On the opposite side of the church, another young man kept peering across the aisle at the young woman. Carlton Damon. His father owned the hat factory, and a few of the deacons had impressed upon Will that this was a family he should do everything in his power to keep happy. Carlton Damon had squired a different girl into the church, but he was paying her little attention now as he stared at the woman beside Ruth Harmon.
Adria Starr—yes, that was the name Mrs. Gregory had told him for the young woman—didn’t appear to notice Damon. She was looking toward the rear of the church where the black servants of some of the members were assembled. Ruth Harmon put her hand on Adria’s arm, and the girl turned back toward the front, but she did appear very agitated as she shifted in the pew. He must give her a chance to talk with him after the service to see if she wanted to share her troubling thoughts.
She was an orphan. Mrs. Gregory had told him that. The elderly woman sat in the second pew, looking calm, almost beatific as she watched him. She had sent a note around to him the day before, almost demanding he come visit. Will knew better than to ignore such a summons. He needed the support of the likes of Leoda Gregory if he was going to succeed as pastor here.
Mrs. Gregory had been a wealth of information about the church members. She had much to say about Ruth Harmon and her adopted daughter, Adria Starr. More times than necessary, many more times, she had stressed that she and Mrs. Harmon were both widowed. But while Mrs. Gregory was happy in her widowhood, she suggested Mrs. Harmon surely wasn’t, even though it had been years since Mrs. Harmon’s husband had succumbed in the cholera epidemic of 1833.
That was when Miss Starr had lost her family too. Mrs. Gregory had clucked her tongue and noted what a tragedy that was.
“I do believe it affected the child. That and, I suppose, growing up in a house without a father figure in residence.” Mrs. Gregory had dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “But the girl seems to be harboring all sorts of ill-conceived ideas about what a woman should or shouldn’t do. She needs to settle down and marry that nice Carlton Damon.”
Her words echoing in his head reminded him of the connection between young Damon and Miss Starr. He had not encouraged Mrs. Gregory to continue with her gossip about the two women, but he might as well have tried to stop the nearby Salt River from flowing. As she continued to extol Mrs. Harmon’s Christian kindness in taking in the girl and how capable she was as a teacher, it occurred to Will the old lady might be doing a bit of matchmaking. It was little wonder Mrs. Harmon had been so uneasy when she’d brought him the pie.
He thought back on their encounter. She’d given no sign she was trying to endear herself to him. She had merely welcomed her new pastor by baking him a pie. He knew the signs of flirtation, since several women in his last church seemed all too ready to be a pastor’s wife. He could tell them it was not always an easy position. Mary had done it well, but she had been called to the position the same as he. Even more reason to question why the Lord stole her away too soon.
He repressed a sigh as finally Mr. Manderly allowed the organ to wheeze to silence. He waited until the man stood and then settled on the front pew. With a silent prayer that the Lord would give him words with power, he opened his Bible and began to read from Matthew 28.
Fifteen
We have to do something. I have to do something,” Adria had whispered as she slid into the pew beside Ruth at the beginning of the service. “Mr. Sanderson died.”
They had heard about George Sanderson’s death when they arrived at church. Ruth wished the news had been kept in the dark until after the church service. It hardly seemed fair to the new preacher for the members to be so distracted by a death that actually had little to do with their church. Mr. Sanderson was Catholic. He may have passed over the threshold of this church from time to time, but his death would in no way affect Mount Moriah Church except for his slaves that he allowed to attend services here if they so desired. That included Louis.
Of course, Louis was why Adria was in such a state of agitation. She loved him like a family member. Adria hated that Louis was a slave. She hated all slavery and would have led every Springfield slave out of town and to freedom across the Ohio River if she could. But she couldn’t. That was what Adria didn’t want to believe. Right or wrong, slavery was entrenched in the South, and Springfield was part of it.
“Shh,” Ruth whispered. “We can talk about it after the service.”
