These Tangled Threads

by Tracie Peterson

  “I agree with you. I’m doubtful they could make it to the border on their own. There are too many tragedies that could befall two young girls traveling alone. However, they won’t be content if they’re forced to remain in Canterbury against their will,” Miss Crandall replied.

  Daughtie glanced at Liam. “I think the girls realize this is the wisest possible choice. Perhaps if you talk to them before making a final decision, you’ll feel more assured,” Daughtie suggested.

  “I think that’s an excellent suggestion. I’ll emphasize the complications and dangers of sending them off on their own and Mr. Donohue’s willingness to pay their fees to remain here and attend school. If they choose to stay, we’ll need to begin their instruction separate from the other students. I doubt if they read or write, and I wouldn’t want them to feel overwhelmed. I’ll have to rely upon the discretion of my girls to keep this matter a secret. However, with the inequity and hurtful behavior heaped upon us by the residents of Canterbury, I’m certain my students will be quick to protect Nelly and Minerva.”

  Daughtie sighed and gave the older woman a broad smile. “Thank you, Miss Crandall.”

  “Why don’t you two relax for a short time? I’ll have the girls come to my office, where we can visit privately, and then I’ll be back.”

  Daughtie watched Miss Crandall exit the room and then turned toward Liam, her eyes revealing a modicum of apprehension.

  He placed his hand atop hers for an instant. “No need for worryin’, lassie. Let’s sit back and let God work out His plan.”

  As they reached the outskirts of Canterbury, Liam snapped the reins, and the team of horses broke into a trot. “It’s been a pleasure havin’ the sun shinin’ down on us while we’ve been in Connecticut. Can’t say I’ve missed the rain,” he commented.

  Daughtie nodded her agreement and settled back on the wooden seat. “I’m relieved the girls decided to remain in Canterbury. They actually appeared happy by the time we left, don’t you think?”

  Liam remained silent, his lips turned upward in a self-satisfied smile.

  Daughtie stared at him, waiting. “Why are you smiling? Daughtie smiled and Did I say something humorous?”

  “Ah, lassie, you do make it difficult for me to be trustin’ in your Lord,” he finally replied with a lilt to his voice.

  Daughtie’s cheeks flushed. The truth of his words pricked her heart. “You’re right, Liam. God provided an answer, but I didn’t have faith He would see the plan through to completion. How can I expect others to believe when my own faith is so weak?” she lamented.

  “Now, don’t go bein’ so hard on yourself. God managed things just fine without ya this time. Surely He’s willin’ to accept a misstep now and again, don’t ya think?”

  Daughtie smiled and nodded. “Seems as if you’ve gotten to know quite a bit about God since the arrival of Nelly and Minerva.”

  “That’s true. Those girls have an unwaverin’ love for God that’s hard for me to understand. Even through the difficulties they’ve endured, they don’t doubt God’s love for them and they want everybody to know Jesus. ’Course, both Matthew Cheever and John Farnsworth have talked about their faith with me from time to time. However, while those girls made me long to learn more, it was you who made me aware of what I was really missin’ by tellin’ me to search the Scriptures for myself and pray.” He shifted on the wooden seat and took a deep breath. “Tell me, what do you think of the new doctor?” he asked.

  Daughtie gave him a sidelong glance. “Aren’t you the man who accused me of abrupt changes in conversation not so very long ago?”

  Liam gave a hearty laugh. “Now, don’t be avoidin’ my question, lassie,” he teasingly replied.

  Daughtie gave him a faint smile. “Dr. Ketter appears to be quite capable. Why do you ask?”

  “I saw him escortin’ you to the Farnsworths’ the other night. He looked to be enjoyin’ your company.”

  Daughtie’s brow furrowed as she thought for a moment. “I didn’t see you at the Farnsworths’.”

  “I know. John asked me to stop by and visit with ’im about some stonework. I thought I’d stop on me way home, but when I saw you and the doctor goin’ up the steps, I figured there was a party or some such thing goin’ on, so I went home. That doctor would make a good match for ya.”

