The Seeker

by Ann H. Gabhart

  Not that Adam was ready to propose or anything. The word even surfacing in his mind was enough to bring him up short on the street outside the hotel. His sudden stop caused the man walking behind him to bump him a little before he veered to the side to pass him with some angry words. Adam muttered an apology without really hearing what the man said.

  What was the matter with him? Charlotte Vance was a mere diversion. That was all. So what if her lips had been sweet? So what if he couldn’t stop drawing her face and seeing her in his dreams? That didn’t mean anything. Nothing except the artist in him admired a perfectly aligned face.

  It was the war. That was what had made him consider the unthinkable. A man faced with the prospect of being in front of a bullet with his name on it wanted to leave something behind. Wanted to know someone would grieve his passing. Wanted to leave his seed so that a child might carry his spirit forward. The sound of war drums gave Cupid a whole quiver full of arrows. That’s all it was.

  He’d have to rein in his emotions and not get carried away. He hadn’t ever seriously considered proposing to Charlotte Vance or any other girl, no matter how entrancing. Of course it wasn’t just beautiful women who posed a danger when the sabers were rattling. Many men and boys jumped into the recruiting lines to prove their courage.

  Adam touched the pocket of his coat where he’d stuck Phoebe’s telegram. Her words were to the point. Jake dropped out of school. Joining the Potomac Army. Too young. Do something.

  So before he could head to Kentucky to draw Sam’s staircase, he’d have to search through the Potomac Army to send Jake home. The boy had always been ready to fight at the slightest provocation. No sense of self-preservation at all. Phoebe was right about this one. Adam did need to do something. And Sam would take the army scenes and sell more newspapers with them than with any staircase.

  But first Adam wanted to go back to his room and sketch that picture of Charlotte on her veranda from memory. The same as he’d done the first time. He assured himself it wasn’t because he wanted to keep the picture of Charlotte necessarily. It was the idea of yearning for peace. That was what he wanted to keep.

  14

  Once Charlotte had put on the Shaker costume, the pretense was easy. It was as if, along with the new clothes, she donned a new identity. The other Charlotte, the real Charlotte, was hovering somewhere in the shadows of her mind waiting for the right moment to step back into her life, while this new Charlotte—Sister Charlotte—was following after Sister Gemma meekly, learning to say yea and nay, to bend her head and watch the path in front of her instead of the sky. At least some of the time.

  The new Charlotte was acting a role in a play. One that she had set in motion herself, for she had come voluntarily to this place. But once at Harmony Hill, the next act wasn’t as easy as she’d imagined. No matter how she searched the pathways, furtively peering up from under her cap at each Shaker brother who came near, she saw no sign of Edwin. He was there. She was sure of that, but she could hardly search through the men’s quarters for him. Not with Sister Gemma or Sister Altha constantly by her side to teach her the Shaker way. So as the week passed, the ending began to stretch far in the distance. At the same time, she saw no way to step out of the role and go back to Grayson. For her or for Mellie.

  She missed Mellie. Not because of the way she’d helped her dress back at Grayson. It was a welcome novelty not having to be concerned about what she wore or how she looked. She certainly didn’t miss the constricting stays squeezing her waist fashionably small for the party dresses or the hoops that had to be scooted sideways through doors. But she did miss Mellie plaiting her hair at night. Not because she couldn’t weave the plaits herself, but because that was when she and Mellie had talked and laughed.

  While the Shakers spoke of being loving sisters, idle chatter among these sisters was frowned upon. Silence allowed one to concentrate on one’s duties. A loose tongue was reason for confession, Sister Altha instructed before she pinned her sharp eyes on Charlotte as if waiting for her to voice that confession. Not because she gossiped but because she couldn’t keep from questioning the why behind the Shakers’ many rules. So Charlotte did ask forgiveness for her curiosity, then could not keep from following it up with another question. “But shouldn’t a person try to make sense of rules?”

