Christmas at Harmony Hill

by Ann H. Gabhart

“So he did,” Sophrena agreed. “That does not make such problems any easier to bear. Perhaps you should lie down.”

  “I don’t want to lie down,” Heather said. “I just want it to be over.”

  Sophrena put aside her sewing and came to rub Heather’s back. “It will be soon. Brother Kenton says that babies are very insistent on coming when it is their time. Even the Christ child.”

  “My young brother wanted me to have a Christmas baby,” Heather said, smiling at the thought. Mary too must have felt burdened with the weight of her baby. And to think she’d had to ride a donkey all the day before the Christ was born. Then to end up in a stable.

  Here Heather was with a fine roof over her head. A fire to keep her warm. A concerned woman beside her. She had no right to complain. She put her hands on the small of her back and stretched a bit. But then Mary had Joseph with her. While they had shared none of the normal marital relations, Heather imagined that he had cared for Mary with great tenderness. How could he do otherwise after the Lord sent him a dream to reveal the miracle of love growing within his intended bride?

  Gideon would be treating her with the same kind of tenderness if he could be here with her. Perhaps a stable would be enough then.

  Wednesday night, the captain told Gideon and the rest of his company to be ready come morning. The battle plan had been prepared. The general would relay the orders to the officers and they would move against the Rebels at last.

  Gideon slept in his shoes with his hand on his gun. A man needed to be ready. If only he had a letter from Heather to carry in the pocket over his heart. And what of her? Had she gotten his letter of love? He counted up the days since she’d left. It should be almost her time. She could be going into battle herself. A different type of battle to be sure, but one that might be as treacherous.

  Gideon wished he was better at praying as he waited for the dawn and the battle to commence. He needed the Lord to watch over his Heather Lou.

  The first twinges of something different woke Heather in the early morning hours on Thursday. She lay still and stared up at the darkness. Perhaps it was nothing more than the heaviness of the baby pulling at her back. But she had to bite her lip to keep from groaning and waking Sophrena. No need disturbing her sleep. Not yet. First she would see if there was any rhythm to her pains.

  She had almost dozed off again when a new pain jerked her back awake. A similar pain. And suddenly she was afraid. She breathed in and out slowly. If it was time, then it was time. Her mother had never seemed afraid. Weary. Resigned to the pain to come, but not fearful. But then the births she’d witnessed were her mother’s fourth and fifth confinements. The first would have been different. The first would always be different. The unknown mixed with anticipation. Pain and joy combined.

  Another pain pushed through her. Nothing she couldn’t bear. Just something that prodded her into a keen awareness of her body. A signal.

  Had Mary the mother of Jesus felt such pains? Or had the Lord’s birth been as miraculous as his conception? The Bible said he was delivered of woman, so perhaps Mary had labored to give birth the same as any other mother bearing a child.

  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

  That was the first thing Mrs. Saunders had done after Heather’s father fetched her to help with the birth. Knelt next to the bed and gripped Heather’s mother’s hands as she spoke that psalm and prayed for a safe journey through that valley for mother and child.

  Heather whispered the psalm as she waited for the next pain.

  Gideon lined up with his company before dawn. The air was thick with fog. Not the best time to march out against the enemy, but the fog would lift. This way they could get close before the enemy knew they were coming.

  “A good thing,” the captain said before the signal came to march out of camp. “A blessing of the Lord on our battle plan. Soldiers, we can settle things here and now this very day. Send those Johnny Rebs scurrying back to their rabbit holes down south.”

  The captain’s words came through the fog clear and strong to Gideon’s ears, but he was too far back in the ranks to see more than shadowy shapes up where the captain was standing.

  Jake had pulled him back as they lined up. “No need being first,” he’d whispered. “Give somebody else a turn to be the hero.”

  Now they stood ready, their guns loaded, the attack planned. Their feet ready to march out wherever the officers pointed them. The captain went on. “So send up your prayers, boys, but step lightly with your mouths shut. No need letting them hear us coming. Leastways till we’re in firing range. Then we can wake them up right and proper.”