  “Match? As in marriage?”

  Liam nodded.

  “Why would you even think such a thing? Dr. Ketter will likely make a good husband for some woman, but I’m certainly not interested in becoming his wife.”

  “And why would he be such a poor choice for you?”

  Daughtie swallowed down the lump that was rising in her throat. Obviously she had misconstrued Liam’s words and actions these past months. What a fool she was! He had merely wanted someone to decorate his home and help him with the runaways, when all the time she had secretly thought he was interested in her affections. Their long discussions, the playful banter, his kisses upon her cheek— they had all been nothing more than brotherly companionship.

  Liam gave her a lopsided grin. “Have ya lost your tongue, Daughtie? Never known ya to be so slow to answer,” he teased.

  Daughtie choked back her tears and inhaled a deep breath of the cool morning air. “Dr. Ketter and I don’t share the same values.”

  “Ya don’t? Why, the two of ya go to the same church most of the time, and ya said he’s a good man.” His brogue thickened.

  Why wouldn’t Liam let the matter rest? “He is a good man, but he’s not the man I want to marry,” she replied with finality.

  “Ya already told me that much. I’m askin’ why he isn’t the man for ya.”

  “And I answered you. Perhaps not to your satisfaction, but I did answer you.”

  “You’re soundin’ a wee bit ill-tempered, lassie. I’m only tryin’ to find out why you don’t want to marry this fella.”

  “Because I don’t love him,” she snapped.

  Liam gave her a broad smile. “Now, that was an answer!”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “Can we talk about something else now?”

  “I’m guessin’ he’s in love with you. Has he asked ya to marry ’im?”

  She clenched her jaw. “No.”

  “And ya don’t want him to ask ya?”

  “No!”

  “Strange,” he mused. “Most girls want to get married. Do ya not want a husband?”

  Why wouldn’t he quit badgering her with these questions about love and marriage? “Yes, I want a husband.”

  “So it’s just Dr. Ketter ya’re not wantin’?” he continued.

  “Yes,” she sighed in exasperation. “I want to marry a man who has a heart for the downtrodden. Dr. Ketter’s a physician, but his interest is directed toward those who can pay for their medical treatment. Even though he possesses the skill, Dr. Ketter’s not the type who would go into the Acre and help the sick merely because they are in need. I want to marry a man I love, a man who is willing to sacrifice for others—a man who would be willing to take the type of risks you’ve taken helping runaways. A man like you.”

  “Ah, but that could never happen, lassie, for ya know folks would never be acceptin’ a fine girl such as yourself takin’ up with someone of the lower class. They’d condemn and forsake ya for sure. Now think about it, what kind of life would that be?”

  “Two people of differing classes could still have a good marriage and a good life if they didn’t put stock in what others thought and believed. Besides, look at what Prudence Crandall has endured for the sake of girls she doesn’t even know. Do you think I’d be willing to do less for someone I love? The opinion of others is not what’s of importance to me. Besides, if a person truly cares for another, their country of birth should make no difference.”

  “What if your friend Bella and her fine husband would be havin’ nothin’ more to do with ya should you marry a man such as meself?” he ventured.

  “Are you asking me to marry you, Liam?”

  “A
nd if I were askin’, what would you be answerin’, lassie?”

  She looked toward a distant spot in the road. “I’d be required to tell you no—but not because you’re Irish,” she hastened to explain.

  He slowly nodded and hesitated, as if weighing her reply. “I’m almost afraid to ask this next question, but if it’s not because I’m Irish, and you’re unafraid of retribution from your friends, then why?”

  Daughtie nervously straightened the pleats in her yellow muslin dress. “You still haven’t told me exactly where you stand in your relationship with God. You’ve hinted that you’ve read the Scriptures and mentioned you’ve been praying, and although I would marry an Irishman, I could never marry a man who hasn’t avowed his belief in Jesus and accepted Him as his Savior. I fear such a match would lead to nothing but disaster and heartache,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Liam had leaned in close, obviously eager to hear every word. As soon as Daughtie finished speaking, he straightened and shifted back against the wagon seat. A deep sigh escaped his lips.

