The Gifted (17 page)

11

Jessamine didn’t know what she had expected. She had not only willfully disobeyed the rules, she had done so in the very center of the village directly across from the meetinghouse. While the meetinghouse was generally empty except on Sundays, the rooms above it were not. Those chosen to the Ministry, two elders and two eldresses, lived there in seclusion in order to fairly perform their duty to watch and judge, to steer the village with rules and directives.

When the Believers went forth to exercise their worship, it was the Ministry’s eyes peering through the specially made peek holes on the stairway walls to be sure no wrong actions took place. But they did not only watch on Sundays. They watched every day from their windows or gave the duty to others to watch from appointed places.

Jessamine knew their names. Elder Horace and Elder James. Eldress Sue and Eldress Joanna. She had seen them on occasion walking back and forth between the meetinghouse and the Ministry’s workshop behind it. Quiet shadows with heads bent studying the ground. Prayerful always, according to Sister Sophrena.

But surely prayerfulness did not necessarily keep one from looking upward at clouds skipping across a blue sky or to the explosion of blooms in the orchard nearby. Nature patiently offered her gifts. It seemed wrong to refuse those gifts by not noticing. It seemed doubly wrong to ignore such beauty while being ever watchful for some evidence of sinful actions.

She had known they would be watching. Not the Ministry perhaps, but someone. Someone was always watching. And she had never intended to keep her lapse of proper behavior completely secret from Sister Sophrena. Part of it for a certainty. Jessamine saw not the least need in admitting her desire to kiss the man from the world as they stood in the shadows. Such knowledge would only distress Sister Sophrena, who would perhaps think she should shoulder some of the blame for Jessamine’s shameful disregard of the rules. She would fear she hadn’t taught Jessamine well enough.

That wouldn’t be true. It wasn’t the lack of knowledge of what was and what wasn’t allowed that tripped Jessamine up, but simply her desire to know and experience those things she wondered about. Things of the world like the touch of the man’s finger on her cheek. At least she hadn’t lied about that to Sister Sophrena, even if her answer had brought the look Jessamine so dreaded into the sister’s eyes. Not anger. Sister Sophrena never got angry with her. Sometimes Jessamine thought she might like it better if Sister Sophrena did yell at her or even strike her. That would be easier than the look of disappointment. A mingling of sadness and concern over Jessamine’s unrepentant spirit.

Jessamine always did her best to look remorseful and to say repentant words. She was always sorry to fall short of Sister Sophrena’s mark. But she never truly regretted the curiosity that generally led her into wrongdoing. Nor did she sincerely regret the minutes she’d spent in the shadows with the man from the world. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit what she truly regretted was jerking away before he touched his lips to hers.

The night before, she had whirled in and out among the apple trees until she was too dizzy to stand. Then she had embraced one of the trees with the bark digging into her arms while her head stopped spinning, but her thoughts had continued to spin with her wondering about the kiss that almost was. She kissed the back of her hand. She picked up a smooth stone and kissed its cool surface. She even thought of running on to the barns to find a horse to kiss. At least that would be something living and breathing.

But she had tamped down on her foolishness and made her way back to the Gathering House. She adjusted her cap before she eased open the door into her sleeping room and slipped quietly inside as though just returning from a necessary trip to the privy. It was the time of reflection and rest before the evening meeting in the upper room where they would practice the proper steps of their laboring dances for the next day’s worship.

Several of the sisters were so deep in reflection they didn’t even look up when she stepped into the room, although Jessamine could feel the rush of outdoor air that came with her. Sister Abigail flashed a grin at her as though she knew what caused the flush on Jessamine’s cheeks before she covered her mouth with her hand and looked down at the book she was holding. Even from across the room, Jessamine could see that it was a book of Mother Ann’s precepts. She herself had been set to studying the very same book often enough by Sister Sophrena after some lapse in behavior.

Sister Annie stood up and patted down the broad white collar over her bosom. Jessamine quickly smoothed down her own collar but that did nothing to forestall Sister Edna’s annoyance. A piece of tree bark fell from the folds of Jessamine’s collar. She deftly caught it before it hit the floor and dropped it into her apron pocket.

Sister Edna swooped across the room toward her like a hawk diving down to sink its talons into a rabbit that had strayed too far from cover. “Are you hiding something, Sister Jessamine?” she demanded.

“Nay,” Jessamine answered, while thinking she was indeed hiding a great deal. A great deal that she would never wish to reveal to Sister Edna. The sister in front of her had little patience for wayward thinking.

Sister Edna held out her hand, palm up, toward Jessamine. “If you’ve brought something sinful into our sleeping rooms, it is my duty to know what it is.” When Jessamine hesitated, the woman went on. “It is more than obvious that you have been straying from the proper path. You missed the evening meal and now you come sneaking in with your collar askew and smudged with black. Whatever have you been doing?”

“Forgive me, Sister Edna.” Jessamine hung her head down in an effort to appease the woman. “I did not come promptly enough when the bell rang to signal the meal. I regret my tardiness.”

“That hardly explains the black on your collar.”

The room was very quiet as the other sisters waited to see what story Jessamine would concoct to explain her absence. She had been told—out of Sister Edna’s hearing—that her excuses were often very entertaining. She thought her sisters might truly have been very entertained if she told about the man of the world touching her cheek. The thought of it was entertaining to her own senses, but she hardly dared tell Sister Edna that much of the truth.

“Nay, you are right. As you know, I was in the rose gardens throughout the day. I must have soiled my hands and then my collar as I straightened it.”

“I worked in the same rose gardens. I managed not to soil my apron and collar. Besides, I have yet to see any black roses in our gardens.” She thrust her hand, palm up, toward Jessamine. “Let me see what you hid in your pocket.”

