The Blessed

by Ann H. Gabhart

  The lines moved slowly as each member of the Gathering House family went forward to kneel, the men in front of Elder Homer and the women in front of Eldress Frieda. They in turn pretended to sort through chests of clothes before pulling out some imaginary garment to drape around the shoulders of the sister or brother kneeling in front of them.

  “Then,” the sister next to Lacey whispered instructions in her ear. “Then the person stands and lets the angels help adjust the clothing before bowing low four times.”

  “I don’t see any angels. Do you?” Lacey whispered back.

  “Nay, but it is best to pretend to do so. And some sisters say they feel the angels’ hands straightening the collars of their holy dresses.” The sister whose name Lacey thought was Wilma shuffled forward to wait her time to pretend or perhaps to hope that this time she would feel the flutter of angel wings so near her. Her eyes were gleaming with excitement.

  Lacey went through the pantomime, bowing as instructed. She felt like she was back at the preacher’s house telling Rachel a pretend story about talking snakes. That made about as much sense. But it wasn’t time to be contrary. It was time to play along, do what they wanted until she could figure things out. Blessed are the meek.

  On the other side of the room, the brothers were doing the same. She caught sight of the preacher shuffling along beside Brother Forrest. He looked hardly aware of where he was. In sickness and in health. The words circled in her mind. How could she keep denying her responsibility? Keep refusing to pick up her cross and carry it? Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. The verse, a favorite of Miss Mona’s, popped up in Lacey’s head. But the verse was speaking to her now. Telling her that she could do whatever had to be done. The Lord would help her. Hadn’t he always helped her? Even when she was trying to run ahead of him to untangle her messes herself and just getting everything in a bigger tangle.

  Long into the night, she lay on the narrow Shaker bed and stared out at the darkness. Around her the other sisters were breathing softly in sleep. She should be sleeping too, but her thoughts kept springing first one way and then another. Aurelia and her angels. Isaac and the little cow. Isaac lifting her so easily off the ground with joy. Reuben saying little Jimmy was dead. The preacher out of his head. Aurelia Rachel’s mother. The whole group of Shaker brothers and sisters playing pretend like children playing paper dolls.

  “Put on this beautiful dress spun of pure gold, Sister Lacey, with emeralds for buttons.” Eldress Frieda had actually spoken those words to Lacey as she pretended to drape something over Lacey’s head. Then she had turned and offered the sister beside Lacey a gown bedecked in diamonds.

  The next morning the sisters rose at the sound of the morning bell, dressed in their Shaker dresses, and then went through the ridiculous pantomime of slipping on the heavenly garb the eldress had given them the night before. A couple of the sisters even asked Lacey to help fasten their dresses but to be sure to take care with the jeweled buttons. Lacey wanted to tell them to just pretend their arms were longer and do up their buttons themselves, but she quelled her contrary spirit and pretended to fasten their buttons. Perhaps if so many worries hadn’t been besetting her, she too could have enjoyed the break from the solemn Shaker duties of work.

  After the morning meal the whole village assembled at the meetinghouse and then began to march toward whatever place the angels speaking through their instruments had designated consecrated ground. A place called Chosen Land according to Sister Lena, who had stepped into the missing Aurelia’s place to instruct Lacey on the proper behavior for their Feast Day celebration as they had swept out the sleeping rooms that morning. Just because they were planning a celebration didn’t mean they could ignore the dust that might accumulate in the corners or under the beds if vigilance was not practiced in the war against dirt.

  Now somebody began singing and other voices joined in as they marched.

  How happy pretty little angels are, O how happy.

  They repeated the same words over and over until Lacey felt like the song was plowing a deep furrow in her brain that she might never climb out of. Happy. Happy. As though singing the word could make it so.

