A Love Restored

by Goshorn, Kelly;

  Ruth Ann leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Ben. I should’ve known I could depend on you. I won’t keep secrets from you again.”

  Benjamin huddled close. When had she become so important to him that her dreams, her safety, superseded his own?

  Thunder rumbled nearby and the darkening skies prophesied more than rain coming their way. Benjamin could feel it in the air.

  A reckoning was coming.

  ~*~

  Ruth Ann shoved the ivory lace curtain away from the parlor window. Where were they? Sighing, she released the window covering. “They should be home by now.”

  Mama looked up from the embroidery in her lap. “Sit down for heaven’s sake. All this fretting will not bring either Joseph or Benjamin home sooner.”

  “I suppose.” She flopped onto the settee where she could keep watch out the window for them. “I don’t understand what’s taking so long. They’ve been gone nearly two hours.”

  Sarah put her book aside. “I’ll make tea.”

  The swinging doors hadn’t stopped swaying before Ruth Ann renewed her pacing. Buddy lifted his head, his old ears perked. A low throaty bark erupted from his mouth moments before the front door creaked open.

  Ruth Ann spun around in the direction of the foyer where Joseph and Benjamin brushed snow from their outer garments. Winter had finally decided to show its true colors.

  She hurried to Benjamin’s side, stepping back as he yanked a muddy boot free in the wooden jack. “How did the meeting go?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Is that the only greeting your beau gets on a cold winter’s night?”

  She nodded toward the parlor.

  Mama cleared her throat.

  “Evenin’, Mrs. Sutton.”

  “Good evening, Benjamin.” She deposited her embroidery on the side table then stood straightening her skirts. “I’ll help Sarah with the tea and coffee. Please join us in the kitchen.”

  Ruth Ann waited for the soft shuffling of Mama’s shoes to fade then obliged Benjamin with a kiss to his cheek.

  Joseph scanned the room before meeting Ruth Ann’s gaze. A question loomed in his eyes.

  “Sarah is in the kitchen making tea to calm my nerves.” Ruth Ann’s gaze flitted between Joseph and Benjamin. She was anxious for any information. “How did the meeting go? How many people attended? Did they vote to keep the school open?”

  Benjamin rubbed his hands together. “Let’s join Sarah in the kitchen, Ruthie. We’ll tell you everything while we have a drink to warm us up.” His gaze wandered to the parlor hearth. He patted the outside of his thigh. “C’mon, Buddy.”

  Buddy rose from his resting place by the fire. The old dog stretched before ambling after them toward the kitchen, his hind feet slipping on the polished wood floors.

  Ruth Ann smiled. James had always treated Buddy as an unwelcome nuisance. Benjamin, on the other hand, seemed fond of her dog. Her pulse quickened. How could such a simple gesture endear him to her? A warmth spread throughout her body as his calloused hand enveloped hers.

  He brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. “Everything will be fine, Ruthie. Trust me.”

  She did trust him, and with something way more important than her teaching position—her heart.

  Sarah and Mama made quick work of serving the tea and coffee. Too nervous to pour her own drink, Ruth Ann took a seat at the table beside Benjamin.

  Joseph removed his pipe and tobacco bag from his shirt pocket. “It was a good meeting, Ruth Ann.”

  She pressed a hand against her stomach. “It was?”

  “Sheriff Johnson came from Leesburg and brought Captain John Reynolds with him.”

  Mama’s teacup halted midway to her mouth. “Captain?”

  “Yes, he’s a captain in the Army, decorated for valor at Gettysburg. Lost his left arm in the fray. Now he works with the War Department to transition the Freedmen’s Schools to self-governance or with oversight from the American Missionary Society. He’ll board at the Petersons’ while he’s in town.”

  Benjamin added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee and stirred. “We had about twenty men there tonight—Negroes and whites. Most of them volunteered for the safety patrols the captain is establishing.”

  She squirmed in her seat like one of the children in her class waiting for the bell to announce recess. “So the school will remain open?”