“It is but a piece of bark.” Jessamine pulled the bark from her pocket and placed it in Sister Edna’s hand. “When I missed the evening meal, I thought it would cause no harm if I took a walk through the apple orchard. The sight of the apples swelling on the branches lifts my spirits with the seen evidence of the good Lord blessing our family with abundant fruit. The thought of such blessing made my feet itch until I felt the need to whirl among the trees.”

“Perhaps you were dancing with angels,” one of the young sisters spoke up. Sister Wileena was always hoping to see angels.

Sister Edna turned to glare at her as if the poor girl shared in Jessamine’s guilt. “The angels have stopped coming down to dance with us. You have been told that many times, Sister Wileena.”

Sister Wileena looked down at her hands. “Yea, Sister Edna. But why? When I first came among the Believers three years ago, there was much talk of angels speaking through chosen instruments and bringing messages from the other side. Why have they stopped coming?”

“The Era of Manifestations is past. The leaders at New Lebanon have told us as much. We must now tend to the duties handed down to us from the Ministry and worship with appropriate discipline and commitment.” Sister Edna turned her eyes back to Jessamine. “Discipline that some of our sisters struggle to practice.”

“Yea, Sister Edna,” Jessamine said. “I will go wash my hands and put on a clean collar before our gathering time.”

“A clean spirit might be more to be desired. You should pray for such and not keep entertaining wrong thoughts that might lead you into sin.”

Sister Abigail stood up and stepped closer to Sister Edna to peer at the bark in the woman’s hand. “Oh my, look at that! Sister Jessamine has brought us in a worm.”

Sister Edna shrieked and slung her hand, sending the bark flying across the room to bounce off the wall and hit on her bed. “Get that off my bed. At once.”

Sister Abigail’s smile was wide as she turned away, but Jessamine didn’t dare let her lips show any amusement as she snatched the bark off the bed. If there had ever been a worm on it, there was none now. She ran her hand over the bedcover and found nothing. Nor was there anything on the floor or any evidence of it meeting its demise smashed against the wall. Without doubt, Abigail had lied to upset Sister Edna. A very successful lie.

“Are you sure there was a worm, Sister Abigail?” Jessamine asked as she lifted the cover to shake it a bit.

“Oh yea.” Abigail took a step back as though worried the worm was too near her, but Jessamine saw the girl’s mischief as she goaded the older sister. “A very plump one with strange hairy horns and many legs.”

Sister Edna shrieked again and lifted up her skirts to show her sturdy shoes. A couple of the sisters giggled and Jessamine bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. Then she sighed. She had not the least trouble imagining the worm right along with Abigail, but how could she convince Sister Edna the worm was in her hand on the way back outside? She would be worm searching all night or perhaps be appointed to stand beside Sister Edna’s bed at ready to catch the creature when it crawled out of hiding.

The bell sounded, summoning them to the upper room for the time of practice, and gave Jessamine an escape.

She looked over at Sister Edna tiptoeing backward toward the door with her skirts still hiked. “With your permission, Sister Edna, I will get the broom and sweep every inch of the floor in order to find the worm and carry it out of our house. That way we can all sleep easier this night.”

“I can stay and help her since I saw it so well,” Abigail spoke up. “With its many legs.”

Again a couple of the sisters tittered behind their hands as they began to line up at the door. It was evident everybody but Sister Edna was aware the worm was a figment of Sister Abigail’s imagination. Something even Sister Edna must have been beginning to suspect as her eyes narrowed on Abigail.

“Nay, Sister Abigail. You are in need of practice to learn the songs for our meeting. Sister Jessamine will find the creature after your apt description.” Sister Edna dropped her skirts and led the way out of the room.

Abigail reluctantly followed after her with a glance back at Jessamine. When Sister Annie passed Jessamine, she gave her shoulder a sympathetic touch. Jessamine tried to look sorry to be missing the practice, but in truth, she was not. She was glad not to have to do the marches up and back and sing the same verses over and over again until the very words seemed to be pounded into her head. Why the leaders favored songs with so few words or songs with no recognizable words at all, simply repetitions of sounds with no meanings, was a mystery to her.

Jessamine loved words and could see no reason not to use them with abandon to tell about the love of God and the blessings a Believer could know by living the simple life. But when she said as much to Sister Sophrena once, the sister had gently reminded her that it was the simple life she was forgetting. A Believer was to ever strive to seek the gift to be simple in all things, even in song.

But things weren’t always so simple. Even an imaginary worm. Or an imagined kiss. Or knowing what to believe. Or even who she was. If only she could ask her granny. Her granny knew the answers to at least some of her questions. But those answers were lost to Jessamine forever. Sister Sophrena told her not to worry about what she could not know, but to accept what she did know. That the Lord loved her and her sisters loved her and the simple life was best.

But was it? That was always the question that tickled the back of Jessamine’s mind. How could she be sure of that? She knew so little of the world and she had so many questions. Questions she could have asked her granny but that would surely upset Sister Sophrena and could never even be voiced in the hearing of a sister like Sister Edna.

With great care, Jessamine swept the floor and under the beds and every corner as she had promised Sister Edna. There was no worm, but the more she swept, the more real the worm became to her. A worm that would someday fly. How could a worm whose very belly dragged against the ground or was anchored to a tree trunk every minute of its life imagine someday flying?

Jessamine held out her hand as if the worm was crawling upon it. She could almost feel it moving across her skin, each inch forward a laborious journey. But someday that would change. Someday it would float through the air so changed that unless one witnessed the change, it would never be believed. Perhaps she was that way too. Inching along in one life and not able to imagine what might happen if she shed her Shaker cap and apron and stepped out into the world. Could she fly? Did she want to fly?