Annabel eyed them both warily and then shut her book.
Christian wanted to bang his fist against the walls of the Sisters House as he hurried away from the eyes of the women. Of his wife. He had failed Susanna terribly.
He didn’t know much about being a husband, but he knew he was supposed to comfort his wife with his love and concern. When he’d looked into her eyes this morning, though, reason seemed to escape him. He wanted to learn about her family, to learn all about her, but the pressure of forcing their conversation overwhelmed him. They had precious few minutes together and he’d botched it, not knowing what to say.
Upon his return to the manor, the laborer would pull him aside and ask about his time with his wife. Christian couldn’t lie to him, but he couldn’t tell him the truth either. He was a coward, perhaps, but he would tell the man that his silence was to protect his wife’s virtue. He was protecting himself from embarrassment as well—none of the other married men would spend their hour talking with their wives, nor would they leave the room long before their time was finished.
What must Susanna think of him?
He’d seen the hurt in her eyes when she asked why he’d requested her hand. Most of the messengers married so they would have a companion in their work, but Susanna had every right to question his motivations. After all, he had asked to marry another woman before her. The only reason he’d married Susanna was because it was required of him and, at the time, he thought he had been doing the right thing—getting married as the laborer suggested.
However, after the lot rejected his marriage to Catharine, he hadn’t given the elders any other input to this selection. In his mind, no other woman could compare. He relied on the advice of the laborer, like most of the men did, since he wasn’t matched with the woman he desired.
Like Catharine, he had been raised on a manor located outside London. His grandfather and father had been respected businessmen who served the god of money, and they were quite devout in the worship of what mastered them. Christian had grown up in the clutches of this wealth, but even as their fortune and affluence grew, no one in his household seemed to think it was enough. He had to make a choice with his life—to pursue God or pursue money—and he’d chosen to serve God.
He didn’t have blinders about Catharine like Elias did. He knew she had been pampered as a child and was a free spirit who didn’t do well with rules. But her independence and her confidence had intrigued him along with her beauty. He’d given his heart to her when he was twenty-three and hadn’t been able to break free of it.
Back in London, when he used to visit Catharine and her family, he had never felt nervous around her or her lifestyle. But this morning, in her simplicity and kindness, Susanna Fritsche had intimidated him.
Christian raced down the steps, and when he pushed it, the front door thudded against the stone. Heat accosted him as he stepped outside, and the sound of hammers pounding against wood rolled across the grassy plaza.
He stepped onto the grass, his mind on Susanna. He should have asked her more questions about her family and her education, as he’d done with the women he’d once danced with back in London. He should have asked Susanna why her parents joined the Unity of the Brethren and why she wanted to go on a mission.
But instead he’d sat on the bed like an idiot, unsure of what to say.
He wasn’t fit to be a husband, certainly not one to Susanna and probably not even to Catharine. He was driven and awkward and completely obsessed with this mission. Susanna was a devout woman, while he struggled every day with the sins of his flesh. She deserved a devout husband who had conquered the sin in his life…and a husband who adored her.
Chapter Nine
The sun climbed above the trees, sprinkling rays of pink and orange across the dewed grass. Susanna stood on the top step of the stairs that led to the Gemeinhaus, most of the community below her as they watched the five messengers hike toward the forest. Each of the men wore a pack on his back, and a mule accompanied them with their remaining supplies. Christian hiked behind Samuel, who had joined their small party as guide and interpreter.
In that moment, Susanna felt more lonely than she’d ever felt in her life. Her husband and her two dearest friends were leaving on this journey without her. Even though she’d wanted them to go, she couldn’t help feeling like they had all left her behind.
During the commissioning service, the elders had prayed for the messengers and then she had given Christian a cloth filled with gooseberries and slices of venison jerky. The travelers already had food in their packs, but still she had wanted to give him something else for his journey, something from her.
Before the travelers and their solitary pack mule disappeared into the forest, Christian turned back. She couldn’t search his eyes this time like she had on their wedding day, but as he tipped his hat toward the crowd, she pretended he was saying good-bye just to her.
She waved one last time, and then her husband was gone.
The voices around her trailed away as the brothers and sisters returned to work, but she remained on the top step, her eyes still on the forest.
At the commissioning service, the elders had read the Count’s familiar words to the messengers. “Remember, you must never use your position to lord it over the heathen. Instead you must humble yourself and earn their respect through your own quiet faith and the power of the Holy Spirit.
“The messenger must seek nothing for himself, no seat of honor or hope of fame. Like the cab horse in London, each of you must wear blinkers that blind you to every danger and to every snare and conceit. You must be content to suffer, to die, and to be forgotten.”
To suffer, to die, and to be forgotten.
The words echoed in her mind now, and in the stillness of the morning, she prayed for the group’s safety. No matter what happened, she knew she would never forget Christian, and she prayed that God would keep him from suffering as well.
