Sins of a Shaker Summer

by Deborah Woodworth

  Andrew’s story about his family and his denial of a special relationship with Patience remained unchanged. “As you well know,” he concluded, “her information was often inaccurate.”

  “Not always,” Rose pointed out. “Benjamin, she found out you were planting poisonous herbs, didn’t she? That’s what you had mapped out in the back of your journal, which Patience copied. Did she threaten to expose you unless you provided her with sufficient jimsonweed to enhance her trances?”

  Benjamin’s boyish features hardened. He shot a resentful look at Andrew and shrugged. “I could have done a lot of good with those herbs.”

  “They are dangerous,” Rose said, “and it is illegal to put them in cures without revealing their presence.”

  “I know what I’m doing. Maybe they are dangerous in the hands of others, but not in mine. Patience was a fool. To tell you the truth, I suspected she would kill herself eventually, she was so determined to explore those gifts of hers. She actually thought Mother Ann had told her about my herbs just so she could have a supply of jimsonweed.”

  “But the jimsonweed didn’t kill her,” Rose said.

  “Nay, and neither did I,” Benjamin said. “Why don’t you ask Thomas about his arguments with Patience?”

  “We didn’t argue.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Willy said, ducking his head as if he expected to be chastised for speaking up. “I heard you from the garden a few days ago. Couldn’t hear what you said, but you sounded plenty mad.”

  “I’d bet they were arguing about Irene,” Benjamin said. “I mean, Sister Irene. He won’t leave her alone.”

  “I won’t leave her alone. Look who’s talking.” Thomas stepped forward, fists curling tightly. Benjamin rose to meet him.

  Andrew touched Thomas’s rigid arm. “Brethren, remember your vows,” he said. “And ask yourselves how much extra confession time you want to fill this evening at the purging worship.”

  Both men relaxed and stood back. “Anyway,” Thomas said, “I had no reason to kill Patience. Irene and I are finished. I only want my children to be taken proper care of, that’s all. You and Irene can run off together for all I care, but leave the children here.”

  Rose was ready to jump out of her skin with impatience. Her conjectures were being confirmed, one by one, but she was no closer to learning who might have smashed Patience on the back of her head and killed her. Before she could turn her attention to Willy, the shop’s telephone rang. Andrew answered, listened briefly, and hung up.

  “We’re all called back to the dining room,” Andrew reported. “Wilhelm ordered the evening meal moved an hour early, so we can gather in the Meetinghouse before the rain comes in.”

  Her time was up. She had failed, and Wilhelm would have his way. Rose had not felt such despair since Agatha’s first stroke. The medicinal herb brethren went back to their various projects, so their work could be brought to a conclusion in the short time left before the bell rang.

  Willy followed Rose out the door and did not immediately veer off to the garden. He walked along beside her in silence for a few moments, then said, “I know you’re real busy, ma’am, but I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

  “Of course,” Rose said.

  “It’s about Gennie. I know she’s not a Shaker sister like you, but I wondered if she’s promised to anyone.”

  His voice held a poignant hopefulness, and Rose wanted to be gentle with him. “Yea, I’m afraid Gennie is spoken for. But I know you’ll find someone just as nice.”

  Willy nodded slowly, not showing great surprise. “She sure is nice,” was all he said.

  He continued to walk beside her as they neared the central path. “Willy,” she prodded him, “was there something else you wanted to talk about with me?”

  Willy stopped and faced her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at the dry dirt of the path with one scuffed shoe. “Yeah, it’s about Brother Hugo.”

  “I’m so sorry, Willy, I’d forgotten that you spent a lot of time with Hugo. You must have felt very sad when he died.”

