by Lyn Cote
When the pup was finished, Honor motioned to Caleb to take him inside. As she followed him in, she tried to come up with a way to involve Caleb in training his pet.
At the table again, she held her cup of steaming tea and pondered this situation.
“I name my cat Candy,” Eli said and signed.
“Why?” Samuel signed, the first comment he’d made since coming indoors.
“Because she sweet like candy.” He waved what was left of his peppermint.
Honor grinned in spite of her irritation. “That’s a good name for her.” But Caleb’s downcast face dampened her good humor, as did the fact that Samuel had been more withdrawn than usual.
“Eli,” Samuel signed, “ask Caleb what he’s named his pup.”
“He don’t sign. I sign to him, but he don’t sign back.”
Honor knew the rejection Eli experienced. Caleb lived beside Eli day and night, but the older boy refused to speak to him.
“Then we will have to give him a reason to sign.” Samuel looked to Honor. “He loves the pup. He will learn sign to keep him, won’t he?”
Honor looked at him. The pup could be their vehicle to reach Caleb. What did they have to lose?
“Eli,” she said and signed, “tap Caleb, and then sign your name again.”
“But I already do. He won’t.”
“Let me finish. Then point to us and sign our names and your cat’s.”
Eli appeared puzzled but obeyed.
“Now lift up Caleb’s pup and look at him as if thee wants to know something. Samuel and I will too.”
Grinning as if it were a game, Eli obeyed again. She and Samuel rapped the table and pantomimed the same question. “What is the pup’s name?”
Eli set the pup down and pointed to him. “Name?” he signed.
Caleb ignored them and tried to take back the dog. But Eli retrieved him too quickly.
Samuel rapped the table harder, and Caleb turned to him.
Honor watched as her husband signed each of their names, then Caleb’s name, and finally pointed to the pup and lifted his hands in obvious question.
Caleb glared at them and folded his arms in unmistakable stubbornness. He sometimes reminded her of Samuel in more ways than one.
Yet in a way this reaction reassured Honor. His refusal to obey was a child’s response, a normal child’s retort at being asked to obey when he didn’t want to.
Samuel reached over the table and lifted the pup by the scruff of its neck, away from Eli. He petted the dog and signed, “This is a good dog. His name is …” Again he made the clear questioning motion.
Caleb slapped the table and just as obviously demanded the pup back. He yelled in that strange-sounding voice of his, “Mine! My dog!”
Samuel signed the question again. “What’s his name?”
“Mine!” Caleb yelled.
“His name is Mine?” Samuel signed. “Mine?”
Caleb stared at him belligerently. He stood on the bench and reached across the table.
Samuel refused to give him the dog, moving it out of Caleb’s reach.
Caleb began huffing with his aggravation. “Mine!” he yelled and pounded the table with the flats of both hands.
Samuel signed back the word. “Mine?”
Caleb threw himself on the floor and yelled, “Mine! Mine!” He kicked and screamed the word over and over.
Honor’s neck tightened. “Samuel, he’s working himself up into a fit.”
“Wait.”
Eli picked up his kitten, stooped beside Caleb, and signed, “I name her Candy. Candy.” He offered Caleb the kitten.
Caleb stopped yelling and kicking. He petted the kitten and then held out his hands toward Samuel, asking for his pup, looking piteous.
Samuel asked for the name again.
Honor’s stomach clenched, and she felt the tension radiating through her whole body. The boy’s struggle over whether to give in and sign the pup’s name was visible. Anger and frustration and mulishness all figured in his expression.
“Pal,” Caleb said aloud finally, holding out his hands again. “Pal.”
Honor interpreted with a hopeful glance toward Samuel.
“No, you must sign it,” Samuel responded. Then he signed the three letters for the boy. P-A-L. He pointed toward the pup and pantomimed returning it to Caleb.
Eli also signed the three-letter word, and Honor nodded in encouragement.
Caleb glared at Samuel but said aloud, “Do that again.”
Samuel formed the signs again, and Caleb did each one after him.
