Reforming Elizabeth

by Lorin Grace

  Perhaps Mina had the right idea. Worship God, but leave the different denominations out of it as the perfect church did not exist.

  Gideon suppressed a sigh as the sermon wound down. He needed to make a decision about his future soon. Another letter from the seminary had arrived. He doubted he would be excommunicated for not apologizing to Butler, but he also doubted he would have the reverend’s support. And a bad review would end his career as well. Gideon rather it be his choice.

  Eighteen

  Gideon set Mina down in the rocking chair, and Elizabeth propped her feet up. Mina winced more than necessary to keep up her pretense.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “No, you won’t. It is Wednesday, and you’ll be going down Brockton way. Don’t worry about me so much.” Mina patted his cheek and turned her attention to her niece.

  Gideon left the house through the kitchen.

  Could the girl learn to use the loom without her standing behind? “Remember what I told you last week. It is like a dance.”

  Elizabeth sat on the stool.

  “Pull your skirt up a bit.” Mina bit her lip so as to not laugh at Elizabeth’s shocked look. “Not that high. Now you can see the treadles easier.”

  Elizabeth took the shuttle in her left hand and studied the loom, then looked to Mina for instruction.

  “Set it in the race. Now, which treadle do you start with?”

  “The fourth.” Elizabeth depressed the treadle and pulled the picking stick.

  Zip. Clunk. The shuttle flew across the race.

  Mina gave a little grin as Elizabeth jumped. “And now?”

  “Batten.” Elizabeth pulled the combed bar forward. “Then three.” Elizabeth pressed the foot treadle and sent the shuttle flying through the warp threads. She looked up for confirmation as she pulled the batten forward again.

  “I think you have it. Now think of it as a dance. Keep your right foot on the fourth and your left on the third treadle. And right, flick, pull, left, flick, pull. Dance, da, da, dance, da, da.

  Elizabeth increased the speed with each zip of the shuttle.

  Mina put her hand up, and Elizabeth stopped. “Very good. Now use a threaded shuttle.”

  Elizabeth pulled the empty shuttle out of the race and sputtered, “All the work I did was for naught?”

  Mina smiled. “Better than having to fix a weaver’s error. And you will always need to check your shuttle.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the shuttle.

  “An empty shuttle is like an empty soul. You can race around all day, but if you are empty inside at the start, you are empty still at the end.”

  Elizabeth raised a brow at her aunt’s comment.

  “Think on it. I get some of my best thinking done on the loom. It is too noisy to have a good conversation. Now back to it while I darn these stockings. Gideon will need them soon.”

  Gideon returned several hours later and entered the back door. He doubted they would hear him over the thunk, thump, zip of the loom if he knocked. He caught sight of Elizabeth at the loom first and paused to watch for a moment. A shadow hid the fading bruise. In the past two weeks, she’d matured more than she had in the first two months of her “retrenchment.” If he had not known of her flirtatious past, he would assume she was as prim and proper as Joanna. More so, even. He grew weary of Joanna’s little traps.

  Gideon put the thought aside. He needed to deal with Joanna kindly and soon. He was not interested in finding a new wife yet. Perhaps his brother would have ideas regarding Joanna’s pursuit when he met him in Boston tomorrow. If not for Mina’s insistence, he would have canceled the trip. But she’d firmly announced that the Purdy boys would do the barn chores Thursday night and Friday morning while Elizabeth supervised. In exchange for his going, he extracted a promise from Mina to stay in her room—one he fully expected to be broken.

  Elizabeth hummed a tune Gideon could not place as she continued to work. Thunk, thump, zip, thunk, thump, zip. How content she appeared. He took a step farther into the room.

  Mina’s chair sat empty.

  Thunk, thump, zip, then silence.

  Gideon looked up and met Elizabeth’s wide-eyed gaze for a second before she disappeared behind the loom with a tiny yelp and a crash.

