Labor of Love

by Felicia Rogers

  Lorcan stood in front of them, his spine stiff. His brows drew together and hints of red flooded his face. “Louisa, if ye leave now then don’t bother to come back.”

  Running to him, Louisa pleaded. “Lorcan, please, I am yer wife, and I wish to remain so.”

  Sorcha thought she might be sick.

  “Can’t be. Ye wanted to retain yer new — fangled religious ideas, and I put up with that. But now ye is distrusting the word of my son, and I can’t abide by it.”

  Righteous indignation rose up in Louisa as she rose to her full height. “How dare ye? Ye accuse me of distrusting yer son, yet ye distrust my daughter. Ye know what I believe?”

  Fear entered Lorcan’s eyes. “What?”

  “I believe Sorcha was telling the truth the whole time. I believe Festus attacked her in the stables.”

  “Nay!” shouted Lorcan.

  “The minister wasn’t even here when it happened. There is no way he could be responsible.”

  Gone was Lorcan’s worry, it was replaced with an arrogant confidence. “Is that all ye got — her word against what everyone else believes? Go ahead and abandon me. Run to yer daughter’s lover. It will only prove I tell the truth.”

  Her mother froze in place. With great sorrow Sorcha turned and headed back toward her room in the loft, but before she took more than a few steps she was surprised by the lilting voice of her mother. “Lorcan, I am leaving to find safety for my daughter. Although we are unequally yoked, I’ll pray daily ye will find yer way to the faith. But know this, I will return, for I shall never abandon my husband.”

  With the door open, Louisa beckoned Sorcha as an astonished Lorcan looked on.

  Chapter Six

  In the village circle there were several small homesteads, a central garden, and one long wooden framed house that sat at the pinnacle. This house originally belonged to the owner of the land. When he passed, he gave it to the church to be used as a meeting house, a house for the clergy, and a place for those in need. Louisa headed there to request sanctuary for Sorcha.

  Sorcha wanted to thank her mother, but she didn’t know what to say. Her mother had just sacrificed everything for her. When they reached the minister’s house, Sorcha turned around and spoke to her mother. “Nay, Ma I can’t go in there.”

  “Ye have to. Ye told me Samuel was kindly toward ye. I am sure he won’t turn ye away.”

  “Ma, won’t this make it worse?”

  “I don’t know if it will make it better, and I don’t know if it will make it worse. What I do know is in his house, ye will have peace.”

  Sorcha nodded. They walked arm — in — arm up the steps, until they reached the front door. A parchment hung there. Louisa handed her the note, and Sorcha struggled to make sense of the words. Giving up, they gave each other a look and pushed open the door. All his visitors must have left for as they walked along the hallway, a hollow echo rang through the air.

  Louisa picked one of the vacant bedrooms and went about preparing it. Sorcha searched through the larder for something to eat. When Louisa was finished, she came and sat at the large dining room table. In a brief space of time, Sorcha had created a masterpiece.

  Sorcha came in from the kitchen and saw her mother weeping bitterly. She could go to her mother and wipe away her tears, telling her everything would be all right, but she thought maybe her mother needed to realize it on her own. Once Louisa’s tears stopped, Sorcha came into the room carrying the main course.

  “It smells delicious. I had almost forgotten what a good cook ye are.”

  Shyly, Sorcha replied, “I did learn from the best.”

  After her statement, mother and daughter shared the meal. They enjoyed each other’s company for the first time in a long time.

  ****

  Louisa tried to return home to Lorcan, but true to his word he refused her entrance. A few meager belongings had been placed on the porch. Her shoulders back, and her spine stiff, she gathered her things.

  Lorcan opened the door and yelled as Louisa left. “Ye will never get away with this.”

  Saddened, Louisa took her things and headed back to the main house to stay with Sorcha. Three days passed, and still no Samuel. A neighbor told them Samuel had left to post a missive in town and would not be back for a few days.

  As Louisa swept the vast kitchen, she worried her lip. Could the young minister have met with foul play? Imagination running wild, her worries didn’t stop with vague ideas. They were carried much farther.

