“Yell a little louder, most everybody can hear you now,” Molly said. She grabbed a corner of Gennie’s coverlet and pulled it over her shoulders as she, too, plunked down on the bed. “Look, I wasn’t nowhere, OK? I was just walkin’. I like to get out, you know that.”
“I went to the cemetery. You weren’t there,” Gennie said.
“The cemetery? Did you go anywhere else?” Molly sounded startled, but her eyes were dark hollows, unreadable in the dim light.
Gennie thought she saw something else, too. She switched on her bedside light. She was right, one eye was darker than the other. The skin around Molly’s left eye was swollen and red.
“Molly, what happened? Who hurt you?”
“Nobody. It’s none of your business. Leave me alone.” Molly jumped to her feet and flipped off Gennie’s light.
Gennie heard her crawl back into her own bed.
“Are you going to tell me where you were?”
“Ain’t nothin’ to tell,” Molly whispered.
Rose awakened making lists in her head. It was Sunday, a bright and glorious morning, and she had preparations to make, tasks to complete, and many questions to ask. First priority, the worship service. It was now too late to cancel the public portion of the service, so she would take what precautions she could to control the crowds. She had Agatha’s permission to limit the number of people in the Meetinghouse and to keep the small children away from the service.
She tossed off her covers and dressed quickly, then straightened her room with frenzied speed. The bell rang five times, still an hour before Sabbathday breakfast, so she went downstairs to her office to pull the lists from her head and write them down.
By 5:45, she had filled a sheet of paper. She picked up her phone and made an indecently early call to Deputy Grady O’Neal, who clearly had been asleep.
“Uh, Rose?” He responded groggily. “Is anything wrong? Is Gennie all right?”
Rose hesitated. She feared bringing Grady and Gennie together. She could lose Gennie, and that would cause her pain. She wasn’t sure she trusted either Grady or Brock. Neither had a good reason to help the Shakers. She remembered the quickly hidden hatred on Grady’s face when he examined Johann’s body. Her knowledge of Grady was too sketchy. But to trust no police might put Gennie’s life—and the lives of others—in great danger.
“All is well so far, Grady,” she said. “But I do need your help. Are you on duty today?”
“Nope, free as a bird.”
“Good. Then would you come to our worship service this afternoon? It begins at 1:00 P.M., but you might come early. Have a light midday meal with us. And do not wear your uniform.” She preferred that Wilhelm not know that she had taken matters into her own hands.
That task accomplished, Rose glanced at the office clock. Time to gather for breakfast. She threw her cloak over her shoulders and cut across the grass between the Trustees’ Office and the dining room next door. Halfway there, she saw Sheriff Brock walk briskly away from the Children’s Dwelling House. He didn’t see her.
What was he doing near the Children’s House? Should she rush after him and demand to know? The bell tolled. Breakfast was starting, and maybe he hadn’t been at the dwelling house, after all. She let him go.
Rather than line up at the dining room’s west doorway with the other sisters, she went directly to the kitchen door. There would just be time, she thought, to schedule a talk with Elsa for after breakfast. But when she entered the kitchen, she saw only Charity and two young girls, all tearing around the room with trays too full to hold steadily. Rose hung her cloak on a peg and scooped up a tray that was slipping from the grasp of a thirteen-year-old.
“It’s for the brethren’s table,” the girl said, and flew off to fetch another.
Rose carried the steaming bowls of porridge out to the brethren and served them silently. As she did so she scanned the room for Elsa, without success. On her return to the kitchen, she found Charity, her cheeks flushed and oatmeal dribbling down her white neckerchief, filling bowls too quickly and wiping off spills with an apron tied loosely at her waist. Rose found a ladle and began filling bowls from the opposite end of the tray, so that they met in the middle. Only when all the trays were on their way to the dining room did Charity break her concentration. She sagged into a ladder-back chair constructed for a much larger person, so that she looked childlike and overwhelmed.