  They marched out through the thick fog, trusting the captain to know the right direction.

  “You praying, Jake?” Gideon whispered over toward the man beside him.

  “That I am, lad, for the both of us. And the Johnny Rebs too.”

  “The Rebs?” Gideon looked over at him. His face was gray and fuzzy with the blanket of fog between them.

  “That they’ll take one look at us and skedaddle south.” He kept his eyes forward and his words low so Gideon barely heard them right next to him.

  “Not likely.”

  Jake shot a grin over at Gideon. “Who says prayers have to ask for likely things? Our Lord is a powerful God able to do mighty and wondrous things.”

  “But those on the other side are probably praying too.”

  “True enough. We’ll just have to let the good Lord sort through and find the right answers for us all. Now quit talking and go to praying before the captain shoots us both.”

  Gideon turned his eyes back to the front and a prayer rose up inside him. Not for the coming battle. Watch over my Heather Lou. She’d been hovering in his thoughts since the first moment he’d opened his eyes that morning. And take me back to her, please, Lord, is my prayer.

  Behind him, one of the soldiers, Gideon didn’t know which one, began softly speaking the Twenty-Third Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd. The words drifted through the fog and settled over the company. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

  And they kept marching with the sure knowledge that some of them wouldn’t march back.

  21

  Sophrena sat up in bed. The rising bell wasn’t ringing. Nor was daylight creeping through the window, but something had pulled her from sleep. She looked toward Heather’s bed beside hers and held her own breath as she listened for the girl’s breathing.

  “I am awake,” the girl said and then let out a small gasp.

  “Is it time?” Sophrena pushed back her cover and swung her feet to the floor.

  “Perhaps,” Heather said with a hint of a tremor in her voice.

  “It’s still two weeks until Christmas.” Sophrena moved across the short space between the beds. “You said Christmas.”

  “Babies can come early.”

  “Yea, yea. Of course you are right.” Sophrena’s heart began beating faster. Heather was having the baby, not her, but even so, her throat felt tight and her hands trembled as she touched the girl’s face. “I will get dressed and fetch Brother Kenton.”

  Heather caught her hand before she could turn away. “No, not yet. The pains are only at the beginning, hardly to be noticed. And while I think they might be the ones to push my baby out into the world, it could be they will fade and amount to nothing. That happened with my mother when she carried little Jimmy. I would not want to disturb Brother Kenton’s sleep without reason.”

  “He said to fetch him at the first signs,” Sophrena said, her feet poised to hurry into her shoes and out to the Centre House.

  “Not yet,” Heather insisted. “Trust me, Aunt Sophrena. It will be better to wait for daylight with just you and me.”

  Sophrena noted her saying “aunt” instead of “sister.” She often made that mistake and each time it touched something in Sophrena’s heart. She was to have shaken free of her worldly kin, and for years s
he had. But now the sound of Heather calling her “aunt” warmed her heart. Perhaps Eldress Lilith was right. Perhaps Heather was pulling her back into worldly ways. She could not deny that she was eager to see the baby Heather carried.

  Heather must have noted her hesitation. “You can talk to me and help keep my mind off the pains to come. When the sun is up, you can get the doctor, but now I fear being alone in the dark.” She clung to Sophrena’s hand.

  “If that is what you want.” Sophrena held her hand tightly for a moment and then eased free of Heather’s grasp. “But let me light a lamp and get dressed so I can build up the fires. If a baby is coming, we need the room to be warm, do we not?”

  “We do. And put some water on to boil.”

  “For washing or tea?” Sophrena asked.

  “I don’t know. Both perhaps.” A smile sounded in Heather’s voice. “That’s just what dear Mrs. Saunders always told my father to do when my mother was in labor.”

  “So you were with your mother.” That was good. At least one of them would know what to expect.

