Waking Lucy (American Homespun Book 1)

by Lorin Grace

  “Samuel says this is your handwriting.”

  “So you two discussed this?” Emma raised a brow.

  Lucy nodded. “It says my last name is Stickney, not Simms. Were you there? Is that why you wrote it? Can you tell me who my father is?”

  “It is time for you to hear what you should have been told long ago.”

  Lucy fidgeted. Emma was taking too much time getting started.

  “I wish your mother had done it before, but—” Emma dropped a stitch and worked to retrieve it before speaking again. “Do you have any doubt your mother loved you?”

  “No. She loved me very much.”

  “Good. Now, where to begin… ” Emma set her knitting aside and pulled the Bible into her lap.

  “Perhaps this date will help.” Emma turned back a page to show the first marriage of Anna Stickney to Welford Arthur Simms and the second to James Marden.

  Lucy read the dates. “Mother married Mr. Simms three months before I was born.”

  “Now your grandfather’s death date. Notice he died the week your mother married.” Emma pointed to a different entry on the opposite page, to a name Lucy had rarely heard mentioned. “Mary was your aunt. You will notice she died as winter ended the year you were born. March 22, 1778. I remember the date well. It was six weeks after my own dear little Mary was born. She also died that day. It has always been a comfort to me to think of my two Marys together in heaven.

  “The early months of ’78 were difficult in many ways. My Thomas was away fighting the redcoats. There had been a couple of skirmishes with them farther south. He had been gone for three months by then. He never did meet our little Mary.

  “Many of the men left to fight, including James Marden. He left Anna with a promise to return and marry her. Your grandfather believed that at sixteen she was too young to be wed.”

  Lucy looked at Emma in shock. Her mother had known James before?

  “Your aunt Mary was three years older. Your age now. You resemble her, especially your eyes. She too had a soldier who had been fighting for more than a year. Welford Simms.”

  Lucy sucked in a breath. Her aunt had been in love with Mr. Simms? She could not reconcile anyone being in love with him. Mama had said he was different before the war, but for someone to be in love with him was beyond possible.

  “Your grandfather refused Mary permission to marry Mr. Simms and did his best to discourage the romance. Grandfather Stickney never told anyone his reasons, but he was not fond of Mr. Simms. I think forbidden love was why Mary pursued him. She had a bit of stubbornness to her.

  “On that day, your mother and Mary came to our place to help, as they had each day for several weeks. I had not had an easy lying-in, and Mary was a sickly baby. Samuel had just celebrated his third birthday at the time, and Thomas Jr. was five. Both boys were driving me to distraction. I was so afraid one of them would topple into the fire. Your mother and aunt were a great help to me.

  “That night they left later than I would have liked. The sun was setting, a light snow falling. I asked them to stay, but they thought they must return home to help your grandfather, who had been having problems with his heart.

  “As they walked up the road, they met some men—deserters from the skirmishes to the south, most likely. Cowards from both sides hiked the road during those years. Your mother was never specific about how many there were. They chased the girls into the woods and attacked them. In fighting them off, your aunt hit her head on a rock buried in the snow. After the men finished with her, she lay in the snow, unmoving. Your mother fought back. For her efforts, she was beaten as well as violated. She crawled over to your aunt and curled up. I think your mother expected to die. One of the men must have felt some remorse because he returned and covered her with an old worn blanket. The blanket and the warmth of Mary’s dying body kept Anna alive.”

  Lucy fiddled with her yarn. Poor Mama. No wonder she’d never liked Lucy out after dark.

  “Your grandfather came searching for them just past dawn the next morning. I was still up having lost my Mary mere hours before. He could barely stand, so I left him by the fire with my boys and went to search. Oh, how I wished Anna and Mary would have stayed with me. I found them both in the snow.” Emma paused, and tears filled her eyes. Emma pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes before continuing.

  “The effects of that night stayed with your mother her whole life. Your grandfather suffered as well, his health declining even more. By summer, your mother realized she was with child. When your grandfather found out, he took to his bed, never to leave.” Emma put away the handkerchief.

  “Several of our men came back to us in the late summer, including my Thomas and Welford Simms. They had both been wounded. As you know, Mr. Simms walked with a limp the rest of his life. By then James Marden had gone farther south and joined General Washington, where he became a valuable spy. I often wondered if things would have been different, if James had returned home with the others.”

  “When Welford Simms learned of Mary’s death, he was furious. He blamed me since the girls had been at our place helping. He and Thomas came to blows over it before Thomas sent Mr. Simms away.” Emma paused and stared out of the window.

  Lucy gave up any pretense of working.

  “Your mother ran this farm with the help of a twelve-year-old boy until Mr. Simms came. Your grandfather was dying and worried about how Anna would survive, so he signed the farm over to Mr. Simms after extracting a promise from Mr. Simms that he would care for your mother and give the unborn child his name and protection. Of course, every gossip in town knew what had happened. You were not the only child with an unknown father from those years of war. In those days, every woman knew it could be any of them, so we all politely pretended nothing was amiss.

