The Gifted (31 page)

So she planted the beans and she dreamed. She answered Sister Edna’s demands and she dreamed. She ate her evening meal in silence and kept dreaming. They went up into the upper room and practiced laboring the dances. She counted her steps and dreamed of what might have been if her granny had not died.

She stretched out on her narrow Shaker bed and shut her eyes to sleep and wished the dreams to follow her into the night. At first, she was not sure she wasn’t still dreaming when she heard her name whispered in her ear.

“Jessamine. Sister Jessamine, wake up.”

The whispered voice was insistent and finally pulled Jessamine away from her dreams. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the morning dawning, but the night was still heavy on them. She started to speak an answer, but a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Shh! You’ll wake the sister witch.”

Jessamine came awake then and knew it was Sister Abigail stooped beside her bed, whispering into her ear. She nodded a little and Sister Abigail removed her hand. It wasn’t the first time Sister Abigail had whispered her awake in the deep of the night. Those other times, before Jessamine was being watched, they had sneaked out on the front steps in the moonlight to talk of forbidden things of the world.

Jessamine rose up a little off her pillow to peer over toward Sister Edna. She was a sound sleeper and even now she was snoring as she enjoyed the deserved rest of the faithful Shaker. Jessamine’s eyes began adjusting to the night and she could see Sister Abigail was not wearing a night shift but instead her Shaker dress without the white collar or apron.

“What are you doing, Sister Abigail?” Jessamine whispered.

“Leaving.” Determination was plain in Sister Abigail’s softly whispered word. “I had my hand on the door when I felt compelled to come back to your bed. You should come with me. The world calls to you.”

“Nay, I cannot leave my family.” Jessamine whispered the words quickly, even as a finger of temptation poked her. She could leave. She could go in search of her father. Her path might cross that of the man from the world again. She might find Tristan Cooper.

“This family has no love for you. Not the way they’ve tied you to evil Edna. They merely want to make us into slaves to do their bidding.”

“Beloved sisters, not slaves,” Jessamine insisted.

“You are fooling yourself, Jessamine. We are no more than hands and feet and broad backs to do their labor. Come away with me and experience the freedom of the world.”

“Nay, I cannot.”

Sister Edna’s snore cut off as she shifted in her bed. Jessamine held her breath as Abigail sank down lower beside the bed. But the woman did not awaken as she began to snore evenly once more.

“I must go.” Abigail silently stood. Then she leaned back down toward Jessamine. “You will regret not coming with me, but I will pray for your escape.”

She slipped like a shadow away from Jessamine toward the door. She looked back once before she silently pulled the door shut behind her.

“And I will pray for you.” Jessamine mouthed the words without making a whisper of noise. Then she stared into the dark of the night and tried to keep her feet still. They itched with the desire to follow Abigail out the door. The regret the young sister had promised began rising dark within Jessamine.

Journal Entry

Harmony Hill Village

Entered on this 20th day of June in the year 1849

by Sister Sophrena Prescott

There is upset among our novitiates. Upon rising this morn, one of the beds was found to be unoccupied. The young sister named Abigail has chosen to run back to the world. Sister Edna reported the news to Eldress Frieda after the rising bell during the time of early chores. I was with the eldress when Sister Edna made her report. Both of us were much disturbed by the folly of the young sister and the sorrow-burdened life she has no doubt run toward. A life with none of the blessings and gifts she could have enjoyed so abundantly here among us.

The sister never settled into our ways. From the first day among us she resisted our teachings. While we all hoped her will would bend and she would see the error of her ways, I don’t think any of us were overly hopeful of that happening.

I do have to admit I was greatly relieved to see Sister Jessamine obediently following after Sister Edna, for she too had to come when Sister Edna made the report due to her condition of constant supervision. I was very uncertain of what temptations might beset her after she read the letter from her natural father of the world. She has not tried to deny her confusion of thought, and when I heard upon rising that a sister had slipped away during the night, I could not help but be concerned for our Sister Jessamine. That was why I was seeking out the eldress. So I could relieve my worries in her regard.

I must confess I did succumb to the temptation to read the letter that lay in wait for our sister so many years. Nigh on twenty. Since she was a tiny baby. I intended to do no more than stuff it back in the envelope and return it to the Ministry to keep or destroy as they saw fit, but the words reached for my eyes. I told myself knowing what the letter said would better equip me to help my sister in her confusion, but it is a truth that our minds can very often come up with what we tell ourselves are valid reasons to do the things that tempt us. To stray from the simple path of obedience.

The words I read did not cause me to doubt my life here among my brethren and sisters. I am content here. It is my life. My work. My worship. But the words of Sister Jessamine’s natural father did bring tears to my eyes. As Sister Jessamine told me after she had finished reading through the letter—he loved her. A worldly love to be sure, but expressed with such sincerity I could not help being moved by his words. So it is no wonder our young sister felt some confusion in her heart.

