by Bonnie Leon
“Certainly, but I’m afraid you’ll loathe me when you know the truth.”
“I won’t. I couldn’t.” Mrs. Atherton offered a look of reassurance. “I care for you too much.”
Hannah wet her lips. “Perhaps confession will help purge my sin.” She set her cup of tea on its saucer, then ran her fingertip around the edge of the cup.
“When I lived in London, before my mum died, I had a lovely life. We lived in a small cottage. Mum had her own business. We didn’t have much in the way of possessions, but we were happy.” Hannah smiled as she remembered those days. “Mum was a superb seamstress. She fit and dressed the best women in London.”
She let out a long sigh. “Then one day she got sick, and a few weeks later she died . . . of the sweating sickness.” The bereavement she’d felt at the time of her mother’s death returned as powerfully as if Hannah had just lost her.
She lifted the cross she wore around her neck. “This was hers. It’s all I have left.” Tears blurred her vision.
Mrs. Atherton leaned closer to Hannah so she could see the necklace more clearly. “How lovely and delicate it is.”
Hannah let go of the cross, then patted it gently and let her hand rest on it a moment longer. “After Mum died, I kept working in the dress shop, but the cultured ladies wanted my mother and not me. They took their business elsewhere. I didn’t have enough money to pay the rent and was evicted. I went to work for a judge, Mr. Charlton Walker. He and his wife have six children.”
The scene the night Mr. Walker assaulted her roared through her mind. She’d not spoken of it since telling Lydia. She clasped her hands together to keep them from quaking.
“One night . . .” She let out a breath. “One night he came to my room. And . . .” She couldn’t get the words out.
“Oh, luv.” Mrs. Atherton reached across the table and covered Hannah’s hands with her own. “You don’t have to say it. I know.” She gently squeezed. “I’m certain it wasn’t your doing.”
“I’ve thought and thought about it, and I can’t remember doing or saying anything that would entice him or make him think that I would want . . . that.”
“You must put it out of your mind. Give Mr. Walker up to the Lord. He’ll deal with the man. That way you can be free of it.”
“There’s more.” Hannah stood and walked to the small window at the front of the cottage. She stared out at the green lawns and towering trees. The wind had picked up and heavy evergreen boughs swayed. “Mr. Walker was the judge who sentenced me to transportation.”
“The blackguard!”
Hannah turned to look at Mrs. Atherton. “He didn’t know I was pregnant. I didn’t then either, not until later when I was on the ship. Babies were born in that dreadful place, but most of them died. I knew I couldn’t have a child, not while I was a convict. What kind of life would that be for a little one?”
Hannah knew she was stalling, hoping to shed some of her guilt by making up reasons for her appeal to God. She swallowed and continued. “I asked God to get rid of it. He did. It was born when I was only four months gone and it was too small to live.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’m despicable. I wanted my child to die.” She turned her gaze out the window. “I’ll pack my belongings if you like.”
“For heaven’s sake! Absolutely not!”
“The proper thing to do would be to send me back to the factory. I don’t deserve to work for such a fine lady as you.”
Mrs. Atherton pushed out of her chair and moved to Hannah. “I’d never send you back there.” She pulled Hannah into an embrace and smoothed her hair. “You’re not wicked. You were just a child who didn’t know what to do. Caring for a baby on a convict ship is the worst sort of situation. You were desperate. I know about that. I’ve been desperate too.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“Of course I don’t hate you. I’ve seen the children who live in prison. It’s a wretched existence. I’m only angry with a government that sends innocents to prison. It’s contemptible.”
Hannah felt some relief and thought she could continue. “Lottie and I were already friends. She’d lost her mother and we needed each other. Lottie’s a lovely child. Mine could have been too. She could have had a fine life here. I just didn’t know.” Hannah pushed her hair back from her face. “I hate myself.”
Mrs. Atherton held Hannah away from her. “Hannah, I believe you’ve given yourself too much credit. God makes the decisions about life and death. He and only he is the one who gives life and who takes it away. If it was God’s will for your child to live, it would have. You did not kill it.”