  “He wasn’t forced or trapped into the marriage. He wanted the farm and a family. He got both. Mr. Simms married your mother under the big tree near the barn. The next Sunday they attended church and stood when the minister announced their nuptials. Mr. Simms turned and placed his hand on your mother’s stomach. You should have heard the gasps.”

  Emma paused to chuckle at the memory. “I thought old Mistress Murdock was never going to be able to breathe again. He declared this was his son and any who disputed it would face his fist. And more than one person was acquainted with those fists.

  “Your grandfather died in his sleep a few days later. Mr. Simms seemed to live up to his agreement for the next two months. The farm thrived. Every place he visited he spoke of the coming birth of his son.

  “One stormy night, he sent for me. Anna was having a bad time.”

  Lucy nodded.

  “Mr. Simms paced back and forth all night. His uneven gait echoed through the cabin. It did little to settle Anna as all that separated them was the curtain drawn across the room. He finally left and went to the tavern.

  “Your mother was nervous. She was worried what would happen if you were a not a boy. When she realized you were a girl, her joy was replaced by fear. She begged me to take you and keep you to replace my Mary. My heart still was too broken, and I had no milk. If I had known your future, I would have taken you and raised you. But then Samuel would have been your brother.” Emma waved a hand.

  Lucy didn’t want him as a brother.

  “Your mother fell asleep cradling you and crying. I thought it was the effects of the lying-in. I could not comprehend her fears. I stayed with your mother until the next day when Mr. Simms came through the door, demanding to see his son. Anna was feeding you.

  “‘I’m sorry Welford,’ your mother apologized. ‘She is a girl.’ He let out a roar and stepped toward your mother, intent on grabbing you. Your mother shielded you with her body.

  “She cried, ‘Welford! Welford! Please, there will be more. Don’t hurt her. She looks so like
Mary. May we call her Mary?’”

  “I think the thought of you resembling Mary stopped him. ‘You may call that child anything you want,’ he barked. ‘But two names you may never call her—Mary and mine.’” He then turned to me and said, ‘This whore has born a daughter. Write whatever name she bids in the Bible but make sure the last name is Stickney so all will know she is a daughter of a whore.’

  “He slammed the door and left. I stayed with Anna for a week. He did not return for two.”

  Emma pointed to Lucy’s name. I wrote this. Your mother debated what to do. She believed Mr. Simms would not harm you. And for years, he did not—until the day you called him Papa and he broke your arm.”

  “I never knew he broke it because I called him Papa.” Lucy puzzled over the revelation.

  “I don’t know if he meant to hurt you. Setting your shoulder back into place was so painful you fainted. You walked to our place with your mother often, so you knew the way. I am still not sure how you did it on your own. Imagine my surprise that morning when Samuel brought you in from the barn instead of the eggs. You were covered with scratches and dirt.”

  “So I am not Mr. Simms’s daughter. That is why he refused to let me call him Papa.” Lucy looked down at the Bible. Things were clearer now. “Why did mother not tell me?”

  “I begged her to. I don’t think she thought you were ready to hear or understand. I don’t think she wanted to remember it. You were not conceived in love, but she loved you, and she needed a husband. Unfortunately, Mr. Simms was available at the time. As hard as life was with him, it would have been worse without him. She couldn’t run this place on her own. At least Mr. Simms wanted the land enough to make sure she never starved.”

  “He kept promising to change. When he took you home after breaking your arm, it was a while before he hit you again. Anna was right. Even then you resembled Mary. I think as you got older it annoyed him more and more. By then it was too late. We couldn’t take you away from him. Publicly he let you use the name Simms. I think that is even what is recorded in the parish record. As the war ended and we tried to move on, no one wanted to remember the deserters or what had happened to innocents like your mother and Mary.

  “Anna and I encouraged you and Samuel to spend as much time as possible together. It was a safe place for both of you. He became your protector, which kept him out of trouble, and you were away from the farm. As you got older, we saw the potential for a lifelong romance, and we both hoped you would marry someday.”

  Lucy raised her brows. “What does Samuel know about this?”

  “I told him nothing beyond what he’s read in the Bible.” Emma clasped Lucy’s hand. “This is your story to tell.”

  “I mean about your plans for us to wed.”

  “He knows I’ve never been opposed to it. I give you my word I didn’t force him to marry. As to your story, he may remember bits and pieces. He was three when your aunt died and I brought your mother to my place while she recovered. I’ve never asked him about those days, so I don’t know if he remembers anything or not. He was young enough that he might not. I do encourage you to tell him soon—tonight, if you can.”

  Lucy kept silent for a while and then slowly nodded her head. “I will. It is hard knowing Mama was violated. But it is better than thinking she was one of the awful names Mr. Simms called her. I am glad to know I am not Mr. Simms daughter.”

  “I think your mother tried to console herself that the deserter who showed some remorse and left his blanket was your father. I think he came back once during the summer and tried to apologize. There was a young stranger outside the church one day. He came up and tipped his hat to her. “Miss, I am truly sorry for all your losses and pain.” Then he gave her a small leather pouch and left. Anna didn’t say a word; wouldn’t talk about who he was. Never said what he gave her either.”

