by Wendy Lawton
“I do not understand.” Mary was puzzled.
“Which do you think is more pleasing to God: when we stop along life’s way to encourage fellow pilgrims on the journey, or when we step over struggling pilgrims and race to a spectacular finish?”
Mary didn’t answer. “I’d better be heading back to the cottage, Papa.”
Papa helped her knot the soup crock and the spoon into the cloth. “Think about this, Mary, my dearest one—I love you and God loves you. You are strong and you are brave, but you cannot do it all in your own strength.”
Mary started back, tired, discouraged, and confused. I tried my hardest and everyone is mad at me. Without thinking, she mouthed the words that always seemed to help, “I-can-do-all-things … I-can-do-all-things …” But this time the tears started to flow.
Who am I fooling? she thought. I can’t do anything right!
Gifre’s Attack
As Mary moved away from the jail, the tears that threatened to spill could be held back no longer. Her eyes brimmed with moisture. She pressed on the lower lids trying to stem the tide, but it would not be stanched. As the tears coursed down her face, her nose joined the torrent. With the knotted bundle swinging from one arm, she couldn’t swipe her face fast enough. She must look a sniveling mess. How could she go back to the cottage like this? Slow, deep breaths helped as she struggled for control.
Thankfully, Mill Lane seemed uncommonly quiet for mid-afternoon. Because her hands had been filled with the three bags and the soup she carried to Papa, she had not brought her cane. Without it to negotiate the road ahead, she depended on her sensitive feet. She always wore shoes made of supple leather—both uppers and sole—the more worn, the better. With her cane she would have gained speed, but the way home was so familiar, her feet practically knew every cobble.
Goodwife Harbin’s geese honked at her. Fortunately, a picket fence stood between them—a guard dog was less of a threat than a goose protecting his property. Mary knew that the whack of an irate gander’s head could topple someone much bigger than she.
Somewhere off to her left, someone was tunelessly humming. Will I ever have anything to hum about? she wondered. She caught the scrape of scampering feet ahead to her right, very near the Dissenting Meetinghouse. A child playing. And will I ever play again? Her shoulders ached from the weight of the sacks she had earlier carried to Papa. It seemed like hours had passed since she had made her way to the jail.
Stop it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She swiped the last of the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand and straightened her shoulders. Hoisting the cloth with the mug and spoon, she hurried her pace. Just remember—the plan worked. It worked.
The scurrying sounds ceased, but she breathed the dust raised by the movement. Mary suspected that the person she heard moving stopped to watch her go by. How she hated the feeling of being watched. “Hello? Are you playing?” Nothing. She quickened her step again, but something felt wrong.
She crossed in front of the meetinghouse, as she always did. Why was the old beech tree rustling like that? She stopped. Except for a few stubborn leaves, the branches must be bare. Strange.
Why did her mind go to Gifre? His house was very close to the back of the property, but—
Thwack! A branch lashed across her face with walloping force, slamming her to the ground backward. She could hardly get her breath. Her cheek felt like it was broken. What happened? Was that Gifre … laughing … running in the opposite direction?
No! Please, no. Mary heard Jake—her own brother—running away. The flap of that loose sole was unmistakable. Calm down, Mary. First things first. Get up. Get up. She summoned every bit of courage she could muster.
She used her arms to push herself up on her elbows, but a stabbing pain took her breath away. Her leg was injured. Until someone came along to help, she was stuck.
What happened? Mary’s fingers probed the bones of her face. The damaged side was swelling. She spat out blood that filled her mouth. I refuse to dwell on Jake …
The pain made her queasy. I can wait until help comes. I know I can. What does it matter that everyone is angry with me? Mary was having a hard time keeping up her brave disguise.
