Sins of a Shaker Summer (15 page)

She opened a small, square door at about shoulder level, revealing a recessed storage area, similar to the one in Rose's own retiring room. In hers she might keep a few small books, or papers, or the few letters she received from the world. Patience kept nothing in hers. Rose gazed around her in puzzlement. She'd found not a single book or journal or scrap of paper in the entire room. Nothing at all to mark Patience as an individual.

Her search had raised more questions than it answered, and Rose was all the more determined to find Patience at once. The Medicinal Herb Shop seemed the obvious place to start looking. Forgetting any need to be quiet, she flung open the retiring room door and found herself staring into an ear. The ear became a face—a scarlet face with wide eyes. A disheveled Sister Gertrude, in her summer nightgown, stood frozen in the doorway.

“I . . . Rose, I . . .” Gertrude stammered as she backed into the hallway.

Rose felt laughter bubble up in her throat, as much from relief as from amusement. She grinned, which didn't alleviate Gertrude's embarrassment, but it seemed to calm her.

“I'm sorry, Rose, truly,” Gertrude whispered. “This isn't what it seems.” She grabbed her long gray hair and began twisting it into an awkward braid.

Rose beckoned her into Patience's room and closed the door. “Patience could return at any moment, so we must be quick,” she said.

Gertrude gave a hesitant nod. “It was the heat, you see. I couldn't fall asleep, and then I heard so many doors opening and closing, and footsteps on the stairs, followed by more footsteps. It just didn't seem a normal night at all. So I decided to get up for a while. I pulled my rocking chair over to the window and started to catch up on my journal. I've been so tired lately, you know, running the kitchen in this dreadful heat, that I haven't had time to record how many jars of the new herbal jams and jellies and so forth we've finished canning, and—”

Rose arched her eyebrow a fraction to quell the flood of time-wasting details.

“Well, anyway,” Gertrude continued, “I glanced out the window now and then, and I saw her, clear as clear, in the moonlight.”

“Patience?”

“Had to be. Tall woman in a Shaker work dress and white cap, stumbling along like she was—well, I hate to say this, but it looked like she was drunk.”

Rose was puzzled. “What direction does your room face?”

“West.”

“So she couldn't have been heading for the Medicinal Herb Shop,” Rose mused. “But where . . .” A dreadful thought occurred to her. “Gertrude, she surely wasn't going to the Trustees' Office, was she?” Only brethren lived in the Trustees' Office now, including Andrew.

“Nay, she went right past it, far as I could tell.” Her brow furrowed as she remembered the scene. “It seemed as if she might be heading out toward Languor.”

“Good heavens! On foot? That's eight miles. And at
night! Why would she cut through the grass? Why not take the road? She'd be seen leaving the village just as easily either way.” Rose sighed. “I can see I won't be getting any sleep tonight. But you get back to bed, Gertrude.”

“I'm not sleepy at all,” Gertrude assured her. “I can be dressed in a minute, and I could help you look for her. I don't believe a word that woman said about you.”

“I'm grateful for that,” Rose said, as she transformed a pat on Gertrude's shoulder into a firm grip on her elbow, “but you can do the most good by getting some rest so you can run the kitchen tomorrow. We need you.” She guided Gertrude back into the hall and gave her a gentle shove toward her own retiring room. Gertrude's face reflected her disappointment, but to Rose's relief, she returned to her room without further objections. Rose had no intention of providing even more fodder for the morning's kitchen gossip, if she could help it.

As she headed for the women's staircase, Rose's mind sifted through her alternatives. She noticed that Gennie's door had remained closed, so all the ruckus must not have awakened her. Good, she'd leave her to sleep. Now, how to locate Patience? Rose certainly wasn't going to walk to Languor, if that was where Patience had gone. However, it wouldn't be a good idea to drive right now, either. The Society's black Plymouth was kept next to the Trustees' Office, and Andrew would surely hear if she tried to start it up. In fact, much of North Homage might hear. She decided to walk in the direction Patience had taken, at least to the edge of the village. She might be wasting her time, but it was all she could think of at the moment. If she found no hints to Patience's whereabouts, she'd consider awakening Andrew to discuss the next step. She'd best call him from another building, though, in case someone saw her enter, at night, a building inhabited entirely by brethren.

