Jewel of Promise

by Marian Wells

  As they left the stable, the wind tore at Beth’s shawl. “I hate winter,” she murmured. Pressing her shoulders against Mike, she added, “You must be cold too; that jacket doesn’t look heavy enough.”

  “I’d have been colder walking,” he murmured into her hair. “This is a pleasant surprise; I feared you’d moved on to Pittsburgh or some such place.”

  “Well, life isn’t any more exciting, but I’ll stick to my job until spring at least. Mabel Croan is there—in Pittsburgh. Her sister Abby says Mabel isn’t saving any money because it costs so much to live there. Even with paying Sadie, I’ve managed a new dress and coat this autumn.”

  Looking beyond her, Mike said, “It’s too dark to see the Cassaway’s meadow. Are they still drilling there?”

  Beth stiffened. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Roald has returned. Says he’ll probably be here until next summer. He’s of the impression they’ll have him training soldiers instead of fighting. I hope so.” They rode in silence.

  In the Coopers’ barn he lifted her from the horse and noted she made no effort to move away from him. He tilted her chin and kissed her. She stepped back from his arms. “Brother Mike,” she teased, laughing up at him as she whirled away toward the house.

  Feeling as if the events of the past month were only a dream, Mike entered the Coopers’ kitchen and sniffed the air. “Apple pie? Sadie, how did you know I was coming?”

  She pinched his cheek gently. “’Twas a bird, no doubt. Now don’t ask why I’ve been baking apple pies three times a week for the past two months.”

  Amos came into the kitchen. “Welcome back, Mike. Have exciting tales to give us?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Sir, I suppose you’ve been reading about the doings on the Mississippi. We took a transport down to Fort Belmont with Grant’s men. They got shot up pretty bad but managed to make it back to the boat. That General Grant seems to know his stuff.”

  “Wish we could say that of McClellan,” Amos said with a sad shake of his head. He patted Mike’s shoulder. “Good to have thee home, son.”

  Sadie said, “Just today we had a letter from Alex and Olivia. They’ve stayed in South Carolina because of Mother Duncan. The doctors didn’t give any hope for her recovery. ’Tis her heart. So I don’t know when we’ll see them.”

  She turned to Beth. “Thy lieutenant stopped to remind thee that he shall be unable to take thee to the party tonight. It seems he’ll be soldiering.” She paused, glanced at Mike, and added heavily, “’Tis well thee always has a spare.” And then as if to make amends, she added, “The bonny ones never lack for attention.”

  Beth looked up and saw Mike watching her with his sad, questioning expression. She threw him a dimpled smile, but as she went into the kitchen she chewed her lip.

  Sadie handed her the platter of meat and vegetables. “’Tis sometimes a hard row to hoe, being bonny. Beth, thee must be more tender with hearts, or thou wilt find thyself shunned.”

  Beth sighed, looked at Sadie, and said slowly, “Do you know I don’t intend this? I wish Mike didn’t act as if I’m the only young woman in the county.”

  “Thou doesn’t care for him.”

  She stared at Sadie. It was a statement, not a question. “He’s—not exciting. I always know what he’s thinking, and he’s always there. With him, love isn’t a game; it’s terribly serious and—”

  Sadie nodded. “Not a challenge. And thou art too young for anything except games.” She placed the neat slices of bread on the plate and handed it to Beth. “Thou would be bored with marriage once thou managed to get acquainted with thy husband.”

  “Oh, I hope not,” she murmured. “Because I’ve every intention of marrying Roald Fairmont.”

  “Then why art thou teasing Michael?”

  She shrugged. “The rumor gets back to Roald, and he’s green with jealousy. I’ve discovered that helps.” She watched Sadie go into the keeping room, shaking her head as she walked.

  For a moment Beth paused to listen to the homey sounds: the laughter, the clink of dishes. Somehow the sounds made her feel more lonesome than ever. Beth tried to smile as she went to the table, noting how the whole room seemed to glow from the warmth, laughter, and the aroma of good food.

