Into His Arms

by Paula Reed

  Naomi’s hand rested lightly upon her husband’s rigid shoulder. “This is very sudden, and I think Faith hoped to accept Aaron. Will you not give us time to accustom her to the idea?”

  “You spoil the girl as I will not. Be that as it may, she is yet your concern. Do as you think best, but tell her soon. I bid you good day.”

  Chapter 2

  The reverend turned abruptly toward the door, and Faith fled to the side of the house, not a moment too soon. She leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath, listening to the minister’s horse as it methodically plodded back to the main road. When Williams’s form disappeared down the path, she returned to the front of the house, halting when she saw her father waiting at the door.

  “Did you see your brothers’ handiwork?” he asked.

  It was a sin to lie. Faith wrapped her arms about her waist and said, “Nay. I watched at the window.”

  Jonathan’s face looked grim. “I told you to go to the joinery.”

  “I didn’t want to disobey. You suggested that I go there, but the Reverend Williams and I had spoken before you came, and I did wonder what he sought. It seemed to concern me.”

  Not missing his daughter’s pale and anxious face, Jonathan said, “Come in, child. We must speak on this.”

  Faith followed her father back into the softly lit interior of the house, where her mother waited by the fire. She idly basted the hen in the pot, but a worried frown creased her brow. Faith’s hands had gone cold, and she trembled, but she assured herself that her parents would look to her welfare.

  “She heard,” Jonathan told his wife.

  “I see.” Faith’s mother gave her a cross look for her transgression, but compassion softened it before she could entirely shame the girl.

  “I listened at the window.” At her parents’ stern faces, Faith dropped her gaze. “I meant no harm, but clearly his business concerned me.”

  Jonathan took a deep breath and a long look at his daughter. “Have you any notion why he might think ill of you?”

  “Nay, Father! I cannot think how he came to believe me anything other than a dutiful Christian.”

  “It may well be that she is not at fault for his opinion of her,” Naomi said to her husband. She cast an anxious look and Faith and then back to Jonathan. “He seemed to rather dwell upon her tempting honest men.”

  “Aye, I caught that, as well,” Jonathan replied. “But he is a man of God.”

  “Of course,” Naomi agreed. Then she added, somewhat hesitantly, “Still, there is something about him that does not sit well with me.”

  Jonathan nodded grimly.

  It took all of Faith’s self-restraint not to tear her hair out at their exchange. “So we defer to him in matters of our very souls, even though he inspires no confidence?” she asked.

  “This problem is not so simple, Faith,” Jonathan said. “We survive in this harsh land by God’s grace alone. We must think well on it ere we challenge the authority of the church. You are young yet. In time, you will understand.”

  Once, it had seemed to Faith that her father had an answer for her every question. Now, quite the opposite of his sentiment, it seemed that circumstances had been much simpler when she was young. It was age and experience that complicated things.

  Naomi shook her head sadly. “We have been fortunate, here Jonathan. We have ever had upright leadership. It is understandable that this bewilders Faith.”

  Faith turned her hopeful gaze to her mother. “Then you understand?”

  “Aye, child, I do. But your father is right. All of us have sacrificed much to build this colony, based firmly upon God’s law. We cannot weaken it from within by defying our own government.”

  She took a deep breath and offered Faith a weakly apologetic smile. “It is an honor to be asked to stand at the side of the man who leads our church and our village. Reverend Williams is new here, and mayhap we are, as yet, unused to his zealousness. And it may be that he will soften to you, once he gets to know you.”

  “Nay, mother, you cannot mean this!”

  An angry hiss escaped through Jonathan’s teeth. “You will not speak that way to your mother! This defiance is most unlike you.”

  Faith closed her eyes and forced her features to relax. She had learned long ago to smother her anger, swallow any argument. In her mind she beseeched God for patience.

  “Forgive me, Father. I am distraught.”

  Jonathan sighed and sank onto the bench, next to the open Bible. “Perhaps your mother and I should discuss this first.”

