A Heart Set Free

by Janet S. Grunst

  Maggie shook her head. “How did Robert think you would not find out, particularly if you moved to Edinburgh? What was he thinking?”

  “A few weeks after Robert’s wife’s visit, I received a letter from him. His wife had told him of her trip to Perth to see me. He said that by the time he formed an attachment to me he was reluctant to tell me of his marriage for fear of losing me. He was very apologetic. He explained that he had a marriage of convenience with little love or affection. He said he hoped his wife and he would reach an agreement or settlement. But she was satisfied, if not content, with having the facade of a marriage.” Heather wandered to the window. “I know, Maggie. I sound so foolish. It was something at the end of his letter that opened my eyes to Ross’ involvement. Robert said he regretted the deception and involving Ross in it, and that he was as desperate in his way as Ross was in his.”

  Maggie joined her at the window. “You were betrayed by the man you loved and your brother. It is no wonder you closed your heart.”

  “My father had died before I got the letter explaining Ross’ involvement, so my father went to his grave believing I had brought scandal on the family. I felt abandoned by everyone. The main pursuit of my life, caring for my father, was gone. Now, all I had was my family’s home and shop. But Ross robbed me of that also.”

  “How? I would think he would be ashamed of his complicity.”

  “Two days after Father’s burial, Ross approached me to tell me that he had sold the shop, our home, and all its contents. He had used the money to settle his debts. His wife’s father offered him a position in his firm and invited Ross’ family to live in his large home. I was without a job, home, and resources. Given the growing scandal, leaving Perth, and even Scotland, seemed the best option.”

  Their discussion halted when Adam and the children came into the house in search of dinner. Heather quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. It had been difficult to share her shame with Maggie, but it seemed less a burden now that it was addressed. Besides, that was behind her now, finally. Today she just wanted to enjoy her friends.

  The conversation at dinner was constant and jovial. More than once Randolph sent everyone into gales of laughter. At one point, the rabbit crawled into Adam’s folded waistcoat left on the hearth, only to begin hopping around the room in an effort to get free.

  Mary seemed unusually quiet and pale. Heather hoped it was only because the Duncans’ departure was drawing near and not because she was feeling ill.

  After the dishes had been cleaned and put away, Maggie put an arm around Heather. “You have many choices ahead of you. We want only the best for you, whether you stay or go. You know where we are if you ever need help or friends.”

  “Thank you, Maggie, and thank you for your prayers.” She embraced her friend.

  Within moments, Adam announced the family’s departure. “We have a bit of a journey ahead of us.” He faced Heather. “We will be back before long. Matt and I plan on doing some hunting.”

  The Stewarts said their farewells and waved to the Duncans as they got situated in their wagon.

  Adam called out to her as they began rolling along the path. “We shall expect to see all of you in Alexandria before too long.”

  By evening, she had finished her chores. Mark, now bored with Randolph’s antics, begged her to read to them.

  “Please go and get your primer. We shall read from that for a while.” Was Mary overtired? She seemed distracted and moody.

  “It has been a busy day. Perhaps we should just eat a light supper and go to bed. We can read tomorrow.” She got up to prepare a snack.

  With their prayers said and the children under their quilt, she knelt beside the pallet.

  “Are you well, Mary? Is something wrong?”

  “No. I am fine.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  She kissed them both. “Pleasant dreams.”

  She checked on the animals one last time, came inside, and secured the cottage.

  It had been a good visit, the best yet with Maggie and Adam. There was comfort in their presence, and now, a new openness. She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and stood staring out the window, glancing around the moonlit farm. So why was she still not truly at peace?

  As she climbed into bed, she fluffed the pillows and wrapped the cotton shawl more securely around herself. Not yet ready for sleep, she propped herself up and gazed out the window at the stars beyond.

  Please help me through this, Lord. You know my intentions to forgive Ross, but I still have resentment and bitterness. How do I keep those thoughts from returning? She wiped a tear from her eye and continued gazing at the evening sky. I have made a confusing muddle of my life. Lord, I want and need your guidance.

  She sat there a few minutes more, thinking about the choices she would make in the days to come. You know what path I should take, Lord, so incline my heart to hear and follow after You in everything that lies ahead. I trust You. Thank You for the love and the grace You continually extend to me.

  She put the shawl aside, slid down into the warmth of the bed, and fell asleep.

  She had not been asleep long when the sound of her name being called slowly brought her to consciousness. Mary stood beside the bed.

  “What is wrong, child?” she rasped.

  “Donald Duncan told me that you are going to leave because you are not happy here. Is that true?”

  CHAPTER 26

  “Here, crawl into bed where it is warm, and I will try to explain.” Heather held back the covers, coaxing Mary under them.

  Mary hesitated, and then slid into the bed beside her. “It is my fault. You are unhappy because I did not want you here.”

  “Nay, Mary. It has nothing to do with you.” She cradled her, and with her free hand, brushed back the young girl’s hair from her face.

  “Then why are you going?”

  “Your father has offered me my freedom. I signed a seven-year indenture, an agreement that I would work for seven years to pay for my passage here from Scotland. He has been generous and gracious enough to offer me my freedom six and a half years early.”

