Uncle Abram’s bushy beard twitched impatiently. “Well Leah? Shall I send him in?”
Leah took a deep breath and let it out. “Of course,” she answered, wincing at the tremble in her voice.
Aunt Cynthia placed a reassuring hand on Leah’s shoulder.
Uncle Abram’s eyebrows drew together. “Alone, Cynthia,” he clarified. “I’m sure Leah will be fine with the man she intends to marry.”
“Oh,” Aunt Cynthia said as her cheeks tinged pink. She turned to Leah. “I’ll be right outside if thee should need me.”
Her uncle closed the door, leaving Leah in anxious silence. Surely it was a good thing Caleb wanted to speak to her before the ceremony. He wouldn’t have let things go this far if he planned to call it off. Of course he’d been gone for the past two weeks, settling his affairs before reporting for duty. Maybe he simply hadn’t had the opportunity to tell her he’d changed his mind.
A soft knock on the door recalled Leah’s wandering attention. “Come in.”
The door swung open and Leah gasped. Before her stood the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Dressed in the Union’s blue uniform, Caleb was tall and well built, with a straight nose and full lips. Black brows framed piercing blue eyes. His dark hair curled around his ears and fringed the stiff white collar of his shirt. He removed his hat and stood stiffly in the doorway. “Miss Wall,” he said, then swallowed and began again. “Miss Wall, I’m Caleb Whitaker.”
He waited for Leah to acknowledge him, but she was dumbstruck by the man’s heart-stopping presence.
Caleb cleared his throat and slid his hat’s brim through his fingers. “I’d like to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into before we seal this bargain.”
Bargain? Didn’t he know what a great favor he was doing her?
“I have two children—a girl, twelve, and a boy of four. My wife died shortly after giving birth to Stephen, so he’s never known a mother. Olivia, that’s my daughter—well, Olivia is dead set against needing a new mother, so you’ll probably have your hands full with her.”
Leah’s gaze transfixed on Caleb’s hands as he continued to rotate the hat. They were so big, a farmer’s hands, accustomed to hard work, and yet they gently caressed the brim.
“My aunt Rose has been helping me with the children for the last few years, but she’s getting up in age and unable to take the children full-time. I have eighty-three acres of good farmland. There are fruit trees—pear, cherry, and apple, of course, as well as butternut. I am to report to Evansville, but I don’t expect to be gone long. I can’t imagine the South lasting more than a few months, so I’ll be back soon.”
Caleb’s gaze drifted to the small window beside the door. “In return for you doing me this honor, I promise to be responsible for your well-being for the rest of your life.”
Leah tore her gaze away from Caleb’s hands and looked at his profile. In her twenty-four years, she’d learned there were many kinds of men—those who couldn’t be trusted, those who treated livestock better than their own wives, and those who broke their word as easily as spring ice. What kind of man was Caleb Whitaker?
“He’s a good man,” Uncle Abram had assured her. “It’s true he’s not a Friend, but he’s worked with us in helping many runaway slaves on their way to freedom. Besides Leah, thee isn’t likely to get another offer.”
Caleb looked at her, waiting for her response. Did he really think she’d decline his proposal? He was offering her a chance to get away from Uncle Abram’s constant disapproval. She’d prepared for life as a spinster, had looked into the future and seen nothing but a barren womb. Like Jephthah’s daughter, she’d bewailed her virginity and resigned to life as an unwanted poor relation. But everything had changed in a scant two weeks.
She was to be married.
She was to be a mother and a wife.
Someone did want her.
Caleb’s sheathed sword clattered as he shifted his weight and looked at her. “Is this arrangement agreeable to you, Miss Wall?”
Leah struggled to answer, but her mouth was as dry as an August afternoon. “I—I…”
Caleb’s dark brows drew together.
She reached for the water pitcher on the minister’s desk. Caleb sprang into action, pouring the water into the glass and handing it to her.
She took the glass with a shaky hand. Realizing she’d soon be drenched, she tried to steady the glass. But once free of her tight grip, her bouquet rolled off her lap and onto the canvas rug. Caleb dropped to one knee and retrieved it.
