The Face of Heaven (31 page)

“You look a little tired.”

“I suppose my legs don’t have the energy I require at this stage of my recovery. Could we sit on that bench there?”

Nathaniel frowned. “You’ll take a breeze off the Potomac on that one.”

“I need a breeze. I’m overheating in all the clothes you made me bundle up in.” Her blue eyes flashed in the sunlight and she put a gloved hand to his face. “It’s all right, dear. I’m not going to fall to pieces on you. Bear in mind God did not fashion me out of porcelain.”

“You’ve been very ill—”

“But the danger has passed. The doctor says so. Even Miss Sharon agrees that I’m almost myself again.”

“I’ve seen soldiers with a sickness who appear to get well and I’ve
watched them rush about with an astonishing burst of strength. Then they’ve suddenly dropped dead.”

Lyndel laughed as she settled herself on the bench. “Thank you for your encouraging words, my dear. They certainly refresh my flagging spirits.”

“Well—”

“Just hold me and I will be all right. I promise.”

Lyndel took one of his hands in both of hers and leaned against his shoulder with its bright gold second lieutenant’s epaulet. She wore a black bonnet along with a dark navy coat and cape and a vivid red scarf Nathaniel had purchased for her. At first she had balked at putting the scarf around her throat because it wasn’t plain. But then she considered that her church and family had cut her off and Nathaniel was trying to show the love to her they could not and would not. So she had wound it about her neck and made Nathaniel’s eyes gleam. He bent and kissed her quickly on the lips while they were still in the hall of the Palmer house and no one else was nearby. She put a hand on the back of his head and kept him close, prolonging the kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” she had told him.

Now, seated on the bench by the Potomac, she felt completely loved and completely safe. God and Nathaniel would guard her from all harm and any further illness. The fear she had first experienced of never regaining the full use of her mind or memory was gone as each day brought more experiences back to her. Nathaniel’s love and affection was so passionate and so abundant it seemed to her she was constantly wrapped in some sort of spiritual Amish quilt that would keep her warm regardless of the winds and rough weather of life. The cannons and armies were far in the distance and she hadn’t tended a wounded soldier for months, so it seemed the conflict didn’t exist. It was as if Richmond and Washington were at peace and all warfare had ended.

Steamers puffed their dark smoke into the sunshine and sailboats glistened as they spread their canvas. She watched soldiers load and unload supplies at the docks. Men rowed back and forth from ship to shore, their oars making small white splashes in the blue water. Gulls swung in loops over the harbor and cried the rough cry Lyndel loved.
The scent of tar from the pilings made her close her eyes and breathe in as deeply as she could.

I am alive and in love. Thank God, oh, thank God.

Several families of African-Americans walked off a steamer with various bags and bundles, squinting in the spring light. For the longest time the children stayed close to their mothers. Then one of the girls, her long hair tightly braided, saw something on the wharf and raced after it. Soon all seven of them were chasing what Lyndel couldn’t see. A mother and father laughed, and laughed fully, as they watched the boys and girls run.

“Freedom, Nathaniel,” she said softly. “This is what you’re fighting for. It’s why we’ve left our church and our home. But not our God.”

Nathaniel’s smile was weak. “They make a pretty picture. But will they find their freedom here? Or more of what they left behind in Virginia and South Carolina?”

“Davey told me about your conversation. And your sermon. We can’t change everyone’s minds, Nathaniel. We say and do what we think is right. Some people join us. Others ignore us or despise us. I nurse. You soldier. We both pray. That’s all we can do to change our little corner of the world. But God is with us.”

“Your father and mine wouldn’t agree with you.”

“We are Amish. Regardless of what they say at the Amish community in Elizabethtown. And what matters is we both believe in Jesus Christ.”

“Lyndel, our people will not call me Amish again until I lay down my musket and bayonet and come back to them on my knees saying I was wrong.” He turned his head to look at her. “I can never do that. I believe I’m right to fight against slavery. How can I ever honestly repent of what I am doing?”

“You’re not going to repent. They may cut us off, but God will never do that to us. There are plenty of Christians who are fighting on both sides. We think they’re wrong and they think we’re wrong. But God loves all of us despite our errors and sins. You don’t have to be Amish to be a Christian. And our people’s way of understanding what it means to be Amish isn’t the only way.” She smiled at him with as much strength
as he’d seen since her illness. “We can start our own Amish church on the other side of Elizabethtown. We can call ourselves the King Amish.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’m serious. Others have done it. You know yourself there are many different Amish churches.”

“We will have our own farm?”

“Our own farm. And you will be the region’s farrier. People will come from miles around for your services.”

Nathaniel watched a warship spread all its sails and head south on the Potomac. For some reason all its cannon had been run out. He kept his eye on it for a few minutes. Neither he nor Lyndel spoke. Then he leaned his head back and gazed at three white clouds moving slowly.

“Our parents won’t come to have me shoe their horses,” he finally said.

She gripped his hand tightly. “No. But there will be others who will be like parents to us. You’ll see.”

“You say that so easily.”

“I say it quickly because it’s not easy to say. But I’ve turned over these matters a great deal since I began to think straight after my illness. We can’t spend our lives waiting for our parents to choose us over their religion. We can only carry on and welcome them with open arms if they should ever decide to cross the threshold of our home.”

“Our home.” He smiled at her. “You make it sound like we’re already married.”