  Joseph cocked his head to the side, arms folded tight against his chest. “Yes. In the long run. Assuming you are willing to continue.”

  Her head flinched back slightly. Of course she was willing. “What do you mean, ‘in the long run?’”

  His eyebrows squeezed together. “The school will be closed until after Christmas.”

  Ruth Ann stood abruptly, jarring the table. Teacups clanked against their saucers sloshing hot liquid over the sides. “Not until after Christmas! My students will regress!”

  Mama reached out to right her daughter’s teacup. “Goodness gracious, Ruth. Sit down and let them finish.”

  Benjamin patted her hand. “Captain Reynolds needs to train his replacement, and he doesn’t want the school to operate until the safety patrols are established.”

  Shoulders slumped, she returned to her seat.

  “The captain believes this is best, Ruthie, and it’s only two weeks before the school closes for the Christmas break anyway.”

  Elbows on the table, Ruth Ann hunched forward and sipped her tea. At least she wasn’t being forced to resign. The captain was only looking out for her safety, and the safety of her students, and that was a blessing in itself.

  Mama cleared her throat. “Perhaps by the new year, a suitable Negro teacher will be found.”

  Ruth Ann pressed her eyes closed. Not that again. Weren’t all these precautions arranged to keep the school open with her as the teacher?

  “I understand how much this means to you, Ruth, but the situation is growing increasingly dangerous,” her mother added.

  Benjamin and Joseph exchanged glances.

  Joseph leaned back on the hind legs of his chair. “We’re all concerned about Ruth Ann’s safety. More than a dozen men volunteered to take shifts guarding the Freedmen’s School whenever it’s open, and Tom Hardy offered the use of his smithy as a base for overnight operations. This is a temporary solution until the authorities can find the culprits responsible for the threats against Ruth Ann and the school.”

  Mama clutched the cameo fastened to the collar of her shirtwaist, her eyes darting between the two men. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  Joseph returned his chair legs to the floor. “Silas Hench had the nerve to show up at the meeting—and he wasn’t alone. Levi and Elias Hamilton came also. Levi seemed friendly with him.”

  Ruth Ann quaked at the mention of Silas’ name. She stroked her wrist as if he’d only relinquished his vice-like hold on her moments before. Voice wavering, she whispered, “I can’t believe Elias or his father would be mixed up with these threats.”

  Mama’s voice cracked. “I’m no longer confident Ruth Ann is safe. I think we should reconsider.”

  Ruth Ann widened her eyes, but before she could protest, Benjamin addressed her mother.

  “You have every right to be alarmed, ma’am, but rest assured the captain is taking this very seriously. He is personally overseeing the investigation and the assignment of volunteers. Joseph and I are convinced these provisions will keep everyone safe.”

  Mama knit her brows together, concern etched in the frown lines at the edge of her lips. “You’ll continue to personally escort her to and from evening classes?”

  Benjamin nodded.

  “And you’ll stay with her the entire time?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You have my word. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your daughter safe.”

  Mama’s eyes glistened. “I know you will.” She reached for Joseph’s hand. “I know you both will.”

  14

  Benjamin peeked between the pocket doors. The tr
ee they had cut yesterday afternoon stood proudly in the corner of the parlor, displacing Mrs. Sutton’s wingback chair for the remainder of the Christmas holidays. Fire blazing in the hearth, the scent of pine, cinnamon, and clove lingered in the air. Christmas Eve. Ruth Ann pointed to a spot on the tree for Chloe to hang an ornament. Holly graced the mantel, swags of pine wrapped in ribbon adorned the windowsill, and velvet bows dotted the tree. Everywhere he looked something gold or silver sparkled. The scene reminded him of a Currier & Ives lithograph he’d seen in the newspapers—not reminiscent of the childhood holidays he’d known. It was perfect.

  She was perfect.

  “The first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me…”

  He cringed. Almost perfect.

