Honor (8 page)

“I do not want to marry, but there are no jobs for me or Royale. This house . . .” She gestured toward the For Sale sign and shrugged. “Thee plans to leave. What will we do?”

Samuel bowed his head and clasped his hands together. Her honesty shocked him. He’d been so wrapped up in his plans and his worry over his mother’s health that he had not thought of what this lady was facing. However, marriage—allowing someone other than family to come so close . . .

Honor could not sit and watch his distress. Her own doubt and hurt goaded her.

Outside, she collapsed onto the shaded garden seat near Royale. Royale glanced over her shoulder, then rolled a wooden ball to Eli, who was waiting across from her in the shade of another tree. Royale called out, encouraging the child to get it and roll it back. She turned to Honor. “What Miriam say?”

Honor closed her eyes, wishing she could block out everything she didn’t want to face. Sadness twisted her heart. Drawing in a deep breath, Honor answered Royale. “Miriam suggested that Samuel offer to marry me and take us four to Ohio.”

Royale’s face opened with hope. “Will you marry him if he ask you?”

Honor looked away, resenting Royale’s hopefulness, but honesty forced her to continue. Royale was counting on her, and the two of them had come face-to-face with a stone wall. “I don’t know if I am in a position to reject his offer.” Each word felt like a penance.

“Other men notice you at meeting,” Royale offered tentatively. “I saw how they look at you.” She accepted the ball from Eli and he ran back to his place, laughing.

“Yes, they might want to court me, but I’m in mourning. No one can court me or make an offer for my hand until a year passes. Where would we stay till then?” She thought of Darah, going to stay with Alec’s aunt.

“Then how can you marry Samuel?”

“Samuel doesn’t go about in society like others. I suppose we’d marry, then leave for Ohio.”

Samuel entered the back garden, heading straight toward them. Honor fought panic, the urge to flee.

Eli ran to his uncle, showing the ball. Samuel patted his head and gazed uncertainly toward them.

Royale glanced between him and Honor, and without a word, she went to Eli and led him into the house.

Samuel sat awkwardly beside Honor, overshadowing her with his large frame.

His discomfort crashed against her like the ocean tide. She stiffened herself against allowing her frustration to show. Reluctantly, she signed, “What will we do?”

Samuel rubbed his face with both hands, wishing he could roll back time. “Is my mother really dying?”

“Yes,” Honor signed, her hand motion swift and sharp.

Samuel’s heart clenched so tightly that he felt a moan deep inside. He looked away. He’d tried to avoid the fact, but it was undeniable now. How could he go on without his mother?

The woman at his side did not move. What was she thinking? The weight of what was taking place was crushing him. “You can’t want to marry me.” Samuel watched her hands, though fearful to see her reply.

Honor raised her eyes to his. “I do not want to marry any man. I’m still in mourning. I shouldn’t marry this soon. But I can do nothing else.”

She had been forthright with him, and he must not disrespect her by being less forthright. “If my mother dies, I will not be able to care for Eli and work and . . .”

“And be able to talk with others,” she finished for him. “I understand. Both of us need someone.”

Samuel nodded and, propping his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. He steeled himself to face both their situations. He could not wish away what was happening. He weighed Honor’s words.

It galled him that only at this point, the point of last resort, would a woman consider marrying him, but the world was the way it was. His mother had said that people could learn to love one another if there was trust. Was there trust between them? Could there be?

After a moment she touched his shoulder lightly.

He looked up, knowing that he must make this decision, hating that he must make this decision.

“We know each other little, but what are we to do?” she signed with effort. “Does thee know of a place for respectable unmarried women where I can stay?”

He shook his head.

“Is there anyone who will go to Ohio with thee?” She continued to point out the obvious.

Again he shook his head. No friends. No family left.

“Then . . . ?” She opened her palms in a gesture of helplessness.

His throat closed even though he never spoke words. Eli was depending on him, so what choice did he have? What choice did she have? The moment to accept the inevitable had fallen upon both of them.

He slowly dropped to one knee. “Honor Penworthy, will you be my wife and go to Ohio with me?”

H
ONEYBEES BUZZED AROUND
the flowering bushes as Honor stared at the man kneeling at her feet. A curious numbness gripped her, and a floating sensation untethered her mind like a flag drifting on the breeze. She tried to pull her thoughts together. How had God let her come to this?