  Mary sniffled. “Does that mean you have to go? You are married.”

  Her heart ached as she suddenly tried to avoid Mary’s questioning eyes. “Well, dear, I am not sure this arrangement has worked out as your father had hoped it would. I think he believes a different situation would be better for all of you. Trust him, Mary. He loves you and Mark very much. He will always do what is best for you.”

  “But I do not want you go. I am so sorry I was mean to you. I cannot even explain why I did not want you here.”

  Heather held the sobbing child close.

  “Please do not go.”

  She remained silent. Believe me, I do not want to go.

  “We will talk more tomorrow, Mary. Right now, we both need sleep.” When their tears finally subsided, they slept.

  The next morning, she woke before Mary and silently slipped from the warm bed to dress. By the time Mary got up, Heather and Mark were out in the henhouse, gathering eggs.

  “Good morning.” She smiled at the child. Best not to bring up last night.

  “I slept late.” Mary joined in with the egg gathering. “Do you want me to help you with the milking?” Mary seemed more cheerful this morning. The young were so resilient.

  “Nay. The milking has been done. Thank you, though. There is a jug of milk cooling in the water bucket if you want some. And I set out some cornbread for you.”

  Mark handed Mary his basket and left. Mary placed the few eggs she had found in it.

  “Heather ...”

  “Aye, child?”

  “Please do not tell Mark yet about leaving. Tell him later, after Papa comes home.”

  She studied the pleading brown eyes. It was a small favor to honor if it would cheer Mary. “I suppose it can wait until then.”

  Several days went by without reference to Heather’s departure. It was a busy interval, filled with the ro
utine chores required of a household and farm. They were good days; the best she had experienced in many months. It was as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She slept more peacefully, and when awake, she was filled with a newfound energy and enthusiasm.

  Heather washed their clothes and was wringing them out, a mundane chore that always invited her mind to wander. She needed to plan her future. Was she purposely avoiding thinking about her eventual departure and other things she would rather not address?

  Mary came outside, beaming. “See, I finished Mark’s shirt.”

  She took the shirt and examined it. “You did an excellent job. The stitches are nice and even. Your father will be proud and impressed with your work.” She draped the rest of the wet clothes on the shrubbery. When she again glanced at Mary, the child was seated on a large boulder, shucking corn for the stew.

  “That is probably enough corn. Thank you. You can set it inside and help yourself and Mark to some of the ham and bread. When I am done, I will be in to finish the stew.”

  Two hours later, it was a race to see if they would be able to gather the clothes and get them into the cottage before an approaching storm reached the farm. Mark laughed. He was caught up in the excitement as he followed along with the basket, catching the clothes she and Mary tossed his way.

  They all ran into the house just as the downpour began. The repetitive sound of the refreshing rain hitting the roof, and the occasional popping of the pine logs in the fire, made the cottage feel like a safe haven. Heather approached Mark as he stood near the simmering stew pot hanging in the hearth. “Not too close, Mark.”

  He stepped back. “It smells good, and I am hungry.”

  Mary set the table for supper. “Do you think Papa will be back soon?”

  “Perhaps. It is difficult to say when he shall return. It will depend on whether he finished his business or if there were any delays.” Her heart longed for the answer as well. He might be with Caroline at this very moment, asking her to become his wife once Heather left. Caroline would be happy here, make the children happy ... make Matthew happy. She shook her head. Why did she allow her mind to dwell on such things?

  Later, after settling the children down for the night, Heather poured herself some tea and sat by the hearth. She had purposely tried not to think of Matthew’s eventual return. It was the only painful subject she had not resolved. Now, anticipating his homecoming, a variety of conflicting emotions filled her.

  She wanted him to come home—he was missed by all—yet she was uncertain what would happen when he returned. She stoked the dwindling fire in the hearth and wrapped her shawl tightly about her. It had grown chilly. She studied the room, wanting to memorize every detail. She walked to the window and peered out at the approach to the farm. The rain had passed, and the sky was clear. Someday he would come up that drive. Then what? For the better part of an hour, she paced through the small cottage, trying not to make any noise that would wake the children. Emotionally exhausted, she poured herself more tea and once again sat in the chair before the fire.

  What do you want, Matthew Stewart? Did he want to forgive her indenture so that he could be free himself? She sighed and sank deeper into the chair, gazing at the dying light from the fire, and wiped the tears now rolling down her cheeks. She would not blame him for that. Their marriage had not been one of love, despite the few moments when they reached out to one another in their loneliness. Nay, they were brought together by their separate tragedies. They were both seeking solutions to their own difficult situations. She finished the tea and slowly got up to take the tankard to the table. I cannot help but wonder, Matthew, had we met under different circumstances, would we—nay. It was foolish to even speculate.

  She scanned the room again. Caroline would fit in well here. Everyone loved her. She would be the loving wife Matthew deserved and the caring mother these children needed.

  Heather Douglas—Stewart. Stop imagining Caroline here.

