The Gifted (50 page)

“But he loves another.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Jessamine managed to hold in a sigh. “Whether I believe it or not, I do believe he made a promise he must keep.”

“At least one he thinks he must keep,” her father said. “Some promises are ill made.”

“Even promises made to God?”

“I’ve made a few of those. I did when your mother was birthing you.”

“Did you keep them?”

“The ones the Lord wanted me to keep,” he said.

“And how did you know which ones they were?” She peered at him, anxious to know his answer.

“The Lord showed me.” He was quiet for a moment before he said, “Have you made promises to God?”

“Yea.” She didn’t bother changing the Shaker word. “Do you think he will show me?”

“I not only think it, I’m sure of it. The Lord gives us many gifts. Your quest for life is one. A longing for love is another. But so is happiness. I believe the Lord wants us to seek those gifts. He wants to give us the desires of our heart and sometimes the desire of our heart is to love another person more than we love ourselves.”

“Is that how you loved my mother?”

“It is, but the heart can hold many loves. That’s what the Lord showed me. For a long time after your mother died, I refused to open my heart to the possibility of love again. But then the Lord put a woman in my path. I didn’t love her as I loved your mother. Each love we invite into our hearts is different, but I did fall in love with her. I do love her even now.”

“Will you marry her?” Jessamine looked at him with some curiosity.

“She is young in experience even as you are and does not understand the worth of love, but I have hope of convincing her before it is too late.”

“Too late?”

“Too late for all of us.”

She bent her head down to stare at the pen she held. It was already too late. It had been too late before she even stumbled over Tristan in the woods. Such sad words. Too late.

He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face up until she met his eyes. Dark eyes full of concern for her sadness. “Don’t fret, my little girl. You had a terrifying night. It’s only natural for you to feel unsettled. So rest today and tomorrow wake with the sun and be ready to begin the rest of your life.” He smiled at her. “Trust me on this. I do believe the morning to come will be a gift to you.”

He left her then, after she promised to lie down and rest. That was a promise she could keep. So she lay in the too soft bed and listened to the thud of axes and the scraping sound of saws outside as the workers cleared away the downed trees. So much broken and torn away in such a few moments. And yet when she had looked out that morning, some trees were still standing. Trees that had been outside the path of the storm.

A good place to be. Outside the storm. Protected and spared. That’s how she’d been at Harmony Hill. Protected and spared from the winds of the world. Was her father right that no matter the destruction, it was better to have known the wind?

And what could he mean by the morning being a gift to her? The morning would change nothing. But come morning, perhaps the Lord would show her the way, show her how to keep the promises she’d made. She would not see Tristan again. It was enough that she knew he was well. He would marry the princess and keep his promises. And she would pray for a sign.

There are many kinds of love.
Her father’s words echoed in her head. Then Sister Sophrena’s words were there.
The love of the Eternal Father and that of your sisters and brothers will forever be the same.
But over them all were Tristan’s words.
I love you, my beautiful Jessamine.

Was that gift enough? Hearing those words of love even if there would never be more. She stared up at the ceiling and prayed that her way would come clear. She prayed for gifts to shower down on them all. She gave thanks for the trees out of the path of the storm. She gave thanks for the Lord’s hand protecting her. Protecting Tristan. More gifts of grace.

She had so many reasons to be thankful. It was wrong to want more gifts. Hadn’t Sister Sophrena always told her it was a gift to be simple? To do her duty and receive what the Lord gave. A song she had sung in meeting hundreds of times began playing through her mind.

’Tis the gift to be simple

’Tis the gift to be free,

’Tis the gift to come down

Where we ought to be.

Where she ought to be. That was what she needed the Lord to show her. That was what the morning would bring her. That sign.

Jessamine woke before daylight and listened for some sound that might give a hint of the time. No noise came to her ears except the whine of a mosquito. She slapped at it as she sat up and stared toward the window. Her father had promised she would be ready to welcome the morning. That she might know her way then, but all she felt was very alone.

No, not alone. Never alone. Her granny’s words whispered through her memory.
You don’t ever have to feel alone, my sweet Jessamine. I’m here with you and even if something were to happen to me, you can be sure the good Lord will still be right here beside you. He won’t let you be bewildered or frightened too long. He’ll send you light in the dark, answers in the day, and joy for your heart. That you can depend on.

Jessamine had depended on that and the Lord had been an ever-present presence with her, as close as a prayer the same as he had been when she was stumbling around in the lake. She got out of bed and went to the window. The morning was coming. The eastern horizon was uncurling fingers of pink. In her head, she heard the echo of the Shaker bell that would be ringing to signal the time to rise and begin work. She missed the sound of the bell. It had been such a rhythm of her life. Keeping her in order. Letting her know when it was time to rise or time to eat or time to worship.

