A Plain and Sweet Christmas Romance Collection

by Lauralee Bliss

  Silas was enjoying this all very much. The food was good, but the spirits were even better. It wasn’t long before the contents of the flask passed to him under the table had loosened his tongue. “Did I tell you about the Friends I met in Philadelphia?” he said to Abe.

  “So thee once dwelt in the City of Brotherly Love?” Mr. Hall inquired.

  “Brotherly love, sir? Ha! There is no such love to speak of. The city breathes evil, my good man. And the so-called Friends do nothing but speak their pious babble, which means little and does even less.”

  Mary gasped. George stared. Mr. Hall’s smile never wavered as he lifted the platter to offer them more meat.

  When little came of his remark, Silas grew silent. It was as if the wax had been stripped from his candle of discontent. Nothing remained to fuel the flame. Except Mary, who continued to stare at him with her narrow set of blue eyes, her nose slightly lifted in the air, and her arms crossed. He sensed no satisfaction over her reaction, just disappointment. Perhaps rightly so. This family had nothing to do with Philadelphia, except that they were Quakers. He should not brand them with his past.

  Silas excused himself to wander out into the sitting room with the fancy wooden chairs. He no longer wanted to associate with anyone or drink of any flask. None of it brought the peace he sought. He only wished he could ride out of here in the morning. He glanced out the window to see a few flakes of snow drifting down from the skies. The storm foretold by Mr. Hall. Between his horse and the storm, God Himself had decided that Silas should remain here for now, perhaps to face what he could not. And that fact irritated him to no end.

  “Oh Mr. Jones, thee has not had thy dessert!” Mrs. Hall called to him. “I made a good pumpkin pie. Come join us.”

  He offered her a small smile before quietly reentering the room and occupying his place once more at the long table. He made no eye contact with anyone, least of all Mary. In his heart he wanted to apologize to the Hall family for what was said. Or alluded to. But pride locked the words in his throat, where they remained.

  Abe and the other gentleman, Thomas, made lighthearted comments as they feasted on thick slices of pie. Silas remained silent, eating the delicious pie, knowing that those around him likely wondered what ailed him. No matter. He would leave this place as soon as he could. Pray the snowstorm would amount to nothing and Barzillai would have a miraculous recovery. Anything, so long as he could abandon this Quaker home and be on his way, continuing a journey of the soul, with no real conclusion in sight.

  Chapter 2

  He’s inconsiderate of our ways. He’s conceited. He’s like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. We must send him away as soon as possible.” Mary tried in vain to add a sense of urgency to her words. She could not ignore the feelings that rose each day Silas Jones remained under the roof of their home.

  But Father would not hear of it no matter how much she ranted. “Mary, must I read to thee what scripture says? That like the Mary of old, thee must choose a wiser course, such as love and mercy and truth. Thee must sit at our Master’s feet to hear His bidding. And take in a lost sheep like Mr. Jones. Thee should not dismiss opportunity. Only God knows the time of his departure, and I am glad he is here and told him so.”

  “But he’s not of the brethren, Father. Opportunities are only for those in fellowship. We have taken in a wolf among us. I’m certain of it. I’ve seen it in his eyes. And we’ve seen and heard what he’s said and done in our presence. Drinking spirits at dinner. Mocking our beliefs.” She looked around. “And have we taken stock of our goods? The money jar? We ought to find a new place for the money.”

  “Come, come, Mary. Does thee truly believe Mr. Jones is here to steal from us? He is not the evil one. And who are we to judge his condition? Certainly not thee. Or myself. Or anyone. He has done nothing ill since he’s been among us. He is but a lost soul in great need. His heart, I believe, is already accepting of God’s mercy and light. And so we, too, should be merciful.”

  But Mary refused. No matter what Father said, she would not trust Silas Jones. Any man under the influence of strong drink, with contempt for others, mocking even the most sacred things, such as the trembling brought forth by the Spirit of God, should be cast out from among them. Her family could be poisoned by it. Surely the elders would agree with her.

