A Heart Set Free

by Janet S. Grunst

  Matthew’s kisses were growing more ardent, his voice more tender. “Heather, I want you beside me, always.”

  Those familiar words were like a punch to her gut. Doubt, confusion, and hurt filled her. He acted surprised as she pulled herself free of him. “Nay, this is not right.”

  Matthew let her go. Why had she pushed away from him? She had returned his kiss. “I do not understand, Heather. I would not hurt you. Trust me.”

  “Trust? Trust? I cannot. I do not even trust my own judgment, and so much stands between us.”

  Was she angry? No, she sounded more fearful, but why? “Is it all men you distrust, Heather, or just me?”

  She stood and backed away. He knew that look, confused and frightened.

  “You speak of trust, Matthew Stewart, but did you trust me when you saw me being mauled by Travis Thorpe? Nay. You suspected the worst of me. Do not talk to me of trust. Please go away—and leave me alone.”

  He sat a moment longer before getting up. “You confound me, Heather. Is there nothing left to say, or hope for?”

  She turned away from him. How had it come to this?

  When he reached the door, he turned. “Heather, if I have hurt you, I am sorry.”

  He had gotten his answer. It was not what he had hoped for, but he would remedy the situation, and he would need to do it soon.

  CHAPTER 21

  The early morning sun was shining by the time Heather awoke. Once again, a restless night had caused her to sleep too late. It was hard to focus on objects in the room. She struggled out of bed and into her clothes, her head throbbing. Hours of tears and nervous pacing had taken a toll on her stomach also. When she opened the bedroom door, she saw Mary and Mark playing quietly by the hearth.

  “Good morning, children.” The smile she gave each of them belied her true feelings. She walked to the window and glanced all about. Where was Matthew? The children—she needed to see to them. “I am sorry to be so late getting up. Have you eaten yet?” Her shaky voice was sure to make them wonder about her well-being.

  “Yes, Papa gave us our breakfast.”

  “Oh.” She peered through the other window, wondering where he was.

  When she finally sat down with a cup of tea, Mary approached her, carrying her doll. “Are we going to make the candles today?”

  “Well, I think we should wait for a cooler day.” She would also prefer one when she was more rested and without a headache.

  “Your eyes are all red and puffy. Have you been crying? My eyes get puffy when I cry.” Mary cocked her head in an inquisitive, innocent way.

  “I did not sleep very well, and I am feeling poorly this morning.”

  “Well, what are we going to do today? Since it is so warm, may we go to the river today rather than the pond?”

  “Aye, Mary, perhaps a bit later, after our lessons.” Her voice lacked its usual enthusiasm. All she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and be alone.

  Later, despite her fatigue and headache, she acquiesced and accompanied the children to the river. It drained her of what little energy remained. Perhaps, now that the children were occupied playing on the riverbank, they would leave her in peace. She rubbed the knot that had formed in the back of her neck and paced back and forth while observing the children at play.

  Why did Matthew come to her room? He said that talking and getting everything out into the open would help. It had not. Why was he so curious about her past? How would he regard her if he learned about it? She sat down under a tree and tried to relax as she gazed up at the cloudless sky. Was Matthew growing to truly care for her? Nay, that business with Thorpe demonstrated that he did not trust her. He was lonely, and he missed his wife and the love they had shared. She had no desire to be a substitute for an absent wife—not in that way.

  I am so confused, Lord. Why do I find fault with him, when it is my own choices and those of others that have brought on my difficulties? She picked up a pebble and pitched it into the shallows. How could she still be in love with one man and want another? Lord, I do not want to be hurt again. Please help me.

  Mary approached the tree she was leaning against. “Heather, come here. Mark has found a baby rabbit.” Mary’s eyes were wide, and she was very excited. “May we keep it? We can take it home, and we will care for it. It would not be any trouble. It will be our pet.”

  “Oh, Mary, I am not sure. It is a wild animal and should be with its own kind. It may have a mother who is searching for it.”

  “There were no other rabbits around it. Please? It might be lost and need us to take care of it.”

  Heather smiled. The girl had a remarkable talent for persuasion. Her temple throbbed. She was in no mood for arguments and had even less energy to deal with the child’s disappointment that would likely follow if she refused the request. “Try to understand, lass. The rabbit would hate being a prisoner, not being able to live like other rabbits. If you truly care about the wee creature, set it free.”

  Mary was not going to give up easily. “But if I loved the rabbit, fed it, and gave it a home, it would want to stay with us. It would not be a prisoner. It would be the rabbit’s choice to stay if it was happy.”

  The child reasoned like her father. Heather leaned her head against the tree. “Well, you do make a good point, lass. We shall have to see what the wee rabbit chooses, after we make sure it is permissible with your father.”

  Matthew entered the cottage later as she ladled a thick soup into bowls. She rubbed the nape of her neck as she faced him for the first time since their parting last night. She suspected he, too, had not slept well, for there were dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he was angry with her. She set the bowl down in front of him. Once more, the children’s chatter masked their silence and tension.