She laughed. “Oh, I know, I’m just talking—who knows when the war will be over, but we need to look ahead and think about where we will live since we can’t go back to the Amish community in Elizabethtown again—”

“I wish we wouldn’t wait.”

“Wouldn’t wait for what?”

“To be married. It’s quiet now before the summer campaigns begin—I’m an officer, you could join me at Belle Plain, see more of your brother as well, we would have a month together, truly together, perhaps more if the spring rains are heavy—”

Lyndel sat up and faced him, her eyes a deep sea blue. “Nathaniel King, what are you saying? Are you proposing to me?”

Nathaniel struggled for his words. “
Ja,
I guess,
ja—
I don’t see the point in waiting for three or four years when the war might be over or might yet be dragging on—why can’t I hold you in my arms now, take care of you as you grow stronger? You could work at the field hospital in Belle Plain…every day there are soldiers who are ill and some of the sickness is serious and it’s often hours before they can be transported to Washington by steamboat—”

Lyndel put her white-gloved hand to his mouth. “Shh. I don’t need to hear your courtroom argument. Just ask me what you want to ask me.”

“Well, I…” Nathaniel stopped talking, looked at her and suddenly took her face in both his hands. “I love you. I so wish you would agree to be my wife forever.”

Lyndel threw her arms around his neck. “Oh,
ja
! Of course, I will.” She kissed him with such a surge of energy that she knocked his head back against the wood of the bench. Then she laughed and drew him forward and kissed him again, oblivious to soldiers and citizens walking past and glancing their way. “I pray to God there will be buckets and buckets of rain and that the army will not move out of their winter camp for another six months.”

20

T
he wedding took place on Sunday, March 29th, just a few days after Nathaniel proposed. The day began with a heavy rain that eventually dropped off to a mist that fell like silk on Lyndel’s hands. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to it.

It is like a gentle baptism. Thank you, my God, thank you, my Friend.

By the time she was standing on a knoll among spring trees at Belle Plain, looking over the chaplain’s head at the silver Potomac, the silky mist had melted to soft blue skies and round white clouds. A breeze turned the young green leaves first one way and then the other and moved like Nathaniel’s hand down her face. Looking at her, he smiled, sunburned and handsome in a new black hat with a tall ostrich plume and a new blue coat and pants the quartermaster had ordered him to don. One of the great surprises during the flurry of the days leading up to the ceremony was the fact the new uniform fit and was neither too tight nor too large.

“A miracle,” grunted Captain Hanson as he brushed off Nathaniel’s uniform before the service and polished his sword. “You’ll have me believing the Almighty is taking a personal interest in your affairs, Lieutenant.”

It wouldn’t do to have Nathaniel dressed for a cathedral while his best man, Levi, looked as if he had just fought a third battle at Manassas, so the quartermaster was besieged by platoon and company to come up with something equally miraculous for the young soldier. He growled he had done enough and disappeared into his stack of stores
until a group of officers’ wives swooped down and refused to leave until something could be done. A new set of blues surfaced for Levi that needed a bit of work with a needle and thread, as well as a black hat that was missing its feather. A black plume was found, not from an ostrich but an eagle. Levi didn’t mind the change.

Lyndel had caused the greatest problem because she objected to being married in white. The Amish tradition put brides in plain dresses that they could work in and be buried in. Yet Lyndel’s dresses from Lancaster County were beginning to look as tattered as Nathaniel’s old uniform, and Morganne, her maid of honor, insisted that if the groom had to wear a new set of clothes so did the bride. Lyndel argued for a dress that looked at home milking the cows, but the women of the regiment overruled her by providing her with a simple gown of white silk purchased in Boston and brought to the door of the small cabin she shared with Morganne on Saturday evening.

It was obvious to Lyndel, looking at the harried but triumphant faces of the five women standing in her doorway, that they had gone to a great deal of effort to get to Boston and return in time, having only one of her old Elizabethtown dresses to work with for measurements. She took the gown from their hands and thanked them, still uncertain, but showing them only her smile and, as Morganne put it a few minutes later, her grace.

“Did you hear how they coaxed the tailor to sew my dress in less than a day?” she asked her friend afterward.

“I did.”

Lyndel had held the gown at arm’s length. “I feel guilty about this.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t earn it.”

“Do you have difficulty accepting gifts, my dear?”

“No…I…may have trouble with extravagant gifts…but it’s also that this dress is so far from being Amish…”

Morganne lit the lamp that sat on a cracker box. “You told me you and Nathaniel were going to become a new sort of Amish.”

“We are. Still…I can’t reconcile this with the beliefs I hold in my heart.” The lamplight made the dress shimmer as it ran through her
hands. “Oh,” she said, taken by the beauty and sparkle of the silk. She allowed herself to imagine for a moment how it might feel on her and how it might look to Nathaniel.

“What will he think of me if I wear this?” she asked out loud.

Morganne smiled. “That’s easy. He’ll think how blessed he is to be marrying a woman of such rare beauty. You’ll turn his head for the rest of your life.”

So she wore the dress. The officers’ wives were happy, Morganne was happy, and as Nathaniel gazed at her while the chaplain spoke, the sun sliding out from a cloud and lighting the silk and the Potomac, it was clear to Lyndel that her man was amazed and delighted. As she spoke the vows that made him her husband and her his wife she finally relaxed into the gown and let it be one of the many gifts of a day laden with wonder.