The Gifted (21 page)

Philip simply stared back at the man without speaking. Would a knock on the head make him forget his name and then remember it as something it wasn’t? Such seemed doubtful, but the thought that Philip Rose might be a concocted name didn’t upset Jessamine. In fact, if Sister Edna hadn’t been so close to her that the woman’s breath was almost warming Jessamine’s ear, she would have laughed. She supposed she shouldn’t celebrate falsehood if indeed Philip was merely lying and not delusional because of the wound to his head. Whatever the reason, he had chosen to be someone else. Something Jessamine often considered. That worm into a butterfly. A stranger into a prince.

Perhaps he was as unsure of his identity as she was of hers. But no. The short round man had said Philip had a mother worried about him. Or she supposed it was Tristan who had the mother worried about him. Philip had deserted his identity. And not only his identity but also his family and the beautiful girl who waited for him at White Oak Springs. He had no doubt stood in the White Oak Springs shadows and traced that girl’s lips. Probably had done more than trace them. No bell would have spoiled their moments.

An unknown feeling crawled through Jessamine. She wasn’t exactly angry or sad but something in between. Not a pleasant feeling but rather one that poked her and made her uneasy. She stared at the man she and Sister Annie had rescued in the woods and waited for what he might say next. But it wasn’t his words that were upsetting her peace. It was the thought of that other girl in the shadows with him. That girl would know what a kiss was like.

Tristan stared at the man in front of him and tried to hide his dismay. A liar was always found out. His father had told him that many times. Right before he told him that if a man lied, it should be for a reasonable cause. His father respected the truth—unless telling it might not be useful in obtaining his ends. While Tristan had never known his father to lie outright to him or his mother, he had no doubt the man bent the truth when it suited his purposes. Was that what Tristan had been doing? Bending the truth for his own purposes? But using a false name was more than bending the truth. Now he had been found out in a most public way.

He’d planned to ride away with the good doctor and Sister Lettie none the wiser about his subterfuge. He didn’t like seeing the grim set of Brother Benjamin’s mouth as he waited for Tristan to say something. Tristan didn’t know why it mattered what these odd people thought of him. He’d likely never see any of them again. Even the beautiful Jessamine.

The week among the Shakers had been interesting, but nothing that was going to change his life. He might wish he could raise his hands toward the ceiling and call down something spiritual to embrace as they did, but he couldn’t imagine whirling and marching back and forth with visions of worship. His turns and whirls on a dance floor would be with a partner. His time in churches an expected duty in order to set the proper example for his children. Children he must have to carry on the Cooper name.

A name he might as well admit to there in the midst of the Shakers, but he did not. Instead he looked at the short, round man in front of him and held his hand out toward him. “Mr. Patrick, it’s good to meet you, but I regret to say you must have me confused with another.” What was one more lie even if everyone in hearing distance knew the words he spoke carried no truth. It seemed easier to carry on the farce than to own up to his name.

Lenwood Patrick hesitantly took Tristan’s hand with a look of consternation. Tristan did remember the man from their shared dinner. He was a northerner who talked nonstop of his many triumphs in business. Tristan had paid little attention to his chatter other than being amused at how the man seemed so intent on impressing his mother. Something that bragging of his riches had certainly not done. In Tristan’s mother’s eyes, a man of means had no reason to flaunt those means. Back in her room she had lifted her nose and disdainfully called the man a Yankee. That was the very worst thing his mother could ever say about any man.

Now the man’s grip on Tristan’s hand tightened until Tristan wondered if he was trying to physically pull the truth from him. “I’m not the one confused.”

Tristan stared the Yankee in the eye with not the least sign of recognition and smiled. “I’ve heard it said that every man has a double somewhere. You must have met mine.” He pulled his hand free.

The man peered at Tristan through narrowed eyes that were not much more than slits in his fleshy face. “You can pretend what you want. But we both know who you are. Your mother will be quite relieved to hear that you are safe. And so nearby. Rumors were floating about that perhaps you had headed out to the goldfields in California.”

“You should be careful not to spread rumors on your own,” Tristan said softly. “Good day, Mr. Patrick.” He turned and began walking away with Brother Benjamin matching his every step. The other Shakers also began moving away. Tristan chanced a glance toward Jessamine. What would she think of a liar? She looked a bit mystified, but he saw none of the condemnation on her face that was so evident on the frowning face of the sister beside her.

“Your lovely Laura Cleveland has not been happy,” Patrick called after him. “But there is no shortage of gentlemen ready to step up to help her forget her tears.”

Tristan kept walking. He doubted seriously if Laura had shed one tear over his disappearance unless it was simply as an act to gain sympathy. Tristan almost smiled. Perhaps this escapade of his would be the last straw for Laura and she would throw him over with not a second’s thought. He could hope so at any rate. It would be good to be free of his mother’s expectations. Free to actually chase off after California gold if he wanted. Free to find love.

He let his eyes slide back over to Jessamine. The pinched-faced older sister had a grip on the young woman’s arm that looked tight enough to leave bruises. Yet the young sister was paying her no mind as she stared straight at him. The mystified look was gone, replaced by a worried, almost sad look as if she knew this might be the last time their eyes ever met. He had the incredible feeling that if he held his hand out toward her, she would jerk away from the woman beside her and come to him. His hand tingled with the desire to reach out to her.

