But this time he took her in his arms and pulled her close—so that she felt the pressure of his arms and the beating of his heart beneath her palms where they rested on his chest—and the intimacy of the contact frightened her. Still, as he sought her lips, she submitted, for she knew this was part of courtship—or so she had been told. She had heard girls laughing and joking about being kissed and had never been able to join in.
Clyde’s lips were hard and demanding, and something about the way his hands touched her only increased her fear. Instinctively she pushed him away, though with more force than she intended. Dortch stared at her, something in his face that she could not read.
“Forgive me, Grace,” he said briefly. His tone was clipped and terse, but he tried to smile. “I’ll see thee tomorrow.”
As Dortch wheeled abruptly and walked to his horse, Grace clasped her hands together tightly. She opened her mouth to call out, to say something that would take the sting from her abrupt rejection, but no words came. Finally as he mounted and spurred his horse into a run, she called out.
“Clyde—!”
But he was gone, and she stood there in the warm darkness, her cheeks burning, thinking of what had happened. Tears burned at her eyes unexpectedly, and she brushed them away impatiently. She was a warmhearted young woman, and she had been sure that when this time of her life came—the time when she agreed to marry a man—she would be able to respond to her beloved’s caress. But all she had felt with Dortch was fear…and repulsion.
There must be something wrong with me. Turning, she moved back into the house, her heart heavy and her mind troubled.
When her father saw her face, he asked quickly, “Did thee and the young man have a quarrel?”
“No, Father,” she said, but there was no happiness in her face, and as she left to go to her room, Swenson watched her carefully. He knew she was more afraid of marriage than looking forward to it. Finally he shook his head, muttering, “There’s no way I can help her with this thing.” He moved slowly to blow out the lamp, then turned and went to his room, where he lay awake for a long time thinking of many things.
CHAPTER 3
GOOD-BYE TO LOVE
Spring had come, and the days when the sun was sharp and bright and full became more common. The sun settled westward, seeming to melt into a bed of gold flame as it touched the faraway mountains, and the air became warmer with breezes coming out of the south, smelling of pleasant weather.
Amos Swenson knew his land as well as he knew himself. He well understood that in another few months’ time, winter would crouch on the rim of the horizon, ready in one day or night to come over the land, turning it black and bitter, shriveling every living thing exposed to it. But it was for this violent change of seasons that Amos loved this land—a land that was full of goodness, like a smiling and beautiful woman whose lavish warmth and generosity sprang from those same strongly primitive sources that could make her cruel.
Yet it was not just the changing of the seasons that Amos felt as the days began to lengthen. No, he knew that he himself was beginning to fade. He measured his strength carefully, grieving at times as he thought of the vigor of his youth, but he felt no fear at leaving this life behind. For him it was like stepping over from a dangerous and difficult place into a place filled with kindness and light.
His only regret was leaving his daughters.
One evening he sat on his front porch, wrapped in a light blanket against the breath of the cool night air, studying the stars. They glittered overhead like cold fire—tiny points of light that never failed to draw his interest and admiration.
Grace came out, looked down at him, then sat down in the swing. Following his gaze upward to the brightly lit heavens, she asked, “How many are there, do you suppose?”
“Someday I’ll ask the good Lord to let me count them.” Almost he added, “And it won’t be a long wait until that day,” but he caught himself, coughing slightly to cover his near slip.
Grace looked at him quickly. “It’s too cool out here. Let’s go in the house, Father.”
“Nothing in there like that.” Amos smiled, waving at the spangled heavens. “‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork.’”
Grace looked upward again, but her mind was on her father. He was failing rapidly, and the doctor could do nothing. “Don’t let yourself hope too much, Grace,” the doctor had said quietly to her in private. “His heart is very weak. He could go at any moment.”
A thickness came to her throat as she thought of losing her father, and she dropped her eyes from the stars to look across the porch at him. He had been an anchor in her life ever since she was a little girl, and the thought of being alone stirred a sharp pain in her breast.
She sat there trying to turn her thoughts away from loss, and his quiet voice broke the silence. “Has thee made up thy mind about the wedding, daughter?”
“Sometime soon,” Grace said evasively.
Swenson was not a persistent man, but there was an urgency in his thin voice as he said, “It would please me if thee made the date soon.”
Grace looked up, startled—this was as close as her father had come to mentioning his death. Filled with confusion, she could not answer, and he added, “It would be a comfort to me, Grace, to know you were provided for.”
“I don’t want thee to worry about me,” she said quickly. She sought some reassurance that would give him comfort and said finally, “Thee has taught me how to run this farm. It’s paid for, and there’s good help in Jed and Benny. I am well taken care of.”
Silence seemed to fall all about them as they sat there. Grace could hear the ticking of the big clock in the hall, and even at that moment it chimed seven times—a mellow sound that faded slowly away.
“We are God’s children, Grace,” Amos said slowly. He’d been thinking about his departure, and now he decided that it was time to discuss it with this tall daughter of his. “We’ve not talked about it, but I’ll not be here long.” Grace made a small sound, and her father got up and went to sit beside her on the swing. He took her hand and held it in both of his, saying nothing until she grew still.
