Honor

by Lyn Cote

  The servant girl came in, removed their dinner plates, and set a platter of sliced cheese and rhubarb pie on the table. One forkful and the tart rhubarb tingled on her tongue.

  “Honor, I need you to ask your cousin some questions,” Samuel signed.

  Every bone in her body ached from many days of driving the team. She sighed and signed, “Do we need to talk now?” To my cousin who robbed me of everything and didn’t care?

  He nodded. “We must have our plans in place because we leave for home at first light in two days. I have work to get home to.”

  No mention of Honor’s distress, just his work. Selecting a slice of cheddar cheese, she quelled a grimace and signed, “Very well.”

  “Ask your cousin if she has any skill that she might use to make money.”

  Honor thought of how ludicrous this question was. Darah had been raised to be a lady, just as she herself had. The skills they had been taught—elegant manners, beautiful needlework, and the pianoforte—did not have any market value. In her deep fatigue, even the idea of lying down here on the floor started to have appeal. Ever since Darah had appeared at their door, Honor had been prone to crave sleep more than usual—only to wake to nightmares.

  Pushing these thoughts aside, she delivered Samuel’s question, hoping to end this as soon as possible and go to bed.

  Darah didn’t look surprised. “I can make lace, fine lace.”

  Now Honor did recall this. Both of them had been taught this ladylike skill, but unlike Honor, Darah had excelled in it.

  Samuel nodded. “Good. Tomorrow we will rent you a shop with living quarters. I will pay the rent for a year. And I will deposit a hundred dollars in an account at the bank for you.”

  Honor, in the act of reaching for another slice of cheese, halted her arm in midair. Samuel had to nudge her into relating his words.

  Darah gasped.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” Sally murmured, clasping her hands together.

  Honor stared at her husband, unable to speak. A hundred dollars? She pulled back her hand from the cheese board, suddenly short of breath. One hundred dollars was what she’d been left in her grandfather’s will. The irony of this wrapped around her throat. “We’re leaving High Oaks in Alec’s possession, then?” she demanded sharply.

  Every face turned to her.

  “What can we do about that, Honor?” Darah asked. “Upon our marriage, High Oaks became his. As a married woman, I have no property rights.”

  Honor chewed on this unpalatable legal fact. Though why she should experience afresh the loss of High Oaks baffled her. Even before Darah married Alec, Honor’s home had been wrenched from her. Had she in some secret part of her heart hoped to somehow free her people even now? Impossible.

  “The hundred dollars is a loan, which I will expect you to repay over time, Darah,” Samuel signed and Honor translated. “But not till you’ve established your business in a few years and are making a steady income.”

  Darah murmured a bewildered thank-you.

  Honor lifted a slice of cheese but couldn’t eat it. She still couldn’t look at her cousin. She believed what Darah said about Alec. No sane woman would flee as Darah had unless she had cause. But Honor’s own situation was fraught with such uncertainty. She and Samuel had come so far, but would they ever be completely one? Would her devotion to abolition continue to separate them? Worry tied her up inside into tight, hard knots. She set the cheese on her plate.

  Samuel turned to Sally. “What can you do?”

  “I can sew and mend. I could hire out.”

  Samuel nodded. “I will give both of you money for new clothing so you can look presentable to apply for work. You need new shoes and will require warm clothing for winter.”

  Honor continued to share his words, the mistreatment by those she trusted still souring her unsettled stomach. Of course Samuel would be generous; he had been generous with her. It stirred something unpleasant within her nonetheless, something she wished she didn’t feel. Their meal finally ended, and soon they retired to their reserved rooms upstairs. Honor could barely wish her cousin good night.

  In their room, Samuel shut and latched the door. Honor sank into the comfortable chair by the cold hearth. The last rays of the sun lit one wall, reflecting her low mood. She wanted to lie down and sleep, and she wanted to spring up and run from the room.