  Lacey had been instructed to keep her eyes straight ahead, but she sneaked looks toward the columns of men marching alongside the sisters. Preacher Palmer was there, his mouth spilling out the song, but even as he sang the happy words, his eyes were darting about as though on the lookout for something else. Something to climb perhaps. Not far behind him she spotted Isaac. Marching and singing like the rest. She wondered if he’d asked forgiveness for talking to her in the woods. If he had and Sister Drayma heard of it, Lacey would have some confessing and explaining to do. Saying Aurelia told her not to speak of it would be a lame excuse. Akin to Eve in the garden, blaming the serpent for her sin.

  She didn’t see Aurelia, but Sister Lena told her the instruments of the angels would be leading the way, followed by the Covenant-signed Believers. Lacey was in the last group of marchers, those on the fringes of belief in the Shaker way. Or unbelief.

  The song suddenly changed, flashing through the marchers like a grass fire.

  To the Chosen Land we are going as our voices praises sound.

  Our hearts unite in rejoicing as we enter this sacred ground.

  Lacey stopped even pretending to sing. She shouldn’t be there pretending to believe something she didn’t. Pretending to see angels. Pretending she had no choice but to play along. And still her feet kept moving forward with the others. Those who did believe that angels had brought down dresses of gold and robes of purple to ready the Shakers for whatever was going to happen next. The singing trailed off as the Believers began to circle around a stone enclosed inside a low fence, the men on the east side and the women on the west. When the circle around the enclosure was complete, a new circle formed behind it.

  Without any discernable signal that Lacey could note, a profound silence fell over the Shakers as every man and woman there became perfectly still. The air was so charged with anticipation that Lacey could almost see a glow hovering over the heads of the Shakers gathered closest to the rock. The fountain, or so Sister Lena had called it that morning as they had swept out the sleeping rooms.

  “There’s a marble stone in the middle and out of it holy water flows so that those free from sin can wash themselves clean,” she’d said. “Of course, it’s spirit water that can only be made real by how much you believe.”

  “And everybody does this?” Lacey asked.

  “Oh nay. As I said, only those free from sin. There’s a warning from the angels written in the stone for any who might defile it by trying to wash in the fountain’s water while yet in sin.”

  “I won’t be trying it for sure,” Lacey said.

  “You couldn’t anyway. Not as a novitiate. But you can partake of the spiritual fruit and drink of Mother’s wine. And then maybe next Feast Day you’ll be Covenant signed and able to wash clean at the fountain.”

  Lacey paused in her sweeping and looked over at Sister Lena swiping out the corners with the brush the Shakers made especially for that task. Small and birdlike in her movements, she had told Lacey she’d been a Believer for so long that she could barely remember her years before coming into the village.

  “Have you washed in the fountain?” Lacey asked. It all sounded so strange coming from the mouth of Sister Lena, who seemed every bit as full of common sense as Miss Mona had been.

  “Yea, what a gift. Three years now. One cannot begin to explain the feeling.” Sister Lena stood up and looked out the window. A strand of iron gray hair escaped her cap and she absentmindedly tucked it back out of sight.

  “Did you see angels?”

  “Oh my, did I see angels! Glorious winged creatures whose very presence burned even the least remnant of the desire to sin from my heart.” She turned toward Lacey with a smile all across her tiny face that made her wrinkles vanish. “That can happen to you at the feast as well,
Sister Lacey, even if you can’t wash in the fountain. The angels sometimes choose a young Believer. As they did Sister Aurelia a few years ago when she’d only been with us a short while.” Her eyes sharpened on Lacey. “Like you.”

  “Nay, I think not.”

  “Don’t naysay the spirit, little Sister. Let it shower down on you and fill your heart. Those troubles that you have carried here from the world will vanish like mist on a summer day.”

  When Lacey didn’t say anything, Lena sighed. “Perhaps in time you will be ready to accept the abundant gifts laid out for you here in this place.”

  “You don’t have to be a Shaker to receive gifts of the Spirit,” Lacey said.

  “So many do think.” Sister Lena shook her head sadly. “But Mother Ann has shown us the true way. If your feet aren’t set firmly on the path that she has made for us, then they are surely on the slippery path of destruction. A woeful path. One that I am sad to say many of our young sisters and brethren step upon, but I will pray that you follow after Sister Aurelia instead and find joy among us here.”

