“Nay, of course not,” Rose said, surprised by her own flustered reaction.
“I am sorry if I offended,” Patience said. “It’s just that I take my work very seriously, and interruptions bring delays and mistakes. I’m sure you understand.”
Rose was beginning to feel as if they had switched roles and she were the one in need of confession. “Of course, Patience, we all feel the connection between our work and the worship of God,” she said. “But work is not the only way—nor perhaps the most important way—to live our faith. To create heaven on earth, we strive to live like the angels—as you know, of course,” she added as Patience’s features tightened. “The angels are, above all, loving creatures. They guide us, speak to us, watch over us. We live in community in part to care for one another, and my being concerned about you is nothing more than my own effort to imitate the angels. When I urge the sisters to speak their confessions, and when I unburden myself in confession, it is for the purification of our souls, which is surely every bit as important as work.”
Patience shifted on the grass and smoothed her apron, which had become twisted. Rose studied her profile. The smooth skin, tanned to a light olive, stretched over fine bones. Only the thin gray streaks showing at the edges of her cap and the fine lines around her pinched eyes showed Patience to be older than Rose. Perhaps she was resentful about being lectured to by a younger eldress. Rose softened her approach.
“Truly, I only want to know you better, Patience. It is both my job and my own desire to know all the sisters as fully as I can.”
Patience directed those murky gray eyes at her again. “How well do you think you know all the sisters?” she asked. “You and Wilhelm both, how well do you know your Society?”
Something told Rose not to answer.
“Sister Elsa Pike, for example. How much do you know of her so-called gifts?”
Rose’s spine relaxed, but only slightly. To buy time, she rearranged her legs under the loose skirt of her work dress. “Elsa’s desires are well known to me,” she said.
“She seems loyal to Wilhelm, yet she plays the two of you against one another; are you aware of that?”
“I believe her loyalty to be genuine,” Rose said. Indeed, Elsa’s ambition and loyalty to Wilhelm were all that Rose believed to be genuine, but she hesitated to reveal that to Patience.
“I’m sure you noticed that unholy attraction between Benjamin and Irene at the Union Meeting—that could not have escaped even an unworldly Shaker.”
“I am not so unworldly as you seem to think,” Rose blurted out. She could hear the anger in her own voice. This will not do, Rose told herself. She is attacking, and I am letting her draw me into the fight. She allowed herself several even breaths before continuing.
“I saw what there was to see,” she said.
“There is more than can be seen,” Patience said. “There is much to be known about all of them. Gossip sickens me, but I am disturbed by what is tolerated in this village. At least in Mount Lebanon, Believers were under closer watch. Here their worst, most sinful natures are rising to the surface, and you and Wilhelm do nothing. Wilhelm only dreams backwards and doesn’t know a true gift from a false one. You do not even see what is in front of you.” Patience’s eyes glittered like flames licking smoke. Rose resisted the urge to edge away from her.
“I see what you do not,” Patience said. “But then, I have help that you do not. The angels speak to me, all day and night. I see the evil that infects this village.”
“And what have the angels told you to do about this evil?” Rose asked, careful to speak without a hint of mockery. She could not know if Patience was mad or inspired or something else altogether, and she wanted to find out whatever she could from the sister.
Patience’s smile hinted at inner knowing. “Nothing. Yet. They—and I—hope that it will not be necessary, that you will finally see the truth and root out the evil yourself.”
“It would help greatly if you would tell me what you see that I do not.”
“I’m sure it would,” Patience said. She pulled herself to her feet and brushed the grass from her skirt. “I have received no instructions to help you. But perhaps, at the right time, I could try to point you in the right direction. And if you are wondering about my gifts, whether they are true or false, I suggest you ask Agatha. She is the only true holy one among you. Now, if you don’t mind, I am falling behind in my work.”
Rose watched her tall, strong body stride toward the Medicinal Herb Shop. Patience might be deranged, deluded, or simply arrogant, but she had confirmed Rose’s vague sense that all was not right with the new group of Believers.
