Christmas at Harmony Hill (18 page)

T
he morning before Christmas, Gideon finally topped the hill and looked down at the farmhouse where his Heather Lou would be awaiting him. The last days had been hard with pain grabbing him every time he moved his shoulder. He’d thought about stopping to find a doctor, to get a fresh bandage, but every minute he wasn’t moving north was another minute before he could see Heather.

Smoke curled up out of the chimney of her house, inviting him to hurry. He imagined her sitting with her mother around the stove, maybe knitting a baby sweater. It was early in the day. He’d gotten off the train in Danville the evening before and walked until near dark before taking shelter in a barn beside the road. He couldn’t sleep. The pain from his shoulder made it impossible to find a comfortable position, but even more, he couldn’t sleep because Heather was on his mind. She’d once told him he could sleep anywhere. Hard ground or soft. Cold nights or hot days. With cannons booming or in deep silence. It had been easy to sleep with her hand on his chest, promising her love.

But the night before, his eagerness to see her kept him awake.
She was so near, but he had no choice except to wait for daylight. A stumble in the dark and a fall on his shoulder might be more than he could stand. But once he was with her, once her hands were touching him again, then he would heal.

He looked down at her house. The thought of her face in front of his eyes gave his legs new energy. He called out her name and began to run down the hill.

A boy stepped from the side of the barn to stop him. Heather’s little brother. All arms and legs, Willie had grown nearly as tall as Gideon.

“Gideon, is that you?” The boy had no smile of welcome on his face. Instead he looked almost afraid as he took a quick look back over his shoulder toward the barn doors.

“I haven’t changed so much that you don’t recognize me, have I, Willie?”

“You’re not looking too good, but I know you.” Willie took another nervous look behind him. He kept his voice low. “But you better get on out of here before Pa sees you.”

“I won’t be leaving without Heather.” Gideon looked past the boy toward the house.

“Heather’s not here, and if he sees you, Pa’s as apt to shoot you as not.” Willie grabbed hold of Gideon’s arm and tried to pull him back behind the barn. “He ain’t got no use for Yankees.”

Gideon didn’t let Willie budge him. A sick feeling was rising up inside him. She had to be here. What did he mean she wasn’t here? He grabbed Willie’s jacket. “Where is she?”

“Let go of my boy!” Heather’s father stepped out of the barn and leveled a rifle at Gideon.

Willie jerked free from Gideon, but instead of moving away, the boy put himself between his father and Gideon. “He was just leaving, Pa.”

“Don’t waste your pity on a Yankee.” The man’s voice was full of contempt. “Step aside, Son. Now.”

Willie did as his father ordered. His eyes flashed from Gideon
to his father’s face and back again before, without a word, he took off for the house, running as if his life depended on it. Mr. Thornton didn’t let his eyes waver from Gideon as he kept the gun leveled on him.

Gideon stared back at him. “Where is she?”

“Gone. They’re all gone.” The gun wobbled a bit, but then the man pulled it back up straight.

Gideon hardly noticed it. He could think of nothing but where Heather might be. “She can’t be gone. She has to be here.”

“Gone, I said.” His voice was rough. “The same as Simon felled at Gettysburg and her mother and Jimmy lost to the cholera. All gone. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

“Gone? You can’t mean my Heather Lou is dead.” He couldn’t bear the thought.

“She was dead to me the day she went off with a Yankee.”

“But she was carrying my child.” Despair mashed him down until it was all he could do to stay on his feet. Behind the man, he could see Willie and Heather’s sister, Beth, running toward them. The little brother, Lucas, trailed after her, wailing as he tried to keep up.

“Pa,” she screamed. “No.”

He paid her no mind as he stared at Gideon. “What do I care about your child?” But a flash of pain in his eyes gave lie to his words. “I told her not to go with you.”

“But she came home to have him. Here where she felt safe and loved.”

“I sent her away. She had no place here.” He kept his jaw clenched, but the timbre of regret was in his words.