  Willy nodded and kicked harder. “There’s something been preying on my mind,” he said. “I went to see him when he was feeling so poorly, you know, before he got real sick. He was telling me everything he could remember about my ma and pa, and he’d look in his old books, too, the ones he wrote in a long time ago, so’s he’d remember better. He was really nice to me. The nicest thing he said to me was, I wasn’t like my pa. He said I work real hard and I don’t tell lies. All I remembered about Pa was, he used to haul off and hit me any time he got mad. But I still felt bad that him and Ma went off without me. I figured Ma didn’t want me, neither. Hugo, he said Ma did the right thing by getting Pa away and leaving me with Granny. That way Granny could teach me to be gentle, Hugo said. He said sometimes mothers love their children so much they have to give them up to protect them.”

  “Hugo was very wise,” Rose said. She was aware of the moments flying by. “Was there anything else?”

  “Yeah.” Willy grimaced. “I hope I didn’t do wrong. Hugo asked me to do it, and I figured anything Hugo wanted me to do was okay. But then Brother Andrew asked me if I’d been taking any of the herbs, which I never did, but I felt like I’d done something wrong.”

  “What? What did you do?”

  “I . . . Hugo asked me to sneak into the Medicinal Herb Shop one night and get all the journals and bring them to him, just for a few hours. Which I did. And then I brought them back real quiet, so nobody would know they was gone.”

  “Why did he want to see them?” Rose felt her heart perk up with hope. “Did he tell you what he learned from them?”

  “Not straight out, he didn’t.”

  “Tell me exactly what he said, as best you can remember,” Rose urged.

  “Oh, I can remember, because it struck me odd. He said, ‘Shades of Nathan Sharp.’ I asked who was Nathan Sharp, and he said, no one I needed to worry about, just someone from long ago. Hugo said he’d be talking to Wilhelm about it soon, but he promised I wouldn’t get into trouble.”

  “When was this?”

  “Right before he got real sick. I don’t know if he ever talked with Wilhelm. Did I do the right thing? Maybe I should’ve told you earlier.”

  “You did fine, Willy.”

  A quick and carefully worded call to Wilhelm from the Center Family Dwelling House told her that Hugo had never spoken with him about what he learned from the journals. She cut off the conversation before Wilhelm could ask any questions. Next she stopped in Agatha’s room.

  “Nathan Sharp is a familiar name,” Rose said, “but I don’t recall the story.”

  “Ah, Nathan Sharp. That incident happened at least a hundred years ago, but still new enough when I was a young sister. He was a trustee at Union Village in Ohio. One day he took off, absconding with cash and property belonging to the Society. Others had done the same thing, of course, but he always stood out in our minds.”

  Rose felt her legs lose strength, and she sank onto Agatha’s desk chair. A trustee who defrauded his Society. If Hugo had examined all the journals from the Medicinal Herb Shop, he must have seen Andrew’s, too. Somehow he must have seen evidence that Andrew was cheating North Homage. It was tougher now that Shaker holdings were no longer in the trustees’ names, but it was not impossible. She cursed her own heart that had not allowed her to view Andrew as a serious suspect. Patience and Hugo must both have known, and he must have killed them. He tried to make both murders look like accidents, and it almost worked.

  A kitchen sister arrived with a tray of bread and cheese for Agatha’s evening meal. Rose had no time to waste; she had to keep a close eye on Andrew until Grady arrived and could arrest him. She tossed a distracted kiss at Agatha’s cheek as she hurried from the room.

  The evening meal had already begun when Rose slid into her seat. A quick glance at the brethren assured her that Andrew was there, eating as if his soul were free of guilt. She had solved what now
appeared to be two murders, saved Gertrude’s reputation and conscience, and should be able to put a halt to the purging ceremony, yet Rose found she had little appetite. Luckily, the meal was light, and she managed a few bites before giving up. Josie tossed her a sympathetic glance, probably thinking she was upset about the public confessions to come.

  Wilhelm stood first, and the brethren followed him. Rose led the sisters through their own door, and the two lines emerged from the building into an early night. Thick, inky clouds had spread across the sky, obliterating the last sliver of blue and the first hints of sunset. A drop of rain hit Rose on the cheek. Saving solemnity for the worship service, the Believers scurried toward the two entrances to the Meetinghouse.

