Longings of the Heart (27 page)

“Well, we’re family, Thomas. I see you as my son. I’d defend you with my life.”

“Ye would?”

“Yes.”

Thomas took a bite of his bread and then a bite of cheese. “And what ’bout Mrs. Bradshaw? I think she hates me.”

“Of course she doesn’t.”

“But she doesn’t want me ’ere. She never will. It’s something she can’t change.”

“That’s not true. I’ll admit you were a surprise to her. And she’s not used to being a mother, not yet, but she’ll come ’round.”

“How can ye know that?”

“Because she’s got a good heart, and her life belongs to the Lord.” He leaned over and ruffled Thomas’s blond hair. “We’re your family now. You’ve no need to worry, you’ll see.”

19

Hannah walked down the steps of the Athertons’ home and headed to the wagon. Just as she prepared to climb onto the seat, she spotted Lydia. She carried a basket of clean clothes against her hip and walked toward the end of the house.

Hannah rested a hand on the wheel and pondered what to do. The right thing would be to mend the relationship. God’s Word was clear about that.

Mrs. Atherton is right. I need to talk to her.
Hannah watched as Lydia disappeared around the end of the house.
What can
I say?
Although less angry, Hannah still felt the hurt of what Lydia had done, but she also missed her friend.
I need to forgive
her and to tell her so.

Until Deidre had given away her past, Hannah had always liked Lydia’s recklessness; she’d found it endearing. She admired her lack of pretense.
She couldn’t have known what would happen
when she told Deidre.

Hannah took a deep breath. “All right, then. It’s time.” Although the words were meant to boost her courage, they had little effect. Even in the heat, she nearly shivered with trepidation. What if she were too late? Lydia wouldn’t necessarily forgive her harshness and her bitterness. Even though it was

Lydia who had made a mistake, it was Hannah who had purposely been unforgiving.

When Hannah rounded the corner of the house, Lydia had her back to her. She folded the waist of a pair of underdrawers over the line and secured it with a wooden pin. She reached into the basket, took out an identical pair, and did the same.

She even hangs laundry in a capable way.
The last of Hannah’s anger faded and suddenly all she could see was her own sin— her unfair judgment of a friend and lack of forgiveness.

Lydia bent and reached for something else in the basket. “Lydia,” Hannah said, her voice barely audible.

Lydia didn’t respond. Instead she lifted out a crinoline and placed it over the wire.

Hannah cleared her throat and tried again. “Lydia.”

Holding the crinoline in her hands, Lydia turned. Her eyes locked with Hannah’s. Silence cut the air between them. Finally, Lydia said a stiff “Hello.”

Hannah took a step toward her. “I was hoping we might talk.”

Lydia turned back to her work, hanging the crinoline alongside the underdrawers, then lifted an underskirt out of the basket. “I thought we had nothing to say to each other, that our friendship was beyond saving.” Her tone was indifferent.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry. I want us to be friends. I miss you.”

Lydia hesitated, but then secured the underskirt to the line. When it was in place, she kept her hands on the line.

Hannah moved closer. “I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. And I’ve been utterly cruel.” She took another step. “Can
you
forgive me?”

Lydia turned and faced Hannah. Her eyes brimmed with

tears. She compressed her lips, then smiled tremulously. “Of course I forgive ye.”

The two friends embraced. Hannah could barely contain her sorrow and her joy, which spilled over in tears. She hugged Lydia tightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” She stepped back. “I’m truly sorry.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Lydia said. “All of this is my fault. If I’d just kept my mouth closed. I wish there were some way to take back my words. I never meant any harm.”

“I know that. It’s just that my hurt got in the way of my intellect. I know you’re a true friend, the dearest a person could have.”

They hugged again.

Lydia wiped away tears and smiled. “After I finish hanging these clothes, can ye join me for lunch?”

“I’d like that.”

Hannah felt comfortable sitting at the table in the small cottage she and Lydia had once shared. “It feels good to be here. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed you. Everyone needs a good friend.”

“I’ve missed ye too. I’ve been lonely.”

“There’s been no one to share my thoughts with, except for John, of course. But he’s a man and although he tries . . . well, he’s a man.”

Both of them laughed.

Still chuckling, Hannah said, “He truly doesn’t care a bit about my sewing projects or new recipes, although I’ve tried talking to him about them. And I don’t dare speak to him about other female topics.”

Lydia chuckled. “I should say not.” She set cups on the table. “Would ye like some sugar?”

“Are you sure you’ve enough to spare?”

“Mrs. Atherton sees to it that we have sugar.” She set a bowl of it on the table.

Hannah chose a small chunk and stirred it into her tea. She sipped and looked out the window. “It feels like another life when I last sat in this place.” Suddenly overwhelmed at what she’d nearly lost, Hannah gazed at Lydia and said, “I’ve felt adrift without you. I’ve been so foolish.”

“Guess we both have.” Lydia stirred her tea absently. “I know that I tried to tell ye exactly what happened with Deidre, but I’d like to explain it more now that—”

“You don’t have to. I know you thought you were helping. Deidre did seem like someone you could trust, at least to most people. Although I must admit, I never liked her.”

“Thought I was a decent judge of character, but clearly I’m not. Is she still giving ye trouble?”

“Not recently, but I’ve no certainty that she won’t. Most likely she’ll be back with her hand extended. She’s successfully robbed us of two ewes, a lamb, a sow, food staples—”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Deidre was looking for a trusting soul and she found you.” Hannah reached across the table and patted Lydia’s arm. “You’re kind. And she could see that.”

Lydia furrowed her forehead. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know that anyone can. Catharine’s convinced she’ll continue with her evil deeds. She wants to discharge her.”