  Lorcan held quite a rapport with the Catholic community. He had been heavily involved with moving the Irish from Laois and Offaly counties and insuring the king and queen received their Irish lands. Common man being allowed to read and understand the word of God in their own language was something Lorcan had never agreed with. Why, her husband didn’t even understand Latin! How could he deny even himself the ability to read the Word?

  As she swept the debris from the floor, the idiocy of his position and the stupidity of her marrying such a man, riled her. The angrier she became the harder she swept.

  ****

  “Don’t rub my floor clean away, Louisa.”

  Louisa shrieked.

  Voices and her mother’s shriek had Sorcha stumbling from her room, through the hallway, and into the front area. “I heard noises — ” Sorcha stopped in mid-speech. There Samuel stood, a rope tied around his waist.

  Sorcha was beyond excited to see Samuel. Heedless of what might happen she ran to him, leapt into the air, and landed in his waiting arms. His packages scattered upon the floor, all but forgotten.

  “Well this is a mighty interesting welcome,” Samuel said, as he set Sorcha to the side and retrieved the fallen packages.

  Sorcha bent over to help him. Smack! Their heads whacked against one another.

  Samuel stood and helped her to a chair. “Ye rest, and let me get this mess up, aye?”

  Sorcha nodded as she cradled her aching head. A smile split her face at Samuel’s presence.

  Samuel’s long, graceful fingers picked up the items and placed them on the square table that rested in the middle of the room. She wanted to be patient and wait until he was seated and relaxed before harassing him with unending questions, but unfortunately for him that wasn’t her personality.

  The last item lifted, Samuel stood and grinned. Instead of smiling back words fell from her gullet like a rushing wind. “Where have ye been?”

  ****

  Sorcha‘s questioning gave Samuel pause. He hadn’t had anyone speak to him thusly since he was a wee lad. Dander rising, he sensed Louisa staring at her daughter on the verge of a lecture in the finer points of not being rude. Just as quickly as his own ire flared it diminished. He made a small fist and slightly nudged her chin in affection. “Worried about me, was ye?”

  Sorcha blushed, turning from pink to a fiery red. Samuel added, “I must say it is good to be missed.” He paused. “Did ye not see my note?”

  Louisa answered, “Aye, we did indeed. Yer neighbor told us what it said. But it has been a site more than a couple of days.”

  Sorcha nodded in agreement.

  “Aye, that is true.” He walked away, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he began filling the shelves with the supplies he had purchased.

  Sorcha stood and stomped her foot. “Samuel Cameron, ye have taken years off my life from worryin’ about yer sorry hide and ye are going to tell me this instant what took ye so long.”

  Louisa’s jaw dropped Samuel could barely contain his mirth. She had likely never heard Sorcha speak to someone in this manner, especially a man of God.

  “Sorcha,” she said, in a reprimanding tone.

  Samuel held up his hand before she could go any further. “It is all right Louisa. She thinks I am one of the horses.” He smiled to show he wasn’t truly upset with Sorcha’s outburst.

  “Horses?”

  “Oh, Ma, pay no attention to him.”

  “Is that so?” he said, quirking his eyebrow.
<
br />   “Well, I mean, oh never mind.” Sorcha grew flustered, and he enjoyed every minute of it.

  She squirmed in her seat, her hands flitted in front of her as if swatting flies. She added, “But surely Samuel ye have an explanation for yer tardiness. We have been mighty worried Lorcan might have caused trouble for ye.”

  “Why would Lorcan cause trouble for me? And since we are askin’ and answerin’ questions, why are ye here waitin’ on my return?”

  “Ma left Lorcan.”

  “Left him?”

  “Now Sorcha, ye can’t do a conversation like that. Ye got to give a body details.” After a deep sighing breath, Louisa explained everything that had transpired since his departure.

  Samuel fell into a chair and rested his weary head in his hands. Originally he hadn’t seen God’s plan in sending his brother, Grant, a letter, but now he did. He was going to need physical protection. He hoped his brother brought a whole army of Cameron warriors with him as soon as he received the missive, otherwise there would be no more need for worrying.

