Hearts Aglow

by Tracie Peterson

  “Perhaps it’s your familiarity that makes them uncomfortable,” Mother suggested. “Still, you won’t always be a young, single woman. The woman part you can’t change.” Her tone was teasing as she continued. “But the young and single will pass away before you know it. Believe me. I’ve watched my youth flee before my eyes.”

  “Nonsense, Mother.You’re still quite young,” Deborah countered. “You’re young enough that you really should consider remarrying.”

  The crash of metal pots on the floor caused Deborah to jump. She turned to find her mother staring at her in stunned surprise. “What did you say?”

  Deborah put the knife and potato aside and went to pick up the pans. “You heard me. I said you should consider marrying again. It’s not good for you to be alone.”

  “Have you seen me be alone lately? I have people all around me,” her mother said, taking the pieces from Deborah.

  “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

  Her mother turned to put the pots away. “I thought we were talking about you and how God had forgotten you.”

  Deborah touched her mother’s shoulder. “I hope I haven’t upset you. I know you loved Father dearly, but you are still very young, compared to some widows. You’re not even forty-four.”

  “That’s decades past the age a man would want a woman for marriage,” her mother said with a nervous laugh. “Most men are looking for women to share a lifetime and start a family. I have my family in place, and who knows how long I’ll be on this earth.”

  “Mother, you have no way of knowing where God will lead.”

  “And you think you do?” Her mother turned to face her. Her cheeks were flushed.

  Deborah wasn’t used to seeing her mother like this. She seemed almost embarrassed. “Mother, has something happened? Something to do with this matter?”

  Mother’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if to give a quick retort, but then closed it and lowered her gaze. “I . . . well . . . I . . . ”

  Deborah took hold of her mother’s hands. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Well, it’s just that,” Mother said, lifting her head, “Rachel Perkins said something to me, and I have to admit I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep since.”

  “Come and tell me what she said.” Deborah pulled her toward the table. Mother sat and folded her hands together. She seemed so upset by the matter that Deborah wondered if she should just let it go. Still, her own curiosity was great. What could Mrs. Perkins have possibly said that would cause such a stir?

  Waiting for her mother to speak was difficult. Deborah wanted to urge her to explain but knew Mother would tell her when and if she decided to do so. Picking up the knife and potato once again, Deborah thought perhaps the normalcy of the action would ease some of the tension. She peeled quietly and waited.

  Finally, without warning, her mother blurted out the matter.

  “Rachel believes your uncle is in love with me.”

  Deborah’s head snapped up. She quickly forgot the potato.

  “Uncle Arjan?”

  Her mother nodded and fixed her gaze on Deborah’s face. “It never even occurred to me, but Rachel thinks he’s loved me for a very long time. Of course, he’s never said anything, if he does. And he’s certainly never acted untoward.”

  Deborah knew her uncle cared deeply about Mother’s well-being. He was always very attentive and considerate of her needs.

  Goodness, why hadn’t I considered that before? He’s never married, and he’s always remained close to Mother.

  Deborah smiled at the thought of her uncle and mother marrying. “I think it would be a grand idea for you two to be together.”

  Mother leaned forward. “Truly?”

  “Of course. You know Uncle Arjan better than anyone. He’s a good man, and he obviously loves you or he wouldn’t care for you so earnestly. Perhaps that love is more than merely a brother for his sister-in-law.”

  “I truly had never considered it,” her mother confessed. The words flowed more easily now. “When Rachel mentioned the possibility, I felt so strange. I tried to think back and remember if I’d ever done anything to stir his feelings. I certainly loved your father and never meant to give false hopes.”

  “Mother, no one could accuse you of being anything but faithful to Father. I’ve never seen two people who loved each other more. Even when you two would argue, I could always see that spark between you.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Deborah smiled. “What would you like to do?”

  Mother shook her head. “I’ve been praying about the matter ever since Rachel brought it up. But I’ve felt completely out of sorts and have avoided being alone with Arjan for even a moment. I’m sure he thinks he’s done something wrong.”

  “Well, I think you should simply ask him how he feels,” Deborah suggested. “I mean, what if his love is limited to just being your brother-in-law? You have a right to know, either way.”

  “I would feel so odd, asking him.”

  “Perhaps. But I think if you pray about it, God can surely give you a sign or arrange the situation so that you can learn the truth.”

  Her mother nodded and got to her feet. “I know He can, and maybe having Rachel say something was one of those ways. I just didn’t expect such a thing at my age.”

  Deborah put the peeled potato aside and picked up the next.

  “Well, I think you’re very deserving of love.” She smiled and began to hum a tune often sung at weddings.

  “Don’t go marrying me off just yet.” Her mother went back to the stack of pans and began organizing them. “I won’t have you acting all silly about this.”

  Thinking of her mother and uncle together as husband and wife very nearly made Deborah giggle. There was no other man in the world she trusted more than her uncle. Perhaps God would even use her to help bring the couple together.

  “Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “What?” her mother asked.

