The Believer (The Shakers 2)

by Ann H. Gabhart

  "How did she die?" Ethan asked.

  "Trying to birth me a son. The doctor who came said the babe was turned wrong, that there was no way she could have ever birthed him. He tore him from her, but it was too late to save either of them. We buried them together."

  "I'm sorry;" Ethan said.

  "You are the first Believer to ever say that to me" Brother Issachar smiled faintly and looked away from Ethan toward the shoreline. "Others-the elders who knew my past-have always said it was God's way of pointing me toward my true purpose of life as a Believer. That the death of my wife and child was a sign to me, just as the deaths of Mother Ann's four babies were a sign to her of a greater mission for her life. I know not whether it was true for Mother Ann. The number of Believers seems to prove the truth of it for her. But I have never believed it true for me. My God is not such a God"

  Brother Issachar's eyes settled on Ethan once more. "He didn't take her from me for any such a purpose. She simply died as many women do in childbirth. But I do believe he led me to the Shakers, for he knew I couldn't bear my life in the world without her. The Believers accepted me even though I never became the sort of brother they hoped I would be. I've had a good life among the Shakers, but if my Eva had lived, I would not be at Harmony Hill:'

  "Your love for her sounds strong"

  "There is no earthly love stronger than that love between a man and a woman"

  I will never know that sort of love' Ethan was surprised to feel a wistful sadness at the words. He was a Believer. He had no need of the kind of sinful love those of the world sought. He only needed his love for his brethren and sisters and the Lord and Mother Ann. He had no reason to think of the one named Elizabeth, but she came to his mind unbidden.

  "Such love is forbidden to a Believer" Brother Issachar's look sharpened on Ethan as if he were reading his guilty thoughts. "But sometimes forbidden things seek us out and cause us much anguish:"

  Ethan pushed aside thoughts of Elizabeth. Didn't he have enough wrongs to worry about without letting his mind run after another? Besides, he knew nothing of how one came to fall into this love for a woman. It surely took more than the sight of a comely face or the touch of a hand. For a moment he considered asking Brother Issachar how such love came to be, but then he clamped down on his wonderings. Thinking on things that had no place in a Believer's life had already caused them much trouble.

  He confessed as much now to Brother Issachar. "Yea, just as I let my wrong curiosity about my worldly father lead me into sin. Sin that's causing you much anguish:"

  "Do not blame yourself, my brother. You weren't the one who thrust the knife into my side. We have a plentitude of sins of our own without shouldering those of others' Brother Issachar shifted in his chair a bit and was unable to bite back a groan.

  "Would you like me to mix some of the powders the doctor sent with us? It seemed to ease your pain last night." Ethan half rose out of his chair to go fetch the powders.

  "Nay. The pain isn't more than I can bear. We will save the powders for the darker hours" Brother Issachar waved him back down, then pointed toward the riverbank as he said, "I know that barn. We're halfway home. Pray that there will be no ice on the river ahead:"

  Two days after they received word of Brother Issachar's injury in New Orleans, the third fire was discovered during the time for rest and meditation following the evening meal. Again no alarm was sounded. It was a small fire much like a child might set. Or so Sister Ruth told Elizabeth the next morning after the rising bell sounded and Elizabeth was leaving the Gathering Family house to go work with Sister Lettie until the breakfast hour. Each Shaker sister or brother began his or her workday the same time as those sisters who had the duty of preparing the morning meal or the brethren who milked the cows. All worked equal hours.

  Elizabeth didn't mind. She'd always liked being up at first light to be witness to the sun's rising and to absorb the special peace of the early morning. It was not much different in the Shaker village. Even though she shared a room with nine other sisters, there was little talk among them as they readied themselves for the day. Needless chatter was discouraged by the Ministry. Conversation for merely social purposes was allowed only during the union meetings or by appointment with permission.

  So Elizabeth and the others who had come to live among the Shakers slept and dressed and ate in their own small circles of silence broken only by a nod or word of greeting and perhaps some bit of necessary information about the weather outside their window. They didn't speak of the trials they might be enduring, even though at times Elizabeth heard one or the other of them weeping in the night. Sometimes she thought to leave her bed to console the one who cried, but she knew not what words of comfort to offer or whether such words would be against the Shaker rules. So she stayed in her narrow bed and felt coldhearted as she offered up a silent prayer for a sister in distress.