  “Understanding is not necessary. Obedience is necessary. That is what the Eternal Father asks of us. Obedience.” And then she had looked at Charlotte as though she should make another plea for forgiveness.

  Perhaps that was why Sister Altha saw to it that Charlotte and Mellie were separated. To make obedience to the rules come easier for both of them. When Charlotte had asked about Mellie, Sister Altha frowned and said, “Worldly relationships are the cause of much stress and loss of peace. Especially that of husband and wife or slave and master. The Scripture clearly states, ‘Be not ye servants of men.’ For Sister Melana’s spiritual growth and for yours, it is best if you break loose from the sinful ties of the world.”

  Charlotte bit back the arguments that sprang to her mouth. While she was playing this role, she had little choice but to do as Sister Altha said. Her pretense of obedience didn’t keep Charlotte from looking for Mellie among the Shakers with the same diligence as she searched for Edwin. Relief swooshed through her when she finally spotted Mellie on a pathway between the buildings on the third day and saw that she no longer looked frightened. Instead Mellie raised her eyebrows high and shrugged her shoulders the barest bit before flashing a smile as if this whole thing with the Shakers was some kind of farce they had planned together as an escapade of sorts. Then without the chance to exchange a forbidden word on the silent walkways, she had rushed off to keep up with her Shaker guide, Sister Cora.

  When Charlotte had taken a step after her, Gemma placed a restraining hand softly on Charlotte’s arm. “Come, my sister. Our work duties lie in another direction.”

  “But I only wanted to speak with Mellie for a moment.”

  “Sister Melana,” Gemma corrected.

  “Sister Melana then,” Charlotte said looking after Mellie. “I just want to ask her if she’s all right.”

  “She appears in good health,” Gemma murmured before she turned and began walking again the opposite direction toward the workshop where they were filling the seed packets. Charlotte had no choice but to follow her. She had no idea what they had Mellie doing.

  So it was with some surprise she found herself actually seated beside Mellie in the meetinghouse on Sunday morning.

  A bell had summoned them to meeting. Bells were always ringing in the village, summoning the Shakers to do something— get up, go to work, take meals in total silence in what to Charlotte’s amusement the Shakers called the biting room, go to bed. It seemed every moment of the day was regimented by the ringing of bells.

  Charlotte hadn’t known what to expect when the bells sounded to call them to meeting. They had returned to their sleeping rooms after the morning meal for a time of meditation that Gemma said would properly prepare their spirits for meeting. Charlotte had been on her knees more in the few days she’d been with the Shakers than her whole life. A Shaker knelt in silent prayer upon rising. A Shaker knelt in silent prayer before and after every meal. A Shaker knelt in silent prayer before lying down at night on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

  Each time Charlotte knelt, bowed her head as instructed, and listened to the silence. She could almost feel the devout prayers rising from the sisters around her as her own thoughts jumped hither and yon from prayer words she’d learned as a child to the sweet memory of Adam Wade pulling her close against him for a kiss before he raced out of her life.

  With effort, she would push thoughts of Adam aside and dwell only on the plans she’d made that were the reason she was kneeling among the Shaker sisters. She’d find Edwin and convince him of the error of his ways. With proper remorse, he’d come away from the Shakers with her. Or her father would see the terrible mistake he had made marrying Selena and beg Char
lotte to return to Grayson so everything could go back to the way it used to be. Then she would remember Fort Sumter and despair would darken her thoughts. Nothing was happening as it should. And she didn’t know what to do except to keep walking this strange path she had chosen until a better way presented itself.

  With the bell still tolling, Gemma led Charlotte out into the hallway to line up with the other sisters for the march down the stairs, out the door, and to the meetinghouse. The brethren were making a parallel line down their own set of stairs. Outside one voice began and then others joined in singing what Gemma said was a gathering song as they walked. The unity of spirit was palpable as the streams of Shaker men and women converged on the meetinghouse from all directions.