“It was kind of you to help us,” she said. “The girls are too small for such heavy work.” She looked as though she were also too slight for such work, but Rose had been impressed by the ease with which she had whisked the laden trays into the dining room. The Shaker life builds strong young women, Rose thought with pride.
“Is Elsa ill this morning?” Rose asked. Normally Elsa, with her strong country arms, would have carried the heavier items.
“Nay,” Charity said with a sniff. “Elsa was excused from work to pray alone. Excused, when there is work to be done! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“But surely Agatha did not excuse her,” Rose said. “I spoke with her only last night, and she said nothing about it.”
“Not Agatha. Wilhelm. He said that the eldress would agree.”
“Would agree,” Rose said. “So in fact he did not ask her.” Rose frowned. For Elder Wilhelm to have usurped the eldress’s authority with the sisters was serious indeed. The reason must be profoundly important to Wilhelm, and it involved Elsa. Rose added another item to her mental list. She would talk to Agatha, try to get her to confront Wilhelm. She would have to speak with the eldress soon, so that the meeting could occur during the midday meal in the Ministry dining room, when Agatha and Wilhelm would be alone.
“I’ll send Gennie and Molly to help you prepare for the midday meal,” she said to Charity.
Charity gave a tired smile for thanks and dragged herself from her chair as the remains of breakfast arrived.
Rose turned to leave, then paused. “Charity, do you know where and why Elsa has gone to pray?”
“Nay,” Charity said. “Nor do I care. It will take more than a morning of prayer to make her a true Believer.”
Eldress Agatha looked ill. Her pallid skin seemed to be melting away, molding itself more each day to the shapes of the frail bones underneath. A hand tremor shook the cup of tea she raised slowly to her lips.
“Do have some of my tea, Rose,” she said, in a voice that seemed stronger than her body. “Josie said it was ‘strengthening.’ And she did mention that you were looking less vigorous than usual, yourself.” She smiled thinly, but it was enough to soften her gaunt face.
Rose put her hand over the one that twitched in Agatha’s lap.
“Is tea all you’ve had today? You must try to eat. Josie’s tonics are miraculous, but food is more strengthening. Let me fetch you some oatmeal from the kitchen.”
“Nonsense, Rose, but don’t worry so about me. I no longer work in the fields, I can afford to miss a meal now and then.” She withdrew her hand and patted Rose’s. “Now,” she continued, “tell me why you’ve come to see me again so soon.”
Rose sighed inwardly. Her plan would never work. Agatha was too ill to confront Wilhelm, and no one else had the authority to do it in her stead. For a moment, Rose, too, felt her strength ebb away. She was losing her mentor, her guardian, her dear, dear friend. Agatha had always been there, calm and quietly powerful, a gentle force.
“It’s nothing,” Rose said. “I only wanted to see how you are.”
Those sunken eyes bored through Rose. “Even during the worst of times,” Agatha said sternly, “you never felt it necessary to lie to me. I do not fear death, I welcome it. But not just yet. In the meantime, I expect you to treat me as you always have, with honesty.”
Rose smiled. “You have made yourself abundantly clear, my friend,” she said. And she told Agatha what she had learned about the killing of Johann Fredericks, the reactions of the suspects, and Wilhelm’s control over Elsa.
“Well,”
said Agatha, when Rose had finished. “I see that we have some work to do. I will speak to Wilhelm during lunch, and you must join us.”
“He will interpret my presence as favoritism on your part.”
“Perhaps.”
“It will only make him more determined to send me away.”
“As long as I am alive, you stay here. And after I am gone, I am confident the Lead Ministry will see the wisdom of making you eldress.”
All Rose truly wanted was for everything to stay as it was, herself as trustee, not eldress, not gatherer of new souls. She wanted Agatha always to be there. In her own way, she was as loath to change as Wilhelm.
“Are you sure you feel well enough to confront Wilhelm?”
