The Gifted (42 page)

“And what ways are you having to learn?” Jessamine asked as she pulled the gown over her head. “To be a servant?”

“I was doing only the bidding of others at the Shaker town. Now I still must do the bidding of others, but at least here I am paid. And at the end of the season Jimmy and I are going to marry. Between the two of us working here, we will have a bit of money for a start.”

“So you found him.”

“I found him.” Abigail’s face took on a happy glow. “He had not forgotten me.”

“I’m glad for you. You might be the princess in the story instead of me.”

“If love makes one a princess, you could be right.” Abigail picked up the dress again and waltzed it over to Jessamine. Then she was all business. “But we must hurry and transform you into the actual princess before your father knocks on the door. I would not want him to be displeased with my service. You must let me help you into your dress.”

So she held up her arms and let Abigail wrap petticoats around her waist and then drop the dress down over them. She stood like a post while the girl buttoned and tied and straightened. Her hair was hastily arranged and pinned away from her face. When Abigail worked some curls loose to let fall around her face, Jessamine lost patience.

“My Shaker cap was much easier and faster.” She pushed Abigail’s hands away from her head. “It is only hair and no reason for such vanity. I don’t care how it looks.”

“But your father does. That handsome man you dragged in from the woods might.” Abigail grinned and raised her eyebrows as she reached back to shape another curl. “Here in the world women dress to please the eyes of the men in their lives.”

“Even princesses?”

“Especially princesses. For what other duty can a princess have than the duty of being beautiful.”

“But the beauty that matters most comes from having a beautiful soul. A loving heart. ”

“That is every word true, but in the world, in a place like the Springs, what the eye sees matters too. That’s why we have lace and ribbons and curling hair.”

When Jessamine didn’t say anything, Abigail turned loose of the strand of hair she held and leaned down to peer at her face. “Don’t look so downhearted, my sister. You have the beauty both inside and out and the world is waiting for you.”

A soft knock sounded on the door and then her father was calling her name. Abigail hurried over to open the door and Jessamine pulled on her shoes. A new day in the world awaited. And her father might have the promised pen and paper. That by itself was enough to make enduring the layers of petticoats and the scratch of prickly lace against her skin worth it. She thought fleetingly of the soft Shaker dress folded and stuck in the bottom of the bureau. Knowing it was there was a comfort to her, a connection to her sisters at Harmony Hill. To Sister Sophrena.

As she stood up to go to her father, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror again. Sister Sophrena wouldn’t recognize her. She barely recognized herself. She started to turn away quickly from this stranger staring back at her. Then she stopped as she heard Abigail greeting her father at the door. She stared straight at the girl in the mirror.

It was time she got to know her better. Maybe not a princess. She was right that a dress couldn’t make a princess any more than one stolen kiss could make a prince fall in love with her. But she was in the world, and whether she decided to embrace it or not, she did want to see it. At least for a little while.

“You look lovely, Jessamine.” Her father stepped up behind her and met her eyes in the mirror.

“Yea.” She shook her head a tiny bit. “I mean yes. I’ve never worn such dresses or peered in such large mirrors.”

“Nor wanted to from the look on your face.”

“Mirrors are not one of the things I wondered about. The closest I had to this is a still pool of water on a sunny day and that reflection was most fun for the rock one could pitch to make it dissolve into ripples.” Jessamine reached out and touched the mirror making it wobble a bit in its stand.

“Well, don’t be throwing rocks at this mirror. Superstition claims a broken mirror leads to seven years’ bad luck. Plus Dr. Hargrove would charge triple its worth to my account.” Her father laughed and then held his hand up where she could see the pen and paper he held. “But I’ll wager you have long wondered about these. Or at least wished for them.”

She forgot the mirror and the strange girl staring out of it as she took the pen and paper from him. “Can I truly write anything I want?”

“Anything. Let the words spill out. Joy. Sorrow. Love. Hate. Truth. Lies. You get to choose every word, every feeling you want to write.” He was smiling at her.

She hugged the book of paper to her and spun around in her happiness. She forgot her petticoats in the small room and Abigail had to grab the lamp before she jarred it from the table next to the chair.

Sister Sophrena Prescott

Harmony Hill Shaker Village

June 22, 1849

Dear Sister Sophrena,

The world is a surprising place. Yesterday morning I rose from my Shaker bed with no expectations other than those I had on any other day. To do my duties for the good of the Society. This morn I woke from my sleep with no idea of what to expect of the day. It seems an almost opposite world where each hour something unexpected jumps up to make me wonder. I am nearly dizzy with the wondering. I feel at sea, drifting with no familiar land in sight. Of course, as you well know, my sister, that is somewhere I have never been. On the sea. But my father of the world says he will take me to see the sea. And to see so many other wonders of the world. Wonders I never even knew to ponder on.

