by B. J. Hoff
“Samuel—” She hoped to stop him before he could start.
“No. Let me speak, Rachel. You must know I…have strong feelings for you, have had these feelings for a long time. I continue to hope that eventually you might return those feelings. In any case I think it’s fair to say that we are good friends and good companions. Surely you know me well enough by now to believe that I would make you a good husband. And I believe I know you well enough to know you don’t really enjoy being alone.”
Again Rachel tried to protest. And again he stopped her.
“Wait. We both know that many couples marry without a strong romantic love on both sides. Sometimes they marry as friends and the love comes later, after they’re together for a time. I believe that could be the way for us too, Rachel, if you would just allow yourself to try. We are friends, are we not?”
“Of course we are, Samuel, but—”
“And you do care for me on some level, do you not?”
“I care for you,” Rachel said, choosing her words with caution, “but not the way you want me to. Samuel, you mean much to me as an old and dear friend but only in that way. I thought I’d made this clear to you before.”
He seemed not to hear her words or, at least, dismissed them. “Many good marriages begin between good friends, Rachel. Right here among the People, it’s a common thing. Not so unusual at all.”
He was right, of course. Rachel knew more than one couple who had married for reasons that had more to do with friendship and companionship than romantic love. But it could never be that way for her. Not after the love she had shared with Eli. She could never live as husband and wife with a man she didn’t love.
Clearly, though, Samuel had no intention of giving up. “Rachel, it’s because we are good friends that I believe a marriage between us would work. I—need you, Rachel. I need a mother for my three sons, and I’ve seen how you are with Fannie. My boys love you and would welcome you into our home. You would be a wonderful mother. And, Rachel, I’m not an old man. Thirty-eight is all. We could have more children, babies. We’d be happy together, good for each other.” He stopped but only for an instant. “I—have much affection for you, Rachel. And I believe your feelings for me would deepen in time. Can’t you trust me to know what’s best for you?”
It was all too much. It had to end. Rachel stood, moved behind her chair, and placed both hands on the back of it. “Samuel, even I don’t know what’s best for me. I don’t think we can assume that you do. Please, don’t let’s have this discussion again. I’ve told you how I feel. I’m not comfortable with our talking together like this. I want to keep our friendship as it’s always been, but to do that, you must accept the fact that there’s never going to be anything else between us.”
“There could be, if you would allow it,” he said, his tone stern. “Rachel, Rachel—you can be so stubborn…”
“This has nothing to do with my being stubborn!” Rachel blurted out, exasperated with him. “If anyone is being headstrong, it’s you. Samuel, why can’t you understand? I can’t force myself to feel something that isn’t there. You have to accept this.”
He stood, suddenly seeming taller and thinner than usual. His eyes were hard, his mouth tight. “It’s that man, Gant, isn’t it? His worldliness has distracted you. He’s enticed you with his outsider ways. I warned you he would be trouble, Rachel. He’s even turned you away from your friends.”
“Gant turned me away from nothing, Samuel! And besides, he’s gone now. Why must you keep bringing him up?”
He uttered a low sound of frustration. “He’s not gone, not really. I don’t understand Dr. Sebastian opening his house to him and giving him a place to stay nearby.”
Rachel studied him, puzzled at what appeared to be a meanspiritedness she had never seen in him before. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. He needs to stay close by until he’s completely healed and until his friend Asa returns. Then he’ll leave. Why does he bother you so, when you don’t even know him?”
“Because I don’t know him, that’s why! And neither do you. The man is an outsider, Rachel. He doesn’t belong here. If you have no caution for yourself, I’d think you would at least be concerned for your mother’s and Fannie’s welfare.”
By now Rachel was fighting to keep her patience from snapping altogether. “Gant is no threat to anyone. Not to Mamma or myself, and certainly not to Fannie. To the contrary, they get on very well together.”
“Because he’s playing up to you, can’t you see that?” He thumped his hand on the table so hard Rachel jerked.
She tightened her grip on the back of the chair, struggling to keep her self-control. This was wrong, so wrong. His being upset as he was, the way she was speaking to him, the way she was feeling toward him. He was her friend, her deacon. A man she’d known most of her life and trusted for as long. It was a bitter thing, a bad thing, to be angry with someone who was such an important part of her life.
She was also angry with herself, for her reluctance to admit that Samuel might be right about one thing. She wasn’t so certain but what Gant hadn’t distracted her. If truth be told, even in the short time he’d stayed here, she had felt a reluctant attraction for him, almost a fascination for him. He flustered her with his crooked smile, his roguish mustache, his piercing stare that of late seemed to soften when it rested on her, his rhythmic Irish words—even the way he said her name.
It shamed her that the first man who had sparked any feeling at all in her since Eli’s death was an outsider, a forbidden stranger. Why indeed, couldn’t it be Samuel who drew such attention from her?
The silence between them gave way as Samuel said, “I’ll go now, Rachel. I see that you’re not ready to talk more in depth about us just yet. I’m a patient man, you know. I’ll wait.”
She looked at him, trying to hide her relief that, at least for the time being, he wasn’t going to continue pleading his case.