“My dear,” Agatha said, smiling gently, “what strength I possess comes from God, and it grows as my body weakens. He has always given me what I needed to do what I must. You will find the same to be true when you are eldress. Now,” she said before Rose could respond, “go about your other business. Come collect me at noon. I’ll rest until then.” She leaned back in her rocking chair and closed her eyes. Rose took the teacup from her lap and placed it on the table next to her, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. Her skin felt cool and smooth and comforting.
“Oh, Rose, must I work in the kitchen again? You don’t understand how awful it is, with Charity and Elsa fighting all the time.” It wasn’t like Gennie to pout and whine, but she couldn’t help it. It was just too unfair.
“It’s only for a day, and Elsa won’t be there,” Rose said with more sternness than she normally used with Gennie. “And Molly will be with you. Where is Molly, by the way?”
“Um, well, she missed breakfast today. It is Sunday, you know, and we weren’t supposed to have to work, and anyway Molly says she doesn’t need breakfast.” She didn’t mention that her roommate still slept, exhausted and nursing a swollen eye. She also hadn’t told Rose about Molly’s stock of beauty items or about her own midnight adventure in the old cemetery. She ought to tell, but Molly made her promise. She said she’d use makeup to cover the bruises and everything would be fine.
“Everyone needs breakfast,” Rose said. “And we often have to work on Sunday, young lady, so I don’t want to hear any more complaining.”
Gennie sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s only that I dislike the kitchen, and I always seem to end up there.”
“You will be in the Herb House by this time tomorrow!” Rose laughed and hugged Gennie’s drooping shoulders. “Maybe I do call on you to help out more than some of the other girls. But it’s because I know I can count on you.”
Gennie flushed with pleasure, mixed with guilt.
“Run and get that lazy Molly out of bed now,” Rose said. “If you work fast, you may both take a break to go to the public worship service, though you will have to slip out early to help Charity prepare the evening meal.” She smiled and gave Gennie an affectionate push.
Gennie returned the smile with a feeble one of her own and headed for the Children’s Dwelling House, her mind in turmoil. Protecting Molly grew less simple and more costly with each new episode.
“Why does she have to get into so much trouble?” Gennie grumbled to herself.
She stomped up the staircase and burst open the door without knocking, ready to rip the covers off her sleeping roommate. Since all other residents of the house would be at morning worship, she tossed the door shut behind her and enjoyed the bang it made.
The room was empty. Her roommate’s bed, where Molly had mumbled that she planned to stay until noon, was neatly made and empty. Her cloak no longer hung on its peg.
“She’s gone off again!” Gennie said aloud. “Well, I’m not going to look for her, not this time. She can just get into trouble.” She turned to leave, then hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. She craned her head around to Molly’s bed. It looked as it had the day before, no lumpier, but Gennie ached to take one more peek under the mattress.
Within seconds she had raced to Molly’s bed and yanked up the mattress. What she saw brought her to her knees with excitement. Two items had joined the others: a shiny, gold, face-powder compact and an envelope, smudged with dirty stains. Ignoring the compact, she picked up the envelope and turned it over. The gum seal had been broken. With a shaking finger, Gennie lifted the flap and peeked inside. Shaker children had little need for money, but she certainly recognized it when she saw it. A thick wad of it. She pulled the bills out of the envelope and flipped through them. It was all in ones and fives, and there must have been at least $100. She fanned the crisp bills out in her hand, awed by the feel of them. Where would a seventeen-year-old Shaker girl get such a fortune? When a boy or girl decided to leave the Society, the Believers often gave them some money to help them get started, but Molly was still too young for that.
Too late, Gennie heard the door click. She looked over her handful of bills to see Molly framed in the doorway.
“You! You’re the one been messin’ with my stuff!” She slammed the door behind her.
Gennie lost her balance and slid to the floor, loosening her grip on the money. A clump of green bills fluttered around her, and Molly skidded to her knees to scoop them up.
“Gimme those,” she said, and grabbed the batch still clutched in Gennie’s hand. Dragging her hand between her mattress and the pad underneath, Molly raked out all her shiny prizes and shoved them, along with the money, into the pockets of her dress.
Gennie jumped to her feet and stood over Molly.