How like a suitor he looked, kneeling at her side, offering her flowers. She almost reached out to stroke his clean-shaven cheek.
Leah smiled in spite of her trembling insides. “I thank thee,” she said, taking the bouquet. “I will do all I can to be a good wife and mother.”
Caleb stood. “Thank you, Miss Wall. Shall I tell the minister we’re ready to begin?”
Leah nodded her assent, and Caleb stepped out of the small room. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
Uncle Abram reappeared in the doorway. “Let’s go, girl. Thy aunt has a wedding feast planned, and I’m hungry.”
Leah rose on shaky legs, took another deep breath, and followed her uncle into the small sanctuary. Dark wooden pews lined a central aisle, and arched windows let in the afternoon sun. Caleb stood next to a portly, balding man dressed in a black frock coat, white shirt, and black bowtie. “Good morning, Miss Wall,” the man said. “I’m Reverend Harrison, and I’ll be conducting the service today.”
In the Quaker tradition, a couple who desired to marry stood before the gathered Friends and spoke their vows to each other. Leah should have known the Methodists would be different. “Good morning,” she replied.
“Is everyone ready to begin?” Reverend Harrison asked.
Uncle Abram clasped Leah by her upper arms and guided her to stand in front of the minister. “She’s ready,” he said for her. Caleb stood on her right side.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister began.
Leah glanced at her aunt. Cynthia’s hands covered her face, but Leah could see her aunt’s excitement shining from her brown eyes. When Uncle Abram had told Leah about his arrangement with Caleb, Aunt Cynthia had nearly erupted with excitement. “It’s too bad thee didn’t bring thy wedding chest with thee,” Aunt Cynthia clucked, “but we’ll get some linens together quick as a wink.”
Leah hadn’t told her aunt she’d never begun a wedding chest. When other girls her age had begun making linens and collecting dishes, Leah’s mother had directed her down another path. “It’s better for thee to learn a trade than to fill a chest with dreams. I’ll teach thee how to keep the bees, and thee will never want for a taste of sweetness.”
“Therefore,” the minister continued, “if any can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him speak now….”
No one would dare object to Leah’s union with Caleb. Least not Uncle Abram. Ever since she’d shown up at the railroad station with one trunk, her box of medicinals, and two empty bee skeps, he’d let her know she was a charity case. Orphaned at seventeen, she’d had nowhere to go except to her father’s brother. But every ounce of her uncle’s resentment was matched by a pound of her aunt’s gratitude. With four sons, Aunt Cynthia had welcomed another woman’s set of hands.
The minister turned to face Caleb. “Caleb Whitaker, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
What sweet words. What a blessing it would be to have a man to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her. If only the women of her home village could see her now, marrying a handsome officer and taking her place among the wives of this community. Her mother’s acquaintances had publicized their opinions well—plain Leah, tall as a willow and thin as its
branch. Such a pretty complexion wasted on such a homely face. How she’d like to see those ladies now.
The minister cleared his throat, jerking Leah’s attention from the painful memory. Reverend Harrison smiled at her and raised his eyebrows. Leah smiled back.
“Will you?” he asked.
“Will I what?”
Aunt Cynthia laughed. “Say ‘I will,’ Leah.”
Leah looked over her shoulder at her aunt.
“Say ‘I will,’” Aunt Cynthia repeated.
Her uncle sighed heavily, his very breath communicating his dwindling patience. “The man’s asking if thee will take Caleb to be thy husband, Leah. Say ‘I will.’”
“Oh.” Leah glanced at Caleb. His left hand was on his sword, his back as straight as the ladder-back chairs of the Friends’ meetinghouse, and his gaze fixed on the minister. “I will,” she said finally.
Reverend Harrison nodded his approval. “Is there a ring?”
Caleb removed a small ring from his coat pocket, showed it to the minister, and reached for Leah’s hand.
Leah shivered at his touch, but Caleb seemed unmoved as he slipped the gold band around her finger. The minister spoke on, but Leah’s attention was riveted on the ring. It was true. She was a married woman.
