by Lorin Grace
The rocking chair creaked slightly as Lucy sat down.
He dried his hands and carried the high-backed chair as close as he could to the rocker. The rocking of the chair sped up. “Do you have any other questions for me?”
“What?”
“About the funeral?”
“Oh no.” Now that she sat next to him, he had no idea where to begin. “There is one question I thought you would have asked me by now. I am surprised you haven’t.”
Lucy quirked her brow.
“You haven’t asked me why I came back from Boston, and why I am not a doctor.”
“Why did you come back?” Her tone was flat.
Samuel looked at her solemnly. “I faint at the sight of blood.”
Lucy sat up straight, causing the rocker to stop midcreak. “What? Since when?”
Samuel gave her a half smile. “I explained the whole thing to you the night I proposed. I guess you don’t remember. I attended lectures as often as I could, and after a year and a half, I got an apprenticeship to follow Doctor Warren. At first, blood just made me feel uncomfortable, but my aversion to it grew. Eventually I became ill. There was a child—he didn’t live. It got worse. In September the doctor asked me to help with a surgery—I don’t even remember seeing the patient. The next week he asked me to help suture an arm. I fainted again. We had a long talk, and I came home.”
“Oh, Samuel, all your hard work and all the money you earned to study at Harvard. Didn’t you know before you left?”
Samuel rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “It didn’t bother me when you had scrapes. Animals don’t seem to bother me either. Just people.”
Lucy covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“What is so funny?”
“I’m sorry, but it is funny. A doctor who faints at the sight of blood. Who would’ve thought?” Lucy continued to giggle. Samuel smiled. It was a ridiculous notion. He hadn’t seen much humor in it earlier this fall, but when Lucy put it that way, it did seem funny. He enjoyed the sound of her laughter as it dispelled the tension in the room.
Lucy reached her hand out and touched his. “Samuel, how horrid of me to laugh. I truly am sorry. I know how much you enjoy helping people. You wanted this so badly.” Lucy sat back in the rocker, all evidence of humor gone from her eyes.
“It was difficult at first. When I came home, I was ashamed to tell anyone. With you gone, I think that is why I talked with Elizabeth Garrett. She is so vain she never once asked me why I came home. I knew you would, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. “Disappoint me?” she echoed.
“Probably the dumbest excuse in history for ending the engagement. But it is the only one I had. I should have ridden to Gloucester as soon as I realized you were there. The longer I waited, the harder it got. I didn’t want you to see what a failure I was.”
“For not being a doctor? Do you think I would be so shallow?” Lucy asked, her eyes wide, her voice bordering on shrill.
He should have never underestimated her. “No.” Samuel rubbed his neck again. “I felt like such a failure. I didn’t want you to see me as one too.”
“From where I sit, you must be a pretty good doctor.” Lucy held her arms wide. “After all, I am not in the hill with Mama.”
Samuel smiled. “I am not bad as long as no one is bleeding. Best you ask Ma to deliver our children.”
“Our children?” Lucy’s eyes widened.
Samuel kicked himself. That was not what he’d meant to say, but he couldn’t snatch the words back.
“But we are not married. We are not going to have any children. You are going to leave and go back to Elizabeth. I am not going to ruin your life. You deserve to be happy. You may not be a doctor, but there are other options. You make beautiful furniture. There is always farming. I’m to sell this place when I go to Boston. It is a good farm.” Lucy clapped both hands over her mouth.
Samuel raised his brows. “Well, that is a lot to discuss, isn’t it?”
Lucy did not move her hands from her mouth and nodded.
“I think you missed the part where I called Elizabeth vain and told you I should have never even talked to her. I didn’t initiate that kiss in the orchard. But I did end it very fast. If the children had stayed longer, they would have heard an earful.”
Lucy dropped her hands. “But she is so beautiful and fits like a little bird under your arm. Everyone says you would be good together.”
