Hester flopped down and squirmed beneath the covers. A second later, she whispered loudly, “Mama? Will you make a girl baby? I want a sister.”
“The Almighty will decide what to give us.” From the way the blanket moved, Sam knew she’d pulled Hester closer and kept an arm around her. “Know this, Hester. You are very dear to me. When the baby comes, God will add love in my heart so there’s plenty for everyone.”
“Add?” Glee bubbled out of his daughter. “Like when Schoolmaster Smith does the plus instead of the take-away sign!”
“So put your mind to rest.” Garnet’s head came off the pillow so she could look up at the jump bed. “Our Lord let us keep Ethan so we can all be together. No one can pull us asunder.”
“Like when you married Father,” Ethan said sleepily. “What God hath joined together, let no man pull asunder.”
“But Aunt Dorcas is a woman.”
“She’s married, Hester,” Christopher reasoned. “In God’s eyes, a man and a woman are one. They become a team—like two horses pulling a wagon instead of just one.”
“When I married your father, I knew he had three fine children in his wagon.” Garnet spoke very softly. “When we wed, you became mine.”
“I’m glad.” Hester snuggled into the pillow.
“Me, too,” Sam said. He waited for Garnet to react, but she didn’t.
eighteen
The door opened, and Garnet looked up. Christopher stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. “The cow’s gone dry.”
She forced a smile. “I’ve been expecting that to happen.”
He held up a basket. “I gathered the eggs.”
“Thank you. Breakfast is ready.” Garnet didn’t ask about his father. Sam hadn’t gone to bed at all last night. He’d sat before the fireplace, brooding for the longest while; then he took his cloak and went outside. He’d not come back. She didn’t know where he was.
“Since we’re having stirabout,” Ethan asked between bites, “what are you going to do with the eggs?”
“Do you think, perchance, you could fetch me a pumpkin from the barn ere you leave for school?”
“I’m done eating. I’ll get it now!” Ethan raced out the door. A few minutes later, he returned with a good-sized pumpkin. “Father is busy. He doesn’t want you out in the barn.”
Garnet pretended that news didn’t wound her. Instead, she thanked Ethan for the pumpkin. A few minutes later, she stood in the doorway and waved as the children set off for school. Once they were out of sight, she shut the door and drew in a deep breath to steady herself.
It took no time at all to clean up from breakfast, and she set to making the pumpkin custard Samuel liked so much. It would take the last of the cream she’d stored in the springhouse. She slipped the two-toned blue cape around her shoulders and fetched the cream.
On the way back to the house, Garnet made a point of not looking at the barn. Lord, I’ve been too busy looking upon my husband instead of keeping my eyes on You. I let discontentment come into my heart when I should have been praising You for all You’ve given me. Starting right now, I’m going to rely upon Your promise in the Bible that if I seek You first, all of the other things will be added unto me.
She went back into the keeping room. As she poured the custard into the pumpkin shell, Garnet inhaled deeply. The fragrance of the mixture was pleasing.
I’m like the eggs. I was broken and was beaten, but God added sweetness to my life and set me in a new place. The heat—it’s like a refiner’s fire. I have to trust Him that all will turn out well in the end.
As she stirred up the fire, the door opened. “Mama?”
“Chris!”
“I’ve sent Ethan and Hester on with the Morton children. I came back because a few things need to be said. First, I’m glad you’re our mother now. Father speaks well of others and won’t speak ill of anyone. He speaks not at all of my mother. My memories of her are of her being quarrelsome, so I’ve followed Father’s example and not said anything, either.”
“I’m sorry, Christopher.”
“That was in the past, and nothing can alter it.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m not going to school this morning because I’m going to go to Uncle Erasmus, man-to-man.”
“No,” Samuel pushed the door wide open, “you’re not.”
❧
Sam clapped a hand onto Chris’s shoulder. “I’ll put things in order. You belong at school.”
Christopher looked at Garnet. “I meant what I said—I’m glad you’re our mother.” He left and shut the door.