  Each person fell silent as they entered the white frame building, while outside the voices continued, growing less clear as more of the Shakers came inside. The sisters and brothers silently found their seats on backless wooden benches arranged in two sections facing one another, the men on the east side, the women on the west. Charlotte was ushered over to sit beside Mellie on the end of the front sisters’ bench so Eldress Sadie, who seemed to be filling the role of preacher for the morning, could introduce them to the assembly. Charlotte couldn’t imagine what a stir a female preacher would cause in the church she normally sat in on a Sunday morning.

  Sister Altha had spent much time in the days Charlotte had been at Harmony Hill in trying to open Charlotte’s mind to the truth of the Believers. “The Eternal Father created both man and woman in his own image, and how can that be if there is no feminine form of God?” She hadn’t expected Charlotte to answer, only to listen. “I assure you such cannot be. That is why it was necessary for Mother Ann to come into the world. Doesn’t the Scripture speak of a bride coming? Not in the physical sense of the world, but in a spiritual sense. The Eternal Father revealed that truth to Mother Ann, and because she accepted the truth of his calling for her to be the Second Coming, she was persecuted and maltreated. There is much evil in the world. So those who sought and embraced the truth withdrew from that world to establish our islands of peace and harmony onto which we invite all to come and share in the true way.”

  Sometimes after a couple of hours of Sister Altha’s words beating down on her, Charlotte had no idea what she actually believed. She had always attended church faithfully when her father was at Grayson and occasionally when he was not if the weather was favorable for a carriage ride. And Aunt Tish had preached Jesus to her ever since she was big enough to remember Bible words.

  She knew what Aunt Tish believed. Now she heard the belief in Sister Altha’s voice, even though much of what she said seemed contrary to words Charlotte had heard preached from the pulpit in the town church. But when she peered down into her own spiritual heart, she knew not what was there. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps that was why her prayers only circled around her own head and never rose to heaven.

  She could speak the words, Our Father who art in heaven, but as Aunt Tish had often told her, it wasn’t the words that mattered. It was the feeling behind the words. “You got to lean on Jesus, chile. Once you does that, everything comes clear.”

  But Charlotte saw no need to lean on anybody. It was up to her to make things happen the way she wanted them to. Didn’t everybody say the Lord helped those who helped themselves? So what if those words weren’t actually written in the Scripture. They were still true. Even the Shakers seemed to believe so, or else why would they go about their assigned duties with such diligent industry? Charlotte had heard as much about the work of the village as the spiritual beliefs in the days she’d been there.

  Sister Altha spoke one line so often that it echoed in Charlotte’s head like a tune caught there sounding over and over. Put your hands to work and give your heart to God. The older woman told her with great assurance that if she managed to do that, all else at the village would be easy.

  “All can believe who so will,” Sister Altha said before she shook her head a bit and fastened her eyes on Charlotte. “It is a sorrow that not all wish to pick up the cross and carry it. In many there is a lacking of proper spirit.”

  It was obvious she judged Charlotte to be one of the unwilling ones in spite of Charlotte’s best efforts to do all she was told. Under Gemma’s kinder guidance, Charlotte had carefully counted the bean seeds and sealed them into the packets. She had hung the chairs on the blue pegs and swept the bare wide-planked floors. She had pretended to bend her spirit while continually watching for some sight of Edwin.

  She hadn’t seen him until the Sunday morning meeting. Then he looked so different lined up with the other brethren, dressed in his gray trousers and round-collared cotton shirt with his hair combed in bangs across his forehead that she almost didn’t recognize him.

  But it was more than the clothes. Something else was different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on until she realized he was sitting without a slouch even though he was a head taller than the two men on either side of him. She had never seen him sit so tall. His posture didn’t change when Eldress Sadie spoke Charlotte’s name. If anything, he appeared to square his shoulders even more, almost as if with pride as he looked directly at Charlotte with something akin to joy on his face. It wasn’t a look that gave Charlotte any hope he was regretting his decision to come to the Shakers. Rather it was a look celebrating her joining him there. As a sister.

