The Work and the Glory (15 page)

Joshua pulled himself up and leaned heavily against the wall until the barn’s interior stopped whirling slowly around him. He stepped over Will Murdock, not much caring whether he waked him, then staggered outside, clamping his eyes shut against the bright sunshine. Still moving slowly, he tucked his shirt back into his pants and brushed at the straw on his trousers. Crawling between the rails of the corral fence, he shooed two horses away from the watering trough. They snorted and moved away, eyeing him warily. Ignoring them, he took their place and buried his head in the cold water, holding his fists against his eyes, trying to blot out the picture of his family—especially his father—waiting for him at home.

At eighteen years old, Lydia McBride was already fully aware of her beauty and the effect it had on men. So in spite of the grumbling of her father, she stood in front of the mirror to make sure everything was exactly as it should be.

Her mother, who had nearly died giving birth to Lydia and who had not been able to have any more children since, shamelessly doted on her only offspring. This dress, ordered special from one of New York City’s leading dress designers, had arrived the week before. Lydia felt a quick twinge of guilt, knowing what the dress had cost her father, but today was Easter Sunday, and her mother had brushed aside any protests. There was an unspoken competition developing among the mothers and daughters of Palmyra as the effect of the Erie Canal’s commerce began to be felt in the town. And Hannah Lovina Hurlburt McBride was not about to be bested in the competition.

As Lydia gave her hair one last brush, her mother stepped to the door. There was an audible gasp. “Oh, Lydia,” she breathed.

Lydia turned slowly, doing a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle for her mother’s benefit.

“It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect.”

“I love it, Mama. Thank you so much for getting it for me.”

“Hannah!” Josiah McBride’s voice bellowed up the stairs.

Hannah McBride moved to her daughter and fussed for a moment at the lace on the collar. Then she smoothed down the back of the dress and stepped back to look again, moving back and forth slightly with a critical eye. Finally she nodded. “You are so lovely, Lydia. It’s just perfect.”

“Hannah! Lydia!” Her father’s voice was much sharper now. “It is ten minutes to ten. We are going to be late.”

Lydia smiled. Most people found her father to be stern and humorless, but she knew that beneath his public exterior he was not nearly as gruff as he seemed. And he was only marginally behind his wife when it came to indulging and pampering his daughter. But Lydia also knew that his recent appointment as one of the ruling elders in the church had been a thing of great importance to him and that it was wise not to push him on this matter.

“Coming, Papa,” she called. Her mother handed her the parasol and white gloves and they started down the stairs.

Joshua moved slowly along Main Street in Palmyra Village. He still walked slowly and placed his feet on the boardwalk gingerly, but he felt considerably better. The plunge in the watering trough had helped somewhat, but to his surprise, as he had approached Church Street, he noticed two horses and a wagon pulled up in front of Asa Lilly’s tavern, where he used the last of his money to nurse his way through two cups of very strong and bitter coffee. The girl who served him, a plump seventeen-year-old who constantly giggled when he looked at her, offered him a brush and a mirror as well, and when he walked out he was considerably more presentable than when he entered.

He moved slowly, enjoying the warmth of the spring sunshine on his back. One part of him urged him to stride out, getting home as quickly as possible so as not to add to his already troubled situation. Another part of him lagged back, postponing the inevitable clash which lay before him.

The sound of a buckboard driving by brought him around. A man, woman, and three children, all dressed in Sunday best, looked him up and down as they passed. The mother looked away quickly as Joshua caught her eye, the faint look of distaste evident on her face. Only the youngest girl, a cherub-cheeked three-year-old, waved happily to him. The family looked vaguely familiar, and he supposed he had seen her at the supper the previous evening.

Now Joshua noted there were others moving along the street as well, both on his side and the other. All were dressed in their best finery, and he suddenly remembered this was Sunday. Easter Sunday. A block and a half ahead of him he could see a dozen or more buckboards and carriages pulled up in front of the Presbyterian church.

He stopped. Josiah McBride was an elder in the Presbyterian church. Certainly he wouldn’t miss Sunday morning services. Perhaps they hadn’t left yet and he could get a glimpse of Lydia. The image of Lydia surrounded by other young men flashed into his mind and he expelled air with a short burst of derision. Only fools were blind to reality. It was time to put fantasy aside. The tavern keeper’s daughter, the one who had served him coffee a few minutes earlier—now there was realism. Not some beauty who was the daughter of one of Palmyra’s most respected citizens.

