The Promise of Morning (13 page)

When he caught Matthew looking at him, he shrugged. “Can’t tell that woman anything. This seamstress thing is a passing fancy.”

Matthew shook his head. “Having Ruby involved is an embarrassment— opposing something my wife’s aunt has jumped into whole hog.” Ben’s warning echoed in his mind.
If you preach
against a Shakespeare play, you’ll sound like a fool.

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Don’t worry over it. The whole thing will be over soon.”

11

At breakfast Monday, Matthew glanced out the window, startled to see Ben drawing his buggy to a halt near the back porch. Behind him, fence posts steamed as they dried out from the previous day’s soaking. Their neighbor jumped over several puddles on his way to the steps.

“Did Ben say anything to you about coming by this morning?” Matthew asked Ellie.

She shook her head. “He’ll be late opening the store. It must be important.”

He pushed back from the table and met his friend at the door. “Come on in—coffee’s still hot.”

“No thanks. I stopped by to walk your fields with you to see how much of your crop you’ve got left.” Pointing at his mud-caked boots, he continued, “Just finished with my own. Don’t look too bad, Lord be thanked.”

Matthew stepped onto the porch, shoved his feet into his boots, and paused to tighten the laces.

Ben waited at the top of the steps. “Nice morning.”

“Yup.” Matthew led the way around the fence and out to his fields. Their footsteps squished over the sodden ground as they walked between muddy furrows of newly planted seed. “Looks like everything stayed put. I’d just as soon not walk the whole place. We’ll do more harm than good, wet as it is.”

“Aye-yuh, I think you’re right.”

The two men backtracked to the fence and leaned on the top rail. “Why are you really here? You’ve never dropped by to check my crops before.”

Ben studied the toes of his boots for a long moment. Then he turned and met Matthew’s eyes. “Something’s happening in town that you should know about. Wish it wasn’t me had to tell you.”

Splinters of alarm pricked Matthew’s skin. “I’m listening.”

Ben pulled off his hat. The Macassar oil on his hair glistened in the sunlight. First he fiddled with his hat brim, then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Folks are getting stirred up against you. I heard some of them talking about you in my store.”

“Stirred up? Because of that play?” Matthew slapped his leg. “Good. They should be. Proves I’m doing my job.”

“It’s not the play, though maybe that’s some of it.” Ben kicked at a clump of grass.

“It’s not like you to beat around the bush. Spit it out.”

Ben stepped away from the fence. “They’re saying Julia’s death, and the other children before her, are a judgment from God. That you’re not fit to preach his word.”

Matthew’s stomach rolled and he gulped hard to keep his breakfast down. He clutched Ben’s shoulder. “Who? Who’s saying that?”

“I’ve heard it from several people. Not to my face, of course, because folks know we’re friends.” His hazel eyes filled with anger. “I’m going to find out who’s spreading this calumny.”

Thoughts racing, Matthew backed away, vaulted over the rail fence, and strode toward the barn. He heard his father’s voice in his ears.
You’re deluded if you think you’re called to be a preacher.
Stay home where you belong.
Flinging open the barn door, he went to the nearest stall and led his horse out to be saddled.

Ben followed him into the barn. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” Matthew rested his forehead against the animal’s warm hide. “I really don’t know.”

Ellie watched Matthew and Mr. Wolcott ride away. Matthew had never left without saying good-bye before. Heavyhearted, she turned back to the stove and grated lye soap shavings into the wash boiler, then dropped in an armload of her sons’ grimy shirts. The water changed from clear to muddy gray.
Just like
our lives.

The house was quiet. The children were at school, and now Matthew was gone too. She could put her plan into action. Ellie stepped back from the stove and wiped perspiration from her forehead with the hem of her apron, then climbed the stairs.

She headed straight to the clothespress in their bedroom. Even knowing she was alone, Ellie still checked over her shoulder before kneeling to open the drawer that held Matthew’s personal possessions. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

The fragrance of stored sunshine rose from her husband’s clean shirts and underthings when she opened the drawer. With trembling hands, she reached beneath the stacks of clothing and drew out a slim walnut document box.

Ellie groped around the bottom of the drawer, her fingers searching for the small brass key that fit the lock. Nothing. Defeated, she sank back onto her heels.
Now what?
She lifted the box and shook it. The contents teased her with rattles and whispers. She tipped it on its side and shook it again. This time the hinged lid flew open. Folded papers sifted onto her lap. Several pen nibs rolled under the clothespress and two wooden pen holders clattered past her knees.