  Mike was watching her, but she carefully avoided his eyes as she took her place at the table. After the apple pie, he said, “I’ll take you to your party—”

  “Oh, no, Mike, I—” she paused, seeing the hurt on his face. “I’d rather stay home this evening. It’s—so cold.” Her own impetuous words astonished her. She gulped, trying to ignore the disappointment welling up inside.

  There was a perplexed frown on Sadie’s face as she began to gather the dishes. “Thou can make popcorn,” she murmured, nodding at Mike.

  “I think Mike would rather tell Amos about his navy life,” Beth said. “I’ll help you with dishes.”

  Later Beth went to sit on the stool beside Sadie. She took up the skein of wool and slowly wound it into a ball as she listened to Mike and Amos. Watching Mike covertly, she noted dark shadows where before there had been only serious Irish eyes. He was describing the sights and sounds of battle, and Beth’s attention was caught.

  “I’d never given the process of battle much thought,” he muttered, staring into the fire. “But it gets to you. It’s cold, determined slaughter. Young fellas going out, tight-lipped and white-faced, coming back exhausted, their bodies bloodied and their faces suddenly old.”

  “Mike, thou art a Christian. How does thou reconcile the loving Savior and His influence in thy life with murdering thy fellow man?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said miserably. “I keep thinking of those men out there. Alive one minute, and then—”

  He turned to Sadie. “Yet, there are reasons for fighting. We’ve all worked to see the slaves have a chance to survive. That means breaking the law. That’s wrong. Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to live without doing somebody an injustice. How do we decide which wrong is more acceptable?”

  “Mike,” Beth protested, “you know the South is fighting for freedom, not slavery. We fight because the North is forcing us to. Why should we in the South act and live as the North decides we should?”

  Mike watched as she talked, his eyes narrowed. “Beth, it depends on who’s doing the talking. Here’s another interesting point. In the North you can protest against the North and no one even slaps your hands. In the South I dare not voice a complaint against the South. Why is that?”

  She tossed her head impatiently. “Mike, I think you are trying to pick a quarrel. I’ve never had any problem airing my strong opinions.”

  “Might be that your opinions don’t differ from the rest of the South,” Mike said slowly. He got to his feet. “Sadie, where is the popcorn?”

  When the last of the popcorn had been eaten, Amos reached for his big Bible. “Sadie and I’ll be reading this aloud to thee, and then we’ll take ourselves off to bed.”

  With the thick book on his lap and his finger finding the place, he read, “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts…. So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing hereto I sent it. For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.’”

  Beth watched Amos’ gnarled hands close the book, tenderly stroking the worn cover. He got to his feet. “Mike, will you put backlogs on for me? Don’t forget the keeping room. Feels cold tonight. Might snow. Come, wife.” With a smile he reached for Sadie’s hand.

  Beth stared into the dying flames. “‘Go out with joy, and be led forth with peace,’” she murmured. “That sounds like a very good thing to have—joy and peace.”

&nb
sp; “But it’s also true,” Mike insisted.

  She hesitated. “Mike, it’s poetry; you can’t expect these kinds of things in real life.”

  Mike looked up and met her eyes. “Joy and peace are two things Jesus promises to His followers.”

  “Are you a follower?”

  “Yes, most certainly. Beth—”

  She stood up and yawned. “Mike, I’m a working girl. Goodnight.” She wiggled her fingers at him and with a teasing grin headed for the stairs.

  Mike watched until she disappeared from sight. With a sigh he got up and reached for a log, murmuring, “‘So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void.’”

  He placed the log, stared at the dying embers, and said, “Lord, that’s a promise. Help me give Beth Your words. She’s starting to be very important to me.”

  But as he closed the door to his room, he thought of his ardent kiss and Beth’s teasing “Brother Mike.” He felt his face grow warm. He sat on the edge of his bed and muttered, “After all my resolve, I’ve done it again. I’d not want a fellow running after my girl. I can’t let her be important to me, except as a sister. Lord, what can I say? I’m ashamed—sorry. I’ll never be able to help her at this rate. Guess I’d better learn to act like a brother.”