  “Papa, I found a little rabbit.” Mark grinned as he took a seat beside his father. “We want to keep him.”

  “Oh yes, Papa, we will feed and take care of him, and he shall be no trouble at all.” The plea in Mary’s voice matched the one on her face as she sat down at the table.

  Fatigue and sadness showed on Matthew’s face as he watched his children. He looked at Heather. “What did you tell them about the rabbit?”

  “I admit at first I did not think it wise for them to keep the wee animal confined, but Mary assured me that she would let it go if it chose to leave. I told them to ask you.”

  He watched her intently, and her heart began to race as she recalled the events of the previous evening.

  His eyes continued to hold hers captive until heat rose to her face. She turned to Mary and saw the children glancing back and forth between them, obviously waiting and wondering about the future of their pet.

  Mary smiled at her father. “I promise he will not be any trouble, Papa.”

  Finally, Matthew leaned back in his chair and his austere expression relaxed. “I agree with Heather. You may keep the pet as long as it causes no problems and wants to stay. But, I caution you both. Be wary of growing too fond of the little creature, for it may seek its freedom.” He glanced her way.

  She turned away from him. Was Matthew intentionally trying to hurt her? Her father’s words when she turned down a suitor burned in her ears: “No man appreciates being rebuffed, Heather.”

  “Oh, thank you, Papa.” Both children hugged their father and ran off to fetch their newfound friend from the barrel where they had left him.

  Later that night, exhausted and grateful to get the children tucked into their bed, she was about to go into her room when Matthew stopped her. “I would like a few words with you, on the porch.”

  Reluctantly, she followed him out and sat in the oak chair, too tired for any more confrontations.

  “Heather.” He sat on the porch step and turned to face her. “In a few days, I shall be finished planting the barley and rye. After that, I am leaving for a few weeks. I have some business to take care of in Philadelphia.”

  “Oh, I see.” She was stunned, completely unprepared for hi
s declaration. “This is so—the children—shall miss you ... miss you terribly.”

  “This is the right time for the trip. If I wait much longer, the weather might be bad. It will only be for a few weeks. I will purchase provisions while I am in Alexandria, and the Duncans will bring them when they come for a visit. George will check on you and be available if you need him.”

  “I see.” She did not want to let her disappointment show.

  “I will also pass through Baltimore and probably see Caroline and her father. If you wish me to take a letter or message, I will be happy to deliver it to her.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to imagine the farm without him.

  “Oh, and Heather.” He got up to leave. “When I return, you shall have your freedom. A solicitor shall draw up the proper and necessary papers. It should not be difficult to secure an annulment, as we both can attest that the marriage never truly existed.”

  The words stung. As unexpected as his announcement was that he would be gone a few weeks, this came as a bigger blow. But why? Was this not what she wanted?

  “What—what about the children? Who will care for them?”

  “I am taking care of that. You need not concern yourself. You shall be a free woman, Heather. It is what we both desire.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Over the next few days, Matthew was scarcely around the house. Now that the fall planting was completed, he set about repairing tools, loose shutters, and broken fences. Keeping busy was best, and physical activity helped to keep the frustration and disappointment at bay. There had been little opportunity, or inclination, for the two of them to talk. What was there to say? He had tried every way he knew to reach her, to no avail. Perhaps being apart would help give them some perspective and resolution.

  He heard the rustling of hay. Someone had entered the barn. “I am over here at Honey’s stall.”

  “Hi Papa, I was looking for you.” Mary’s plaintive voice touched his heart. Holding her doll, she climbed up on a bale of hay. “Are you still going in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  Mark was holding the rabbit when he joined her on the bale. “When will you be back?”

  “I told you, it will only be a few weeks, as long as it takes to complete my business. Then I shall return.”

  “We will miss you, Papa.” The sadness in Mary’s voice was unmistakable.

  Tears ran down Mark’s cheeks.

  “Believe me; I shall miss the two of you also. Now, go out and play with that rabbit of yours for a while. It is almost time for bed.”

  “His name is Randolph, Papa.” Mary put her free hand on her hip but managed a smile before she and Mark departed.

  When the children were finally in bed and quiet, he stood by the chair near the hearth and packed the items he had set aside for his journey. Heather stood just outside the bedroom door, folding laundry and occasionally glancing at him.

  “I have decided to take Caroline’s horse and leave Honey here with you. She would be a bit easier for you to handle. And again, George said he would stop by and see how you are faring. If there are any problems, do not hesitate to ask him for help.”

  “Aye, sir. Thank you.” She stopped folding and took a deep breath. She walked toward him, her voice low. “I wanted to ask you. Do the children know anything about my leaving when you return?”

