A Place in His Heart (7 page)

January 2, 1631

Baldy stood hitched to the wagon. A second message, sent early that morning, requested Barnabas bring Joseph and Benjamin with him for a small repast at the Langtons' following church services. Though long ago discontent with the formalities of the Church of England, Barnabas was still present every Sunday morning. To not attend would bring suspicion with serious repercussions, so he conformed. But the secret meetings held on Wednesday nights in homes, where they worshiped and studied the Bible void of the pageantry, he considered his church.

He lifted the boys into the back of the wagon. “You will like the Langtons. You know Mistress Fanning, of course, and her son Joshua will be there today. And Mr. Langton has all manner of animals, but mostly sheep and horses.”

“Do they have babies?” Benjamin bounced as his father took a heavy blanket from beneath the seat and wrapped it around both boys.

“Hold still.” Barnabas chuckled. “Do you mean the sheep
and horses? They do, though they are quite big now. Mayhap more babies in the spring. There now, are you warm enough?”

Joseph pulled the blanket higher. “Yes, Father. Do you think Joshua will want to play with me?”

“Oh, yes, I do. I think you will have a fine time.”

“I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. But, Father, I do hope you know that I'm happy with just you and Benjamin.”

He placed his large hand on the top of Joseph's head, turning it so his son looked into his eyes. “Happy? Really? You have not acted very happy, and you have very good reason to not be so happy. That is all right, truly. But I hope to make things better for you and Benjamin. Remember to watch your manners. I do not wish to discipline you again in Miss Langton's presence.”

Joseph rolled his eyes and Barnabas tousled his son's thick hair.

Certainly the request to bring his family was a good sign that Mr. Langton had decided in his favor and the doubt that weighed heavy the night before lifted. He would need to make arrangements with his parents to care for the boys on the days he spent courting Mary. The good women of the town liked to talk. No, he would not be asking for their help. Mayhap his mother would come to stay with them for a time. Yet another reason for a short courtship.

After the service, he led the boys to Ann's grave, behind the church. It sat at the top of a hill, the blue slate looking cold and bare. He wished there were flowers along the path to pick, but the blooms were long spent. Even the seedpods were empty.

He held the boys close. The slate would last through the centuries, and the words he'd carved upon it he hoped would tell generations to come of the remarkable woman he loved so much.

He loosened his grip and knelt down. Touching the stone,
he remembered his promise to her. He would take care of their sons. He would.

Large, lacy snowflakes began to fall from the sky, sifting down like fluffy feathers settling about their shoulders. He brushed the white fluff from his Sunday suit and pulled the black wool doublet close. He hurried to place Joseph and Benjamin back in the wagon. Pulling the blanket tight about them, he kept them warm and safe.

Mary loved her dresses, and most days she did not have a quandary over what to wear. But Mr. Horton's opinion mattered to her, so she pulled gown after gown from her wardrobe. Running her fingers across the fabric, she studied the garnishing trims and textures of her brocade and silks.

From the casement window she could see the gray clouds quickly moving in from the west. The air was cold and damp, a storm on the way, no doubt. The dark green wool, with a simple white linen collar, should be suitable. She preferred the delicate lace collars and shiny fabric of a satin, but she did not want to appear frivolous on this day.

In church the urge to look across to the men's side, where she knew Mr. Horton would be sitting with his boys, nearly overcame her. But she folded her hands and kept her eyes toward Reverend Barton, though to actually listen to his sermon was just too much.

Papa had not mentioned Mr. Horton again, beyond telling her that he and his sons would be joining them after church. Lizzie gave her the details, explaining that after she went upstairs, following Mr. Horton's visit, Papa relented and sent a message to Mr. Horton. His invitation included the baker's sons.

As they walked home after church, Mary skipped ahead with Ruth and Joshua. As huge snowflakes began to fall from the sky, she twirled about. “Ruth . . . Joshua . . . angel's tears!”

“That's what Mama calls them, Aunt Mary.” Joshua looked to Ruth and she nodded in agreement.

“I know. When we were little, our mother, your grandmama, told us about the angel's tears. She said when angels are sad, they cry great torrents of tears, and we have rain. But when they are happy, so very happy, the tears come down all fluffy and white, dancing about on the wind. An angel is crying tears of joy today, I am certain.”

She took their hands in hers and together they entered the house. Tantalizing smells greeted them, a promise of a delicious meal prepared by Cook. Mary waited for her sister, Zeke, and Papa to come in, and then ran up the stairs. She needed a moment to consider what she might say to Mr. Horton.
I am
honored for your consideration?
Oh, no.
I am pleased we
shall be courting?
How silly it all sounded. Perhaps she could not prepare and needed to take it a word at a time. Yes. Word by word.

She held her looking glass and pressed her lips together firmly. A cherry hue sprang up. She studied her reflection. Might he kiss her? The warmth flooded her cheeks before she saw the crimson in her reflection. Oh goodness, such thoughts! Not likely, and most certainly he would have more decorum, even if he felt so inclined. Still . . .

A commotion downstairs brought her back from her reverie and she placed the mirror on the bed table. Mr. Horton had arrived, and if she could believe the chatter reverberating up the stairwell, the children were excited to see each other. Smoothing her skirt, she started down. Halfway, Lizzie met her and the two embraced.