  Just the mere thought of Silas laughing at them made anger flow through her. Anger that neither Father nor the elders would approve of, she knew. But she couldn’t help how she felt. If only they could see the eyes of Silas Jones that revealed the man’s inner self. They were a delightful deep, dark brown, but they concealed mischief. Eyes that taunted and challenged the very fabric of her family’s existence—of who and what they were.

  Mary took up her basket in a huff and hurried outside. Frustration built within her. Did no one see the signs? Were they all blinded by simple trust—a trust that could turn disastrous if they were not careful? Oh, if she must remain silent for days she would, to confirm what she believed in her heart.

  She spent the next hour digging in the cold, dark brown soil and the bit of snow that lay from the storm several days ago. A few vegetables still remained from the harvest many weeks back. Mother asked that the remainder of the vegetables be taken up from the ground if possible. The soil felt as hard and cold as the chunks of ice Father sometimes purchased in sawdust during the summer. Not very different from the hardness of men’s hearts, she mused. Like the heart of Silas Jones.

  She then considered Father’s response of thankfulness for the stranger with them. Perhaps it would do well for her to think on the man’s lost nature as Father did. The darkness where he hid. His wandering soul in need of God’s Light to guide him back. But she could not dismiss his outright blasphemy of their ways. Or how he addressed her and the brethren’s way of communicating, even going so far as to call her haughty and vain. With each aggravating thought, she dug deeper into the earth to free the potatoes before plopping them into the basket. She grabbed up the load to take back to the house.

  Suddenly she felt something bump into her. Her basket sailed into the air, scattering root vegetables on the ground. She stood there, stunned, until she heard a voice exclaim an apology and saw a man’s large hands gathering up the vegetables now frosted by flakes of snow.

  “I didn’t see you, Miss Hall. My humble apologies. I hope you aren’t hurt.”

  She looked up then to see eyes of the deepest brown. Were they really the eyes of mischief, as she believed? Right now the eyes of Silas Jones seemed to display a look of genuine concern. Perhaps even compassion, though she had no idea why. Silas cared only for his opinions. She sucked in her breath, remembering her own words, of the wolf in sheep’s clothing, prowling about, looking to devour the innocent like her family. And now this supposed sheep was trying to grab other things. Like her heart, perhaps?

  She took back the basket of vegetables, brushing away the bits of snow mixed with brown grass and soil from her skirt. “Thank you, but I must go.” She bit her lip, realizing she had misstepped the Friends’ language. How could that have happened?

  All at once the basket was back in his hands. His swift action surprised her. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “At least let me carry this back to the kitchen. It’s heavy.”

  “I can handle it quite well. I thank thee.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you can. Or shall I say thee can?” His lips turned up into a faint smile.

  She grabbed the basket’s woven handle. “Please, I grow tired of your mockery. I know you. I mean, I know thee. It’s quite easy to see what thee is doing. But it won’t work.” She felt her face burn with her continued slip of the tongue. She wondered if this man was somehow causing her to stumble. What else could it be? She had never found her spirit in such disarray. Unless there was more working here to disrupt her heart than she realized.

  His large hand released the basket into her possession. He took a step back. “So what is it about me you know? I thought only G
od could search out the depths of one’s heart. Unless you all have made up your mind what ails me. And what a sinner I am in your eyes.” When she didn’t answer, he took a step forward. In haste she retreated. “You have no reply?”

  “Only that I have seen men like thee before. Men who prefer to walk in their cloud of darkness rather than embrace God’s Light. And His Light is in thee, Mr. Jones, if thee would open thy eyes and heart to it.”

  “I need no reminders of the Light. I have seen it. And all it has done is blind those who embrace it. And they end up seeing nothing and doing less. Not even when death takes one of their own.” He turned then and strode to the door leading to the kitchen.

  Gripped by his words, Mary couldn’t help but follow. Now she wondered about the secret he concealed and if she could draw it out. “What do you mean? God’s Light causes no such hurt. God is life and love.”