As soon as the latch slid closed, Garnet turned back to the fire and lifted a cauldron.
“That’s too heavy for you.” Sam strode over and took it from her. He spied the pumpkin inside and gave her a long look.
“I used the cream I had left in the springhouse. It’ll be the last pumpkin custard.”
Sam lifted the cauldron onto the hook over the fire. “We’ll all enjoy it, just as we appreciate all you do.” He took Garnet’s elbow and led her over to the table. “Sit. I need to speak with you.”
She sank down onto a bench, but Sam felt too restless to join her. Instead, he paced toward the jump bed, turned, and approached her once again. “I spent the night in deep thought and prayer. I must speak some harsh truths.”
Her face grew grim.
“I wed you because Erasmus forced me to in order to keep my children—or so I thought. But I gave him credit when ’twas not his. God brought you here before Erasmus Ryder thought up his schemes. The Lord merely allowed those schemes to unfold because He can redeem good from wickedness.
“I’ve spent years now rearing my sons. Protecting them—I do it naturally. Last night, you said when you’d wed me that my children became yours. ’Twas a bittersweet truth I pondered o’er most of the night. Sweet, because memory after memory came to mind of how you’ve shown your love for them—the praise you gave Christopher for driving the wagon so smoothly, the glee on Ethan’s face when you call him over to lick a spoon, and the way you hold Hester’s hand in yours as you walk.”
“I love your children.”
“I know. The bitter part of this is hard for me to confess.”
Garnet sat a little straighter. Her hands—the way they moved to try to cover her belly—wrenched his heart. Sam straddled the bench and put his hands atop hers, and she gave him a startled look.
“I’d be lying to say I was happy to learn you were with child. It came as a shock to you, too. You’ve not said a word about this babe, and I tried to respect your silence by giving you time to accustom yourself to its arrival. Last night is the first time you’ve acknowledged you’re carrying a life. You said God would add love. When the times comes, I have faith that He will fill you with love for this little one.”
“He already has.” Beneath his palms, he felt how she gently stroked her thumbs back and forth over the child she carried. “I’m blessed to have him.”
Sam sat for a while and let that sweet truth fill the silence. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked at her earnestly. “In truth, I’ve worried I could not love this babe. ’Tisn’t flesh of my flesh.” The wounded look in her eyes tore at him. He hastened on. “But then I realized Naomi never gave her heart to our children; you have. ’Twasn’t the blood tie that mattered. Then, too, there was Joseph. Joseph didn’t sire Jesus, yet the Lord put His Son into Joseph’s caring. God put your babe into my care.”
“You promised to provide—”
“And a beggar’s promise that was. It ate at me all night long.” He reached between his shirt and doublet and pulled out what he’d worked on. “This is from the spinning wheel. The wood split badly, but I glued it back together. ’Tis smooth and probably stronger now than the other spokes.”
Garnet looked confused.
Sam turned the piece so she could see what he’d done. “Look here. I carved a heart on it. I’ve not used words that will be lost in time. I carved this here, and it is past time I
spoke to you of my love. Since you came, I’ve been so relieved that Hester is home and life has gone well, I didn’t stop to recognize the truth. You filled my home with happiness. Not only that, Garnet—somehow, you filled my heart with love.”
Sam placed the spoke in her hands and curled his fingers around hers. “We were both broken souls when God glued us together. Together, we are whole. God willing, we will have as many children together as there are spokes on your spinning wheel—but this is to remind you always that my heart is yours, and I will cherish this first child you carry.”
Tears filled her eyes, making them glisten like just-polished silver. “Samuel, I bless the day you bought me. That day, you spared my life and gave me hope. Today, you’ve given me your heart, but I give mine in return. I love you, and my only regret is that there are only twelve spokes on that spinning wheel!”
epilogue
“Here’s your book, Mama.”
“Thank you, Hester. I know I saw a recipe in here for pigeons.” Garnet flipped through The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy. It was the first book Samuel bought for her when he was teaching her to read better, and she treasured it.
