The Promise of Morning (23 page)

After a sleepless night, Ellie rose at daybreak and tiptoed downstairs, searching for Matthew. When she slid open the parlor door, she saw he’d propped himself into a half-sitting position on the divan. Soft snores whistled through his beard. Her heart tripped in her chest at the sight. They’d never slept in separate rooms before. She eased the door shut and moved into the kitchen, praying the children hadn’t overheard last night’s quarrel. She stirred coals in the stove, adding several sticks of kindling to start the fire.

“Mama?”

She turned at the sound of Johnny’s voice, forcing a smile. “Good morning. Your turn to milk the cow, is it?”

He nodded, a troubled expression on his face. “I heard you and Papa last night.” His voice cracked. “You can’t let him go.”

Ellie pursed her lips. “If you overheard us last night, you know there’s precious little I can do about it.” She knew her tone was sharper than it should have been, but the last thing she needed was a thirteen-year-old boy telling her how to deal with her husband. “Perhaps you can change his mind. I can’t.” She turned her back, the cut on her hand stinging as she dragged a heavy iron skillet into place on the stovetop. “Best go milk that cow.”

As soon as the door closed, Matthew appeared in the room, his left arm clasped around his right.

Tension prickled up her spine. “I’m—”

“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, there’s no need. I knew you were bound to be upset. It wasn’t my intention to provoke you.” He stepped close and placed his left hand on her shoulder.

Ellie warmed at his touch. “If you’ll just stay home, things can go back to the way they were.”

Matthew looked at her for a long moment. The sadness in his eyes spilled across his face. “The way they were? How far back are you remembering?” He dropped his hand. “Too much has happened. A stream doesn’t run backward, and neither will our lives.”

His words sounded like the tolling of a funeral bell. Part of her mind agreed with him, but his rationalization didn’t stop her from wanting him to stay in Beldon Grove. Wordless, she turned toward the stove to hide the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

“Ellie?”

She didn’t look at him. “I’m listening.”

“Today’s Thursday. I haven’t forgotten that this is the day you go to Molly’s to work on her quilt. I want Doc to take a look at my ribs anyway.” Matthew cleared his throat. “I’m planning to ask him to keep an eye on things out here while I’m away.” His hand grazed her shoulder. “This would be easier with your cooperation, but with or without it, I have to go. I wish you’d try to understand.”

His footsteps receded. Once he left the room, she turned away from the stove. Why should she make it easy for him? She was the one who was going to suffer. She opened the breadbox and cut a thick slice from one of the loaves. Spreading it with crabapple preserves, she gobbled it down. The sugary taste of the preserves left her with a momentary feeling of comfort. Maybe if she ignored his plans, he’d give them up.

The first thing that caught Ellie’s attention when she entered Molly’s cabin was the sweet almond fragrance of Scotch shortbread. The air in the room felt heavy with a combination of June humidity and heat radiating from Molly’s oven.

Ellie had intended to share her frustration over Matthew’s plans with Molly and Charity. But now that she had the opportunity, she hesitated. What if they thought he was leaving because she’d failed as a wife? She remembered her outburst the previous night and flushed. She
had
failed.

She moved to the kitchen table and lifted one of the diamond-shaped sweets from the rack where they were cooling. The warm shortbread melted over her tongue. She sighed with pleasure and took another bite.

From behind her, Molly teased, “If you were one of the children, I’d scold you. We usually wait to have our treats until after we’re done quilting.”

Ellie spoke around a mouthful of crumbs. “Sorry. I know better.” She wiped her lips with her handkerchief and followed Molly into the next room where Charity sat waiting at the quilt frame.

Once settled onto their chairs, the women worked in silence for several moments. Five rows of uneven stitches near the roller testified to Luellen’s reluctant participation. Charity pointed at them and glanced at Molly, a question in her eyes.

Molly shook her head. “Leave them. She has to learn.”

Ellie concentrated on drawing her needle through layers of fabric and batting without disturbing the bandage wrapped around her palm. With each stitch, she considered how to present Matthew’s decision in a way that wouldn’t cast her in a bad light.

Charity broke into her thoughts. “Aren’t you going to tell us what happened between Matthew and Elder Meecham in Quincy?”

“I’m not sure what happened. Matt didn’t say exactly.” Ellie bit her lower lip. “All I know is he’s leaving the pulpit here and taking up a southern Illinois circuit.” She studied her companions’ faces, waiting for their reactions.

Eyes wide, Charity leaned across the frame as she spoke. “But he’s needed here.”

The memory of last night tingled across Ellie’s fingers. Her face burned with shame. “I don’t know how to stop him.” She avoided Charity’s gaze by concentrating on her stitchwork. “I think it’s too late.”

Charity exhaled, her breath making a puffing sound in her nostrils. “I can’t imagine Matthew leaving the Beldon Grove church. Why, he and Ben built it—stick by stick and member by member.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe you can change his mind in the bedchamber, if you know what I mean.” Her fair complexion turned rosy.

Ellie stared at the bright colors honeycombed across the top of the quilt. Their outlines blurred through threatened tears. She’d told no one about her decision not to risk another pregnancy, and now wasn’t the time to blurt it out. Charity’s suggestion might have worked once.
All our decisions have consequences.
She remembered Matthew preaching on that subject, and teaching it to their children. Was this her consequence? Her husband didn’t want to live with her?

Molly patted her shoulder. “Matt’s always been stubborn. Once he makes up his mind, it’s as good as done.” She looked from Ellie to Charity. “I’m sure Ellie has already tried everything she knows to get him to stay.”

