Longings of the Heart (26 page)

“I love lobelia,” Catharine said. “But in this heat it’s a chore to keep them watered. And poor Dalton has been given the task of keeping them alive. Some days I’ve seen him watering more than once.”

“I’ve brought tea,” Gwen said, setting a pitcher on an occasional table beside Mrs. Atherton’s chair. “Mrs. Goudy made raspberry tarts. Would ye like some, mum?”

“That sounds lovely.”

Gwen disappeared inside. Hannah sipped the cool mint tea.

Catharine continued to fan herself. “Oh, on days like this I wonder why we ever left England.”

“The cool days there were nice.”

Catharine stopped fanning herself long enough to take a drink of her tea. “I pray all is well with you and John and Thomas.”

Hannah held her glass between her hands. Although she’d come specifically to speak with Catharine about her troubles at home, she wasn’t ready to do so just yet. “We’re doing splendidly,” she said. “John’s working hard and he’s accomplished so much. Our flocks are growing and we’ve a bountiful garden.”

“And Thomas? How is he?”

Hannah turned the glass counterclockwise and then took a sip. “Actually he’s the reason I’ve come. I need . . . guidance.”

Catharine leaned closer to Hannah. “I don’t know that I can help, but I can listen.”

Gwen returned with a tray of tarts. She set them on the occasional table.

“Thank you,” Catharine said.

Hannah picked up one. “They look delicious.” She took a bite. “Mmm. Tell Mrs. Goudy thank you for me.”

“I’ll do that,” Gwen said as she walked indoors.

Catharine turned to Hannah. “So, you were saying something about Thomas.”

“Yes.” Hannah set the tart on the plate. “He’s unhappy . . . mostly with me. He and John seem to be getting along well, but things are not good between me and him. And I’ve been too harsh. I’m having a terrible time being tolerant.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Catharine sat back in her chair. “And what do you think is causing the strife?”

“I’m not sure. From the first day there’s been trouble.”

“How so?”

“First off, John brought Thomas home without consulting me at all. He simply showed up with him. I was quite taken aback and ill prepared when they arrived at the house. And I didn’t handle it well. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and Thomas heard.” She set the glass on the table. “He’s been angry ever since. He told me he doesn’t want to live with us. Never did.

“So, as you can see, we started out quite badly. And I’ve been struggling since, angry one minute, contrite the next, and hopeful and then hopeless.” She brushed damp hair off her face. “Sometimes I feel angry with Thomas without cause.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. I’ve not been myself since . . . well, since I told John about the baby, about everything.” Hannah clasped her hands tightly together.

“I’m glad you told him.”

“Yes, but we had a terrible fight, and he left. That’s when the convict broke into the house.”

“I thought there was something not quite right when you came to visit.”

“Anyway, when John returned, we talked about it all, and I told him I was afraid that we’d never have children. He assured me that he was confident we would. And that God understood how I’d felt and why I’d done what I did and that he wouldn’t punish me.”

“None of us can know exactly the mind of the Lord, but I tend to agree with John. I don’t think God is punishing you, dear.”

“I’d like to believe you, but why haven’t we had a child?”

Mrs. Atherton turned thoughtful. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully. “Hannah, do you think God was punishing me? I have no children.”

“No. Of course not. You’re a wonderful person.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I used to wonder why William and I never had children, and I even questioned whether or not there was some sin I’d committed that would cause God to withhold his blessings. But in time, I came to understand that we each have our own path to walk and that path has a specific purpose. We must trust where God leads.”

Hannah nodded, feeling her sadness lift just a bit. “When John told me he thought we’d have children, I believed him. It gave me great comfort to know he believed in me and in us. But when he brought Thomas home, it was as if he were saying he didn’t believe. I felt he’d lied to me and thought I deserved God’s punishment.”

“Oh, Hannah.” Catharine reached across and placed a hand on Hannah’s arm. “I don’t see that at all. John simply wants children and this boy needed a home. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Catharine poured herself more tea and added some to Hannah’s glass. “I see no cause for you to react so negatively.” “You’re probably right, but . . .” Hannah stared at her hands. “I can’t believe it. Every time I look at Thomas, I see John’s doubt.”

“That’s why you’re having so much difficulty with Thomas, dear. You’re placing the hurt and frustration you feel toward John on that boy.” She cooled herself with the fan. “And is it possible that you’re afraid to love him because that means you agree there will be no children?”

The idea slammed into Hannah. Was that what was wrong?

“It’s perilous to allow our minds to control us, dear. If we give in to every emotional whim, we can cause great harm. Scripture says we’re to take our thoughts captive. We must see things as Christ sees them. Pray and he will reveal his will to you.”

Hannah straightened her legs and crossed them at the ankles. “I know you’re right, but I’m not sure what to do about Thomas. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to live in my house. I’m wondering if he’d be better off living elsewhere. I think he hates me.”

“Of course he doesn’t. He’s just a boy.”

“He does. And . . . I don’t love him. Some days I can scarcely tolerate him.” Hannah’s throat tightened and she could barely speak. “I pray, but it’s not getting better. Some days I think that perhaps we’re growing closer, and then something will happen and things are worse than ever. Just yesterday, Thomas and I had a row and he told me that he’ll leave the moment he can.”

If Catharine was shocked, she didn’t show it. Calmly she asked, “How about John and Thomas? How are they? You said they were getting along.”

“Yes. I think Thomas likes and respects John. And John wants it to work so badly. He loves Thomas but manages to restrain his affection, knowing he must wait until Thomas is ready to be loved.”

Catharine sipped her tea and sat back. “Although John made a commitment to the lad without your consent, once he brought him home, you were also committed. You can’t send him back, even if there were a place to send him to. Thomas deserves better than that.”