“I can scarce believe Ethan netted this many pigeons. Hasn’t he read Poor Richard Improved where Benjamin Franklin says, ‘Kill no more pigeons than you can eat’?” Hester put the last handful of feathers into a bucket and laid a cloth across the top of it so they wouldn’t blow away.
“Here we are, ‘Piceons in a Hole’.” Garnet struggled to rise, and Hester pulled on her arm to help. “Thank you. Let’s get these made.”
Hester led her into the keeping room.
“ ‘Take your Pigeons, season them with beaten Mace, Pepper and Salt; put a little Piece of Butter in the Belly,’ ” Garnet read aloud. “ ‘Lay them in a Dish and pour a light Batter all over them, make with a Quart of Mik and Eggs, and four or five Sploonfuls of Flour; bake it, and sent it to Table. It is a good Dish.’ It does sound tasty, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but Father’s going to be so eager to have the pumpkin custard that he probably won’t notice anything you put on the table before it.” Hester lifted five-year-old Prudence onto the small chest. “You did a nice job washing your hands, so you may help us cook.”
Eight-year-old Molly set aside her sampler. “Mama, I finished stitching the alphabet. Do I get to help cook, too?”
“First have a care that you put the needle back in the case. Christopher was sore mad when he stepped on the last one you lost.”
“I already did.” Molly looked at the pigeons. “It’s good Ethan netted so many. Those look dreadfully small. Is it greedy if I eat one all by myself?”
“You and Prudence will share one.” Garnet smiled at Hester. “I expect we’ll have a few guests by supper time.”
“Oh, merry!” Prudence clapped her hands. “It’s been forever since you and Goodwife Morton and Goodman Brooks played music for us all!”
“Prudy,” Molly gave her little sister an exasperated look. “That’s not what Mama meant.”
Prudence’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “I like Goodwife Morton. Why can’t she come?”
Hester let out a trill of laughter. “She’ll be here, but she’s coming to help Mama.”
“Mama, we’ll help you.” Prudence copied Molly and put a nubbin of butter inside a pigeon. “Father told us to be sure to help you lots.”
“And you—” Garnet went silent as the next contraction hit.
Prudence turned to her. “Did you forget what you planned to say again?”
“She’s probably thinking about how we need more butter. This is the last of what we have.”
Garnet let out a shaky breath. “Yes, well, I suppose I’ll take care of making more butter.” She sat in the rocking chair Sam and Christopher had made for her right after she’d had Molly. “Ethan put the cream in the churn just awhile ago.”
Having read how Benjamin Franklin devised an attach-ment that went from his wife’s rocking chair to the butter churn, Samuel delighted in finding the diagram and making one for Garnet.
As she set her chair in motion and thereby started churning butter, Garnet smiled at her daughters. “Molly and Prudence, while Hester puts the pigeons in to bake, the two of you go on out to the garden and fill a bucket with peas, then sit in the shade and shell them.”
“I like buttered peas,” Molly said.
Ethan leaned against the doorjamb. “So do I. Mama knows it’s my favorite song.”
“Silly!” Prudence giggled. “We’re talking ’bout supper.”
Still wearing a rakish smile, Ethan looked at her. “I remember the last time you made pigeons. They tasted—”
Garnet held her breath and rocked a little faster as the next pain washed over her.
Ethan’s grin fled as he bolted straight up. “Does Father know?”
“No.” Garnet barely managed to squeeze out that word before the pain crested.
“ ’Course Father doesn’t know we’re having buttered peas.” Prudence scratched her little nose. “Mama just decided.”
Hester set the pigeons to bake, then decided. “You girls can go to Aunt Dorcas’s house to pick the peas.”
“Let’s hurry! Christopher gives us piggyback rides!”
Ethan grabbed two-year-old Jane. “I’ll take them over and fetch Biddie Laswell.” He lifted Prudence. “Molly, I’m racing you. I have longer legs, but my arms are full.”
