Honor

by Lyn Cote

  “You look like you been cryin’.” Zeb frowned deeply, eyeing Samuel as if he’d done something to upset her.

  Zeb’s concern lifted her spirits. “I was,” she admitted but didn’t elaborate. She tugged on Samuel’s hand, and he bent to help her up. She was sweaty and muddy and miserable. But somehow she didn’t care about herself any longer. Samuel’s strained, unhappy expression pierced her. Memories of his past mistrust of her returned. I should have been kinder, more diplomatic, when I told my husband about Alec courting me. Or held my tongue. After what he did for Darah, I shouldn’t have lost my temper and taken this out on him. She tried to smile at him but failed.

  “Well, let’s go find your wagon and get your team hitched up again,” Zeb said. “Dan, you get down and let the lady sit up here.”

  Dan obeyed and helped her up on the bench.

  Zeb took his seat beside her and set the wagon in motion.

  “Zeb, I admit, I am glad to see thee,” she said.

  “Never thought you be sayin’ that, did ya?”

  She found it in her to grin. “No, I didn’t.”

  “You ain’t been home for a spell. We were followin’ a slave and lost him.”

  Thank God the runaway had eluded them. Honor glanced at him sideways. She knew he and Dan hunted slaves for money, but what kind of life was that for anyone, even men who furthered a system of oppression she hated? “Doesn’t thee ever tire of roaming around?”

  “No, I got Dan and this wagon. We get by.”

  If there were anything she could say to change the man’s mind, she would have said it. But now she merely patted his rangy arm. “I thank thee for catching our horses. I’m exhausted and just didn’t know if I could face trying to find them or buying a new team.”

  “What are you up this far north for?”

  “Samuel had bottles to deliver, and we carried a friend on the way. She’s starting a lace business near Detroit.” Honor chose her words carefully, not wanting to lie but neither able to tell the entire series of events.

  He squinted at her. “You telling me the truth?”

  She was glad to be able to say yes.

  “You sure this ain’t about a runaway slave?”

  Honor drew in the clammy, cooler air left by the storm and again selected her words with caution, avoiding his question. After all, the maid had not run away from her mistress; she had helped her mistress run away. “My friend is fleeing her husband. He beat her and broke her arm in a rage. She had no family to protect her. Now I suppose thee will tell me that a wife should submit to her husband and that we shouldn’t have helped her.”

  “No, I ain’t gonna say that. A man who’s got a good wife should count himself lucky and treat her right.”

  Grateful, she turned her face to Zeb. “Thank thee, Zeb. She was a good wife. It’s been very upsetting. And I’m so exhausted from traveling.”

  “And you might be in the family way. Women get emotional then. More than usual, that is.”

  Still uncertain about this, Honor went over all she’d gone through in the past days. Expecting or not, she’d had plenty to be emotional about. She’d thought that she and Samuel had come to an understanding of each other. But learning the truth from Darah had upset everything. After her grandfather’s death, she and Royale had been hard-pressed to find a way to survive with some dignity. No time for reflection or acceptance. Finding a way to live, a safe place and provision, had overwhelmed them. They were secure now, but the turmoil of Darah’s arrival had thrown Honor back into that awful time.

  Honor knew that Samuel was a good man, that Alec could not begin to compare. But even if she tried to frame this into a defense, she wondered whether her husband would believe her after her hasty words about Alec’s courtship. His suspicions may start all over again. God, help me. She and Samuel had been married for months and might have conceived a child together—a true blessing—but in her distress, she feared she had done harm to their marriage, lasting harm.

  The journey home went easier and faster than expected. Samuel didn’t like being in the company of the catchers, but he said nothing. Honor seemed at ease with them, something he couldn’t understand. Dan, the young one, took over driving the Cathwell wagon so Honor could walk or ride. When they reached Dayton, the older one saw a poster about a runaway, and the two wagons separated.

  Now Honor sat beside Samuel on the wagon bench, again driving their team. Since they’d had company most of the way home, they had interacted very little. Trying to reconcile himself to Honor’s past with Alec Martin, Samuel had not wanted to engage with her. And evidently his wife had been of the same mind. They had only communicated about the merest practicalities.