He clamped down on the foolish thought. He barely knew the girl. She was beautiful. There was no denying that. Her spirit almost sparkled. Nor could he deny that something about her spoke to him. Had done so since his first sight of her in the woods when he thought he might be dead and looking at an angel. But he couldn’t love her. Not so quickly. Not without more time. Time they didn’t have.

He flexed his hand and kept it at his side. The older sister leaned close to whisper something in Jessamine’s ear that made the girl look down immediately and turn away. Tristan kept walking beside Brother Benjamin, who said not a word until they climbed the stairs and returned to the sickroom.

Then he looked straight at Tristan and said, “The man from the world spoke truth.”

Tristan didn’t shy away from Brother Benjamin’s eyes. “He did. My name is Tristan Cooper. Not Philip Rose.”

Brother Benjamin was silent a moment as he considered Tristan’s words. He looked more disappointed than angry. The silence built until it was nearly as profound as the silence that had fallen over the Shaker worshipers at the end of their meeting. Tristan stood up under the doctor’s searching look even as he fished around for words to beg forgiveness for his lies. But nothing he thought of seemed right to say.

“What was the reason for your lie?” Brother Benjamin finally asked with a perplexed frown. “We cared not what your name might be.”

“I don’t know,” Tristan said.

The doctor’s voice was calm as he said, “I sense that is another lie, my brother. That is the way with lies. One leads to another until truth is lost in the high grass of so many untruths.”

“It’s not entirely a lie.” Tristan let out a long breath. “I honestly didn’t know who I was when the two sisters found me in the woods and then when I found out I was shot, I had no idea why or who might have done that. I feared going back to my other life until I could remember what might have happened in the woods.”

“And have you remembered now?”

“No. That day is lost to me, but other memories are not.” Tristan paused and wondered just how honest to be with the doctor. “I think I was hiding from my future.”

“Is it a future you fear?” Brother Benjamin sounded more kindly with each question.

“I’m not sure fear is the right word, but it is one that I move toward with some reluctance. I thought perhaps a few days in your peaceful village would help me see things more clearly.”

“Sister Lettie supposed you were struggling with some demon. She knew not whether it was something without that threatened you or something within. She has offered many prayers for you.”

Sister Lettie had known he lied all along, but had treated him with great kindness. Had even prayed for him. A lump jumped up in his throat. He swallowed hard and told himself it was foolish to feel tears pushing at his eyes. Sister Lettie probably prayed for everybody she came in contact with. It was what these people did. Danced and shook and prayed.

Brother Benjamin touched Tristan’s shoulder. “While we respect the truth, we don’t condemn those who stumble. With confession, you can come around right and find the peace you lack if you stay here with us.”

Tristan looked at the brother’s face and was tempted. Another week among these kind people. Another week of peace. More chances to see the beautiful Jessamine. But that would be another week of lies and he had lied enough to those who had cared for him without any real reason to do so.

“I have to go back,” he said.

“The world can be a wicked place.” The doctor squeezed Tristan’s shoulder before taking his hand away. “But each man must make his own choices. For right or for wrong.”

Tristan wanted to tell him that was the problem. He wasn’t able to make his own choices. All his life, someone else had been choosing for him. His father’s choice had led him down a soldier’s path. His mother’s choice was pushing him toward a marriage altar. Even if he could have stayed there among the Shakers, he wouldn’t have the choices he wanted. He would turn into hands and feet in service to their beliefs. That was no choice at all.

He looked at the doctor with a good bit of regret as he said, “I will miss you and Sister Lettie. You will thank her for me, won’t you?”

“Yea, but thanks are unnecessary. She did naught but her duty in caring for you. I will have a brother bring your clothes and your horse. The bandages should be sufficiently hardened now so your arm will be properly protected as long as you keep your seat on the horse.”

Tristan touched his arm and was surprised at how stiff the rag binding had become. “I am indebted to you.”

“Nay, our mercies are freely given.” Brother Benjamin waved his hand in dismissal before he turned to leave. He stopped at the door to look back at Tristan. “You will always have a place among us if you decide to turn from the ways of the world and seek the path to salvation. Perhaps that is the journey you fear to begin. Some men resist their need for the Lord.”

He didn’t wait for Tristan to answer, but went on out the door. That was just as well, for Tristan had no answer.

It felt right putting on his own clothes again, even though he had to rip open the seam of his shirtsleeve in order to slip it over his bandaged arm. It felt right pulling on his boots with his good hand. It felt right mounting his horse. The animal nickered when he put his hand on the horse’s muzzle. That too felt right.

What didn’t feel right was riding away from the village without telling the beautiful Jessamine goodbye. Without satisfying his desire to touch his lips to hers at least one time.

He turned his horse in the direction that would take him to White Oak Springs. He hoped it would be a long ride. He did not look forward to facing his mother. Her joy at his return would not overshadow her anger. He was sure of that.

He had no thought of Laura at all.

Journal Entry