It pained Samuel to see her so trusting, so confident, for he knew his brother, and he was sure Reiver’s fidelity would never last.
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Later, after forming bread dough into loaves and setting them aside to rise, Hannah wiped the flour from her hands, removed her apron, and went outside to find her husband and tell him of her plan.
She found Reiver in the mill yard helping to unload two wagons stacked with baskets of cocoons that had traveled from China by clipper ship to the coastal town of New London and overland to Coldwater.
Hannah watched him work, his shirt sleeves rolled up out of the way and his furrowed brow beaded with the sweat of exertion on a hot summer morning. She remembered last night, and the strength of those arms around her.
He jumped down from the wagon, drew out his knife, and ripped open one of the baskets, the covering of which was stamped with strange black markings that Hannah knew were Chinese writing.
Reiver plunged his hands into the cocoons, straightened, and bellowed an epithet that made all the men freeze and stare.
“Broken!” Red-faced, he cursed again and held up the cocoon for all to see.
“Those bastards have cheated us again!
“Let’s get these baskets open and see how many more are broken,” Reiver said to his men. He turned and noticed Hannah.
The anger faded from his blue eyes, and he smiled. He stopped working and walked toward her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work,” she said.
He looked back at the baskets in disgust. “You’re a most welcome interruption.”
He’s never said that to me before
, Hannah thought. She said, “Isn’t there anything you can do about this…this thievery?”
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Reiver shook his head. “Short of going to China and watching them select the cocoons myself, there is nothing I can do except complain to the middleman and take my business to another company.”
“They’re cheating us, and it’s just not right!”
Her indignation on his behalf must have surprised him, for he placed a soothing hand on her arm. “I’m just as furious as you are, Hannah, but I’m afraid this is just a cost of doing business with the Chinese. Since I can’t raise my own silk, I have to import it.” He raised one brow. “But I’m sure you didn’t come down here to discuss Chinese silk with me.”
She knotted her fingers together. “I—I’d like your permission to buy some books for the women to read in the skein room.”
His face clouded. “But I don’t want to encourage laziness. I want them to work.”
“Reading wouldn’t encourage laziness. It will make their work go faster and improve their minds. I thought they could take turns reading aloud and taking the books home at night.”
“Why do you wish to do this?”
She looked away shyly. “Because the mill is important to you, and I want to help.”
“But you do help me by taking care of my home and children.”
“And I will continue to do so. But the mill is our family business, after all, and I feel that I should know something about it.” When he hesitated, she added,
“Running the mill itself is men’s work, I know, but at least I could concern myself with our workers’ welfare just as I do for my own children.”
Reiver rubbed his wide jaw thoughtfully, then nodded. “All right. You may buy books for the women in the skein room. We’ll try this plan of yours for three months. But if their productivity falls, no more books.”
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“Agreed. Thank you, Reiver.” Hannah stood on tiptoes and kissed him swiftly on the cheek, delighting in the way his eyes darkened expectantly before she turned away and returned to the house.
The following day, when Samuel left for Hartford, Hannah gave him a list of books she wanted, and the moment he returned with them she went to the skein room to put her plan into action. Constance, Henrietta, and Sadie were wary at first, but once Hannah began reading, they relaxed and their fingers flew. That evening Constance and Sadie took books home.
By the end of the week Hannah deemed her project a success.
As the summer passed and Reiver made no comment about the success or failure of Hannah’s plan, she grew increasingly apprehensive. But he had given her three months, so she would just have to wait until the fall.
The leaves blazed red, yellow, and orange on the cool October evening that Hannah would learn the fate of her daily readings with the mill women.
Holding Davey in her arms, she touched her lips to his downy head before putting him to bed and murmured, “You and Ben are going to have another little brother or sister soon.”
After bearing two children, she knew the telltale signs all too well. Watching Davey’s eyelids droop as he fought sleep, Hannah smiled to herself. While she loved her two sons with all her heart, this child was going to be special because it had been conceived in mutual desire. And she hoped that this time it would be a girl.