“We’re not like people tied to the earth, are we?” he asked. “We’re pilgrims, looking for a city not built with hands. And when I leave, I’ll see my dear mother and father and my brothers. And my beloved Martha. And one day, thee and thy sisters will come, and then all the others. It’ll be one family, Grace—the family of God, all together! That’s a thought I’ve clung to for years, and it’s more real now than ever.”
“But I’ll be all alone!”
“No! No!” Amos said quickly. “Thee will have the Lord Jesus! ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,’ He said. Remember that?”
“Oh yes, but it’s hard!”
Swenson squeezed her hand, wishing he didn’t have to continue—but he was a wise man and knew that certain things had to be discussed. “Let me tell thee what must be done.…”
Grace sat there as he spoke of his funeral and where he wanted to be laid at rest. He mentioned that he’d seen Lawyer Simms and that all was in order. “The farm is left to thee,” he said. “Thy married sisters have husbands to care for them. I can depend on thee to take care of Prudence until she marries.” He hesitated slightly, then nodded. “When thee marries Clyde, that will make a difference as far as the farm is concerned.”
Grace sensed some doubt in her father’s voice. “How is that, Father?”
Swenson stroked his chin, considering what he must say. It was not a simple matter, and he had prayed much over it. “Clyde is not a settled man, Grace.” He held up his hand quickly as if to ward off her protest. “That’s not to say I’m opposed to him as thy husband. But he’s not had his own place to run, has he?”
“N–no,” Grace agreed haltingly. “But he’s a good farmer!”
“I do not doubt this, but it is one thing to know how to plow and another to keep a place going. Think of how man
y times we’ve seen young men who couldn’t manage that. Some of them were just too young, and others were just the kind who can’t build.”
“And you think Clyde is one such as those?”
“I think he needs time to mature. That’s why I’m leaving the farm in thy name, and I’m asking thee to let it stay that way for two years. By that time, the young man will either have proven himself—or he will need more time.”
Grace thought of what he was saying, then shook her head. “I don’t know if Clyde will agree. Isn’t the man supposed to be the head of the family? He might be shamed at such a thing.”
“Pride is a dangerous thing, Grace. It’s the sin through which the angels fell.”
When Grace didn’t respond to this, Amos added gently, “I’ve prayed much about this. The Lord has given me a scripture.” This often occurred with Amos Swenson, and Grace had learned to trust such things. Since her youth she had seen her father wait on the Lord in times of need, meditating on the scripture until some portion of it fixed itself in his mind.
“What is the word?” she asked.
“It’s a verse from the third chapter of Lamentations.” Amos nodded. “‘It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.’” He sat there silently, the creaking of the swing making a faint noise, then added, “I believe it is God’s will that thee should wait until Clyde proves himself before handing over the farm to him.”
Grace was troubled, but it never occurred to her to dispute her father. “I’ll tell him right away.”
“No, that is my place,” Swenson said at once. “It is but a small matter, if he will have it so.” He hesitated, then asked again, “Will the wedding be soon?”
Grace nodded slowly, knowing that her father wished to see her safely married before he died.
“Yes, Father,” she said quietly. “I’ll speak with Clyde. It’ll be very soon.”
Summer came to Pennsylvania overnight, it seemed. With the wedding drawing ever nearer, this should have been a happy, exciting time for Grace. Instead it was a time of tension, for her father grew no better. He spent long hours in bed. When he did rise and make his way around the house, it was with the careful steps of the confirmed invalid. More and more, Grace stayed close to the house, leaving the outside work for Jed and Benny, not wanting to be far from her father’s side.
The plans for the wedding were made, but she felt little of the joy she had always believed such an occasion would bring her. Rather, she felt queer stirrings at the thought of what lay ahead. She had seen less of Clyde than she’d expected, for as the date of their marriage grew closer, he seemed to be more and more taken up with other things. Grace felt that she was the cause of some of this, for she had refused to go with him on more than one occasion, pleading as an excuse that she had to stay close to her father.
More than once she had suggested that he take Prudence to accompany him. After a brief resistance, he would agree. One time Prudence, who hated to miss any sort of activity, had said, “It’s you who should be going with Clyde, Grace.”
But Grace had smiled, saying, “I’m a better nurse than you are, Prudence. Go on and have a good time. I know it gets lonesome for you around the farm.”
One of Grace’s good friends, Charity Blankenship, came often to visit with her. The two women were the same age and had been close since childhood. Charity, who was married and had one child, a boy named Caleb, was a cheerful young woman. She had found great happiness in her marriage and with her lot in life.
One afternoon Charity drove her buggy up to the front door and brought her three-year-old Caleb into the kitchen. Grace put him at once on a high stool and proceeded to stuff sugar cookies into his mouth as though he were a young bird. She loved children, and as Charity rambled on about what she’d been doing, Grace listened quietly.
Finally the two women sat down at the table to hot, spicy sassafras tea. Almost at once Charity asked, “Well, how does it feel to be nearly married, Grace?”
“Oh, fine,” Grace said at once.
