Heart's Surrender

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Maybe that’s not enough, Adam. I feel outside forces pulling at us. It scares me.”

  He squeezed her close. “You just wait. By the end of summer it will all be straightened out. Your parents will have no choice but to let you marry me. Our being together is as natural as the sun rising. We have joined just the way the animals do, naturally, a male and female drawn to each other by the hand of God. We are all one, you know—the land, the air, the animals. This is all just a part of the joy of life, and it is right. God approves of it. That is why men and women were made like the animals, why they mate almost the same way. It is all just part of nature, except that we think.”

  “My mother says it’s wrong to enjoy a man.”

  “She has never known this kind of joy. She was brought up under those silly white man’s rules that say to enjoy our bodies is a sin. It is not a sin. It is good and right. Otherwise we would not have been made this way.” He kissed her again then, gently fondling a breast. “It might be another whole week this time, Andrea.”

  “Oh, Adam!”

  He moved over her again, and the tree sheltered them from the outside world.

  Later the same day Mary washed her face of the sweat that had resulted from her long walk. Her curiosity over Andrea’s frequent long rides had gotten the better of her. She’d waited and watched, sneaking along behind Andrea that morning when her pony went by and started its ascent of the ridge. The climb had slowed the animal enough to allow Mary to follow. But when the Cherokee boy had come running down to greet Andrea, Mary had ducked behind a bush and had quickly descended, afraid the Indian boy would somehow sense her presence. She’d feared he might kill her and scalp her for following.

  So, it was true! Andrea was meeting Adam Chandler on the ridge! It was more than friendship. Maybe Andrea even knew about boys now. Maybe she’d been…Mary’s jealousy knew no bounds. She wanted to be the first to have an Indian boy. Yet there was Andrea with Adam though she acted so innocent and good.

  She wiped off her face and went into the kitchen.

  “Where have you been all morning?” her mother asked.

  “Just walking.” The girl sat down at the table and picked up a peach. “Mother, if a girl is really a good friend, shouldn’t she tell on a friend she thinks is doing something that is bad for her?”

  Ethel Means frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…well…I think you should tell Andrea’s parents to watch her better…maybe follow her and see where she goes when she rides in the morning.”

  The woman eyed her closely. “What has Andrea been up to?”

  “Oh, Mother, she’s my best friend! I don’t want her to get into trouble!”

  “Mary Means, you tell me what’s going on!”

  “Well, she just…I saw her go up the ridge, that’s all. Maybe it’s nothing. Oh, please don’t tell her parents I’m the one who told.”

  Her mother sighed deeply. “I won’t tell. But I’ll try to suggest that her father watch her for a while.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have said anything if she weren’t my best friend.”

  “I know, dear. You’re a good girl.”

  Mary smiled.

  Chapter Seven

  Andrea saddled her pony. She had met Adam five times since the first time he’d made love to her under the oak tree. Each time seemed more wonderful than the last. And she didn’t doubt his sincerity. There was not a treacherous bone in Adam Chandler’s body. In her heart she knew their love was good and right. Somehow, someday they would tell the whole world about it. But it was nearly August now. Something had to be done before school started. How could a woman like herself think about school now?

  She tightened the cinch, then heard footsteps behind her. Her father stood at the doorway to the stall.

  “Where are you going?”

  She could not help reddening at his sudden appearance and the all-knowing look in his dark eyes. He had caught her off guard. Never before had she been questioned when taking her pony out for exercise.

  She swallowed. “Just…just riding, Father. All my chores are done.”

  “You stay home today.”

  She could feel herself sweating, and she was suddenly weak. Adam! He was waiting for her!

  “Why? I said I did all my chores. My room is clean and—”

  “You’ll stay home today and not question it,” the man snapped. “If you want to exercise your pony, ride him around in the back field, within sight of the house.”

  He knew! Somehow he knew, or at least suspected! But how much did he know? “I don’t understand, Father. I…I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Haven’t you?”

  She swallowed again, trying not to shake visibly. “No, I haven’t.”