Once Davey drifted off to sleep, Hannah went downstairs to tell Reiver her own news.
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She found him in the parlor, reading the newspaper. Suddenly he sat up straight and his expression contorted in pain and anger. He swore and flung down the newspaper before bolting out of his chair and stalking off to the window, where he stood running his hand through his hair and muttering.
“Reiver, what’s wrong?” Hannah crossed the room to his side. “Did something you read upset you?”
He looked at her, his expression bleak as he fought to control his emotions.
“No, Hannah, nothing’s wrong. I just received another shipment of inferior cocoons from China, that’s all, and I’m steamed about it.”
Hannah moistened her dry lips. “Reiver, I have something to tell you.”
He smiled. “And I have something to tell you. The women can go on reading. If anything, their productivity has improve over the last three months, so I see no reason to stop.”
Hannah flung her arms around her husband’s neck and hugged him. “Oh, Reiver, that’s wonderful!” But she drew away in puzzlement when he stiffened in her arms. To hide he confusion over his rebuff, she added, “I have news of my own.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to have another baby.”
He stood there in silence for a moment, then he tilted her chin with his fingers and kissed her swiftly on the mouth. When he released her, he smiled wanly. “So I’m to be a father again. Thank you, Hannah.” But the joy he had displayed those other two times just wasn’t there.
Crushed, Hannah stepped away from him. “Aren’t you happy about this baby?”
“Of course I am. I’ve just had a particularly hard, frustrating day, that’s all.
Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s something I have to attend to down at the mill.”
And he walked out of the parlor, grabbing his coat before disappearing out the door.
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Hannah stared after him, her eyes filling with tears. She hadn’t expected him to be so unenthusiastic, so cold. And she didn’t believe an inferior shipment of silk was the cause. Reiver’s mood had been pleasant that evening.
She looked over at the
Hartford Standard
crumpled on the floor where Reiver had thrown it. Something he had read upset him. She was sure of it.
Hannah picked up the newspaper and scanned the headlines of the page Reiver had been reading. A steam boiler had exploded…the banker Amos Tuttle wed the widow Cecelia Layton…the Connecticut River was lower than usual due to the dry autumn.
Hannah frowned in puzzlement. Nothing written here should have upset her husband so.
She folded the newspaper neatly and placed her hand reassuringly on her abdomen. “Don’t worry, little one. He’ll come to accept you in time.”
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Chapter Six
“Mama, is Abigail an idiot?” Benjamin said, kneeling on the floor and peering into his baby sister’s cradle.
“Benjamin Shaw! What a horrible thing to say!” Hannah lifted her eight-month-old daughter and held her against her shoulder as if she could physically protect her child from hurtful words. “Who called Abigail that?”
Benjamin shrugged. “I don’t remember. I just heard it somewhere.”
“Was it Mrs. Hardy? Or that gossiping Millicent? Come, come. I’m waiting for an answer, young man.”
He rose and scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I said I don’t remember!”
“Fine. Then you’ll go to your room and stay there until your memory returns.”
For one moment defiance flared in Ben’s eyes, then he muttered, “Yes, Mama,” and left the nursery to accept his punishment. Hannah knew from past experience that he would remain in his room for the rest of the day and evening, and even then he might not capitulate unless his father scolded him. Ben idolized his father, whose disapproval hurt more than a whipping.
Once alone, Hannah hugged Abigail, her cheek pressed against the downy blond head. “You’re not an idiot, my darling. You’re my sweet, precious little girl.”
But though her mother’s heart denied it with a lioness’s protective ferocity, Hannah’s rational mind suspected that her daughter wasn’t quite right.
The Vow
Abigail always had been slow. In the womb, she hadn’t kicked as often or as hard as the boys, and she took an excruciating three days being born, almost taking Hannah’s life.
As the weeks passed and she grew, she took longer to raise her head and roll onto her stomach.