  He stopped abruptly, whirled, and gazed at her so intently that she felt warmth tease her cheeks and her hands tremble in response. “Please don’t force me to tell you any more,” he mumbled. “I won’t say it. I can’t.” He bumped through the doorway and into the house.

  Mary thought on the words uttered by a desperate voice that fought to conceal the truth. What was that truth in the heart of the man, closed over by pain? Mary wasn’t certain she wanted to bear such a burden, even if the Friends taught her to do such things. Perhaps that burden was better left to others. Like Father. Or even her brother, George, whom she’d seen talking to Silas in the barn. Then again, George had taken over the task of nursing Silas’s mare, and he seemed quite happy with the horse’s progress. Silas might be comfortable confiding in another man his age. Or perhaps even speaking to one of the elders like Friend Daniel Gray.

  Mary gathered her shawl about her shoulders and cautiously approached the kitchen. Inside she saw Mother talking with Silas. From the way they conversed, it seemed the man was also trying to win Mother’s heart. She frowned in dismay. Mother seemed to respond favorably to him as she smiled and nodded. But Mary knew the truth. The man’s anger toward the Quakers. The unrequited things stored in his heart.

  Mary tried to scurry past the kitchen, but Mother’s voice caught her short. “Mary, would you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Jones a mug of apple cider? I have some warming on the stove.”

  Indeed I do mind, she thought but took a clean mug from a hook on the wall. “Surely thee wishes it weren’t cider,” she remarked to him in a low voice, dipping out the fragrant brew teeming with spices.

  He calmly took the beverage and said nothing until they entered the sitting room. “Please tell me what it is I’m eager to drink, Miss Hall, as you seem to know everything. Though I don’t understand where such wisdom comes from, since I’ve only been here a few days.”

  “You would drink that poison that clouds men’s judgment. How you could drink from that flask in our home…and at the table…” She didn’t care that her words were directed at him without the common Friends’ language. He’d disgraced their family with the drinking and the comments about their faith. He’d disgraced her.

  “If I were to apologize for my conduct that first evening, would you accept it?” He took a long drink and waited for her answer. She stayed silent. “So you wouldn’t.”

  “Why should I? You’ve given me no reason to believe you mean it. I mean, thee.” Warmth again teased her face. She turned aside.

  Silas laughed. He then approached her in a manner that sent tingles shooting through her. Only they were not tingles of concern but of some strange attraction she dared not even entertain. He—he’s an outsider. An insolent man of the world.

  “Put aside your humble speech, Mary. You trip over the words like they were stones. God isn’t a respecter of persons or of the language they speak.”

  The words surprised her. He was not a heathen. He did know something of scripture. And using it to trap her, perhaps? Or maybe to teach her. But how could it be the latter? “I—I don’t know what thee means.”

  “A woman of the friendly persuasion doesn’t need to hide behind a bonnet or rules to be who she is. Let go and live in freedom.”

  “And become like thee? No, I’d rather be at peace than be miserable.” She hurried away to her room to find her embroidery, anything to rid her mind of Silas Jones. How he could suggest such things went beyond her sense of reasoning. Why couldn’t she convince Father of the man’s disturbing ways? That Silas Jones sought to strip them of their faith. Take away all that brought them close to God by trusting in Him for everything in their lives. I have warned them of this man’s ways, she thought in despair, even as her fingers fumbled to thread the needle. But they won’t take heed.

  She puzzled over it until she remembered Friend Daniel Gray, one of the elders. Surely he would listen to her complaint and bring the matter to Father. After all, Friend Daniel once voiced concern over her family opening this inn. While he agreed with their wish to provide hospitality to outsiders, he cautioned it would also open them to the ways of the outside world. And Silas Jones had proved him right.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Thee has come here unescorted?” Daniel Gray inquired when Mary arrived at his doorstep, chilled by the cold air. He looked beyond her as if expecting her father or George to be sitting in a wagon. She knew it was inappropriate to come alone to a man’s home, but her anxiety demanded it. The sooner her family rid themselves of Silas Jones, the better she would feel.

