The Blessed (8 page)

Isaac looked around at the Shaker man. “Shakers die too, don’t they?”

“That they do.” Brother Asa smiled a little. “All men die. But for a Believer it is but a step across a divide from this paradise we have made here on earth to the paradise that awaits us on the heavenly shores. It is not a fearsome step.”

“Fearsome.” Isaac echoed the word as he looked back out toward the road. Everything he’d done lately seemed fearsome. Even sitting beside this peaceful little man riding back toward his village. Not something his father would have ever thought to do. No, his father would have gotten on another steamboat. His father would have ridden down the river. His father would have found a way to make some more money, to keep alive his westward dream if that was the dream he’d had. But Isaac was not his father. He was a man with a gift of cowardice. Not a gift his father would have been likely to embrace.

“All life has sorrows, my brother, of one sort or another, and while you seem to have experienced a good bit of such in your life, you will come to see that sorrow can strengthen your spirit. Our Mother Ann once said that if we took all sorrow out of life, we would take away all richness, depth, and tenderness. Sorrow is the furnace that melts selfish hearts together in love. And in truth, it is often sorrow that brings new brothers and sisters into our midst where they find that love.” Brother Asa reached over to lightly touch Isaac’s arm. “You will see.”

Isaac didn’t know why he was so worried about finding himself in this village of peace Brother Asa kept offering him so freely. So what if he never found that peace? So what if he could imagine his father frowning down on him? So what if his mother’s words telling him to live like his father were mockery as they echoed in his ears? At least he wouldn’t find the jail or gallows the judge was eager for him to find.

The sun was once more sinking in the west when Isaac spotted the first buildings of the Shaker Village rising up into the sky ahead of them. Brother Asa sat up taller on the wagon seat, and the horses, either noting the difference in the reins or perhaps smelling home, picked up their pace.

“Almost home,” Brother Asa said. “A good place to be. Home.”

Home
, Isaac thought, and wondered what the word would ever mean to him again. He couldn’t imagine embracing this place as home, but then Marian had. Marian did. She had been born to the same father as Isaac.

Behind the buildings and across the fields he could see trees, thick and dark in the dusky light. Beyond the woods and down the cliff, the river ran past the village. Marian had written of the landing the Shakers had there and how Isaac could stop to visit her if he was on the river. There were many avenues of escape from the village if a man so desired. If a man wasn’t wrapped too thickly in his gift of cowardice. A man different from Isaac.

The village pathways were deserted as Brother Asa drove the wagon through the village and out toward one of the barns. “I had hoped we’d be here in time for the evening meal, but perhaps one of the sisters will take pity on us and bring us a bit of sustenance out of the regular time. If so, you will be expected to eat whatever is offered.”

“You’ll have no worries there.”

“First we must tend to the horses. Then we’ll visit the bathhouse and get you some proper clothes before we take you to Elder Homer. He is in charge of the Gathering Order.” He pulled the horses to a stop in front of a barn and waited while Isaac climbed down to open the doors.

“Where is everybody?” Isaac looked around while Asa guided the horses inside the barn. Isaac left the doors open to the fading light and went to hold the horses while the Shaker man climbed down from the wagon. “All in bed already?”

“Nay. The retiring bell rings at nine o’clock. Now the brothers and sisters are gathered in each family house for worship practice.”

“Practice?” Isaac looked across the back of the horses at the Shaker man who was unhooking the harness. “You practice worship? I thought that just happened.”

“We labor the worship dances in good order and the steps must be practiced. Plus there are new songs to learn. This is Tuesday, so the families spend time in worship and practice. If you listen well, you might hear their music.”

Isaac stood still and listened. He could hear nothing but the horses making anxious noises for their supper and the bugs and tree frogs beginning their night songs. A clear evidence of spring, along with the fresh smell of the evening air rising up off the new pasture grass. When he left the McElroys’ farm, he never thought he would miss the country, but he wasn’t sorry to have the sounds of country in his ears again.

“I don’t hear any music,” he said after a moment.

“Oh well,” Brother Asa said. “Perhaps it is only an echo I hear in my heart. Not any real sounds coming down from the upper rooms of the family houses. You will hear the songs soon enough.”