  Deborah shook her head. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking out loud.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “You ladies have a nice time together,” Pastor Shattuck bid as he headed for the front door of the parsonage. “I’m going to go visit the sick.”

  “We’ll see you later, Father. I’ll have a nice cake ready for your afternoon rest.”

  Pastor Shattuck smiled. “It’s good to have a woman in the house again. My ministry has suffered without your mother.”

  After he was gone, Deborah couldn’t help but question Mara. “I hope you won’t mind my curiosity or find my words bold, but it seems odd to me that your father mentions his ministry suffering without your mother. I have asked on numerous occasions for him to clarify various things in the Bible, but he always directs me back to the men in my family. If the men in my family were knowledgeable, I would have asked them in the first place.”

  Mara smiled and poured Deborah a cup of tea. “It doesn’t surprise me he should direct you in such a manner.”

  “So he doesn’t believe women should study the Scriptures?”

  Her new friend looked shocked. “Oh, it’s not that at all. Father definitely believes women should study God’s Word. He is of a heart that all people should.”

  “Then why wouldn’t he be willing to speak to me? All I wanted to do was better understand, and oftentimes it had to do with his sermons.”

  Mara put the pot on the table and took her seat. “I will share something with you, because I believe I can trust you. However, I ask that this go no further than this room.”

  Deborah couldn’t imagine what the young woman was about to say. Mara’s tone was quite serious, and Deborah’s imagination immediately conjured all sorts of thoughts. “I promise.”

  “Not long after my mother died, my father sent my brother and me to live with our grandmother. Father said it was because we needed a woman’s hand, but I know that we reminded him of Mother, and he could hardly bear his sorrow.


  “It was shortly after he sent us to live in New Orleans that a young widow in the church approached Father. Her family was quite wealthy. In fact, they pretty much owned the town. She told Father that she wanted to better understand God’s Word. She opened her Bible and pointed to passages that were especially difficult. Father explained them to the woman and encouraged her to come to him anytime she felt confused.”

  “That would have been nice,” Deborah said. She picked up the cup of tea. “He had no interest in doing the same for me.”

  “That’s because as time went by, this woman came to him more and more. Soon she wasn’t just coming to see him at the church; she was coming to the house. Then soon it wasn’t just in broad daylight, but she began making evening calls, as well. Then without warning, she tried to seduce my father. She threw herself shamelessly at him and begged him to make her his wife. Father refused and forbid her to ever again come alone to the house.”

  “That must have been a very difficult situation.”

  Mara looked beyond Deborah at the fireplace where a small flame flickered. “It was devastating. The woman, like Pharaoh’s wife with Joseph, told everyone she could that Father had taken indecent liberties. She had her family demand Father marry her.”

  “What did he do?” Deborah wondered how any woman could act in such a wonton, lying way. Why would she want to force a marriage that would surely leave her with a hateful husband?

  “Father took his place in the pulpit on Sunday and announced quite clearly that nothing had happened. He told the people how he had done nothing untoward – he had in fact only answered the woman’s questions about the Bible. He challenged them to seek the Lord to discern the truth of the matter. He further demanded that the woman stand before the church and God and tell the truth. She refused.”

  “What happened?”

  “The woman’s father came and offered Father a great deal of money to marry his daughter. He refused, of course, saying that his heart was still grieving for my mother and that he could not marry another. The man was furious. He felt his daughter’s reputation had been damaged.” Mara leaned toward Deborah. “Personally, we believe the man had endured such things from his daughter before this and merely wanted to make her someone else’s responsibility.”

  “But why would any woman want a man who didn’t love her?

  Wouldn’t a man, in fact, be more inclined to despise her for forcing such a situation upon him?” Deborah asked.

  “I cannot say. There are a great many women in this world who cannot bear to live without a man. For whatever reasons, she appeared to be one of those. Father eventually had to step down and give up the church and leave town. He felt it necessary to keep the church from dividing in two, but it broke his heart, nevertheless.”

  “So this is why he won’t spend time teaching women?”

  Mara smiled and nodded. “Exactly so. He truly wants women to learn all they can about God and the Bible, but he cannot risk his ministry for God to do so. He wants to be above reproach in all things.”

  Deborah considered this new information and felt a peace wash over her. She had a newfound respect for her pastor. He hadn’t been disinterested in her learning – only that they should not be alone for the teaching. “If I need to ask questions in the future, I’ll take someone with me.”

  “I’m sure that would be acceptable. Also if I’m around, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Mara sampled a cookie, then quickly put it down. “Father is also very worried about our town and the tensions that have risen up between the blacks and whites,” she said out of the blue. “That grieves him most sorely.”

  “As it does a great many folks,” Deborah countered.

  “I know that your family has been personally wounded. I am sorry for that,” Mara said. “Father hopes to continue to encourage the congregation to make changes – to recognize the wrong in harming each other.”

  “That will take a miracle.”

  Mara laughed. “Good thing God is in the miracle business, then, yes?”