  Finding out that the man had courted Honor had reignited a trace of Samuel’s former jealousy, though when he thought about their situation rationally, he could not imagine Honor possessing feelings for a man who had betrayed her and mistreated her cousin. Yet the revelation had cut Samuel deeply, and the wound didn’t go away. Honor had pressed her hand to her heart and said, “I hurt,” and Samuel felt the same.

  Honor was an upright woman and a praiseworthy wife, but she’d only married him out of necessity. That was the sticking point. Would she ever feel any love for him?

  MAY 5, 1820

  In the weathered building where the African church met, Honor sat between Samuel and Caleb, Eli on Samuel’s other side. Over her shoulder, Honor glimpsed Royale and Judah in the open door at the rear. The wedding couple’s radiant faces told the truth. Royale loved Judah, and he loved her. Everyone rose in honor of the bride and groom as they entered.

  Tears rolled down Honor’s face. She could not stanch the flow and did not try. Beside her stood the husband who had barely spoken to her since they had returned from Canada. Not even when she revealed she was probably expecting their first child, though she’d hoped this good news would break the impasse between them. Samuel had said the right words but with no emotion or spontaneous gladness. He had guarded himself as he always did. He was extra careful of her and concerned about her overdoing it, but that was all.

  From the rear of the room, a woman with a rich, melodious voice began singing a song familiar to Honor, bringing her back to this special event.

  “Fare thee well, fare thee well.

  In that great gettin’ up mornin’

  Fare thee well, fare thee well.”

  Holding hands and dressed in their best clothes, Judah and Royale walked—no, nearly danced—down the aisle together. The whole congregation clapped and joined in the song.

  “In that great gettin’ up mornin’

  Fare thee well, fare thee well.”

  In her memory, Honor heard Royale’s mother’s rich voice, lifted, singing the same song. Emotion raced through her. Face forward, Honor hid within her bonnet and made no telltale move to wipe away her tears.

  An image from her own very different wedding, of Samuel’s closed face as he’d affirmed his commitment to her, released long-denied despair, welling up inside her. Every day since they’d returned, she had tried to smooth matters over, but he remained aloof. All the headway she’d made in her marriage had evaporated, mostly because of her rash words on the drive home. Would the child she carried be born into a house empty of love between its parents?

  After the song died down, everyone sat, and Judah’s father, Brother Ezekiel, stood between Royale and his son, speaking to them of love and commitment. Honor’s mind raced with flashes of memory of her home in Maryland, the green fields of tobacco, and the sad faces of her people—faces she would probably never see again in this life. The images felt as sharp as pinpricks, and her tears rolled downward. She’d wanted to free her people, but now they lived under a master more unfeeling and volatile than his predecessor.

  Judah and Royale said their vows loud and strong.

  Honor’s own vows echoed in her head. “I promise, with God’s help, to be unto thee a loving and faithful wife until it shall please the Lord by death to sep
arate us.” She’d made that promise and would live up to it, but she hadn’t counted on how difficult the road would be. Just weeks ago, she and Samuel had been united by something near to love. Would it ever return? She wanted what everyone wanted: to love and be loved by someone.

  Brother Ezekiel tied Royale’s and Judah’s wrists together with a rough cord. Then Judah kissed his bride.

  Following a round of cheers and applause, the wedding couple turned unexpectedly to Honor, who was sitting in the front row as requested. “I got something more to say,” Royale announced.

  Royale drew Honor up to stand beside her. “This lady is Mrs. Samuel Cathwell, the woman who freed me. Mrs. Cathwell wanted to free all her people, and because of that, she lost everything. I just wanted all of you to know what kind of lady she is.”

  Honor could no longer hide that her face was drenched in tears. Maybe tears at a wedding would be overlooked. Still, she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, hiding her quivering lips. Royale still did not want to reveal their blood tie in public, and that was her prerogative, but Honor felt their bond more than ever.

  Drawing up Judah’s hand, still tied to hers, Royale motioned for quiet, until silence loomed over them, broken only by a baby’s cry.

