Sins of a Shaker Summer (5 page)

“Benjamin, show the eldress what you're working on. It's quite intriguing,” Andrew said, excitement seeping into his voice. “He's trying to develop a treatment for asthma that doesn't use the poisonous ingredients we used once, but that will work more effectively than what is currently available. As I'm sure you are aware, ever since Congress passed the Pure Food and Drug Act in 1906, we've had to adjust our recipes for curatives to avoid poisonous ingredients and exaggerated claims of curative properties.”

Benjamin snorted in derision. “People can be so foolish. Just because they see a poisonous herb listed in the ingredients, they think a medicine will kill them. All they have to do is follow instructions.”

“In this part of the country,” Rose said, “many people cannot read. And they are sadly susceptible to wild claims that a remedy can cure them, whatever their illness.”

Benjamin shrugged one shoulder and turned away.

“Thank you for the tour, Andrew. I'm glad to get to know all of you better,” Rose said with forced cheerfulness. Only Andrew listened to her; the others had buried themselves in their work.

“If you have any more questions, I'd be glad—” Andrew said.

“Indeed, I do. I must head back to the Ministry House. Walk with me a bit.” Rose noticed Patience pause and stare in her direction. No one else seemed to take notice.

“I didn't want the others to hear,” Rose said as she and Andrew walked away from the Medicinal Herb Shop. “Do you . . . ?” Rose spoke slowly, searching for the right phrasing. “Does it seem to you that your little work group is somewhat . . . strained?”

Andrew glanced over at her, his face open with surprise.
“Strained? Nay, I can't say that I'd noticed it. They seemed quite themselves to me.”

“Really.” Rose walked a few steps in silence.

“Was there something in particular . . . ?”

Rose stopped, forcing Andrew to look at her. “Andrew, those people were disrespectful to both of us, and not just once. You can't tell me that you didn't notice at least when Thomas implied that I would not understand his sales figures.”

“Oh, that. Thomas signed the covenant shortly before we left Mount Lebanon. He is still partly in the world, I'm afraid, and his attitudes show it. He hasn't yet absorbed our belief that sisters and brethren are equal in the eyes of God. I mean, he understands Mother Ann's chosenness, but somehow he slips up in his day-to-day life.”

“He should have learned more thoroughly before signing the covenant.”

Andrew's angular chin tightened. “I'd have to say that I agree with you. In fact, when the time came to decide whether he and Irene might sign the covenant, I was a dissenting voice. He has superb sales skills, which the Society values, but I felt he was not yet ready to commit his soul to the community.”

“I see,” Rose said. “And so he resents you.”

“Perhaps, though my opinion was ignored. At any rate, his disrespect to you was not personal; it was a reflection of his worldly attitude toward women in general. I will take him to task for it.”

“Nay, you did so already. But please keep an eye on him. I want him to treat the sisters as equals, and you are most likely to catch him doing otherwise.”

“Shall I bring the issue up with Wilhelm?”

Rose pursed her lips to stop a cynical retort from escaping. “Nay, I wouldn't bother. Tell me, do you find Thomas trustworthy?”

“Trustworthy.” Andrew rolled the word around in his
mouth and it came out as a statement. “I have no reason to believe him otherwise.”

Rose noted the careful wording, but instinct told her that she would get no unsupported guesses out of Andrew. She could sense him closing up.

By unspoken agreement, they had strolled into the herb fields north of the Herb House. Rose stooped to snip a basil leaf, which she rolled between her fingers to release the spicy fragrance. The rush of pleasure distracted her, and she veered too close to Andrew. He did not seem to notice as she quickly sidestepped away from him. After a year in the world as a young woman, as well as serving her Society for ten years as trustee and dealing daily with the world's people, she felt none of the discomfort with men that some of the other sisters developed. She really should watch herself more carefully. As eldress, she wanted to set a good example.

“Tell me about the others,” she said. “I'm intrigued by Patience and her gifts. Did she display them in Mount Lebanon?”

