by Lorin Grace
Lucy stared, wide-eyed, and her knees began to shake. Samuel came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, then rested his chin on her shoulder. “It is impossible for anyone to get stuck in the room even accidently.”
He pointed to the lower door. “From the outside, a child a few inches taller than Sarah can’t open or lock the door. Yet from the inside, a child, even smaller than Sarah, can open the door and get out.”
Lucy’s shaking slowed as Samuel rubbed her arms, keeping her tight against his chest. “How? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll show you, but I’ll need your help to lock me in.” He dropped his arms to her waist and gave her a squeeze.
“I could never… ”
“Trust me. You can’t lock me in. Sarah and I tested it. She gets out every time.”
“Sarah?” Lucy asked eyes wide. “You locked Sarah in there?”
Samuel loosened his grip around her waist and stepped in front of her. “Yes, Sarah was in there. It is not possible to lock her in. Please help me, and I will show you.”
Samuel leaned over and opened the top part of the door. Reaching through, he opened the bottom. He stepped into the tack room and closed the lower door. Lucy jumped a bit at the sound of the bolt closing. Samuel shut the top door. “Lucy, I need you to throw the latch.”
“I can’t.”
Samuel opened the top door. “Sure you can, sweetheart. I’ll be safe.” He stuck his arm out of the window and waved it. “I have light and air. If something goes amiss, I could climb out. Now bolt the top door, honey, and I will show you how Sarah gets out.”
Lucy took a reluctant step forward as Samuel closed the door again. Her hand shook as she reached for the bolt. She couldn’t bring herself to touch it.
“Trust me. I can’t be locked in. Just do it.” Samuel’s voice came through the door.
Lucy threw the bolt, locking the door faster than she would toss a snake out of the woodpile. She stepped back, her hand over her mouth, heart pounding. What have I done?
Lucy watched in awe as the lower door opened and Samuel crawled out on all fours, then stood and dusted himself off, a grin on his face. Lucy could see the patch of light through the open door.
“See?” He gestured to the door. “Impossible to get locked in.”
Lucy’s hand dropped from her mouth. She stepped forward and tentatively touched the still-closed upper latch. “What if someone places a barrel in front of the door?”
Samuel unlocked the top portion and opened it. “The lower door opens in. A barrel wouldn’t block it.”
“Is it really impossible to get locked in?”
Samuel’s smile grew. “And a young child can’t get in accidently either.”
Lucy examined the door. She closed the bottom door, then opened it.
“Why did you do this?
Samuel took Lucy by the shoulders. “Mr. Simms used to punish you by locking you in here, didn’t he?”
“How do you know?”
Samuel shrugged. “Good guessing mostly. I wanted to make this room into something different so you wouldn’t dream about it.”
“Oh.” Lucy studied Samuel’s face for a moment before rising on her toes and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
Before she could escape, Samuel placed his hands on her hips and closed the gap between them. He paused a moment, giving her a chance to back away. Then he gave her the kiss his eyes had promised her on the stairs. The kiss that said, “I am not leaving you.” Lucy rose up on her toes to deepen the kiss. Samuel’s hands slid to her back and pulled her closer.
When the kiss ended, Lucy rested her head on his chest. How can I tell him to leave now? I never want him to. I have not the strength. Please, God, I must know. Should I let him stay? Can this marriage become real?
Samuel stepped back and waited for Lucy to look him in the eye.
“I found something while I was doing this.” He kept one hand on her back as he turned them to face the tack room again. “I was going to destroy it, but I believe the honor belongs to you. I thought of burning it, chopping it up, and even taking it to the river and tossing it in.”
Lucy tilted her head, confused.
Samuel stepped into the tack room and took something down from the highest shelf. When he turned to Lucy, he held the riding crop in the palms of his hands. Lucy gasped and stepped back.
“Lucy, if you wish, I can take this and destroy it, or you can. Either way, it will never be used again.”
Lucy reached out, then snapped her hand back. “I can’t touch it.”
Samuel nodded in understanding. “Shall we burn it, chop it, or drown it?”
“Someone might find it if we threw it in the river. Can we burn it?”
Samuel nodded.
“But not in the fireplace.”
“We can burn it in the fire pit.”
Lucy followed Samuel out of the barn.
In no time a small fire burned brightly in the pit. Lucy thought it a shame to waste the firewood on the riding crop, but she did not have time to do the laundry today. It gave Lucy a moment of perverse glee to know that such a waste of firewood would have made Mr. Simms angry.
Samuel held out the crop in his open palm. “Would you like the honor?”
Lucy hesitated a second before she grabbed the crop out of his hand and cast it into the hungry flames. Together they watched as fiery red tongues licked at the wood and leather. Samuel wrapped his arm around Lucy and pulled her into his side.
She did not protest. She fit so perfectly there. He brushed a kiss across her brow and pulled her into a full embrace.
“He used to whip me with it. He told me I was a bad seed and it was his duty to drive the evil out of me.”
Samuel tightened his grip, drawing her as close as greatcoat and cloak would allow. “Sweetheart, I’ve known you your entire life. You don’t have a drop of wickedness in you. You never did.”