“I-can-do-all-things … I-can-do-all-things,” she said aloud, as if speaking would make it so. Stop fooling yourself, Mary, she chided herself. There is no doubt that Jake partnered with Gifre in this attack. Papa is disappointed in me. I’ve let Elizabeth down. Bets is mad at me for shutting her out. Now I cannot get up because something is wrong with my leg, my head hurts, my face is injured beyond recognition, and … I’m blind. “I can’t do anything!” Mary screamed the words that ended in a flood of tears, but no one witnessed her descent into Papa’s Slough of Despond.
For the second time that day, Mary wept. As she managed to pull herself to a sitting position, she discovered that Papa’s mug was shattered. Shattered! How was she ever to replace it? The tears turned to sobs until she was hiccoughing with despair. She had no concept of time, but eventually her crying eased.
A sense of calm followed the weeping. It seemed as if she slept and then woke. Some idea flickered ’round the back of her mind. Fix your thoughts, Mary. She couldn’t grasp it. It had to do with … the missing part. What missing part? she wondered. Her verse—she always left off the last phrase. What was it? Through Christ. Yes. That is it! I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
“I can do all things—through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Mary said the words as if she were hearing them for the first time. “Through Christ,” she repeated, slowly shaking her swollen head.
How stubborn I have been. The realization was like a door opening for her. ’Tis like Papa said, I do not have to do it in my strength alone! Even Sofia chided her about not accepting help.
Mary turned expressive fingers up to heaven, as if to relinquish her control. “Father,” she prayed aloud, “forgive me for not doing all things through You. I have been so stubborn and made a mess of everything. Elizabeth and Bets are mad at me. I provoked Jake until he turned on his own family. I pushed away the help of our good neighbors. In missing Mother, I have been cold to Elizabeth.”
The pain in Mary’s leg was sharp enough to pull her from prayer. Her face throbbed, but she felt calm and lighter—as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Almost like when Papa removed her heavy sacks. Oh, Father, how have I lived without You? This time she was not thinking of Papa.
Before she had time to ponder this question, she heard the sound of Jake running toward her, followed by the voice of Elizabeth. “Mary, are you hurt?”
Just before Mary slid off into unconsciousness, she thought, My brother … Jake … brought help. Thank You, Father.
The Healing Begins
Mary groaned as she woke. “Where am I?”
“Elizabeth. Mary is awake!” Bets must have been sitting beside the bed. “You are in bed in the downstairs alcove. How do you feel?”
“Battered.”
“I’m so glad you are back with us, Mary.” It was Elizabeth. “By the time I reached you, you were unconscious.”
“How did you get me home?”
“I sent Jake after your father’s handcart. We lifted you as carefully as we were able and then trundled you home.”
“So, I was carted home like so much firewood.” Mary tried to laugh at her feeble joke, but it hurt too much.
“The doctor is here,” announced Jake.
“Everyone into the kitchen while the doctor takes a look at Mary,” said Elizabeth.
“Ummm.” Mary tried to shake her head to clear the muzziness, but the motion made her dizzy.
“Good. You are awake,” said Bets. “As soon as the doctor began poking at your leg, you swooned again.”
“What did the doctor say?” Mary asked as she heard Elizabeth walk back into the room.
“The bones in your leg are not broken. You must have wrenched it as you fell. Damage has been done to the flesh and gristl
e, but thankfully, nothing permanent.” Elizabeth expelled an audible sigh. Many a person in Bedfordshire had died from a broken leg. “You may be concussed from the fall, but only slightly.” She pulled at one of Mary’s curls. “These springy curls may have come in handy when you hit the back of your head. If the doctor’s tale be true, they may have cushioned the blow somewhat.”
“Are you teasing, Elizabeth?” Mary could hear the relief in her stepmother’s tone of voice.
“Perhaps just a little, wee Mary. I thank God that He spared you any permanent injury.” Elizabeth took Mary’s hand in her soft fingers and raised it to her lips. “I cannot imagine what we would do without you.”
“How can you say that after the way I’ve treated you?” asked Mary. “As I walked home from visiting Papa, I was filled with shame over the way I treated my family.”
“Oh, Mary. If you but knew how we agonized over the things we said to you.” Bets sounded very near tears.