“How long has Patience been fasting?” Rose asked. She’d sent all the kitchen sisters but Gertrude to their retiring rooms for an afternoon rest. The heat was especially hard on sisters whose rotation kept them trapped in close quarters.
“Oh goodness, forever,” said the Kitchen Deaconess. “Or it seems that way. She ate normally when she first arrived, but it wasn’t more than maybe a month before I started noticing she was skipping meals and only pretending to eat when she did show up.” Gertrude hooked the handle of a frying pan on a wall peg, then adjusted it slightly so its newly shined surface caught the sunlight.
“I do enjoy a sparkling pan, don’t you?”
“One of life’s little pleasures,” Rose said. “We were talking about Patience. Could she really have been fasting for two months?” Rose leaned over the large worktable to wipe bread crumbs from its nicked surface.
“Nay, of course not,” Gertrude said, as she splashed around in the dishwater, looking for items to scrub. “Goodness, after two months, she should be dead!” She stopped splashing. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean . . . I only meant that I know for a fact she hasn’t fasted the whole time. Sometimes she’d go a whole week eating regular, then she’d stop again.” Gertrude wiped her hands on her damp apron and began to dry the last few dishes. “It’s almost like she was practicing or something, to see what it felt like. Really, it’s only the last couple of weeks or so she’s gotten steadier about the fasting.”
“So it’s been since before Nora and Betsy became ill?”
“Yea, I’m sure of that. In fact, now that you mention it, that was right about the time I noticed something different about Patience. I wondered if she might be ill because she’d started to look a little wild—you know, like when someone has a high fever, and they—”
The swinging door that led to the dining room squeaked, and Brother Hugo shambled in. “I see I’ve been caught,” he said, “stalking the bread and jam.”
Normally a kitchen sister would have scolded any Believer too fond of between-meal snacks, but for Hugo to show any appetite lately was cause for rejoicing. Over the past month, illness had reduced his once impressive girth to folds of loose skin. He had insisted on staying in his own retiring room, rather than move to the Infirmary, but he rarely came to meals anymore. The kitchen sisters brought trays up to him, many of which returned untouched.
“You sit right down,” Gertrude ordered, “and I’ll hunt up that bread and jam for you. Could you chew on a bit of cheese? Are you sure? I suppose it is hard on the stomach. Never mind, here’s some lovely brown bread, and I’ll just get you a fresh jam.” She disappeared inside the pantry, then reappeared holding a glass canning jar.
“I know the peach is your favorite,” she said, “but I’m afraid we used the last of it just this morning. However, I have a treat for you!” She held up the jar and grinned. Hugo, whose eyes were failing him, blinked and smiled politely.
“Is that one of your experimental herb jellies?” Rose asked.
“Peppermint! Isn’t it lovely? And it’ll soothe your stomach, too, Hugo, I’m sure of it.” She placed the jar on the table within his reach, and Hugo picked it up and turned it in his hand. He did not look eager.
“You’re certain the peach is all gone?”
Gertrude nodded.
“And the apple butter?”
/>
“I’m afraid so, this time of year. But, Hugo, I promise you’ll love this. It’ll be just like eating candy! Try it. Here, let me.”
Gertrude cut two thick slices of bread and slathered jelly on both of them. To Rose, the pale greenish-brown substance looked unappetizing, and the thought of sugary peppermint on her morning bread made her consider the positive points of fasting, but Hugo liked his sweets. Maybe it would be just the right treat for him.
Hugo sniffed the bread, then took a bite and chewed slowly. He swallowed, nodded. Rose and Gertrude waited.
“Not at all bad,” he said. “In fact, surprisingly good.” He took another bite.
As Gertrude, humming happily, turned back to the dishes, Rose pulled a chair to the end of the table.
“As long as you’re here, Hugo, could I borrow your memory for a few minutes?”
“What there is left of it, Rose. I’m afraid the last month is nothing but a blur.” He finished one slice of bread and licked his fingers.
