“I wanted to keep a record from when she was born. I wanted her to know about Hope one day . . . and even Tomahas.” She paused for a long moment, then began again. “I thought it important that she know the truth about her origins. I would want to know if it were me, and while it might be difficult for Hope—I think it’s only fair.”
Again, Eletta fell silent. Her eyes opened and closed several times, as if she were trying to clear her vision. “Mercy?”
“I’m here.” Mercy squeezed Eletta’s hand.
“I want you to read the journal . . . then keep it for her. One day when you think she’s ready—share it with her. Help her understand.”
“I will. I promise.” Mercy fought back tears. “What else can I do?”
“I’d like to write in the journal one more time.”
“I’ll get it.” Mercy went to the bag and found the journal and pencil Eletta had tied to it. She brought it to the bed and placed it in Eletta’s hands. “Here you are.”
“I don’t think I have the strength to write, and I’m not seeing well. Will you do it for me?” she asked.
Mercy nodded and quickly took the journal back. She untied the pencil and opened to the last entry Eletta had made. “Do you want to know what you wrote last?”
“No. I remember well enough.”
Mercy turned to a blank page. “All right. I’m ready.”
Eletta drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes. “Faith, as I lie here, knowing my time is very short, you are my only thought.” Her words were barely audible and slow. “You have been such a joy to me. I could never have known such completion . . . such joy without you. I’m so sorry to leave you, and sorry too that I could not fill this book with all . . . manner of wisdom and thought. It was always my intention to do so and leave it for you as a legacy.”
She paused, and for a moment Mercy thought she’d fallen asleep. She rechecked the words she’d just written and had started to close the book when Eletta opened her eyes and continued.
“Your papa and I loved you very much, even though you were not flesh of our flesh, and we will continue to love you in glory. God gave you to us. Despite the past and the difficulties that accompanied your birth, I want you to always remember that you are . . . a gift from God.”
Eletta seemed to gather strength, and her voice grew steady. “He alone can create life—or take it. Please remember this and do not abandon Him in anger at my passing or your papa’s. My only regret in having you as my daughter is that I won’t get to see you grow up—marry and perhaps have children of your own. But that is my only regret where you are concerned. You have been a wonderful daughter. I pray you will be a godly woman—one who continues to love all and not judge men by the color of their skin. Given your own mixed heritage, I’m certain you will be generous with your consideration and kindness.”
Mercy finished writing. Eletta remained silent, causing Mercy to look up. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes . . . just a bit more.” She drew another ragged breath and then continued. “Mercy is your aunt by blood and Adam is your uncle by . . . because of love. They will care for you and see that you are always provided for. I know this, because they love you even as your papa and I have loved you. They are good and loving people, and I have faith in them to make you a good home. Always remember, you are loved.”
Mercy couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. She closed the journal and again took hold of Eletta’s hand. “I will see to her upbringing in whatever way I can. I do make you that promise.”
“I know you will care for her as if she were your own.” Eletta smiled. “I could not rest half so easy if it were not for knowing you and Adam will always be there for her.”
Mercy smiled. “I know he will do whatever he can.”
“I’m glad you found each other.”
Mercy looked at her oddly. “Faith and I?”
Eletta shook her head. “You and Adam. I know you’ve come to care for each other. I hoped for that from the moment you first arrived. Before . . . actually. Grace used to write of her concerns about you finding a proper husband who loved God. We’ve long prayed for you.”
“For me?” Mercy could imagine the content of the letters that had passed between Eletta and Grace. She smiled. “I suppose that shouldn’t come as any surprise. Grace has mentioned on many occasions praying for me to find the right man to marry.”
“We prayed for more than just that, but a woman alone is so vulnerable to the evils of the world, and we both wanted you and Hope to be safe. When Hope found her husband, we both rejoiced. I cried when I read of Lance’s love for her. She so needed that love.”
Mercy couldn’t agree more. “Well, I know we all appreciated your prayers.” She patted Eletta’s hand. She could see by the woman’s eyes that she was in pain. “Why don’t I fix you some tea?”
“No.” Eletta shook her head. “I’m beyond it helping.”
Biting her lip to keep from crying, Mercy tucked Eletta’s journal in her pocket. She had come to care so much for this woman—had hoped to keep her and the baby alive. It was so hard to accept that she could do nothing more.
“Adam went through some very painful rejections in his past,” Eletta whispered. “I’m sure he’ll tell you about it one day, but for now . . . just love him.”
Mercy swallowed the lump in her throat. “I . . . I will.”
Eletta nodded. “Would you ask Faith to come be with me? I want to hold her and say good-bye.”
Mercy could barely speak for the sorrow in her heart. “Yes.”
She stepped out into the main living area where Faith sat with her doll by the crudely fashioned woodstove. “Faith, your mama wants you to come see her.”
She abandoned the doll and got to her feet. “Is Mama much worse?”
“I don’t think she has much time.” Mercy brushed back Faith’s bangs and kissed her forehead. “I know you’ll bring her comfort. Be strong—for her sake.”
Faith nodded and went into the small room where she and her mother, as well as Mercy, had slept since their arrival in Gold Beach.