  Faith folded her hands serenely so that only an astute observer would notice that her knuckles were white or that her jaw was tense from gritting her teeth.

  Naomi sat in one of the straight-backed chairs and spoke with her accustomed candor. “Nay, let her sit with us. She must understand the whole of the situation. Faith, I think the minister is set in this course.”

  “Aye,” Jonathan concurred, although he scowled. “And there are those who will support him. We know well that three of the men she has refused are bitter, and George Mayfield and Roger Smith have considerable influence.”

  “And of course,” Naomi added, “there’s always the governor.”

  Jonathan gave his wife a skeptical look. “Surely you do not think that the governor will trouble himself over our daughter’s marriage. We are not such important people, Naomi.”

  Leaning forward, she replied, “If it is put to him as a matter of Owen Williams’s authority being placed into question, do you really believe he will not defend his friend?”

  “Then you truly believe Williams will win her sooner or later?” Jonathan asked.

  She leaned back again, a look of defeat in her eyes. “I believe so, and I think it is in Faith’s best interest that we anger him not in the course of this thing. It would not go well for her. We must look to God here.”

  The tears that had stung Faith’s eyes could be denied no longer. She knew that she must plead or rage, and that anger had never moved her parents. Whatever the cost, she had to change their minds. “Please, I beg of you, do not marry me to a man who thinks so ill of me. I will marry Goodman Smith or Mayfield if it will soothe them and gain us their friendship.”

  Jonathan rubbed his hand across his eyes. The slight slump in his shoulders and his steadfast refusal to look into her eyes spoke all that was in his troubled mind. “We may yet soften his heart. Your mother is right, once he comes to know you…” but he let the sentence drift away, unfinished.

  Naomi rose to look out the window. Her eyes scanned the forest beyond, as though she sought something far in the distance. “There is, perhaps, another way.”

  Hope lit Faith’s anguished face. “Anything, Mother!”

  “It is not your consent that concerns me.” Naomi turned to Jonathan. “We can send her to my sister.”

  He bolted from his seat and thundered, “Out of the question!”

  “For Faith’s sake, can you not release your harsh judgement of Elizabeth?”

  “No one wants Faith’s happiness more than I, but we are talking of her immortal soul!”

  “She is strong in her beliefs, and Elizabeth is still a Christian, after all.”

  “A Christian? She’s a Catholic, Naomi!”

  Faith barely registered anything beyond her mother’s first statement. Her mother’s sister? In all of Faith’s life, her mother had never spoken of a sister. Her grandmother, God keep her immortal soul, had spoken of two miscarriages and a young son lost on the journey from England to the Caribbean island of Cigatoo. They had tried to settle the island with others of their faith, but it had been impossible to farm, and they had come here, to New England. By then, her mother had already married another of the island’s settlers, Jonathan. No one had spoken of any other family members. In a daze, she took her mother’s place in the chair by the fire.

  “They are Anglican, now,” Naomi said.

  “What?”

  “Jamaica is English, now, Jonat
han. They were allowed to stay because Elizabeth is English, but her husband, Miguel, had to convert.”

  “So it is that easy for Elizabeth, is it? Be set firmly upon the path of righteousness, but convert to Catholicism for the sake of a mere man, and when the political winds blow another direction, convert again.” He began to pace in agitation before adding, “And how do you know all of this?”

  “I wrote her,” she said, and her voice dared him to challenge her. “Sixteen years ago, when the Spanish were defeated and Jamaica fell to the English. I wanted to know if she was well. I received her reply a year-and-a-half later. We have not written since, but I believe my daughter would be welcome at Winston Hall.”

  “Jamaica?” Faith’s timid inquiry brought her parents’ attention back to her. “You have a sister in Jamaica?”

  Naomi smiled and moved back to the fireside near her daughter. “Her name is Elizabeth, and her husband is Miguel Fernandez.”

