by Jody Hedlund
She ducked into the one-room cottage where Sister Norton and Sister Spencer lived, grateful for the darkness of the early dawn. The glow of the fire cast flickering shadows and illuminated Lucy’s children sprawled on pallets near the hearth.
Elizabeth stepped around buckets and benches and placed the basket of bread on the table. Sister Spencer stood across from her, sawing through the crusty end of their last loaf.
Elizabeth nodded at her.
The widow pressed her lips together in a tight frown that vanished into the folds of her face.
Did everyone in Bedford believe the rumors about her and Brother Costin? Her heart burned with mortification. Didn’t they know her well enough to realize she was incapable of anything even remotely brazen when it came to men?
She lifted the warm wheaten loaves from the basket and placed them on the table. Then she slipped her arm through the basket handle and fumbled back toward the door.
Lucy lifted her eyebrows. “I always wondered why you were so set on savin’ that baby’s life.”
“For the same reason I deliver bread—because I want to help anyone in need.” She was tempted to remind Lucy of all the times she’d given her bread and assisted her. But she bit back the words. She’d have her chance on the Sabbath to defend herself. The elders wanted her to make a public statement in defense of John before the start of the service.
“I must be on my way to the Costins’,” she said. “Are you leaving now, Lucy? We can walk together.”
Lucy glanced at Sister Spencer.
The woman gave a slight shake of her head.
Lucy tucked a strand of her neatly plaited hair under her coif. She wore clean and mended clothes. Her face was unblemished, the lacerations and bruises a thing of the past. Except for a few scars, she had nothing left to tell the tale of her previous life with Fulke.
“I ’ave to shift the babe first, see?” Lucy looked down at her hands.
“Very well.” Elizabeth nodded and stepped out of the cottage, wishing she could as easily shed her shame.
“Ah, good morning, my dear,” Sister Norton said as she emerged from the corner of the cottage carrying two baskets laden with produce from the large garden she grew behind their home. The widow smiled, her eyes alight with her usual warm greeting.
Elizabeth’s throat tightened in an ache of gratitude. At least one of her friends hadn’t believed the rumors.
“Truly the harvest is more plentiful this year than I have ever seen,” Sister Norton said.
“Praise be to the Lord,” Elizabeth replied. “I believe He’s blessing you for your generosity in caring for Lucy despite your own struggle to survive.”
“Praise to the Lord is the truth. As I told Sister Spencer, if we are obedient to Him, He will provide. Moreover, I would rather starve in this short, temporary life and do what pleases Him, than starve for eternity in that place of judgment away from Him.”
“I cannot but think He’s pleased by the progress you’ve made with Lucy.”
Sister Norton lowered the baskets of vegetables to the ground. Some she would sell at the town market. The others she would save for the winter, either by drying or storing.
Elizabeth pictured the bean plants in the Costin garden, bent under the weight of the harvest and ready for picking. Who would dry the beans for winter now? John would surely have trouble finding someone else to finish all she’d started.
“Ah, ah, poor Lucy. Would that I progressed more with the state of her soul. What benefit is the washing away of her outward filth when her soul languishes in the mire?”
Elizabeth nodded, but her thoughts were tied to the Costins. How would the children survive without the proper stores?
Desperation clutched her insides. It had plagued her all night, since she had acquiesced to Samuel’s ultimatum. She reached a hand to her side, to the pain there.
Sister Norton clucked. “You poor, poor dear. Your back is still hurting?”
Lathered with salve and fresh bandages, her back was the least of her agonies at the present. “It does pain me a little. But ’tis the greater heartache at what I must do this morn that pains me most.”
The tall widow tilted her head.
“Samuel has insisted I stop working for the Costins or he won’t marry me. I go this morning to say good-bye to the children. ’Twill be my last day.”
Sister Norton searched Elizabeth’s face and eyes. “I didn’t think you’d marry the cooper.”