  ****

  That next week, with the snow falling and the wind blowing, Mike opened the door to Roald Fairmont. Stomping the snow from his boots, he came to the fire. “We were to go to the Jordan’s home for a party,” he said, hanging his coat on the hall rack, “but I’m fearful for Beth. It’s very cold.”

  He turned as she came down the stairs. “Oh, Roald, what a disappointment. It’s terrible outside!”

  “I can’t believe that anyone will venture out on such an evening,” he declared, taking her extended hand and drawing her into the room.

  “But stay,” she insisted. “We can find games to play, and perhaps Sadie will let us make molasses candy. Certainly it’s cold enough!”

  Sadie came into the parlor. “’Tis cold enough for ice cream and snowmen, too. Good evening, Lieutenant Fairmont. Thou art more than welcome. I do believe thou should stay until morning; ’tis dangerous to be out in this weather.”

  “I heard bells, do you have a sleigh?” Mike asked. Fairmont nodded, and Mike headed for the door. “I’ll put the horses in the barn.”

  When he returned to the house, Roald and Beth had joined Amos in the keeping room. Sadie was in the kitchen. Beth nodded toward her. “She’s making donuts.”

  “I’ll help.” Mike started for the kitchen. “I haven’t had donuts since I left here in August.”

  “No need for help right now,” Sadie called. “They must rise before cutting.”

  Roald turned as Mike came back to the fire. “Beth tells me you’ve joined the navy.”

  “Not exactly,” he said slowly, sitting down in a rocking chair. “I was commandeered. Seems the navy is seriously deficient in steamboat pilots.”

  “They keeping you busy?”

  He nodded. “Spent some time getting the vessels in running order. Took some transports down the Mississippi. Grant had a supporting skirmish at Belmont.”

  “Did you take it?”

  “No. It would have been nice, but that wasn’t our main purpose. Besides—” he paused, grinning, “Fort Columbus across the river started pitching balls at us. Sure have a bunch of big guns.” Mike paused. “Beth tells me you’ll be training fellows here.”

  “Looks like it for now. I’d rather be in the thick of it. This war’s dragging on too long.” Restlessly he crossed his legs and glanced at Mike. “Not that I had a great deal of confidence in the ninety-day plan. How do you see the whole situation?”

  Amos leaned forward. “’Tis a shame we can’t find a peaceable way of settling the whole affair. It frightens me to see the young fellows heading out like they’re going to a picnic. Matter of fact, I don’t believe anything easily won is worth much.”

  Roald leaned forward. “Did I hear you right? Are you saying you think a victory now is without much value?”

  “Certainly. Not that I’m in favor of fighting,” he said hastily, as Sadie came to the door. “It’s a feeling that when there are two strong forces, there’s going to be one hard fight, clear down to the finish.”

  Amos studied the fire, chuckled, and looked at Roald. “When I was a young’un growing up, we had a tomcat on the place. The neighbors down the way also had a tom. Neither one of us had any trouble with our cats until there was a reason, and then, oh, how they did fight! A pretty little miss cat moved into the territory, and then the action began.”

  “Sir, I don’t think we’re behaving like tomcats,” Roald protested. “At least the North isn’t. We’re only bent on preserving the Union.”

  “And ruining the South.” Beth lifted her chin. “Roald, you know we only want to go out of the Union in peace. If you soldiers would simply stop fighting, there’d be no problems.” She looked around the circle of serious eyes. “I can’t understand y’all. Why does it matter one way or another whether we have slavery, even if we stay in the Union?” She flounced her long red hair impatiently. “I know. The United States is just like Mike.”

  “Me?” He protested in amazement as she turned to him.

  “Yes, you. You’re as pigheaded as anyone else in the North, wanting to tell us what is wrong with us. Take slavery for instance. When the South says slavery is God’s will, then what right have you to say it isn’t?”