“Where?”

“What does that matter to you? You’ll not live to see another sunrise.”

“You can shoot me, but you can never make me quit loving your daughter.” He held his arms out beside him, surrendering. It seemed a long way to walk to die when he could have done that on the battlefield.

Beth stopped a few paces away from them as though she feared getting too close. She grabbed at her breath and spoke in a voice that made Gideon think of her mother. “Pa, you can’t shoot Heather’s husband.” When he didn’t so much as look sideways at her, she went on. “Thou shalt not kill. You taught us the Ten Commandments.”

“This is war,” he said.

“The war is over for us,” she said firmly. “We need no more dying.”

“Death comes whether we need it or not.” He raised the gun up to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel at Gideon. Willie’s eyes popped open bigger and Lucas hid his face in his sister’s skirt. Their father paid no notice to them as he asked Gideon, “Is the war over?”

“For me it is.” Gideon locked his eyes on Mr. Thornton. “Is it over for you?”

“It’s over, Pa,” Beth spoke up. “More killing won’t bring Simon back.”

“Hush, girl,” her father ordered. Lucas began wailing louder. “You too, Lucas.”

“But Pa, you can’t kill him on Christmas,” the little boy said between sobs.

“It’s not Christmas.”

“But Beth says Heather just had a baby. A Christmas baby.”

“She’s had the baby?” Gideon forgot the gun pointed at him as he stepped toward Beth. “The baby’s here?”

“We got a letter yesterday from Aunt Sophrena. You have a boy.” Beth smiled at him.

His head began to spin. He had a son. “And Heather?”

“Aunt Sophrena writes she had a difficult confinement but she made it through.”

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Gideon whispered.

A valley they had both been in during the last weeks. A valley
he might still be walking through. He looked around at Heather’s father. The man had lowered his gun and was staring away toward a cluster of trees in the distance.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” the man said.

“We read that at Mother’s funeral.” Beth pushed past Gideon toward her father. Without hesitation, she put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Sometimes I don’t think I can keep going without her,” he said. “She wasn’t supposed to die.”

“Too much dying,” Beth whispered.

Gideon thought of the bodies lined up after a battle, awaiting burial. Jake’s body had been in one of those lines. Now his body might end up in another place awaiting the mercy of burial. But dear God, please let him see Heather one more time. And his baby. He so wanted to see his son. Jake had died to give him that chance.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“The Shaker village in the next county,” Willie spoke up. “You might have come right by there.”

“And I’m going right back.” Gideon turned too quickly toward the road and the combination of too much blood lost and no food since he’d gotten off the train the day before sapped him of energy. He reached for something to hold on to, but there was nothing but the thought of Heather and his baby. Black settled around him and his knees buckled.

Willie came to help him. “He’s bleeding.”

“Did you shoot him, Pa?” Lucas started wailing again.

Gideon tried to get back to his feet, but even with the thought of Heather waiting for him, he couldn’t pull up enough strength to keep going. He’d have to sit there on the ground and rest awhile. And hope the man would pick up his gun and go away without shooting him.

“Stop your caterwauling, Lucas. I didn’t shoot him.” He handed his gun over to Beth and moved to reach down to Gideon. “Come
on, Willie. Let’s get him in the house and see to him. Your sister’s right. There’s been enough dying.”

Gideon drifted in and out of consciousness. He was in a warm place. The hands washing his wound were gentle. Strong arms lifted him up and held water to his lips. And then broth. Heather’s house. Heather’s family. But she wasn’t there. He had to get to Heather. To his son. He had to tell her the baby’s name.

Finally he was able to push open his eyes and keep them open. He was on a cot. Heather’s father was in a chair beside him. The gun was nowhere in sight. Gideon raised his head and swung his feet out on the floor. The man watched him without a word.

Gideon sat there on the edge of the cot to let his head clear before he said, “Thank you for not shooting me.”

“Lucas was right,” the man said. “Christmas is a bad time for killing.”