  Elizabeth shed no tears of her own. She had wept for her mother. She had wept for her father. Tears hadn't brought them back to her. It was better to push beyond the tears. To find the best road forward. That was what she'd done. Even though she could not seem to bow her will completely to their way, she felt no regret for being under the Shakers' roof. Three times a day she sat at a table laden with food. She had warm clothes and a bed, albeit narrow and lacking in comfort. Best of all they shielded her from Colton Linley although they couldn't keep him from traveling down the road through their village at least once a week. Even in the snow he had come. Sister Melva said he'd spent the night of the snowstorm locked in the tramp room.

  When Elizabeth had asked what the tramp room was, Sister Melva explained. "We turn no one away who asks for a place to sleep and a meal. But we can't have unknown men wandering about our village in the night. We must of necessity take precautions to safeguard ourselves. So we lock any such in after the supper hour and unlock the door when we take them breakfast:'

  `And Colton Linley allowed that?" Elizabeth was astounded.

  "I did not see him, but I heard it was the one who led those men with evil intent into our house some weeks ago. The man who knew you from the world:' Sister Melva's eyebrows drew together in a slight frown as she went on. "He did not give the appearance of a ruffian like the men with him, but from the way you trembled at the sight of him, I'm guessing appearances can be deceiving. It was good he was locked in. He has no proper business here:"

  "I fear he seeks sight of me;' Elizabeth said.

  "Yea, so it seems. Men of the world are driven by wrong desires" Sister Melva gave her an assessing look. `And you do seem to attract the worldly sort of attention that we are to spurn as Believers. Sister Ruth says that's why Brother Ethan was sent to New Orleans with Brother Issachar. To keep him far from sight of you'

  "I have sought no contact with Brother Ethan' Elizabeth wanted to be sure Sister Melva knew that.

  "Yea, but sought or not, the two of you seem to have been thrown together in untoward situations that are better avoided. That's why we have separate doors and staircases for the brethren and sisters, you know. To keep away sinful temptations that might awaken within us if we don't stay in our proper places. And while we all have to labor to control our sinful worldly urges, that labor is oft the most difficult for our young brethren"

  Elizabeth's cheeks had burned as she lowered her eyes away from Sister Melva's face. She couldn't deny feeling those worldly urges for the young brother, but she had no desire to be a stumbling block in his path as a Believer. When he returned from New Orleans, she would take pains to avoid him as strenuously as she avoided allowing Colton Linley to catch sight of her in the village.

  The weather had broken and the days had an early feel of spring to the air. The snow vanished almost overnight, and so the steamboat carrying Ethan and the wounded Issachar was not expected to be delayed in its river journey to Louisville. Two brethren had been dispatched to Louisville with a wagon to await the men. It was said those of the Ministry who lived above the meeting room were praying without c
easing for Issachar, since prayer and deciding rules were their duties. And watching to be sure those rules were followed.

  Their many rules seemed tiresome and often foolish to Elizabeth, but nevertheless sometimes after the rising bell had rung and she was out on the walkways in the crisp air with morning falling gently over the Shaker village, Elizabeth thought it might be possible that she could do as the Shakers wanted. She could forget her worldly urges. She might lose the ache within her to one day hold her own baby in her arms. She could learn to be one with these odd people even if she couldn't quite accept every tenet of their belief.

  Sister Lettie had assured her only a few days before that the Shakers didn't require one to believe all spiritual things exactly as they did. While they didn't allow disharmony or words of rebellion, they did exercise much patience in allowing each novitiate plentiful time to make up his or her mind about walking the Shaker way. No one was forced to sign the Shakers' Covenant of Belief, and in truth, even if she did want to, she could not do so until after she turned twenty-one in April. However, their kind patience seemed to evaporate when one of their number did choose to go back to the world, and often they were sent on their way with words of condemnation that made Elizabeth cringe.