The world had no bells to keep order. She could sleep all day and no one would ring a bell to wake her. They did ring a bell to signal the evening meal here at White Oak Springs, but it didn’t bring about order. Instead the people pushed against one another, talking and yelling as they rushed for their tables.

She looked toward her pad of paper and pen and ink on the table and wished for more light so that she could write down her contrary thinking. While at Harmony Hill she often chafed against the rules, but now here in this garden of indulgence, she reached for rules.

Something white caught her eye over by the door. An envelope slipped under her door while she slept. Dare she believe it might be from Tristan? Her heart was beating up into her ears as she leaned over to pick up the note. There was no writing on the envelope. She pulled the letter out and unfolded the thin sheet of paper, but the light was too dim for her to read the words. She carried it over to the window where dawn was beginning to lighten the air.

The handwriting was familiar, changed somewhat from the letter she’d read only days ago, but still her father’s.

My dear Jessamine,

The morning has come and with it your new beginning. You may not be able to understand what I am doing or forgive it. But I assure you I am not deserting you now any more than I did when you were a baby. I carried you with me through the years in my heart. I will always carry you in my heart, my beautiful daughter.

That said, there is something very important that I must do. As much for you as for me. Perhaps even more for you. And so I have left. But not for long this time. That is a promise I make without hesitation.

But this brief separation is necessary for the happiness of us both. I saw your tears and though I could not wipe them away, I must do whatever I can to eliminate the reason for your sadness. Love is worth it. Whatever the sacrifice, love is definitely worth it. For me as well as for you. Now you must trust and wait for that love.

Your room is paid here at White Oak Springs until the end of the season. I will always see that you are cared for, but I am confident what I do today will open up other opportunities to you. Do not be afraid to seize those opportunities. Especially if that is what your heart is telling you to do. Do not doubt your heart. Never doubt your heart.

You are every bit as beautiful as I always imagined you would be, my Jessamine. You share my blood and you share my gift. Embrace the gift of words. It will bring you joy and sorrow. But be confident that the joy will always overshadow the sorrow.

So I beg you to trust me and remember my promise to return. Meanwhile this is the best way. Seize your chance for love.

Your loving father

She looked up from the letter. He claimed to love her. He promised to be part of her life. To be her father. She believed him, but the fact remained underneath his words that he was gone beyond her reach. First Tristan and now her father. Both loving her. Both leaving her to find her own way.

She glanced down at the words again in the gray light coming in the window. He was right. She did not understand. How could she trust what she did not understand? He’d left her alone in this strange world.

Sister Sophrena’s words echoed in her mind.
Worldly love will disappoint you, Sister Jessamine. You can be assured of that, but the love of your sisters and brothers will forever be strong.

Her father had told her that with the morning her answer would come. She would know her path, but she didn’t know when she’d ever felt more unsure. She shut her eyes, bent her head, and spoke her prayer aloud. “Please, Lord, I don’t know what to do.”

When she looked up, the sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, and there, riding toward the hotel was Brother Hector making a delivery to the kitchens. He was getting an early start to his duties on this day.

She went to the wardrobe and reached down under all Mrs. Browning’s lovely dresses to pull out the neatly folded Shaker dress. She had her sign. ’Tis the gift to be simple. ’Tis the gift to be free. Free from heartache. She had run to the world, ready to embrace its gifts, and found them wrapped in nothing but sadness.

As she pulled the familiar dress over her head, her father’s written words whispered through her thoughts.
Now you must trust and wait for that love. Never doubt your heart.
But she would not wait to see Tristan marry the princess. She had her sign.

She touched the pen and notebook. She so wanted to carry them with her. But they would not be allowed at Harmony Hill. There were rules to follow. Rules to give order to one’s life. She dipped the pen in ink and wrote Abigail a note giving her the dresses. Then she laid the pen on the book, turned, and went out the door, leaving the world behind her.

Journal Entry

Harmony Hill Village

Entered on this 27th day of June in the year 1849

by Sister Sophrena Prescott

What a joyous day for us here at Harmony Hill! Our sister has returned to the fold. Brother Hector brought her back to us before the midday meal this day. I could hardly believe my eyes when Eldress Frieda summoned me to the Trustee’s House. But there was our Sister Jessamine standing with the eldress, in the Shaker dress she wore away from here only days ago.

She kept her eyes downcast, shamed by her falling away, as she begged my forgiveness. I gave it readily, for I was so very relieved to see her back within our safe borders. I expected her to look up and smile then as she has done so many times over the years after I have forgiven her some slight, and she did. But it was not the same smile as in past years. Her lips did turn up, but the sorrow in her eyes took away any thought that her smile might come from her heart. She looked bone weary as if she’d been harvesting beans all through the day without the proper rest breaks to keep her body strong.