The Reluctant Bridegroom

by Shannon Farrington

  He was defending me, she thought, but instead of feeling joy, shame flooded though her. I’ve been so wrong about him. More than once I accused him of being just like my father. Nothing could be further from the truth. She tried to voice her thoughts. “Henry, my father—”

  “Shh,” he soothed her. “It’s all right. You don’t have to worry about anything concerning him. For now, darling, just rest. We can speak more on that subject later if you like. You’ll feel stronger in a day or two.”

  Darling...not a contrived my dear. He was speaking from his heart. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry... I misjudged you so...”

  “Shh,” he said once more. “There is no need for that, no need...”

  “You are such a good man.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m far from it. I’m simply a forgiven man.” Leaning close, he kissed her again on the forehead. “And I love you.”

  Closing her eyes, Rebekah let his words, his scent wash over her. Before long she fell asleep. The nightmares that had plagued her previously did not invade her mind this time. Rebekah instead found herself dreaming of pleasant things. Kathleen was romping through a field of daylilies. Grace was rocking back and forth on her plump little legs, crawling for the first time.

  When Rebekah awoke, it was evening. Twilight had colored the sky orange and purple. The curtains danced at the windowsill, a steady breeze blowing, but Rebekah no longer felt chilled. Henry was still at his post, seated in the chair beside her.

  She smiled at the sight of him. He grinned in return. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  Rebekah shifted beneath her blankets. Her arms and legs no longer felt so weak, but she was ravenously hungry. She told him. Henry leaned his head back and laughed. The sound was like music to her ears.

  “That’s a good sign,” he said. “Kathleen herself is much the same. I believe you are both truly on the mend.”

  Thank You, God. Thank You... Rebekah noticed then the Bible spread open across his lap. She was curious. “What were you reading?” she asked.

  “Romans,” he said. “It’s my favorite book.”

  His favorite? She’d read the Scriptures as commanded, but could she really say she had a favorite book? So many of the passages reminded her of her shortcomings. And the verses of peace, joy, a gentle and quiet spirit? That was something she had never been able to obtain. The Bible condemns me more than it comforts.

  “Chapter eight is my particular favorite,” Henry said.

  “Why is that?”

  “The Apostle Paul has just laid out how impossible it is to keep God’s law, how one can never live up to His holy standards, and then he tells us God loves us anyway, that those who’ve asked for His mercy are no longer condemned.”

  No longer condemned...?

  “Christ took the punishment for the wrongs we have done.”

  Rebekah nodded in agreement. All this she knew. “So that we might spend eternity in Heaven.”

  Henry nodded in return. “Yes, but so that we might also know His love, His peace, here on earth.”

  Know His love? God was a father. Rebekah understood mercy, a reprieve from eternal punishment, but love?

  Henry leaned closer. She could see the earnestness in his eyes. “God doesn’t see you as a failure or an inconvenience, darling. You are His daughter. He thought you were worth dying for. He’d have gone to the cross just for you. That’s how much He loves you.”

  The words gripped her heart. Jesus would have died to rescue her alone? She could see God giving His life for Kathleen or Grace or Henry, but for her? It was simply incomprehensible.

  “What your father displayed to you, what he did, is not a representation of true fatherhood.”

  Deep down, Rebekah knew Henry was speaking truth. She knew it because of what she’d seen him display toward Kathleen and Grace. But to believe that God loved her in spite of her temper, her impatience, her resistance to authority? She couldn’t believe that. He might have saved my soul from eternal darkness, but isn’t He eagerly waiting for my character to improve? And isn’t Henry waiting, as well?

  Heat crept up her neck. Here her husband had just told her he loved her, had just spent the last several days caring for her needs, and she couldn’t even properly thank him, let alone express all she was feeling inside. Why couldn’t she tell him how the sight of his smile made her practically giddy or how cherished she had felt when she opened her eyes to find him still watching over her?

  Henry closed the Bible and laid it on the table beside his chair. “You said you were hungry.” He rose. “I’ll fetch you something.”

  * * *

  Henry could see the wheels turning in his wife’s mind. She was puzzling through what he had said, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it applied to her. He wondered what type of relationship he would have with God if he had grown up in a household where both parents had been cold.

  Most likely I would see the Heavenly Father as indifferent and as stern as she does.

  More than anything, Henry wanted Rebekah to find the peace that he had. His character was far from perfect, and his future was uncertain. He had two young children dependent on him and had probably made a powerful man very angry because he had not agreed to assist in his gubernatorial campaign. Henry’s city was still as fraught with tension as it had been the day of Lincoln’s assassination, and no one knew what would happen if the convicted conspirators were actually executed.

  Theodore Van der Geld may very likely take it upon himself to go digging up my past associations and try to connect them to any rabble-rousers should there be trouble.

  But Henry was not fearful, not this time. He knew God was with him and with his family. I know the road ahead may not be easy, Lord, but I trust You will give me the courage and the wisdom to travel it. Give Rebekah the same.