“I just wondered about a young hired hand who is working in the Medicinal Herb Shop, Willy Robinson. Andrew said you’d spent some time talking with him. What was your impression of him?”
“Ah, young Willy. In fact, he sought me out, and we had several chats. Seems a nice young man, full of questions.” Hugo frowned at his second slice of bread. “Willy is not so simple as he appears.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, his knowledge of traditional herbal cures, for one. But it’s more than that. It’s the way he approached me.” Hugo pulled off a crusty corner and nibbled it. Rose waited, torn between wanting him to eat and impatience to hear about Willy.
“He talked about all sorts of topics before he asked what he really wanted. He really wanted to know about his parents.”
“His parents? Somehow I thought they were dead.”
“They are now. But first they left him with his grandmother and came to North Homage to become Believers. That was in 1916 or so—I know because I looked up their names on the covenant for him. They signed with Xs in the fall of 1917, and they’d have spent about a year in the gathering order beforehand.”
“How old was Willy when they left him?”
“Must have been about five years old, maybe six. He remembers them, but some of the memories sound like they were fed to him by the grandmother. He says they were good, honest people, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Said that several times in the exact same words, as though he’d memorized them. Apparently the neighbors in his hollow spread it around that they had been shiftless, dishonest, and violent. In Willy’s hearing, they’d say that the acorn wouldn’t have fallen far from the tree.”
“Did Willy tell you why he had to leave home?”
Hugo nodded. “That’s why he was so curious about his parents, you see. He hoped to clear their name, and his own in the process.”
As Hugo swallowed the last of his snack, his eyes half closed. Rose thought he was falling asleep. “You know, it’s odd,” Hugo said, as Rose reached for his empty plate. “It’s odd that I never knew Willy existed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I knew both of them, after all—Willy’s parents. They never mentioned a child.”
“If they’d abandoned him, perhaps they didn’t want to admit it,” Rose said.
“But why even abandon him? We’d have raised him. If they truly wanted to become Believers, why not bring the child along? It makes me suspect the rumors were true. At the time they arrived, some Believers suspected they were just winter Shakers, wanting hot meals and a roof over their heads until spring. When they signed the covenant, the rumor was that Willy’s father was just trying to get out of serving in the war.
“Ah, but who’s to say what they would have done in the long haul. They both died in the influenza epidemic of 1918, the only ones we lost. My guess is, they hadn’t lived with us long enough to recover from lifetimes of poor eating, so they were weaker than the rest of us.” Hugo laid a hand on his greatly reduced stomach. “And speaking of weak,” he said, “my digestion isn’t what it once was. I’d better put myself to bed for a nap.”
“Shall I call in one of the brethren to help you?”
“Nay, I’ll be fine.” Hugo eased to his feet and steadied himself on the table. Rose reached toward him, but Hugo shook his head and managed a weak smile. “I’ll be all right, Rose. Just need to let my stomach settle.”
Rose blinked back tears as she watched him shuffle toward the door. She didn’t want him to hear her grief; it would only sadden him, and he needed his strength. Her resolve cracked, though, when she turned and saw Gertrude’s streams of silent tears.
“Does Patience truly have the power to heal, do you think?” Gertrude asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I was wondering . . .” Gertrude sniffled, then wiped her wet cheeks with the corner of her apron. “I was just thinking maybe we could ask her to try with Hugo.”
“Perhaps,” Rose said, wishing she believed it would do any good.
NINE
BY LATE AFTERNOON, ROSE MADE SURE SHE’D RETURNED TO the Ministry House library to await Gennie Malone’s arrival. Even with the curtains closed and the lights out, the room glowed with sunshine. A copy of Mother Ann’s sayings lay facedown on her lap as she sat caught up in her own thoughts. The interview with Patience still disturbed her. She had some clues to act upon, true, but she had learned nothing about Patience herself. Except that she was a clever, intense woman.
The outside door clicked open and shut.