She’d intended to look through his papers without disturbing their order, but that was impossible now. Ellie bent over and fished under the clothespress for the runaway nibs. She gathered four of them and prayed none were hiding next to the wall. Once the nibs and holders were back in the walnut box, she turned her attention to the pages in her lap. A letter from the presiding elder, appointing Matthew to the Beldon Grove church. Several drawings of the church building in various stages of construction. A credit receipt from Wolcott’s Mercantile for last year’s corn crop. Then a sheet of yellowed paper, folded inward on all four sides, caught her eye. Ellie’d never seen it before.

It was too old to be from Grandpa Long. Curious, she unfolded one side of the letter, then stopped, a tingle of guilt prickling her throat at the idea of spying on her husband. A voice inside told her to put everything back and leave the room. Instead, Ellie opened the fragile document carefully, so as not to tear the paper. A lock of auburn hair tied with a blue cord nestled in the center of a sheet covered with faded script.

Ellie traced the silky curl with her index finger. Matthew had told her about the sweetheart he’d lost years ago in Kentucky. But he hadn’t told her he’d kept a lock of her hair. An arrow of jealousy impaled her heart.

Angry, she pushed the auburn curl to one side and started to read.

Dear Brother Matthew,

Since we don’t know where you are, we are
sending this to the Elder of your conference
and pray it reaches you.

Our dear Mother went to the arms of her
Lord on Monday last after a brief sickness. She
asked for you at the end. I’m sending a lock of
her hair for you to remember her by.

Pa is worse than usual. Sister Molly
has been a blessing to us boys. We all send
greetings and hope this finds you well.

Y’r Brother Adam

Ellie lowered the paper and blinked back tears. The date written at the top of the sheet was March 11, 1825. His mother. He’d kept this, and his grief, hidden for over twenty years. She lifted the lock of hair, seeing it with fresh vision. His mother’s hair was the same color as the twins’.

She stood and walked to the window, staring out at their cornfields. For the moment she forgot the distance that had crept between herself and Matthew and concentrated instead on the kindhearted man who’d won her love when she was still a girl.

She turned back to the clothespress, where the contents of the walnut box lay strewn across the floor. Ellie placed the curl back in the center of the paper and closed the sides over Matthew’s memories. Praying she wouldn’t be found out, she replaced the contents of the box as she hoped they’d been arranged and tucked the polished container into the drawer.

Not until later did Ellie remember she hadn’t found the envelope from Grandpa Long.

That afternoon Ellie pegged Matthew’s laundered shirts onto the clothesline with special care. She smoothed his white cotton Sunday shirt, then took one hand and pressed a sleeve to her cheek.
Lord, help me to be kind-spoken to Matthew—even though
I can’t be all that he wants in a wife.

A breeze ruffled the hanging garments, reminding her of the scripture that compared the Spirit of God to the wind. Comforted, Ellie lifted the empty basket just as Matthew rode into the yard.

She hurried toward him, smiling. “I’m glad to see you. Where’d you and Mr. Wolcott go?”

His gaze met hers, then dropped to the saddle horn. “No place special. Ben went to town. I rode a ways east, looked over the countryside.”

“What for?”

“Do I need a reason?” He tapped Samson’s sides with his heels and rode on to the barn.

Deflated, Ellie stared after him. She spun around and stalked toward the house.

On Thursday afternoon, the kitchen door opened and Uncle Arthur called Ellie’s name.

“I’m in the sitting room.” She dropped the shirt she was mending for Harrison into the basket beside her rocking chair and walked to the hallway. “If you’re looking for Matthew, he took the children out to help replant the acre next to the creek.”

“Nope, looking for you.” His fringe of hair lay flat around his scalp, bearing the marks of the hat he held in his hand. “Ruby sent me to see if you’d come help her this afternoon.”

Ellie chuckled. “Now that’s something new—Aunt Ruby asking for
my
help. What does she need done?”

“Sounds like one of them actors tore his stage getup real bad and she’s got to make him a new costume before tomorrow.” Uncle Arthur looked uncomfortable in his role as go-between. “Said to tell you she’s got it all cut out, just needs another pair of hands to help with the sewing.”

She wondered what Matthew would say to the request. He hadn’t spoken much for the past few days. She knew he was upset with her decision not to risk having more children, but it was unlike him to retreat into silence the way he had. She flicked a glance out the kitchen window toward the creek. Matthew’s broad-brimmed straw hat was barely visible beyond the branches of the willow trees. She hoped he wouldn’t be too perturbed—after all she was doing a favor for Aunt Ruby.

She smiled at her uncle. “I’ll get my sewing basket.”