They brushed the horses down, led them to the watering trough, and fed them grain. Brother Asa talked to them softly as he worked. At last, as once more the moon had risen to give them light, they led the animals out to a pasture.

“It’s a warm night. They will be glad to be in the open.” Brother Asa looked over at Isaac. “You have a nice touch with the animals. Perhaps that is another gift that will stand you in good stead here among the Believers.”

“I’ll do whatever you say.”

“The elders and eldresses of each family decide the duties with guidance from the Ministry. But have no worries. The work duties are rotated so no one brother is stuck in a tedious and unwelcome task overlong.”

“Family? I thought there were no families.” Isaac frowned.

“Not as families of the world. Families of Believers. It may sound odd to you now, but it will become simple in time.” Brother Asa put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Come, let us go wash the dirt of the world off our bodies. There is still much to do before we can lay our heads down on a pillow this night. And I admit my energy is ebbing.”

Isaac followed the little man along the pathway past some smaller buildings that were closed and shuttered for the night. As they came near an impressive brick building rising three stories high and with many windows indicating a number of rooms, Isaac heard the singing Brother Asa had asked him to listen for when they were at the barn. The music of many voices spilled out the open windows on the upper floor of the building, along with the flickering light of lamps or candles.

“I hear the singing now,” he said.

“Yea, a fine sound.” Brother Asa stopped in the pathway and looked up. “The sound of home.”

It didn’t sound like home to Isaac. It just sounded odd. Very odd. But oddness he was ready to embrace in order to stop the growl in his stomach. And to keep away from the gallows.

8

The minute she set eyes on the two men, Lacey knew there was something unusual about them. It was more than how they stood side by side in front of the porch dressed as alike as any pair of twins in a storybook. Brown trousers held up by black suspenders, shirts without proper collars and yet buttoned all the way up to their neck in spite of the way the sun was shining down warm on their shoulders, and then those broad-brimmed hats. Even their hair was alike. Bangs cut straight across their foreheads and long hair in the back spilling down out of their hats. But it was more than how they didn’t look much like Deacon Crutcher and other Ebenezer men who came to seek out Preacher Palmer. It was the way they stood there waiting for the preacher to invite them to speak. As if the sun had stopped sliding across the sky and they had all the time in the world.

She didn’t know they were Shakers. Not until they pushed a couple of seed packets toward Preacher Palmer and asked him if he would be willing to guide them to some of his flock’s houses that might be in need of such. They offered free packages of bean and cucumber seeds for his help.

One of the men looked to be near the age of Preacher Palmer. The other somewhat younger. Older than Lacey, but not by very many years. She stared straight at him and had to bite her tongue to keep from asking right out loud what it was like being a Shaker. She might have unloosed her tongue if they’d been alone, even though Miss Mona had taught her such direct questions were considered rude more times than not. Could be the young Shaker thought her stare rude enough without the questions, because he cast his eyes down toward the ground away from her.

Preacher Palmer had been sitting out on the porch reading his Bible since the morning sun burned off the fog. She’d even considered carrying his dinner to him come twelve o’clock, but before she got it out there, he’d come in and sat lonely at the table and ate what she put before him without complaint. Then without a word, he’d pushed back from the table and made his way back out the front door to settle in the porch rocker again.

Lacey figured he felt easier in the spirit outside. For sure she felt easier in the spirit when he was out of the house. He hadn’t thrown any more plates or given the first indication of thinking about laying his hand on her again. But the droop was still on his shoulders.

He’d carried it all through Sunday even while he was in the pulpit reading the Scripture. When he’d come back to the house after his Sunday visiting, he’d sat at the table and ate a piece of the dandelion yellow cake in total silence before he opened up his Bible and read the verses Paul wrote about it being better for a man of God not to marry. Out loud in his preacher’s voice. Lacey had no idea what he was wanting her to think. She’d been expecting him to read the verses about wives submitting to their husbands, and then he came out with those. It was all she could do to keep from saying it was a little late to shut the barn door once the horses had already got out.

They were married. Legal and proper. It didn’t much matter that they weren’t acting like most married folk. If he stuck to his word, she had till summer to worry about the cleaving part, and then now here he was talking about a man of God not marrying at all. Sometimes Preacher Palmer was more than she could figure out, and she wished Miss Mona would whisper some understanding in her ear. It was a fact Miss Mona knew Preacher Palmer inside and out.