Mercy tried to busy herself with daily duties, but her mind was on what Eletta had said about loving Adam. She did love him. There was no doubt in her mind. The only problem was whether she could convince him to return her love.
She thought of Grace and Hope and how they had managed to fall in love and secure their men. Grace had never been one to give her heart easily, but Alex had completely won her over. They hadn’t come together without difficulties, to be certain, but their love had been too strong to let them be separated for long. With Hope, it had been the opposite. Hope had given her heart away quite freely as a young woman. Mercy couldn’t remember how many times Hope had declared herself to be “in love.” Even at the Whitman Mission, she had fallen in love with young John Sager. When he was killed in the massacre, everything changed for Hope. She lost her carefree spirit and her ability to love. At least until Lieutenant Lance Kenner came into her life.
With a sigh, Mercy picked up one of Adam’s shirts, which she’d promised to mend for him. She brushed the edge of the sleeve against her lips. She hardly knew this man, and yet she’d lost her heart to him.
She settled onto the wooden bench they’d positioned near the stove and took a needle and thread from her small sewing basket. With each stitch, Mercy thought of her future. At this point she had no real choice but to return to Grace and Alex’s home. However, Faith would be with her—perhaps Adam too. But while Adam wouldn’t cause any upset, Faith was another story. How could Mercy just show up with Faith and demand Hope accept her? It would be cruel.
“But what other choice do I have?”
She finished the shirt and decided to work on a pair of Faith’s stockings that needed darning. Going to the bedroom, Mercy peered in to see Faith tucked in bed alongside Eletta. Both were asleep. It made for a tender picture—one Mercy knew she’d not soon forget. She remembered doing something similar when her mothe
r was dying. She’d hoped to give her mother strength and health through their embrace. She had wanted to will Mama to live—just as she was sure that Faith wanted to will Eletta to live.
“But it wasn’t enough,” she whispered to herself.
Tears begin to fall, and Mercy quickly wiped them away and forced herself to be strong. Crying wouldn’t help anything. It wouldn’t bring the dead back or keep the dying alive.
Picking up Faith’s clean stockings, Mercy hurried back to the front room and focused on her work.
By eight o’clock that night, Mercy knew Eletta was going to die. She no longer woke, and her breathing had grown shallow. Sometimes she even stopped breathing for several seconds.
When the front door to their house opened to admit Adam and the army doctor, Mercy felt a sense of relief. She needed someone else to be in charge. Even for a few minutes. She went to the far corner of the room where a small table stood with two empty crates for chairs. Faith sat on one of the crates, reading one of Mercy’s books.
“Are you enjoying learning about the kings and queens of England?”
Faith looked up and nodded. “I never knew about all the trouble folks had with church.”
Mercy was glad for something to discuss other than Eletta’s condition. “Yes. We have freedom of religion here in America because of what happened in Europe. When folks came here, they were determined to worship in whatever way they felt was right. It’s a very important freedom we’ve been given, and we should never take it for granted.”
“I don’t know why God let there be so much trouble over it,” Faith replied, closing the book. “A lot of people got killed for what they believed. King Henry the Eighth had people killed who didn’t think he was in charge of the church. Then his daughter Mary killed people who didn’t worship like she did. So many people died for wanting to worship God in their way.”
Mercy nodded. “People still do.” She thought of the Indians and the missionaries who’d come west to minister to them. That had started so many of the problems they were dealing with today, and yet God admonished His believers to go into the world and share the gospel.
“Belonging to God isn’t an easy thing to do, is it?”
Faith’s question made Mercy smile. “Belonging to Him is easy enough, but serving Him can cost a man his life. But we must be ready to lay down our lives for Him.”
“Like Mama and Papa?”
“Yes. Like your mama and papa.”
Adam stepped out of the bedroom. The look on his face said it all.
“Is she gone?” Mercy asked, getting to her feet.
Adam crossed the room to Faith and lifted her into his arms. “Yes. Your mama and papa are both with God now.”
Mercy forced her sorrow down deep and remained composed. She looked at Faith, who also wore a stoic expression.
“Can I see her?” Faith asked.
Adam nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“I just want to see her one more time, and then they can bury her.”
Adam carried her to the bedroom door, then set her down. Mercy followed them. She had said good-bye to her dead mother in a similar fashion. It had been important to see her one more time—to assure herself that death was nothing to fear.
She and Adam watched Faith as she moved to the side of the bed. The doctor was putting away his things. He gave Faith a nod, then picked up his bag and came to where Mercy and Adam stood.
He spoke in a whisper. “I’ll have a grave dug. We can bury her tomorrow.”
Adam nodded. “Thank you. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
The doctor shrugged. “I wish it could have ended differently.”
“So do I,” Adam replied.
The doctor left, and Mercy turned her attention back to Faith. The little girl was tenderly stroking her mother’s face and speaking in whispers too low to hear.
“I’m going to see about making a coffin,” Adam said. He started to leave, then turned back to Mercy. “Will you be all right?”
She nodded. “Yes. When Faith is done saying good-bye, I’ll put her to bed and then prepare Eletta for burial.”