  A man with a rich, deep voice began singing.

  “The Lord, by Moses, to Pharaoh said:

  Oh! Let my people go.

  If not, I’ll smite your firstborn dead—

  Oh! Let my people go.

  “Oh! Go down, Moses,

  Away down to Egypt’s land,

  And tell King Pharaoh to let my people go.”

  Emotion electrified the room. Honor felt the thrill vibrate through her, and the hairs on her neck prickled. She’d never before realized that this song meant freedom to these people. Royale drew nearer, and Honor wept again with her friend’s arm around her.

  The song ended, and Royale released her. Honor returned to Samuel’s side and watched as Royale and Judah walked up the aisle to jump the broom at the door of the church.

  A thorn pierced Honor’s heart. Unlike Royale, she’d married a man who didn’t wed her out of love. She rose and left the church on Samuel’s arm, Eli and Caleb alongside. She knew that Samuel was capable of faithfulness, goodness, and kindness. Maybe it would have to be enough.

  After the wedding and luncheon, Judah and Royale stayed at his father’s home. They planned to spend their two-day honeymoon visiting friends and shopping to furnish the new cabin that would soon be built between the barn and the kitchen. Perlie had also decided to spend the days visiting friends. She had taught Honor how to cook a few simple dishes in recent months, and Honor assured her she could manage on her own.

  As Samuel and Honor passed Thad’s place in Sharpesburg, Eli and Caleb asked to stay behind to play with Thad’s son, who was starting to crawl. Honor declined to linger for conversation with Charity and her daughter-in-law. She insisted upon returning home. She didn’t feel ill, just tired, as she told Charity.

  At last, she and Samuel approached their house. Samuel signed that he was going to check on the cow in the meadow before heading inside.

  Being alone like this only accentuated the barrier between them. She nodded, realizing that he did not want to join her in the cabin any more than she wanted to be with him. She wondered if, for him, the wedding had stirred up all the undercurrents that she had felt. Untying her bonnet ribbons, Honor walked into the cabin.

  And halted. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t move.

  Alec Martin turned. His handsome face was flushed in the heat, yet he wore an impeccable riding suit, his white cravat still stiff and perfectly tied. He rushed to her and clasped her hands in his. “Honor, you’re more beautiful than I had remembered.”

  She fell back, bumping up against the wall. “Alec!” she finally gasped. “Why is thee here?”

  He had released her and now stood and stared at her. “My wife’s been here! I can see it in your eyes. That deranged woman has been here, telling her lies about me!”

  Honor could not think. She recalled that Darah and Sally had both testified to Alec’s rages. His fury ignited before her, and cold fear trickled through her.

  “Darah is insane!” he ranted, pacing up and down. “How could I have been so deceived by her? She falls and hurts herself and then blames me!”

  Every exculpatory word he uttered only convinced Honor that Darah had been telling the truth. Alec was the one who appeared deranged. Alarm ignited in the pit of her stomach. Would he vent his anger on her?

  They were alone. She could call for help, but Samuel could not hear. She must run to him. She edged toward the door.

  Alec blocked her way. “Tell me you believe me. I can’t bear for you, my sweet Honor, to think ill of me. It’s all lies! I am going to find Darah and take her home and lock her up. She’s a danger to others! To herself!”

  Honor skirted to the side, trying to ease past him to the door. She nearly said, I don’t know where she is. But she couldn’t tell him a lie, nor would she tell him the truth. “Alec, I cannot help thee.”

  He ignored her. “I should have married you and been happy. I could have talked you out of freeing your people. Darah … You don’t know the way she threw herself at me. If I had been older, more experienced, I would have seen her stratagems. You cannot imagine how I’ve regretted my actions that hurt you, my dear Honor.”

  Is this the man over whom I once felt such anguish? Any lingering resentment Honor might have held toward Darah was extinguished by Alec’s presence. This type of confrontation did not fit in her life. Honor continued to inch away from him. The open door was just a step farther …

  He moved forward and captured her by the shoulders. “To see you living here in this humble cabin. Oh, what have I done?” The words sounded artificial, as if on the way here he’d practiced all these phrases in an attempt to ensnare her. They only repelled her.