  Samuel stood motionless, gazing at her. She tried to read any trace of love in his expression, his eyes. As usual, he excelled in masking his emotions. Above all, she needed reassurance of their bond. She needed him to hold her, but she couldn’t ask for it. He must do it without prompting or it would mean little.

  Everything in her life had been turned upside down. Alec was a monster. Darah was reduced to fleeing him. The people she would have freed were at the mercy of a man with an ungovernable temper. Samuel had proved practical and charitable, while Honor was barely able to speak a civil word to her only cousin. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks. And she was totally helpless in the face of this disruption—of her life now and of what she’d believed about those she’d left in Maryland. Her soul cried out to God, not in words but in confusion and hurt and exhaustion.

  When Honor and Samuel left Canada, riding the ferry over the Detroit River back to the American shore, she stayed near her husband for protection among the strangers, some very rough-looking. Even a few bare-chested Wyandot in buckskin and feathers stood nearby.

  On the ferry dock at the Canadian shore, Darah and Sally stood in the morning sunshine that glinted on the water. Watching the ferry leave, Darah raised her hand in farewell.

  Honor wanted to ignore the gesture, forget all the shattered illusions, but she could not. She raised her hand. Would she ever see Darah again? The blue water flowed underneath them as she left her kin on another shore, in another land. She had never felt so alone. Samuel never spoke of love but protected and provided for her. Alec had vowed his love for her, but then he married Darah and savaged her. Honor’s turmoil continued to plague her, leaving her weak, bewildered.

  Soon, with a bump and groan of ropes, the ferry docked, and Honor led the team and wagon onto the American side. They left bustling Detroit behind, driving south again for another week on the crude trail. Her arms ached as they never had before, her fatigue deeper than ever.

  Honor leaned against the bench, her lower back complaining. If Samuel were able to drive, they could take turns holding and guiding the team. While it was true that being unable to voice commands for the team was the main obstacle, she sensed that Samuel’s refusal to learn had more to do with how he still viewed himself—an unwelcome thought.

  And she must do all the driving without the diversion of spoken conversation. Slow tears slid down her cheeks. She couldn’t recall being this physically and emotionally tormented and exhausted. The sun rose higher, higher, and the heat of the day grew cloying, breathless.

  “Why are you so upset?” Samuel signed.

  Incapable of explaining what she didn’t understand, she brushed his question aside with a wave of her hand.

  He stared at her, brows drawn together, then folded his arms and turned away.

  Lost in her inner misery, Honor did not attempt to ease their impasse. Some time slipped by before she became aware of a change in the wind.

  Samuel rested a hand on her arm. “Are you angry with me? All I’ve done is help your cousin and her runaway maid.”

  She shook her head, glancing skyward.

  The wind began to gust, and she realized the moisture in the air had climbed also. Honor looked to the west. Thunderclouds were building into ominous, murky-gray mountains. She glanced around in alarm.

  Samuel touched her arm again. “What is wrong? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  No shelter anywhere. And Samuel questioning her about the real issue—now, of all times. She slapped the reins, hurrying the team forward. Maybe around the next bend they would find a clearing. If there were thunder, the team could hurt themselves in
their panic or run away with the wagon, crashing and injuring her and Samuel. And sitting up so high off the ground, the two of them and the horses would be targets for lightning strikes.

  “Whoa,” she said in a reassuring tone while slowing the team so she could free her hand. She nudged Samuel with her elbow and signed, “Look for a clearing or a low place away from the trees. A storm is coming.”

  With the swift spring storm sweeping toward them, the horses became more and more restive. No clearing was in sight. The horses danced, nervous of the change in the wind.

  Samuel tapped her arm once more.

  Honor swung to face him. “I can’t talk now!” she bellowed. The barest hint of thunder rolled in the distance. The team fought the lines. “Whoa!” She hauled back on them, and for once Samuel reached over and helped her restrain the horses. She couldn’t wait another moment. She turned to him and mouthed, “Hold them!”