“Where did you get that money? You’d better tell me, I mean it.”
“You can’t have it, it’s mine, and I’m gonna hide it where you ain’t never gonna find it. You’re supposed to be my friend!”
“I am your friend, and I don’t want any of that money,” Gennie said with exasperation. “I just want to know what you’ve gotten yourself into. This isn’t right. It isn’t right for you to have all these things. And all that money! That’s where you were last night, isn’t it? You were meeting someone who gave you that money. Is that the person who hit you? What’s going on?”
“Everyone’s against me, even you! I thought you was different, but you’re just like all of them. You don’t know what it’s like to really want things, to want things so bad you dream about them at night, and you feel like you’d do anything for someone who’d get them for you.” Molly’s dusky eyes flashed with the intensity of her desire and with something more, maybe fear. Her hands clutched at the deep pockets of her work dress, which held the treasures worth so much to her.
“Molly, you’re in trouble, aren’t you? Let us help you. Rose can. Come on, let’s go talk to her.” Gennie reached out her hand and touched Molly’s sleeve.
Molly yanked her arm back. “You just want my stuff. You and Rose and all of you can just mind your own business.” She whirled around and grabbed her heavy cloak off a wall peg. Throwing it around her shoulders, she flew out the door.
“Wait! Molly, please wait!” Gennie raced after her, but Molly’s long legs hurtled her down the stairs as fast as they could, her cloak billowing around her. She did not look back. By the time Gennie ran out the front door, she saw Molly round the corner of the building and head toward the Water House.
Charity had the kitchen barely under control when Gennie arrived. The kitchen deaconess had chosen a simple menu of soup and bread, and two young girls flew back and forth through the connecting door to the dining room, carrying crockery and napkins. Judging by the small stature of the girls, Gennie knew she would be carrying the soup tureens. She would have sore arms again by evening. Why did she have to do all the work around here? She tore off her cloak and flung it carelessly on a peg.
“Where’s Molly?” Charity asked, looking up from her soup kettle.
Gennie shrugged. If she didn’t actually say anything, maybe a shrug wouldn’t count as a lie. She walked over and smelled the soup, a spicy cream of squash.
“Taste it for me,” Charity said, handing Gennie a spoon.
“I can’t seem to taste much these days. Honestly, I don’t know what is happening to us lately. Where can Molly be?”
Gennie chose that moment to sip. “More ginger,” she said.
“How can I be expected to run the kitchen without adequate help?” Charity complained, reaching for the ginger jar. “Well, I will, that’s all. I don’t need Elsa.”
“What can I do?” Gennie asked.
“Oh, have the girls finished setting the tables? Well, it doesn’t matter. Just set up the tureens on the table, then we’ll—oh my, is that the brethren arriving? Quickly, carry out the bread. They’ll have to cut it themselves. Nay, first move the tureens over here, then deliver the bread.”
Gennie arranged the tureens, then grabbed two plates holding loaves of heavy, dark bread and pushed through the door to the dining room, as the sisters and brethren filed silently through their separate doors and seated themselves on benches on opposite sides of the room. On her third trip out, she clattered a plate in front of a young man with straight brown hair, wearing a blue flannel shirt. She steadied the plate, whispering an apology, and looked into the smiling, blue eyes of Grady O’Neal.
“I see no reason why a trustee should be here,” Wilhelm said, without looking at Rose. “This is the Ministry dining room. If we must hold a business meeting, we can do so at the Trustees’ Office.”
“I require her presence, Wilhelm,” Eldress Agatha said.
The three Believers grew silent as a young sister brought in a tureen of soup. She placed it near Rose, who filled Agatha’s bowl and then her own. Rose watched as Wilhelm ladled the steamy, orange liquid into his bowl. He sat directly across from Agatha at the new trestle table which Albert Preston had created for the two of them. The table was long enough for several additional diners, in case the Society should grow again and have need of a larger Ministry for several separate Shaker families, or groups of Believers living together.
Death of a Winter Shaker Page 12
