My Heart Belongs in the Shenandoah Valley

by Andrea Boeshaar

  A laugh bubbled out of nowhere, and Lily felt decidedly better. She worked her fingers in between his.

  “Ready to head for home?”

  Lily’s upturn swirled downward. “I’m not ready to face Oliver—or anyone else.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t. Is there another way out of the church?”

  “Yes. Through the reverend’s study chamber.”

  Mac stood and pulled her to her feet. “Lead the way. No one is about.”

  Lily strode toward the altar and around the pulpit. She’d actually been amazed that Mr. Everett had kept his distance. But, of course, even he had more sense than to approach while she was in Mac’s presence.

  Lily pulled on the door, which opened to the narrow hallway that saw them to the reverend’s study chamber. The wooden floor creaked beneath their feet, and Mac’s boots kept time with Lily’s heartbeats.

  At last they descended the stairway that opened to the side yard.

  Lily halted, teetering on the last step.

  “What’s wrong?” Mac stepped onto the long grass.

  “I forgot my snake stick.” She hadn’t needed it, walking up the pike where she could see if a viper lay ahead.

  “Are you asking me to carry you home?”

  Imagining the sight, Lily burst into a giggle. “No, of course not.”

  “Do you truly believe God can’t keep a measly little snake away from you, that you need a stick instead of His hand of protection?”

  “When you put it that way … no.” A blush worked its way up her neck and into her face.

  Mac helped her off the last stair and folded her hand around his elbow. Together they walked through knee-high overgrowth that pricked Lily’s legs right through her stockings. Despite her pleas, Mac took her on a meandering path as if he dared a serpent to show itself. By the time they reached the pike, Lily didn’t know whether to sock him in the arm or thank him. He proved she didn’t require the snake stick, although it did provide a measure of comfort.

  “God keeps revealing Himself to me,” Mac confided, “ever since that copperhead bit you. On my journey from Alexandria, I listened at dawn to one of the freed men read from the Bible. Jesus said He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. I know that’s so.” He gave her a side glance, and Lily smiled. “So what have you to say about that?”

  “I say it’s quite a change from the man I first met some six weeks ago.”

  “Well, I’d say God intended for you to get snake bit.”

  “What?” Lily stopped. “How can you say such a thing? God wouldn’t want me to be injured.”

  “He allowed his Son to be crucified.”

  “But …” Lily found it difficult to argue.

  Mac replaced Lily’s hand in the crook of his arm. “I was very frightened over the thought you might die. I’d never felt that way before. In my helpless state I turned to God, and He met me in my hour of need.”

  His words warmed Lily’s heart. “As I recollect, you promised Him your life.”

  “I did, yes, and I never go back on a promise.”

  They continued walking, and she hugged his arm. “How unfortunate for me if I’d married Oliver Ashton and missed out on falling in love with you.”

  “You are quite bold, Miss Laughlin.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “I’ll overlook it this time.”

  She flicked a glance heavenward. “Now you sound like Mr. Everett.”

  “Such insult!” Mac put his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Princess.”

  Lily smiled, enjoying their banter and the autumn weather. Had the sky ever been any bluer? Had the turning colors on the foothills of the Massanutten looked any more aflame?

  Suddenly Oliver Ashton’s arrival in Middletown seemed very far away and oh, so meaningless.

  Lily handed jars filled with Aunt Hilda’s delectable applesauce to Mac, who packed them safely into the wagon bed. Jams came next, followed by preserves. The pies and cakes were loaded last. In another wagon, Mac’s crewman, Mr. Rogan, loaded up barrels of fruit, wheat, and corn. The harvest had been plentiful this year.

  Lily wiped her hands on her apron. “That’s all of it.” At Mac’s nod, she strode into the kitchen. She took one last look around. It seemed they’d remembered everything.

  She unpinned the white smock from the bodice of her blue-printed gown and untied it at the waist. After tossing it onto the worktable, she snatched her shawl and gloves, then left the house, pulling closed the kitchen door behind her.

  “Ready for the festival? Mac jumped down from the wagon.