Samuel handed the pup to the boy. “Pal,” he signed back. “Your dog is Pal.”
Caleb wrested the dog from Samuel and turned around, hugging the pup to him and pouting, his body radiating frustration.
“He signed it! He signed it!” Eli crowed.
Honor drew in a deep breath. Caleb had just learned his first word in sign. She squeezed Samuel’s arm.
Samuel rested his hand over hers, another moment of family. He gazed into her eyes, then sent Caleb a troubled glance.
Honor felt his compassion for the child and signed, “We won’t give up on him.”
After supper had been devoured, Honor rapped the table and signed to Caleb and Eli. “Time for bed. Take thy animals out once more; visit the necessary.”
As the boys passed her going to the door, Honor kissed Eli’s forehead. When she tried to do the same for Caleb, he pushed her away and slammed the door behind him.
She and Samuel shared another moment of mutual concern. She walked over to him and bent her head to rest upon his. With one arm he drew her close, soothing her unsettled nerves. She kissed his upturned mouth. Their efforts for the boy brought them together more and more, but Caleb would need so much in order to heal.
DECEMBER 6, 1819
Honor woke and lay silently, listening. A muffled knock sounded against the door to the outside. She knew what it must signify.
She slid out of bed, pulled on her robe and slippers, and tiptoed to the door. Hoping not to wake Caleb’s pup in the loft, she leaned close to the door and heard the soft tap again. Her heart throbbing, she opened the door only a narrow slit.
A pair of eyes stared back at her. After a moment she saw an outline in the glow of the gray dawn just lightening the chilly night. A black man in tattered clothing. God had sent her another escaped slave to help. A mix of fear and excitement electrified her.
Snatching down her shawl, she held a finger to her lips and breathed, “Shush …” She stepped outside, making him back up. “Go to the barn,” she whispered, shutting the door with exquisite care and throwing on her shawl. “Hurry.”
The two of them hastened over the frozen grass to the barn. In the small room at the rear, she woke Judah, who lit his lantern. Judah pulled on his coat and boots and ran to the kitchen to get provisions for the man. Honor swept one of the blankets from Judah’s bed around the runaway’s shoulders. Soon Judah returned with a jug of water and a plate of cold leftovers. The man ate ravenously.
“Thank you. Thank you,” the man said at last.
In the dim light she could see little of him or his face. “Thee can sleep up in the loft. But my husband is not sympathetic to runaways, and we have neighbors who occasionally visit,” she said in a low voice. “Please be careful not to make a sound during daylight.”
“Thank you. A black man in Cincinnati told me people in Sharpesburg would help me. To look for a large log cabin, large barn with a small cabin behind. An’ I ask God to lead me to the right door. An’ he did.”
“I will pray for thy safe journey north also. I must return before I’m missed.” She hurried outside and shut the door behind her. The cold quickened her step as much as the dread of discovery. She slipped back into the cabin, shrugged out of her robe and slippers, and slid under the covers again. Her heart beat fast from hurry and fear.
She hoped Samuel hadn’t noted her leaving and returning. She listened to his breathing, which
sounded normal, and slowly her body warmed again as she fell asleep, praying for the runaway in her husband’s barn.
Samuel watched Honor at the table the next morning. Where had she gone in the early hours of the morning? She generally didn’t use the necessary at night, so why had she gone out into the cold? Uncertainty swirled inside him; insecurity simmered in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed coffee. I should just ask her. She’ll tell me.
But he couldn’t. What if she had left his bed to … to what? Whom could she be meeting? They had only two close male neighbors, and it was obvious to everyone that Thad loved his wife. That left only the bachelor blacksmith, Micah. But he and Honor had never been more than polite to each other.
Samuel reminded himself that Honor had done nothing to deserve his mistrust—on the contrary, she’d proved loyal at every turn. He gripped his mug of fragrant coffee, trying to come up with some honest reason that his wife had left his bed in the dark. Maybe she’d heard a noise from the animals and slipped outside to see what was wrong. Or … “Have you heard from that newspaperman?” he signed.