  Jonathan interrupted. “When it became clear that our tobacco farms would never be successful on Cigatoo, we stayed in the Caribbean until we could find passage to New England.” He paused, crossing his arms. Disgust marked his austere features. “While we were there, Elizabeth took up with a Spaniard who owned a sugar plantation on the island of Jamaica.”

  Taking a step toward him, Naomi replied. “Oh, Jonathan, you make it sound so sordid. She fell in love with him. She married him. She did not ‘take up’ with him.”

  His face did not soften. “She became a Catholic.”

  “His church would not marry them otherwise.”

  “And what is his faith to him that he could cast it aside when the island changed hands?”

  “Wait!” Faith cried. “Scripture tells us that we must judge not, lest we be judged. Perhaps it is not our place to condemn—my aunt.” How strange that sounded to her, an aunt!

  “Nay, Faith, you are grasping at straws. I will not send my daughter half the world away to be cared for by an idolatress!”

  Naomi interrupted. “It is as I told you, she is Anglican.”

  “Fine, then a woman who mistakes a political faction for a religion!”

  Faith barely heard her father’s objections as her whole mind wrapped itself around this one hope. “Mother, do you really think she would have me?” To ease her father’s worries she added, “Perhaps I could find a suitable husband there. There are still Puritans in the Caribbean.”

  “Enough! I am the master of this house, and I forbid it! When we left the Caribbean we agreed that Elizabeth’s name would ne’er be spoken in this new land. Naomi, it was foolish of you to have broken that silence. We will put an end to this discussion right now. God willing, the morning will put a fresh face on this matter. For now, let it rest!” Silence followed her father’s outburst, and after a pointed look at the two women, he stormed out the door in the direction of the joinery.

  Naomi went to the kitchen to quietly cut onions for the stew pot while Faith punched down her bread dough with more force than usual. She divided it and placed each portion in its own pan.

  “Perhaps I should not have offered false hope,” her mother said at last.

  In a small voice, through a tight throat, Faith whispered, “Will you speak with him tonight?”

  Naomi sighed. “Aye, I’ll speak with him.”

  Afternoon faded into evening, and the males of the Cooper family left the joinery. Seven-year-old David and twelve-year-old Isaiah, both towheads, playfully splashed each other at the pump outside as they washed away the day’s sweat and sawdust. Naomi clapped her hands and firmly reminded them that the spring evening was too chill for such play. They traipsed in noisily behind Faith’s twin brother, Noah. With a happy grin, Noah accepted a small pail of stew and half a loaf of bread to take home to his wife, who was heavy with their first child. His hands full, he shook a stray lock of blond hair from his face.

  “I thought I’d deliver that sideboard tomorrow, father, if you can spare me from the joinery.”

  Faith’s spirits lifted. “Are you bound for Boston, then? May I go with you?” Boston was always exciting, and it would be a pleasant diversion from her woes.

  “I’d welcome the company,” he replied. “The hours get long when I’m riding alone.”

  “Aye, that’s a fine idea,” Jonathan agreed. He exchanged a quick glance with his wife that said they had much to discuss while Faith was gone.

  Noah left, taking his mother’s food and his sister’s promise to be ready to go early the next day. At dinner, David and Isaiah were subdued. The tension between their sister and parents was palpable, and in a home where discord was most uncommon, it dampened their usual boisterous natures. The meal was a quiet one, punctuated by the clatter of dishes and the occasional strained cough.

  That night, Faith blew out the candle next to her bed and stared up at the pitch-black ceiling. “Dear God,” she prayed in a fervent whisper, “grant me deliverance, some means of escaping this terrible fate. I beg you, I will try harder, do anything! Please, show me the way!”

  *

  In the keeping room, Naomi knelt by the waning fire, glad that her husband and children had gone upstairs and that she had a few moments to herself. Like her daughter in the room above her, she spoke her heart in her prayers.