Samuel leaned forward his elbows on his knees, lowering himself to Lucy’s eye level. “Elizabeth Garrett is not the woman for me. She is not kind. She is vain and has a terrible habit of spreading malicious gossip. She does not have soft-brown, honest eyes, nor maple-syrup hair and a kind heart like the woman I love. I am afraid I ended up hurting that woman very much.” He wanted to reach out and pull Lucy into a kiss. Putting everything he was feeling into words was so difficult. He looked up to see Lucy staring at him.
“Who is it? Martha has brown eyes.” Lucy dropped her gaze to her hands.
“Lucy. It’s you. It always has been.”
“No.” Lucy’s eyes widened. “You can’t. You can’t!” Faster than he thought possible, she leaped out of the chair and scooted around him and into the bedroom.
Lucy slid down the closed door, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.
“Lucy?” Samuel’s voice came through the closed door.
Lucy raised her face to the ceiling and wiped away her tears but didn’t respond. Please God, let him leave. Help him to see he can’t love me. I’m not good enough. She stopped her prayer, realizing she was about to list the reasons Mr. Simms named, and most of them were too profane for God’s ears.
Samuel tapped on the door. “Lucy, please?”
Lucy closed her eyes and muttered her prayer again and again. He can’t love me. He can’t love me. He can’t love me.
She could feel Samuel standing at the door as the clock ticked away the minutes. After ten, she heard him walk away.
Lucy let out a sigh as the front door closed. Maybe God had answered her prayers. Exhausted, she crawled over to the bed and climbed in. Sleep came quickly, but her dreams were troublesome.
Twenty-four
“So, Old Brown, where did I go wrong? Was I too direct when I said I loved her? Does she not love me back? I was sure I saw it in her eyes.” I felt it in her kiss. Not that he would say that out loud, even to his horse. Samuel hung his head. Old Brown nudged him, seeking a carrot or leftover apple. Samuel rubbed Old Brown’s nose and reached for one of the apples that sat in a nearby barrel. “I know what you are after. You just pretend to be wise. There you go, you big beggar.”
Old Brown took the apple and stepped back.
Samuel walked over to Lucy’s birthday gift. It could use one more coat of whitewash.
An hour later, he was stretching to reach the top of the last wall when Sarah burst into the barn. He flipped the brush in his hand, raining white droplets all over his face.
“Samuel! Come quick!”
He dropped the brush in the can and wiped his hands and face with a rag.
Sarah grabbed his hand and tried to drag him out of the barn.
“What is it, Sarah?”
“Lucy is having a bad dream. I tried singing, and she won’t wake up.”
The shove Sarah gave him was unnecessary. Samuel sprinted across the barnyard with Sarah running behind him.
He threw open the door and entered the large bedroom. Lucy was pounding on the headboard and screaming, “No! No! I am the bad one.”
Samuel scooped her into his arms. Lucy struggled and landed a solid punch to his chest, causing him to spin around and fall onto the bed, which allowed him to free one arm. He grabbed both of Lucy’s fists in one ha
nd and brought them to his chest, then began to rock her.
“Lucy, sweetheart,” he cooed.
“No tack room. No tack room,” Lucy screamed, working one hand free. A wide swing caught him on the jaw.
Gasping for air, Sarah leaned on the doorjamb. “Sing!”
Samuel recaptured Lucy’s fist more securely this time and started singing, “Lavender’s blue, diddle diddle, Lavender’s green, When I am king, diddle diddle, You shall be queen… ” He skipped over the verses Sarah had omitted before. On the third time through the song, Lucy relaxed and stilled. Waiting a moment to see if she would wake up, Samuel continued to hold her close. When she didn’t wake, he placed her back in bed. After the abrupt end to their conversation this afternoon, Lucy would not react well to waking in his arms.
He left the room but did not close the door all the way.
“That is the worstest she has ever been,” said Sarah authoritatively.
“Do you think she will have another one?” Samuel felt foolhardy soliciting the five-year-old’s advice.
Sarah thought for a moment, her finger on her chin. “No, she never has before.”