“I suppose that may be true, but I wanted it dead. I’m certain God finds me despicable.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He loves all of his children no matter what we do. And he’s always ready to forgive a repentant heart.”
“I want to believe you, but I’m certain God is angry with me. So many terrible things have happened. The night Mr. Walker attacked me, everything changed. I’ve felt God’s absence. He’s stepped away from me. I must have provoked Mr. Walker in some way.” Hannah wiped at her tears. “I’m sure God couldn’t love someone like me.”
“That’s not so.” Mrs. Atherton held Hannah close. “God’s love is bigger than all of our sins. When Christ died, he died for your sins. He took every one of them and laid them upon himself so you wouldn’t have to carry them.” She tipped Hannah’s face up and smiled at her. “God sees you as pure, without blemish.”
“If only I could believe you.”
“You don’t need to believe me. Believe God. His Holy Word states it plainly. He says that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. And that his Son’s sacrifice made us holy and blameless.”
So many times Hannah’s mother had spoken of God’s love and forgiveness. Why can’t I accept it for myself?
“You’ve been carrying such a heavy burden. I knew there was something. I could see it in your eyes. The Lord wants you to be free of it.”
“You truly believe he’s not angry with me?”
“Yes. Oh, he may be unhappy about your not trusting him and not trusting the good people around you.” She smiled and hugged Hannah again.
Hannah held on to her, feeling as if Mrs. Atherton were her salvation. Her thoughts turned to John. He’d not understand.
“There’s something else.” Mrs. Atherton gently set Hannah away from her. “What is it?”
“As you know, John followed me home today. He told me that he loves me and wants to marry me.”
Mrs. Atherton smiled. “He’s a fine man. He’ll make a splendid husband. You’re to be congratulated.”
“I told him no.” Hannah hugged herself, rubbing her arms to warm the chill she felt. “I can’t marry him. I’d have to tell him the truth. He’ll be disgusted by me.”
“You know that with certainty, do you?”
“Not everyone is as kind as you. And a man sees with different eyes. He can’t accept a defiled woman as a wife.”
“How can you know what he’ll do if you don’t tell him? I find him an exceptional man who would do anything for the woman he loves.”
“I pray you’re right.”
“I only wish you could see yourself from my eyes, or better yet through God’s eyes. Let the Lord heal your heart, dear. He’s quite good at it.”
After Mrs. Atherton had gone, Hannah sat at the table and closed her eyes. She tried to pray. She needed to feel God’s presence. If only she could believe Mrs. Atherton. Her mother had told her the very things her mistress had. Hannah contemplated on many of the Scriptures her mum had read of God’s love and forgiveness. She and Mrs. Atherton are both faithful believers. They must know the truth, Hannah thought, and yet she couldn’t believe it for herself.
“Lord, I pray you can hear me. I’m a terrible sinner and ashamed to speak to you about my sin. But if your Word is true, even you spent time with the lowest sorts. Will you spend time with me?” She pressed her hands together in since
rity. “I’ll do everything I can to please you. I’ll not spend idle time in gossip or on thoughtless imaginings. I’ll not miss a Sunday service or let my mind wander when the reverend is speaking. I’ll do charitable acts. If only you will wipe away my offense.” Even as she made the request, she knew that if God forgave, she could never forget or feel absolved. Her iniquity would forever plague her.
When she’d finished praying, she remained at the table. Picking up the book of poetry, she thumbed through the pages, reading passage after passage to find solace for her aching heart. She took the book to her bed and only managed to read a few more entries before falling asleep.
Whistling from outside woke her. Sleepily, she climbed out of bed and went to the window. It was John. He walked up the pathway. After all that had happened and all that had been said, Hannah was reluctant to face him.
Smoothing her hair and her crumpled gown, she moved to the door and opened it, doing her best to appear calm and cheerful. Stepping onto the porch, she said as gaily as she could, “Afternoon, John.”