They had talked about it already. The night before. Bet had told Adria that if Mr. Sanderson died, they were all to be sold. All. It didn’t matter about years of faithful service. They were no more than property. Valuable property. A skilled slave like Louis in the prime of his life would bring hundreds of dollars.
Ruth’s heart constricted at the thought of Louis being put on an auction block, or Bet either. The very idea of such commerce in human beings was a blight on their land. Yet, good people, people who were sitting in pews under this same church roof as she, saw no wrong in the institution of slavery. Others, like Ruth, pushed thoughts about slavery aside as something that had always been and that they could do nothing to change.
Adria was not so passive. Ruth could feel her tension and worried she might rise up out of the pew and to start preaching before the new pastor could begin his sermon. The girl was so troubled, she hadn’t even noticed when Logan Farrell came into the church and took a seat in the pew directly behind her. Ruth had not been so unobservant.
The man was evidently determined to court Adria’s favor. His confrontation with Carlton Damon had been the talk of the town yesterday afternoon, although Adria had waved her hand and dismissed it as nothing when Ruth asked her about it.
Obviously, Carlton did not agree, as he had come into the church with Janie Smith clinging to his arm. Now he was continually staring over at Adria. If he had hoped to inspire her jealousy, he had picked a bad morning for it. Adria could think of nothing but George Sanderson’s unfortunate slaves.
Louis was not at church. Nor was Bet, who generally came with him. The black members of the church sat on the back rows. Free to worship as long as they remembered their place. But wasn’t the same also true of women, black or white, who were expected to keep their silence in church?
Ruth said a quick prayer Adria would abide by that rule this day. She certainly didn’t wish for the girl to be unchurched, her membership revoked. For if such happened, Ruth could do no different than stand with Adria, whatever the cost. But it was a cost she preferred not to have to pay.
She could feel the girl practically trembling beside her. Perhaps they should claim illness and depart. But instead Ruth laid a steadying hand on Adria’s arm. “Pray.”
The word was barely a whisper. One Ruth wasn’t sure was meant for Adria or herself, but Adria bent her head and became very still. Ruth’s prayer answered. Pray God, that he would answer Adria’s prayer for Louis as well. But how, Ruth couldn’t imagine. Nevertheless, she could add her prayer to Adria’s. The Lord attended to the prayer of the faithful.
And who had been more faithful in his Christian walk than Louis? Taking care of the whole town of Springfield while all who were able fled the cholera. Digging grave after grave. Her Peter’s grave. Adria’s family’s grave. Nursing the sick with the help of Matilda. Taking care of Adria when the child had no one. Bringing the child to Ruth. Together she and Adria had weathered many storms, but a formidable storm like the one threatening to engulf them now needed divine intervention.
Show us a way, dear Lord.
The prayer slipped through her thoughts as the pastor began to read from his Scripture.
“‘And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.’” The preacher made the words of the Bible resound in the church. His voice was strong and deep.
He continued to read, but Ruth stopped listening and dwelt on the words of that one verse. All power. She wanted to lean over to Adria and whisper those words to her. All power. The Lord wou
ld help them find a way.
But it was not good to whisper while the preacher was delivering his sermon. Pastor Robertson looked much more presentable today than he had the day she’d taken him the pie. That day his hair had been standing on end, and his eyes had looked anything but calm. She had caught him at a bad time, but now he looked the part of a preacher. Brown hair combed neatly back from his forehead. Expression serene as he read from the Bible and then began his sermon. He didn’t pound the pulpit as the previous preacher had been fond of doing to emphasize his words. Pastor Robertson spoke the words as though receiving them straight from the Lord to hand out to the people the way one might a plate of nourishing food. Here, this is what you need.
Ruth was caught up by his voice, her spirit touched. He appeared to hunger for the words as much as his listeners did.