  He brought her a bowl of soup. After she had eaten it, she asked if she might borrow his Bible. Henry took that as an encouraging sign. “Of course,” he said. Removing the tray, he then handed the book to her. “I’ll leave you to the quiet. I’ll look in on Kathleen.”

  “Give her a kiss for me,” she said.

  “I’d be happy to.”

  As he moved toward the door, he could hear Rebekah turning the delicate Scripture pages. He wondered what she was looking for, exactly. He wondered if she would notice he’d written her name alongside his in the marriage record. He had listed Grace and Kathleen as their children, as well.

  Henry couldn’t help but wonder if the day would ever come when he would add another name to that list. He certainly hoped so, but for now it was too early even to think about having more children together.

  The night that passed was a peaceful one. Both Kathleen and Rebekah slept soundly for the first time in days. Henry looked in on them several times before taking to his own bed. Sleep claimed him almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

  Morning dawned on not only a brand new day but also a new month. The strong July sun made the upstairs rooms feel like a bread oven. Kathleen jumped at Henry’s invitation to join him in the shade of the garden. Rebekah was equally delighted. After Hannah had helped her into a comfortable sacque dress and pinned up her curls, Henry carried Rebekah downstairs.

  “I think I could manage the walk today,” she said.

  It wasn’t a protest, but rather a statement of hope. Henry was thankful she was feeling stronger, but he wasn’t going to forgo the opportunity to hold her close, especially when she smelled of lavender water and fit so perfectly in his arms.

  “Why waste your strength navigating the staircase when you could spend it picking flowers?” he asked.

  She smiled softly. Henry wanted to kiss her right then and there but held back. At present she was captive in his arms, and he wasn’t going to press forward with affection until he was absolutely c
ertain she wished him to do so. She no longer flinched, but nervousness still darkened her cheeks whenever he touched her.

  He settled her in a chair beneath the oak tree. When Rebekah was slow to slide her hands from his neck, Henry’s heart beat a little faster.

  “It’s good to be outside again,” she said.

  “The fresh air will do you good.”

  It was already doing so for Kathleen. Eyes bright, smile wide, she was poking the dirt with a stick, searching for inchworms. He and Rebekah watched her for a moment in silence before Rebekah asked, “When will you bring Grace home?”

  “When do you wish for her to return?”

  “Now,” she said. “Yesterday.”

  He smiled at her. “I miss her as much as you do, but now might be a little too soon. You need to regain your strength to be able to see to her care. What if I ask Julia to keep Grace until Monday?”

  “What day is it now?”

  “Saturday.”

  He recognized the look on her face, the regret over lost time. The week had been as much a blur for him as it was her.

  “I suppose that is best,” Rebekah said. “I can’t believe she’s been away so long...”

  He sensed where her thoughts were headed. Kneeling down, he rested his arms upon his raised leg. “Don’t worry. While it is true Grace may feel a little out of sorts from being passed about, I’m confident you’ll soon have her smiling again.”

  She looked at him with eyes full of amazement. Dare he think even admiration? “You think so highly of me. Why?”

  “Because I love you.” Rising slowly, this time he did not kiss her forehead. He kissed her cheek. Henry heard her sigh. Lingering, he hoped she would turn her face toward him, meet his lips. She did not, however, so he backed away and stood upright.

  “I’ll send Sam and Julia word,” he said. “I’ll ask them to bring Grace on Monday.”

  “Thank you.” Her words seemed to hold more meaning than the obvious, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t.

  Give her time, he thought. He returned to the house. After scratching out a letter to the Wards, he gathered up the newspapers. He figured Rebekah would want to catch up on what had been happening in the world. Tucking them under his arm, Henry went to find James. He would ask the man to deliver the Wards’ letter. Then he would return to the garden.

  Henry stepped into the foyer to find James already taking charge of a missive. Immediately his muscles tensed, for the person delivering the particular letter was Rebekah’s former maid, Fiona. So communication from the Van der Geld household has finally come, he thought.

  Fiona curtseyed when she saw him. “Mornin’, Councilman Nash. I brought a letter for Miss Rebekah.”

  James handed it to him. Henry tried to smile. “Thank you, James, and thank you, Fiona. You are looking well.”

  She blushed slightly and curtseyed again. “Thank you, sir. You are very kind. I’d best be off. The missus will be lookin’ for me. A good day to ya.”

  “And to you, Fiona.”

  When she had gone, James shut the door and then asked about the other envelope in Henry’s hand. Henry explained the details concerning Grace.

  “Yes, sir. I can deliver that to Mr. Ward right now.” Taking it, James quickly headed out.

  Henry stared then at the remaining envelope. He had accepted it graciously from Fiona but was not eager at all to deliver it to his wife. Despite recovering still from her illness and missing Grace, Rebekah seemed happy. He did not wish to do anything to change that.