  Chapter Seven

  Once Dorcas was safely deposited within the Sinclair keep and Grant started again on his journey, getting to the Scottish shore was a low stress adventure. At night he would walk off the road, roll out his plaid, and sleep under the stars.

  He passed nary a soul. His thoughts were all he had to keep him company. He thought on all the words Duncan had said to him. Especially his parting words about why a woman would remain pure without the words of the Lord. Grant wasn’t sure of the answer, but there had to be other reasons a woman would wish to remain chaste. These thoughts continued to plague him as he traveled and arrived at the coastal town of Ayr.

  The town was packed wall to wall with marketers and farmers. Men, women, and children crowded the streets until one could scarcely breathe. Grant grabbed one of the commoners. “What is going on here? Why are so many people milling about?”

  “Haven’t ye heard? Why ye must have had yer head buried in a rain barrel to not know what—“

  Grant cut him off. “I don’t want to hear yer explanations of why I should know the occurrences here. It is obvious I don’t know or I wouldn’t have asked ye. Now what is happenin’?”

  The old man shook him off and walked away, nodding his head while carrying on a conversation with himself. “The ignorance of these laddies today.”

  Before Grant could reach for another passerby, an old woman limped up to him. “Truly, do ye not know what is to happen today?”

  “Nay, my lady, I do not.”

  “Well lad, they are burnin’ a heretic.”

  “Heretic?”

  “Aye. The town folk believe the plague of Forty — five was all because the Protestants have been reading the words from the Book in man’s common tongue. And they are goin’ to burn every one they can find for it.”

  “Burn them?”

  “Lad, am I stutterin’? Burn them, I say.”

  “Why is there such a large crowd?”

  The old lady scratched her head while she pondered the question. “Best I can figure, the townspeople thought this would bring a crowd, so they added it to the market day events. Guess they hope to increase they profit.”

  Grant was sickened by the thought of people who choose to capitalize off of death. Before his informant left, he asked, “Do ye know where I might find a ship going to Dublin?”

  The woman grunted. “If ye think this crowd is large wait till ye get to Dublin. I hear tell they have a burnin’ at least twice a week!”

  Grant sighed. Did these people not know how to answer a simple question? “A boat? Do ye know of a boat headed to Dublin?”

  She rubbed her chin. “Well I don’t know one in particular but if ye go to the tavern down at the dock, ye are sure to find someone willing to ferry ye—for a price,” she added with emphasis.

  He nodded. “Much obliged.” He left her. As he walked away she struggled to get closer to the pyre that was set to burn.

  Increasing his pace, he headed toward the location of the docks. If there was burnings in Ayr and burnings in Dublin, could there be burnings where Samuel was as well? There was still a long way to travel. Worry and a feeling of desperation gnawed at him. He prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

  Chapter Eight

  Samuel, Louisa, and Sorcha quickly developed a daily routine. Louisa would rise early and fix breakfast. The three of them would sit at the table in the and eat together. Then Sorcha would clean up while Louisa and Samuel headed out to work in the garden.

  Sorcha glanced out the window, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Just a few weeks ago, the whole village had come to work in that very garden. Everyone had been so happy to have the new minister. They wanted to help in every way possible, hoping to encourage him to remain. With one unconfirmed and unfounded rumor, that was all gone.

  Tears were swiped away in an angry motion. Those people just didn’t know what they were missing. Even though they hadn’t come to Samuel’s worship services, he continued to preach. Louisa and she had listened attentively, storing up the words of the Lord for when they would need them the most.

  As Sorcha watched and listened to Samuel during these times, her affection for him grew. He seemed genuinely fond of her as well. He treated her like a princess. He opened doors, pulled out chairs, stood until she was seated, and never ate until she had taken her first bite of food.