They descended the stairs arm in arm. Mr. Horton looked up, and as Mary arrived at the landing, he offered his hand. She took it and leaned into a slight curtsey. “Mr. Horton, 'tis a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon.”

“Ah, indeed, it is.” He gave a gentle squeeze and slowly released her hand, turning to Mr. Langton. “Thank you, sir, for asking me to bring the children. I can see how much they enjoy each other.”

“'Tis good for your boys to be involved with—ah, but I have a small sitting room off the parlor. Shall we let the ladies settle the children and we men adjourn for a chat?” He looked from Mr. Horton to Zeke, and the three retreated.

Mary looked to Lizzie. “Do you think Papa will tell Mr. Horton of his decision? Now?”

Her sister laughed. “Your eyes are as big as saucers. You are not frightened, are you? This is what you begged Father for, is it not?”

“Oh, yes. But I cannot explain what I feel inside. Hopeful and scared all at once. Do I sound silly? Is that how you felt when Zeke asked to court you?”

“'Tis not silly and yes, dear sister, 'tis exactly how I felt. And look how beautifully everything turned out.”

“You always know what to tell me, Lizzie. What would I ever do without you?” She gave her a big hug as Rachel tugged at her skirt. “Come here, little one. Let your auntie hold you.”

She tried to distract herself with the children, but her thoughts were on the men in the other room. Every time she looked at Joseph, she was reminded of how much he was like his father. He was playing well with Joshua, but she noticed he preferred to ignore her.

Lizzie nodded toward him. “Joseph is old enough that he will
most likely avoid you, rather than act out, I believe. His father is strict and insists on good manners, so I don't think he would openly be unpleasant to you.”

“Do you think he will warm to me though, in time? Perhaps after the wedding, he will relax and know that I'm nothing to be dreaded.” She wiggled her brow at her sister with a smile.

“Listen to you—you don't even know what the men are agreeing to and you are planning the wedding. Such a headstrong girl you are. 'Tis why I love you so much, I am sure.”

Their laughter was interrupted by Cook, who announced dinner.

As everyone gathered again at the table, Mary knew she would be too excited—distressed?—to eat much. She could not tell from Papa's or Mr. Horton's face what the decision was, but Zeke gave it all away in his broad smile and eyes that danced. He winked at her too, when he noticed her looking at him. Why didn't they just come right out and tell her? She certainly was half of the equation, was she not?

Papa led grace, then rose and stood behind his chair. “I would like you all to know I have given Mr. Horton permission to court Mary. My daughter's happiness and her security are most important to me, and I find that Mr. Horton can assure me that he will provide for her. Mary, my girl, you give me much joy.” His eyes watered, but he cleared his throat to continue. “Mr. Horton, please call me John.” He extended his hand.

Her heart pounded as the two men clasped hands with a shake.

“Thank you, John. And, of course, I wish you to call me Barnabas. I am honored, sir, and look forward to getting to know you and your daughter over the next weeks.” He looked at Mary, a smile creasing his face. “And so we begin.”

The afternoon stretched out as the children made a trek out to the barn with Grandpapa Langton to visit the animals. Barnabas fretted over the cold air on the children, but John assured him the barn would be warm.

Lizzie and Mary sat opposite Zeke and Barnabas next to the fire, engaging in light conversation and a bit of local gossip.

Snow accumulation mounted and goodbyes could not be delayed any longer. Mary walked with the Hortons to the door, and her family trailed behind them. Joseph made plans to see Joshua again, and Ruth had to be told once again to put Benjamin down. He wasn't a baby anymore and too big to be carried. They all laughed as she rolled her eyes but eased him gently to the floor.

Mary handed Joseph his coat and bent to bundle Benjamin in his. As she wrapped a neck cloth about him, she told the boys her story of the snowflakes. “My mother loved the snow. She would run out and twirl when the flakes began to fall. She said when it rained, it was angels crying, but when it changed to snow, the angels smiled. The snowflakes are angels' happy tears and they coat the world in beauty.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “She could have gotten sick out there in the snow.”

Barnabas turned and took her hand in his. “The snow is beautiful indeed, Mary. Your father suggests I return Tuesday, after the shop closes, for an evening of checkers or mayhap chess. Is that something you would favor?”

There was safety in his question. He would not rush events if she were uncomfortable. But when he raised her hand and grazed it with his lips, she knew Tuesday would not be soon enough.

As Zeke dressed the children for the walk home, Mary and Lizzie bounded up the stairs, shoulder to shoulder, whispering
and giggling all of the way. “He kissed me, Lizzie—I did not think he would kiss me.”

“Oh, goodness, Mary. He barely touched your hand.” She held her sides as she stifled her laugh.

“No, Lizzie, I felt it. His lips are so warm and soft. It was a kiss.”

“If you must declare it a kiss, so be it. But Tuesday! 'Tis just two days away. So soon. Does it not concern you?”

“I wish it were tomorrow. I think he wants to move with haste into marriage, and Lizzie, my mind is made up, so why should we wait?”

“He has told you he loves you, has he not?”

She looked away. “It depends on what you mean by that.”

“Just that, Mary. Has he told you he loves you?”

“Nay, but I wouldn't want him to say it if he does not feel it. I know 'tis important to him right now to have a mother for Joseph and Benjamin. Perhaps love will come someday. You told me in London that people often marry and that love comes later. And remember, you said to give him time.”