Something in her tone drew the other woman’s attention, and she laid a sharp glance on her friend. “Thee doesn’t sound as happy as I’d like,” she murmured. “Not having some lastminute fears, are you?”
Grace shrugged uncomfortably, then came up with a small smile. “I suppose most women do, don’t they?”
“I don’t know about other women. I didn’t have any.”
“You’re different, Charity. You and Tom were made for each other.”
Charity sipped her tea, then said carefully, “I think it’s pretty common for women—and men, too—to have some doubts. It’s a big thing, getting married. Aside from choosing to serve God, it’s the biggest decision any of us ever make.”
“That’s true, isn’t it? It’s for the rest of our life.” Grace’s smooth face usually reflected a peace that most people admired, but she was agitated now. “If thee makes a mistake in marriage, there’s no way to go back and erase it and start over.”
“Grace, aren’t you certain about Clyde? I’ve heard you talk about how we can know God’s will so often. Don’t you have any inner light on getting married?”
“I—thought so.” Grace nodded. “But lately I’ve been wondering if it might not have been something I wanted instead of something God has planned.” She leaned forward, shaking her head with doubt. “Father wants me to be married, and I’ve always leaned on him for counsel. But lately I’ve thought his sickness has influenced him. He wants so much to see me safe before—” She broke off abruptly. “In case something happens to him,” she finished. Then she frowned and laughed shortly. “And it’s sort of a last chance for me, Charity.”
“You don’t know that, Grace!”
“No? Hasn’t thee noticed there isn’t a group of young men lined up to court me? Clyde’s the only one—and I can’t risk missing out on marriage and having a family!”
Charity yearned to help her friend, but she didn’t know what to say. Finally she gave it up, saying, “Well, I’m sure thee and Clyde will be happy.”
“I’m trusting we will.”
“Where’s Prudence? I wanted to talk to her a little about the plans for the wedding.”
“We needed some things from town, so she and Clyde rode in to get them.” Almost defensively she said, “I would have gone, but Father’s having a bad spell, and he seems to be comfortable only when I’m here.”
“Oh, that’s too bad, Grace.” Charity studied her friend and seemed about to say something, then apparently changed her mind. With a sigh she said, “Well, this time next week thee will be an old married woman like me. Then you’ll have a little Caleb to take care of. It’ll be nice when we can get together with our children and our husbands, won’t it, Grace?”
“Oh yes!” The thought brightened Grace’s eyes, and she seemed to brush away the cares that had been weighing her down. By the time Charity left, she felt much better and went to check on her father. He was asleep, but half an hour later he came into the kitchen and sat down.
“How about some fresh milk?” Grace said with a smile. She had been trying everything she could think of to get food into him, and she insisted that he eat one of her cookies and drink some milk.
He nibbled dutifully at the cookie but obviously had no appetite. “Was that someone come to visit?” he asked. His voice was rusty—as though from lack of use—and his eyes were dim with the pain that never seemed to leave him.
“Yes, Charity came by,” Grace said with a nod. “She wanted to talk about the wedding plans.”
Amos looked out the window, swallowed a sip of milk, then asked, “Prudence and Clyde not back yet?”
“Not yet. They had quite a few errands.” Grace came to sit closer to him on the deacon’s bench. “How does thee feel?”
“I can’t complain.”
Grace put her hand on his and whispered, “Thee never does.”
The two sat there quietly, letting the old clock tick away the seconds. It was a gift they
had, this ability to sit and say nothing while drawing strength from each other. It was the Quaker gift of inner peace, of silence, and as the time ran on, neither of them felt the need to say anything.
Finally Grace moved her head. “I think I hear them.” Getting up, she went to the window and looked across the yard. “Yes, it’s them.” She watched as the wagon drew up and as Clyde jumped to the ground then moved quickly to lift Prudence to the ground. He put his hands on her sides and lifted her slight weight as though she were a child.
Too bad he’ll never be able to lift me like that, Grace thought. He can’t help it if he’s small, and I can’t help it if I’m large.
As she watched the two laughing together about something, Grace realized sadly that she didn’t have her sister’s light air and feminine mannerisms. She had thought of this before, but there was no way she could change herself. I can’t be the kind of wife Prudence would be—but I can make him good food and give him comfort in his home.
Somehow that didn’t seem like much, but it was all Grace could think of, and she forced herself to smile as the two entered the kitchen with their arms full of bundles.
“It looks like thee bought the store out.” Grace smiled, helping to unload the boxes. “It took a long time.”
Prudence turned to face Grace at once, saying, “It takes time to buy things for a wedding party!”
Her sister’s sharp tone surprised Grace. “Why, of course, Prudence,” she said at once. “I wasn’t scolding.”
Clyde said quickly, “It was my fault it took so long, Grace. I was hungry, so we went to the restaurant and had some pie and coffee.”
“Was it as good as my pie?” Grace asked, trying to lighten the moment. Prudence had been so quick to offend lately.
“No one makes pies as good as thee, Grace,” Clyde said. He went outside to get the other boxes. When he returned, he smiled at Amos. “How does thee feel, sir?”
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 35