  “I was with the last two. Lucas was fast, slipped out into the world with ease. But not little Jimmy. I feared Mother would die then. He was turned wrong and it took much struggle for him to be born. If not for Mrs. Saunders there with us, I doubt he would have ever drawn breath. She knew what to do.”

  “We will pray yours will be as your brother Lucas.” Sophrena kept her voice even and calm, but Heather’s words made her stomach tighten.

  Oh dear heavenly Father, she would have no idea what to do. But then the Lord put a calming hand on her. Brother Kenton would know what to do. He had attended births while he was doctoring those of the world. His smile and confident words would be as welcome as the sun come morning.

  She stirred awake the coals banked in the fireplace in the bedroom and then lit the lamp. After she pulled on her dress, she smoothed the covers on her bed through long habit. Heather’s eyes followed her every movement.

  “I’ll only be a few moments,” she told the girl before she went to build up the fire in the front room and fill the fireplace kettle with water.

  Back in the bedroom, she helped Heather up to the invalid potty chair. Sophrena had brought it down from the infirmary after the ice storm. To be ready, she told Heather, in case of more bad weather. She had tried to think of everything. Extra wood in the box. A bucket filled with water. Some biscuits and jam in case the girl got hungry in the night. She could handle those sorts of preparations. What she did not know how to handle were the grimaces of pain that stiffened Heather’s body when she helped her stand.

  “I didn’t think my back would hurt so much,” Heather murmured as she leaned heavily on Sophrena. “Maybe it will help if I’m on my feet a few minutes.”

  But she was eager enough to be back in the bed. Sophrena straightened the covers over her and adjusted her pillow. Then she looked around for more to do, but there was nothing except to wait and watch for the pains to cross the girl’s face. She did look so young in the flickering light from the lamp and the fire, not much more than a child herself.

  “Sit beside me, Aunt Sophrena.” Heather reached a hand toward her. “Talk to me.”

  Sophrena pulled a straight chair up beside Heather’s bed. “What do you want to talk about?” She smoothed down her apron. Her lap felt empty. She thought of the basket of sewing in the other room, but she didn’t move to fetch it.

  “I don’t know. Anything.”

  “How about names? Have you thought of what you will call your baby?” Sophrena folded her hands in her lap. “What a blessed gift to be able to give a child a name.”

  “Mary didn’t get to pick a name.”

  “Mary?” Sophrena asked.

  “The mother of Jesus.” Heather looked toward the ceiling. “The name was given to her.”

  “Yea, by an angel.”

  “I’ve been thinking about her so much. About how she had to make the journey to Bethlehem and found no place to stay except a stable.”

  “Yea, but the Lord provided.”

  “He provided for me too.” Heather put her hands on her stomach and shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she reached for Sophrena’s hand. “When my father turned me away, the Lord led me here. Where you are. My angel.”

  “Nay, I cannot compare to an angel,” Sophrena said.

  “You said you people here want to make your village a heaven on earth. Heaven has angels.” Heather smiled. “You could help me find a name for my child. Once we see the baby. Then we will better know a name. Perhaps then a name will whisper down to us from my mother.”

  “That would be good,” Sophrena said.

  “Did you never want your own child, Aunt Sophrena?”

  “I have loved many young sisters while I have been among the Believers. But my marriage in the world was not a happy one. It’s good no child resulted from that union forced on me and on Jerome as well by my father. It was an ill fit for the both of us and a blessing to come among the Shakers and shake free of the sin of it.”

  “Fathers. They can be so difficult to love.” A tear eased out of Heather’s eye and down her cheek. “Will this babe someday think that of his own father? My sweet Gideon?”

  “Perhaps not.” Sophrena knew no other answer, for who but the Lord could look that far into the future. “Your Gideon may be different. I can see your love for him is strong.”

  “Mother loved my father just as much and yet he closed the door on me, his child.” Heather sighed and brushed at the tears in her eyes. “Did your father close the door on you?”