Gideon looked toward the window. The light was dimming, but he had no idea how long he’d been out. Was it evening or morning? Maybe it was Christmas Day. He licked his lips and said, “Is it Christmas?”

“Susan would say so. She liked the night before the same as the day. Made the children new nightshirts and gowns. Let them sit up till midnight eating popcorn and chocolate candy. Then she had me read about the angels coming to the shepherds before she sent them off to bed.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I swear there were nights I could hear those angels singing.”

Across the room, Beth and the two boys stood by the fire listening. Gideon could see tears glistening on the girl’s cheeks as she reached to pull Lucas closer to her. Nobody said anything as they waited for Mr. Thornton to go on.

He stared down at his hands spread out on his thighs a long moment before he said, “But it was never the angels. It was always Susan, and now I’ll never hear that singing again.”

Words popped in and out of Gideon’s mind, but none seemed right. Finally because the man seemed to be waiting for something from him, he said simply, “She loved you.”

“She did. God only knows why, but she did. And I loved her.” He raised his eyes to stare at Gideon with challenge. “Do you love my daughter that way?”

“I love her more than life.” Gideon managed to get to his feet. “I’ve got to go find her.”

The man stood up and gently shoved him back onto the cot. “The day is almost gone. When Christmas dawns on the morrow, we will go in the wagon. All of us. I hear my Susan telling me to give you that gift.”

“It will be a gift to all of us,” Beth whispered. “A wonderful Christmas gift to see our sister and her new baby. Thank you, Pa. Mama will be singing a song of joy just for you.”

He didn’t smile, but a tear slipped out of his eye and slid down his cheek. He didn’t brush it away, just blew out a breath of air, and stalked out of the cabin. Willie started to follow him, but Beth stopped him. “Best let him listen for Mama’s song alone, Willie. Come, we’ll go pop some corn.”

Gideon lay back on the pillow and listened to the corn popping. Next Christmas, he and Heather would begin their own special times with little Jake.

S
ophrena did everything a Believer was supposed to do on Sacrifice Day. She prayed. She confessed. She asked forgiveness. She forgave. Eldress Lilith gave her a blessing. Sister Edna smiled and told her she would be glad when she came back to share the retiring room with her and the other sisters. Brother Kenton looked surprised and then a bit uneasy when she asked his forgiveness for wrong thoughts toward him. She stopped him on the porch as he left the cabin after checking on Heather and the baby.

He stared down at his medicine bag as he seemed to search for the proper words. Finally with a gentle look, he said, “We have shared much in the last few weeks, Sister Sophrena. I have admired your caring spirit and devoted ways to our young sister. Such times of closeness can awaken feelings that tempt us into worldly thinking.”

“Yea.” Sophrena had already faced the truth that Brother Kenton had not looked upon her with the same affection that had sprung awake in her own heart. That seemed even more reason to ask his forgiveness on Sacrifice Day. “I have struggled with worldly thoughts all through the year.”

“Even before Sister Heather came among us?” He let his eyes
touch on Sophrena’s face and then quickly slid his gaze back to the ground.

“Yea. Your smile awakened joy within me.”

“Then I must ask your forgiveness for setting a worldly temptation in front of you. Such was not my intent. I rejoice in the peaceful love of the brothers and sisters here in our village.”

“Much simple joy can be found here. It has been mine for many years.”

He looked up at her, this time meeting her eyes. “But now it is no longer?”

“I have entertained feelings I have been unable to whirl away.”

“Perhaps I could make you a tonic,” he suggested.

“Nay.” Sophrena couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at her lips. “There are some things for which there are no tonics.”

Again he looked uneasy. “I am sorry,” he started.

She waved away his words. “Don’t be, my brother. My spirit is well. I am forgiven. I am loved. Whatever God’s plan for me, joy is alive in my heart.”

And it was. She watched him walk away with no sorrow for his leaving. Inside, Heather and the baby awaited her love. Whatever happened on the morrow, she would know it was God’s plan.

