The Believer

THE

BELIEVER

Other books by Ann H. Gabhart

The Scent of Lilacs

Orchard of Hope

Summer of Joy

The Outsider

THE

BELIEVER

A NOVEL

ANN H. GABHART

To my sisters both by birth and by marriageJane, Rosalie, Dallas, Patricia, Kathy, and Diane. Also, in loving memory of joy, who died much too soon but whose laugh will never fade from my memory. Sisters make the very best friends.

A NOTE ABOUT THE SHAKERS

American Shakerism originated in England in the eighteenth century. Their leader, a charismatic woman named Ann Lee, was believed by her followers to be the second coming of Christ in female form. After being persecuted for these beliefs in England, she and a small band of followers came to America in 1774 to settle in Watervliet, New York and there established the first community of the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing, more commonly known as Shakers.

When religious fervor swept the Western frontier at the turn of the nineteenth century, the Shakers, whose communities in New England were flourishing, found the spiritual atmosphere in Kentucky perfect for expanding their religion to the west. By the 1830s the Shakers had nineteen communities spread throughout the New England states and Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana.

The Shaker doctrines of celibacy, communal living, and the belief that perfection could be attained in this life were all based on the revelations that Mother Ann claimed to have divinely received. The name Shakers came from the way they worshiped. At times when a member received the "spirit," he or she would begin shaking all over. These sorts of "gifts of the spirit;' along with other spiritual manifestations such as visions, were considered by the Shakers to be confirmation of the same direct communication with God they believed their Mother Ann had experienced.

Since the Shakers believed work was part of worship and that God dwelt in the details of that work, they devoted themselves to doing everything-whether farming or making furniture and brooms or developing better seeds-to honor the Eternal Father and Mother Ann. Shaker communities thrived until after the Civil War, when few recruits were willing to accept the strict, celibate life of the Shakers, and the sect gradually died out.

In Kentucky, the Shaker villages of Pleasant Hill and South Union have been restored and attract many visitors curious about the Shaker lifestyle. These historical sites provide a unique look at the austere beauty of the Shakers' craftsmanship. The sect's songs and strange worship echo in the impressive architecture of their buildings. Visitors also learn about the Shakers' innovative ideas in agriculture and industry that improved life not only in their own communities but also in the "world" they were so determined to shut away.

Ethan Boyd didn't like loud voices. Bad things happened when there were loud voices. Now Preacher Joe and the man with whiskers were yelling at one another. Ethan wanted to run outside and crawl up under the porch to hide with one of Preacher Joe's hunting hounds. The one Preacher Joe said was afraid of firearms. The one Preacher Joe said wasn't worth the powder it would take to shoot him. The one that liked to lay his head in Mama Joe's lap when she sat on the porch. She said Birdie was her dog and it didn't matter whether he could hunt or not.

Mama Joe took in strays. That's why Ethan was sleeping on the cornhusk mattress on the little bed in the room off the kitchen. Orphans and strays.

But then this man with his gray-streaked black whiskers was saying Ethan wasn't an orphan or a stray. That he belonged to him. Ethan scrunched as far back in the chair at the table as he could and held so tight to the bottom that the cane cut into his fingers. He darted his eyes to the man and then away to stare down at the table.

The table was made out of two broad planks, worn smooth by years of use and Mama Joe's polishing. Mama Joe liked to polish things. Even Ethan. She was forever rubbing the dirt off his face with the corner of her apron. Ethan's eyes found the circle that was part of what Preacher Joe said was the grain of the wood. It looked like a little head with arms reaching away from it. Mama Joe had let Ethan poke two little holes for eyes in the circle, even though normally she'd wear him out for making holes in any of her furniture.

When Ethan told her the circle was his face, she smiled and ran her hand over it softly the way she sometimes stroked his hair. Then she traced the little bit of lighter wood that surrounded the circle like a halo. "See that;" she said. "That's the good Lord's love wrapping around you. Remember that, Ethan, no matter what else might happen, his love is always there. You can count on that"

"But will you always love me too, Mama Joe?" Ethan kept his eyes on her finger tracing the circle in the wood. He was afraid to look in her face. Afraid her answer might not be yes.

She reached over, put her hand under his chin, and raised his face up to look at her. "Yes, my little child" She smiled, and the deep wrinkles around her faded blue eyes softened. She dropped her work-roughened hand down to lay it flat against his chest over his beating heart. "My love will always be right there in your heart" She took his hand with her other hand and placed it over her heart. `And your love will always be right here in my heart. That's the way love is. It stays:'

Then she picked up the knife she'd been using to peel potatoes for their supper and carved a small heart inside a bigger heart right in the middle of her table below the circle. After she dusted away the wood shavings from the hearts, Ethan put his hand over them. He felt warm all over. And safe.

Now as the two men's voices got even louder, Ethan stared at the circle with the two points for eyes and the hearts below it. Mama Joe wasn't there. She'd gone to help one of the churchwomen who was sick. She did that a lot. Ethan didn't mind. Preacher Joe told him funny bedtime stories, and Mama Joe was most always back in time to cook them breakfast.

All of a sudden the whiskered man slammed his fist down on the table right on top of the hearts. Ethan was sure the wood would splinter and break under the force of his anger, but it stayed strong. Ethan felt his own heart beating in his ears.