  Henry did not know if the communication from the Van der Geld household would be charitable or chastising. Given the history, he suspected it would be the latter, so he slipped the envelope into his coat pocket. Deciding to keep it there, at least for now, he returned to the garden.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The dappled sunlight danced over Rebekah while a warm breeze caressed her face. She told herself she should be content. Grace was well and would be coming home soon. Henry had promised such. He missed Grace as much as she did, but his delay in fetching the baby was due to his concern for her. Henry wanted to be certain Rebekah was well recovered before resuming the challenges of motherhood.

  He shows me such kindness. And how can he think I am beautiful when I feel anything but? And his confidence in me? He was so certain she’d be able to settle Grace upon her return. No one has ever believed in me as he does. He does not lord my mistakes over me. He never even mentions them!

  Henry came back into the garden. He was carrying a stack of newspapers. “James delivered my message to the Wards,” he said, “and I thought you might be interested in these.”

  She was indeed. She knew before falling ill that the trial of the conspirators was to conclude any day. She was particularly interested in finding out what was to become of Mary Surratt. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that.”

  Henry gave them to her, then went to join Kathleen. She was still digging in the dirt, searching for worms. As he sat down beside her, she handed him a stick. He happily accepted it. Watching, Rebekah couldn’t help but smile. What other statesman would think poking in the garden with a four-year-old child worth his time?

  Especially when the newspapers are proclaiming such perilous headlines...

  Three of the Lincoln conspirators had been sentenced to prison at a remote army fort in the Gulf of Mexico. The other four, including former hospital patient Lewis Powell and the widowed mother Mary Surratt, had been sentenced to hang.

  Rebekah read further. David and Elizabeth’s paper talked of a petition drive to commute Surratt’s sentence to life in prison. Another publication predicted civil unrest if that happened. Still another projected rioting in the streets if the hanging was carried out. Rebekah laid the papers aside. The war might have ended, but peace has yet to come to Baltimore, or to me.

  Henry loved her. He had proclaimed such and had demonstrated it by his continued care. She could see the longing in his eyes when he looked at her, felt the quickness of his breath when he was near. When he had kissed her face just moments ago, Rebekah had wanted nothing more than to turn to him and lose herself in his embrace.

  But once again, she held her back for reasons not even known to her.

  Why do I still feel so agitated? What is keeping me from him? What was keeping her from the God Henry had spoken of? Did she think His love would fail to be as liberating as her husband claimed?

  Rebekah couldn’t help but remember then what Henry had said: that when God looked at her, He saw not her sins and failures. He saw His son’s likeness. The verse she’d read afterward came back to her, as well. “There is therefore now no condemnation for those that are in Christ Jesus.”

  No condemnation...that meant acceptance, just the way she was, flaws and all. It meant feeling secure in such a love. Rebekah wanted that, desperately.

  Still...

  From across the garden, Henry must have seen the look of distress on her face. He returned to her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I was just reading the headlines.”

  He frowned slightly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought them to you, at least not yet, given the subject matter. But I knew you had been following the trial.”

  The events surrounding President Lincoln’s death had been a reminder of Henry’s lowest moments, of his most questionable character. Yet he no longer seeks to hide that fact. He has never once denied me the ability to follow the trial. Again, Rebekah marveled at her husband’s humble spirit.

  “I was following it,” she said, “and I thank you for bringing them. It’s just...” How was she to voice all that was swirling inside? Did she even truly wish to do so? The last thing she wanted was for Henry to think she was still angry with him or that her doubts were directed at him. “So much is happening... So much
could happen.”

  “I know,” he said, kneeling down beside her. Evidently he thought she was still speaking of the trial. “The council is concerned, as well. George Meriwether has been keeping me abreast of the situation.”

  “I suppose you’ll be going back to work now,” Rebekah said, though deep down she dreaded the thought.

  “The council can manage without me,” he said. “I would rather be here.”

  “Here?” Had he really just said that?

  Henry smiled. “George and the others are trusted men. They will do what is best for the city. Don’t misunderstand me. I value my position on the council greatly, and I care deeply about what happens to the people of this city. But darling, I love you. You are more important to me.”

  You are more important... Her heart swelled. “So what you said about moving to Ohio was true? You have no interest in advancing politically?”

  “I was offering to move for your sake. I don’t want you living in a politician’s shadow any longer.” Earnestness was written all over his face. So was something else. Love. Pure, self-sacrificing, glorious love. “Rebekah, I once let my associations, my fear of public opinion, rule my actions. But what others may think of me now is of no consequence. My only concern is your happiness.”

  Suddenly it made sense. It all fit together. Everything she had been reading, everything he had said, everything she had seen. Henry wanted to give up his prestige, his power for her. It was the same in regard to Christ. He had left Heaven, allowed Himself to be nailed to a cross, had even died an agonizing death not because it was His duty, or because His own Father insisted on it, but because He wanted to do so. He wanted to demonstrate His love for me!

  Her defenses crumbled. Tears sprang to her eyes, tears not of shame but of wonder. Henry didn’t know that, however, and he immediately took her hand. “Darling, please don’t cry. We don’t have to go to Ohio if you don’t want to do so. We could—”