Aunt Cynthia embraced her while Uncle Abram shook Caleb’s hand. “Welcome to the family,” he said. “My wife’s prepared a fine meal for all of us. Come out to the house, and we’ll celebrate. Would thee like to come, Reverend?”
“Can’t make it today,” Reverend Harrison answered. “I’ve got a funeral in a few hours. But my best to the new couple.”
Aunt Cynthia took Leah’s arm and pushed her toward the door. “Wasn’t that just lovely? Weddings are such happy times. The boys were supposed to take thy trunk and medicinal box to Caleb’s farm. Is thee excited to see thy new home?”
Leah looked back at her new husband. Caleb stood, his hands behind his back, listening to her uncle and the minister. But his eyes watched her.
Leah froze at the threshold, one foot inside the church, the other outside. Caleb’s steady gaze called to her, drawing her back to his side. Wasn’t that where she belonged now?
“What is it?” Aunt Cynthia asked. “Did thee forget something?”
“Is Caleb coming with us?”
“Of course he is.” Aunt Cynthia laughed softly.
But Leah could neither force her feet to move nor tear her gaze away from Caleb. Every part of her being longed to return to his side, to slip her hand into his and make her allegiance clear.
As if sensing Leah’s indecision, Aunt Cynthia called to her husband. “Abram, we’d best get going before the boys help themselves to Leah’s wedding cake.”
“On our way,” Uncle Abram called back.
Leah’s gaze never wavered as Caleb approached. Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Abram stepped outside, leaving the newlyweds alone in the church.
Caleb smiled at his new wife. “It’s kind of your aunt to prepare a meal for us.”
Leah returned his smile. “She’s been preparing since Uncle Abram told us the news.”
Caleb offered his arm to her. “Shall we go?”
Leah linked her arm with his and allowed him to lead her outside. This was the way it should be, walking by her husband’s side for the rest of her life.
Chapter 2
Leah moved into the kitchen to help her aunt with the meal.
“No, no.” Aunt Cynthia shooed her away with a dishcloth. “The bride never prepares her own wedding feast. Thee and thy husband are guests of honor today.”
Thee and thy husband. Leah would never tire of hearing that.
Uncle Abram’s voice sounded from just outside the open door. “Matthew! Where are thy brothers?”
“Putting the horse to pasture,” Matthew called back to his father. “Mark took Leah’s things to Caleb’s place and let the little ones tag along. Hello, Caleb. Congratulations on thy marriage.”
“Thank you,” Caleb answered.
“Come in the house,” Uncle Abram said, “and make thyself comfortable. The other boys will be here soon.”
Leah stood in the middle of the kitchen and watched the threshold, eager to see Caleb’s boot step into the house. If he came inside her uncle’s house, it would somehow signal his acceptance of Quaker ways.
Young John’s voice called, “Is Leah here? Did she get married? Is she back yet?”
“Slow down,” Uncle Abram called to his youngest son, “before thee runs out of air and collapses like a paper lantern.”
The sound of men’s laughter floated through the open doorway, but still there was no black boot.
Seven-year-old John ran into the kitchen, his flushed face shining as he threw his arms around Leah’s waist, turning her so quickly she almost lost her balance. “Leah! Guess what! Me and Luke carried thy trunk all by ourselves. Mr. Whitaker’s house is awful big. Bigger even than ours. And Stephen’s going to have a new colt.”
Leah brushed the blond hair from her young cousin’s forehead. John was like the wind before a spring storm, refreshing yet overwhelming. “When thee comes to visit, the colt will be there.”
“Call thy brothers,” Aunt Cynthia commanded him, “and tell them to wash up. It’s time to eat.”
John tore his arms from Leah and dashed toward the door. “Matthew! Mark! Luke! Time to eat!”
Leah chuckled at the young boy’s antics, yelling his brothers’ names before leaving the house, but when she turned back toward the door, she saw Caleb standing rigidly inside the kitchen. As soon as she’d stopped watching for him, he’d come in.