“Sit and play here at the table. I need to finish in the barn. I’ll be in as soon as I can. If you need me, come to the porch and yell. I will hear you. And if Lucy wakes up, don’t tell her I sang to her.”
Sarah nodded solemnly. “May I get my dolly?”
“Of course. I must go out to the barn now. I left the lantern burning, and one should never leave a lantern in the barn.”
Sarah nodded and scooted up the stairs.
Lucy woke with her throat raw and her hand bruised. The nightmare. She groaned. It had been years since she’d had a nightmare bad enough to leave her throat burning from her screams. She wondered if she had awakened Sarah or if Samuel knew. Of course not. She’d heard him leave. She hugged herself to dispell the remnants of the dream. Mr. Simms shouting at her that no one could ever love Anna’s ill-begotten daughter. Lucy, you are a brat not worthy of any man’s love. Names far worse than “ill-begotten” mingled with her memories. He’d called her mama an evil shrew and Lucy the devil’s child before dragging her to the barn more than once.
Lucy took several deep breaths. She remembered Papa Marden rocking her and singing until the dreams left and she felt safe. Where was Papa now? She needed to hear how he loved her and how Mr. Simms had lied. Lucy stood and walked to the open door, intent on finding him. Then it hit her. Papa was dead. Who had sung to her this time? Maybe Papa had come as an angel.
Sarah looked up from the table where she sat playing with her doll.
“Sarah, did I wake you with my nightmare?”
“No… ” Sarah drew out her answer. “I was already awake.”
“Did you sing to me?”
“Yes, but it didn’t work.”
“It didn’t work?”
Sarah tilted her head, then shook it slightly. “No, it didn’t work when I sang.”
“I dreamed Papa Marden sang to me.” Lucy hugged herself, wishing for his secure arms around her. “I could feel him. It must have been an angel.”
“It wasn’t an angel, it was—” Sarah clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide.
Lucy relaxed her arms and looked quizzically at Sarah. If not Papa in a dream and if Sarah knew, it must be Samuel! Lucy’s hands flew to her hips. “Sarah Beth Marden, was Samuel in the bedroom? Did he sing to me?”
Sarah kept her hands over her mouth and mumbled something, her eyes downcast.
“I asked you a question. I expect you to answer.” Lucy took a step nearer the table.
Sarah pulled her hands a fraction of an inch from her mouth, blurting “I can’t say” before clapping them over her mouth.
Lucy closed her eyes and counted to ten. Samuel. It had to be Samuel. She’d confused the lingering odor of hay and wood with Papa Marden’s scent. Samuel hadn’t left. Her heart did a funny sort of dance. Samuel had stayed. Her heart was happy, but her mind was upset. Lucy slumped into the rocking chair, confusion clouding her thoughts.
“He stayed. I can’t believe he stayed,” she murmured aloud.
“Who stayed? Samuel? Of course he stayed. He is in the barn,” Sarah said.
Lucy had not meant the question for Sarah. Glancing at the clock, she jumped out of the chair. “I best get supper on.” She would pretend nothing happened unless he brought it up.
Without saying another word, Lucy checked the beans and whipped up a batch of johnnycake. She wasn’t sure how long it would be before Samuel came in, and she wanted the food hot. She needed to apologize for running out and make him understand. He needed to go. He had to be mistaken. He couldn’t love her.
She could hear Papa Marden telling her someday a man would love her just as much as he loved Mama. “I’m afraid I’ll cry the day you leave me, but they will be happy tears because, sweet one, you deserve love.” He was forever telling her she was loved by him, by Mama, and by God, almost as if he knew she didn’t quite believe it.
His reassurances were hard to believe, especially when the nightmares came. Mr. Simms would yell at her that no one could ever love something as disgusting as she was before leaving her alone to repent of her sinful nature in the tack room.
Which voice was right? Mr. Simms was so bitter about being trapped in his marriage to Mama. He yelled almost daily at Mama. Lucy had no idea how Mama had trapped Mr. Simms. She never replied to his outbursts. She never explained them.