“You didn’t?”
“Ah, ah, my dear. It’s obvious you’ve grown to care about our Brother Costin.”
“Oh no.” Heat rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks. “No. Most certainly not.”
Sister Norton smiled.
“I won’t deny I’ve grown to love his children. But him? No. Most certainly not.” She forced a laugh at the thought.
“You may not yet realize it, my dear. But I’ve seen the signs oft enough to know. You love Brother Costin.”
“Absolutely not.” Embarrassment steamed over her like vapor from a boiling pot. “I think you’re mistaking me for Catherine or any of the other maidens in our congregation.”
“Ah, my dear, I’ve seen the look in your eyes when Brother Costin is near. And I haven’t seen that look when you’re with Samuel. It’s the look of a maid in love, to besure.”
“ ’Tis true I don’t have affections for Samuel. Ours is a practical match, a partnership. But I certainly don’t have affections for Brother Costin. I’m in his employ. Nothing more.”
“Surely you have felt differences in your regards of Brother Costin from Samuel.” She cocked her head, as if daring Elizabeth to contradict her.
’Twould be a lie to do so. She had felt differences, but it didn’t mean she loved him. “I have admiration for Brother Costin. He is an appealing man in many ways.”
The widow smiled gently and knowingly.
“But,” Elizabeth continued, “ ’tis only admiration you see in my eyes. That’s all.”
“Ah, my dear, but I see more than admiration in his eyes for you too.”
“That can’t be.”
“I witnessed the concern he had for you when you were sick. And I was there when he rushed to your side the day Lucy was in the pillory. I saw the way he looked at you.”
She didn’t need to ask what Sister Norton was talking about. Her mind replayed the time outside the bakehouse on the day of Lucy’s beating, when he’d kneeled before her. The intensity of his gaze had taken her breath away; the softness of his fingers on her cheek still made her stomach flutter. She would never forget. The sensations were burned into her memory forever.
But one moment of attention did not mean John cared for her. She was his housekeeper. That was all. He had grown to value her work. Had he not specifically asked for her to be his housekeeper, even after having the chance to have Catherine? He liked her work. And now he needed her help so that he could continue his ministry.
“Give him time, Elizabeth, my dear.” Sister Norton reached for the baskets of vegetables and looped her arm through each one. “He is still grieving for his dear Mary. But he’s shown there is room in his heart to love again.”
Elizabeth shook her head with a rush of denial. “Even if he should love again, why would he ever want someone like me? I count myself fortunate that Samuel Muddle is willing to marry me.”
“Ah, ah, my dear, you are a sweet child. But you’re naïve and most certainly don’t give yourself enough esteem.” The widow moved toward the cottage door and bumped it with her elbow to open it.
“I only try to see my outlook truthfully.”
With another bump, Sister Norton pushed the door open. “You are an attractive girl, my dear. It’s time for you to see that.”
A rebuttal formed on her lips.
Sister Norton gave her a sharp look that silenced any argument. “Far be it from me to tell you what to do, my dear.” She hefted the baskets higher on her arms, the weight hunching her shoulders. “This I will say, though. You’re a de
sirable young woman. Any man would be fortunate to take you as his wife.”
* * *
“Any man would be fortunate to take you as his wife.”
Elizabeth shuffled her feet, kicking up dust. The words pounded through her mind to her soul.
She knew what the words meant: Sister Norton didn’t believe Samuel Muddle was her one and only prospect for marriage.
But how could the widow possibly be right? Plain Elizabeth Whitbread? Desirable?
Elizabeth’s clutch on her bread basket was as tight as the agony that gripped her heart. No man had ever paid her any attention until Samuel. And anything John had shown her was just a fleeting moment of a dream.
What did the widow know? Elizabeth swung the basket in a burst of indignation. She was mistaken to think Elizabeth had grown to love John. ’Twas an absolutely absurd notion. More preposterous was the conception John might have feelings for her.