  She turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

  “I think ya’re looking for an excuse! If ya can’t see how much I’ve changed and grown in my beliefs, well, I doubt I could convince ya by any words I would say. Why, my poor mother would be horror-struck if she knew the changes I’ve gone through since movin’ to America.”

  “What kind of changes?” she asked, squelching her instinct to argue against his comment about excuses.

  “Changes such as discoverin’ that what I’ve needed all my life is to know Jesus—and that I’ve been able to go through the steps of transformin’ my life by acceptin’ Him as my Lord and Savior. Not only would she be dumbfounded by the statement, she’d likely believe I’ve lost my mind.”

  “And have you lost your mind, Liam?”

  He reined back on the horses. “No,” he replied softly. “But I have lost my heart.”

  Daughtie trembled. “Oh?”

  “I, too, want to be marryin’ for love, but I fear my desire might never be fulfilled.”

  Daughtie stiffened and lifted her chin ever so slightly. “Well, of course it won’t be fulfilled if you don’t ask her the question.”

  Liam raised a brow. “And what question would that be, lass?”

  She maintained her serious demeanor and leaned closer. “Will you marry me?”

  Liam looked at her for a moment and then began to smile. “Of course I will,” he replied. Then with a flick of the reins he put the horses into motion. “Besides,” he added, “I’ll have to be doin’ somethin’ to keep yar reputation from bein’ ruined after us bein’ alone like this.”

  Daughter giggled and then began to laugh even harder. “Oh, Liam.”

  He stopped the horses again, looking at her with grave concern. “What madness has taken ya now?”

  She shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes. “You’re worried about marrying me to keep my reputation intact.”

  He looked at her as if she were daft. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, his voice taking on an indignant tone.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it, except marrying you isn’t going to exactly save my reputation.”

  From the grin on his face, Daughtie realized he finally understood. “Well, if the town’s goin’ to be up in arms over ya, then we may as well give them plenty to be up in arms about. This way will make me a whole lot happier than the other.” He reached out and pulled Daughtie close.

  Daughtie looked up, knowing he would kiss her. She longed for his kiss—his touch—like nothing she had ever longed for before. Reaching up, she toyed with the black curls at the nape of Liam’s neck.

  “I think I’ve loved you for a very long time, my handsome Irishman,” she whispered.

  He pressed his mouth to hers in a very gentle, tender kiss. Daughtie tightened her arms around his neck and sighed as the kiss deepened and she seemed to melt against him.

  He pulled away, pushing back a loose wisp of her hair. “I love you, my darlin’. But lovin’ ya won’t make others accept us together as man and wife. I want ya to think long and hard about this. I want ya to be sure before we make our vows.”

  Daughtie straightened and relunctantly left Liam’s hold. “I am certain, but I’m quite willing to pray on it.” She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “But don’t ya go thinkin’ to get out of yar agreement to marry me,” she said, trying hard to imitate Liam’s Irish brogue. “I’ll not be havin’ it.”

  CHAPTER 30

  “Isn’t that ten feet?” Daughtie questioned as Liam shoveled yet another load of dirt onto the tarp. They’d connected a pulley to the tarp in order to bring the dirt out of the hole and still it was an exhausting process.

  “Not quite. It’s close, but not quite ten,” he said, looking at the small area.

  Liam had gotten the brilliant idea to dig a hiding place for the slaves. Here in the barn, they could easily conceal it, and if anyone should find it, they would simply say they’d dug a root cellar. The plan was quite simple. The dimensions were to be eight by ten and seven feet deep, with shelves on the wall for supplies and a hidden airway near the wall of the barn. They’d been working on the hiding place since late summer, as time permitted. Daughtie thought the process was taking too long, but Liam assured her they were doing just fine.