Aunt Cynthia brushed past her with a platter of meat. “Sit thee down, Caleb. Anywhere is fine. Everything’s ready.”
Caleb hung his hat on a peg near the door, unbuckled his sword belt, and hung it next to his hat. He drew back a chair and waited for Leah to be seated.
She smiled and moved toward him. “Thank thee,” she said as she eased into the chair. Perhaps some women were accustomed to such a gentlemanly courtesy, but it was a first for Leah. Would the rest of her life be filled with such civility and consideration?
Loud voices and the stomping of boots announced the arrival of her cousins. Matthew, the eldest, was first through the door. “Congratulations, Leah,” he said with a dimpled grin. “We’re going to miss thee around here. Especially Mother.”
Before Leah could reply, the second son, Mark, came in. “Does this mean I’ll have to ride all the way to Caleb’s farm if I want honey cookies?”
“There will always be honey for thee and thy family,” Leah assured him.
Uncle Abram took his seat at the head of the table. “Did thee know Leah keeps bees, Caleb?”
“No I didn’t.”
Matthew took the seat across from Caleb and shook his dark hair out of his face. “She’s got two skeps full of honeycombs and some supers beneath them. She just sold twenty jars of honey to the general store in Newport.”
“Skeps?” Caleb asked.
Matthew poured milk into his younger brothers’ cups. “A skep is like an upside-down bushel basket. The bees build their hives in it.”
“And a super?” Caleb asked. “What’s that?”
“Extra baskets,” Mark continued, indicating the structure with his hands, “that sit underneath the skep. The bees store their extra honey in them. That way, Leah doesn’t have to destroy the original hives when she harvests the honey.”
“Sounds as though you know a lot about bees,” Caleb remarked.
“Not me.” Mark said. “Leah taught me everything I know. Before she came I chased away bees, but now I respect the little creatures. They work harder than my brothers and me at harvest time. Plus Leah knows all about doctoring. She’s cured more than one stomachache around here with her box of medicinals.”
Caleb looked at Leah. “Will you move the bees to my farm or keep them here?”
He was so close to her, she could see the small dark whiskers the razor had miss
ed. “When I find a good spot for them on thy farm, I will move them. Does thee object?”
“Of course not. Your bees and their honey will be a good addition. Where did you learn about medicine?”
“From my mother. She knew how to mix medicinal plants with the honey and wax to treat aches and pains.”
“Where’s Luke?” Aunt Cynthia asked. “Has anybody seen him?”
“Want me to go look for him?” Young John asked in his high-pitched voice.
“I do not,” Aunt Cynthia answered. “I want thee to stay right where thee is.” She shot a glance at Caleb. “It’s a wonderful thing to have four sons, but getting them all in the same place at the same time is not an easy task. Matthew, will thee—”
Before she could finish her request, Luke came into the room. Leah’s heart went out to the painfully shy boy as he shuffled to his seat, his face averted from Caleb’s gaze.
“Finally,” Aunt Cynthia said as she took her seat opposite her husband.
Uncle Abram bowed his head. “Let us say grace.”
The family sat in silence, each one giving quiet thanks. Leah adored the many moments of quiet prayer Quakers enjoyed, and after her hectic morning, she was relieved to close her eyes and reconnect her soul with God. She thanked the Lord for Aunt Cynthia, who’d welcomed her with open arms. She asked for blessings on her cousins, all healthy young men who grew stronger with each season. She thanked God for the man who sat at her side. Caleb would take her away from this house and into his own, and there they would build a life. She even gave thanks for Uncle Abram and asked the Lord to give her a more understanding heart when it came to her uncle’s harsh words.
Leah raised her head and met Uncle Abram’s gaze. It was his custom to watch his family, and when the last head lifted, end the prayer. Leah looked around the table. Everyone’s head had lifted except Caleb’s.
They sat in respectful silence, waiting for Caleb to finish his prayer, but when the seconds stretched into minutes, and when Mark’s stomach complained loudly about its emptiness, Young John dissolved into giggles.
Where the Heart Is Romance Collection Page 28