  Her mother accused her of being smitten, and perhaps she was. But her feelings for Samuel mattered little. She had other responsibilities. Soon, she would be a mother to her first child. Uncertainty beset her. She was convinced Samuel could never love one as defamed as her.

  Just as she put away the last dish, Samuel stepped through the door. He looked like a normal man. His clergy robe had been replaced by his trews and tunic. Currently, his tunic was removed from his trews and being used to mop his perspiring brow. Sorcha couldn’t help but stare at his lithe physique. He wasn’t muscle bound, like some of the other village men she had seen working outside, but his tall lanky frame was firm without an inch of fat.

  Removing the tunic from his face, he caught Sorcha staring. Quickly he jerked his tunic over his head and into place. His face turned a ruddy color.

  “Are ye embarrassed Samuel?” she asked, unable to hide her smile.

  Sorcha thought for a moment he would blow and swagger and pretend that beautiful women saw him unclothed all the time, but instead he surprised her by saying, “Aye lass, I am embarrassed.”

  “Ah, Samuel canna ye forgive me? I was much too brazen in my perusal of yer perfect form.”

  “Perfect form?” He repeated under his breath. “Nay, lass I wasn’t blamin’ ye. I was trying to say I wasn’t expecting to be seen. I thought perhaps ye had already gone for ye nap.”

  “Nay, not yet.”

  “I can see that.”

  Both of them hedged, neither one seemed to know what to do or to say.

  Samuel, who seemed reserved, must have been emboldened by her earlier speech. He repeated in a teasing tone, “Perfect form, uh?”

  Now it was Sorcha’s turn to blush. Had she truly said that aloud? Her mother always said Sorcha’s tongue was her own worst enemy.

  Before she had a chance to mumble out a reply Samuel slinked toward her. She took two steps and her back brushed the wall. Her eyes grew wide.

  Samuel looked as if he meant to kiss her. Fear grew in her stomach. She wanted to turn her head, close her eyes, anything to block out his advance.

  Without warning he backed away and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry,” fell from his lips as he fled the room.

  Sorcha’s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor weeping. She had known Samuel wouldn’t hurt her, but when he had backed her into the wall, she could almost feel splinters poke into her backside. The smell of Festus’ hot putrid breath as he exhaled onto her neck came back to her.

  She stood to her shaky feet and walked to the well in the backyard. She drew a bucket full of coo
l water. Cupping her hands, she gathered the water and splashed it on her face. Images of Samuel’s visage flashed before her. She must go to him and explain.

  As she turned to head back in, she saw him in the window. He was watching her, concern etching his face. She picked up her skirts and ran inside heading straight to his room.

  The door was open, and she entered without permission. Samuel turned to face her. Sorcha stepped toward him gingerly. Once she reached him, she placed a hand on both sides of his face. She gently pulled his mouth down upon her own and gave him a slow lingering kiss. When she pulled back he didn’t move.

  Her brow furrowed. “Was that not good enough for ye? I know I haven’t had a lot of practice, but surely it wasn’t completely distasteful.”

  Samuel just stood and watched her as she moved her head and arms with speech. Passion burned inside her with each passing word. He wasn’t trying to explain or answer her question at all. Instead he framed her face with his hands and lifted her lips back to his own. As her arms snaked around his neck, his hands remained in place. After a few moments, he pulled back, laid his chin against the top of her head, and let out a sigh that sounded like contentment.

  “So, was it good enough?” asked Sorcha, still unsatisfied.

  Samuel chuckled. “Aye, it was good enough.”

  Chapter Nine

  Grant was stuck in Ayr for more days than he cared to remember. He had easily found the tavern the old lady had spoken of. There were plenty of sea captains of worthy vessels prepared to take him to Dublin, yet he couldn’t find one willing to do so right away. All of them flat out refused to leave Ayr until they saw the heretic burn.

  The city still teemed with people. The stench of so many unwashed bodies in one place was overwhelming to one’s senses. Grant considered finding a room in which to board, hoping to acquire a bath, but every room located in the city was taken. Just to find a place to lay his head, he would have to hike back out to the edge of town and sleep under the stars.