to reach down to Gideon. “Come on, Willie. Let’s get him in the house and see to him. Your sister’s right. There’s been enough dying.”

  Gideon drifted in and out of consciousness. He was in a warm place. The hands washing his wound were gentle. Strong arms lifted him up and held water to his lips. And then broth. Heather’s house. Heather’s family. But she wasn’t there. He had to get to Heather. To his son. He had to tell her the baby’s name.

  Finally he was able to push open his eyes and keep them open. He was on a cot. Heather’s father was in a chair beside him. The gun was nowhere in sight. Gideon raised his head and swung his feet out on the floor. The man watched him without a word.

  Gideon sat there on the edge of the cot to let his head clear before he said, “Thank you for not shooting me.”

  “Lucas was right,” the man said. “Christmas is a bad time for killing.”

  Gideon looked toward the window. The light was dimming, but he had no idea how long he’d been out. Was it evening or morning? Maybe it was Christmas Day. He licked his lips and said, “Is it Christmas?”

  “Susan would say so. She liked the night before the same as the day. Made the children new nightshirts and gowns. Let them sit up till midnight eating popcorn and chocolate candy. Then she had me read about the angels coming to the shepherds before she sent them off to bed.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I swear there were nights I could hear those angels singing.”

  Across the room, Beth and the two boys stood by the fire listening. Gideon could see tears glistening on the girl’s cheeks as she reached to pull Lucas closer to her. Nobody said anything as they waited for Mr. Thornton to go on.

  He stared down at his hands spread out on his thighs a long moment before he said, “But it was never the angels. It was always Susan, and now I’ll never hear that singing again.”

  Words popped in and out of Gideon’s mind, but none seemed right. Finally because the man seemed to be waiting for something from him, he said simply, “She loved you.”

  “She did. God only knows why, but she did. And I loved her.” He raised his eyes to stare at Gideon with challenge. “Do you love my daughter that way?”

  “I love her more than life.” Gideon managed to get to his feet. “I’ve got to go find her.”

  The man stood up and gently shoved him back onto the cot. “The day is almost gone. When Christmas dawns on the morrow, we will go in the wagon. All of us. I hear my Susan telling me to give you that gift.”

  “It will be a gift to all of us,” Beth whispered. “A wonderful Christmas gift to see our sister and her new baby. Thank you, Pa. Mama will be singing a song of joy just for you.”

  He didn’t smile, but a tear slipped out of his eye and slid down his cheek. He didn’t brush it away, just blew out a breath of air, and stalked out of the cabin. Willie started to follow him, but Beth stopped him. “Best let him listen for Mama’s song alone, Willie. Come, we’ll go pop some corn.”

  Gideon lay back on the pillow and listened to the corn popping. Next Christmas, he and Heather would begin their own special times with little Jake.

  27

  Sophrena did everything a Believer was supposed to do on Sacrifice Day. She prayed. She confessed. She asked forgiveness. She forgav
e. Eldress Lilith gave her a blessing. Sister Edna smiled and told her she would be glad when she came back to share the retiring room with her and the other sisters. Brother Kenton looked surprised and then a bit uneasy when she asked his forgiveness for wrong thoughts toward him. She stopped him on the porch as he left the cabin after checking on Heather and the baby.

  He stared down at his medicine bag as he seemed to search for the proper words. Finally with a gentle look, he said, “We have shared much in the last few weeks, Sister Sophrena. I have admired your caring spirit and devoted ways to our young sister. Such times of closeness can awaken feelings that tempt us into worldly thinking.”

  “Yea.” Sophrena had already faced the truth that Brother Kenton had not looked upon her with the same affection that had sprung awake in her own heart. That seemed even more reason to ask his forgiveness on Sacrifice Day. “I have struggled with worldly thoughts all through the year.”

  “Even before Sister Heather came among us?” He let his eyes touch on Sophrena’s face and then quickly slid his gaze back to the ground.

  “Yea. Your smile awakened joy within me.”

  “Then I must ask your forgiveness for setting a worldly temptation in front of you. Such was not my intent. I rejoice in the peaceful love of the brothers and sisters here in our village.”

  “Much simple joy can be found here. It has been mine for many years.”

  He looked up at her, this time meeting her eyes. “But now it is no longer?”

  “I have entertained feelings I have been unable to whirl away.”

  “Perhaps I could make you a tonic,” he suggested.

  “Nay.” Sophrena couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at her lips. “There are some things for which there are no tonics.”

  Again he looked uneasy. “I am sorry,” he started.

  She waved away his words. “Don’t be, my brother. My spirit is well. I am forgiven. I am loved. Whatever God’s plan for me, joy is alive in my heart.”

  And it was. She watched him walk away with no sorrow for his leaving. Inside, Heather and the baby awaited her love. Whatever happened on the morrow, she would know it was God’s plan.