By the time she'd formulated her plan, she was already out the women's entrance to the Center Family Dwelling House and walking past the back of the Trustees' Office.
Though she refused to turn around, she imagined she could feel Gertrude's eyes on her back.

The moon bathed the Trustees' Office in milky light, and the damp Kentucky bluegrass swished faintly under her feet. Going west, there was nothing beyond the Office except the road to Languor. To her right were acres and acres of herb fields. The straight rows of mounded plants looked like hills of snow as the moonlight reflected off the heavy dew. Just west of the fields was the old cemetery, unused since 1882, with some woods to the north. In front of her was a hilly, wooded area, unsuitable for cultivation. Rose guessed that if Patience had not gone to Languor, she might have gone to the cemetery or the woods, either of which would provide her with privacy, if that was what she sought.

Rose veered off to her right, toward the cemetery. As she did so, she heard a wail coming from somewhere in the hills to her left. She stopped and listened. Wild dogs sometimes roamed the area, looking for food they could no longer get from equally hungry humans. Perhaps one was ill or injured.

Rose waited for several minutes, but the cry was not repeated. She began walking again, but she'd gone no more than a few steps when she heard sounds that were distinctly more human. At least, she had never heard a dog call out to the angels by name. She hurried toward the voice, though some instinct told her to approach quietly.

The hilly area had been allowed to grow wild. Misshapen trees, some many decades old, ringed the land in a scraggly circle. By this time of year, the undergrowth was knee-high. Since the land was unusable, no one had beaten down any paths, so Rose picked her way through the weeds and brambles as best she could. She tried not to think about what she might step on.

Rose followed the bursts of talking and came to a small stand of trees at the foot of a steep slope. The voice was
close. She edged as close to the hill as she could, knowing the trees kept her hidden in deep shadow.

At the top of the hill, silhouetted in moonlight, stood Sister Patience. At first Rose thought she must be in another trance, but her gestures were tame, everyday. She seemed to be conversing with someone Rose couldn't see. She reached out with one hand, as if imploring, then sank to her knees and her mouth moved in prayer, though Rose could hear no words. The weight of her prayers seemed to push her toward the ground until she lay facedown, her arms stretched out in front of her.

Perhaps this is a trance, after all,
Rose thought. She watched and waited. If Patience didn't move soon, she should intercede. Just as she was about to move out of her hiding place, Patience drew herself slowly up to her knees, then leaned back on her feet and pushed to a standing position. Again she conversed with the wind, but this time, it seemed, with pleasure rather than in supplication. Rose had never seen Patience's face lit with joy before; the emotion transformed her stern features into dark beauty.

Patience reached out with both hands this time, then drew them back, cupped as if something had been poured into them. The gesture was similar to her movement in the sweeping gift when she had taken the symbolic fire. However, instead of sprinkling invisible fire, she placed the object on the ground and sat in front of it. She leaned over it and broke off a piece, then put it in her mouth and chewed with ecstasy. In six more bites, she had consumed the invisible food.

The movements struck a chord in Rose's memory, but she couldn't identify it yet. She knew she hadn't seen anything like this before, but perhaps she had read about it. Had Agatha described it? She would ask as soon as possible.

Patience began to speak, more loudly this time, so Rose could catch a word here and there. It sounded like a prayer of thanks for what Patience called “celestial food.”

With a sudden twist of her body, Patience faced toward Rose and started to march down the hill, singing a lively but unfamiliar tune. In her curiosity, Rose had stepped around her protective tree. In her dark blue dress, the shadows might still hide her, but if Patience continued toward her, she would surely be exposed. Her first impulse was to jump back behind the tree, but a split second of thought told her the movement would make her more visible. She stayed where she was, rigid and still as the trees around her, trying to govern her ragged breathing as Patience marched directly toward her.