  Rose decided to let the service begin. Grady was still nowhere in sight, and it would be easiest to keep an eye on Andrew if everyone was together in one building. She frequently glanced over at him as she led her sisters to their benches. All the sisters were present except Agatha, who was too frail for such a vigorous ritual, and Charlotte, who was caring for the children in their dwelling house.

  Lightning burst across one of the large Meetinghouse windows, followed closely by explosive thunder that rattled the glass. Rose was glad to be safe inside, despite the circumstances.

  Wilhelm walked to the podium in the middle of the room and began a short homily about purging and confession, timing his comments perfectly with the increasing lightning and thunder. Rose paid no attention. Instead she kept her eyes trained on the brethren’s section, so she could keep Andrew in her sight at all times. So that he would not catch her staring at him, she let her gaze wander across the rows of brethren, counting silently.

  Someone was missing. She looked up and down the rows again. Willy wasn’t there, but she didn’t expect him to be. Nay, a brother was missing. She reached the group from the Medicinal Herb Shop and realized it was Thomas. Glancing quickly from side to side, Rose located Irene, so they had not run off together. And yea, Benjamin was still there, sitting next to Andrew. Would Thomas have sneaked away to avoid the ordeal of public confession? Wilhelm would be furious.

  The homily ended and a gloom settled over the room that had little to do with the blackness outside. Wilhelm sat down. There was to be no music; the occasion was too somber. The rain became a steady battering on the high roof of the Meetinghouse and pounded against the west windows, driven by a ferocious wind.

  Wilhelm bowed his head in silent prayer, and the brethren followed his lead. Rose understood that Wilhelm considered himself in charge of this service. He had not even consulted her about the form it should take. She bowed her head, and so did the sisters. For a full five minutes, the only sounds came from the storm, growing in velocity. Even Elsa made no attempt to converse out loud with the angels, which made Rose wonder if Wilhelm had planned the ritual with her instead of Rose. He might be hoping that this evening would be Rose’s last as eldress. Elsa, his fervent supporter, could then step in.

  Rose raised her gaze to see Wilhelm nod slightly at Andrew, who moved with obvious reluctance to the center of the room. He did not look at the sisters. Rose closed her eyes and prayed again—for strength, for hope, and especially for Grady to arrive. Until now, she had believed that she and Andrew were both innocent victims, facing punishment for crimes others had invented for their own purposes. Now she wasn’t sure of anything. It occurred to her that he might try to avoid retribution by admitting to their imaginary wrongdoings and placing the blame entirely on Rose.

  When she opened her eyes again, Andrew had dropped to his knees and raised his arms heavenward. He opened his mouth to speak. But his words disappeared in the whoosh of an opened door, followed by a slam. All eyes turned to the women’s entrance, where Charlotte leaned against the door, gasping. The light cotton of her drenched work dress clung immodestly to her body. She had tried to protect herself by wearing her heavy palm bonnet, but she must have tied it too hastily, because it had flown back and hung from her shoulders. Her thin white cap had become translucent and no longer hid her damp hair, darkened by rain. Rivulets dripped from her bangs down her flushed cheeks.

  Charlotte’s frantic eyes searched the rows of sisters until she found Rose. “Janey and Marjorie,” she said. “They are missing.”

  In an instant, Rose understood. Not Andrew. Thomas. When Hugo remembered the Nathan Sharp story, he wasn’t thinking about the fact that Nathan had been a trustee; he was simply pulling to mind a Believer who betrayed his own people by stealing from them. Hugo had once been a salesman, so he’d known what clues to look for. Thomas, who was such a good salesman, controlled the sales accounts so that Andrew and the others could concentrate on creating new cures. That was what Hugo had seen when he examined the journals from the Medicinal Herb Shop—evidence that Thomas was skimming the profits, hoping to leave with enough money to take his children with him. He had chosen to execute his plan now because he was afraid that, after being exposed in the group confessions, Irene and Benjamin would leave together and take Janey and Marjorie. He had to get to them first.