  He hurried around the loom and found Elizabeth already setting the stool back in place. She smoothed her skirts and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The fall hadn’t dislodged her hair. She’d taken to securing it better. How could he feel disappointed when he’d lectured her on the impropriety? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Elizabeth didn’t meet his eyes. She rarely had since that Sunday. “No, it was my fault.”

  “Where is Mina?”

  “She wanted to lie down, so I helped her to her room. Don’t worry. I was very careful, and she didn’t step on her foot.” Elizabeth’s words poured out of her in a rush. She tried to scoot around him, practically plastering herself to the wall.

  Gideon let her pass before turning and following her from the room.

  Elizabeth cracked open her aunt’s door and peeked inside, then stepped back, closed it, and continued to the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Not now. I had food foisted upon me at three of my stops.”

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, I came in to check on Mina. But I won’t bother her if she is sleeping.”

  Elizabeth bobbed her head. “Then I shall return to the loom.”

  Gideon watched her retreating form and shook his head. Perhaps Jordan would be a better conversationalist, he mused as he headed to the barn.

  When she heard the kitchen door shut, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief, then settled back into her loom dance, letting the shuttle fly through the warp threads.

  The daydreams her mind had wandered through prior to Gideon’s interruption flooded back. Afraid he would see that he was the focus of those dreams, she’d dared not look at him. So gallant—more than gallant. The words she searched for failed to come to mind. Where her father would have continued to berate her every chance he got, Gideon had only allowed the subject of the red dress to become a part of the conversation once, on the morning after Mina’s fall.

  “Will you please post this for me?” She handed him two coins, unsure how much the thick missive would cost.

  Gideon slipped the letter into his coat pocket but left the money.

  “I’m sorry—”

  Gideon held up his hand. “You don’t need to apologize again. I was hard on you yesterday. Harder than I should have been. It is I who needs to ask your forgiveness.”

  “No, I—”

  He stopped her again by lightly touching her shoulder. “We are agreed, we are both done apologizing and are both forgiven. There is no need to revisit that which is done. It will not change what happened.”

  Elizabeth was not sure if his words or his touch affected her more. The words comforted, but his touch made her heart beat a funny dance which started a longing for something beyond flirtation, that now and forever might be beyond her reach.

  Thunk, thump, zip. Thunk, thump, zip.

  No point in imagining Gideon in her future. Father had yet to reply to her letter. One advantage of the loom was that it drowned out the sound of passing carriages. The first week after she’d sent the letter, the sound of every carriage rumbling by the house caused her heart to race. Now she only held her breath if they slowed. Why hadn’t Father reacted? She’d posted another letter yesterday but only mentioned Aunt Mina’s improving health, glossing over the reverend’s visit.

  Last Wednesday, Reverend Porter had come to share in its entirety the sermon she’d missed. Elizabeth suspected he’d added a few more admonishments for her sake. Even a
couple were directed at Aunt Mina. Only the firm expression on her aunt’s face kept her from interrupting to defend Mina. Pompous man! Nothing like Reverend Woods. Aunt Mina had suggested the details of the conversation not be repeated in her letter home.

  Thunk, thump, zip. Thunk, thump, zap. Tap.

  The hollow sound caught Elizabeth’s attention. The shuttle was empty, and the shadows in the room had lengthened.

  Time to stop daydreaming and prepare supper.

  Gideon mucked the last stall. He’d spent most of the time rehashing his conversation with Widow Snow over her pickled beets. Mina had been right to caution him against the widow’s cooking. It was worse than Elizabeth’s. That was unfair to Elizabeth, though, as her cooking skills improved each week. It was rare that she burned something these days. She’d even ventured to try some of the recipes in Mina’s battered cookbook with success. He longed for seconds of her dried-apple pie.

  Why did his mind keep wandering back to her? Of course Elizabeth had been the subject of the widow’s diatribe. Gideon recalled the scene with a certain amount of satisfaction.