  Charlotte and Mellie returned to their places on the bench as Eldress Sadie continued to talk. She was a little woman, barely taller than a half-grown child, but she seemed to radiate energy as she moved about in front of the Shaker believers perched on the hard benches.

  There were no adornments in the building that might suggest this was a house of worship. Instead, ringing the walls were hats and cloaks hung on the same sort of blue pegs as in every other Shaker building. There was no pulpit for a preacher to place his Bible or pound out a warning of damnation, no offering plates, not even a table for the Holy Communion cups and unleavened bread. To Charlotte, the large open room more resembled a barn than a house of worship.

  That didn’t seem to matter to those gathered in the building as they listened to Eldress Sadie’s words with rapt attention and hushed reverence, even though she was speaking more of the business concerns of the village than of any spiritual matters. With each of her words, a feeling of anticipation trembled a bit more vibrantly in the air. Charlotte studied the faces around her and decided it wasn’t what the woman was saying but rather what her words were leading up to that was exciting the congregation. They wanted to dance.

  At last Eldress Sadie spoke the words the assembled Shakers had obviously been waiting to hear. “Let us go forth and labor a song to bring down the joy of the spirit upon us.”

  The men and women stood in unison and began carrying the benches to the ends of the room in an orderly fashion. Charlotte and Mellie moved awkwardly out of the way. Sister Altha appeared in front of them to lead them to the benches where a few older Shakers were sitting.

  “In a few weeks, you might be practiced enough to take part in laboring the songs, but for now it will be well for you to watch and open your minds and hearts to the words of the songs.” She let her eyes settle on Charlotte’s face. “I asked the singers to do this first song for your ears, Sister Charlotte. It’s an old hymn of humility.”

  Charlotte bent her head and studied her hands in her lap. Silence was often the easiest answer. Beside her, Mellie’s surprise at her submissive posture was almost tangible. Charlotte waited until Sister Altha turned away and the singers began their song before she peeked over at Mellie with a sideways grin. Mellie covered her mouth quickly to hide her answering smile.

  One of the sisters had stepped forward to begin the song.

  I want to feel little.

  I want to feel small.

  The last of my Brethren,

  The least of them all.

  Other voices joined her clear voice.

  That I may inherit that pure gospel sp
irit.

  The spirit of Christ and of Mother.

  Charlotte scooted closer to Mellie. She glanced behind her, but none of the older Shakers were paying any attention to them. All eyes were on the singers, and then others began to move out into the middle of the floor to form lines to begin the dance. She didn’t look at Mellie as she said, “I don’t think Sister Altha believes I can humble my spirit.”

  “You appears to be humbler than I ever thought to see you.” Mellie’s voice was not much above a whisper, but there was little chance anyone would hear them now, with the dancers shuffling back and forth across the wooden floor while the singers continued. There was no music except the sound of the voices in unison.

  I want to feel humble

  And simple in mind.

  More watchful. More careful.

  More fully resigned.

  That I may inherit that pure gospel spirit.

  The spirit of Christ and of Mother.

  “I’m trying, Mellie,” Charlotte said.

  “It ain’t so bad, Miss Lottie. You just do whatever they tells you. Instead of Mammy or you doin’ the tellin’, it’s Sister Cora.” Mellie frowned a little as she studied Charlotte’s face. “Course I guess as how it’s harder for you. You ain’t never had nobody tellin’ you what to do all that much. You sorry you came?”

  “Things aren’t happening the way I planned,” Charlotte admitted.

  “You had a chance to talk to Mr. Edwin?”

  “No, I was never alone to look for him,” Charlotte said. “Only laid eyes on him just now.”

  “He don’t look the same in them Shaker clothes. That’s for sure.” Mellie looked toward the men dancing in front of them. Edwin moved past them in step with the other Shaker brothers. He didn’t look their way but kept his eyes on the floor as if searching for something. Mellie’s voice held a touch of wonder. “Can you believe that? Mr. Edwin never even liked to dance, did he?”