  “Ach! I smell the bread burning!” Emma hurried from the room. Lucy didn’t smell anything burning. She simply sat and stared out the window. A cardinal flew down to snatch something from the snow. How red he was against all the white.

  Twenty-seven

  Lucy sat shoulder to shoulder with Samuel, the Bible open before them. The clock ticked away the silence. The story became more real to her having retold it. Mama had been only three years younger than she currently was the awful night Aunt Mary had died and Lucy was conceived. Mama had survived one nightmare only to begin another. Mr. Simms had, in a way, kept his word. Though the Bible held her real name, she had been enrolled in school as Lucy Simms, and she and Mama had always had food and shelter. Knowing her mother was not any of the names Mr. Simms called her helped her love her mother all the more.

  Never had she considered her mother a weak woman, even though she wished she would not have put up with Mr. Simms’s bullying. Lucy could not comprehend the strength her mother must have had just to live with her circumstances.

  Samuel ran his thumb back and forth over Lucy’s palm. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “So when shall we arrange to say our vows?”

  Lucy shrugged her shoulders. She had not been thinking about the future as much as the past all day. How like Papa Marden Samuel was, making him the best man she had ever known. Knowing the truth had changed nothing for him. If anything, he seemed more accepting of her. Papa Marden must have known the truth about Mama, Mr. Simms, and her. Lucy came to the conclusion he must have loved Mama more for it, not less. The same feeling emanated from Samuel. In the silence, she became more his partner than she had been an hour ago. The shared secret bound them closer. Perhaps that was what marriage was about—sharing burdens.

  It was all Lucy could do to wait until she could retake her vows. With a twist of her head, she could start a kiss that would go on and on, ending beyond the closed bedroom door. Why had she wanted to wait? Oh yes. She needed to remember her wedding and do it with her real name.

  Samuel brushed his fingers on her cheek. “Sweetheart, did you hear me? When shall we say our vows?”

  Right here, right now. “Tomorrow?”

  “Pa and the boys are leaving in a few hours, at dawn. If we want them there, we will need to wait.”

  “I would like to have your parents there.”

  “Then a week from Sunday after church? If Ma invites the reverend to dinner, he can’t be too upset by having to repeat himself.”

  Lucy counted on her fingers. “It is Christmas Eve.”

  “Then it will be the best Christmas gift ever.” Samuel sealed his sentence with a chaste kiss.

  Samuel stepped into the kitchen, a sack over his shoulder.

  Emma looked up in surprise. “I didn’t expect you until later.” She eyed the bag suspiciously.

  “Lucy and I talked last night and decided it would be best if I moved home—”

  Emma’s gasp interrupted him. “No, Samuel, you must not.”

  “Move home for the week, Ma. We decided to get married again, or, in Lucy’s mind for the first time, on Christmas Eve, when Pa is back.”

  Emma sat down. “Ach, son, you almost made my heart stop. So you are getting married again?”

  “Providing the reverend agrees. If not, we will take our vows verba de praesenti that afternoon in front of you and Pa. Lucy says she wants to feel she is married before… um, well, before… ” Samuel knew he turned as red as a ripe apple, and he couldn’t complete the sentence.

  Emma stifled a grin and nodded.

  “I’ll ride over each day to care for the animals. Just do the reverse of what I planned with yours. Besides, I can work in Pa’s shop. I’ve got something special to finish up.” Samuel flashed a grin before heading up the stairs two at a time, whistling the entire way.

  Twenty-eight

  “Absolutely not!” Reverend Woods roared. Lucy tried to shrink back into the high-backed chair in the reverend’s office, a
nd Samuel leaned forward as if trying to insert himself between Lucy and the irate minister.

  Reverend Woods stood, his face a sickening shade of red. “I will not perform your marriage again. There is no need. I did it correctly the first time. I don’t care what your name is in the family Bible. It is recorded in the parish record as Simms, signed with your father’s own hand as I have shown you.” Lucy was somewhat mollified to see that Mr. Simms had publicly kept his word about claiming her as his own.

  She interrupted, realizing too late that it would only fuel the preacher’s tirade. “But I did not agree to my vows the first time.”

  “Are you calling me a liar? All present heard you distinctly agree at the appropriate time. I signed my name to the record. Your marriage stands.” He turned to Samuel. “I hold your parents responsible for this outrage. Flaunting their unsanctioned marriage has given your wife unacceptable ideas. Instead of bowing to her demands, I suggest you take her home and take her in hand.” The reverend pointed to the door.

  Realizing that engaging the reverend further might result in excommunication or worse, Lucy gathered her wrap and the Bible and hurried out of the room. She wondered if the reverend would use her selected scripture as the text tomorrow, keeping with the tradition for the bride to choose the text the first Sabbath after she’d wed. Samuel had been curious as to her choice, but she’d refused to tell him. Most brides found a way to poke a bit of fun at their grooms with the verse they chose. Lucy had written hers on a scrap of paper she’d handed the reverend when they’d first entered.

  Reverend Woods gave an amused smile when he read the paper. Their meeting had started as well as it could. The discussion as to the validity of the marriage had gone well up to a point. The reverend had seemed more concerned about records than he was their feelings on the matter.