Halfway down from the crest of the hill, Patience stopped, did a marching turn, and circled the circumference two times. Rose slid back into her hiding place before Patience returned to the summit and stopped.

Again Patience prostrated herself in prayer, then stood and accepted an invisible object from invisible hands. This one she held to her lips and sipped. After placing the vessel on the ground with care, she twirled around it, her arms flung out from her sides.

The pantomime repeated, again and again, each time with a different nourishment and a unique response. The fascination had worn off, and Rose felt her knees begin to buckle. Her determination to have it out with Patience had dimmed long ago. Yet she kept watching. Patience was exerting enormous energy for someone eating only air. Rose herself was almost fainting from exhaustion, and she longed to know how Patience kept going. Perhaps she was witnessing a true gift?

Finally Rose conceded. She considered interrupting Patience's activities, but to intrude upon a gift would be considered tantamount to unbelief. As eldress, she could not afford to give such an impression, especially as she herself inched toward accepting the gift as true. She left Patience enjoying yet another celestial dish and made her weary way back to the Ministry House and a few hours of sleep.

I
N HIS SEARCH FOR A RAG TO CLEAN OFF HIS WORK SPACE
Sunday morning, Andrew opened the closet door in the Medicinal Herb Shop, and out tumbled Gennie. At least, she felt as if she'd tumbled out. She'd been jolted awake by the sound of someone's shoes approaching the closet, but hoisting herself to a standing position in the narrow space proved difficult for her stiff joints. By steadying herself with one elbow against the wall and the other against the door, she had achieved a crouch when the door opened, removing half her support. She tilted sideways and sat down sharply.

Andrew stared at her, his mouth slightly open but no words forming. Gennie rolled to her knees and winced as her sore neck complained. Still mute, Andrew reached down and pulled Gennie to her feet. He showed no embarrassment over having touched a woman—and a young, worldly one, at that.

“What . . . ? Are you all right?” he asked, as she brushed clouds of dust from her wrinkled work dress.

“Fine, thanks,” Gennie said, aiming for a sunny grin. She searched her groggy mind but could find nothing to say that would reasonably explain her presence in the closet. So she didn't mention it. “Gosh,” she said, rushing toward the front door, “it must be close to breakfast time. Rose will be wondering where I am.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Andrew said. “You can't just roll out of the closet and run off. What in heaven's name were you doing in there?”

“Really, it would take too long, and Rose will be worried if I'm not at breakfast, so perhaps we could talk later?” Gennie whirled around and reached for the doorknob just as the door opened. Benjamin and Thomas appeared. She couldn't stop in time and crashed into Thomas's beefy torso. He didn't budge as Gennie's small body bounced off him and she stumbled backward. This time Benjamin caught her before she fell.
Wonderful,
Gennie thought,
now all I need is to find that Patience has been watching and will denounce me at worship for touching three brethren, all before breakfast.

The three men encircled Gennie, so a casual rush for the door would be awkward. Though she couldn't tell them, she feared she was late making the first of her promised twice-daily calls to Grady. If he didn't hear from her, he'd come roaring into the village, and that would be an even bigger mess than she was in now. She tried her grin again, but she could sense its feebleness. She glanced around at the brethren's faces. Thomas's features were tight with irritation, Andrew still looked befuddled, and Benjamin exuded anger and suspicion.

“What were you two doing in here alone together so early in the morning?” Benjamin asked.

“I have no idea,” Andrew said. He shrugged his shoulders with such innocence that Gennie realized the implications of Benjamin's question had escaped him.

Benjamin's frown deepened. “How can you not know?”

“What I meant was, we weren't here together. I just found her here in—”

“What Andrew means is that I just came here to do a bit of cleaning up before Patience started to work again after breakfast,” Gennie said with breathless speed. “After all, I am being paid to help, and there's so little I can do yet—until I learn more about medicinal herbs, which I truly
want to do, and I plan to study up on them right away. In fact, I haven't heard the breakfast bell, so maybe I'll have some time to start my studies right now, if I hurry.”