  He stopped loading his sack and caught her eye a moment before he resumed packing. “I considered telling them, preparing them.” He turned back to her. His eyes held hers. “I think you should be the one to tell them. And how much ... or how little you say, I leave to your judgment. You cannot help but be aware that in these last several months, they have become very fond of you. I am sure you will be sensitive to their feelings and reactions.” He glanced down at her but remained silent. What was she thinking? Did she have any regrets? “You said you had a letter ready for Caroline.”

  “Aye.” She went to her room and returned with a folded piece of parchment. He stood by the table where he had put his knapsack. Her hand was shaking as she held it out to him. Taking this journey brought him no joy. It was not what he wanted, but it would secure the future she wanted.

  “Well, we had best retire now. I have an early start in the morning.” He gazed intently into her face. Heather’s lips were parted as if she wanted to say something, and her eyes looked as sad as he felt. If only she would offer him any encouragement or reason to hope. She bit her lip, turned, and went into the room. Shaking his head, he headed to the ladder and loft.

  Two days later, Heather sighed, still downcast, when the children came to the table for breakfast. It was time to end this melancholy atmosphere. “We will spend a half hour on lessons, and then we need to make candles, so I am delegating the tasks.”

  Both heads looked up expectantly from their bowls of porridge.

  “Mary, your job will be to straighten the candle wicks hanging over the candle rods. Mark, you can hold one end of the candle rod while I hold the other.”

  Mary pushed her bowl away. “When will we start our lessons?”

  She moved the bowl back in front of the child. “As soon as you both finish your breakfast.”

  An hour later, their moods had improved dramatically.

  Heather dipped six of the wicks into the large iron pot on the trivet on the hearth. “After we dip it straight down into the tallow, we carry the candle rod very carefully over to where Mary is standing and hang them to cool. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mark was completely focused on the job at hand.

  “Good. We will have to dip the wicks several times, cooling them between each dipping so they will be the right size.”

  Mary counted all the wicks hanging from the candle rods. “There are so many, this will take most of the day.”

  “It will take a good portion of it, but if we finish early enough, perhaps we can go down to the river for a picnic. Would that please you?”

  “Yes.” Mary smiled and nodded at Mark.

  As anticipated, it was late afternoon before the messy, but necessary, chore was completed. They gathered the picnic supplies and headed to the riverbank. Matthew had assigned her a difficult task, telling the children of her departure. Well, there was no hurry; she could put that job off a while. It made no sense bringing that up now while they were still trying to get used to their father’s absence. She would pray about the best way and time to tell them. For now, her priority was to settle in her own mind what she would do with her eventual freedom. Where should she go? And what would she do?

  As they approached the river, the children squealed with delight. This part of the Potomack was not very wide. The lack of rain had reduced the flow significantly. Random boulders along the edge appeared larger now. Both sides of the river were lined with trees and shrubs and an occasional sandy beach. She had been amazed when Matthew told her the river was hundreds of miles long.

  The children brought small gourd boats to sail in the shallows of the river. They would use long branches to keep the vessels from sailing too far from the bank.

  Lord, give me the wisdom to understand what Your will is for my life. Please guide my steps through the choices I face. Help me to trust You and act in accordance with Your will.

  The children’s laughter was a welcome distraction. “Not too close to the edge, Mark.” She watched the small boy flirt continuously with falling into the river. The sandy beach extended to a rocky shoreline. Still, it would prove dangerous if they fell into the deeper water. “Let the gourds sail away and watch where they go. We can always make new boats.”

  Sitting beneath a nearby tree, the tension melted for the first time since Matthew left. It was peaceful to simply sit and enjoy what was left of the day. The children, cheerful once again, affected her mood greatly. How easily they recovered from disappointment. Two days ago, one would have believed the world was going to end when he left. But here they were as if nothing had changed. How she would have loved to share their gleeful spi
rit and not regret his absence so much. It was unsettling to admit that. Matthew was good company. She glanced to where Mary and Mark played and reached for a piece of the bread they had brought with them as a snack. Matthew was a caring and kind father, good-natured and not one to yell or become moody or irritable, and he did so much around the farm to keep it running well. Now, for a time, it would be her sole responsibility. What a frightening and exhausting notion.

  She shifted under the tree, unable to attain the sought-for peace. She got up and began pacing. What was the matter with her? It was not the extra set of hands to help her with the work she missed. It was him.

  That admission made her vulnerable, a sensation she loathed. It had been difficult to say good-bye the morning he left. She managed to hold back the tears until after the children had retired for the night. There was nothing to say to set things right.

  Matthew had been unreasonable and unfair. It was unconscionable that he believed she would have conspired with Thorpe. He had misjudged her and had never even given her a chance to tell him what really happened. She picked up a stone and threw it at a nearby tree. She would be better off taking on the chores back at the cottage—too much time alone to think only caused her more anguish. A tear ran down her cheek. Had she intentionally kept Robert as a barrier to protect herself from being hurt again? Had Elizabeth also been a convenient shield she had erected to protect her heart?

  “Come see the goslings.” Mary’s waving arms and excited voice interrupted her troubled reverie. “Come closer to the river.”