The Messenger (39 page)

Hannah

Long about one of the clock I heard explosions from the direction of Germantown. They were followed soon after by the thunder of drums. It was foolish of me, but I pushed back my blanket and crept to the window. Opening the sash, I put my head out into the night. The jail was many blocks behind me, but I scoured the shadows with my gaze just the same. Wanting, hoping, praying for my will to be done.

I wanted them all to escape.

I lay there through the night, tense with worry, waiting for the watchman to call out that prisoners had escaped. But no alarm was raised, and after a while the noise ceased. Dawn’s first light somehow found me sleeping.

When I woke, it was with the thought that everything was finally finished. My part in the escape was over. There were no more visits to be paid to the jail. But even as I celebrated the end of my clandestine activity, I remembered one thing more. Today, this morning, my family would return to the house, leaving me behind. I did not know what I should do, whether I should offer to help them pack or whether it would be better if I kept myself hidden away.

Listening to the sounds of trunks being shut and footsteps treading up and down the stair, I decided to time my appearance to their leaving. I embraced my sister and my brothers as they left. I nodded at my father.

Mother kissed my cheek. “Thee are always welcome, Hannah.”

“I know it.”

“I will pray that sense comes back to thy heart.”

Just as I would pray that it always remained attuned to God’s voice.

She gave me a swift embrace and then . . . they were gone.

Aunt Rebekah took up my hand soon after, drawing me with her into the parlor. “I do not know you, Hannah, as well as I would like.”

I did not know what to say. The reason we did not know each other was because she had left the Meeting when she’d married my uncle.

“I feel badly that religion has come between our families. Perhaps . . . do you have any questions? About what your life will be now? Polly has been indulged too much, to my way of thinking. But it’s possible that you’ve been indulged too little. There is joy to be had from art and literature and music. The heart needs beauty to expand and grow. I want you to know that there is a purpose served by some of the things of which Friends disapprove.”

I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to believe that. But I did have a question for her. “Was it difficult? To leave?”

“It’s always difficult to leave people you love. But I haven’t missed the Meeting.”

“Not at all?”

“Perhaps . . . just a little. I still see those plain white walls in my dreams and sometimes I find myself missing the stillness. The silence. That anticipation of hearing from God. But you can be a Friend, Hannah, even if you’re not a member of the Meeting.”

As I looked at Aunt Rebekah and listened to her speak, I noticed something about her that I had not seen before. Though her gown was carmine in color, and though it was ornamented with trim, it was rather . . . plain. And though the furniture in the parlor was upholstered in the gayest of colors and even though it was gilded, it was not nearly as ornate as that in Polly’s room.

Aunt Rebekah was smiling at me.

I smiled back. “Why did thee leave?”

“Because I met Mr. Pennington, and I realized there were good people outside the Meeting too. People who had faith and felt it just as deeply. It didn’t seem right that they be condemned simply because they practiced their faith in the same God in a different manner.”

“It was the injustice of it all.”

“Yes. But mostly it was love. I left for love.” She looked at me for a long moment. “Now then, what about your own young man?”

I felt my brow furrow.

“I’m speaking of Jeremiah Jones. Though I suppose he’s not so young now, is he? He was terribly handsome as a young boy. Still is, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I don’t know that he’s . . . I didn’t think . . . I mean, he wasn’t . . . isn’t . . . a Friend.”

“And now you aren’t either.”

“I don’t know . . . without the Meeting. Who would approve the match?”

“Do you trust yourself to hear God’s voice?”

I nodded. I did. I’d recognized His voice back when I’d first heard it, though I hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“Then you don’t need anyone to tell you what you know in your heart already. I’ve decided we’re celebrating your coming to live with us tonight, and I took the liberty of inviting some guests to sup with us. Mr. Jones will be among them. If you would like to wear one of Polly’s gowns, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. And Jenny can help you dress.”