  She heard no such words from Sister Lettie's mouth. Sister Lettie had a kind heart for all, but she did mourn each time a sister or brother fell from the Shaker way. Sister Ruth was not so silent with her opinions of how the departed sisters or brothers were surely on a slippery slope to eternal punishment where they'd cry for relief from their misery but no help could be had. She almost seemed to gloat as she condemned each one. Elizabeth had no problem imagining her saying the same of her. Gladly, with self-satisfied pleasure.

  Elizabeth heard that gladness in Sister Ruth's voice when she called out to stop her on the pathway the morning after the small fire. Elizabeth looked longingly at the door of the medicine shop only a few steps away. Sister Ruth was no doubt chasing after her to berate her for some imagined wrong, but whatever it was could surely wait until after the morning meal. And hadn't Sister Ruth herself often told Elizabeth conversation was not allowed on the pathways? Elizabeth kept walking and pretended not to hear Sister Ruth calling to her.

  "Sister Elizabeth!" Sister Ruth's voice demanded an answer as she hastened her steps to catch up with Elizabeth. She grabbed hold of Elizabeth's arm.

  Elizabeth stopped and turned with a growing sense of dread. Sister Ruth would not be running after her for any small matter.

  Sister Ruth, not accustomed to rushing, had to catch her breath before she could speak. Her scowl could have bent nails. "You are not to ignore me, Sister. Ever"

  "Forgive me. I had my mind on my coming duties and didn't hear you:" Elizabeth felt little guilt for her lie. `And you have often warned me it's not proper to talk along the pathways to our daily work, so I didn't expect anyone to call to me'

  Sister Ruth's cheeks flushed red as she narrowed her eyes on Elizabeth, who gazed back at her innocently. She poked Elizabeth in the chest with her finger. "You may act humble with the other sisters, but you don't fool me for one little moment. You have no thought of living the Shaker way. You're only here to make trouble"

  Elizabeth stepped back away from Ruth's jabbing finger. "Nay, you are wrong. I have no desire to see trouble come to any among you.

  "Perhaps you don't, but there is devilment within you that you do not care to weed out of your thoughts. Devilment that grows wicked desires in your heart"

  Sister Ruth's words didn't bother Elizabeth. She'd heard them from her many times before and had given up trying to change the woman's opinion that trouble had befallen the Shakers because of her. Perhaps it was true. Elizabeth bowed her head. "I will beg forgiveness of the Lord as I strive to weed out wrong desires from my heart:"

  "Words are easy for you, are they not, Sister Elizabeth? As easy as striking fire is for your brother of the world"

  Elizabeth looked back up at Sister Ruth whose eyes were boring into her. "I know not of what you speak. If you talk of our Brother Payton, he's embracing the Shaker way and would certainly do nothing to harm the village. You have only to look at him during meeting to see that"

  "So it would seem. But there was another fire last night. A small one in the West Family men's bathhouse:" She paused to give her next words more impact. "Shortly after this brother you speak of had been there:"

  "I heard no alarm' Elizabeth's heart sank at word of another fire. It couldn't be Payton. It could not. For she had spoken nothing but the truth when she said he was following the Shaker path. "Was the building badly damaged?"

  "Nay. The fire was small. Easily extinguished. Almost as if a child had set it. But the brother of whom you speak is not much more than a child:'

  Elizabeth tried to hide her concern, but the gladness that filtered into Sister Ruth's eyes was proof that she wasn't completely successful. "What do you want of me, Sister Ruth? More words of sorrow? For me to fall prostrate here on the walkway at your feet?" Elizabeth didn't try to hide the anger that pushed up within her as she stared at Sister Ruth.

  "Such action might prove you were finally opening yourself to the spirit. Not that any of us expect that to ever happen:" Sister Ruth sniffed with disdain as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to touch to her nose. "But it isn't what I want that's important. It's what Mother Ann wants:"

  `And have you had a vision or message from her that tells you what that is? For I have not:' Elizabeth met the other woman's eyes without wavering.

