A Heart Set Free

by Janet S. Grunst

  Heather eyed the children, then Amelia. “I am not sure we should stay. We did not bring anything to share.”

  Amelia laughed. “We always have more food than we know what to do with, probably because we expect folks to stay who may not have planned on it.”

  “That is very generous.”

  After sharing dinner and fellowship with their neighbors, Amelia gathered the remnants of their meal and prepared to leave. “Would you and the children be free to join us for dinner tomorrow, Heather? Do you remember how to get to our farm?”

  “Aye, thank you. I remember where it is, and I am sure the children will be delighted. May I bring a dessert?”

  “There is not a one in our home who would say no to that. Come around two. Mary said that you are proficient at needlework, and I want your advice on a quilt I am attempting to repair.”

  Mary said that? Hmm. “By all means. I would be happy to offer any help. We will see you tomorrow.”

  The next day at the Turners’ was filled with good food and laughter. After dinner, Amelia pulled a large quilt from a cupboard. She spread it out on the cleared table. “You can see there are stains and tears that are beyond repair. My mother made it, and I cannot bear to not use it anymore.”

  Heather studied the quilt. “I think this can be easily and quickly altered so that no one would ever suspect there had been a stain or tear. Do you have some extra material that we could use to piece a fabric design onto it?”

  Amelia’s face lit up. “I never thought of doing that. I do have fabric, and in colors that would complement it.”

  “Since the tear is so close to the center and not far from the stain, I suggest you create a design right in the center of the quilt. No one would ever know it had not been part of the original arrangement.”

  “That would be perfect, Heather. Thank you for suggesting it.”

  Almost two hours later, Heather looked up from their work when the children came inside. “Oh, my. It is getting dark. We had best be getting home.”

  “I hope we can get together again soon, Heather. And it is wonderful to see Matthew happy again. He was so lonely without Elizabeth and the children. You have truly been a blessing.”

  Heather was stunned. “It is having the children home that has helped him to recover.”

  “That is only a part of it, Heather. I see the way he looks at you.”

  Heather reached for her cape and basket, hoping the warm flush on her face was not evident. “Please come over with the children sometime soon.”

  On the ride home, while the children chattered, she could think of nothing but Amelia’s parting remarks. She had not noticed any significance in the way Matthew looked at her. Might Amelia expand on her observations? That was tempting to think about. What irony to discover a friend when soon she would be leaving. Nay, it was too fine a day to dwell on that sad thought.

  Two days later, Heather woke before sunrise to the sound of wind and rain. She wrapped a shawl around herself and walked to the window. She did not think the storm would prove damaging. Going back to bed made no sense, but it was far too early for the children to be up. She lit a lantern and heated water for tea. Once the water was hot, she poured it into the teapot. Placing the lantern on the side table, she picked up her Bible and sat in the chair, curling her legs under her. The weather had grown chilly.

  In the quiet of the early dawn hours, she studied the room. In recent days, memories had surfaced, some painful, some sweet. But the past was no longer something she wanted to run away from. Rather, it was something to study and evaluate. Each problem, each heartache, was a bundle she would unwrap, examine, and dismantle, saving any fragments of value and discarding the rest. Her tears flowed onto the Bible, but they were cleansing a heart that was beginning to heal.

  She shook her head. What a wall she had erected around her heart over the months since Ross and Robert’s betrayal, all to shield herself from further hurt. Her unforgiving attitude had separated her from God. Sara was the first one who had tried to reach through that barrier. Maggie and Matthew had tried as well. Sara was right. God loved her. He understood, and extended mercy. He had been incredibly patient with her.

  Matthew had been gone almost a fortnight, though it seemed much longer. However, each day she gained more confidence in her ability to maintain the farm. The remaining crops in the garden required little care compared to the real growing season. When she went to bed each night, she thanked God they had made it through another day with the farm, livestock, and family all sound. She hoped Matthew would be pleased at finding everything under control when he returned. She opened the Bible to the Gospel of John, where she last was reading. The fourteenth chapter had been encouraging. When she reached the twenty-seventh verse, a warm sensation filled her.

  Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

  Fear—that was something she was all too familiar with: fear of disappointing others, and fear that others would betray her. What was that verse in 1 John? She searched her mind.

  There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.

  She needed to reflect on that. Seeing the dawn light come through the windows, she got up and went back to her room to dress for the day.

  She was in the kitchen an hour later when sounds came from the children’s pallet.

  Mary approached the steaming kettle where she was working. “What is that? It smells so good.”

  “I am stewing some of the apples. It is the apples and spices you smell.”

  “Makes me hungry.” Mary sat at the table, still very sleepy looking.

  Heather dished up some porridge from another pot and put a spoonful of the steamy apple mixture on top. She took it over to the table and placed it in front of Mary.

  “Thank you.”

  “Hmm. Is Mark still asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have some osnaburg left. I think we should use it to make a couple of new shirts, one for Mark and one for your father. Shall we work on it together today?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  After breakfast, she showed Mary how to set out older shirts onto the flat, heavy cloth to use as a pattern for the new shirts they would make.