I thought back to the amaranth gown with fondness. But I wasn’t ready to wear it yet. It wasn’t a faith that I was leaving behind; it was the Meeting. Jeremiah would have to accept me as I was or not at all.

I donned my own plain gown with the help of Polly’s sister, Caroline. But as I walked from the bedroom, I thought the better of it and borrowed a neck kerchief of lace to tuck into my bodice.

Jeremiah was already in the parlor by the time I came downstairs with Polly. He rose as we entered and walked into the dining room with me.

“It’s kind of thee to come tonight.”

His smile brought a flush to my cheeks. It was only heightened when Aunt Rebekah seated him between herself and me.

“Your numbers seem depleted this evening.” His voice was low against the murmurs of other conversations.

But Aunt Rebekah was quick in her reply. “Hannah’s family has moved back to their home on Chestnut Street.”

We supped on turtle soup, roast duck, and boiled parsnips. And afterward, Polly played the harpsichord for us. Jeremiah was seated next to me.

When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “They escaped. At least all the men in Addison’s cell did. I don’t know about the others.”

I could not keep from smiling.

“But I have to ask you to go back to the jail on Saturday. One last time.” His eyes searched mine.

One last time? When I had hoped never to see that place again? “Why?”

“You must pretend you don’t know that your brother escaped.”

He hadn’t. “So thee want me to . . . ?”

“Go to the jail as if nothing has happened. Just the way you usually did.”

“Please don’t make me go back.”

The way he looked at me told me he understood. “You must. Just this one last time. And then it will all be over. I promise.” He took my hand in his as he said it.

I gripped it with my own.

As Polly began her second song, he spoke again. “Have you truly left your family?”

“Aye. And the Meeting as well. I couldn’t stay. Not after what I said.”

“I’m sorry.”

And the truth of it is, he was. I could see it in his eyes.

“I know what it means to be cast away from something you love.”

There was a look in his eyes that caused my heart to turn over upon itself. I dropped my gaze from his and tried to fasten my attentions on Polly’s concert. But the chords of my heart seemed to vibrate with a new awareness. What had once been forbidden was forbidden no longer. What I once despaired of having, could, quite possibly, become mine. I dared to look up at him again. “How did . . . what did thee do? When that happened?”

“I kept going on. I kept living. And eventually I found something else to love.”

Something else to love. I walked up the stair with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Jenny had arranged my things in the spare room so I slept that night on a true bed once more. My dreams were sweet and I woke with the echo of Polly’s songs in my head. I was actually bold enough to start humming one!

Everything was different. Everything that was old had fallen away. There were no calls to make and no Friends to visit. There were no letters to search out. There was nothing that had to be done. I would have to ask Aunt how it was for her. What she did as she waited for her new life to begin.

There were so many good things to look forward to.

When I went down to breakfast, only Aunt was there. She was finishing up her tea as I entered. “Hannah! Come. Sit. We can talk as you eat.”

Doll placed a plate before me.

“Now, then. We need to introduce you around the city as my niece. I would like to obtain invitations for you to all of the events that Polly is attending.”

“Thee should not feel obliged.”

“Society needs to understand your new position.”

“And what is that?”

“Let’s think of you as our ward. Mr. Pennington’s and mine. How would that be?”

I ate in silence for a while as I thought on it.

“You’re past the age for that, of course, but it will make it easier for everyone else to understand that you’re no longer a Friend. They’ll treat you as one of us now.”

“It’s not that I don’t generally agree with the Friends.”

“Of course not.”

“Or even that I don’t want to be one of them. I still would be if . . . well.”

Aunt Rebekah sighed. “That is exactly why it’s so complicated. And why it’s best to keep things plain.” She smiled as she said that, knowing, I suppose, that I would appreciate the irony.

“I can’t live my life as a lie.”

“I’m not asking you to lie. I’m just asking you to help people understand how to think of you now.”

Dare I speak of my dreams? Of my fondness for Jeremiah? Would it be presumptuous to think I might not have need of my aunt’s patronage for very long?