She leaned closer to Hannah. “The Holy Spirit lives inside of you, and he will provide the love you need. But you must be willing to allow it to bloom. And as to whether or not there are any babies—that’s God’s choice.”

“I know he can do all things, but sometimes I doubt he will do them for me. I want my own children so badly . . .”

“As did I.” Catharine’s tone was sharp. “I waited too long, hoping that one day I’d be able to give William a child of his own.” She shook her head sadly. “By the time I realized I was waiting on the wrong dream, it was too late to adopt a child. We were too old.” She smiled softly, her eyes glistening with tears. “It doesn’t have to be like that for you. This child is a gift, if only you would see him as such.”

“Even if I do, that doesn’t change the fact that he hates me.” “He doesn’t hate you. He’s hurt and angry. The people he loved the most in the world were taken from him, and he’s been shuffled about and hasn’t felt wanted. How would you respond?”

Hannah knew how it felt, but it seemed she was still unable to overcome her own problems. “I want it to work, but so much has happened. I doubt he’ll ever forgive me.”

Catharine grasped Hannah’s hand. “I don’t think you’re giving God enough credit. He can do anything.” She squeezed gently. “You pray and listen to his leading. He’ll do what he must. That boy needs a mother and you need a son.”

Blinking back tears, Catharine cleared her throat and sat back. “Now, tell me why you’ve been staying away and why you and Lydia aren’t speaking to each other.”

Hannah was taken off guard. She hadn’t intended to share any of that. She didn’t want to talk about it.

Catharine waited.

“There is something.” Hannah picked up her tea and took a sip. “It has to do with Deidre.”

Catharine raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Lydia told Deidre about what happened in London and about the baby.”

“It’s not like her to carry tales.”

“She only meant it to help,” Hannah admitted. “Deidre made her think that she cared about me, and Lydia told her. Now Deidre’s threatening to expose the truth. She’s been demanding we provide her with . . . things. If not, she’ll speak up.”

“Things, like what?”

“Food and livestock.”

“Oh dear. And you’ve been giving in to her demands?”

“Yes. We didn’t know what else to do.”

“You mustn’t give her another thing. People like her will never be satisfied. I’ll see to it she’s terminated immediately.”

“Oh no. Please don’t. If she knows I’ve said anything, she’ll speak to the church elders.”

“That may be true, but I doubt she has the courage. You can’t allow this to go on.” Catharine stood. “I knew there was something not right about her, but I’d hoped . . .” She looked out over the grounds. “I’ll tend to it.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t say anything. She’s quite vindictive.”

“All the more reason. And remember, if she speaks out, she’ll be exposing her own treachery.” She moved toward the steps. “I doubt she’s got courage enough for that.” She took the first step and then stopped. With her hand on the railing, she turned back to Hannah. “I’ll consider what you’ve said, dear. But I don’t know that I can keep that woman in my employ.”

“Do what you think is right,” Hannah conceded.

Catharine took another step, then looked at Hannah again. “You know Lydia’s been sorrowing over the loss of your friend-ship far too long. You were the best of friends. You need each other.” She smiled and then moved slowly down the stairway.

John tossed hay from a loft and then climbed down a ladder. Thomas pushed a pitchfork into the feed and carried some to a crib. “Fine job,” John said, taking off his gloves. “I could do with some lunch. How ’bout you?”

“I’m hungry.” Thomas pushed the pitchfork into the hay pile.

“Hannah set out bread and cheese before she left this morning. I say we take some down to the river and eat, then have a swim.”

Thomas smiled. “Sounds fine to me.” He followed John to the house.

John gathered up the cheese and bread and placed it in a cloth bag. “Fruit would be good too, eh? We’ve some plums.” “I’d like that.”

John added several plums, grabbed a flask of water, and walked out the door. “On a hot day like this, a swim will be just the thing.” He winked at Thomas.

Thomas nodded and grinned. “I know how to swim. Me dad taught me.”

“Good.” John hurried toward the river, anxious to eat and get cooled off. He stopped beneath a large gum tree, then sat with his back against the tree, legs bent. Reaching into the bag, he took out a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese and handed them to Thomas. He took some for himself. The two sat quietly eating, enjoying a cool breeze.

“Wonder where the flies got to,” Thomas said, looking about.

“Speak quietly; they’re never far off,” John teased, enjoying the time with Thomas. It felt good, as if they were father and son.

Thomas sat with his legs crossed and quickly ate his simple meal. “I could do with a bit more. Is there any?”

“There is.” John started to reach inside the bag when he noticed a ripple in the grass behind Thomas. “Be still. Don’t move.” The boy stiffened.

Then John saw it—a large brown snake, one he knew to be deadly. It slid through the grass and straight for Thomas. He had no time to find a weapon, so John lunged for the viper, grabbing it directly behind the head. He pressed it into the ground and pushed the boy aside.

Thomas jumped to his feet. “Blimey! What is it?”

John grabbed his knife out of its sheath and quickly sliced the head from the body. He tossed both parts into the river. The body writhed on the surface for a moment and then sank. He wiped his knife in the grass and pushed it back into its sheath.

“That was a big one,” Thomas said.

“It was at that.” John smiled and tried to hide the tremor in his lips.

Thomas looked around. “Do ye think there are more?”

“No. They’re solitary creatures.”

Thomas sat down, and John handed him another hunk of cheese and bread. Thomas stared at the food, then looked at John. “Why’d ye do that?”

“He might have bitten you. I had to kill him.”

“But ye could have been bitten yerself. Ye could have died.”

“I guess I could have at that.” John took out a plum and bit into it. Juice squirted and he wiped it from his chin.

“Ye risked yer life.”

John heard something new in Thomas’s voice—wonder. He stopped chewing. “What is it, lad?”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “No one ’cept me mum or dad would have done that for me.”