  Deborah smiled, grateful for her new friend. Mara had a way of putting her at ease, even when her worries took front and center in Deborah’s mind.

  “So if I might change the subject, I wanted to ask you about your family. Father said your family had been in Texas for a long while – even before the war.”

  “Yes, my mother and father came here right after marrying. Mother was only sixteen years old. I believe it was in February of 1858. Father wanted to start a new life here, and his younger brother wanted to come, as well. ”

  “Your mother’s people held slaves; is that not true?” Mara asked.

  Deborah nodded. “Yes. Mother’s family ran a large farm in Georgia. Sissy was her companion back then. When Mr. Lincoln set the slaves free, Sissy wanted to come west and be with Mother. Mother agreed, and Father hired Sissy to be our housekeeper and cook. Eventually, Sissy fell in love and married, but she continued to work for us.”

  “My grandmother owned slaves,” Mara said rather thoughtfully. “For a long time she was convinced that it was her Christian duty to do so. She felt under her ownership she could guide them to a better spiritual walk. You must remember in New Orleans, there were a great many slaves who believed in superstitions and voodoo. It was quite frightening to see the effects of such beliefs. My grandmother was a strong woman of faith, however. She stood up to such things and, in doing so, taught me to make a stand, as well. She said that while she had no regrets in setting her slaves free, she had a great many fears for their well-being. Most couldn’t read or write, and the animosity toward them made remaining in the South quite difficult. Your mother makes such a strong stand for better treatment of the former slaves, yet her own people were slaveholders. Was there anything in particular that caused her to believe slavery was wrong?”

  “Mother once told me that she had never approved of slavery.

  She had seen too much cruelty. People often said, ‘Oh, but the black man wouldn’t even know how to dress himself without the white man to show him.’ Mother thought it all hogwash.”

  Mara nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Now she still hears people making comments in regard to how the Negro will not understand the voting process or how to arrange for his own legal needs, and it causes her great frustration.”

  “Father says that the War Between the States ended only to have the War of Racial Antagonism begin. He believes this is something that will continue for decades, maybe even longer.”

  “I hate to think he’s right, but I have little reason to doubt his judgment,” Deborah replied.

  “How is Sissy faring? Father said her injuries were terrible,”

  Mara inquired.

  “They were. She suffered a terrible head wound, but she is slowly improving. She’s gaining strength every day, and while her full recovery is still some weeks away, we have hope that she will continue to do well.” Deborah put aside her teacup. Mara offered her the plate of cookies, but Deborah shook her head. “Thank you, no. I shouldn’t take much more of your day. I have some books to return to Dr. Clayton.”

  “Oh, might I come with you?” Mara asked. “I have a pie for him. It’s cooling on the sill.”

  “Of course. That would be very nice,” Deborah replied, though she had hoped for some time alone with Christopher. Yet she knew such privacy was frowned upon. They had, in fact, caused many raised eyebrows at the Independence Day celebration when Dr.

  Clayton had taken hold of her arm at an unexpected moment. Such things were usually reserved for married couples.

  Mara got to her feet and collected the cups and saucers. Placing everything on the tea tray, she excused herself. “I shan’t be more than a minute.”

  Deborah took the opportunity to study the small sitting room. She had been here before with her mother, but now it bore a decidedly more feminine touch. She couldn’t help but smile at the doilies that now graced the back and arms of a rather large cushioned chair
. Mara’s influence had obviously taken hold.

  There were other things, as well. On the fireplace mantel there was a lovely vase of flowers, and framed photos of family members sat on either side of the arrangement. Beside these were small porcelain figurines of birds.

  Mara returned with her basket and hat in hand. She placed the basket on the chair she’d just vacated and secured her stylish bonnet. Her long black curls had been pinned carefully at the back of her head, and her bonnet was snug against the thick locks, leaving little ringlets to peek out at the bottom.

  “There, now I’m presentable,” Mara said, adding short crocheted gloves to her hands. She picked up the basket, and Deborah took the signal as one for them to depart.

  “I was just admiring your decorating ideas. You have given this home a much-needed feminine touch.” Deborah moved to the door. “Let me get that for you.” She maneuvered past Mara and reached for the handle. Before stepping through the door herself, she picked up the books she’d deposited on the foyer table.

  The two ladies made their way across the street, past the church, and around the corner to the doctor’s house. Deborah commented on a variety of things from the weather to the thick smoky air that reeked of coal and sawdust before they finally climbed the few steps to Dr. Clayton’s porch.

  Deborah didn’t bother to knock. She opened the waiting room door and called out. “Dr. Clayton, you have visitors.”

  No one was in the outer room, so perhaps Christopher had gone to make calls on the area people. Just then, however, she heard a child crying from beyond the inner office.

  “Ah, he must have a patient.” She smiled and motioned to Mara.

  “Might as well have a seat. This could take some time.”

  Euphanel was surprised when Sissy announced she wanted to get up and walk a spell. The woman would simply not take no for an answer, so Euphanel helped her friend into a robe and steadied Sissy as she got to her feet.