  “Dear Father in Heaven, for many years now my church and my family have been blessings beyond measure. I am deeply and profoundly grateful. But now, my two greatest blessings are entirely at odds. We need Your guidance! I sacrificed my sister for You, once. I beg of You, Holy Father, do not take my daughter as well.”

  Knowing that God saw into her heart, she made no attempt to stop her tears. “Faith has been foundering for a while, I have sensed it. And yet, she seeks only to please us and to obey You. This test is too much, and I fear that we will lose her! In the darkest moments, I fear that You will lose her, as well. It is not merely her comfort I look to. It is her soul.

  “And Jonathan’s, too,” she whispered, uncertainly. “I have never seen him so torn. How can he choose between You and his child’s happiness?

  “I know it is not my will that must be done, but Thy will. I have no doubt that you have a plan for my girl, just as you did for me. But I cannot hide from You my dearest hope that Owen Williams is not a part of it, that you will send her another, even as you sent me my Jonathan. But if he is—if she must endure this trial—help her to keep her faith. Hold her, keep her, protect her in Your love. Amen.”

  Chapter 3

  Rambling buildings of brick and wood surrounded Boston Harbor, a veritable forest of masts and tightly furled sails. The timbers stood tall against the pale gray sky and deep greenish gray of the ocean. Mammoth ships rocked and creaked in the lapping waves. The smell of salty sea air mingled with fish, though occasionally a faint hint of spices would waft through, a ribbon of tangy sweetness amid the earthier scents.

  Faith loved coming to town and the port, where the wide world beyond their little village was displayed in wares brought by the ships and the men who sailed them. People came and went around her in the chilly spring air, and it was easy to believe Noah when he told her that Boston had nearly two thousand people living in it!

  She was always careful to keep her eyes modestly downcast, but she walked among them listening to their foreign tongues. Sea captains and other men of importance wore elegant coats and frothy lace, far more adornment than the sumptuary regulations of most Puritan villages permitted. Faith dreamed of England, where everyone was so refined. The ships now in Boston Harbor would carry timber, sugar, and all manner of products from the New World up the Thames to London. She tried to envision that faraway city, one that she knew dwarfed the port she currently explored. Mayhap some of those things would find their way to the king. It seemed to her that London was exactly the opposite of her village. It was a city full of changes and chances...and choices.

  For a bare moment, she allowed herself to imagine such a life. She would open her wardrobe and ask herself, “Shall I wear this
pink gown today or perhaps this lovely yellow one?” She would walk among the shops and dare to choose some exotic scent from the Far East to dab behind each ear. And gentlemen would court her. She would choose a man she could love, not merely accept a man who was suitable. A dark cloud smothered her lovely fantasy. It seemed that she was not to be allowed any choice at all in her husband.

  Noah brought with him a beautifully wrought sideboard that had been commissioned by a shipmaster’s wife, and while Faith strolled through the market outside of the Boston Town House, he delivered the piece. She had promised her mother that she would pick up sugar and salt, but as she made her way through the crowd, she found herself distracted by a bolt of peacock blue silk. Glancing guiltily to either side, she reached out to finger the luxurious fabric.

  *

  It was just at that moment that Captain Geoffrey Hampton spied the pretty little Puritan maid who wistfully caressed his merchandise. He tucked his hat beneath his claret velvet-clad arm, revealing a head of thick, light brown hair.

  What a shame, he thought. He knew women well enough to know they had a weakness for lovely things, and here this one was, primly ensconced in a plain russet wool skirt and bodice and modest linen collar.

  “Captain Hampton?”

  The seaman tore his eyes from the girl to look impatiently at the merchant he had been trading with. “Aye, forgive me,” Geoff replied. “I lost my concentration for a moment.”

  The merchant wore somber clothes and a wide collar proclaimed him a member of the same religious sect as the woman. Shaking his head, he looked at her. “Aye, I see what you mean. I cannot fathom what her family is thinking to allow her on the docks unescorted. You there!” he called to her. “I doubt me that is on your shopping list!”