  Irene screamed and lunged toward the door. Two sisters grabbed and held her as she continued to struggle. “Let me go,” she begged. “You don’t understand. He’ll hurt them. He says he loves them, but he hurts them. I had to get them away from him. I had to keep them safe.”

  Wilhelm was either dazed or hoping to go on with the purging, because he neither moved nor spoke. Rose took charge.

  “Has anyone called the Sheriff’s Office?” she asked, as she reached Charlotte.

  Charlotte nodded. “I called Gennie over to stay with the children, and she phoned while I did one last search of the Children’s Dwelling House. She said Grady wasn’t back yet, and the one officer left said the winds have uprooted trees along the roads. The officer will try to get here, but he didn’t know how long it would take.”

  “Sisters, brethren,” she said, turning to face them. “We must find the children ourselves. Their father, Thomas, has taken them, and he is dangerous. It hasn’t been long; they can’t have gotten far, unless . . . Andrew, do you suppose Thomas might have taken the Plymouth?”

  Andrew’s mouth curved in something that, under less grave circumstances, might have been called a smile. “Certainly he could have, and probably did. But it won’t do him any good. The Plymouth has a flat tire. I discovered it just before the evening meal and didn’t have time to change it.”

  “He might still have tried to drive it off, though. Or managed to change the tire himself in the storm,” Rose said. “It would slow him down, though. We may have a chance. Sisters, start calling our neighbors, and—”

  “Our phone lines are down,” Charlotte said. “Gennie started to call around after talking to the Sheriff’s Office, but the phone went dead.”

  “Then we must do this ourselves, with God’s help,” Rose said. “I want groups of you to begin searching. No one should be alone, and at least one brother should be with each group. Spread out and search the whole village, starting with the buildings. They might have taken shelter until the storm passes. Leave on all the lamps as you go through the buildings. It will help light the village.” She directed groups in different directions. To her surprise, Wilhelm willingly joined several Believers heading for the Ministry House.

  When the last group had dashed into the storm, Rose removed her long Dorothy cloak from a peg and tied it around her neck. Thank goodness they had thought ahead and brought their outdoor garments with them. She snugly knotted her palm bonnet and reached for the door.

  “I was certain you would violate your own rule and set out on your own,” Andrew said from behind her.

  “Andrew, I thought you’d . . .”

  “You feel responsible for those children, and you will put yourself in danger to save them. I am going with you.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  RATHER THAN BE DELAYED ANY LONGER, ROSE AND ANDREW left by the same door, which the wind slammed shut behind them. The rain had turned to hail, which stung Ro
se’s cheeks and blanketed the grass, turning July to midwinter. Andrew led the way down the muddy central path to the Trustees’ House, where the Plymouth was kept parked. It was still there. One corner hung lower where the tire was flat. As Rose caught up, Andrew stooped down and picked something up. He held it out to Rose. A corncob doll, battered and drenched. Rose slid the doll behind the triangular kerchief that crisscrossed over her bodice. She prayed for the chance to return it to Marjorie.

  “What now?” Andrew asked.

  “Thomas was at the evening meal, and so were the girls. So it must have begun to rain just as they set out They might have gone back to one of the buildings for shelter, but I think it more likely that he took them into the woods to wait out the storm. They are less likely to be found there, and it would be easier to get away from the woods than from a building.”

  The nearest wooded areas were the holy hill and the grove of trees north of the old cemetery. They agreed to try the holy hill first. As they ran around behind the Trustees’ Office, lightning slithered directly over their heads, followed instantly by a boom, as if the sky had cracked loose and crashed to the earth. An unseen hand flipped a switch, and all the lights in the village went out at once.

  Rose and Andrew kept running, though now the Empyrean Mount appeared only as a dark mass against a dark sky. They relied on the frequent flashes of lightning to show them how close they were to the perimeter of the woods.