  Scooting down from the bench, Honor quickly unhitched the team and took off their harnesses. She even tugged off their bridles, which she worried could attract lightning with their metal parts. Then she released both horses, clicking her tongue, urging them to go. At first they looked around, agitated as if they couldn’t figure out what was happening. When lightning crackled in the distance, the team charged forward, racing headlong down the trail—as they would have even if harnessed to the wagon. She’d acted just in time.

  She swung back to Samuel, who sat with the slack reins in his hands, looking astonished. She gestured to him to follow her as she raced toward the rear of the wagon. She signed for him to open the tailgate and then clambered up into the narrow wagon bed under the tarpaulin.

  Samuel hesitated. Then, with a cold gust, the rain poured down like a bucket tipped overhead. He shouted in surprise and scrambled under the tarpaulin, crowding up against her.

  The world around them detonated. Lightning flashed. Thunder pounded. She panted and shivered from the sudden chill, from wet and from fear. Hail battered the tarpaulin and wagon around them. Thunder pounded without interval. As if he could save her, she gripped Samuel’s shoulders, cringing with every flash of white lightning.

  The fast-moving storm swept onward, leaving them panting from the exertion and worry. She still clung to Samuel, grateful for his presence and strength, but her feeling of being tossed in a blanket by recent events hadn’t lessened. She didn’t trust her own heart and mind. Her husband was physically here to weather this storm. But since Darah had come, the similarity between what she’d felt for Alec in the past and what she now felt for her husband shredded her peace. Had she ever loved Alec, or had it been something completely different? Did she love Samuel? Did that matter in their life together? She fought tears of frustration.

  Samuel finally slid toward the foot of the wagon bed and down to the earth. Honor lay on the pallet, smelling the stale sweat left by Darah and Sally. Now, on top of everything else, she and Samuel were stranded far from anyone, with barely any food. And who knew where their horses had run to?

  It was too much. Honor lay curled on the pallet, bereft. She rolled onto her back and smelled the wet, low-hanging tarpaulin overhead, steaming. She couldn’t summon the strength to face this, too.

  Samuel touched her ankle. Closing her eyes, she squeezed back tears. She mustn’t just lie here till dark came. Life had to be faced. She slithered down, and he helped her out. She leaned against the wagon and gazed at him.

  Samuel met her eyes, his brows raised. “We’re stuck here without our horses. Why did you let them loose?”

  “Didn’t thee see how they bolted at the first thunder and lightning? I had no choice but to let them run free.” Frustration and hurt billowed inside her. She leaned back against the wagon and folded her arms, refusing to talk further to him.

  Samuel touched her shoulder. “We must find the horses,” he signed.

  “I know that!” she shouted and signed.

  “Why are you so upset?” he asked. “You’re angry about something.”

  She went around and lifted their traveling bag and cloth bag of supplies, seething at the situation, at the husband who remained oblivious. She slung the lighter bag over her shoulder and handed him the other. “Let’s go.” She strode away.

  He hurried after her. “Are we just going to leave the wagon behind?”

  “What can we do? Can thee pull the wagon thyself?” Thinking of the plight of her lost team, she felt her irritation dissolve into worry. “Let’s hope neither of them was injured or struck by lightning. I think they will stay together. I hope.” Shrugging her uncertainty, she stopped and looked heavenward. “God, help us. We need our horses.”

  But no hope flickered within her. She plodded beside Samuel, occasionally whistling for the horses but with little hope of finding them. She stared down at her muddy shoes and her mud-spattered hem in despair. Was there no balm in Gilead? Or Ohio?

  In the midst of the endless, brooding forest, Samuel trudged through the mud and puddles beside his wife. He was at a loss for how to shake Honor from her dark mood. And now they were slogging up a miry, slippery track, looking for horses. Would they have to abandon their wagon this far north and buy another team somewhere?

  He glanced at Honor from the corner of his eye. He could see her anger. But it wasn’t due to the storm and their situation—he understood that. She should be angry at the man who’d hurt her cousin, and perhaps even at Darah herself—but not at him.