  Widow Snow thumped her Bible onto the table next to the humongous bowl of beets. “Now you show me where in the Bible a man isn’t held accountable for his own actions. You can’t. It isn’t there. Yet Reverend Porter carries on about how women must be virtuous. We all know he is talking about Miss Elizabeth. But there is not one word about men controlling their passions.

  “No, Mr. Butler makes a big contribution to the church and he doesn’t get a lecture at all. Yet everyone knows better than to let him near their daughters. He’s ruined more than one girl. Poor Missy Meg. She never did say, but her son is the spitting image of Mr. Butler. And his mother went through more unsuitable housemaids than any other woman on the South Shore. He’s been taking what he wants from them since before he learned to shave.”

  The widow hadn’t let him get in a word edgewise, but he agreed. Elizabeth’s dress did not justify Mr. Butler’s actions in the least. How could he remain silent on the matter? He’d shared his opinion with the reverend after Mina had recounted the lecture the minister had so piously delivered in her parlor only to be reminded he was on probation for a reason. The conversation had brought on further doubts about his future. He knew there were other denominations that would not have let Mr. Butler pay his way out of being publicly humiliated.

  No wonder Mina did well not to join any church but spent time in her own Bible and attended for more social reasons. He knew many in his last church attended simply because it was the only church for five miles and they had no money to pay the fine for nonattendance.

  Was the denomination important? Did it matter if he preached? But if he wasn’t going to be a preacher, what would he do with his life? Could he be happy as a cobbler? The shoes he’d started for the Steward boy were passable, even without all his tools. But he needed shoe forms and a cobbler’s bench.

  Gideon wondered what tools Aaron would bring tomorrow.

  Nineteen

  Elizabeth wrapped a loaf of bread and some cheese in a cloth. Despite her aunt’s reassurances that the Purdy boys could handle the outside chores for two days, Elizabeth didn’t want Gideon to leave. True, he hadn’t stayed in the barn for over two weeks now, but it was reassuring knowing he wasn’t too far if she needed him. Aunt Mina hopped around with help, but it was exhausting work helping her from the bedroom to the kitchen.

  The back door opened, and Gideon stepped in, pulling off his hat. “It looks like it might storm. Perhaps I should cancel.”

  “Mr. Frost—”

  “Elizabeth, we have discussed this. It’s Gideon.”

  Couldn’t he understand that she needed the distance? She was never going to flirt with anyone again. Of course, anytime now her father would show up and drag her home to marry the ne’er-do-well he’d threatened her with. Mother’s last letter said as much. She tooka deep breath. “I believe you should go. You needn’t worry about Aunt Mina and me. I can do the barn chores if the Purdy boys don’t come.”

  Gideon didn’t answer but raised a brow.

  “Well, I can do them well enough to ensure no animals will die before your return.”

  Gideon nodded. “Mina?”

  “In the parlor.” Elizabeth handed him the cloth-wrapped bundle. “It isn’t much, but I am sure your sister will be planning a feast.”

  He accepted the food and walked into the parlor. Elizabeth didn’t need to eavesdrop to know her aunt was telling him to stop dawdling and get going. Aunt Mina had already repeated herself three times this morning.

  Minutes later Gideon passed back through the kitchen. “Take care and keep Mina down.”

  “I will. Enjoy your time.”

  And then he was gone.

  Gideon pulled his hat low to keep the rain from finding a way down his back. He was made good time with the empty wagon and team he’d borrowed from Mina. Though, if he could have ridden Jordan, he would be at his sister’s already. But the size of his tool chest and crate of shoe forms necessitated a wagon.

  He should stop in at the seminary and give Reverend Ingram his answer, but until Mrs. Porter delivered the child and recovered, he would keep his promise to her. He would continue working to keep Reverend Porter from needing to travel to the outlying parishioners. The encouraging letters from Reverend Ingram did not have the effect the seminary director must have hoped for. Then it would be hard to counter the effects of yet another sermon on virtuous women when added to his previous questions.