Heather woke early on Christmas Day. Her spirit felt light in spite of her worry for Gideon. She had emptied her heart of resentment toward her father for refusing to welcome her home. She had forgiven him and prayed on the Shakers’ Sacrifice Day that somehow he would know her forgiveness.

The Lord had made good come from his anger at her. She had found this warm place of welcome with Sophrena. Not her mother, but a woman she could love much the same as she did her mother. After their morning meal, Heather caught Sophrena’s hand as she got up to clear away their dishes before she left for the Shakers’ Christmas Day worship.

“I have no gift for you, Aunt Sophrena. Nothing but the love I feel for you in my heart. You have been a gift to me. An angel supplied by the Lord when I most needed it.”

Sophrena put her arms around Heather. “Nay, my child. You are the gift. You and your sweet baby. The Lord noted my weary spirit and sent you to renew my joy. I could have no better gift.”

An easy feeling fell over them. The blessing of Christmas love. After Sophrena left for the Shaker worship, Heather held her baby against her shoulder and whispered into his ear. “I will give you never-ending love, my child, just as my mother gave me. Prayers and love.”

He burped in answer and Heather laughed. A good feeling to laugh. “And is that a reminder that it is time for me to give you a name?”

From up in the village, the sound of the Shakers’ singing drifted down to the cabin. She held the baby close against her and went to open the door in order to hear the sounds of worship better. There was joy in the songs. Sophrena had told her that sometimes they gave one another imaginary gifts at their Christmas worship. Things like baskets of love or ribbons of happiness. That would be the gift she would like to unwrap for Sophrena. Happiness.

Perhaps if she had gone with Sophrena to worship, one of the Shaker sisters or brothers would have given her the gift of the best name for her baby. They had already brought him many good gifts. Tactile things she could touch such as bibs and blankets. But how much more important were those gifts that could not be touched.

Had Mary held the Christ child close to her heart when the wise men came bringing their gifts and thought the same? That her own love and that of Joseph’s were better gifts than the gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Then there was the love of God evidenced by a new star in heaven. Surely that was the best gift of all.

God loved her baby too. That was why he had made a way for her. She bent her head and listened to the music of the voices while praying that the Lord was making a way for Gideon.

Sun streamed down on her, but the air was cool. She was turning back inside to settle the baby in his basket when she caught sight of a wagon coming. Dark brown horses with white blazes on their faces like her father’s. She froze and stared at the wagon. Could that be her father sitting so straight and unbending on the wagon seat with Willie beside him? Was she only imagining them because her heart so needed family on this Christmas Day?

She hardly dared breathe as the wagon came closer.
God’s plan
, a voice whispered in her head. Her mother’s voice. Had her father felt her forgiveness? Had that been what drew him here? Pray God it was true.

As they came nearer, there was no doubt it was her father and Willie. The boy was turning to talk to someone in the wagon behind him. Beth stood up and looked toward the cabin. A smile spread across Heather’s face at this beautiful gift coming toward her. Then another person was pulling up to stand behind the wagon seat and Heather’s heart pounded up into her throat. Gideon.

She shouted his name, and clutching the baby close to her, she rushed to meet the wagon with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. On the wagon, Beth grabbed Gideon’s coat when he started to climb over the side, but he jerked free of her grasp and jumped from the wagon. He staggered and nearly fell, but then he found his feet and began running toward Heather.

He was pale with one arm bandaged against his body, but he wrapped the other around her. “My Heather Lou.”

His lips sought hers and Heather sent thanks to the Lord for this Christmas blessing.

The baby was crying and fighting against her. Heather pulled back from Gideon and peeled the blanket away from their baby’s face. Gideon stared down at him with wonder plain on his face. “My son. Jacob.” He touched the baby’s hand and the baby grasped Gideon’s finger and hushed crying.

“Jacob.” Heather looked from the baby to Gideon. “Have you brought him his name?”