  “Ready.”

  A giddy sort of anticipation bubbled up inside of her as Mac assisted her ascent to the wagon bench. He climbed up beside her, then took hold of the reins.

  As they bounced along the pike, with Mr. Rogan following a safe distance behind, Lily noticed the azure October sky and imagined an ocean of the same hue.

  “Do you think my aunt and brothers like their lives aboard the Ariel?”

  “I presume so.” A side glance and a grin. “If not, they’ll have plenty of time to adjust their attitudes.”

  “Will you ever adjust your attitude about the sea?”

  “Most likely not.”

  Lily turned to him. “Will I ever meet your family?”

  “Ever? Certainly.”

  She smiled. “Soon?”

  “I don’t know.” He pushed his hat higher up on his forehead. “You’re full of questions this morning.”

  “Begging your pardon, Captain.” She rubbed her gloved palms together. “Nerves.”

  “Mm …”

  “But it’s not that you’re ashamed of me, a poor country girl, are you?”

  Mac flicked an annoyed glance her way, and Lily grinned. His wicked humor must have been contagious.

  “No, of that I’m quite certain. I’m not ashamed of you. It’s my family, Lily. My folks, my brother Prescott, and his wife, can be overbearing. They plot and plan others’ futures when they ought to mind their own instead.”

  “But you forgive them for their attempt to marry you off to Miss Eden.”

  “Yes, I forgive.”

  The statement sounded unfinished, but when more was not forthcoming, Lily decided not to press.

  The wagon hit a bone-jarring rut that threatened to unseat her. She clung to the bench’s side rail and decided to change the subject before Mac requested it.

  “How proud Aunt Hilda would be.” Lily only had to close her eyes to see her aunt’s nod of approval. “I followed her recipes to the letter.”

  “Award-winning treats is what my palate tells me.”

  Lily thought so, too. However, year after year, Mr. Everett laid claim to a position on the judges’ panel, and this year she didn’t expect high marks from him.

  Mac turned off the pike and drove into the churchyard. Many wagons had already arrived and more trailed in behind the one Mr. Rogan manned. Once parked side-by-side along a stretch which promised much-needed shade once the sun moved higher in the sky, Lily arranged both wagon beds in a manner sure to attract buyers and barterers alike. In years past, Aunt Hilda performed the setup. The festival had always been more of a social event for Lily and an excuse for pranks by her brothers and their friends. This year, it was up to Lily to bring home the blue ribbon, and if such a prize was won by determination alone, she’d have it.

  The morning grew busy as patrons and sellers filled almost every spot of the churchyard. By noon, laughter and music strayed over from a favorite picnic spot on the grassy knoll closer to the church. By midafternoon, the judges made their rounds, sampling wares and jotting down results on slates with pieces of chalk.

  Mr. Everett paused at Lily’s display. He seemed as detached as in previous years, although he wrinkled his nose at Lily’s pear preserves. “Much too sour.”

  Lily cared little about his opinion. She’d presumed she wouldn’t get his vote anyway.

  He moved on and other judges took his place,
tasting and testing Lily’s fruity offerings. Then a sort of horrified hush wound its way through the crowd, and all eyes seemed to lock on the eastern sky. Turning that way, Lily glimpsed what others evidently saw too—thick curls of black smoke, rising into the cloudless sky.

  “Fire!” someone shouted.

  The festival goers parted like the Red Sea. Mac and Mr. Rogan, along with droves of other men, took off running in that direction. Lily guessed the location to be in the vicinity of Mac’s property or Haus am Bach. But perhaps it was farther on down the pike than that.

  “Barn fire!” A boy tore through the crowd. His next words sent a dagger slicing through her heart. “Fire at Captain Albright’s farm!”

  Mac, Mr. Rogan, and scores of other men took off running. Lily hurriedly packed up their goods and belongings. She’d leave the wagons here and Mac and one of his freedmen could come for them once the crisis passed.