I do beg your forgiveness for the way I left Harmony Hill. It surely seemed sudden and impulsive. For years you have tried to cure me of such impulsiveness. The sort of unrestrained curiosity that often ended with me in trouble and out of step with my sisters.

I am truly out of step now here at White Oak Springs. Worse than out of step. Fearful to take a step for worry it will be in a wrong direction. My father says I will learn more of the world’s ways each day. He says there are no rules, but I think he has been such a part of the world that he has no vision of the rules that seem to control every action of those here at the Springs.

The man I found in the woods and brought back to the village is here, but you need not be concerned with him being a bother to me. Sister Abigail, who is also here at the Springs, tells me that Tristan Cooper is betrothed to a girl so rich she could be a princess. Money seems to matter much in the world. At the village all that mattered was doing our work faithfully and loving the Lord and our brethren and sisters. I do not see that sort of love here, or have not yet, I should say. I haven’t been in the world long and surely there will be brotherly love here.

Everyone is being very kind to me. Especially my father. He has bought me several new dresses, for he says I cannot wear my Shaker dress here. You would not recognize me on the outside, but I would hope you would still recognize my heart that remembers you with much sisterly love.

Your sister,
Jessamine

Journal Entry

Harmony Hill Village

Entered on this 22nd day of June in the year 1849

by Sister Sophrena Prescott

Friday, a good day of faithfully performing our duties here at Harmony Hill. I worked at preparing the straw for more bonnets. Come Monday, my duty will change to the sewing room since we have vital need of new dresses and shirts for the converts who have come among us in the last few weeks. I am glad to be using my talents for the good of the Society for from the time I was a child I have been able to make fine, straight stitches that hold long in a seam.

During our time of contemplation after our evening meal, Eldress Frieda brought me a letter. I recognized the writing at once as that of our former sister, Jessamine, and I cannot deny that my heart grew light with joy. Eldress Frieda said the letter had been carried here by Brother Hector who had been out trading with the world on this day. The Ministry read it at once and made the decision to allow me to receive it so that I could correspond with our former sister in hopes she will see the error of her ways and return to us.

Brother Hector reports he might have caught sight of our former sister, since he saw a lady conversing with the servant who asked Brother Hector to carry the letter here. He could not be sure it was her. He wisely does his best to keep his eyes away from those of the world as much as he can when he goes to White Oak Springs to deliver the rosewater and tonics and other items that are so in demand there. We are dutiful stewards of the blessings of the Lord and happy to make gain from the work of our hands. Brother Hector is glad to be of service by trading with the world, but he has no desire to be enticed into sin by the waywardness he sees there.

A waywardness that it seems, from the words of our former sister’s letter, may be engulfing her. But upon reading her words, we—the Ministry, Eldress Frieda, and I—feel she may be somewhat regretting her decision and casting her eyes back toward Harmony Hill. If so, the Ministry is quite willing for me to convey our readiness to have her come home. We have given our former sister much of our time and training as well as much of our love. It would be good if she were to return. And in truth, she admits the world is a baffling place. Her words do sound a bit confused with first excitement and praise for the new world she is seeing and then worry as she wonders of the rules of the world that are so unknown to her.

I will write to her early in the morning. That way the Ministry can read it and decide if I should mail it from the Postal Office or let Brother Hector take it. When he next returns to the Springs, I am told that during their busy season, they require much from us—brooms and silk handkerchiefs and as much strawberry jam as we can spare for their morning tables. The jam is especially good this season, but we must supply our own tables first.

27

All day on Friday, Tristan had wavered between one minute wishing Jessamine had stayed at the Shaker village far from his eyes, and the next, wanting to haunt her shadow so he might be near enough to have the chance to touch her. To feel the magic of her lips under his yet one more time. The kiss they’d shared had shaken his world. He had told his mother when she confronted him in the garden that nothing had changed. He lied.

Everything was changed. Everything.

And yet he could change nothing. He had made a promise to Laura. He’d made a promise to his mother. His future was ordered. The beautiful Jessamine was not part of that future. He had felt the attraction at the Shaker village, but thought it no more than a dalliance. After all, the Shakers didn’t believe in romantic love, and while Jessamine had not completely closed away the natural curiosity about love, she was a Shaker. So once he rode away from the village, he thought the temptation would end for both of them. He didn’t deny he had wanted to turn his horse around to ride back to the village that Sunday to at least tell her goodbye, but he’d kept riding toward White Oak Springs. Kept doing what had to be done for the family name. The family fortune. Trade his future to keep his mother in jewels and feathers.