Although “pleading” was never the right word to use when Samuel meant to persuade.
He retrieved his coat and hat from the wall hook before she could get them for him. Just before he opened the door, he turned, and said, “Will you at least think about these things, Rachel?”
Rachel followed him to the door but kept a discreet distance. She didn’t quite know how to answer him. No doubt she would think about what he’d said because his words and attitude troubled her deeply—in part because she wished she could respond to him as he so obviously wanted her to. “Yes, Samuel, I’ll…think about these things.”
His smile was faint and fleeting, but at least he didn’t seem so agitated as before.
“It will all work out in God’s will and in His time, Rachel. You’ll see.”
After he left Rachel pressed her back against the door and breathed deeply from relief and weariness. She found herself praying that God would work things out, that He would bring Samuel the love he wanted and seemed so desperately to need…but would never find with her.
20
ASA
I looked for Him in holy halls,
In great cathedrals fair,
But in a child’s bright eyes of hope,
I looked and found Him there.
ANONYMOUS
After leaving Mt. Ephraim, which according to the captain’s map was the last big hill on their trip for quite a distance, the journey became less grueling. The weather was decent, and they were finally making good time. They passed through Barnesville, where a Quaker family sheltered them for two days and nights, fed them well, and replenished their food supply with enough to last them for several days on the road.
Before they reached Freeport, however, they ran into a hard storm of rain and sleet, with a sky that threatened snow before morning. The wagon skidded and bumped all over the place because of the mud slicks and ruts in the road. Asa shivered under the blanket wrapped around him, while the icy rain pelted the canvas of the wagon with a vengeance. He knew the women and children in back were probabl
y miserable, but they still had a ways to go yet before reaching any hope of shelter.
There couldn’t have been a worse time to hear the announcement Dinah brought as she crawled forward and parted the canvas flap between them.
“We got to stop.”
Asa called over his shoulder to her, “We can’t stop now, woman. There’s no sign of town yet and no place to pull off. ” Beside him, Mac chuffed as if to agree.
“Town or no town,” she said, clutching his sleeve, “Mattie is going to have this baby. We got to stop, I tell you!”
“The baby’s coming?” He again shot his words over his shoulder, trying at the same time to watch the road. “Are you sure?”
“Sure as can be. You need to find us a place to stop now.”
“But there is no place. We should be close to Freeport—we are close—our next station is just this side of the town. We’ll have to wait until we get there.”
“How much longer will that be?”
“I’m not sure, but according to the map, we’re almost there.”
“Well, Mister—” she stopped. “You got a last name?”
He shook his head. “Just Asa.”
“Well, Asa—this baby don’t care nothing about your map. I’ll do what I can, but you need to find us a place and find it right soon.”
And with that, she crawled back under the canvas. Mac gave a short bark, as if to add his own sense of urgency.
When another half hour passed with still no sight of Freeport, desperation gripped Asa. The groans and cries coming from the back of the wagon told him that Dinah hadn’t exaggerated. Mattie’s baby was meaning to be born.
“Lord, Lord, what a bitter night for a new little life to arrive. Surely You don’t want a helpless baby to be born in the middle of nowhere, without so much as a roof over its head. And in such a storm, Lord…”
Mac put a heavy paw on Asa’s arm. That dog was something. He even seemed to understand when his people needed reassurance.
Asa continued to search ahead and look around, from one side of the road to another, as he went on praying.
“Come to think of it, Lord, You didn’t have it any better the night You were born, did You? You didn’t have a roof over Your head either, and that stable was most likely in a nowhere kind of place. But at least it was dry, wasn’t it? Our situation being what it is, we really need to find a place soon. Real soon. Those poor folks in the back of the wagon have already been through a lot. Why, that young girl who’s about to give birth is hardly more than a child herself, and here she is, without any help in sight, and myself without a single thought of what to do. I need You to show me where to go so she can have this baby in a safe place. And, the thing is, I need You to show me now…”
Ahead of him, the road gradually took on a wideness, and as the wagon rounded a curve, he caught sight of a faint light set back maybe thirty or forty feet from the road. A narrow dirt lane branched off the main road, and Asa slowed to a near stop. He could see other lights in the distance now, only a few, but enough to indicate a town ahead.
Mac watched him as he studied the house, which looked to be small and surrounded by a primly painted fence and a large area of lawn. It didn’t appear to be a farm, but simply a residence.
A residence at the edge of a town.
That town would be Freeport. And that light in the window would be a candle. And off to the side, thoroughly soaked by the rain and sleet, hung a quilt.
He hesitated only a moment more before turning off the main road and onto the lane leading up to the house.
“The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble…Blessed be the Lord…
The woman, holding a lantern, opened the door only a crack to peek out. She was small and elderly, with white hair and a white nightcap on her head. Frail was the first word that came into Asa’s mind.
“Missus? I’m Asa, a friend of friends. We need help.”
She raised the lantern a little higher and studied him and then looked past him to the wagon.
“You are Mrs. Scott?” said Asa, praying she was.
After a long moment, she nodded. “I am Mary Scott. Bring your people around back,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Quickly.”