  The man nodded slowly. “Then don’t start now by disobeying me. Stay close to the house. And I suggest you do some thinking, girl, about not bringing shame upon this family and falling into sinful ways.”

  “I…I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You think about it, daughter. Go and think about it, and pray about it, and remember your Bible lessons. You’re a child, with a child’s mind, too ignorant to know when you might be being foolishly used. I’ll not question you. I’ll give you this one chance to think about…things…and to start acting in an honorable and Christian manner. No more will be said about it. But there will be no more riding alone, understand? This country is too dangerous, and right over that ridge are Indian boys just itching to get their hands on pretty little girls like you. Now stay close to the house and say no more about it.” He turned and walked out.

  Andrea’s eyes brimmed with hot tears of anger and panic. Adam! What would he think when she didn’t show up? How could she bear not being able to see him again? How could she explain?

  She climbed up onto her pony, backed the animal out of the stall and trotted it out of the barn. She headed to the back field. She had to be alone. She had to think. Adam! Adam! She rode hard, all the way to the back fence, where she dismounted and walked to the railing. Leaning on it, she burst into bitter sobbing. If only she were older. If only she had some kind of help, someone to talk to. Should she just jump the fence and keep riding? Should she head for the ridge and ride over it, never to return? What would her father do? Would that bring a lot of trouble to the Cherokee, make them hate her? And was she truly a bad girl for lying naked with Adam Chandler? She loved him. Adam didn’t think it was bad. He already considered her his wife, the Cherokee way. Things were once so simple for the Indians. Why did her people have to make everything so complicated? How could a piece of paper signed by a preacher make a marriage any more right and valid? Some people who married that way weren’t happy at all. But Andrea knew she could be blissfully happy living with Adam.

  She sat down in the grass, unable to stop her crying, and prayed with all her might that something would happen that would let her be with Adam. She prayed he would understand, when she didn’t show up, that it was only because she couldn’t, not because she didn’t love him anymore. But what if he didn’t?

  “Oh, Adam!” she sobbed. “I love you so much. Please don’t be mad at me.”

  How long she sat there crying, she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t go back to the house. She never wanted to go back. They knew something, and they would look at her with those eyes, those accusing eyes. But how did they know? Where had she gone wrong? She wiped her eyes and tried to think. What had happened the last few days? On Saturday she had met Adam again. Yesterday was Sunday, and the Meanses had come for dinner, as they always did. Mary had been more friendly than she’d been since they’d argued in front of Ruth.

  Andrea’s eyes widened, and her heart filled with hatred. Mary! She was nicer because she knew inside she had betrayed her best friend. Surely Mary had said something. That was the only way Andrea’s parents would suspect anything. Maybe Mary had dropped some kind of devious hint to her own parents, and they had said something to Andrea’s. She got to her feet, her fury almos
t unbearable, tears coming again, this time tears of anger and hatred.

  Mary! Jealous, deceitful Mary. She was just like her brother! She broke into renewed sobbing, for on top of everything else, it was obvious she had lost the loyalty of the girl who had once been her best friend. Mary had betrayed her. It all made sense now, the quiet dinner table yesterday, the way the Meanses had kept looking at her, as though she had stolen something or shot someone. What had they been thinking? Dirty, lurid things, no doubt. They thought her simply a “bad girl” who liked to do naughty things with Indian boys. Whatever Mary said, she had surely made Andrea’s behavior sound terrible. And no matter what Andrea said now, she knew she could never make herself look any better. She had been sneaking around behind her parents’ backs, and that was enough to make them disbelieve anything she said.

  How many more tears were left in her? How could she ever stop crying? Everything was going wrong. Maybe she would never see Adam again. Somehow she had to get a message to him. Somehow she had to see him once more.

  She heard her mother’s voice calling then, and she shivered. She blew her nose on a handkerchief she kept tucked into her belt, and wiped her eyes. They would know she’d been crying, but she didn’t care. What did it matter anymore? She mounted her pony, her legs suddenly tired and weak, and rode slowly toward the house.