  She sprinted down the pike, her lungs burning while the black smoke continued to climb into the air. When she arrived in Mac’s barnyard, his glorious barn was beyond saving. The men turned their attention to the cabin’s blaze. Smoke as dense as coiled rope blotted out the sun’s evening rays. A pall settled over the bystanders, comprised of mostly women and children. Within minutes, the hungry flames proved too much for the volunteers. They stepped back and helplessly watched it devour two months’ worth of sweat and tears.

  Lily found Mac near the corral. The two mules that weren’t used to pull wagons to the festival made their long whinnied hee-haw noise as if crying over the loss before them.

  She neared, longing to say something that would ease the anguish etched in Mac’s features. No words came. She smoothed his shirtsleeve, then slipped her hand around his elbow.

  Mac shook her off.

  Lily stumbled back, insult added to the wounds she, too, felt. Her father’s desk had gone up in flames along with Mac’s cabin, although the nostalgia was nothing compared to his greater loss.

  “I only meant to give some comfort.”

  His dark gaze slid her way. The animosity she thought gone with the snake venom in her body had returned. The corners of his mouth seemed to curl in a sneer.

  “Can you not see that I’ve lost everything?” His voice increased by decibels with each word.

  James and Issie turned their way, wearing curious frowns.

  Lily stepped back. “You have not lost everything, Mac. You can rebuild. God has not abandoned you. I have not—”

  “God?” He whirled on her, and Lily forced herself not to scamper off like a frightened rabbit. “You dare speak to me about God? My entire life is quite literally going to the devil.”

  She stared at him as the barn’s roof collapsed with a shower of sparks and a belch of black smoke. The mules became unsettled and Mac assured them by stroking their noses and patting their necks. In that moment, it seemed to Lily that he cared more for his mules and possessions than he cared for her.

  But of course that was absurd. Wasn’t it?

  “You have lost a barn and a cabin, Mac. They can be rebuilt. And look around you. Your friends are here. I’m here. And, yes, God is here too. Remember what you said not but a week ago Sunday …”

  “Are you so thickheaded that you cannot understand simple mathematics? I have no more funds with which to rebuild.”

  Lily held herself around her midsection. His words hurt twice as much as Everett’s slap across the face.

  “There is nothing in Middletown for me now.”

  “No, I daresay you are right about that.” Lily whirled around and marched toward the pike. A chill passed over her. She’d left her shawl at the festival, along with Mac’s wagons and whatever was left of the sellable harvest. She’d return there now and collect it and whatever else was light enough to carry home.

  Tears stung, but she refused to succumb to the sadness knocking at the door of her heart. God had shown her a monumental truth. The man she loved, or thought she loved, considered her nothing more than a burdensome, chattering magpie, although a bird would probably receive more respect from Mac than she did.

  Lily reached the festival and found Mr. Everett near Mac’s wagons.

  He removed his hat. “May I be of some help? I kept my eye on your wares while you were away.”

  “Thank you.” Lily wouldn’t lash out like Mac had done, although she disliked Everett and Mac professed to love her.

  Obviously, he did not.

  “It appears you’ve done well today.”

  Lily found her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Not as well as you might think.”

  Her heart began to crack, leaving an irreparable schism. She gathered the remaining jars of jams and preserves and filled her arms.

  Then an idea struck, although if she weren’t so upset and, yes, confused, she wouldn’t dream of inquiring. But it seemed most practical, given the circumstances.

  “Might you have your carriage, Mr. Everett?”

  “Why, yes. Shall I bring it by and take you home?”

  Lily nodded. “Thank you.”

  She located a couple of wooden crates and unpacked, then repacked her things. On the way home, she stared at her folded hands in her lap and forced herself not to look toward Mac’s property. How grateful she was to have glimpsed this warped side of him before they married. But he’d warned her and predicted she might change her mind.

  Well, she had!

  The fire had stopped smoldering and now, twenty-four hours later, Mac walked through the ruins of what had been the beginnings of his new and bright future. James Hawkins walked beside him, and Mac did his best to receive the fellow’s advice with a tolerant ear. However, James, like practically everyone else in Middletown, tried to console him with talk of rebuilding. They couldn’t seem to wrap their minds around the fact that it cost money to rebuild and Mac had nothing left.