Lucy lifted her face, searching his eyes for any evidence of untruth or flattery. She found none. “Even when I threw rocks in your fishing hole?”
Samuel gave her that crooked grin of his, then reached up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “That was far from evil, and I deserved it for trying to ignore you.”
She leaned her head against his chest. “He called us terrible names. I didn’t understand them until much later. Now that I have seen the Bible, I understand why he did.”
Samuel waited a moment before he tilted her face so he could see her eyes. “Lucy, we don’t understand why he said those things. All we know is that in the family Bible, you were not given his surname. Your mother was the best woman I know, excluding my own ma. I refuse to think ill of you or her because of an entry in a Bible or the names a mean man called either of you. That doesn’t change the woman you are. The woman I love. The woman I married.”
“But—”
Samuel placed a finger on her lips. “Nothing changes who you are. I love you. I always have. Your name doesn’t change that.” He replaced the finger with his lips.
Lucy’s arms settled about his waist. When the kiss ended, she snuggled into his chest and watched the fire burn. Inside, her heart soared. He said he loves me. He changed the tack room. He burned the crop. He is holding me, and he knows everything.
“He was wrong, Mr. Simms was absolutely wrong. Papa Marden said someone would love me one day like he loved Mama.” She searched his eyes all blue with fire, “I should have never doubted.” Words failed her so she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Samuel’s. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in place. Lucy ended the kiss and returned to watching the fire.
She sighed. Samuel’s hand came up and smoothed her hair. The crop was disappearing in the flames. A loud pop accompanied the final destruction of the handle.
Samuel’s hand dropped to her back where the worst of the scars were. “Never, ever again,” he repeated his vow before kissing Lucy’s brow.
Lucy lifted her face. Samuel added kisses to her eyelids, the tip of her nose and then her lips. Lucy melted into him. One hand settled on his chest as if she was unsure to push him away or pull him closer. As Samuel deepened the kiss, her hand slid up behind his head and pulled him closer.
So this is what the Song of Solomon is about, this is love. No wonder they wanted to sing about it. I want to sing about it. I still think apple cider is better than wine.
Lucy found her answer.
Samuel broke the kiss. Lucy slid both hands to rest on his chest. Bringing his forehead to meet hers, he sighed.
“Lucy, please let me stay. Please be my wife.”
Lucy stood still for a long time. “We are not really married.”
“We could say our vows here, as my parents did in the snow bank.”
Lucy stepped back. Not far enough to break contact but, far enough. “No, I heard the rumors and the names all my life. I must find out what happened. Then we can repeat the vows in front of the Reverend using my real name. I can have no shadow over our marriage. Or us.”
“I think Ma knows. She would not tell me when I asked about her handwriting in the Bible. She said the story was for you to hear.”
“Oh, she did say she had something to say of Mr. Simms to me. Perhaps I can get her to tell me today.” Lucy brightened. The sooner she knew, the sooner they could get married for real.
“What if she doesn’t know? Will you still become my wife?”
Lucy stepped back into his embrace and placed a kiss on his lips. She pulled back far enough to whisper ‘yes,’ before kissing him again. When she broke the kiss, she buried her head in his shoulder amazed at her own forwardness.
Samuel leaned down. “So we are married and engaged to be married?” Samuel gave her a crooked smile potent enough that Lucy wanted to say they were married and risk being late to his parent’s place. But her resolve was not completely shaken.
“Just engaged. We won’t—” Lucy fluttered her hand, her color deepened.
“Consummate?”
“Not until we are really married.”
“Where shall I live in the mean time?”
Lucy shrugged. “Everyone thinks we are married now. I guess we can stay as we are with you upstairs.”
Samuel pulled her back into another kiss. When it ended, he added, “I think it would be best if you lock your door at night.”
Lucy blushed crimson and turned to the fire.
All that remained of the crop was three metal pins glowing red against the coals.
Lucy looked around the table. She lost a family and gained another family in just a month. The empty place inside was filling up like a water barrel in the rain.
Not all New Englanders celebrated birthdays. Papa Marden learned of making treats for birthdays from some of the Hessians he fought with during the war, a tradition he brought into his home. Each member had a favorite cake or treat made on their birthday that they were to cut and share with the family. Papa Marden often gave a practical gift such as a dress length of fabric or a book. The Wilson’s adopted the tradition years ago.
Emma had outdone herself. Daniel and Mark took turns turning the spit with its savory roast for much of the morning. Pea soup and fresh bread had been prepared in addition to the currant cake and little jumbles. No wonder she’d sent for Sarah so early.
The dinner lasted longer than normal as no one seemed in a rush to return to the work of the day.
The twins spoke of the hunting trip they were to take in three days and could not contain their excitement. The hunt would last a week—the first winter hunt for the twins. Each bragged about what his take would be and what they would bring home for Christmas dinner. Thomas Jr. would be joining them, as well as Carrie’s husband, Paul.
Lucy caught Samuel’s eye. “Going?” she mouthed. Samuel shook his head. Lucy frowned. She did not like the idea of him missing out because of her. They’d discuss it later.