Hester shook her head as they left. “Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed I’d be glad to send children to Aunt Dorcas’s.”
“No one is beyond the love of God.” Garnet smiled. “Your father was wise enough not to revile the Ryders when they wronged him.” Erasmus hadn’t changed his heart until he lay on his deathbed, but Dorcas had committed her heart to the Lord and her hands to doing good deeds. She couldn’t manage the farm, so when Christopher married Mary Morton, Dorcas had invited them to her place. Instead of tobacco, wheat and corn now filled the fields.
“Garnet,” Sam called from the yard.
“Yes?”
He dashed through the door and took a good, long look at her. “Hester, go fetch the midwife!”
“Ethan already said he’d bring back Biddie Laswell.”
Sam didn’t look reassured in the least. He cleared his throat. “Jane came so fast that Biddie didn’t arrive in time. Go fetch Ruth Morton. Stay there and watch her little ones.”
“Yes, Father.”
He shook his finger at Garnet. “I should have figured out why you sent Andrew and Titus over to the Mortons’ today.”
“Samuel, you’re the one who said they could go with Falcon and Thomas to pick out a sturgeon.” Garnet bit her lip and rocked faster. When the contraction ended, she muttered, “I’m not going to be able to help salt down the behemoth when they return.”
“I can do that, Mama.”
Samuel started washing his hands. “Hester, enough talk. Make haste and fetch Ruth.” He dried his big, capable hands and came toward her. “Let’s put you to bed.”
Garnet shook her head.
“What are you looking at?”
She let out a shaky breath. “The spinning wheel. A child for each spoke, remember?”
“Yes, but—”
“Chris, Ethan, Hester, Andrew. . . Remember how dis-appointed Hester was that she didn’t get a sister when I had Andrew, then Titus?” Her voice died out as the next pain washed over her.
Sam let out a strained chuckle. “You made up for that with Molly, Prudence, and Jane.”
Garnet reached over and held fast to his hand. “Bartholomew and Anne.” They’d lost those two in their infancy.
“We loved them for the time the Lord granted them to us.” Sam cupped her cheek. “God has blessed us again with this little one. Think on that.”
Her hold on his hand tightened. As the pain subsided, Garnet rasped, “A child for each spoke. There’s not one little one this time, Sam. Biddie told me ’tis twins.”
“Twins!” His flummoxed expression wore off; then he rasped, “And you waited until now to tell me?”
“You hover and fret each time my days are accomplished and I’m to have a babe. Had we told you, you’d have been impossible.”
“We’ve not prepared for two babes!”
“I have.” She scooted to the edge of the rocking chair. “The butter will have to wait.”
“This is no time to discuss churning butter! We need a second cradle.” While he fretted, he helped her rise.
Garnet leaned into his warmth and strength. “They’ve shared a womb, Sam. They’ll share the cradle just as happily.” Another pain started, but the sensation shifted dramatically.
Sam swept her into his arms and laid her on their bed. “Ruth—”
“Won’t be here in time.” She gasped and grabbed for him. “These babes are coming faster than I thought!”
Fifteen minutes later, Sam wrapped their second baby in a blanket and sank onto the edge of the bed. “Healthy sons. Both of them. God be praised.”
“Indeed, He’s blessed us.” Garnet accepted her other baby from him. “Two more things, though.”
“What?”
“Take the pigeons out of the fire in about five minutes.”
“I can do that. What else?”
“Either you explain to Hester why we now have more boys than girls, or you’d better figure out how to add another spoke to the spinning wheel!”
About the Author
CATHY MARIE HAKE is a Southern California native who loves her work as a nurse and Lamaze teacher. She and her husband have a daughter, a son, and three dogs, so life is never dull or quiet. Cathy considers herself a sentimental pack rat, collecting antiques and Hummel figurines. In spare moments, she reads, bargain hunts, and makes a huge mess with her new hobby of scrapbooking. [email protected]
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Cathy Marie Hake
Spoke Of Love Page 14