  Honor shrank from him, her fear racing, nearly making her light-headed. “Let me go, Alec!”

  “You should have been mine!” He bent to kiss her.

  She turned her head to the side and tried to pull away. Alec held on to her, gripping her tighter. Honor panicked and shrieked. If only Samuel could hear her!

  Striding toward the cabin, Samuel looked through the open door and gasped. A finely dressed man was trying to kiss his wife. Honor was attempting to get away. Fury shot through Samuel.

  “Stop!” Samuel roared, the first word he’d said aloud in many years. He charged into the room.

  His wife turned her head toward him. “Help me!” The words were plain on Honor’s mouth.

  Samuel grabbed the man with both hands and threw him backward. The intruder hit the wall and fell to the floor.

  Honor signed that the man was Alec, looking for Darah.

  Darah’s husband—the man who owned land that was rightfully Honor’s! Samuel’s hand itched to make the man hurt.

  Alec regained his feet and came at Samuel, his riding crop in hand.

  Samuel yanked the crop from him and tossed it away.

  Alec aimed a punch toward Samuel’s face.

  Samuel dodged it easily. He pummeled the man who’d hurt his wife, his Honor. Then it wasn’t just Alec he was hitting; it was all the men who’d ever looked at him as if he were a freak or dolt. A red haze filled his eyes. He felt his throat contract with rage.

  Then slender arms closed around his neck from behind. Who, what … ? Honor had wrapped her arms around him, pulling at him. He gasped, awakened from the haze.

  He reeled backward and looked down. Had he gone too far?

  Alec Martin slid to the floor, and Samuel realized that he’d backed the man against the wall and nearly beaten him senseless.

  Samuel staggered to a chair and collapsed.

  Honor bent to look at him. “Is thee all right?” she signed.

  He nodded, gasping, his knuckles aching and stinging.

  His wife bent forward and kissed his forehead
. Her fingers flew. “Thank thee. I was so frightened. How did thee know I needed thee?”

  “I noticed a strange horse tethered behind the kitchen.” Still panting from exertion and the mindless rage, he swallowed and leaned back, resting his head against the chair. He noted she made no effort to go to the man who sat on the floor, his head in his hands, and found satisfaction in the fact.

  Honor took a deep breath as Alec rose shakily to his feet. He stared at Honor and Samuel side by side, confronting him—united again, Honor realized. Alec’s split lip bled, and his shirt was disheveled and bloodied, one eye already showing bruising.

  “I see you believed that lying, insane wife of mine,” Alec said in an ugly tone she’d never heard him use before today.

  She signed this for Samuel and replied, “Yes, we do. Please leave. And don’t return.”

  “Where is Darah?” Alec demanded.

  Samuel grabbed Honor’s arm. “Tell him he will never find her.” She did.

  Alec swore violently at them.

  Samuel must have sensed this and moved to his feet, approaching Alec. “Tell him to leave before I throw his unconscious body off my land.”

  Honor took satisfaction in repeating this.

  Alec cursed her again, picked up his battered hat, and passed her with a sneer. “You deserve this, Honor Penworthy. Living in a sty with a deaf pig.”

  Honor didn’t deign to reply, merely stared at him with all the disdain she could muster. Soon she heard hoofbeats and, from the doorway, saw Alec speed away.

  Though tears flowed, she turned and poured water into a basin. She motioned for Samuel to pull the rocker close to the table. With trembling fingers, she washed the blood from his hands and applied iodine to his broken skin. Alec had barely touched her husband. Only a faint bruise on his jaw appeared.

  When she’d finished caring for him, she leaned over and kissed his mouth, something she hadn’t done for weeks. The feel of his lips caressing hers drew her closer. “Thank thee. He terrified me.”

  To soothe her, Samuel urged her onto his lap, nestling her softness against him. They had been apart so long. Feeling how she still shook, he wanted to say something calming to her, really speak to her, let her know how deeply he felt for her at this moment. But aside from his outburst at Alec, he never spoke words aloud. Could he say what he wanted? Would his unusual voice repel her, as it had others when he was a boy?