  Sister Aurelia. A shining light among the Shakers. Now she and other instruments of the spirit gathered in front of the fountain area where they were sprinkled with spiritual incense and draped in mantles of strength, according to an elder who narrated the events. Then Aurelia spun out away from the others and began singing while passing around the fountain.

  I sing for the angels who come down from above

  And bring us bounties of blessings of love.

  Blessings sent from our mother to land on us like a dove.

  Strength and power abound on this holy ground.

  She made a complete circle of the fountain and then did it once again. Lacey hadn’t heard Aurelia singing by herself before, but she had a beautiful voice that walked shivers up Lacey’s spine. It was easy to see why the Shakers thought the angels sang through her. But did they know she was the mother of a child? Without the sanctity of marriage. Had she confessed that to the Shakers and been forgiven? What had Eldress Frieda told Lacey? That all sins could be forgiven. Perhaps only those truly forgiven were given the powerful gifts of the spirit.

  With the blessing song complete, a lively dance broke out among the Shakers. No circling in fine order or marching up and back with straight lines. Instead the men and women began jumping and shouting while clapping their hands. Some bowed low. Others reeled and staggered about as though dizzy with drink. A few fell down on the ground and began rolling around like dogs having fits. Lacey, along with others new to the feast, stood back out of the way of the spiritual mayhem. It was frightening and wondrous at the same time. Not because she would ever believe as they did, but because they believed so completely to surrender every inch of their body to their spiritual ecstasy.

  Sister Drayma was there whirling and spinning. Sister Lena was hopping up and down and clapping her hands. Eldress Frieda was skipping around like Rachel when she was happy. The short little brother she’d seen so often with Isaac was leaping up and grabbing at the air as though he thought he could climb up into the sky. Lacey took a quick look around for Isaac and felt a strange gladness that he wasn’t taking part in the wild dancing. That like her, he was standing and watching in amazement but staying separate from their frenzied worship.

  Then Aurelia was beside her, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the dance. “Come, Sister, it is a time for dancing.”

  “Nay, Sister Aurelia. I don’t want to dance.” Lacey tried to jerk away from Aurelia, but her fingers were like a vise on her arm. They stood there a moment with neither of them giving ground as Lacey stared into the eyes that she should have recognized at once as being so like Rachel’s.

  “Aurelia is not here. I am Esmolenda and you must dance. Dancing with the angels is a gift you cannot refuse.”

  “I see no angels. I see only Sister Aurelia who has been playing a game with me, pretending to be my friend while trying to steal my child’s love.” That was another thing Lacey should have known from the moment Rachel had talked about the angels saying Sister Rella loved her best. Sister Rella. Aurelia.

  “Who stole the child first?”

  “Not stolen. Given. The baby was given to Miss Mona. To me.”

  “Given. Gifts are given but we cannot always choose our gifts.” Aurelia tightened her grip even more until she was bruising Lacey’s arm.

  “Turn loose of me, Aurelia. I will not pretend to see angels I do not see.”

  Aurelia’s face changed, lost the fierceness that had been burning in her eyes. Her hand relaxed on Lacey’s arm, but she still didn’t turn her loose. “But don’t you see, Lacey. Angels are all I have left to give you. Please come and dance with me.” Her voice was pleading. “With Esmolenda.”

  What could she do but put her hand in Aurelia’s and follow her as she twirled through the Shakers around the fountain that had no water? But then it wasn’t much different from her spring dance to celebrate the return of dandelions. In fact, if she looked about, she could no doubt see a spot of yellow sunshine poking up out of the grass. But when she looked back over her shoulder, what she saw was Isaac, and she knew who she wanted to be dancing with as she followed Aurelia. Without a doubt, hysteria reigned.

  31

  Isaac watched Sister Aurelia pull Lacey down into the dancing Shakers. If what they were doing could be called dancing. Brother Asa had tried to describe what the Feast Day would be like, but some things defied description. Or understanding. Yet, now when Isaac caught sight of Asa among the dancers, he had a look of rapture on his face the likes of which Isaac never expected to know.