Perlie had just delivered scrambled eggs and a pan of hot biscuits. Honor was melting butter over the biscuits one by one. Her hand faltered. “What? Why would thee ask about him?” she signed.
He shrugged without any answer.
Honor sent him a look edged with irritation. “I am thy wife, Samuel Cathwell.”
Samuel felt foolish. Honor was everything a man could want in a wife. That’s what caught in his craw. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe he was enough for her.
Eli and Caleb climbed down the ladder from the loft and came to the table, their pets trailing behind. Surely if something had occurred out of the ordinary, Eli would have woken. And Pal already promised to be a good little watchdog.
Samuel rose and stood next to his wife, signing for her eyes only. “I’m sorry I asked about Hewitt.”
She turned to kiss his cheek and went on with her buttering.
The tightness in his chest eased, and he sat down and began signing to Caleb, encouraging him to sign back. But the worry and doubt deep inside him had rekindled.
“Today I will fire up my forge for the first time,” Samuel signed at the end of breakfast.
“Is the forge done now?” Honor asked, glancing up.
“Judah and I finished it yesterday with Thad’s help. Micah will bring me some coal. I have some good clean sand that I’ve dug from nearby. I will try to melt some in the forge. Make my first glass in Ohio.” He beamed at her, a rare display.
On her part, Honor tightened with sudden fear for two reasons. After her visit to the glassworks in Pittsburgh, she was all too aware of how dangerous glassmaking might be. Tremendous, fearsome heat alone could melt sand into liquid glass. And Samuel had told her that glass could explode, shatter into piercing shards.
Then the second worry reared up on its hind legs. What if Thad came to see what his help had made possible? Would the runaway in the loft make any telltale sound? “Thad Hastings is helping thee?”
“Yes, he’s coming today.” Samuel paused. “He’s learning to sign more and more.”
Startled, Honor stared at him. She had kept her distance from Thad’s family. But she had noticed that Thad came over often and spent time in the barn. “I’m glad.” She began to realize more fully how her mission would separate her from her neighbors. Tight with fear, all she could say was “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.” Samuel wiped his hands on the finger cloth lying on the table.
Honor picked up her coffee with both hands and drained the cup. Someone knocked on the door, and her guilty nerves jerked.
Eli jumped up and opened the door.
The blacksmith, Micah, had arrived. “Morning.”
Beside him, Thad signed the greeting and asked aloud, “Samuel, done with breakfast? Micah brought coal.”
Both men tugged the brims of their hats, nodding toward her, grinning like children about to get a treat.
Honor signed Thad’s question to Samuel, who rose and waved a greeting to the men. Her husband seemed more relaxed in their company than she’d often seen him. This small community seemed to be the right place for her husband.
“Shall we fire up that forge?” Micah rubbed his hands together with anticipation. Judah appeared behind the other two, looking just as hopeful.
Samuel’s broad smile could have lit the room. After finishing his coffee, he kissed her cheek, grabbed his hat and jacket, and headed toward the door.
Eli finished scooping in the last bite of his eggs and motioned for Caleb to follow him. Caleb slid off the bench and picked up his pup to pursue the other males. Bringing up the rear, Eli’s kitten chased them all outside.
Honor stared at the door with a bit of puzzlement. Firing up a dangerous forge frightened her, but evidently it was highly entertaining to the male sex. Her amusement was short-lived. She bowed her head and prayed that the glassblowing would go safely and that the man in the loft would not give himself away.
As the morning progressed, Honor learned that another neighbor had stopped by the blacksmith’s shop yesterday and had evidently spread the news of today’s event. Men she’d never seen crowded around the entrance to the barn. Honor couldn’t help herself. The barn also drew her like a magnet. And her worry over the runaway kept her heart thudding against her breastbone.