  She stopped when Mark appeared. “You must be ready for breakfast.”

  “I want whatever smells so good.”

  He sat at the table and devoured the porridge and apples she placed before him.

  Mary examined the fabric. “I am ready to start.”

  “Wonderful. Now, we must allow extra for seams, and a bit more for Mark, as he is outgrowing this one.” Once the fabric was cut, she took it and showed Mary where to stitch the seams.

  While Mary worked with total concentration on Mark’s shirt, Heather stitched Matthew’s. It would be a welcome-home gift.

  Heather studied her handiwork and smiled. Her father had always taken such pride in her sewing abilities. Had he not been so ill all those years, she would probably have done more dressmaking. It was Father’s suggestion years earlier that she hire out as a dressmaker for the shop. Any plans to pursue that endeavor ended once her father took ill. Nay, her vocation became caring for him, and to a lesser degree, the shop. Since her grandfather first opened Douglas Dry Goods, it had maintained an excellent reputation for carrying a large variety of the finest fabrics and notions. Both gentry and common folk came, purchasing items from the finest velvets, woolens, and silks to common muslins, needles, and threads.

  Mary put her sewing aside. “Perhaps I will go play with Mark and Randolph for a while. I promise to finish the shirt later.”

  “Fine, I can take my work to the porch, so please stay in front where I can see you.” Heather gathered her work, went to the porch chair, and continued sewing.

  Her thoughts returned to her father. Papa had changed so much over the years. He had once been the strong and powerful head o
f their family, but with her mother’s death, his commanding presence declined, and he yielded more to Ross’ selfish desires. As Papa’s illness progressed, his reliance on those around him, especially Heather, grew. It was not long after Eileen ran off with her sailor that Papa had an attack that left him requiring constant care. The paralysis was short-lived, however, and over time, he regained his mobility, speech, and most of his memory. Eventually, he was able to get around and speak with only a slight slur, but he was forgetful and very dependent on her. And the shop demanded her attention as well.

  First her mother’s death and then her father’s illness ensnared her. She had been resentful and unhappy. Did she have to travel an ocean away to see her life clearly and admit that she, too, had made mistakes? Too often she had felt trapped. In reality, she chose to care for her father out of love as much as duty. She could have left. She might have married. She chose to stay. But, instead of giving freely, she had acted the martyr. How much happier they all would have been had she been wiser.

  The children screaming and running toward her brought her suddenly back to the present.

  Mary pointed down the lane that approached the cottage. “Heather, look, a wagon!”

  “It certainly is.” She strained to make out who was heading their way. “I believe it might be ... aye, it is the Duncans.” Her excitement matched the children’s. “They might have news of your father.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The Duncans, full of smiles and waves, came to a stop in front of the cottage. Adam helped Maggie, who held the baby, down to the ground.

  Heather embraced Maggie as the other children hopped down and raced all about with Mark and Mary. “I am so happy to see all of you.”

  “We have been anticipating it for days. This was the first time we could come. We thought all of you would be ready for some company.”

  Heather’s heart pounded. “Aye, we are. Have you any news from Matthew?”

  Maggie smiled. “Nay, but I do not imagine that he will be gone much longer.”

  “Let me offer you some refreshment. Please sit down. I will only be a moment.” Heather went to the cellar for cider while Adam saw to their horses and unloaded the supplies.

  After catching up with each other’s activities, she and Maggie prepared their meal.

  “Heather, I believe this is the happiest I have ever seen you. I hope it is not because Matthew is gone.” Maggie laughed as she rolled out the crust for the apple pie.

  “Nay, it is not that at all. I find it difficult to explain.” She wanted to be honest. After all, Maggie had been the first to suggest her joining this family might be part of God’s plan. And she had sincerely offered her friendship. “I have prayed so long for God to give me some answers, to resolve some things from my past.” She was surprised at her candor, but she longed to talk with someone and found it freeing.

  Maggie’s face was the picture of compassion.

  “I have begun to understand God’s timing in answering prayer. He was waiting for me to acknowledge my own choices, my own failings, and my attitudes. My responses to circumstances and people were faulty. I needed to forgive others ... and even myself.”

  Maggie squeezed her hand. “That is such an answer to prayer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Adam and I have prayed that whatever was causing you such distress would somehow be sorted out.” Maggie drew her to the chairs by the table, and they both sat, facing each other.

  “I am still struggling, Maggie, so please continue to pray for me.”

  “Be assured, my friend, I will be. God is gracious. I am delighted your prayers are being answered. And I am touched that you confided in me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maggie dusted the flour from her hands and gave her a hug that meant so much more than any words. “Now, shall we finish this pie?” They both smiled, returned to the worktable, and resumed their preparations.

  Heather poured the apple mixture into the pie shell. She looked out the window and spotted Adam. “Oh, bless him. He is out there splitting more wood. There is plenty. He does not need to do that.”

  Maggie placed the pie into the oven by the hearth. “He wants to help.”