“I hope you haven’t already given him another name.” Gideon suddenly looked worried. “I did promise Jake and it’s a promise I must keep.”

She smiled and touched Gideon’s cheek. “I’m glad you want to name him after Jake. I love Jake. He’s all right, isn’t he?”

Gideon looked sad. “He’d tell you that was so, if he could. I watched him die, but he was smiling when he passed over with the morning coming.”

“Simon’s dead too,” Heather said. “And Mother and little Jimmy.” She blinked back more tears. These of sorrow for all they had lost.

“I know. Your father told me.” He gently brushed away her tears.

“We’ll call him Jacob Simon.” She looked down at the baby and smiled. “Jacob Simon Worth.”

Her father spoke from the wagon where they had all been watching Gideon meet his child. His voice was gruff. “Get my grandson back inside before he catches a chill.”

Heather looked up at her father and a laugh bubbled up out of her.

“A chill is no laughing matter.” He wasn’t exactly smiling, but neither was he frowning.

The Shaker silence fled the small cabin as they gathered around the fire and all tried to talk at once. Gideon sat and held his baby. Then Beth took her turn. Willie was satisfied with a peek and Lucas kissed his forehead and declared him a Christmas baby. Finally, Beth laid the baby in their father’s arms.

“Jacob Simon, meet your grandfather,” Beth said.

Their father looked down at the baby and then up at Heather. “I was wrong to chase you from my door.” There was pain in his face.

“Worry not, Father. I forgave you yesterday.” When he looked puzzled, she went on. “The Shakers have a day they call Sacrifice Day when they are to forgive and make atonements for wrongs. So I forgave you. Now I ask you to forgive me in turn for any hurts I caused you and for not being there with Mother when she passed.”

Silence fell over them all as he looked at her and then at Gideon and finally at the baby. “It is time we were a family again.”

Sophrena came through the door in time to hear him. “Family,” she echoed. She looked at them in turn, her expression softening on each one as though she were taking them into her heart. Even Gideon. But especially Lucas who watched her with big eyes, seeing the same thing Heather had seen when she first met Sophrena.

Lucas moved toward her as if drawn by an invisible band. “You look like Mama,” he said.

Sophrena held out her arms to him and he walked into her embrace. “The gift of family,” she said softly as she held the little boy close to her.

Sophrena brought them all food and they ate their Christmas dinner in the cabin. Not silently as she was accustomed to at the Shaker table, but with much talk and much joy. She held the baby and dreaded the meal to be finished, for she knew then they would leave. A family reunited. Gideon and Heather sat touching hands, sharing a special closeness in the midst of the others.

Then the food was eaten, the dishes cleared away. Susan’s husband was standing, saying they must return home before darkness caught them. The baby’s things were packed. His gowns and blankets. All the little gifts. Sophrena stood by the fire and watched. Her arms had never felt so empty. Her heart never so barren.

They were ready to go. Heather came to her. “Come with us.”

“The Lord put me here,” she said.

“He did, but now he has opened a new door to you. Come with us, Aunt Sophrena.”

“I would have no place there.”

“There is always a place for family.” Heather looked at Gideon and then her father.

Susan’s husband looked straight at Sophrena and spoke without hesitation. “We can build houses in the spring.”

They watched her then, waiting. She too was waiting. For what she wasn’t sure.

The young boy, Lucas, ran to put his arms around her waist. “You can be my new mother so Beth can get married to Perry.”

That made the young girl blush. And Sophrena felt a whirl in her head. God’s plan from her first letter reaching out to Susan, to Heather and her baby, and now to this boy who needed her love. A gift. Without a word, she turned and took down her cloak to follow them out the door. Willie helped her up into the wagon filled with hay to soften the bounces. Heather took her hand and kissed it before she settled beside her husband. Lucas and Beth sat down on either side of Sophrena.

Beth took her hand. “You can share my bed, Aunt Sophrena, until we get those houses built.”