Love Finds You in Nazareth, Pennsylvania

by Melanie Dobson

  Catharine slid her needle through the linen one last time. In a few days, she would leave behind Annabel’s strict hand and the menial tasks she kept assigning Catharine, as if instilling Catharine with humility was the laboress’s sole responsibility.

  After she tied a red knot, Catharine tucked her stitching under her bed and, leaning back against her thin pillow, lost herself to favorite memories of London. Not too many years ago, Catharine had servants to do menial tasks for her so she could spend her days painting and entertaining and attending lovely parties across the city. She used to wear silk dresses and ride in carriages and attend the London balls. But when Christian convinced her parents to change their religion, she had no choice but to follow.

  She reached for the small bag she kept hidden around her waist. Her father had given most of their personal wealth to the Brethren when they joined the community, but before she left for the New World, he’d given her this bag full of gold coins in case she ever needed money to support herself. No one—not even Elias—would ever know about her treasure unless it was necessary. The coins reminded her of her years in London. And they reminded her that she wasn’t trapped in Nazareth like some of the women. If necessary, there was always a way for her to get out.

  She blew out the candle on her nightstand and untied the bag from under her shift, hiding it beneath her pillow like she did every night, but she didn’t close her eyes. Usually she tried to fall asleep before Agnes—the old woman two beds down from her—because Agnes snored so loud that it rocked the posts of the beds around her. But tonight she would wait to sleep until Susanna returned.

  Anyone would think that Susanna would be elated with the anticipation of her time with Christian tomorrow, but her friend had spent the evening sulking instead. God had blessed her with one of the most handsome brothers, but she acted as if she’d been cursed. Perhaps she was upset because Christian was leaving on this journey without her.

  Catharine shifted on her bed, trying to understand why the elders would send Christian to Gnadenhutten without his wife. And why Susanna would request that he go alone.

  Going on a mission was all Susanna had talked about since the Count announced they were sending a new congregation to the Colonies. God had created Susanna for an adventure exactly like this, just like He’d put a longing inside Catharine to make a home with her husband. She’d wanted to marry Elias, though she didn’t realize how challenging it would be to steal time away with him. Her parents traveled together often since they’d been married; they’d never been separated into the choirs.

  At least she and Elias could be together soon, even if they lived in a small Indian settlement. She would create a home for Elias and herself in Gnadenhutten, and they would thrive.

  She didn’t have to wait long in the darkness for her friend. Minutes later Susanna slipped by in her shift, looking more like a ghostly child than a grown woman, and slid quietly under her covers.

  “What took you so long?” Catharine whispered.

  “I was praying.”

  “Praying about what?”

  “That—” She scooted to the edge of the pillow, her voice low so none of the other women would hear. “That my husband would come to love me, like Elias loves you.”

  Even though Susanna whispered the words, they seemed to echo around the dormitory.

  “How did you make Elias love you?” she whispered.

  Catharine swallowed hard. “Elias loved me before we married.”

  “Christian doesn’t love me.” Susanna sighed. “He doesn’t even seem to like me.”

  Catharine looked out the window across from them. The candlelight from several sisters still danced across the panes. No man in London had captured Catharine’s attention until she met Christian Boehler. After he left for Saxony, she’d actually pined for him for a season, but she’d stopped pining a long time ago, around the time she met Elias Schmidt—a man more intriguing than any man she’d ever known. A man who ignored her until she carefully made her presence known to him.

  Back in Marienborn, she had dreaded the day the laboress came to her with Christian’s proposal. She had rehearsed exactly what she would say in response, but the laboress presented Elias’s name instead. And Catharine had accepted with pleasure.

  Nothing had happened between her and Christian in Marienborn. She’d caught Christian’s gaze upon her at times, but she had disregarded it—many of the brothers over the years had looked at her with longing in their eyes. She used to revel in their admiration for a moment and then put it behind her, but she no longer enjoyed Christian’s attentions, even if it was from afar.

  If Elias knew that Christian cared for her, and that she had once cared for him, it would destroy everything she was working so hard to build. Years from now, perhaps, when she and Elias had grown roots together as husband and wife, she might tell her husband the truth, but disclosing it in the infancy of a relationship could kill the first blossoms of their love.

  She cleared her throat. “Has Christian talked to you about your marriage?”

  “He doesn’t talk to me at all.”

  “Your husband loves you,” Catharine insisted even as she inwardly chided Christian for his foolishness. While she would never tell Susanna for fear that she’d become vain, her friend was plenty pretty. Even though the trip had weakened her body, Susanna was the strongest of all of them when it came to her faith. She didn’t waver in the face of danger, nor did the wilderness scare her like it did most of the women.

  Catharine never would have done what Susanna had done this morning, suggesting her husband go on a mission without her. Too many temptations accosted a lonely man. Susanna seemed to be more concerned about winning Christian’s love than losing what little they had.

  With her friend’s silence, Catharine repeated her words. “Christian loves you.”