But Miriam said she had prayed for her son, prayed for someone to go to Ohio with him and be his wife. Was Honor the answer to Miriam’s prayer for Samuel? Even if she didn’t want to be?
The man has proposed to me. I must not sit silent.

She gazed upward at the limitless blue sky above the surrounding roofs and felt trapped.

Samuel had bowed his head, no longer looking at her. The humility in his posture touched her. He still expected her to balk, to refuse.

Why was she hesitating? Honor and Samuel had both come to a point non plus, no options left. She gently lifted his chin so their gazes met. “Yes,” she signed, “I will be thy wife.” Each heavy word jarred her like a blow.

Samuel’s expression of disbelief told her she’d been right. He hadn’t expected her to accept, not even as a last resort. Her sympathy heightened, drawing her toward him. She stroked his cheek. Samuel had suffered much just because he couldn’t hear. She didn’t think him less a man because of his deafness. She just didn’t want to marry him, marry any man she didn’t love. Now she must find out how to do this: marry here and move to the wilderness of Ohio.

In the bushes behind her head, a bird began whistling one note over and over as if prompting her,
Do it. Do it.
“Come sit. We must talk.” She patted the sun-bleached bench.

He rose and sat beside her, not looking toward her.

She gathered her wayward thoughts like wisps of raw cotton drifting in the air. Propriety, a safe territory, presented itself first. She motioned toward her black dress. “The wedding must be private.” That would be a problem since Quaker weddings had to be public. Without any ordained ministers in the Quaker religion, all the members present had to sign the marriage certificate as witnesses.

“My mother will know what to do,” he offered.

Then a question occurred to Honor. “Why does thee want to go to Ohio?”

At this, he turned to her. “I want to have my own glassworks, my own workshop.” His fingers were emphatic.

She nodded, understanding immediately why he would choose this. Still, she needed more details, more reassurance
from him. She struggled to sign a more complicated sentence. “Does thee have funds enough for thy own shop?” Though heedless of wealth, she could not merely accept “poor” as a step up from “penniless.” Living humbly didn’t concern her, but poverty did.

Samuel looked her in the eye. “Yes. I have bought land near Cincinnati. It has a house and a large barn I can use for my work.”

“Thee has enough funds for travel expenses for four? I cannot leave Royale.” Another thought occurred. “We must hire and pay her.”

“Very well. She is good with Eli.”

She had to make something else clear to him. “Samuel, I do not know how to keep house. Royale can help, but she’ll often be occupied with Eli. . . .”

He shrugged.

The short time she’d spent here had taught her how much she didn’t know about keeping house. She doubted he understood completely. So she ventured another question. “Will we be able to pay for house help?”

He nodded again. “We will have enough to live comfortably.”

She hesitated to press him. She could only hope her idea of
comfortable
corresponded to his.

“You will speak to my mother about the wedding?” he asked, looking restless.

Of course,
she
would have to be the one to take care of arrangements with Miriam. He was marrying her so she could be the one to take care of all the communicating with the speaking world for the rest of his life. And he had
said, “Will
you
be my wife,” not “
thee
,” and he no longer attended meeting. She must broach that with him, but not now.

This arranged marriage. Samuel’s deafness. The care of his three-year-old nephew. A suffocating weight settled over her, followed by something like escalating panic.

SEPTEMBER 14, 1819

Two days later, the sun had finally lowered into twilight, golden rays gleaming through the parlor windows. It was his wedding day. Uncomfortable and hot, Samuel stood in his First Day suit, which Royale had brushed and pressed. Now Royale stood near the door, holding Eli in her arms. Samuel’s mother reclined on her chaise, ready to act as witness. White-haired Jemima Wool had come to be the other witness.

Samuel felt trapped, yet something—some hope—stirred within him. Today he was getting a wife, something he had thought impossible. His bride, Honor, stood beside him, dressed in all he’d ever seen her wear—deep black—and her face was as fixed as if she were sitting for a portrait. He feared she would falter now.

Standing with them in front of the cold fireplace, a local Congregational minister who’d known Samuel’s father had come to officiate. This minister would have to do, though neither bride nor groom shared his denomination.

The fact that Honor was still in deep mourning had saved him from the spectacle of a Quaker wedding and had persuaded the minister to come to his home to
perform this private ceremony. But when it came to it, would Honor actually go through with the marriage?

The minister bowed his head in prayer. Samuel mirrored him but was unable to pray. God’s latest treachery roiled inside him—he couldn’t set aside his anger over his mother’s illness. And his stiff bride looked as if she were facing the scaffold.