  Maybe he should’ve bought her a bucket for Christmas so she could carry a tune in it. Grinning, he slid the doors into their nesting space. “What fine decorating you ladies have done since last we met.”

  Ruth Ann spun to face him, eyes wide. “Goodness gracious, Ben, you startled me.”

  He kissed Ruth Ann’s cheek.

  Chloe giggled.

  Benjamin picked up the little moppet, one shoe dropping to the floor as he lifted her high above his head. “And what are you giggling about?”

  She responded with more infectious laughter.

  He lowered the child into his arms and pecked her ringlet-covered head. He glanced to Ruth Ann. “How’s my best girl doing this morning?”

  She smiled. “I—”

  A tiny voice interrupted. “I’m good.”

  Ruth Ann tickled her niece. “Benjamin was speaking to me.”

  Benjamin retrieved a card from the inside pocket of his winter coat. “Charlotte has sent me with an invitation for a Twelfth Night Party. She is hoping you will help decorate. And from what I can tell, she’s chosen the right person.”

  The child’s little hands realigned his face with hers, excitement dancing in her eyes. “What’s a Twef Night Party?”

  “I’m not sure, little miss, but there will be singing and games and treats of all kinds.”

  Ruth Ann tied a burgundy bow to one of the ornaments then held it high, inspecting her work. “Twelfth Night is the eve of the Epiphany and marks the end of the Christmas holidays. Every year Charlotte hosts a party with all the traditional foods and games her grandmother taught her.”

  Anticipation filled Chloe’s eyes. “May I come, too?”

  “I wish I could take you, but your Aunt Ruthie gets terribly jealous.” He winked at Ruth Ann.

  “Aunt Roofie and I are decorating the tree. We’re going to string the popcorn and cranberries this morning too. Do you want to help us?”

  Benjamin boosted Chloe high enough to hang an ornament from one of the taller branches then set her feet back on the rug. “Popcorn and cranberries? Homemade ornaments? I expected fancy store-bought ornaments to go along with all this holiday frippery.”

  Ruth Ann’s lips pinched closed, refraining her speech.

  “What?”

  “My father’s family has a tradition of only using homemade decorations on the tree. Our family has been making cinnamon-clove ornaments since Sarah was a little girl. It’s a tradition I hope to continue when I have children.”

  Benjamin shook his head. He seemed to have a talent for ruffling her feathers lately. “I only meant that your home is so lovely and filled with fine things. I assumed you would want only the best on your tree as well.”

  She raised her chin. “That’s not what you meant.” She handed an ornament to Chloe then pointed to a spot on the tree the child could reach. “You still consider me spoiled.”

  Spoiled? Not exactly. Pampered maybe, but he had no intention of debating the fine nuances of those terms with a teacher. Still he couldn’t help but worry that she romanticized what it would be like to live far from the refined offerings of the east in a tent and wagon. What if she came to resent him when she discovered she’d made a terrible mistake?

  She waved her hand in a circular motion. “I don’t care about any of this. I want more from life than pretty dresses and fine things.”

  He put his arms around her waist and rested his cheek against her temple, an obstinate curl tickling his neck. “I don’t believe you’re spoiled. Honest I don’t. I just don’t think you realize how difficult life in the west will be.”

  Ruth Ann straightened abruptly and wriggled free of his embrace. “Would you like to take a sleigh ride with me? I want to show you something.”

  He nodded. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were bundled and heading north out of town. Ruth Ann gave Benjamin directions but wouldn’t answer any of his questions about their destination. In fact, she didn’t say much during their outing. If it weren’t for the fact her arm intertwined his, he would have thought she was still cross with him.

  “Okay, we’ll see it from the crest of the hill.”

  He reined in the horses. Catoctin Creek snaked its way through the valley below them. Red barns distinguished themselves as majestic structures against uncluttered fields laden with snow. Although beautiful, it didn’t stand out as unusual. Certainly, nothing to inspire the mystery she had placed on their destination.

  Ruth Ann pointed to the right. “Please guide the sleigh to that farmhouse.”