  From the bed off to the left, Agnes shushed her. Instead of saying anything in response, Catharine made a noise that sounded more like a snort of a hog than a snore. Agnes pulled her blanket over her head and rolled over.

  “Why did you ask for Christian to go to Gnadenhutten without you?”

  There was a long pause before Susanna answered. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  But that isn’t true, Catharine thought as she clutched her fingers around the bag. They always had a choice.

  Chapter Eight

  At a quarter till nine, Annabel escorted Susanna out of the dormitory. A few of the women smiled and winked at Susanna as she passed between the beds. She nudged up her chin even as she wished that she could crawl someplace and hide. This was supposed to be her private hour with Christian, but there was nothing private about a procession. The sisters would be watching her, as well, when she returned, but she wouldn’t tell a soul about her moments alone with her husband.

  They climbed up the steps to the bedchamber on the third floor. A few doors from the bedchamber, a dozen women sat behind wheels spinning cloth for the residents and laborers in Nazareth. The door to the spinning room was open, but the door at the end of the hallway was not.

  Susanna shuddered at the sight of the closed door. And at the empty bench in the alcove outside the room.

  Her heart volleyed between relief and irritation at the sight of the empty bench. Every one of her sisters would find out if her husband missed their appointed time together. Even so, even in the face of the certain humiliation, part of her didn’t want him to show up.

  Annabel was silent beside her, but the many instructions spoken yesterday seemed to trail them down the hallway. Was she the only one who hadn’t been with her husband yet? How many of the newly married women, like Catharine, had gotten their first taste of marital relations on the Irene?

  And why hadn’t her husband come looking for her?

  She knew she wasn’t pretty, but her heart grayed at the thought that she repulsed Christian. Would her husband ever love her, desire her even, or was it too late for her to dream?

  “We’re a bit early,”
Annabel said when she saw the empty alcove.

  Susanna stepped toward a window as Annabel picked up the timepiece by the doorway. The white sand was piled up at the bottom. Annabel twisted the doorknob to the bedchamber, and when she found it locked, she knocked.

  “It’s been over an hour,” she called to whoever was in the room.

  Footsteps scurried across the floor, and seconds later, the door opened as one of the married sisters rushed outside. The woman blushed when she saw Susanna, though her face glowed with a smile.

  The woman hurried down the hallway, but her husband didn’t rush out of the room behind her. When he passed, Susanna didn’t dare look up at him. Their time as husband and wife might have been biblical, but she was still embarrassed at the knowledge of their togetherness on the other side of the wall.

  “Wait for him here,” Annabel said before she stepped in to prepare the room.

  Susanna looked outside the window. The sun was hidden behind rain clouds this morning, its rays trying to streak through the gray, but they couldn’t seem to break free.

  Why had God brought her here, married her to this man who didn’t care about her, if He wasn’t going to use the passions He’d placed in her heart? She felt as trapped as the sunlight this morning, not free to say or do as she pleased.

  Now she was expected to become one with a man she didn’t know.

  She’d been up most of the night, rehearsing what she wanted to say to Christian, but she could hardly remember any of the words now. She needed him to care for her before she could submit her body to him, but she didn’t know how to communicate that without making him angry. If he even had a temper.

  Footsteps pounded down the hallway toward her, and she caught her breath. Slowly she turned, her heart racing as she prepared herself for another disappointment.

  But she wasn’t disappointed this time. Christian Boehler had come to her.

  He took off his black hat, and his eyes locked on her like a hunter watching a bird or a deer, as if she might run away.

  She glanced out the window again and tried to blink back tears, but anger and relief and fear erupted in her at once, flowing down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her sleeve.

  When she looked at Christian, he was still studying her. Finally she was meeting her husband alone and she greeted him with tears. What must he think of her? A homely invalid who couldn’t control her crying. A woman who now belonged to him.

  Perhaps he could still change his mind and marry someone else.

  “The room is ready for you,” Annabel announced, and Susanna jumped at the woman’s voice.

  Her arms filled with sheets, the laboress bumped open the door for them with her hip. Christian waved Susanna before him.

  The door clanged when Annabel shut it, and the sound of Christian bolting the lock reverberated around them.

  They were alone.

  Instead of focusing on her husband, Susanna absorbed the details of the small chamber. Wooden blinds were drawn over a narrow window on the left side of the room, and on the far wall was a double bed with a quilt that matched the curtains. A plain stool stood beside the bed, and under the window was a stand with a washbasin and towel.

  As Christian hung his hat on a wooden peg, she eyed the freshly made bed, and her fingers twitched against her skirt. What exactly did Christian expect of her?

  Christian gave her a wary smile and then held out his hand. “My name is Christian. Christian Boehler.”

  The burden of their morning together lightened at his words, and she offered her hand to him.

  “I’m Susanna,” she replied as she shook his hand. “Susanna Fritsche…Boehler.”

  His smile grew. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Susanna.”