  "Nay, and I daresay you will not. A Believer cannot have a strife-filled spirit as you do. Or as the white-haired demonpossessed child you brought with you:"

  Elizabeth softly blew out her breath and purposely uncurled her fists down at her sides as she stared at Sister Ruth. The woman was not worth her anger. "You're wrong," she said quietly, but firmly. "Hannah is a child like any other"

  "It isn't your place to tell me I err" Now anger flashed in Sister Ruth's eyes. "It's no problem to see the trouble you have brought our village. Trouble that followed poor Brother Issachar to New Orleans. Trouble that won't stop besetting our village until you're gone from us. You with your pretty ways full of vanity and the demon child and the one who has a love for fires. Those of the Ministry will see. They have eyes that watch and they won't be blind to your transgressions forever." Her voice got louder as she spoke, until one of the brethren walking some ways away looked toward them curiously.

  The door of the Medicine Shop opened behind Elizabeth. "Sister Elizabeth, I wondered where you were;' Sister Lettie said as she stepped out of the doorway. "You do know that such gossiping is not proper, my sisters:"

  "Yea, you are right, Sister Lettie. Forgive me. Sister Ruth was pointing out the error of some of my ways:" Elizabeth turned from Sister Ruth with relief and slid past Sister Lettie into the shop.

  "There are better times and places for confession, my sisters;" Sister Lettie pointed out.

  Elizabeth didn't glance back at Sister Ruth, but she had no problem imagining how the anger must be consuming her. Steam would surely be rising from her head as she said, "Yea, Sister Lettie. I will confess my error to Eldress Rosellen."

  "Very well, Sister Ruth;' Sister Lettie said. "The morning hour is passing. You do have a duty to attend the same as Sister Elizabeth, do you not?" Sister Lettie stepped back into the Medicine Shop and shut the door firmly behind her, ending any conversation. She looked at Elizabeth. "Are you all right, my sister?"

  "Yea, I'm fine:" Elizabeth put her hands under her apron to hide their trembling. She didn't know why Sister Ruth's words so upset her unless it was that she heard truth in them. "What work have you for me to do?"

  Sister Lettie studied her a moment before she pointed toward two bowls of ground roots. "We have powders to mix, an equal amount of each, and two even spoonfuls of that mixture into each packet. Your measurements need to be exact:"

  Elizabeth picked up the measuring spoon and dropped it with a clatter. She
picked it up again, but then spilled the powder as she tried to put it into the packet.

  "That is enough, I think:" Sister Lettie put her hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. "Come, child. It's time you shared your troubles." She pushed her down into the chair next to the table where she'd been preparing the medicine packets. "Tell me what has happened to make your hands tremble so?"

  Elizabeth didn't know what she should say. She didn't want to burden this kind sister with matters that couldn't be helped.

  Sister Lettie was patient. "Take your time. We have a while yet before the bell for the morning meal sounds. There's no hurry, but sometimes it's best to just let the words out instead of searching for the ones you feel are proper. I have a good sifter here:" She smiled and pointed at her head. "I'll be able to sort out the words that matter the most"

  Elizabeth sighed. "I have no desire to bring you trouble, Sister Lettie. To bring any of you trouble, but that's what Sister Ruth thinks I've done. That a wrong spirit dwells within me that's causing problems in your village'

  "A wrong spirit?" Sister Lettie took a chair down from the peg on the wall and sat down directly in front of Elizabeth. "And what problems does she speak of?"

  "Brother Issachar being injured. The fires. She says there was another last evening"

  "So I've been told, but it was inconsequential. Hardly a concern." Sister Lettie threw out her hand in a gesture of dismissal.

  "It's surely a concern that someone is setting fires, intending harm:" Elizabeth frowned. "The fires don't seem to be accidental:"

  "The Ministry thinks it is those of the world" Sister Lettie's light blue eyes probed Elizabeth's face. "Do you have reason to believe differently?"

  Again Elizabeth hesitated to speak as she looked down at her hands. Again Sister Lettie waited. Finally Elizabeth said, "Nay."

  Sister Lettie laid her hand softly on Elizabeth's arm. "I hear a thousand other words behind that nay. Tell me what worries you, Sister Elizabeth. It will be held in confidence:"