Lucy remembered what she had seen in the Bible. Checking the johnnycake, she decided she had enough time to reread the entry. She laid the thick book on the table and flipped to the back pages. She was running her finger over her name when the door opened and Samuel stepped in.
“Reading before supper? Or am I late?” Lucy shut the Bible before he could see where she’d been reading, stood and placed the Bible back on its shelf.
Before Lucy could ask her question, Sarah launched herself off the bench and wrapped her arms around his knee. “No, you are not late.”
Samuel raised an eyebrow in question. Sarah glanced at Lucy, her eyes wide. She tugged on his arm and cupped her hand to whisper in his ear. “I didn’t tell. Honest, I didn’t. But she figured it out, and now she is all funny. I’m sorry.”
Samuel gave her a quick squeeze. “Can you set the table, little one? I smell johnnycake. Do you think your sister will let us eat a bit of honey with it?” He gave Lucy a lopsided grin.
Caught off guard, she whirled to grab the honey crock from the cupboard and set it on the table. She thought he would say something about the dream or her running from the room. But he didn’t even seem upset, even with Sarah for telling. She couldn’t help but stare at him just to be sure there was no trace of anger on his handsome face.
Samuel winked in response.
Lucy’s face flamed, she turned to the fire to hide her blushing while removing the beans and johnnycake. Could it be true? Did he love her like Papa Marden said would happen, even after seeing the scars? Papa had shared his love with all of them daily. And not a day had gone by that she didn’t catch Papa kissing Mama at least once. He told her that the right husband would want to do the same with her.
Samuel and Sarah kept the dinner conversation going.
“Your hair is wet.”
“Yup, I needed to wash it.”
“Why?”
“It got all messy.”
Sarah opened her mouth to say something else, but Samuel changed the subject. “Oh, I forgot. Ma invited Sarah to come for the morning. She said something about needing help with baking a cake.”
“Bake a cake? With currents and nuts?” Sarah asked, her mouth full of beans.
Samuel nodded, and Sarah clapped her hands.
They remembered my birthday. With Samuel
and Sarah gone for the morning, maybe she would have enough time to solve the mysterious entry in the Bible.
“Can I Lucy? Can I?”
Lucy realized both Samuel and Sarah were waiting for her to respond.
“I don’t see why not. You will listen to Mrs. Wilson and stay back from the fire?”
Sarah nodded exuberantly, her curls bobbing about her head.
“Well, it is time for girls who are going on visits to get ready for bed,” Samuel announced with a grin.
Sarah hopped up and ran up the stairs.
Before Lucy could get up from the table, Samuel reached across and clasped her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth on the back of her hand.
Tingles ran up Lucy’s arm. She stared at their joined hands for a long moment before raising her eyes to meet his. What she saw stopped her breath—there was no anger; not even the disappointment she expected, just blue eyes full of concern. Funny, blue had always reminded her of cold. But this blue was warm, like the blue flames that occasionally danced in the fireplace.
Samuel opened his mouth to speak just as Sarah came skipping down the stairs. “Later.” He promised, giving her hand a squeeze.
Lucy scooped the dishes into the dry sink while Samuel opened the Bible. Lucy had no idea what Samuel read. She barely registered Sarah begging him to tuck her in. Nor did she remember starting to clean the dishes. It was not surprising when she didn’t hear Samuel come down the stairs and stand behind her.
“Lu—”
Lucy dropped the plate and dishrag into the pail, splashing them both as she stepped back into Samuel’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist as they balanced themselves. Lucy moved to step out of the embrace, but his gentle hold was firm.
“Lucy, we need to finish our conversation. We can’t do it if you run away.” His words tickled her ear. She could feel each breath he expelled. She wondered if she could even remember how to breathe. Samuel loosened his hold and stepped back, then turned her by the shoulder to face him. “I can’t force you to stay and talk, but, please, will you?”