A sister wandered up the steps, humming a lovely melody Susanna had never heard, and sat down beside her. Susanna knew this Indian girl from their dormitory, but she had never spoken with her. She was sixteen or seventeen years old, and while she wore a cap like the other sisters, her hair trailed down her back. The striking black color of her hair shone in the morning sunlight, and her eyes matched her hair as the light danced within them. Her face was as beautiful as her song.
Wrapped in the girl’s arms was a baby. Susanna held out her hand to the baby, and he grasped her finger.
The Indian girl stopped humming and pointed toward the trees. “Your man leaves you?”
Susanna’s gaze wandered back to the forest that had seemed to swallow Christian and the others. “He is going on a mission.”
“Why do you not join him?”
“I wasn’t chosen for this trip.”
The girl studied her face and then lifted Susanna’s free hand from her lap. She looked at both sides of her hand before placing it back on Susanna’s lap. “Are you sick?”
“I am recovering.”
The girl nodded. “I was very sick once, before I had my son. My husband brought me here to recover.”
“Did he come back?”
“Not yet, but he will come for us soon. He is a great chief with our nation and has many important things to do.”
The baby kicked, and Susanna gently squeezed one of his bare toes. “What is your child’s name?”
“Nathan,” she replied. “Among my people my name is Wingan, but here they call me Lily.”
“I’m Susanna.”
Lily’s eyes went back to the forest.
“Do you miss your village?” Susanna asked.
“I miss the dancing and the singing. We sing here in Nazareth too, but it is not as lively as the songs of our people.” She paused. “And I miss my husband.”
“One day I would like to go see your village.”
Lily smiled again. “Maybe one day I can take you.”
The baby squirmed in Lily’s lap.
“How old is he?”
“Eleven months,” Lily said as Nathan reached for her fingers and pulled one to his mouth. She laughed as she removed her finger from his grasp. “Almost old enough to go to the Nursery.”
Susanna’s heart saddened at the thought, but Lily didn’t stop smiling.
“Annabel said I could go visit him every Sunday if I like, and we will play and play.” She brushed her slender hand over his head and then tickled him. “You and I, we like to play, don’t we?”
The little boy giggled and laughed with his mother who was still a child. Lily said something to him in a language Susanna didn’t understand.
Susanna leaned toward her. “I want to speak the language of the Indians.”
“The Indians are made of many nations like the white man,” Lily replied. “We have many languages.”
“Which language do you speak?”
“The language of the Delaware.”
Susanna’s mind raced; that was the language that Christian wanted to speak as well. “That is what I would like to learn.”
The woman studied her intently before she spoke. “Gaja leu?”
Susanna tried to repeat the words. “What does that mean?”
Lily brushed her hands over the boy’s dark cropping of hair. “Do you really want to learn?”
“Very much.”
The girl’s eyes shone again. “I will not teach you how to speak our language.”
As Susanna’s shoulders fell, one of Lily’s hands lifted to the sky and floated down like her fingers were sprinkles of rain. Under the sleeve of her plain dress, Susanna heard the clinking of bracelets as Lily waved in the air. “I will not teach you how to speak the language. I will teach you how to sing it.”
Susanna watched Lily’s arms dance as she hummed.
“You do know how to sing, don’t you?” Lily asked.
“I love to sing.”
Lily smiled at her again and sang a few words. Susanna repeated her song and then spoke one of the words. “Kitschi.”
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“It means that if you are determined, all things are possible.”
Susanna shook her head. “Neither of us can do anything without our Savior.”
“You really think the Christ Child is concerned about us?”
“I know He is.”
Lily watched her closely as she asked the next question. “Then why did He keep you here while your husband went away?”
“I don’t know the reason,” Susanna said. “I may never know until the next life.”
The baby began to fuss, and Lily lifted him to her chest and gently began to bounce him. “Your people talk a lot about the next life.”
“We long for the life to come, to be with our Savior.”
The two women stood and walked down the five steps.
“How do you sing ‘With Christ all things are possible’?” Susanna asked.
Lily thought for a moment and then sang the words. When Susanna repeated the song, Lily’s baby clapped his hands. A small piece of Susanna’s loneliness began to subside as she laughed at his joy.
“I believe he likes to sing as much as you do,” Susanna said as they crossed the plaza and moved toward the Sisters House.
“He has been singing since the day he was born.”
“How do you know English so well?”
“My people trade with many British people. My father learned from them, and I learn from him.”
“Your father is a good teacher.”
Lily repeated Susanna’s words and then she sang them in the language of the Delaware. Susanna laughed and sang with her.
Before she went into the house, she looked back toward the trees and then up at the clouds tinted with indigo in the distance. The messengers would be walking for at least two days to reach their destination. She would pray for safe travels for their feet and peace for their minds.
When Lily began singing again, Susanna didn’t feel alone anymore.
The straps on Catharine’s backpack chafed on her shoulders, and her shoes sank farther into the dreadful mud with every step. They’d been walking for almost two days now, up and down the mountains and through the rain. Her wet bodice clung to her breasts and her little bag of coins chafed her skin. Mud coated her hem and swept across her light blue petticoat like waves on a canvas.