  Another mile passed and his own frustration increased. Finally he tapped his wife’s shoulder. “Tell me why you are so angry.”

  She scorched him with her gaze and kept walking.

  He hurried after her. Here in the uninhabited forest, absolutely alone, at last he would demand the truth.

  He grasped her shoulder and halted her. “Stop. I want you to explain to me why you are so upset. And don’t tell me it’s about the horses.”

  She glared at him, slashing the air with a question. “Thee doesn’t know?”

  “No!” he signed back, not hiding his frustration.

  Ripping off her driving gloves, she held out her hands before her. In spite of the gloves, they were painfully red, swollen, and callused from driving the team. The sight unsettled him, shamed him. He should have been the one driving.

  “Look at my hands! Isn’t that enough to be upset over?” Leaning forward, she began to sob, appearing to have trouble catching her breath.

  This alarmed him. He drew her close under one arm and signed, “I’m sorry, but that isn’t all. You have been upset since your cousin came.”

  “Yes!” Her expression confirmed that he was missing something.

  “Because she inherited the land that was rightfully yours?”

  “No! Because Alec courted me first!” She jabbed a finger at herself. “Then married my cousin. How could I have believed such a false-hearted man?” She averted her face, yet her fingers went on signing. “He just wanted the land. Why didn’t I see that? Am I blind?”

  Samuel jerked backward, stunned by this revelation. Such a man deserved to be horsewhipped.

  Honor turned away from him and began marching down the road again.

  He rushed after her, stopping her by grasping her arm. “I still don’t see why you are so angry. He courted you, but you didn’t end up married to him. You married me.”

  “Yes, and I’m glad, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was betrayed by everyone—my grandfather, Alec, and my cousin. It hurts. I can’t help that. I hurt.” She pressed a fist to her heart.

  He moved to catch her hand.

  She evaded him and stalked away.

  Baffled, he bent and braced his hands against his knees, gasping for air, for a way to help his suffering wife.

  When Samuel was able to look up, he saw that she must have fallen. And she wasn’t trying to stand. His anger was quenched in a second. Was she hurt?

  He hurried forward. “What’s wrong?”

  She gazed at him but made no effort to reply. The knapsack
she’d been carrying had fallen so it supported her head. Lying on the muddy road, she was weeping.

  Terror for her ripped everything else from his mind. He dropped to his knees. “What can I do? Tell me!”

  She wouldn’t look at him but just lay there, inconsolable.

  He ransacked his mind but could think of nothing to do. They were alone in the middle of nowhere.

  Then Honor turned her head, and he saw her mouth form an O.

  He followed her gaze and saw a wagon rounding the bend through the thick fir trees. He couldn’t believe who was coming toward them. The slave catchers. What help would they be?

  The older one, Zeb, hauled up on the reins. Looking as though he were shouting, he jumped down.

  Samuel sprang up and stood in front of his wife, ready to protect her.

  Honor could not believe her eyes. Their horses were tied to the rear of Zeb’s wagon. She grabbed Samuel’s hand before he stirred trouble. “They caught our horses,” she signed.

  Samuel looked as disbelieving as she felt.

  “What’s the matter, Quaker?” Zeb asked, coming to stand in front of her.

  “I stumbled,” she said, still too done in to rise. “We’re walking because a storm came and we had to set our horses free for their safety. Thee found them.”

  “I thought the horses looked familiar.” Zeb regarded Honor, worry creasing his forehead. “We were lucky enough to find shelter in a clearing. When we started out again, we found these two on the road. Where’s your wagon?”

  “Not far.” She pointed behind them.

  “Are you ailing?” he asked.

  Honor sighed. “No, I’m just so tired, and I’m sick every morning, and—”

  “Sounds like you might be in the family way,” Zeb interrupted.

  A jolt went through Honor, and she counted back the weeks. She had missed two monthly flows now. Darah—coming, upending everything—had pushed any suspicion out of her mind. She rubbed a hand over her eyes, trying to feel something besides exhaustion.