  “It’s not going to be very light down here and they won’t be able to burn a lantern,” Daughtie said as she surveyed the room. “The air will quickly grow bad.”

  “Aye, but ’tis only goin’ to be used for emergencies,” Liam reminded her. “A place to hide them away in case the house is searched or they arrive when no one is to home.”

  “I know. It just seems . . . well . . . almost like a grave.”

  He stopped what he was doing and pulled her close.

  “Daughtie, my darlin’, you worry too much.” He turned her toward the ladder. “Let’s get this dirt out of here and go have some tea.”

  Daughtie nodded. She hiked her skirts and climbed to the top, knowing Liam would finish tying the tarp to the pulley rope. It was only a moment or two before he bounded up the ladder to join her. He took hold of the rope and heaved the heavy weight ever upward. Daughtie’s job was to guide the mass once it cleared the hole and pull it to the side, where Liam would deposit it.

  Reaching out, she pulled the tarped bundle toward her, but just as she had the bundle in place the load shifted. Daughtie lost her footing and fell backward onto the straw-covered floor—landing with surprising impact despite the cushioning. Liam quickly lowered the load and hurried to her side.

  “Are ya hurt?”

  She laughed and rubbed her backside as he helped her to her feet. “Only me pride, luv.” They laughed at her mimicking Irish.

  “Well, for sure ya have straw in yar hair,” Liam said, allowing his brogue to become heavy.

  “And for sure, ya have straw in yar hair, too,” Daughtie said, reaching down to grab a handful to sprinkle over Liam’s head.

  He laughed and lifted her in his arms. “Ah, my dar-lin’— my wife,” he murmured between kisses.

  Daughtie reached up to take hold of his face as he stared down at her. “I am so very happy to hear you call me that.”

  She thought back to the difficulty they’d had in finding someone to marry them. No one wanted to allow a Yankee girl to marry an Irishman. The prejudices were strong— even among men of God who should have been able to see each man as God’s child. They’d finally been forced to drive several miles to another town, where Liam managed to convince the Methodist preacher that they were both of age and in love. Daughtie had remained quiet except for an occasional reply in her attempted brogue. The preacher had seemed hesitant until Liam had added that they weren’t Catholic and because of this, the Catholic Church would not marry them. The man then took pity on them and performed a hasty ceremony.

  “I love—”

  “Shhh!” Liam declared, putting his finger to Daugh
tie’s lips. “Someone’s coming.”

  They got to their feet quickly, dusting off the straw as best they could. “Sounds like the entire town is coming,” Daughtie said, hurrying to the barn door with Liam following behind.

  “Looks like at least three wagons—maybe four,” she said, peeking from the narrow opening in the door. She glanced back with apprehension toward the hole in the floor.

  “Relax. If someone questions it, we’ll just tell ’em we’re puttin’ in a root cellar. There’s no need to be afraid.”

  Daughtie nodded. “I know, but we didn’t want anyone knowing about it. The whole idea was to hide it away after we completed it.”

  “Aye, and for sure ya’re right. Let’s just go on outside and greet whoever it is and hope they’ll not be wantin’ to come to the barn.”

  Daughtie knew it was the sensible thing to do, but a part of her was still afraid. What if the visitors had come to do them harm? People had not been happy to learn of their union. Daughtie was still snubbed whenever she went into town, and more than once she’d been turned away when a storeowner pointed to a sign that strictly forbade Irish to enter.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped outside. The sunlight was warm on her face and hard on her eyes. She squinted and shielded her eyes with her hand. “Oh, it’s Bella and Taylor!” she squealed in excitement. “And I do believe that’s Miss Addie and John Farnsworth behind them.”

  Liam took hold of her hand, and together they walked to the front of the house. Taylor brought his wagon to a stop just beyond the front walkway. Bella was already waving in anticipation.

  “Hello, Daughtie—Liam! We’ve brought you some gifts.”

  John and Addie pulled their carriage up alongside the wagon, while Matthew and Lilly Cheever came up behind them.