“Good day. You look better.” He stopped and planted his hands on his hips. “I thought we might take a walk?”
“It’s rather late.” Hannah looked at the sky. The sun was low.
“We don’t have to go far.”
Hannah knew it was unwise to be with him, but she wanted to go. “All right, then. Let me get my wrap.”
Pulling her shawl around her shoulders, she asked, “I’ve not seen Lydia since this morning. Do you know where she is?”
“She and Perry went on a picnic. They haven’t come back yet?”
“No.” Hannah moved down the walkway. “I must say I’m surprised. I shouldn’t think of them as a couple.”
“They’re not. Perry wouldn’t take no for an answer. He can be assertive.”
“That’s true. And I doubt that will create fondness in Lydia. It’s a shame. He’s a nice fellow.”
For several minutes, they walked without speaking. Finally John broke the silence. “I like it here in Parramatta. I used to travel some, but never did make it to New South Wales. When I lived in London, I dreamed of adventure.” He chuckled. “I got it. After being arrested, I decided I’d prefer a more sedentary life. But now it’s different. I’m glad to be here.”
His jaw hardened slightly. “I would have preferred a different means of arrival, however. I doubt I’ll ever see the man who stole my savings and my wife.”
“Your wife? You never mentioned that you were married.” Although she’d decided to never marry, the idea of John being unavailable stabbed at her heart. “How could you have asked me—”
“No, no. Margaret’s dead. I received word just after my arrest that she’d died—an ailment of some sort.”
“I’m sorry.”
John nodded. “The bloke who stole her from me is very much alive, at least the last I knew. I hope for an opportunity to see him again. Just once will do.”
“You sound bitter.”
“That I am. And rightly so. He’s my cousin. I took him into the business as a favor. Thought I might be of help to him. His recompense was to destroy the business my father built and then leave me in prison without a farthing.” John shook his head. “He should pay for his sins.”
“You’re right, but it’s God who should see to it that he is punished. Bitterness will only destroy you. You must let it go.”
As she spoke, Hannah’s words penetrated her own heart. She had no right to speak about forgiveness. She couldn’t even forgive herself.
“I’ll not let him off that easily. I can’t.” John’s eyes settled on Hannah. “What is it? Have I said something to upset you?”
“No. It’s nothing. I’m fine. Really.”
John stopped beneath an acacia. Its broad limbs reached out toward nearby trees. He leaned against the trunk. “I’m sorry for earlier today. I was too outspoken and too assertive. I shouldn’t have pressured you when you were already under duress. But I’d kept my feelings inside for so long they came tumbling out before I could stop them.”
He took a deep breath. “I do wish you’d consider my offer. Even if you don’t love me, perhaps you could learn to, given time.” He studied her. “I was almost certain you had feelings for me.”
Hannah couldn’t look at him. She did love him. When she glanced at John, the affection in his eyes compelled her to speak. “I do have feelings for you, John. But . . . I can’t marry you.”
“You love me! I knew it!” He reached for her. “Then marry me. Please marry me.”
Hannah longed to be loved, to be held and protected from the world. She gazed up into his hazel eyes so full of devotion. Why would it be wrong to love him? “I do love you, John.”
Before she could say more, he kissed her. Months of deprivation, a yearning for affection, and her need for forgiveness drove Hannah. She couldn’t resist her passion and returned his kiss, pressing close to him.
When the kiss ended, John continued to hold her. “I’ve prayed for this moment.” He gently lifted her face and searched her eyes. “I love you, more than I can express. I’ll make you a fine husband. We’ll have a grand life here in New South Wales. One day we’ll have a place of our own and children. There will be lots of children.”
Hannah sucked in a breath and stepped back.
“What? What is it? Hannah?”
“I can’t marry you. I’m so sorry.” She backed away. “I’m sorry.” She turned and fled.
“Hannah?” he called. “Hannah.”