“Gennie? I’m in here,” Rose called through the open door of the library. Too late, she realized the steps were too heavy for a petite young woman. Wilhelm filled the doorframe.
“I am glad that thy work is so light as to allow thee time to relax and visit with old friends,” he said.
Rather than be drawn into a battle, Rose stood and returned her book to its place. She hung her chair from a peg and began to straighten the room, hoping Wilhelm would leave without demanding further explanation—and before Gennie arrived. Instead, Wilhelm entered the room and pulled a book from the shelf, almost as if he knew all her hopes and was determined to dash them.
“I’m astonished at thy calmness,” Wilhelm said. “After what has just happened. But then, I suppose the brethren are of no concern to thee.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hugo, of course,” Wilhelm said. “He just became very ill and slipped into a coma. He managed to get to the phone in the hallway and call for help. Some of the brethren came in from their work and carried him to the Infirmary. I’m surprised Josie did not call thee.”
“I am saddened to hear this,” Rose said. Unwilling to expose her heart to Wilhelm, she fought back quick tears. Despite a prick of guilt, she did not mention that she had exhausted Hugo by keeping him talking. Wilhelm was not above shifting the blame for Hugo’s collapse in her direction. She said only, “I’ll consult with Josie later.”
“If it fits in thy busy schedule, by all means. Are thy preparations for the sweeping gift completed?” he asked, before Rose could react to his barb. Wilhelm scanned a page in the book instead of her face.
“Yea,” Rose said, “I’ll speak with all the sisters this evening about the ritual. But I still don’t understand why, now of all times, we should—”
“Call it an inspiration,” Wilhelm said, smiling into his book.
Rose thought it wise to withdraw and wait for Gennie upstairs. She chose a book to take to her retiring room for evening study.
“By the way,” Wilhelm said, just as she reached the door, “I’ve spoken briefly with Elsa and Patience about following behind thee in the sweeping. Then, if thy energy flags—or perhaps a desire to stop and chat comes upon thee—they can take over leading the ceremony. They were agreeable.”
“No doubt,” Rose said.
Hearing the ice in her voice, Wilhelm glanced up at her. “These ceremonies are deeply important to our strength, our common und
erstanding as a Society. I want the sweeping to be conducted with the utmost devotion, by Believers who do not waver in their commitment to—”
“My devotion is passionate, which God can see, even if you cannot. Furthermore, I will not have you interfering with the sisters anymore. They are my responsibility. I know your motives in this, and they are far from pure.”
Wilhelm slammed his book shut.
“I will arrange the sisters’ parts in the sweeping,” Rose said quickly, as Wilhelm sucked in air to blast her. “In case you have forgotten, we are all equals in the eyes of our Mother and Father, and I will not allow two sisters to be pitted against one another just so you can feel that Mother Ann’s Work is with us again.”
Wilhelm’s fingers kneaded his book, and his half-closed eyes skewered the wall above Rose’s head. He said nothing. But it was his faint smile that nipped Rose’s fury. She knew that smile.
“We will not discuss this any further,” she said. “I will do as I think best.” She spun out the door and slammed into Gennie Malone. Gennie leaped back and questioned her with wide brown eyes. In silent agreement, they hurried upstairs to Rose’s retiring room and closed the door behind them.
Rose sank into her desk chair, while Gennie threw herself onto a nearby rocker and giggled. “It’s so comforting to know,” Gennie said, “that mountains may wear down, but Wilhelm will never change.”
“Comforting from a distance, perhaps,” Rose said. She reached over for Gennie’s hand and squeezed it. Gennie had a way of calming Rose’s temper as no one else could—except Agatha, of course.
“Any changes in Nora and Betsy?” Gennie asked.
“Yea, Josie says they have both come around, thank God, but neither seems to remember what happened.” Rose did not mention Hugo’s apparent collapse. She never knew if Wilhelm’s announcements were to be taken at face value, and she preferred to assess Hugo’s condition for herself before alarming others.
“I’m sorry to drag you into the middle of this mess,” Rose said.
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