“A little. I believe they were beginning to emerge, but I remember only an occasional gift song or perhaps an inspired dance. Her dancing is remarkable. But spiritual healing, nay, I saw no sign of that. It does not surprise me, though—she is so interested in healing. She begged to become a medicinal herb worker, even though she is the only sister in the group. It took a full year to gain permission from the Mount Lebanon Ministry, and I had to promise a separate working space for her.”

“Does she get along with Thomas and Benjamin and Willy?”

“She keeps to herself, as she should, surrounded as she is by brethren. But she is well able to work on her own. I do little supervision, with her or with the brethren. They are all quite gifted and hardworking, and that leaves me free to develop new business ideas.”

They had reached a row of gray-green sage. Rose
brushed the bottom of her work dress against the fuzzy leaves to release the pungent fragrance.

“Has Benjamin worked with you for a long time?” she asked.

“Since he first appeared on our doorstep, three years ago. In fact, he signed the covenant only shortly after I did.”

“And yet you have become trustee, and he is still an assistant.”

“I am no more talented than he, I assure you. Less so, in fact. Perhaps it is God's plan to keep him at his experiments, doing what he does so well.”

Rose let a few moments pass. Andrew had given her some tidbits, but mostly she had learned that he was protective of his workers. She admired that, even if it frustrated her search for information.

“And what about you?” she asked, as they stepped over a row of low-growing thyme, recovering from its first harvesting. “What is your story?”

“A very boring one, I assure you,” Andrew said with a small laugh.

Rose felt a flush of embarrassment, as though she had delved on too personal a level. “How did you become interested in medicinal herbs?”

“When I was in the world, I trained in pharmacy,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I'd planned to find work in a drugstore, but then I became a Believer, and . . .” His voice grew quiet as it trailed off.

“So you joined us just over three years ago?”

“Three and a half.”

“But . . . Forgive me, but I guessed you to be only a few years older than I. Surely there were some intervening years, between your training and becoming a Believer? Did you work in business?”

Andrew's breathing grew audibly jerky, as if he was holding back emotion. Watching him sideways, Rose saw his tall, straight back hunch forward as if a sack of bricks had been lowered onto his shoulders. Her wish to protect
his privacy struggled with her need to know everything she could about each of the medicinal herb workers, including him. Her kindness won.

“I believe I've stumbled onto a painful subject, Andrew. You do not need to answer me, if you do not wish to.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Perhaps later.”

“I understand.” Rose walked quietly with him a few more moments, feeling the air heavy with heat and painful secrets. She hoped he would someday trust them all enough to lighten his burden by sharing them.

D
RIVING THE EIGHT MILES OF RUTTED ROAD BETWEEN
North Homage and the town of Languor gave Rose a chance to sort through her thoughts. The open window of the Society's black Plymouth sucked in the heavy afternoon heat along with the dust that coated her face and the leather seats. The car would need a good cleaning when she returned, but she couldn't bear to close the window.

She had decided to pay a visit to her former protégée, Gennie Malone, now eighteen and on her own in the world. Something was askew in the Medicinal Herb Shop; Rose felt sure of it. The disrespectful attitudes, the odd secrecy . . . She suspected the shop was connected with the apparent poisoning of Nora and Betsy. The girls were still floating in deep sleep, so she couldn't question them, but she'd found no evidence of their being anywhere near cleaning compounds. It was far more likely that they had ingested some dangerous plant. Yet North Homage took special care to avoid growing poisonous plants and to teach the children to recognize and stay clear of the few the village still grew. To help sort out this mystery, Rose needed another pair of eyes and ears, and Gennie's were sharp and reliable.

Fields of half-grown corn sped by, and she entered the poorest section of town, shanties that lined the eastern outskirts. A few tanned and ragged children drew in the dirt road with a stick, the heat slowing down their movements
so they seemed to be playing in their sleep. The other inhabitants must actually have been asleep, because the scraggly yards and front stoops were empty. Rose was relieved; driving through this section of Languor always saddened her and reminded her why the Society always planted extra crops to be harvested by hungry neighbors.

The sweltering air cooled a notch as she entered a more well-to-do section of town, where elm trees canopied the streets, giving welcome shade. Here the children were better fed and well clothed, and they played with more energy. Rose parked on a side street and walked the short distance to a narrow shop nestled in a line of attached buildings surrounding the town square. A sign showing a painted red rose advertised the tiny flower shop where Gennie Malone worked.