She reached up and tucked a stray wisp of hair back under her coif. Surely she was still as plain as she was always? She sucked in her stomach. The rough linen slipped lower on her waist. She had grown thinner in the past weeks, mostly due to her illness.
But that didn’t mean she’d somehow grown more desirable, did it? She lifted her hand to her cheek, then to her nose. Her features hadn’t changed.
She dropped her arm with a short laugh. ’Twas vain to be thinking of such things. She would do best to focus on the difficult task of saying good-bye to the children.
When she arrived at the Costins’, she stopped at the door. Her body tensed with the dread of facing the sweet little faces and kissing them good-bye.
Giggles from within the cottage tore at her heart and brought tears to her eyes.
She couldn’t put off the inevitable. She’d come to say good-bye, and now she must do it. With a deep breath, she forced the door open and stepped inside.
“You’re here!”
Before she could close the door or set her basket down, Mary flung her arms around her and buried her face into her chest.
Elizabeth bit back a cry of pain from the pressure against the wounds in her back.
“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back.” The words trembled on the trail of a sob.
Elizabeth dropped the bread basket and wrapped the girl in an embrace. Unshed tears squeezed Elizabeth’s throat, making it ache.
“She’s back!” Betsy rushed to her and threw herself onto Elizabeth too, with Johnny following, wheedling his body into the melee.
With a choke, Elizabeth opened her arms to receive them. She pressed a kiss onto each of their heads, her tears anointing them with her love. Her embrace tightened as the anguish in her chest radiated outward. How could she say good-bye? How could she leave them when she loved them so?
“Father didn’t think you would choose us,” Mary said, her tangled golden curls falling over tear-streaked cheeks. “He said Samuel would win.”
Elizabeth smiled through her tears. Did men have to make everything a competition?
“I knew you would want us,” Betsy said with a smile that filled her face. “I know I cannot call you Momma, but that’s what you are.”
“Momma,” Johnny repeated, letting go and jumping up and down.
She couldn’t speak past the constriction of her throat, and the agony of what she must do pierced her.
“We won’t let anything else happen to you,” Betsy said, stepping back and gazing at her with earnest eyes. “Father said we wouldn’t let you get hurt again.”
“That is very kind of you.” Elizabeth swiped her cheeks, trying to dry them, knowing she would be safe but not because of anything John might do to protect her. She would be safe because she would no longer be with them. She would be with Samuel. And that would be the protected, secure life she wanted. Would it not?
“Good day, Elizabeth.” John’s voice came from behind her, from the open doorway.
Using her sleeve to finish drying her cheeks, she spun around. Flames spurted into her cheeks at the thought of John overhearing the children’s declarations. Surely that one little word Momma would drum up his anger.
He filled the doorframe and leaned against the post, his arms crossed at his chest. In the shadows of the cottage, his eyes were dark and unreadable. For a moment she wished she could run to a place where she wouldn’t have to face his disappointment and anger. For he would surely find no pleasure in her company once she shared her decision.
“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.
“Good day, Brother Costin.” But ’twas not a good day. ’Twas indeed a horrible day, as he would soon know.
“Methinks it could not have been an easy decision for you to make.”
“ ’Twas the hardest decision I have ever made.” Even now she wondered if she had chosen correctly. Was she right to accept Samuel’s ultimatum?
John shoved away from the doorframe and crossed the short span that separated them. When he stood in front of her, she saw the softness in his eyes. “I’ve had much time to think since the Sabbath meeting, and perhaps Samuel is right. My home is too dangerous for you.”
His words toppled the precarious defenses she’d tried to build. He didn’t want her? Was he letting her go that easily? “But I thought you needed help—”
He put a finger to her lips.
The warmth of his skin brushed against the sensitive fullness of her lips and silenced her words and thoughts.
“How can I leave every morning, wondering what will happen in my absence, worrying if you and the children are safe while I’m away?”