Asa left the others in the wagon while he spoke with her at the back door, explaining he had a woman in the family way about to give birth. “If you have a barn or a tool shed, we’ll make do. I’ll carry water and fetch whatever they need. We’ll not put you to any trouble.”
She looked fragile enough to break in two if she were to move suddenly. “You will bring your passengers inside. A woman about to deliver a baby needs a warm bed, and I have plenty of room.”
Greatly relieved, Asa nodded. “Your kindness is much appreciated, missus. But—we have a dog too.”
“A dog?”
As if he knew he was being discussed, Mac barked from his place on the wagon bench. “Well, all right,” she said, the reluctance in her tone all too evident.” He needs to stay quiet, though. I suppose he can stay in the wash house for now. Folks around here know I don’t have a dog. But we need to hurry and get you hid. We’ve had a slave hunter in the area for two days, and there are some who are amenable to him.”
Asa hesitated. “If you’re alone, Mrs. Scott, I don’t want to bring any trouble to you. We’ll move on if you’d rather.”
“You will not,” she said sharply. “Bring your people inside now. And then hide your wagon in the copse of trees behind the well in back.”
Her tone left no room for argument. Besides, they did need her help and needed it badly. What choice did he have? Asa hurried the women indoors, he and Dinah supporting Mattie, with the children following behind them.
Mary Scott led them down a hallway, the lantern she carried their only light, to a flight of steps leading off the kitchen. The room below the house looked as if at one time it might have been a man’s workshop. A neat row of hand tools hung above a long table flanking the right wall, but on the other side of the room was a full-size bed and a large rocking chair.
As they started across the room, Mattie cried out, grabbing her abdomen. Mrs. Scott took Asa’s place at her side, murmuring as she might have to a small child. “You poor dear. You must be terribly uncomfortable. We’ll get you to bed right away.”
She took another lantern from the wall, lighted it, and hung it from a hook near the bed. With little more than a glance at Asa, she said, “Are you the father to these girls?”
He gave a vigorous shake of his head. “No, missus. I’m just a conductor.”
“Well, you help the little mother onto the bed—I keep it fresh and clean for new visitors—and then take those children up to the kitchen,” she instructed him. “You’ll find some bread and jam on the sideboard and a sugar cream pie. Help yourself and feed the children.”
She looked at Dinah. “Are you this girl’s mother?”
“Yes’m, I am. That there’s Mattie. And I’m Dinah.”
“Well, Dinah, you help me get your daughter settled in bed. From the looks of her, you’ll have to wait a spell for your supper. Right now we need to get things ready for the baby. Are the little girls yours as well?”
“The oldest two are. The youngest is Mattie’s child.”
“My. And she looks so young.”
“She’s seventeen.” Dinah’s tone held a trace of bitterness.
As Asa lifted Mattie onto the bed, Mary Scott studied the girl, her face lined with kindness. Then she turned to Asa. “You go on now,” she told him. “This is no place for a man. You go take care of those children.”
Feeling awkward at the position he’d been thrust into—he knew next to nothing about children—Asa herded the little girls upstairs and down the hall in search of the kitchen, the older two clinging to his hands while the little one clutched at his pants legs.
He reckoned Mrs. Mary Scott to be a fine woman with a big heart, but he thought she might also have a sharp tongue on her if folks didn’t d
o as she said. In any event, the woman was obviously not nearly as frail as she looked.
Nearly an hour later, Asa had settled Mac in the wash house and hid the wagon where Mrs. Clark had said. The children had eaten their fill and quizzed him to the point of distraction about everything from having babies to what kind of shoes horses wore.
Mrs. Scott came to the kitchen just then, long enough to order the girls upstairs and to bed.
At first Asa attempted to protest. “These children are none too clean, Mrs. Scott. We’ve been on the road for a long time, in the dust and mud and rain. You don’t want them mussing up your nice things.”
“Then clean them up,” she said shortly. “Just wash their faces and hands and have them take off their shoes. That will have to do for tonight. They’re clearly exhausted. You’ll find towels and washcloths in the upstairs closet at the end of the hall. Put them in the room right across from that closet. Go on now, so they can have a good rest. Dinah and I will see to things down here. We’ll do just fine by Mattie.”
Asa had no doubt about that. He had a sense that Mrs. Mary Scott could take care of just about anything.
As it turned out the two older girls pretty much took care of themselves and the youngest one—Lucy—as well. Mostly, all Asa had to do was listen to their prayers.
“Mamma says don’t never go to sleep till we thank Jesus for our blessings and say a prayer for one another,” Sissy told him. “Tonight we’ll thank Jesus for you, Mr. Asa. And for Mrs. Scott too. I think she’s one of the Lord’s holy angels, just like you.”
“Child, I’m no angel,” Asa said, dismayed that this little one would even think of him as such. “But I surely would covet your prayers for me, all the same.”
After taking some food out to the wash house for Mac—with Mrs. Scott’s permission of course—Asa had gone back to the kitchen. He was dozing in a chair by the stove when he heard a loud shriek, followed by an infant’s thin wail. He jumped up and went to the top of the steps to listen.