Dinner wound down, and Emma brought the currant cake to Lucy, who sliced and served each piece, teasing her new brothers by offering them much smaller pieces than they requested.
“Mmmm.” Daniel licked his lips. “I’m glad you are my new sister. Now we get cake twice more each year!”
“Twice?” asked one of the twins his mouth full.
Daniel nodded and swallowed a rather large bite. “We get Lucy and Sarah!” Samuel reached over and playfully knocked his brother’s head.
“Just think, when Samuel and Lucy have babies, we get even more!” exclaimed Mark.
Lucy and Samuel both reddened at the loud guffaws of the twins. One of them hummed the chorus to “Poor, poor, Samuel.” Thomas cleared his throat. Emma followed suit by changing the subject.
“Lucy, dear, we know James got you some gift each year. I hope you don’t mind, but as your mother and father-in-law, we would like to give you something in James’s honor.”
Lucy found it difficult to swallow. Emma got up and brought a brown paper package over. Lucy untied the string to reveal two lengths of blue cloth, one floral print and the other solid. There was also a matching length of ribbon, and lace Lucy recognized as Emma’s handiwork. Tears filled Lucy’s eyes.
“Thank you, Emma and Thomas, and everyone.” She hugged the package to her. Samuel reached over, giving her knee a squeeze. She smiled at him.
“Would you look at that,” announced Thomas, gesturing to the window. “It is starting to snow. Son, better pack up your wife and Miss Sarah and head on home.”
“But the dishes—” Lucy started to protest.
Emma waved her concern away. “I have plenty of helpers.”
Joe spoke up. “They could stay.”
“No, they should go. It won’t hurt you a bit to do some dishes.”
Lucy glanced at Samuel. They would not get answers if they couldn’t get Emma alone.
Emma nudged her husband and gave him a pointed look.
Thomas said, “Samuel, can you come on Thursday? I have half a dozen orders needing to be finished before we leave on Friday.”
“Sure, Pa.”
“Lucy, why don’t you and Sarah come and we can have a baking day? Or I could come over there.”
Thomas chuckled. “Lucy, she’ll be inviting herself regularly now, just like she did with your ma. Claims your oven is the best around. She is always finding excuses to bake bread in it.”
Lucy smiled. A baking day would be a welcome change, and she would get to ask Emma about the writing in the Bible. “Come use it, then.”
“Thursday it is.”
Twenty-six
The new status of “married engagement,” as Samuel dubbed it, came with a new set of challenges. Not the least of which was keeping their not-really-married courting chaste. Sarah would pop up unexpectedly, putting an end to any little intimacies they indulged in. The fear of their little chaperone did a good job of keeping his kisses shorter than he would have liked, which was for the best.
Lucy urged him to go hunting with his father and brothers. Samuel explained he would have been staying home anyway to watch over the farm. He’d agreed to take care of his parents’ farm duties as well as theirs. Lucy still did not like him being left out but was relieved that at least she was not the cause. Waiting for answers would be easier if he was not always so near.
Each night she locked her door against the temptation to accept their marriage vows as they were. The fact that Samuel slept in Ben’s bedroom helped. Sarah would surely hear them if Lucy did make it up the stairs without them creaking. If Samuel heard her on the stairs, he would send her
back down. Of that she was reasonably certain.
She doubted the wisdom of Emma’s advice to read the Song of Solomon. She’d followed that advice Wednesday afternoon while Sarah had slept and Samuel worked out in the barn. There was much of the song she didn’t understand, but she wasn’t about to ask. What was spikenard, and why did it smell? Did she need some? Should she ask Emma? Other sections made her blush when she read them with Samuel in mind. She pictured Samuel’s teeth as sheep and laughed. Whoever had written the passage must have never stood downwind of sheep. Lucy decided Emma was trying to get her to see how beautiful married love could be. Or else how lovers acted like fools and spoke nonsense. She couldn’t wait to say her vows regardless of what her last name might be.
Best of all, she had not had a single nightmare. She’d even walked into the barn without shaking when Sarah insisted on proving again that the tack room had the “bestest door in the world.”
Thursday morning Emma arrived soon after Samuel left for the day. The two women began a double batch of bread, then Lucy started some laundry in the outdoor kettle. After a light dinner, Sarah went upstairs for a nap. Her protests lasted as long as it took for her to be tucked in with dolly.
“Why don’t we knit on your mother’s couch?” Emma picked up her knitting and headed for the bedroom. “We have much to discuss.”
They took their seats on either side of the couch and pretended to be interested in the socks they were knitting.
Then Emma took charge of the silence. “What did your mother tell you about your birth?
“Nothing, but I heard the rumors about my being natural born.” Lucy’s face heated. “Then there is the Bible. When I wrote their deaths in it, I noticed something else that doesn’t make sense.”
Lucy set her knitting aside and retrieved the Bible. Returning, she opened it to the pages recording the last four generations of Stickneys. She found her name and pointed to it.
“Samuel says this is your handwriting.”