  “It’s nearly lunch time,” her mother called when she came closer. “You’ve been sitting out there for nearly four hours! What’s wrong with you, child? Are you sick?”

  The woman looked startled upon seeing Andrea’s swollen eyes and puckered face. “You’ve been crying. Are you in pain or something? I knew there was something wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she answered sullenly. “Father told me I couldn’t go riding anymore. Why, Mother? I’ve been good.”

  The woman’s eyes hardened slightly. “So, that’s it. Well, we both discussed it and agreed you should stay closer to home. For heaven’s sake, Andy, it isn’t something to make such a fuss over. Is all that crying just because you can’t go riding?”

  The girl just hung her head, and wiped at her eyes again.

  “There is something you aren’t telling us, Andrea Sanders,” her mother chided. “And I think it has to do with a boy. That’s why the long rides will stop. I only hope you haven’t done something foolish and shamed yourself before God. I think you have some praying to do, daughter. If you’ve had feelings for a boy, you’d better ask God’s forgiveness and just forget those feelings. They’re useless and sinful, and you’re just a child. It is a boy, isn’t it? Have you been meeting someone up on the ridge?”

  Andrea reddened and swallowed. Adam! Poor Adam! “No,” she answered quietly. “I just like being alone.”

  The woman studied her daughter closely. “So. You have chosen to add lying to your list of sins!”

  Andrea met her eyes pleadingly. If only she could talk to the woman. “Mother, I haven’t done anything bad. I—”

  “Unsaddle that pony and go into the house! I’ll hear no more of your lies! Maybe staying in your room for the next two weeks, and ten lashes across your thighs with your father’s leather belt, will rid you of your sinful ways, Andrea Sanders! I never thought a daughter of mine would stoop to sneaking behind our backs. We know you’ve gone to the ridge, so don’t deny it. I’ve seen how you look when you get back, all starry-eyed and flushed.” It suddenly struck Andrea that the woman seemed almost jealous. “The only thing we don’t know is who you’ve been meeting up there. I only pray that he is a white boy! Now get that pony to the barn!”

  Andrea’s chest felt as if something were crushing it. What should she do? How could she talk to Adam? Never had she seen her mother so angry. If she could get away with murder, she’d go and kill Mary Means. This was her doing, Andrea was sure. How else would her parents know she’d been up on the ridge? Mary had planted a seed of distrust, and it had sprouted. The only saving grace was that they didn’t know who the boy was. Maybe they didn’t even suspect Adam. Her heart lightened a little, and she headed her pony to the barn. If they didn’t suspect Adam, maybe she could talk them into letting Ruth come to stay. Then she could get a message to Adam!

  Of course! That was the answer! She would say it was a white boy but wouldn’t give a name. Then she would say she was sorry and would never do it again, and she’d ask if Ruth could come and stay. They still wanted to find out everything the Cherokee were up to. They’d surely let Ruth come, and then she could get a message to Adam!

  She unbridled and unsaddled her pony, brushed her down and then hurried back to the house. She didn’t relish seeing the look in her mother’s eyes, and she could already feel the awful sting of the leather belt on her thighs. It wasn’t used often, but when it was, the pain was long remembered. But she would not tell. She’d never tell who the boy was. They’d never know—not until she was safe in Adam’s arms and in his home, where she would stay forever.

  Adam paced nervously. Where was she? Something had gone wrong! Did her parents know? Had they found out somehow? Or perhaps Andrea was hurt. Perhaps her pony had stumbled and thrown her somewhere along the way.

  He grabbed his own horse and headed it down the ridge. Maybe he should look for her on her side, just to be sure she wasn’t hurt. He carefully made his way through the thick, forested hillside. It was a beautiful summer day, and the sweet smell of wildflowers filled his nostrils, while singing birds serenaded the sun. But he saw and heard nothing. His heart was heavy with dread. What had happened to Andrea? She would never deliberately not come. He was too sure of her love and loyalty. She was his wife by all Cherokee standards.