  While Isaac had been feeling the timid desire to reach toward the Lord, doubts and fears kept pulling his hand back, but Brother Asa showed no sign of fear as he ran after the Lord with abandon. He believed. Isaac wanted to believe. He wanted to know Asa’s kind of faith. His mother’s kind of faith that was the bedrock of her life. Marian’s kind of faith that lit up her face with joyful peace even now as she whirled around the fountain rock. She didn’t look as if she’d ever had one doubt or one sin in need of forgiveness.

  He had the urge to go down and put his hands on her shoulders to stop her spinning. To make her tell him how she got such faith. To show him how to lose his doubts and find forgiveness. But then she’d never done what he’d done. She’d lived in this tranquil place half her life and never been the reason for someone she loved to die. What did she know about the need for forgiveness?

  The song they had practiced the night before came to mind. The Lord’s Prayer. His mother had taught him the words even before he went to live with the McElroys, and Mrs. McElroy made him repeat the prayer at least once a week. Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. Debts. He had no debts and no one owed him the first thing. But Bible debts were different. Trespasses, transgressions, sins that could be held against him. Unless he forgave.

  That was what Mrs. McElroy had told him. That to be forgiven he had to first forgive. He had stared the good woman in the eye and told her he didn’t care about forgiving anybody. That wasn’t going to bring his father back. His angry words had made her weep and pray over him, and when he was still unrepentant, she’d had Mr. McElroy take his belt to him. He’d taken the beating without protest. A just punishment for the unforgiven.

  He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Ella was dead because of him. Her parents bereft. The judge’s wrath justified. It was only fitting that here in this place where he thought he could shut himself away from the world and live without feeling anything that he had fallen in love with a woman who could never be his. Another just punishment.

  He was surprised when Lacey started dancing, but then he caught sight of her face. None of Brother Asa’s rapture there. No hint of the ethereal joy that played across Sister Aurelia’s face. She looked more like the awkward participant in a barn dance hoedown. A smile slipped back across his face. He didn’t want her to be one of them. Even if she wasn’t free to love him, he didn’t want her to be closed of
f to the possibility of love. Love and forgiveness.

  Forgive and be forgiven. The words echoed back in his head. He could forgive the judge for trying to exact revenge on him. He could forgive the McElroys for not being kinder to a grieving child. He could forgive Brother Verne for his lack of brotherly love and for the way he looked at Lacey. He could forgive Lacey for being married to the preacher.

  Then do it, a voice whispered in his head. He shut his eyes and once more reached for the Lord, this time with a steadier hand. “I forgive,” he spoke aloud, but even the man standing right beside him couldn’t have heard his words with the cacophony of songs and shouts rising all around them. “I forgive them all. Please. Grant me forgiveness in return.”

  He waited to feel something different. For a light to suddenly break over him. For one of the Shaker’s angels to come down and touch his shoulder. Nothing happened. He wanted something to happen. Something he could feel. Maybe there were more people he needed to forgive. His father for dying and leaving him alone. Ella for calling out to her mother instead of to him as she was dying.

  “I forgive them,” he said.

  A sudden silence surrounded him. He wasn’t sure if it was only in his ears or all around him until he looked up and saw the dancing had stopped. Elder Joseph was calling forth some of the brethren to carry tubs to either side of the fountain. There were no tubs in sight, but several men stepped forward to pretend to pick up something and carry it to each side of the fountain rock.

  The elder’s voice rang out. “Come all who are free of sin to wash in the waters from the fountain and scrub yourselves clean. But be warned, those harboring sins unconfessed and unforgiven must not defile the fountain’s waters.”

  Isaac had no thought of joining the line of brothers preparing for their scrubbing pantomime. Although it would surely feel good to be scrubbed clean and fresh. A kind of new beginning. Like the paralyzed man lowered down through the roof by his four friends. Jesus had forgiven his sins and the man had stood and rolled his bed up and walked home. A new beginning. Perhaps the Lord had put that story in his mind. Perhaps that was his shining light. His sign.