She knew he had lost his wife to childbirth fever a couple of years prior and had not yet remarried. Mrs. Gregory had made sure to tell her so. Not that Ruth was the least concerned with his marital state. She was not looking for a husband. But Adria’s words about how she should have remarried had tickled awake something inside Ruth. She wasn’t too old to bear a child. If she were married.
Right on cue, a baby whimpered behind her. Probably the new Johnson baby, only two months old. Mrs. Johnson was several years older than Ruth, and she held a new baby, her tenth.
Did Ruth still desire to hold her own baby in her arms? That was such a long-ago dream. One she shared with a man she loved. She had no such man in her life now and wasn’t looking for one, in spite of Mrs. Gregory’s matchmaking efforts.
Pushing those thoughts away, Ruth fastened her eyes on the preacher and concentrated on his words, not on his looks. But even though she was in church, she did notice him as more than a preacher in the pulpit. Something about the sad look she remembered in his eyes when she took him the pie made her want to know more about him. Not just as her new preacher, but as a man. That uncomfortable feeling had her shifting in the pew, as uneasy as Adria beside her.
After the services, Logan Farrell stepped in front of Adria and Ruth before they could make their way up the aisle to the door. Ruth had to step in with polite remarks since Adria was too distracted by her worries to converse properly.
“So nice to see you here at Mount Moriah this morning, Mr. Farrell,” Ruth said, even though his motives for being there were suspect. She had no desire to see Adria interested in Logan. He was not steady and dependable the way Carlton was, although Carlton wasn’t exactly demonstrating maturity this day, showing up with Janie Smith on his arm and then watching Adria all morning. Sometimes young people could be so foolish.
“My mother always said a man couldn’t go wrong by starting out his week in church.” Logan flashed his smile that had surely made many girls’ hearts flutter.
Adria hardly noticed. She did give him a weak smile before she looked past him to the door. “It’s good to see you, but we really need to be going.” She put her hand under Ruth’s elbow to encourage her to keep moving past people.
Ruth almost smiled at the look on Logan’s face. He was not used to girls brushing past him. He would be even more surprised if he knew the reason. Stepping out of a pew across from them, Carlton had the look of a dog in search of a fight. He moved away from poor Janie Smith toward Adria. Ruth, with her schoolteacher’s knack of waylaying trouble, moved to Adria’s other side to intercept Carlton.
“Now is not a good time or the proper place, Carlton. I suggest you accompany Miss Smith out of the church as you accompanied her in.”
Ruth’s words found the mark with Carlton. He looked like a whipped dog as he dropped his head and muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”
Adria surprised Ruth by stopping in her rush up the aisle to look at Carlton. “I’m sorry, Carlton, but we really are in a bit of a rush.” She smiled at Janie. “Hello, Janie. It’s good to see you.”
Carlton looked totally thrown off-kilter by Adria’s smile at Janie. His attempt to make Adria jealous had failed royally. Instead, Carlton was the one beset by jealousy at the sight of Logan Farrell. Ruth couldn’t keep from feeling a little sorry for Carlton. He did so want proof that Adria loved him, but romance wasn’t a problem Ruth could solve for Carlton or for Adria. As for Logan Farrell, she doubted he needed anybody to help him solve anything.
She was relieved to reach the back of the church, where Pastor Robertson smiled as he took her hand. “Mrs. Harmon, thank you for coming and thank you so much for that delicious pie. I don’t think I’ve had a cherry pie that tasty since my grandmother passed away.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Reverend.” Ruth returned his smile. “Your sermon was very effective and the message much needed.”
He turned loose of Ruth’s hand and reached toward Adria. “And good to see you too, Miss Starr.” He managed to capture her hand. “I couldn’t help noticing that you appear concerned about something. Can I be of help? As your pastor.”
Adria’s eyes widened a bit, obviously surprised her unease was so evident. “That’s kind of you, Pastor, but I’m fine.”
Without a backward look at Ruth, she pulled her hand from the preacher’s grip and escaped out the door. Logan Farrell edged past Ruth to follow her. That concerned Ruth, but she could hardly chase after them. Not with the preacher still talking to her.