  Studying the star-filled sky, she pondered her future. She would hire out. Surely there were families in need of someone to care for their children. Or perhaps she would find a position as a seamstress. Where, though? She had only been to Alexandria. Maybe Maggie would know how she should go about obtaining that kind of work. But how would she get to Alexandria? She tried to sort it out. Would Matthew tell her to find her own way? Nay, he would not do that. They would go into town to see the Duncans, but she would stay there, never to return to the farm.

  Sobbing, she glanced down to the shirt she had made him. Lightly, she ran her fingers over the coarse, creamy fabric. “Matthew Stewart, I do not want to leave. I love you.”

  Her declaration startled the rabbit. He immediately began hopping about.

  “I am sorry, Randolph. I did not mean to frighten you.” She picked up the quivering ball of fur, held it close, and stroked it. She sat in the chair by the hearth.

  “Randolph, you could have left any time you wished. Have you stayed only for food and shelter, or was affection also a consideration? You are so trusting with those dark little eyes.” She placed him back in his crate.

  Later, as she undressed and crawled into bed, a sense of renewal filled her. The past could not be changed. She needed to press on to what was ahead, to trust again and not fear being hurt, and to have faith that those she cared for would not betray her.

  She thought of Sara, missing her wisdom and encouragement. The gift of Sara’s friendship during those difficult months on board the ship had blessed her at such a crucial time in her life. Sara had shared so much with her—the power of forgiveness, the shelter of faith, and the richness of an ongoing relationship with God. They were not empty words Sara had spoken but a deep faith that she lived out in her own life.

  Maggie and Amelia also came to mind, newer acquaintances who also offered friendship.

  She smiled. Lord, You have provided me with all that I ever needed. I do not know what is ahead of me, but I trust You and want to be ready to follow wherever You choose to lead me. She drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 27

  Heather set towels down by the large wooden barrel and arranged the screen around it. “Check the water, Mary.”

  “The water is still too cold.”

  “I will go see if the other kettle has heated up enough yet.” Heather walked back into the cottage, only to return a few minutes later, carrying more steaming water to add to the tub. “That should do it.” She bent over to check the temperature. “Aye, that is plenty warm, lass. Be thankful that you get to take yours first. Now be quick so Mark can get in and out of there too.”

  “May I wear my blue dress to church tomorrow?” Mary stepped out of her chemise and into the warm water.

  “Aye, and I shall wear mine also.” She filled the kettle again from the rain barrel and started back toward the steps. “Praise God for all the rain the past few days.”

  Once the children were bathed and occupied inside, she took her turn in the tub. The warm water relaxed and refreshed her. How different the farm was now, compared to when she arrived. The most startling contrast was the change in seasons. Until recently, vibrant greens covered almost every tree and shrub. Now, the holly and pine trees remained green, but the leaves on the remaining trees were brown, gold, and rust. The ground was a colorful carpet of dead and dying leaves.

  As pleasant as it was basking in the tub, it had gotten cold. It was time to rinse off and get inside. With a cloth wrapped around her damp hair, she quickly dried and dressed.

  Inside, she huddled in front of the fire, where Mark and Mary were playing with Randolph.

  “Are you two warm enough?”

  “I am now.” Mary nodded.

  “I am plenty warm, but I am hungry.” Mark’s eyes searched the table.

  “Well, as soon as I comb out my hair, we can get the supper on. The hot soup should warm our insides.”

  They teased and joked about their half-drowned appearance during supper.

  “Did you hear som
ething, Mary?”

  “No.”

  She got up from the table and went to the window. Someone was out there. “It is probably Mr. Whitcomb.” She tried to sound calm but glanced to where the gun was perched, praying she would not need it. Where was the moonlight tonight when she needed it? It finally appeared from behind a cloud.

  There it was—a horse. “Oh, my.” Her hand went to her throat.

  Heather lifted the bar that crossed the door. “It is your father.” Her heart raced. Calm yourself. She took her apron off and put her hands up to her hair. She shuddered. It must be a sight, still damp and hanging loose. Stop fretting. Thank You, Lord, for bringing him home safely.

  The children shot through the open door. Once Matthew dismounted, they flew into their father’s arms.

  “Whoa, you almost knocked me off the step.” Joy was etched on his face at the sight of his children.

  She stood back, clutching the door handle until her knuckles grew sore. She greeted him with a nod of the head.

  “I hope I did not give you all a start.” He pried himself loose from the small, grasping arms. “I was close enough that I did not want to stay away another night. Children, let me unload this poor tired beast. Here.” He handed them each some of the smaller parcels.

  Heather intervened. “Carry those inside, children, and give your father a chance to take care of the horse. I will set another place at the table.” She struggled for the right words to say. “I hope your journey went well. It is good to have you home.” How much more should she dare say? She placed a bowl of chowder and some biscuits at his place.

  Matthew set the remaining bags by the door, looked up, and seemed to search her eyes. “Thank you, Heather. I think it was a fruitful trip, and it is very good to be back.” His smile was reserved, not as full as it had been a few minutes earlier. He had more than a full day’s growth of beard. The sight of him filled her with joy. She reached for the back of a chair to steady herself. Had he noticed the flush in her cheeks?