“As she should.”

“I asked her not to, and she said she’d give it some thought.”

“Why, Hannah? After what she’s done, she doesn’t deserve to work for fine people like the Athertons.”

“I agree, but if Catharine dismisses her, she’ll only become worse. I don’t know that I’m ready for what may come.”

“Well, I’ll tell her then. She’s a no-good.”

“Please don’t—not a word. John and I will see to her . . . somehow.”

“What are ye going to do?”

Hannah picked up her spoon and stirred her tea again, trying to dissolve the last grains of sugar. “I’m very close to telling her she’ll not receive anything more. I’m just afraid it will mean the end of things for John and me here in Parramatta.”

“But if ye don’t, she’ll just go on and on, demanding things from ye. It will never end.”

“You’re probably right. And I know I ought to speak to the elders myself, tell them the truth. Perhaps they’d be merciful.”

“Reverend Taylor is a kind man, and so are the others. I can’t see them penalizing ye too terribly.”

“They may feel they have no choice, especially if Scripture calls for it.”

Lydia leaned on her elbows. “I think ye need to stand up to her. And let God see to the rest.”

Hannah took a drink of her tea. “When I think about what could happen . . . I absolutely quake inside. What will become of John and me? We could be ruined.” She stood and walked to the window. “Still, I know it’s time to put an end to her thievery.” She looked back at Lydia. “Catharine thinks she’d be too frightened to speak up because she’d ruin her own reputation along with mine.”

“That’s possible.” Lydia sat back in her chair. “How is Thomas? Is he getting on all right?”

Hannah returned to her place across from Lydia. “He and John are doing quite well. But he and I . . . well . . . we’ve our differences. He doesn’t much like me.”

“How could he not?”

“I’ve not been a good mother to him. But I’m going to do better. We’ve had some difficulties, but I’m the only mum he’s got. I’m going to do my best by him. I just hope it’s not too late.”

“All things work together for good. Have faith.”

Hannah sighed. “Pray for us.”

Hannah knelt beside Thomas’s bed while John prayed. She’d sensed something different between the two ever since she’d returned that afternoon. They seemed very much like father and son. If only she felt like a mother.

When John finished, he stood, then bent over the bed and smoothed back the lad’s blond hair. “Good night, Son.”

“Good night, sir.” Thomas snuggled down.

“Good night, Thomas,” Hannah said.

He mumbled something unintelligible.

Feeling wounded, Hannah allowed John to steer her toward the stairway leading down from the loft. “Can I get you your pipe?” she asked as John settled into a chair at the table.

“Thank you.”

John had only recently taken up smoking. Hannah didn’t mind. She liked the aroma. She filled the pipe with tobacco and tapped it down. Handing it to John, she lit a stick in the embers in the hearth and held it to the bowl while John puffed. The tobacco glowed red and smoke rose into the air.

John moved the pipe to the corner of his mouth and said, “Thank you, luv.”

Hannah tossed the stick into the hearth, then moved to a rocker and picked up a sewing basket she kept beside it. Taking out a pair of socks she’d been mending, she went to work darning. John continued cleaning his musket.

“I’ll be glad when this hot spell passes,” Hannah said. “I prefer the weather cooler and a cheery fire burning in the hearth. And the fire helps light the house.”

John set the gun on the table. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll open the door. It might allow a breeze inside.” He lifted the latch and swung it open. Even in the darkness the loud buzz of cicadas filled the night.

John returned to the table. “The heat’s hard on the sheep. Shearing should help.”

“Do you have anyone to assist you?”

“I’ve a couple of shearers coming in. We’ll be fine. I’m a bit worried about the stream, though. It’s down some.” He removed a bolt from the musket, and the stock fell away from the barrel. He set them both on the table.

“I spoke to Lydia today.” Hannah looked up to see John’s response.

“You did? And . . . ?”

“It went well.” Hannah glanced up at the loft and quieted her voice. “After speaking to Catharine, I saw Lydia and knew it was time to mend our differences. I don’t know how I allowed myself to remain so distant. She’s such a good friend. Sometimes my stubbornness is a worry.”

John smiled at her. “You can be stubborn, that’s true.”

“Catharine had some wise words as well.”

“Oh?”

“She helped me see what a hurting lad Thomas is and how I’ve been overly sensitive to his rebuffs. She also had some insight . . . into me. I may be holding back because I’m afraid that loving him means I believe I won’t have any of my own children. It sounds a bit strange, but she may have something.” She smiled at John. “I think I’ll be a better mum to him after this.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Hannah.” John’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it held conviction.

Hannah focused on tying off the thread. “Things seem different between you and Thomas. Did something happen today?”

“Not much really. We worked together and had a bit of picnic down at the river. While we were there, a snake came upon us.”

“Was it a dangerous type?”

“Yes. But not to worry. I killed it.”

“I hate snakes.”

“If we’re to live here, we’d best get used to them.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.” She tied off the thread. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened?”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

“I don’t need to be protected.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Anyway, I’ve felt a change coming on with Thomas, and after the incident with the snake, he seemed able to let go of his distrust. We had a fine day.” John smiled. “I feel I’ve a son.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. I think we’ve made it through the worst of things. And we’ve only good days ahead.”

Hannah bent to her work and simply nodded. She wasn’t so certain about how things would be for her and Thomas, but perhaps if he and John were getting on well, it would be better for her too. “You’re a good father to him.”

“I hope to be.” Using a rod, John pushed a piece of cloth into the musket barrel. “Did I detect a difference in your feelings for Thomas also?”

“I’d like to think so. Perhaps I understand him better now and can see how lucky I am to have him. I trust that love will come. I’m more determined than ever to be a real mum to him.”

“You will be.”