“If you are going to be home this afternoon, Mrs. Harmon, I would like to come by to talk to you and Miss Starr.”
Ruth wasn’t sure what to say to that. She could almost feel Mrs. Gregory’s eyes on her from where she stood in the church aisle behind Ruth.
Pastor Robertson must have noted her hesitation as he went on. “I hope to visit all the members. To speak of how the church can better serve our community. Would today be a good time for you?”
What could she do but smile and acquiesce. “Of course, Reverend. Whenever it pleases you to come. We want to help the church any way we can.”
“And I want to help my members with whatever needs they may have.” The preacher smiled at her and finally turned to the next person in line, releasing Ruth to go after Adria and hope that Carlton and Logan Farrell weren’t squaring off in the churchyard.
All appeared peaceful. Carlton was nowhere in sight. She supposed he had properly escorted Janie Smith home. Logan Farrell was attempting to talk to Adria, but she appeared to be paying scant attention to his words. As soon as she saw Ruth come out of the church, she turned away from him and hurried to Ruth’s side.
“I need to go by the hotel to see Louis. They couldn’t have sold him this quickly, could they?”
“No, dear. If it’s an estate sale, it could be weeks, perhaps months. They will want to advertise the sale.”
“It’s ungodly to advertise the sale of another human being.” Adria was ready to explode.
“Keep your voice down. Remember where you are.”
“I do remember.” But she did lower her voice as she led the way out of the churchyard. “I’m at church, an institution that is completely failing to take the proper stand in regard to this issue.”
“You have to remember that many of the most influential members own slaves.”
“You mean the rich members.” Adria shot a look back over her shoulder toward where some of the people were clustered in front of the church, perhaps still talking about the death of George Sanderson.
“Generally, yes.”
“That doesn’t include us.”
“Indeed not.” Ruth put her hand on Adria’s arm to encourage her to keep moving away from the church. She didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation. “But we’re all children of God.”
“So are Louis and Bet.” Adria gave Ruth a beseeching look. “I have to talk to Louis.”
“Yes. You should, as long as you don’t cause him a problem with your abolitionist talk.”
Louis was levelheaded. He would help Adria calm down. But then maybe Adria was right. Maybe none of them should calm down. Not if staying calm and letting things
happen as they had always happened meant a good man would be sold down the river. Ruth shivered at the thought as Adria hurried away, not content to walk at Ruth’s slower pace.
Adria wouldn’t be happy about the pastor coming to call. Not today, but what else could Ruth have said? If a preacher asked to come visit, one could hardly refuse. Even if the man didn’t seem to realize the gossip such a visit to a widow woman might engender.
People would talk, but she didn’t have to listen. She hurried her steps. She needed to get home to see if the front room was presentable without too many stray books or papers scattered around. Especially Adria’s abolitionist papers. She was supposed to keep them hidden in her bedroom, but sometimes she forgot. So far, Ruth had been able to spirit them out of sight before any visitors noticed. Even Carlton had no idea that Adria was so involved with the northern abolitionists. Perhaps it would be good if he continued to squire Janie Smith around and forgot about Adria. Off and on, the two of them, Carlton and Adria, imagined that they were in love, but if it was really love, shouldn’t it be on all the time?
Ruth sighed. She had to step back and let Adria make her own decisions about love.
When she went in the kitchen door, Ruth was glad to see the applesauce cake one of her customers had failed to pick up yesterday. She had planned to let Adria take it to the store on Monday to sell by the piece, but a slice of cake along with tea or coffee would be the very thing to entertain the pastor.
She had no reason to be apprehensive about his visit. Adria would be back by then. Everything would be proper.
As she took off her hat and then began to straighten the books scattered on the sitting room tables, she wondered if Reverend Robertson read only the Bible or if he had varied interests in books. It might be good to converse with an educated man.
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