“Is Jake here?” asked Mary.
A subdued voice from the corner of the room answered,
“Aye.”
“Do you have a chair, Jake?”
“No.”
“Will you fetch a chair so that you can all be comfortable?” Mary listened. “Is Thomas playing?”
“No,” answered Elizabeth. “’Tis evening now. He has already been bedded down.”
“Before I say what I am aching to say, what did the doctor say about my face?” Mary’s fingers gently probed the swelling around the raised welt that started at her forehead above her right eye had slashed diagonally across her brow, the bridge of her nose, her cheek, and ended on the side of her neck.
Elizabeth answered, “No broken bones there either.”
“You shall not want to be asking any of us for a picture of how you look, though,” Bets teased.
“Bets!” Elizabeth tried to sound outraged, but Bets’s lightheartedness relieved some of the tension of the day. “The doctor said no permanent damage has been done to your face. The blow did not break the skin, so once the swelling goes down, you shall be as comely as ever.”
Jake dragged the chair in and sat down. His uneasiness played out in the scuffing of his loose sole on the rung of the chair.
“Before we say another word, I have much to get off my chest. First … I must ask forgiveness.” Mary was serious now.
“Forgiveness! Mary, what are you talking about?” Elizabeth was puzzled.
“As I walked home from the jail, I was filled with self-pity. I believed I had been toiling to save this family and that no one appreciated me.” Mary smiled self-consciously. “Papa exhorted me earlier, in his gentle way, to face the damage my stubbornness caused.” Mary paused. “It did not do much to improve my already black mood.”
Elizabeth laid a cool cloth across Mary’s cheek.
“Thank you.” It felt good. Mary continued, “Good thing I did not wallow in the pity overly long. ’Tis not a pretty sight, let me assure you.” Mary chuckled when she thought of her eyes and nose running and her shoulders heaving with sobs. “No, ’tis not a pretty sight, but it did not last long. After the pity came some startling revelations.”
“Revelations?” asked Jake.
“Aye. Fresh insight into the way I acted toward my family.” Mary turned the cloth over to the cooler side. “Papa was right. In my pride, I pushed away the help of both friends and family. I wanted to depend on no one. I was bluffing. ’Twas a sham.”
“You don’t have to say all this now, Mary,” began Elizabeth.
“But I must,” insisted Mary. “I spent my life carrying burdens that should have been shared—all because my pride would not allow me to ask for help. Do you know what that did?”
“Did it make you strong?” asked Bets.
“No. It made me push away everyone God sent to help me. Even my friend Sofia chided me about my fear of accepting help.” Mary fingered the soft ribbon in her apron pocket while she reached out with her other hand toward her stepmother. “Elizabeth, when you came into our family you seemed to love us from the very start. I feared that if I loved you, I would forget my own mother.” Mary connected with Elizabeth’s hand and felt her unspoken encouragement through touch. “How could I have missed welcoming you as a stepmother and a friend?”
“I knew we would eventually be friends, Mary.” Elizabeth laid her other hand over Mary’s.
“And instead of planning and sharing with you, Bets, I kept everything secret. I am ashamed that you found out about the plan from Gifre.” Mary shuddered to think of Gifre. She heard Jake squirming in his chair.
“There is no need to apologize, Mary,” said Bets. “We heard about the plan. Elizabeth went to visit Father earlier this evening, to ease his mind, should he have heard about your accident.”
“And he had heard rumors,” added Elizabeth. “He was beside himself with grief and worry. You know how much he loves you.”
“I do.”
“He was so relieved to hear that you will recover,” said Elizabeth.
“But,” interrupted Bets, “he told Elizabeth about your plan. He called it ‘perfect.’ I am sorry for the way I behaved when I heard about the … pure.”
“If I had let the family in on the plan from the beginning, there would have been no shock.” Mary laughed a little. “And ’tis not as bad as you have imagined, little sister.”
