The Believer (28 page)

The exertion of the night before had pushed some pus and much blood out of the wound, and Ethan wanted to think it looked better as he poured the burning potion on it. His prayer song whispered through his head again as Brother Issachar bore the treatment stoically. Come down Shaker-like. Come down healing. After he applied the new bandage, he folded up the old one to discard it. Its odor was foul.

"Have we anything left to eat in our pack?" Brother Issachar asked.

"Yea, Mrs. Davey was generous. We have bread and apples and cheese. And some of our sisters' apple butter."

"Bring us bread spread with the apple butter, and you can tell me what has put the dark frown in your eyes while we eat'

Brother Issachar broke tiny pieces off the bread to hold in his mouth long moments before he swallowed. He had hardly eaten two decent-size bites when he handed the bread to Ethan. "I will have more appetite when I have the sisters' good cooking. Sister Mable's sweet biscuits could entice anyone to eat'

"Yea,' Ethan agreed with a forced smile to hide his worry.

"Tell me what happened in the night:" Brother Issachar fastened his eyes on Ethan. "Did I fight against your care?"

"I worried not about that, other than hoping you wouldn't injure yourself more. You were out of your head' Ethan looked down at the remainder of the bread spread with apple butter in his hand. He had little appetite himself, but he made himself take a bite and chew. A Shaker did not waste food.

"Out of my head. I pray I said no hurtful or angry words to you:"

"Nay, you knew not that I was there. You called out for Eva" Ethan hesitated before he went on. "That was the name of the wife you had before you became a Believer, wasn't it?"

"So it was. Ah, Eva:" Brother Issachar leaned back and rested his head on the pillow Ethan had carried from their cabin. The pillowcase was ripped and stained brown from much use. A Shaker pillow would never be so ill kempt.

Brother Issachar was quiet for a long moment before he went on. He kept his eyes closed. "I wondered why she was walking through my thoughts this day." Again he was silent for a time before he opened his eyes and stared out beyond Ethan at something only he could see. "She was so beautiful. Even now I can bring her before my eyes just as she looked the day we made a sacred promise to love each other till death parted us. It was an easy promise to make. And to keep. But I never thought death would take her from me so soon. Or that my love would live on for her so long after she was gone:'

His eyes came back to Ethan's face. "I suppose that's not a very Shaker-like thing to say. But I have never denied my love for Eva. I told the elders of it when I came into the Society. They said I would come to love Mother Ann more once I gave my spirit over to them, but it's not Mother Ann who walks through my thoughts. It is Eva'

"How did she die?" Ethan asked.

"Trying to birth me a son. The doctor who came said the babe was turned wrong, that there was no way she could have ever birthed him. He tore him from her, but it was too late to save either of them. We buried them together."

"I'm sorry;" Ethan said.

"You are the first Believer to ever say that to me" Brother Issachar smiled faintly and looked away from Ethan toward the shoreline. "Others-the elders who knew my past-have always said it was God's way of pointing me toward my true purpose of life as a Believer. That the death of my wife and child was a sign to me, just as the deaths of Mother Ann's four babies were a sign to her of a greater mission for her life. I know not whether it was true for Mother Ann. The number of Believers seems to prove the truth of it for her. But I have never believed it true for me. My God is not such a God"

Brother Issachar's eyes settled on Ethan once more. "He didn't take her from me for any such a purpose. She simply died as many women do in childbirth. But I do believe he led me to the Shakers, for he knew I couldn't bear my life in the world without her. The Believers accepted me even though I never became the sort of brother they hoped I would be. I've had a good life among the Shakers, but if my Eva had lived, I would not be at Harmony Hill:'

"Your love for her sounds strong"

"There is no earthly love stronger than that love between a man and a woman"

I will never know that sort of love' Ethan was surprised to feel a wistful sadness at the words. He was a Believer. He had no need of the kind of sinful love those of the world sought. He only needed his love for his brethren and sisters and the Lord and Mother Ann. He had no reason to think of the one named Elizabeth, but she came to his mind unbidden.

"Such love is forbidden to a Believer" Brother Issachar's look sharpened on Ethan as if he were reading his guilty thoughts. "But sometimes forbidden things seek us out and cause us much anguish:"

Ethan pushed aside thoughts of Elizabeth. Didn't he have enough wrongs to worry about without letting his mind run after another? Besides, he knew nothing of how one came to fall into this love for a woman. It surely took more than the sight of a comely face or the touch of a hand. For a moment he considered asking Brother Issachar how such love came to be, but then he clamped down on his wonderings. Thinking on things that had no place in a Believer's life had already caused them much trouble.

He confessed as much now to Brother Issachar. "Yea, just as I let my wrong curiosity about my worldly father lead me into sin. Sin that's causing you much anguish:"

"Do not blame yourself, my brother. You weren't the one who thrust the knife into my side. We have a plentitude of sins of our own without shouldering those of others' Brother Issachar shifted in his chair a bit and was unable to bite back a groan.

"Would you like me to mix some of the powders the doctor sent with us? It seemed to ease your pain last night." Ethan half rose out of his chair to go fetch the powders.

"Nay. The pain isn't more than I can bear. We will save the powders for the darker hours" Brother Issachar waved him back down, then pointed toward the riverbank as he said, "I know that barn. We're halfway home. Pray that there will be no ice on the river ahead:"

Two days after they received word of Brother Issachar's injury in New Orleans, the third fire was discovered during the time for rest and meditation following the evening meal. Again no alarm was sounded. It was a small fire much like a child might set. Or so Sister Ruth told Elizabeth the next morning after the rising bell sounded and Elizabeth was leaving the Gathering Family house to go work with Sister Lettie until the breakfast hour. Each Shaker sister or brother began his or her workday the same time as those sisters who had the duty of preparing the morning meal or the brethren who milked the cows. All worked equal hours.