  Poor Elizabeth. She would need to return to church this Sunday to the third, and hopefully last, of the sermons Reverend Porter had planned. She’d missed only two weeks, but it would be hard to justify a third if Mina attended. Most of the congregants Gideon had visited with were divided on the subject. Some, like Widow Snow, felt Mr. Butler should have been reprimanded too and that Elizabeth bore no sin whatsoever. Gideon was torn. A year ago he would have also labeled Elizabeth as a temptress to be avoided. But he’d witnessed her hard work at the Stewards before the incident and her help with Mina after. Even if it were Elizabeth’s fault, hadn’t Jesus told the woman taken in adultery to go and sin no more? Why wasn’t that being preached? Wearing a fashionable dress did not equate with adultery. The only sin she’d committed was to be vain and prideful. And if all parishioners were to be judged on those counts, the little church would be empty.

  The rain fell harder as he reached the outskirts of Boston. His sister’s warm house was not far now.

  Ignoring his soaked raincoat, Gideon’s sister held on to him as if she hadn’t seen him in a decade, not just a year. “Constance, let me take off my coat before you drown.”

  “It has been too long.” The fashionably dressed woman stepped back.

  Gideon relinquished his coat to the house servant and resumed the hug. “Do you forgive me?”

  “Always. After all, that is what big sisters do. Come into the parlor. Our brother should return soon. He went shopping for more leather.” Constance rolled her eyes. She never did find joy in the smell or feel of the family trade.

  Gideon wiped his feet an extra time before following his sister. She turned back to make sure he was following her.

  “Constance, have you been feeling well? You look, er—”

  “Fat?” She pressed her hands to her abdomen, pulled the fabric tight, and laughed.

  “Not exactly. More like I shall soon be an uncle.”

  “Ah, I shall let you know in two months if you are correct. Now come and sit. We have not spoken since last fall. You have much to tell me.”

  “Not as much as you think. When I was dismissed from Greenwich, an old man told me to stop wallowing in my sorrow, which I am trying to do.” He hoped she would take that as a warning not to meddle or matchmake as she had last fall. “I am on probation with the church, b
ut I believe I will leave the clergy altogether. Hence the reason why I am here—to collect my tools.”

  “Won’t you return home and work with our brother?”

  “No. He has just enough work to support his family, and he doesn’t need me splitting the profits.”

  Constance narrowed her eyes. Whatever she’d thought of saying, she let it pass. “How do you like your current position?”

  “I am not enamored of Reverend Porter. If it had been their purpose to keep me in the church, they should have sent me elsewhere. However, I work half days at a Mrs. Richards’s home. I do enjoy working there most of the time.”

  “Just most of the time?”

  “She has this niece living with her who is, well, troublesome.”

  “Troublesome? What type of trouble does she give you, dear brother?” The corners of Constance’s mouth turned up slightly.

  “Not the type you are thinking of. She was sent to live with her aunt to be reformed. She’d never even laid a fire before arriving. I feared I might starve the week she came, waiting for her to learn to boil water.”

  Constance raised a brow. “How old is this niece?”

  “Nineteen or so.”

  “I see.”

  The arrival of Aaron spared Gideon from knowing exactly what she saw. During supper his niece and nephew kept them entertained with tales of their schoolyard capers. James, Constance’s husband, spoke of the changes in his shipping company, and Aaron discussed the latest techniques being used by shoemakers. Among them all, Gideon made sure Constance did not have time to speculate on his future.

  Twenty

  Somewhere a rooster crowed.

  Easter Morning.

  This year it fell on the second Sunday of April, a few days shy of the anniversaries of his son’s birth and wife’s death, and the pain hit with full force. The predawn darkness held the memories of unfulfilled dreams and threats of nightmares if he returned to sleep.