“Believe me, Mary. I shall not question your judgment again.” Bets sounded sincere.
“Never again, Bets?” Mary smiled. “Elizabeth, you are my witness.”
They all laughed. Somehow nothing seemed as bad when they teased each other. Mary could hear Jake squirming in his chair again.
“Jake, I need to ask you to forgive me too.”
“Me?”
“Aye. I bossed you around and it made you so angry that Gifre was able to turn you against your family.” Mary reached out toward Jake, but as she connected with him, she felt him shrink away.
“What d’ya mean, ‘turn against’?” Jake sounded prickly.
“’Twas not really your fault, Jake—”
“What are you talking about, Mary?” Jake jumped off his chair and grabbed her arm.
“Ouch!” She was sore all over.
“Jake, sit down,” said Elizabeth.
“But, Elizabeth, Mary thinks I did this to her.”
“No, Jake, she could not think that.” Elizabeth paused. “You cannot think that, can you, Mary?”
“Well …” Mary was confused. Had she misheard? “Every time I heard Gifre, I knew that Jake was near.”
“How did you know?” asked Jake.
“The sole of your shoe is loose. It makes a distinctive flapping sound,” Mary explained.
“So you thought I was helping Gifre,” Jake said. “You believe I could do this to you?”
Mary thought about that. “No,” she said slowly. In fact, he was the one to bring help this afternoon. “You are right, Jake. You cannot have done this.” She remembered his hard work collecting pure—how could she have thought it possible?
“Now let me ask forgiveness, Mary,” said Jake. “When Papa was arrested, I was angry that he asked you to take care of Elizabeth and the family. What about me?”
Elizabeth interrupted, “Your father was concerned because I fainted. He did not intend for any of you children to be burdened with caring for this family. Your father and I will always see that you children are cared for.”
“I know, Elizabeth,” said Jake, “but Mary was being bossy about it when you were sick.”
“He speaks truth, Elizabeth,” admitted Mary. “I did push him around.”
“When Gifre started being nice to me,” Jake said, “it made me feel important. He asked me to help him spread some dried peas along Mill Lane that day that Mary took soup to Papa. He said it was a treat for the birds. When I saw Mary fall, I knew how bad Gifre was. I was so ashamed I ran.”
“So that is why I heard you.” Mary had heard correctly.
“
Yes. When Timoz found me, the day of the St. Andrew’s Day Fair—”
“Whoa! Jake running with Gifre,” Elizabeth said. “Mary slipping on peas, the St. Andrew’s Day Fair. It sounds like I missed quite a bit of intrigue while I was ill!”
Mary admitted that before they were finished, Elizabeth would undoubtedly hear even more. She promised Elizabeth that from now on, there would be no more secrets.
Jake continued his explanation. While he was making his way back to Mary, on the day of the fair, Timoz told him about Gifre and the peashooter. Jake was horrified to realize that Gifre was determined to torment Mary. He promised Timoz he would watch out for Mary.
“When Bets told me that you had just left to take Papa’s soup, I hurried out to find you,” Jake said. “I found that rope stretched across the road to trip you, so I took my knife and cut Gifre’s rope in two.” He paused. “I was too late to help you the second time. I came just as Gifre let go of one of the rope pieces he rigged, catapulting the branch to hit you.”
“I wondered how the branch came to wallop me,” said Mary.
“Gifre ran. I knew you needed help, so I ran for Elizabeth first.” He was quiet. “I probably should have seen to you first, huh?”
“You need not worry, Brother. I am grateful that you were watching out for me,” Mary said. “You have no idea how I worried.”
“I didn’t want to say I was looking out for you, since you hate to be helped.”
Mary laughed. “Not any longer. I shall take all help offered.”
“You sound like you’ve had a real change of heart, Mary,” said Bets, putting a fresh cloth on her face.
“That is exactly what I had—a change of heart.” Mary was too tired to tell them about her prayer. All she said was, “I learned a new verse—‘I can do all things—through Christ which strengtheneth me.’”