Elizabeth didn't mind. She'd always liked being up at first light to be witness to the sun's rising and to absorb the special peace of the early morning. It was not much different in the Shaker village. Even though she shared a room with nine other sisters, there was little talk among them as they readied themselves for the day. Needless chatter was discouraged by the Ministry. Conversation for merely social purposes was allowed only during the union meetings or by appointment with permission.

So Elizabeth and the others who had come to live among the Shakers slept and dressed and ate in their own small circles of silence broken only by a nod or word of greeting and perhaps some bit of necessary information about the weather outside their window. They didn't speak of the trials they might be enduring, even though at times Elizabeth heard one or the other of them weeping in the night. Sometimes she thought to leave her bed to console the one who cried, but she knew not what words of comfort to offer or whether such words would be against the Shaker rules. So she stayed in her narrow bed and felt coldhearted as she offered up a silent prayer for a sister in distress.

Elizabeth shed no tears of her own. She had wept for her mother. She had wept for her father. Tears hadn't brought them back to her. It was better to push beyond the tears. To find the best road forward. That was what she'd done. Even though she could not seem to bow her will completely to their way, she felt no regret for being under the Shakers' roof. Three times a day she sat at a table laden with food. She had warm clothes and a bed, albeit narrow and lacking in comfort. Best of all they shielded her from Colton Linley although they couldn't keep him from traveling down the road through their village at least once a week. Even in the snow he had come. Sister Melva said he'd spent the night of the snowstorm locked in the tramp room.

When Elizabeth had asked what the tramp room was, Sister Melva explained. "We turn no one away who asks for a place to sleep and a meal. But we can't have unknown men wandering about our village in the night. We must of necessity take precautions to safeguard ourselves. So we lock any such in after the supper hour and unlock the door when we take them breakfast:'

`And Colton Linley allowed that?" Elizabeth was astounded.

"I did not see him, but I heard it was the one who led those men with evil intent into our house some weeks ago. The man who knew you from the world:' Sister Melva's eyebrows drew together in a slight frown as she went on. "He did not give the appearance of a ruffian like the men with him, but from the way you trembled at the sight of him, I'm guessing appearances can be deceiving. It was good he was locked in. He has no proper business here:"

"I fear he seeks sight of me;' Elizabeth said.

"Yea, so it seems. Men of the world are driven by wrong desires" Sister Melva gave her an assessing look. `And you do seem to attract the worldly sort of attention that we are to spurn as Believers. Sister Ruth says that's why Brother Ethan was sent to New Orleans with Brother Issachar. To keep him far from sight of you'

"I have sought no contact with Brother Ethan' Elizabeth wanted to be sure Sister Melva knew that.

"Yea, but sought or not, the two of you seem to have been thrown together in untoward situations that are better avoided. That's why we have separate doors and staircases for the brethren and sisters, you know. To keep away sinful temptations that might awaken within us if we don't stay in our proper places. And while we all have to labor to control our sinful worldly urges, that labor is oft the most difficult for our young brethren"

Elizabeth's cheeks had burned as she lowered her eyes away from Sister Melva's face. She couldn't deny feeling those worldly urges for the young brother, but she had no desire to be a stumbling block in his path as a Believer. When he returned from New Orleans, she would take pains to avoid him as strenuously as she avoided allowing Colton Linley to catch sight of her in the village.

The weather had broken and the days had an early feel of spring to the air. The snow vanished almost overnight, and so the steamboat carrying Ethan and the wounded Issachar was not expected to be delayed in its river journey to Louisville. Two brethren had been dispatched to Louisville with a wagon to await the men. It was said those of the Ministry who lived above the meeting room were praying without ceasing for Issachar, since prayer and deciding rules were their duties. And watching to be sure those rules were followed.

Their many rules seemed tiresome and often foolish to Elizabeth, but nevertheless sometimes after the rising bell had rung and she was out on the walkways in the crisp air with morning falling gently over the Shaker village, Elizabeth thought it might be possible that she could do as the Shakers wanted. She could forget her worldly urges. She might lose the ache within her to one day hold her own baby in her arms. She could learn to be one with these odd people even if she couldn't quite accept every tenet of their belief.

Sister Lettie had assured her only a few days before that the Shakers didn't require one to believe all spiritual things exactly as they did. While they didn't allow disharmony or words of rebellion, they did exercise much patience in allowing each novitiate plentiful time to make up his or her mind about walking the Shaker way. No one was forced to sign the Shakers' Covenant of Belief, and in truth, even if she did want to, she could not do so until after she turned twenty-one in April. However, their kind patience seemed to evaporate when one of their number did choose to go back to the world, and often they were sent on their way with words of condemnation that made Elizabeth cringe.

She heard no such words from Sister Lettie's mouth. Sister Lettie had a kind heart for all, but she did mourn each time a sister or brother fell from the Shaker way. Sister Ruth was not so silent with her opinions of how the departed sisters or brothers were surely on a slippery slope to eternal punishment where they'd cry for relief from their misery but no help could be had. She almost seemed to gloat as she condemned each one. Elizabeth had no problem imagining her saying the same of her. Gladly, with self-satisfied pleasure.

Elizabeth heard that gladness in Sister Ruth's voice when she called out to stop her on the pathway the morning after the small fire. Elizabeth looked longingly at the door of the medicine shop only a few steps away. Sister Ruth was no doubt chasing after her to berate her for some imagined wrong, but whatever it was could surely wait until after the morning meal. And hadn't Sister Ruth herself often told Elizabeth conversation was not allowed on the pathways? Elizabeth kept walking and pretended not to hear Sister Ruth calling to her.