  Amos’ voice rumbled out, “Little lady, there’s a standard the Lord wants us to use in deciding. Hast thou heard of the Golden Rule? Do unto others what thou would have them to do unto you? Well, methinks thou can’t say slavery is right until thou art willing to be a slave thyself.”

  “But these people wouldn’t have anyone to take care of them if they were freed.”

  Mike leaned forward to look at her. “They are humans, just as we are. In the first place, they were forced to leave their homeland; in the second place, we’ve never done anything to make it possible for them to learn a trade, get an education, or have a voice in making decisions.”

  “But don’t blame this all on God,” Roald said with a chuckle. “Leave Him out of the deal. We’ve made our bed, we’ll have to handle the whole situation the best we can.”

  Sadie sat down beside Beth. “Thou means thou hast no understanding of God being interested in the way thee lives?”

  Roald shook his head. “I’ve no understanding of God. It seems foolish to believe that someone is in control of all this mess. Why doesn’t He do something about it all?”

  “Hast thou asked Him?”

  “Thou would have a sense of God,” Amos said, “if thou would look for Him.”

  “An abstract idea,” Roald said impatiently.

  “But the results aren’t abstract,” Mike put in.

  “Heaven, eternal life?” Roald shook his head. “The whole idea is based on unprovable statements.”

  “Love, joy, peace—maybe not tangible, but certainly provable. One day you don’t have them, and the next you do.” Mike glanced at Beth and watched her eyes widen.

  He looked back at Roald. “War is bad. I’ve a feeling it’s going to get worse. How does a fella go into battle not knowing whether he’ll come back?” He waited while Roald stared into the fire with a half-smile on his face. “I believe I’d want to know whether or not there’s a God up there listening when I pray.”

  Chapter 16

  As Olivia put her bonnet on, she asked, “Alex, are you certain you want me to go with you to see this man, Lawrence Reingold? You haven’t met him, after all. Your only contact with him is this letter you received yesterday.”

  “Yes, it’ll save my having to repeat the whole conversation when I get back.” He grinned and kissed her cheek.

  “Oh, Alex! I don’t want to keep him from being candid.”

  “Knowing you, I expect you’ll keep him answering questions before he can think o
f what he’s saying. Besides, since we know that he is a friend of Mrs. Armstrong, we should have little fear of baring our concerns before him. Come along, my dear.”

  As they entered the office indicated in Mr. Reingold’s letter, Alex grinned at Olivia. He had seen the sparkle of approval in her eyes as she looked at the building, seeing the busy men hurrying in and out, and a line of important-looking stenographers.

  As soon as they stepped through the door of the law office, a young man left his desk and came to them. “Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Duncan, I presume. Come this way; Mr. Reingold will see you immediately.”

  In the office, a gray-haired man turned from the window and came toward them. Alex thought he relaxed slightly as he glanced from Olivia to the card he held. “Mrs. Armstrong has asked me to see you. Come sit down and tell me what I can do for you.”

  Caught off guard, Alex hesitated, and Olivia said, “Then you must be in sympathy with Mrs. Armstrong. She’s such a delightful person. But I think she’s of the opinion we’re—” She hesitated and looked at Alex.

  “You’re in an uncomfortable position in Richmond, especially if you intend to announce your loyalties. Mrs. Armstrong can get by with such indiscretions simply because her family has been part of Richmond since before the turn of the century. We tolerate a great deal from old family.”

  The man moved around his desk and pulled a chair close to them. “If you need a pass for the trains, I can provide that. However, I must urge you to pick your destination with care, and be advised that from here north, it will be difficult to travel.”

  He paused and settled back in his chair with a slight smile. “It appears the Union is putting nearly as many spies in the South as we are placing in Washington.”

  “Spies?” Olivia gasped.

  Alex leaned forward. “Is that so? I didn’t realize this was going on. But, sir, we aren’t spies.”

  “Then what is your purpose?”

  Alex hesitated before saying, “We’ve been hearing about the large number of people in the South who are in reality supporters of the Union. We understand they don’t want war or secession.” He shrugged. “I’ve been beating the bushes in South Carolina trying to raise some strong Union sympathy.”