“I would never let anything happen to the children—”
The pressure of his finger stopped her. “You truly have a servant’s heart and have only sought to help me in my time of direst need, without ulterior motives, with no thought of reward.”
The feathery lightness of his finger sent finches to flight in her middle. At his merest touch she could think of nothing else, nothing but his nearness and the gentle cadence of his voice.
“Even though I know you would continue to sacrifice for me and the children, I don’t want you to get hurt again, Elizabeth.” His voice turned to whisper. “I truly don’t.”
“I am not easily downtrodden,” she whispered against his finger. “Besides, since you are putting yourself in harm’s way for the sake of the Gospel, should not the rest of us sacrifice our comfort as well?”
His eyes took on a spark. He moved a step back, lifting his finger, leaving her lips barren for his warmth. “I would expect the slanders and attacks against myself. But I cannot bear it against a helpless woman.”
“Helpless?” She straightened her shoulders, the light in his eyes suddenly igniting a spark in her. “Brother Costin, I am far from helpless. My attacker may have caught me off guard these times past, but not again.”
“Then you are not afraid of another attack?”
“I may not be much, Brother Costin.” Her blood pumped with the passion of her words. “But if I am anything, I am a strong woman.”
His flashing eyes locked with hers.
“I won’t cower. And in this we are alike, are we not?”
He said nothing for a long moment. Then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I don’t deserve your help, Elizabeth. But I am beholden to you for choosing to come back, even against the danger, against the slanders, and against the possible ruination of your reputation.”
Her next word and breath stopped short. What had he said? Did he think she was choosing to remain his housekeeper? “No. You’re mistaken—”
“Methinks you are altogether too humble.”
“No. You’ve misunderstood me.”
Mary stiffened and released her.
Turmoil rolled through Elizabeth. She had come to say good-bye and had somehow made them believe she was back to stay. What had happened?
Mary stood by her side rigid and silent. But John had turned away. He scooped Johnny into his arms and tousled the boy’s hair.
&nb
sp; Elizabeth didn’t know what to say, how to begin to explain the true nature of her visit that morning.
Mary’s hand grasped her arm in a tight, biting grip, and Elizabeth realized the girl knew—this beautiful blind child could see what none of the others did.
“It’s a victory for me to have you stay.” John reached for a wedge of dry cheese on the table. “ ’Twill not be what my enemies are expecting, and it’ll teach them they can’t harass me into doing what they want.”
He took a bite of the hard cheese and gave the rest to Johnny. When he turned to face her, he looked at her too innocently. Had he realized her true plan also?
“By standing strong with me, you will fight this battle against those who would stop the Gospel from being preached.”
She cocked her head at him. Now was it his turn to persuade her? After he’d goaded her to agree with him?
“Therewith, if we give in to our enemies, they’ll continue to control the minds and wills of the commoner, and by so doing, effectively keep from them the truths of salvation.” His voice echoed with passion. “We must, each one of us, take up the cause and stand firm.”
How could she disagree now, when she’d already pleaded the very same case? Turbulence wove through her. “But I must think of Samuel—”
“And Samuel must do his part too.” He set Johnny down and reached for Betsy, who stood before him with outstretched arms. “If he allows you to remain as housekeeper, then he will have a hand in the saving work of God. Surely you, Elizabeth, with your eloquent tongue, could convince Samuel of this?”
His tone dared her. She shook her head. “You are the one with the eloquent tongue today, Brother Costin. You have me talking in circles. But the truth is, I cannot defy Samuel.”
John was quiet for a long moment before setting Betsy down. He gave her a pat and then stalked past her toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and pinned his gaze upon her. “Man’s efforts shall not stop me from carrying on the work to which God has called me.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were irreversibly drawn to him. The fire within him spread to her, a powerful force. The Spirit of God was with John Costin in a mighty way.
How could she oppose him? Was she foolish to even try?