She stayed near the men but somewhat apart, watching as Samuel repeatedly tested the temperature of the forge’s heat. Finally he signed that the sand he’d poured inside the forge was ready to be worked. He thrust a long metal tube into the forge and began to twirl it slowly, gathering the molten amber glass around the tube. Honor was torn between fascination over the process and worry that it would go wrong. The men watched in intense silence.
“Remember,” Micah said to the other men, “stay back. That forge is as hot as mine when I’m working iron, and glass can explode. Do not touch Samuel or get too close.”
In response the surrounding men stepped back a bit farther. Honor’s fear wrapped more tightly around her, and it was all she could do not to glance up into the loft. Was the runaway awake and aware of the danger? Or would he snort in his exhausted sleep and betray them?
The men remained serious and focused on Samuel’s movements. She understood the import of this event for her husband. Today all of the surrounding neighbors would view Samuel’s skill. Her husband’s face showed no emotion, but she read tension in his spine and the way he held his jaw.
Judah and even Thad narrated for Samuel as the others watched in fascinated silence. Eli stood near Honor, peering through the legs of the men in front of him. Caleb sat by the door of the barn, playing with the pup and kitten, teasing them with a string Honor had given him. Ignoring them all.
Honor watched Samuel, who had chosen not to use a mold, twirl the molten glass on the tube, then roll the blob on a slab of marble on his workbench.
“Mr. Cathwell is marvering the glass,” Judah informed them in a quiet, respectful tone. “That means cooling the outside of the glass. That marble is called the marver.”
Then Samuel began to puff into the blowpipe, creating a bubble in the glass. The men reacted in unison, exclaiming in wonder. Honor shifted for a better view. How did he possess the courage to come so close to having his flesh seared?
Samuel thrust the glass back into the furnace, orange-and-blue flames licking the sides of the glass on the cane.
“Mr. Cathwell is reheating the glass so he can work it more. That opening in the furnace is called the glory hole,” Judah said. The men were obviously puzzled by Judah’s presence and knowledge, but no one commented on Samuel’s free black apprentice. Honor drew in a deep breath and prayed again for the runaway’s silence. Still, her husband’s skill captivated her.
Samuel withdrew the rod. With Judah’s deft assistance, Samuel used wooden paddles and pads that had been soaking in water for days to shape the glass vessel. Again her husband’s demanding cra
ft drew Honor’s respect. The wooden pads Samuel wielded were all that separated his flesh from the molten glass.
He went through the same blowing process, and the shape grew larger, fuller. Finally she could see the bottle he was making, a sill or jug about a foot high and a foot in diameter at the base. Judah stepped forward and lifted a rod to Samuel’s sill, taking it from the blowpipe.
Then with quick, deft movements, Samuel created the neck and lip and fashioned a finger handle on the side. He held up the finished bottle still at the end of the rod.
One man reached out toward the jug.
“Don’t touch it!” Micah roared. “It’s still burning hot!”
The man staggered back in surprise. Honor inhaled sharply.
“Sorry. It will take some time before it can be touched.” Micah’s voice sounded tight. “And it could still shatter. Keep back.”
The man wiped his forehead with a navy-blue handkerchief. “Much obliged. Never seen anything like this before.”
The rest murmured in agreement with him.
Samuel cut the glass from the rod, set it in another compartment of the forge, and shut the door.
Judah latched it. “That’s the annealer. The glass needs time to cool so it won’t shatter from cooling too quick.”
Honor flushed with pride at her husband’s ability. The jug was practical, of course, but in a way beautiful. Samuel had taken sand and coal and created this. Peering through the tiny gaps between the men’s shoulders, she beamed at him. He smiled almost shyly at her. She was so glad for him, for this day. She savored his new pride and the respect he had won. And the runaway had not betrayed his presence. If only she could think of a way now to draw everyone away.
“Miss Honor,” Royale said in the doorway of the barn, “Perlie made cookies and a fresh pot of coffee for your guests. If they come to the house, she set up on your table.”
Honor sighed with silent relief at this clever ploy. “Please, gentlemen, come to our home for a small celebration of the beginning of Cathwell Glassworks.”