Her kind words sent a knife into Ellie’s heart. What would have happened if she’d kissed him instead of trying to slap his face? Regret sent a tear slipping down her cheek.

Charity’s face softened. “Oh my dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I should know better than anybody how impossible it is to change a man’s mind. The good Lord knows how hard I tried to talk Ben out of conducting on the Underground Railroad.” She shook her head. “I cried, I begged, I . . . did everything. You can see how much influence I had. He’s been involved for nearly a decade.”

“Molly told me you care for escaping slaves who arrive injured.” Ellie dabbed at her tears with her handkerchief.

“I do now. But I must confess I balked at first.” She smiled faintly. “Remember the scriptures say that a house divided against itself cannot stand. We’re to be helpmeets for our husbands, not adversaries.”

Ellie sucked in a deep breath, feeling more like a failure every minute. “At least the church will be in good hands. Mr. Beldon preached well last Sunday. It’s just hard for me to see him in Matthew’s place.”

“The church is in good hands?” Charity jabbed her needle into the quilt top. “What makes you think that? Marcus Beldon’s a Judas.”

Ellie blinked, surprised at the outburst. “He has the town’s best interests at heart. You know his father founded Beldon Grove. And he’s always been very concerned and polite to me.”

“Perhaps that’s how he seems to you, but Ben says Marcus Beldon is the person who’s been casting doubts on Matthew’s fitness as a preacher.”

Molly shook her head. “I can’t believe he’d do a thing like that. He’s got such a kind heart.” She laid her hands on the edge of the quilt frame and smiled at Charity. “He’s going to get news of James for us. He has connections with someone in President Polk’s cabinet.”

“So he says,” Charity muttered.

Ellie gazed in wonder at Charity, all thoughts of Matthew’s departure forgotten for the moment. “It’s not like you to be so suspicious-minded. Whatever happened to ‘judge not, lest ye be judged’?”

“She’s right,” Molly said. “How does your husband know what’s in Mr. Beldon’s mind?”

“You girls are being led into a snare.” Charity lifted her sewing basket onto her lap, inserted her needle in its case, and snapped the lid shut. Then she stood and leveled her index finger at Molly and Ellie. “Mark my words. If Marcus Beldon succeeds in driving Matthew away, you’ll have to ask yourselves—who’s next?”

18

Through the window in Karl’s office, Matthew watched Charity stride across Adams Street and head down Hancock toward the center of town. He slipped his watch from his left-hand pocket and fumbled the latch open. The hands read two o’clock. At that moment the inner door swung wide and a young boy stepped out with a wooden splint wrapped around his arm, his face tearstained. His mother followed, gushing her thanks to the doctor as she exited.

When they left, Karl leaned against the entrance to his examination room and grinned. “Sorry to make you wait, my friend. That little lad thought he was big enough to ride one of his papa’s plow horses.” He shook his head. “Short ride.”

Matthew eased himself from a sitting to a standing position. “I know something about falling off horses.” He headed for the inner room. “I want you to take a look at my ribs and shoulder. Had them tended to in Quincy, but not by a doctor.”

After spending several minutes probing Matthew’s side and checking the rotation of his right arm, Karl wrapped the ribs in clean cloth strips. “You’ll need to take things easy for a couple more weeks. They won’t heal if you don’t hold still.”

“Can’t spare that much time. I need to head for Adams Station soon’s I can.”

“So Daniel had it right. You’re leaving. I didn’t believe him.”

Matthew imagined he saw condemnation in his friend’s eyes. “It’s for the best.” He braced for argument.

“You could stay right here and fight for your church. You’re letting a lot of people down.”

“It’ll be easier all around if I leave. How can I minister to people who think God himself is against me?”

Karl slid a chair away from the wall and gestured for Matthew to sit. “Remember when we first met, and you got me to talking about why I’d come west from Philadelphia? You listened then, and you listened every time I came to you with questions. It was you brought me to salvation.” His blue eyes bored into Matthew’s. “That’s your ministry. There’s a lot of people in this town who’d be looking at the fires of hell if it weren’t for you.”

Matthew shifted in his chair. Karl hadn’t been around when people he’d converted crossed the street to avoid talking to him. His friend hadn’t felt the sting of rejection.

“Where are they now? All these people you say I helped. Like sheep, they’ve flocked to a new shepherd.”

He’d known Ellie would be opposed to his decision, but he’d counted on support from Karl. Matthew had never felt more alone.

After breakfast the next morning, Matthew looked at his sons. “Let’s go out to the cornfield. I want to see what you’ve done while I was away.” He stood and took a shallow breath, his lungs fighting for space against his tightly bound ribs.

Ellie stood with her back to him, scrubbing at something on the stovetop. Except for a cool “good morning” when he emerged from the parlor, she’d said little. Seeing her distress, and envisioning his children’s reactions, left him shaken. Was his decision the mistake everyone said it was? His heart quailed at the idea of confronting Beldon for the leadership of the church. He pictured the big man with his impeccable suits, his impressive vocabulary, his commanding presence. The thought made him feel small and insignificant. He couldn’t stay. That’s all there was to it.

The twins were already on their feet and at the door. “We worked every day,” Jimmy told him. “Me and Johnny did most of it. Harrison’s slow.”

Matthew dropped a hand onto his youngest son’s shoulder and squeezed reassurance. “I’m sure you each did your best.”