  “I really believe I have done reasonably well in Matthew’s absence.”

  “Matthew, hmm.” A smile appeared on Maggie’s lips. “Aye, he will be very pleased to see how you have managed.”

  Heather turned to face her. “Are you aware that he has offered me my freedom?”

  Maggie bit her lip. “Aye, he mentioned it on this last visit.”

  “Did he tell you that he was going to Baltimore to see Caroline Taylor?”

  The confused expression on Maggie’s face was unmistakable but replaced shortly by a subtle smile. “I do believe he said something about stopping in Baltimore and, of course, calling on the widow and her father. He mentioned that you had all grown quite close while she was staying with you.”

  “Aye.” She sighed as she cut out the biscuits. “We did grow very close. Tragedy can do that.” She placed the biscuits on a rack on the hearth. “Caroline was very kind to me, a very sweet soul, and so lost without Samuel and Seth.” She stood silent. “She is very beautiful.”

  “Matthew did not comment on that.”

  “Oh.”

  “How did the children take the news of your departure?”

  “I ... I have not told them yet.” Heather walked to the window and stared at the children playing in the yard. Her head began to throb. “At first, I wanted them to get used to their father’s absence. Now, I guess I have not figured out how to tell them.”

  Maggie walked over to her and placed an arm around her. “Heather, what are you seeking that you do not have right here?”

  “It is not that simple. I am unsure of his feelings, and even my own. And my being bought, well, it is not a natural marriage.”

  “That much I had guessed.”

  “He still loves his wife, Maggie. He loves Elizabeth.” Her heart was heavy. “How could I ever fill that place in his heart?”

  “He loved Elizabeth. They had a fine marriage. But Matthew Stewart is alive, and where is he to give his love now? Excuse me for saying this, Heather, but I always figured that it was you who had someone you were carrying in your heart.”

  “There was someone, once. But no more.”

  Maggie took her hand. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it. You can trust me, Heather. I am your friend.” They sat at the table.

  Aye, she needed to share it with someone, and who was closer or would be more understanding than Maggie?

  Heather took a deep breath. “I left my home under a cloud of scandal. Almost two years ago, I met a man, a visitor to our dry goods shop. He was a barrister from Edinburgh in town to conduct some business with my brother, Ross. His name was Robert McDowell. He was tall, well spoken, and amiable. In the many times that he returned to our village over the months, he was welcomed into our home and, well, we became quite fond of one another.”

  Maggie took her hand. “Did he propose marriage?”

  “In a manner of speaking. My father was disabled and dependent on me, so Robert’s plan was to send for both of us to join him in Edinburgh. Robert said he had family business that had to be settled and financial arrangements to be resolved before we could join him.” She looked up, grateful the children and Adam were still outside and the baby slept for this time of private conversation with Maggie.

  “Maggie, I grew impatient, so I wrote him a letter. Ross offered to post it for me. I only knew Robert’s business location, but Ross had his home address and sent it there.” She looked at her hands folded in her lap. Maggie was sure to see her flushed face if she looked up.

  “Please continue, Heather. I think it is important that you share what is on your heart.”

  “I know you are right. It is just—well, around a fortnight later, when Ross and I were working in the shop, a beautiful and elegant woman I had never seen before entered. H
er hair was dark amber, her features flawless, and her clothes were of the finest quality. She introduced herself as Barbara McDowell. I will never forget her words. ‘I have come from Edinburgh, with my three children— our three children, Miss Douglas. I am Robert’s wife.’” A warm sensation rose to her cheeks. “You cannot imagine how shocked I was, Maggie. I had no idea that Robert was married, or I would never have formed a relationship with him. Believe me.”

  “Of course I believe you, Heather.” Maggie’s brow was furrowed, and her eyes glistened with tears.

  Heather continued her story. “I was stunned when Barbara McDowell produced an envelope. It was the letter I had sent to Robert. She told me that she and Robert had been married for ten years. She was not rude at all. I think she could tell I was completely unaware of Robert’s family situation.” Heather wiped a tear from her cheek. “Mrs. McDowell asked me to refrain from sending any more letters to their home, as it would prove quite awkward were they to get into the wrong hands.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Heather, I am sorry you were so badly used.”

  “Mrs. McDowell said she regretted causing me distress, and she believed me innocent, but she thought I would want to know of his ... attachments.”

  Empathy filled Maggie’s eyes as she listened to Heather’s story without a hint of judgment in her countenance. “You were innocent, Heather. Surely your family and friends would not consider your behavior scandalous.”

  “Oh, how I wish that were true. As it turned out, Ross had learned of Robert’s marriage before I did. Unbeknownst to us, Ross and Robert’s business dealings concerned Ross’ gambling debts. Robert represented the owner of a substantial note Ross had signed. When Ross found out about Robert’s marriage he, well, he used it to his advantage.” She shook her head. “Ross accused me of being taken in by Robert and bringing shame on our family. My father, already in ill health, was furious. He was so disappointed in me. Nothing I said in my defense seemed to help.”