That morning after she combed her hair, Lacey peered into the old mirror that Miss Mona had let her carry up to the attic room when she first came to live at the preacher’s house. The mirror didn’t give a true reflection. Lacey could lean a bit to the left and make her nose shorter and her chin longer. So she couldn’t be sure if the same sort of droop had fallen on her own shoulders as the preacher was wearing. She didn’t want it to. Not after she’d finally brought spring to life for Rachel. But she couldn’t deny the droop in her spirit, even if she was determined to do her best to hide it.

The Bible didn’t promise no trials. Every life had trials and tribulations. Miss Mona had often reminded Lacey that a person had to trust the Lord to hold her hand anytime she had to walk through one of those valleys.
Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

When Lacey had asked Miss Mona what it meant to be heavy laden, the woman had thought a minute before she said, “It’s like a horse loaded down with more than the beast can carry. In a way, we’re all beasts of burdens in this life at times as we collect worries and sorrows. But the Lord is willing to lift them from us. And give us rest.”

That’s what Preacher Palmer offered the two Shaker men when they climbed down from their wagon and walked up to the porch to talk to him. “Come on up and take a few minutes rest,” he said. When the men hesitated, he held up the Bible off his lap and added, “We can talk the truth of the Word. Yours against mine.”

“We have no desire to war our beliefs with yours,” the older brother said as he climbed the porch steps and sat in the only other chair. “But we’re more than ready to share that which we believe. The way of the Believers. Is that not right, Brother Jacob?”

“Yea, our truths are meant to be shared with those who want to find the true way.” The young brother perched on the edge of the porch, still with his eyes cast down and not even looking at the older brother.

“The true way.” Preacher Palmer leaned back in his chair and stared out at the yard. “Every man of God seeks that.”

Lacey had been hovering in the shadow of the doorway, and now the older brother looked straight at her. “Why don’t you tell your daughter to come out where she can hear better?”

“My daughter? She’s too young by far for talk of Bible truths,” the preacher said before he followed the Shaker man’s gaze toward Lacey. Then a dark frown swept across his face, and Lacey thought he might order the men off the porch and to be gone. But instead he closed his eyes for a brief moment and stroked the open Bible in his lap as if the touch of the Bible page could ease his anger. When he opened his eyes and looked back at the older Shaker, his frown was gone. In its place was a weary look. A heavy-laden look. “Lacey’s my wife.”

“There is much sin in the world,” the Shaker said softly.

Lacey heard his words plain enough, even though he spoke them softly, almost under his breath. She looked across at the preacher to see if he’d heard them too. He had his eyes down on the Bible, and she was about to decide he hadn’t when he raised his head to look straight at her. Not at the Shaker man.

“For all have sinned and come short of the glory of the Lord,” Preacher Palmer said. There was no doubt he was aiming those Bible words directly at her.

She didn’t deny his words. Not even in her head. Nobody in this world other than the Lord Jesus ever lived without some kind of sin sneaking into her heart. And she had plenty of them in there bouncing around right then. Wasn’t any reason trying to pretend that wasn’t true. At least to the Lord. He knew a person’s heart.

On the other hand, Lacey didn’t see the first need of peeling open her heart to show these two odd Shaker men how some bad seeds were taking root there. Or to show Preacher Palmer either. That was weeding out that she had to do on her knees beside her bed in the quiet of the night. Trouble was that lately, ever since Miss Mona had passed, the weeds seemed to keep sprouting fresh with the first light of morning.

Lacey had hoped it would be different on this Monday after she’d opened her eyes to the dandelions of spring, but that morning as she’d fried the preacher’s eggs, she’d still felt burdened down with the years of living as Mrs. Elwood Palmer stretching out without end in front of her eyes. She’d talked stern to herself. A person didn’t have to wallow in discontent. Not with spring in the air. Not with a little child looking to her for love.

Once the preacher left the table to find his Bible reading spot out on the porch, she had let Rachel eat a piece of the spring cake for breakfast with her bacon. Rachel had been hopping around happy as a little bird ever since, begging for Maddie stories and making up silly rhymes while they cleaned the kitchen and did the wash. That was what Lacey needed to think on. Rachel and her need for the sunshine of spring after the sadness of the winter.