  “Even the Son of God didn’t have a place to lay His head during his short ministry.” James placed his hand on Mac’s shoulder as they surveyed the cabin’s ruins.

  The muscle beneath his friend’s palm convulsed. Mac stepped out of James’s reach.

  “Believe it or not, Mac, plenty of us men have stood in your boots.”

  “Really?” Mac set his hands on his hips. “And did you return to your families a failure? Prodigal sons who squandered their inheritance?”

  Deep lines wrinkled James’s forehead. “Well, no …”

  “Then stop trying to make me feel better with weightless remarks and meaningless advice.”

  “Very well.” James inclined his head. “But only if you’ll stop feeling so pathetically sorry for yourself.”

  Mac’s shoulders slumped in final defeat. No one understood the extent of his suffering. Not a single soul. Most of the freedmen had packed up and left. Only Rogan and Marcus stayed around, but Mac suspected they’d soon depart. Nothing was keeping them here.

  “Have you seen Lily since the fire?” James asked. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve got tunnel vision that only goes one way—to yourself.”

  “Go home, James.”

  “Fine, I’ll leave. But you broke her heart when you yelled at her.”

  “My entire future was aflame!” Mac raised a fist to the heavens. “I have a right to my own black moods.”

  “Black moods?” James grunted a laugh. “Sinful response is what I’d call it.”

  “Of course you would.” The man needed to shut his mouth and go on his way.

  “Selfishness, self-pity …”

  “Are you about through?” Mac balled his fists, longing to knock that smirk off James’s face.

  “I reckon I am … for now.” He pointed at Mac. “Just remember, friends don’t abandon each other, even when one of ’em’s being a mule-headed jackanapes.”

  “That does it!”

  Mac swept the hat off his head and threw it down on the dirt before charging James and throwing a punch. James ducked and slammed his fist into Mac’s gut, then his jaw. The side of Mac�
��s face exploded, and when the silvery stars stopped swirling before his eyes, he realized he lay prostrate on the ground, gasping for a breath.

  “More advice, my friend.” A winning smile rang in James’s voice. “Never pick a fight with a blacksmith or the Almighty. You’re sure to lose on both accounts.”

  Captain Albright seems to have vanished since the fire a couple of days ago. No one has seen him since. I suspect he’s taken his leave, and I am sorry. You deserve better than that treasonous scoundrel.”

  Lily turned away from Everett’s feigned empathy and strode toward the parlor’s hearth. Embers from the low-burning fire took the damp chill from the room. Thunder rumbled in the distance and pulled her deeper into despair. Mac hadn’t even said goodbye. Of course, she’d only wished for a final meeting so she could slam the door in his handsome face. Perhaps he figured as much.

  “You’re young, Lily. Time will heal your heart.”

  “No, I’m afraid it won’t.”

  “Well, in any case, love is rarely the basis of a good marriage.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Hadn’t the same words spewed from Mac’s mouth? But how could she have been so stupid as to fall for all his shallow words of love? She’d allowed him liberties and believed his whispered intimacies.

  “Lily, I dread bringing up the subject, but the time is at hand.” Rustling paper captured her attention. She watched Everett unfold the documents in his hands. “The deed to Haus am Bach. It took me a while to procure it from the courts, but here it is at last. As you can see, it names me as owner of the manor.”

  Lily took the proffered document and scanned it. “Yes, it does.” If she wasn’t so emotionally numb, she’d be shocked and angry.

  “So I have an ultimatum for you. Marry me and remain here in your comfortable home, or refuse my offer and face immediate eviction.”

  “But I will require time to find another place to live.”

  “Those are my terms, Lily.”

  “Must we discuss this now? Haven’t I suffered enough?”

  She shook her head in a futile attempt to clear it. All she could see was Mac’s face. She felt his comforting, protective embrace. A shame it was all a game of pretend for him. The day of the fire brought out his true character, and Lily found it appalling.