Hannah shifted Abigail in her arms and looked down at the grave, chubby face, and her heart sank when the baby made no sign of recognition, just stared up at her mother as if she were a stranger. Without warning, recognition finally dawned like the rising sun and Abigail smiled, filling her mother with false hope.
Hannah smiled back and tickled her daughter’s chin. “Why, hello there, little Abigail.” Her smile died. “You’re not an idiot, and when I find out who dared call you that…”
She shouldn’t compare Abigail with the boys. After all, she was a little girl, and little girls were different, quieter and less fussy. Hannah knew that Abigail possessed all her mental faculties, and she would catch up to her brothers all in good time.
Hannah carried Abigail downstairs and found Mrs. Hardy in the buttery, giving Davey some gingerbread.
Mrs. Hardy’s silver gaze went to Abigail, and she frowned slightly before looking up at Hannah. “Where’s Ben? I’m waiting to take him and Davey for a walk.”
“Ben’s being punished,” Hannah replied. “Mrs. Hardy, will you step into the parlor while Davey finishes his gingerbread? There’s something I have to say to you.”
“I can see I’m in for a talking-to,” the housekeeper muttered.
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Once in the parlor, out of Davey’s hearing, Hannah said, “I’ve sent Ben to his room because he asked me if Abigail was an idiot and wouldn’t tell me where he heard the word. Do you know who would dare make up such a horrible lie about my little girl?”
“You have to accept it, Hannah. This poor mite just isn’t like the other children.”
Hannah reared back. “That doesn’t mean my little girl is an idiot!” She pressed her lips to Abigail’s forehead. “She’s just a little slower than the boys, that’s all. She’ll catch up one day.”
Mrs. Hardy’s doubtful expression spoke volumes.
Hannah said, “You’ve all been discussing Abigail behind my back, haven’t you?”
A guilty red flush stained the housekeeper’s neck. “I won’t lie to you. We’ve talked among ourselves. We’ve all noticed that Abigail isn’t as”—she groped for the right word—“lively as the boys were at her age. Reiver didn’t want us to upset you.”
Suddenly fatigued, Hannah dropped down into the rocking chair. Abigail, oblivious to the undercurrent swirling about her, had fallen asleep in her mother’s arms. Ben and Davey had always been quick to sense tension and quicker to wail in protest, but not Abigail. Despair rose like bile in Hannah’s throat.
Four-year-old Davey, his chin still decorated with gingerbread crumbs, appeared in the parlor doorway. “I’m finished, Mrs. Hardy,” he announced. “I want to play with Ben now.” Davey stuck to his older brother like a shadow.
“You can’t play with Ben today,” Hannah said. “He’s being punished and will have to stay in his room.”
Davey blinked hard, his eyes filling with tears.
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“Take him for a walk,” Hannah said dully. “I’m tired and I want to be alone with my little girl.”
Mrs. Hardy nodded, brushed crumbs from Davey’s chin with her apron, then took his hand and left for their walk.
Just before the door closed behind them, Hannah heard her son ask, “But why is Ben being punished?” Then the voices died and she was alone.
Hannah rocked back and forth, back and forth, letting the soft creak of the runners and the quietness of the house soothe her. She looked down at Abigail, so serene in repose, and her heart clenched in fear.
What did life hold for her innocent, imperfect daughter? Would she recognize her own name? Would she be able to read and make her letters? And when she grew into a young lady, would some respectable young man fall in love with her and ask her to marry him? Or would people ridicule her and call her an idiot?
Idiot…
Why had God done this to her child? Why? Hannah closed her eyes, squeezing hot, bitter tears onto her cheeks. But she brushed them away as soon as they fell.
“God may have abandoned you, my precious little girl,” she whispered, “but I won’t. I’ll always be here to protect you.”
Always.
Reiver walked home to the faint pounding of hammers.
Instead of going directly to the house for his noon meal, he turned left and went to see how construction was progressing on his new house.
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