  “I’m sorry, Friend Gray. I—I had to come right away. It’s very important.”

  “It must be.” He stepped aside. “My cousins are visiting from South Carolina. We are not alone.”

  It was well they weren’t, for Mary knew Daniel was widowed, having lost his wife in childbirth a year ago. She hadn’t considered what she would do if she arrived to find him alone in his home. Now she wondered what drove her heart to do such things. Would she be rebuked? But after she greeted Daniel’s cousin and his wife, Daniel lit a few extra oil lamps in the sitting room and gestured her to a chair.

  Mary wasted no time telling him about the guest in their home and how she believed him to be of ill repute in soul and spirit.

  Daniel stirred. “I see. In what manner has he brought ill upon thee and thy family?”

  “His words and mannerisms are like thorns. He—he mocks our ways and our beliefs.”

  Daniel chuckled. “And why is that so strange to us? Does thee recall the persecution of those who came before us? Friend William Penn even found himself falsely arrested and a prisoner many times. Newgate Prison twice and even the Tower itself.”

  “Yes, I know the stories.” She had been told many times of the forbearance of William Penn, who met with grave persecutions before Friend William founded Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The place the people call the City of Brotherly Love. And even the state of Pennsylvania was named after William Penn’s father, to whom the king of England owed a great debt.

  “Then thee shouldn’t trouble thyself with one who doesn’t know the Light of God in his heart. Rest in God’s protection and His will.” Daniel hesitated, looking over to the adjacent room where the cousins were. His voice lowered. “Actually, I am glad thee stopped by, Mary. I’ve been thinking of thee and have been meaning to come by thy father’s house.”

  Mary caught her breath. “I—I can surely use thy prayers,” she managed to say.

  “Prayers, yes. But perhaps thee would consider going riding with me?”

  She hadn’t expected this kind of attention from a man of the Word and the Faith, looking at her with more than the simple interest of an elder to his flock. “It is kind of thee to ask.”

  “Actually, I blame the cousins,” he said with a chuckle. “They wonder when this lonely heart of mine will seek another. And I believe it’s time. I’ve mourned a year for Elizabeth. One must live for Christ and not the grave.”

  Mary paused, thinking of Silas, though she didn’t know why, and said quickly, “Yes, I would like to go riding with thee.”


  His face erupted into a smile of pleasure. “Next Thursday, then?”

  Mary nodded. They conversed a bit longer, about the short winter days, the past meetings among the Friends, and what he might speak about at First Meeting. He began to share more of his thoughts, as if he dearly wanted her to be a part of them. When she finally bid him good day, she inhaled quick breaths of cold air that sent pangs of pain fluttering in her chest. Nothing was turning out the way she’d expected. Here she had come asking for protection and prayer against an outsider and came away with a proposal of courting. Was God indeed guiding her heart? Was this what His Light did, shine in ways she never considered?

  Mary mounted her horse, Whisper, and made for home, certain she would be rebuked if she did not arrive back soon to help with the daily baking. How she wished she could ride forever with the cold breeze filling her and its unseen tendrils brushing her face. If not for the unpleasant winter days, filled with cold and snow, she wouldn’t mind seeing other places. Again her thoughts drifted to Silas. He talked of his desire to journey west. She shook her head, unwilling to compare his goals with her own. They were like night to day. And she could not forget how he belittled her and the family.

  When Mary neared home, she saw several people gathered outside as if waiting for her arrival. Father, George, and Silas Jones of all people. “Where has thee been this day?” Father asked, his voice laced with concern.

  “I…” She paused, glancing at Silas, who looked at her with what appeared to be equal concern. “I went to confide in Friend Daniel Gray of a matter, Father. But I have returned, as thee can see. There is no need to worry.”

  “Thee went to see Friend Gray? Without an escort?”

  She felt her cheeks warm, even as she noticed Silas gazing at her intently. “His cousins were there.” She nearly spoke of the invitation to go riding with Daniel but kept silent. Right now she must calm the rising tide of anxiety. “I’m sorry, Father. I should have told thee of my intentions.”