She aimed to keep that spring alive for Rachel even if the preacher did preach condemnation at her. She let her eyes slide over to the Shaker man there not an arm’s length away from her on the porch and expected his eyes to visit the same disapproval on her. But the man’s eyes held nothing but kindness in spite of his words about the sin in the world that he had seemed to be directing toward her and the preacher’s marital union. Even the young Shaker looked up to give her a gentle smile. Perhaps because Rachel had come out from the kitchen to lean against Lacey’s leg and stare at the strange men with big eyes.

Lacey put her hand on the child’s back and rejoiced in the feel of her sturdy body under her cotton dress. She and Miss Mona used to pray every morning and night for Rachel to grow strong and healthy. A prayer the Lord had answered. The child rarely even had the sniffles.

“So this must be the daughter you spoke of, Brother Palmer,” the older Shaker said. He looked directly at Rachel. “What’s your name?”

When she just stared at him without speaking, he went on. “Perhaps it would be well for me to let you know who I am first. Forrest Carson here to make your acquaintance this fine afternoon, along with my brother Jacob Baylor.”

He made a motion with his hand toward the young brother whose smile hadn’t faded. It made him look even younger. And again Lacey had to bite her lip to keep from asking more questions than she ought. Her curiosity was no reason to give cause for the preacher to complain about her behavior in front of the strangers.

When the silence stretched and began to twang a bit in the air, he went on. “We’re from the Shaker village not so many miles from here. Harmony Hill. We’ve come to offer our fine seeds to those who might not get to a store until after prime planting time. Our seeds are pledged to grow and produce bountifully if planted in good soil. They are just the same as the ones we plant in our own gardens to feed more than three hundred brothers and sisters.”

“Three hundred?” The preacher stared across the porch at the Shaker. “That’s a goodly number.”

“Many have come to us seeking peace and spiritual rest.”

“As they do here at Ebenezer Baptist,” Preacher Palmer put in as though they had entered some sort of competition of numbers. A competition the preacher had lost before he opened his mouth. The church had never sheltered more than fifty souls at one time since Lacey had known anything about it.

“Yea,” Forrest said as he looked directly over at the preacher. “Many seek but few find such peace in the world.” His face stayed gentle and kind, but his words seemed to be yanking the rug out from under Preacher Palmer’s feet. “I sense you know the truth of that. Even as you search the Scripture for such peace right now.”

The preacher’s eyes narrowed and his mouth pursed up in a tight circle, as if considering what words would be perfect for putting the visitor in his place or propelling him off the porch to be on his way in short order. Lacey had seen him look such many times in the pulpit before pronouncing some judgment of the Lord in a sermon. But then the righteous anger visibly slid away from him as he looked down and caressed the pages of his Bible again. His voice speaking the Scripture words was calm and quiet. “And into whatsoever house ye enter, first say, ‘Peace be to this house.’”

“Would that it could ever be so in houses of the world,” the Shaker man said. “As it is in our village.”

A very unpeaceful air crept up on the porch to poke at Lacey, even though the Shaker men appeared unaffected by it. Lacey decided it was time enough to stop dwelling on peace or the lack of it and think on more practical things like slaking the men’s thirst and planting garden seed. She spoke up.

“I’m Lacey and this is Rachel,” she said, as if the Shaker man had only just asked the child’s name. “We’ll bring you out some water.”

The Shaker man named Forrest followed her lead. “Rachel is a fine name and we’d appreciate a drink, Mrs. Palmer. The sun has been warm on our journey today.”

Lacey smiled toward him before she turned back to the kitchen with Rachel still clinging to her apron. Behind her, she heard the Shaker ask, “Do you have other children besides young Rachel?”

“No. No children at all. Not even that child. The girl was left on our doorstep as a babe. We could do no less than take her in.”

“An orphan child then?” the younger Shaker said.

“More likely a child of sin. The result of immoral living.”

Lacey hurried Rachel on toward the kitchen, hoping the little girl’s ears hadn’t been as attentive to the talk out on the porch as Lacey’s. She pushed some words out to cover the echo of the preacher’s words. “Do you think we should offer them some of our spring cake?” she asked Rachel as she lifted a tray down off the shelf and set three glasses on it.

Rachel looked toward the pie safe that held the remains of the cake. “They didn’t look hungry.”