  Dilapidated didn’t begin to describe the rickety log home she had directed him to. Obviously vacant for some time, broken windows and a partially collapsed roof demonstrated years of neglect. More light than chinking was visible between the logs, and the garden, that probably once had been the delight of the woman who lived here, had been reduced to a bed of weeds poking out between layers of ice and snow.

  Ruth Ann exited the sled. “Let’s go inside.”

  “It doesn’t look safe, Ruthie.”

  “You need to watch your step, but its fine. I’ve been here before.”

  Benjamin remained seated, watching Ruth Ann traverse the slight incline. Confusion and disbelief adhered him to the bench.

  Nearing the front steps, she called to him. “Are you coming, or am I going on this adventure by myself?”

  He rubbed his jaw. She was a stubborn woman, but that wasn’t news to Benjamin. He pushed the brake into place before hopping down and hanging the reins over a nearby tree limb.

  “Where are we?”

  She still didn’t answer but motioned for him to follow.

  “Ruthie, wait.”

  She disappeared inside, leaving him no choice but to trail after her.

  Debris littered the inside of the cabin. Cobwebs and dust covered every surface. Snow lay six inches deep in the center of the single room beneath a three-foot hole in the roof. What on earth would attract her to this ramshackle?

  Straddling a rafter that had fallen from the ceiling, she warned him to be careful. “The wood is rotten over there.” She pointed to the unobstructed snow-covered path that stood between them. “Climb over the joist.”

  He complied. “What’s so important we’re going to all this trouble?”

  She stood near the hearth, her hand caressing the oak mantel. Magnificently crafted, scrolls and rosettes adorned the wooden perch.

  Benjamin wiped cobwebs from the edge. Engraved inside a circle were the letters HSJ, the S appearing twice as large as the other two letters. The craftsman’s initials. Below the monogram, etched in smaller letters, was Pr. 28:6.

  Her voice reverent, she pointed to the letters. “HSJ—Harold Joseph Sutton—my grandfather.” She continued stroking the mantel, tenderly embracing the link to her ancestors. “I know you worry that our backgrounds are exceedingly different and that I won’t be able to survive in the west. I wanted to bring you here to show you that we are not as different as you assume.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Generations of Suttons have lived and died on this land since they emigrated from Ireland in 1762. My father was born and raised on this dairy farm. Papa worried mother’s
love of fine things would spoil us. As I told you, he insisted Sarah and I learn how to manage a home, and he brought us here on several occasions so we would never forget our modest heritage.”

  Benjamin took her hand in his. “Sorry, Ruthie. I shouldn’t make assumptions, but I see your fine home, your study filled with books, and your nice clothes, and I wonder what in the world you’re doing with a man like me?”

  Ruth Ann tilted her head until he looked her in the eyes. “You’re a fine, hard-working, intelligent man, Ben.”

  “Ruthie, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.” Benjamin took a deep breath, unsure if he wanted a truthful answer or not. “Why did you refuse James Thornton? He could have supported you very comfortably—given you everything you could ever want.”

  She held his gaze. “You’re right. James could probably give me everything I could ever desire.”

  What a fool. Why had he brought up that dandy anyway?

  “But, he couldn’t give me everything I need.”

  Benjamin narrowed his eyes.

  “What good are nice things if the people you share them with don’t love you?” Ruth Ann pointed to the inscription underneath her grandfather’s initials. “Have you ever read Proverbs 28:6?”

  “Most likely, but I can't quite say I know it by memory.”

  “It says, ‘Better is the poor that walketh in his uprightness, than he that is perverse in his ways, though he be rich.’” She took his hand. “Your story is so much like his—my father’s, I mean. His father struggled to provide for his family. My grandfather couldn’t read, but my father attended the university and became a lawyer and then a judge. Like you, my father grew up on a farm and chose to leave it. Not because it wasn’t good enough, but because he wanted something different.” They stood in silence for a moment. She squeezed his hand. “You are a kind and godly man. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”