  “My father never seemed to know happiness. My mother suffered from melancholy and he had no patience with her dark moods. He loved his sons, but I was just another female with little use to him. When no boys were attracted to me at the proper time and it appeared I might end up an old maid on his hands forever, he found Jerome. Poor Jerome. He so desired to hold a place of honor in the church, and he thought he needed to be married in order to do so. The Bible speaks of deacons being husband to one wife.”

  “So he did shove you out of his house and close the door.”

  “I suppose you could see it that way.”

  Heather looked back toward the ceiling. Her body tensed for a moment and then she blew out a breath.

  “It’s almost daylight. Should I go get Brother Kenton now?” Sophrena half rose up out of the chair.

  “Not yet.” Heather waved her back into the chair. “I will be laboring much of the day, but now I can still talk.” She turned her head on the pillow to look straight at Sophrena. “Did you ever see your father again?”

  “Nay, I did not. I found a new family here at Harmony Hill.” Her words were easy. She had never doubted that choice in those years. Never until this year with her father long dead.

  “And so you never forgave him?” Heather looked back up toward the ceiling.

  “I shook myself free from him.”

  “But did you forgive him?” Heather didn’t wait for her to answer but went on. “Not caring would not be the same as forgiving, would it?”

  “Nay, it would not.” Sophrena stared down at her hands and looked inward. A place of bitterness remained there in her heart. Something that shamed her now in the face of this young woman’s words.

  “This Sacrifice Day the man spoke about at your meeting, when is it?”

  “Today is the fifteenth of December. The visitors from the New Lebanon village will come the day before Christmas to lead us in our day of atonement.”

  “Is that the same as forgiveness?”

  “Forgiveness with purpose. One must find a way to make amends for wrongs done, to ask forgiveness from those wronged.”

  “But what if you are the one wronged?”

  “You can’t make another feel sorrow for such wrongs, but perhaps we, you and I, can seek forgiveness from the Lord for harboring that injury and forgive our fathers for the wrongs they did to us.”

  “To do as your S
haker leader said, I’d have to tell my father I forgave him. And then I would have to clear my mind and heart of any memory of the wrong and let it be gone forever.”

  “That is Sacrifice Day,” Sophrena said.

  Heather held her hands over her baby again and this time groaned as the pain swept over her.

  “The pains are stronger.” Sophrena looked toward the window. “The rising bell will ring soon. Let me go get Brother Kenton.”

  “Not yet.” Heather breathed in and out slowly. “First let us have our own Sacrifice Day now, this minute. Mother begged me to forgive my father, knowing that his heart would be hard against me even before I made my way home. I do not want to walk into this valley of the shadow of death with this burden on me. Help me to do as your Shaker brother said.”

  “We can pray.” Sophrena slipped out of the chair onto her knees beside the bed.

  “Should I get up to kneel beside you?” Heather tried to get up, but the movement brought a new gasp of pain.

  Sophrena pushed her back down. “Nay, the Lord hears our prayers in any position.”

  “Would you pray the words aloud for me? For both of us? I know you usually pray in silence, but I need the words in my ears today.”

  “Yea, I will try, though it has been many years since I have spoken a prayer aloud.”

  “The words are the same unspoken or spoken.”

  “Yea.” Sophrena reached over and took Heather’s hands in hers. Then she bent her head and was silent for a long moment. At last she began. “Dear Father in heaven, cleanse our hearts of unforgiving thoughts. Let us forgive as you forgive.” She paused again searching for the best words, but there were no best words. Only sincere ones. “I forgive my father for his cold heart toward me. And this child, Heather, she forgives her father for the same.”

  Heather spoke then. “I forgive my father for closing the door and his heart on me. I will remember his love and forget his anger. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Sophrena echoed her words. She stayed on her knees another long moment, silently asking forgiveness for other sins of the spirit and begging for love and mercy on this mother and her child soon to come into the world.