A bell tinkled her entrance as Rose opened the door. A young woman with auburn curls poked her head out of a back room, and her face lit with pleasure.

“Rose!” Gennie rushed forward and threw her arms around Rose, standing on tiptoe to do so. “What perfect timing. Come on back, I've got something to show you.” She took Rose by the hand and led her through the salesroom, with its neat bundles of flowers soaking in vases of cool water. Rose recognized carnations and black-eyed Susans. The workroom was a startling contrast. Fragments of stems and leaves, snippets of ribbon, and twisted lengths of floral wire littered the floor and a large worktable. At one corner sat a slender glass vase holding a tall floral confection, a riot of pinks and purples.

“What do you think?” Gennie asked.

“Well, Gennie, I must say, I'd hoped that we had taught you better,” Rose said, trying to keep herself from laughing.

“I know it's using flowers for adornment, but, Rose, I'm in the world now, and really, don't you think it's just lovely?”

“Nay, what I meant was that I'd hoped we had taught you to keep a floor swept.”

“Oh, you—you're teasing me. Well, you also taught me not to waste my efforts, so I give the place a good sweeping when I've finished my work for the day. Now, tell me what you think of my creation.”

Rose stepped up close to the bouquet, ran her hands over velvety petals, and sniffed the variety of fragrances. “I must admit,” she said, “the colors are luscious. And you've used some unusual flowers, haven't you? Isn't this foxglove?” she asked, fingering a stalk of bell-like pink flowers with freckled centers.

“Yes! I mean,
yea,
it is.” Gennie giggled. “I'm starting to sound like Elsa.”

Rose smiled. Elsa tried to speak in the old way, like Elder Wilhelm, but she tended to slip back into hill-country vernacular. “We will always be friends, no matter how you speak. As you said, you're part of the world now.” She turned back to the bouquet. “How did you think of using foxglove?”

“I remembered them from the medic garden, and I always loved them. I thought they were every bit as pretty as the roses.”

“You know, they are poisonous. Will you warn customers not to let children nibble on them?”

“I hadn't thought of that. This bouquet is for a centerpiece. Grady's family is giving a big dinner party tonight. No children will be there, but I'll warn Grady anyway. And I'll be there, so I can keep an eye on it,” she added, shyness softening her exuberant voice.

Rose swallowed hard. She had so hoped that Gennie would sign the covenant and become a Believer, but each day took her deeper into the world. She couldn't worry about that now, though.

“Gennie, I've come to ask a favor of you,” she said. “Something has happened in North Homage, and I need your help.” She told Gennie about the children's illness,
the “healing” of Nora, and the confusing behavior of the Believers in the Medicinal Herb Shop.

“So you want me to spy,” Gennie concluded, with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Within reason, of course. I want you to remain safe always. But with your knowledge of herbs, I think you'll fit in without arousing suspicion, and then all you have to do is keep your eyes and ears open. There may be no foundation for my fears, of course, but I want to be certain.”

“Are you sure I won't seem suspicious? After all, I didn't remember that foxglove was poisonous, and they will surely know that we are friends.”

“I've thought of all that. I'll tell them that times are tough and you lost your job here, so I've hired you to keep you going until you can find another position. They will understand that. And I'll tell them of your expertise in the culinary uses of herbs and your interest in learning about their medicinal aspects so you can look for a job in a drugstore. We can ask Emily to give you a leave of absence and back up our story, if anyone asks her.” Emily O'Neal was manager of the flower shop and Grady's sister.

Gennie's small face puckered and cleared as she thought through the proposal. “I suppose it could work,” she said finally. “It would certainly be an exciting change for me. Grady won't like it, of course, but I'm an adult, and I can do what I want. Anyway, it wouldn't hurt to have Grady aware of what's going on and maybe keeping a watchful eye on North Homage. Okay, I'll do it! I'll talk to Emily when she gets back this afternoon. I know she won't have any problem letting me go for a while; business is slow in the summer. And I'll tell Grady tonight. I can arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon. Is that early enough?”