  He carefully led his horse over rocks and fallen trees until he was nearly at the bottom of the ridge. He looked out at the distant farms, then moved carefully behind thick foliage and, in deep shadow, headed toward the Sanderses’ farm, deciding it would not be wise to be spotted. Finally he tied his horse and proceeded on foot until he was close enough to see people and movement. Her father was working on a plow, banging a hammer against the metal, but Andrea was not in sight. He worked his way farther around to the other side of the house.

  Then he saw her, sitting far out in the back field near the fence, her pony beside her. Why was she there? The pony was saddled and ready to ride. Something was very wrong, and his heart beat wildly. What had happened that kept them apart? He felt sick inside. He moved through growing corn, stooping low so as not to be seen, making his way toward the fence. He would call out to her, find out what had happened. He had nearly reached Andrea when he heard her mother calling for her. He cursed himself then for not having come sooner. By the time he’d reached the spot from which he would have called to her, she was already mounted and riding toward the house.

  He crept closer and watched from the cornstalks. She was close to her mother now, and the woman seemed to be shouting something. He caught only pieces of words and sentences: “sneaking behind our backs…ridge…at least a white boy…across your thighs with a leather belt…”

  His lips tightened. They knew! Somehow they knew, but apparently they did not know who she’d met. Andrea! Poor Andrea! Were they going to beat her? What did they mean about a leather belt? Was she going to suffer on his account? He felt as though he would burst with rage. Yet he could not go over there and tell them anything. That might make things worse, them finding out it was a Cherokee boy she’d been seeing. And as long as they didn’t know that, there might be a way he could see her, go to the house on a casual visit and somehow get a message to her. He hated leaving her, but he had no choice. At least the problem was caused by her parents. If it were due to someone dangerous, he would have ridden right in there and killed him. Perhaps in the end he would have to ride away with her against her parents’ will. There seemed to be no other way.

  He turned and went back through the corn and the underbrush, making his way back to his horse. He would get to her. Somehow he would get to her, talk to her. Andrea! Poor Andrea! They were going to meet, mak
e love, be together again. How had the day turned out so terrible? How could he stand not knowing what had happened, and what was happening to her now? And how had they found out? Mary? He’d like to get his hands around Mary Means’s neck. He wished this was the old days, and he could just go and murder the girl slowly! Poor Andrea, suffering her parents’ angry tirades all alone, being made to look and feel bad and sinful. He could just imagine what they were saying to her. And if they knew her lover was a Cherokee boy…He blinked back angry tears. Nothing hurt so deeply as unwarranted prejudice and hatred. They loved each other. Why shouldn’t they be together? It was all so simple. Why did everyone else have to complicate it, just because she was young and he was Cherokee?

  He reached his horse and hugged its neck, weeping against its mane. “Andrea!” he sobbed. “Damn them! Damn them all!” He mounted up and headed back up the ridge. There would be no Andrea today, no sweet love under the oak tree. Perhaps they would never be together that way again.

  Two long, lonely weeks passed. Every day Adam went to the oak tree, hoping that by some miracle Andrea would show up. But she never came. She was suddenly gone out of his life, and the emptiness was almost more than he could bear. The only way to end this agony was to have her near him always. He thought about sneaking to her house in the night and stealing her away. But that would give her parents an excuse to have him arrested. Maybe something even worse would happen. And he had to think about the consequences for the Cherokee. Still, if doing things the right way did not work, he knew he would eventually resort to stealing her and taking the risks.

  The right way. What was the right way? He knew the answer. He must go to the Sanderses’ house, admit his love for their daughter, and ask for her hand in marriage. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Maybe now that they knew she had been seeing someone, when they found out who it was, they would consent for the sake of her honor. Yes! Of course! He’d been sitting here every day under the oak tree and praying for an answer. This was the answer. He would bring it out into the open once and for all. He laughed out loud and started to run home. He would talk to his father. They would go together to get Andrea and bring her home with them. Surely now that her parents had had time to think about everything, they would know it was the right thing to do. His own father had once told him that if he still loved Andrea after a time, he should go and tell her parents. And he most certainly did still love her!