  He sat down on the bed and patted the mattress beside him, but she sat down on the stool next to bed instead. She didn’t care what Annabel said; she wasn’t ready to be with this man.

  He studied her for a moment, and she wished she had something witty to say, something at all to say to dissolve the tension.

  “Thank you for what you did at the Saal.”

  Her heart fluttered in spite of her attempt to calm herself. “This passion you have is from God.”

  “And my wife is from God too.”

  “I cannot stop you from your calling.”

  He studied her again, his eyes looking a darker brown in the dim light. “I do not want to leave you behind.”

  “You must go to the Indians even if you don’t have a companion.”

  There was more curiosity in his eyes this morning than regret. “I have to tell you, Sister Susanna, that I’m not exactly sure how to be a husband to you.”

  “I—I have no idea how to be a wife to you either.”

  He smiled again. “Then I suppose we have some common ground, don’t we?”

  She nodded as she fidgeted again with her hands in her lap, her mind wandering in the silence. What would it be like to feel the strength of Christian’s arms around her, far away from the pressure of this marital bed?

  He leaned forward, inches from her now, with his elbows on his knees, and he rubbed his hands together. “What is it that you would like to do in our hour together?”

  “I—I—” she stuttered again. She’d come prepared to tell him what she wouldn’t do, but she hadn’t expected him to ask her how she’d like to spend their time. “I suppose I would like to talk.”

  Relief filled his eyes as he patted the bed again. She started to shake her head, but he reached out and cradled her chin. The shock of his touch electrified her. “I believe you’d be more comfortable sitting on the straw for an hour than on that stool.”

  When she hesitated, he stood up. “I will sit on the stool.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I will join you.”

  Nodding, he sat back down and leaned against the wall, his legs sprawled the length of the bed. She moved to the other side of the bed, her petticoat rippling across the quilt.

  “What would you like to talk about?” he asked.

  “I—” She took a deep breath. “I would like to know why you chose me to be your wife.”

  “Chose you? But I didn’t—”

  His words faded away as he seemed to realize how callous his answer must sound to her. He floundered through his next words. “I mean, the laborer in Marienborn, he recommended that we marry.”

  She looked down at her lap, feeling foolish. That explained why he hadn’t sought her out, why he hadn’t spoken with her. He had never wanted her. “I thought you asked for me.”

  “I would have, I suppose, if I had known you.”

  “You agreed to marry me because you couldn’t come to the Colonies without a wife.”

  He seemed surprised that she would question him. “Didn’t you marry me to come to Nazareth?”

  “Of course,” she replied, too quickly. She couldn’t explain how she had admired him for months before they married, not when she was only a means to an end for him.

  “Where is your family?” he asked.

  “My parents traveled to the African coast on a mission a long time ago.”

  “You didn’t go with them?”

  “No. I was too young when they left.”

  “The missions are hardest on the children, aren’t they?”

  She nodded. “Did your parents go on a mission?”

  “I’m the only one in my family to join the Brethren.” He looked toward the window. “My mother died when I was eight, and I left the rest of my family when I was seventeen.”

  “My mother caught a fever and died not long after they arrived in Africa.”

  His eyes swept to her, and she wished she could take back the words she’d spoken. If he thought she might die of her illness like her mother, he and the elders might never let her go on a mission.

  She leaned forward a few inches, wanting to reassure him. “I’ve spent the last year preparing to go on a mission.”

  “If something happened to you—,” he st
arted, and her heart warmed at his words.

  “My life is in God’s hands.”

  He nodded. “What do you know of the Delaware?”

  “Only a little,” she said.

  His gaze drifted toward the curtains before it returned to her. “Have you studied their language?”

  “No, but I want to learn.” She eyed him. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

  “I am still trying to learn it myself,” he said. “But when I do, I will teach you.”

  An uncomfortable silence drifted between them. Even though they sat inches apart on the bed, it seemed like they were fathoms apart in spirit. Next to her husband, Susanna felt terribly alone.

  Christian stood and reached for her hand. As he helped her stand, she caught her breath. He studied her face again and she thought he might kiss her, but he released her hand and stepped away.

  “When will you return?” she asked.

  He paused. “Sometime in the spring.”

  “For Easter?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “This Easter is my birthday,” she said, though her words were so quiet that she thought for a moment he didn’t hear.

  “I will try to be home by Easter, then.” He hesitated. “I wish you could go with me.”

  She bowed her head. “Thank you.”

  “Next time perhaps we will go together.”

  He studied her for a moment longer and then he turned away from her. The door shook when he slid the bolt across, and he opened it wide for her. When she walked into the hallway, Annabel was reading a book on the bench.

  The laboress looked at them and then at the hourglass beside her. The top glass was partially filled with sand. “You still have at least a half hour left.”

  Susanna expected to feel anger or humiliation at their short visit, but when she looked over at her husband, she felt sympathy for him instead. Neither of them knew what to do in—or about—this marriage.

  “Yes,” Susanna whispered to her laboress. “But we are finished for today.”