“Only an hour now,” Samuel called from the front of their group.
An hour?
She didn’t know if her blistered feet could hike another ten minutes.
When Elias had suggested they go to Gnadenhutten, he’d neglected to mention that they would be climbing over mountains taller than she’d ever seen in her life. The way was treacherous in the best of weather, but the rain had turned the mountainside into a giant mudslide. She clung to the rocks and roots to avoid taking a trip down the crevices and cliffs that dipped on both sides of her.
Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder cracked overhead. Pieces of rock crumbled under her feet, and she clung to the bramble and rocks with her hands.
In front of her, a felled log lay like a fallen soldier across their path, and Elias reached for her hand to help her over it. With a glance back down the hillside at the piles of rocks and trees below, she pulled up on Elias’s arm. Her stomach ached, but she wouldn’t stop. If he thought she was ill like Susanna, Elias would send her back for certain.
Greasy kettles and grimy floors paraded through her mind. The drudgery of her days in Nazareth was even worse than walking up and down these mountains. There her feet had longed to dance and her fingers longed for a needle and thread to stitch more than just her initials on a pillowcase. Her brain had felt as if it were becoming as stale as the bread she carried in her pack, about to crumble into a thousand pieces.
She didn’t want to go back to Nazareth, with or without Elias. She wanted to go back to Marienborn.
“Are you feeling all right?” Elias whispered.
“I will be much better when we arrive in the village.”
He squeezed her hand. “So will we all.”
In that moment, she realized her husband probably missed the comforts of Marienborn as much as she did. Elias was born to be an organizer. A decision maker. He’d been so excited about the challenge of building the grand Disciple’s House before his assignment was taken from him. And she wondered if he, too, had regrets about coming to the New World.
The pack mule peaked the mountain in front of them, and Elias helped her climb over the last boulders to the top. From the mountaintop, she could see the wide valley they had just crossed. Clouds hung low over the hills and trees carpeted the earth for miles and miles. Warm rain drizzled down her head and her skirt, and her clothes felt almost as heavy as her backpack.
Rebecca and Joseph huddled together on a log across from Christian and their Indian guide. She and Elias joined them, sitting on another wet log. Christian rubbed his hands together, and she saw the passion in his eyes. In spite of the miserable weather, this man was enjoying himself.
“The village is on the other side of this mountain.” Samuel looked at the lightning that flashed to the west of them. She’d seen lightning only on a rare occasion in London and never in Marienborn. “We shouldn’t linger here any longer.”
Christian glanced around their small group, but his eyes rested on her a moment longer than the others. At one time she would have felt some sort of pride at his loyalty, but she no longer wanted Christian’s admiration or his affections. Elias couldn’t find out what had transpired between her and Christian back in London. It would break all they had, his confidence in her. Christian must remain loyal to his wife, as she would to Elias.
“Is everyone ready to continue?” Christian asked, his eyes still on her.
She returned his question with a quick nod and then stood up. Lightning fired the sky to their west again, and the crash of thunder made her jump. If she were here, Susanna would enjoy this display of God’s might, b
ut Catharine longed for a dry place to rest for the night.
Elias reached for her hand again, and they trailed the rest of the group along a pathway that wound down toward another valley. Vines cascaded down the trees, and their gnarled tentacles looked eerie in the shadows.
Rain fell harder now, in heavy sheets that soaked Catharine’s clothes. A sharp wind rustled the leaves, tangled her wet skirt around her legs. It felt as if the storm were chasing them their last mile or so to Gnadenhutten.
What else did the dark clouds contain in this new world?
“Hurry!” Samuel called back to them.
He didn’t need to shout his command twice. She hitched up the weight of her skirt and rushed down the hillside with Elias.
“We’re almost there,” Elias said as he urged her forward.
Even though sunset was still hours away, the sky had turned black. Thunder cracked again and shook the ground under their feet. Catharine no longer cared about the mud or the rain or even the painful blisters rubbing against her shoes. She didn’t know what the powerful display of lights could do to her, but she was certain she didn’t want to find out.
As they rushed down into the valley, she saw a circle of log buildings above the tumbling rocks of the Lehigh River. The wind swirled her skirt around her legs again, and she tugged it away from her skin, trying not to trip over the material as they dashed toward the largest of the buildings.
Samuel opened the door, and when she rushed inside, Catharine stripped off her drenched cloak and flung it over a knob. Then she collapsed on a chair. Rain continued to pelt the windows, but it no longer seemed as threatening under the bark-slabbed roof.
Samuel greeted someone in a language she didn’t understand, and when she turned, she gasped at the sight of seven Indians lined up by a long table, watching them. She hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the room.
Samuel reached out his hand and embraced the first man with his arm. She watched the Indians for several moments, wondering what they would do, when one of them smiled.
“You are hungry after your travels?” he asked in English, looking at her.
Love Finds You in Nazareth, Pennsylvania Page 8