She lifted her skirts and ran. What had she been thinking? How could she have allowed this?
When the forest closed around her, Hannah slowed. She sat at the base of a tree, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. Oh John, I do love you.
“Lord, please take this love from me. I can’t bear it.”
22
John hefted a crate of tools to be delivered to a timber site into the back of the wagon. Watching Hannah, he took a handkerchief from a back pocket and mopped his damp face. Even while hanging laundry, she looked beautiful. Yet the sight of her made his heart heavy. Since the evening he’d kissed her, John had no opportunity to speak with Hannah. She had kept her distance.
He’d replayed their conversation in his mind many times. She’d said she loved him, even allowed the kiss, and then abruptly ran away. What had he done or said that had upset her so? He’d believed she was his, finally. And now, without knowing why, he’d lost her.
Resting an arm on the bed of the wagon, he gazed at Hannah. Perhaps she would look his way. Her dark hair had come free of its pins and softly curled around her face. The effect was charming. John remembered the passion he’d seen in her eyes. Why won’t you allow yourself to love me? What can I doto bring you back to me?
Mrs. Atherton stepped out of the house and crossed the lawn. “Hannah, I have a number of errands I need you to do for me.” She handed Hannah a sheet of paper.
John returned to his work. Best not be caught eavesdropping.
“John and Patrick, one of the roustabouts, are traveling into Port Jackson this morning. I thought you could ride along. There are several items I need.”
Hannah stared at the paper and finally said, “Most days I’d be happy to take care of these. But today is washing day. Gwen will need me. There’s too much for her to do alone.”
“Not to worry. Lydia said she’d help.”
“Oh.” Hannah fingered her mother’s cross. “Well then, of course I’ll go.”
“Credit the items to our account. William will look after the bill the next time he’s in Port Jackson.” She started back to the house and then stopped. “Oh, you best take an overnight bag. You’ll most certainly need to spend the night.”
“Yes, of course,” Hannah said. Her voice sounded tight.
John couldn’t keep from smiling. Two full days with Hannah. It was more than he could have hoped for. He whistled while hitching up the horses.
Carrying a small bag, Hannah approached the
wagon. “Good day, John,” she said, using a formal tone. She nodded at Patrick whom she barely knew.
“Good day.” John glanced at Hannah’s bag. “So, you’ll be accompanying me?”
“Yes. It seems Mrs. Atherton needs me to do some errands for her. I hope I’m no bother.”
John glanced at Patrick. “He’s a good bloke, but you’ll add some gentility to the trip.”
“I’ll be glad for yer company,” Patrick said with a grin. “Two blokes together can get tiresome.” He climbed into the back of the wagon. “Figure it’s a fine day for a nap,” he said, leaning against the side and folding his arms over his chest.
John gazed at Hannah warmly. “Your company’s always welcome.”
“This is business, not pleasure,” Hannah said, keeping her tone reserved, but looking disconcerted.
Feeling only slightly deflated, John took her bag and set it in the back of the wagon and then moved around to the front and offered her a hand up.
Hannah settled on the wooden seat, keeping her back rigid and her eyes straight ahead. Her jaw was set.
Perhaps she’ll be less standoffish as we go along, John hoped. If not, I don’t know how I’ll manage a genuine conversation withsomeone who’ll barely look at me. Discouraged and trying to come up with a way to thaw her mood, he climbed onto the seat beside her. He lifted the traces. “We’re off, then.” He flicked the reins lightly, the horses plodded forward. “Warm for August, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
“I heard that August is generally one of our cooler months.”
Hannah looked at John with a puzzled expression. “You said our cooler months. Do you see this place as home?”
“I hadn’t thought on it, but yes. I do.” He looked at the patchwork of forest and fields. “I quite like it here. I’m not inclined to return to England.”
“But I thought you said you wanted to go back, that is, if you are given a pardon.”
“Don’t expect I’ll have to give that much thought. A life sentence means life.” John was unable to keep the dejection out of his voice.