Adam gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then left. Mercy had felt a sense of comfort in his presence that was now gone. She prayed she could stay strong for Faith’s sake, but already she could feel her emotions getting the best of her. She gathered bedding from the floor of Eletta’s room where she and Faith had been sleeping and made a place for them in the open front room. She positioned them on the opposite side of the woodstove from where Adam had made his pallet.
She’d no sooner finished that task than Faith appeared at her side. The small girl looked up at Mercy, then took hold of her hand. Tears began to stream down the child’s cheeks. Mercy gathered Faith into her arms and carried her to the bench in front of the stove, where she cradled Faith like a babe.
For a long time, Faith cried in Mercy’s arms. Mercy could only hold her and let her sorrow play itself out. There were no words that could make this better. Sometimes the quiet could be more comforting.
Mercy lost track of how long they sat there, but after a time, Faith fell asleep. Her face was still wet with tears, and from time to time she gave a little sob in her sleep. Mercy stared at the child for several minutes. She could see her sister’s features in Faith’s face. She hadn’t thought much about it, but Faith looked very much like Hope. Maybe once Hope saw that, she would be able to let Faith back in her life.
She put Faith to bed and whispered a prayer for God’s strength and guidance. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the future, but she felt ill-equipped for it. She had promised to take on the responsibility of a child, and even though she had it in the back of her mind that Hope might want to raise Faith herself, Mercy had made a promise. It was a daunting thought.
Mercy found her bag of herbs and vinegar and set it aside. Next she filled a bowl with hot water. She added vinegar and lavender to the water and took it to the bedroom to prepare Eletta’s body for burial. She washed Eletta first, then dressed her in her best gown. It was nothing fancy, just a simple plaid wool of blue and green. Mercy combed out Eletta’s long blond hair and then braided it into a single plait to coil around the top of her head like a crown. Last of all, she gathered sage and lavender from her herb bag and bound them together, then lay them in the bowl of her clay mortar. Then she lit them on fire.
For a moment she let them burn as the smoke filled the air with the scent of the herbs, then she blew out the flame and left them to smolder and put off their heady aroma. It was a ritual she’d seen her mother and grandmother use each time death came to a house. Her mother said it kept the odor of death at bay.
Her work done, Mercy left Eletta and closed the bedroom door.
She had managed to keep her thoughts on the tasks at hand, but now that she was finished, Mercy could no longer keep back her tears. She didn’t want to wake up Faith with her sobs, so she went to the table and buried her face in her hands.
The events of the last month had taken their toll, and Mercy wept softly for all those they’d lost. She wondered what had happened to Red Deer and the others. So many had been killed, and she knew the Tututni were mourning their losses as well. It was heartbreaking to imagine the death of some of the children she and Adam had taught. How could men be so cruel as to cut down children?
She didn’t notice Adam’s return until he pulled her up and into his arms. Mercy wrapped her arms around him and felt her tears ebb. She buried her face against his coat and let him comfort her. Time seemed to stand still.
“I don’t understand why God has allowed any of this to happen,” Adam whispered against her ear, “but I know He is good, and I trust that He has a plan even in this.”
Mercy nodded and slowly lifted her face. “I can’t believe Eletta is gone. I never thought this would happen. I thought we could save her.”
“I know. I thought so too.”
“Maybe we could have if not for the militia’s attack. I don’t
know how a person could live with themselves after such slaughter.”
“Nor do I.” His expression was angry. “I hate what I’ve seen happen and would gladly avenge those who were killed. It wasn’t right. None of this has been handled honorably.”
“No, it hasn’t, and I can’t help but be more afraid than I’ve ever been before.”
At this, his expression softened. He reached up and laid his hand against her cheek. “Don’t be afraid, Mercy. I’ll take care of you and Faith. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll get you out of here and away from all this madness.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then lowered his lips as if to kiss her. Mercy pushed back against his chest, remembering the last time they’d kissed. She wanted this to happen, but not at the expense of being rejected again.
“As I recall,” she said, “the last time we kissed, you hated it. In fact, you were quite vocal about it never happening again.”
“I never said I hated it.” His husky voice made Mercy tremble. “In fact, I liked it very much. Too much.”
He bent his head again and kissed her with such passion that Mercy could scarcely draw breath.
Chapter
15
On the twenty-second of February, Gold Beach residents held a grand celebration of George Washington’s birthday. There was to be a party and a dance, but given it was just a few days since they had buried Eletta, Mercy didn’t feel like attending. Adam, however, had other ideas.
“I think we should go. There will be other children there, and it would do Faith good to get her mind on something other than losing both parents inside of a month.”
Mercy immediately felt guilty. “Of course. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Adam’s dark-eyed gaze held her with a look that caused Mercy’s breath to catch. Everything was happening so fast, and she could hardly sort through her feelings. They’d said nothing about the kiss the night Eletta died, but Mercy knew Adam had been equally affected by it. She wanted to say something—declare her love or at least talk about the future—but surely it was the man’s place to bring up such things first.
Cherished Mercy Page 15