I never knew feelings like that. Never really felt loved until I came into the Society where I am ever surrounded with love. My natural father thought me no more than a burden. A female plain of face. He cared not that I showed an affinity for words. He wanted sons to work with him in the fields and ride after him to the hunt. My mother, worn brittle by the cares of the world, only wanted me grown and settled. The two of them pushed me into a sinful union of wedlock. Oh, what a blessing it would have been for me to be carried to the village here at a young age as Sister Jessamine was. And yet, she does not recognize the gift she was given. She only wants to look over her shoulder to the past or into the beyond and wonder.

I do not have to wonder. I have seen many troubles of the world. I heard my mother crying in the night and understood her tears after my own unhappy marriage. I experienced the stress and sin brought about by individual family ties just as Mother Ann warned would happen. But here at Harmony Hill we have established a heaven on earth, a paradise of love.

I am content. Sister Jessamine may find such contentment in time, but for now, it eludes her. Instead, the letter’s words dance in her mind, enticing her, making her wonder even more about the things of the world. I know this is true even though she might deny it every bit.

Eldress Frieda tells me I must stop clinging to our young sister and allow her to come to belief on her own. For while we can be a bridge to help someone along on their journey, we cannot make the journey for another. Those who come to us must open their eyes to the truth and embrace it on their own. We must allow them to step out on the Believers’ pathway and affix their signatures to the Covenant of Belief without unseemly duress.

We can pray. We can labor dances and sing down love from Mother Ann. We can shake carnal thoughts from us. But only if that is our desire. Would that Sister Jessamine’s desires will bring her back into communion with her sisters and brothers and not entice her into the world. Into sin.

20

At White Oak Springs the days were for relaxing and taking the waters, but the nights were for socializing and dancing. The Springs threw open the doors to the ballroom at least three times every week. Sometimes more. People came to the Springs to be entertained and the owner aimed to please.

Wednesday night was the first dance after Tristan came back from the Shaker village. He thought of simply staying in his room in order to avoid the awkward attempt to dance with one arm still swathed in a sling, but his mother turned pale and began breathing too rapidly as she sank down on the chair in her dressing room. Her maid, Louise, had to pull out the smelling salts.

His mother had always been prone to swoons if things didn’t go her way, and the very thought of him not at least signing Laura Cleveland’s dance card this one night was enough to make her doubt her chances for a happy life. So he sighed and agreed to do as she wanted. That had been his path ever since his father died. Do as Mother says.

In the past, before he’d gone off to fight in the war, Tristan had enjoyed the flirtatious atmosphere of such dances. He liked bringing blushes to the faces of the girls as he spun them around the dance floor. It had been a game he wanted to play. But now it simply seemed too warm in the ballroom, too crowded on the dance floor, too noisy with the talk. And not a word that mattered.

He looked toward the double doors that led into a rose garden with longing and thought of escape. But he didn’t want to just escape for a few moments of fresher air and rest for his ears. He wanted to escape the whole situation.

He and Laura had walked around the lake again that afternoon, but this time he’d been forward thinking enough to secure bread crumbs. Laura delighted in feeding the ducks, laughing at their noisy demands and greedy beaks. He laughed with her, and once again, the same as the day when they had spoken so honestly with one another about his disappearance, he told himself marriage to Laura would be far from odious.

Laura was lovely. And wealthy. And liked to laugh. So what if her eyes were more gray than blue and showed little warmth when she looked his way. He should count that a challenge and woo her until she did look on him with love. She was a girl any man would be proud to court. In fact, at that very moment on the other side of the ballroom, she was surrounded by several hopeful gentlemen trying to bring warmth to her eyes. She was definitely the most popular belle at White Oak Springs.

He should count it his good fortune she was appearing to favor his attention over the others. He should be there in the circle around her now, paying court. He’d already noted his mother’s pointed looks toward him from where she sat next to Mrs. Cleveland. She was courting the family with the same diligence she expected him to attend Laura. He had already lost a week while with the Shakers. He could ill afford to drag his feet now with the other suitors so determined.

In fact, he once more intended to say the words that afternoon, but when the bread crumbs were gone, Laura had held her hand to her head and claimed a headache. So they had no quiet moments on a bench by the pathways where he could speak words of love. Or if not love, then at least commitment. As though she knew his intent, she had almost run back toward the hotel, claiming the need of a few hours of quiet rest in her room before the evening, but later he’d seen her on the porches. It occurred to Tristan that he might be the reason for her headache instead of the garrulous ducks.

He would pull up his determination and cross the room when the song ended. His name was on her dance card, but one dance would not be enough to please his mother. She expected him to dance attendance on the girl throughout the evening as Laura’s other hopeful suitors were doing. He would do his mother’s bidding. At least enough to keep her happy so she wouldn’t begin to cast around for another candidate for his affections. Several less attractive possibilities were in that very room.