But in spite of himself, Joshua turned and moved slowly back up the street until he stood a few doors down and across from the McBride home and store. He leaned against a post, hoping the shade of the overhang would keep him from being too conspicuous. The door to the McBride store and home was closed. He turned around and looked at the clock in the store window behind him. It showed eight minutes to ten o’clock. Services must begin at ten, he decided.

He shook his head. Being one of the ruling elders in the church, McBride would probably be one of the first ones there, which meant Lydia was at this very moment already sitting in the McBride family pew inside the church. Across the street another couple hurried quickly along, their four children in tow behind them.

Disgusted with himself, Joshua turned to go. But at that moment a sound from across the street swung him back around. He felt a quick catch of breath. Lydia McBride and her mother had just come out of the front door of the store. Both were wearing long dresses puffed out with petticoats, but Joshua had eyes only for Lydia. Her dress was of a soft blue with sleeves down to the wrist. A lace bodice was matched by lace trim around the collar and sleeves. Once again she carried a parasol which matched her dress, and she also wore a white knitted shawl across her shoulders. Even at twenty or thirty rods’ distance, her dark hair glistened beneath the small hat she wore, and the sight of her took his breath away a little.

She nodded and smiled at the passing family, and Joshua heard the soft murmur of her voice float across to him on the still morning air. He couldn’t help himself. He just stood and stared, feeling the odd mixture of excitement and panic welling up in him again. He took a step forward, then moved back quickly into the shadows. Josiah McBride had followed his wife and daughter out of the store. He turned to lock the door, then took his wife by the arm.

“Come on,” he said, the irritation in his voice clearly evident even at this distance, “we’re going to be late.”

When they stepped out into the bright sunshine, Lydia had to blink quickly to adjust her eyes to the light. It was a glorious Easter morning. She nodded and spoke to the Baxters, noting with pleasure the sudden widening of the eyes as Mrs. Baxter saw her dress.
Let them covet,
she thought happily.
Let them all covet.

As they started up the street, Lydia saw they were indeed the last of the people moving toward the church. She gave a quick toss of her head, not displeased with the knowledge that all eyes would be turned to them as they entered the church.

A figure standing in the shadows caught her eye. She started, peering more closely. It was Joshua Steed. Lydia instantly glanced at her father and mother to see if they had noticed. They hadn’t. Her father had his arm through his wife’s and was striding along with determination. She fell back a step and let her hand stir in a small wave.

She saw his hand start to lift, then it fell immediately when her father glanced back at her. “Come, Lydia, do keep up.”

She nodded and hastened her step a little, but still hung back a pace from her parents. There was a sudden stir of excitement as she saw out of the corner of her eye that Joshua had started to move now too, lagging back a little so as to be out of her parents’ peripheral vision, but matching his pace with theirs.

Her mind went back to the night before. Even from a distance she had seen the longing in Joshua’s eyes. Did she have the power to draw him over, even though it was obvious his courage was wavering? She had enjoyed tantalizing him a little, testing her attractive pull. But he had not come, and when she had turned back after a time, he was gone. He had not re-appeared for the rest of the night, and it had surprised her how sharply the pang of disappointment had cut her.

So far her parents suspected nothing concerning her interest in this muscular young man who had moved into Palmyra Township the previous fall. Taken aback, Lydia considered her own choice of words. Interest? Was that what she was feeling for Joshua Steed? She had well over a dozen young men who fawned over her, some from the finest families in the village. Lydia had become quite bored with it all—bored with the endless matchmaking attempts by hungry mothers, bored with the effortlessness with which she could turn heads.

But Joshua Steed was different. Oh, there was no mistaking the fact he had been smitten. When he had first come into the store and stopped dead, the stunned wonder at her so evident in his eyes, it made her laugh inwardly in complete delight. Yes, her power over him was there, but it had not knocked him off balance. And she liked that. Joshua had not joined the circle of hovering males. Instead he had walked away.

If she had been completely honest with herself, Lydia would also have acknowledged that part of the intrigue with Joshua Steed was the instinctive sense that her parents would absolutely disapprove of any relationship with him. Her mother had high hopes for a marriage of appropriate status for her only daughter. On the other hand, eighteen years of being an only child had left Lydia strong minded, strong willed, and totally, irrevocably determined that no one, not even her mother and father, would make the determination of whom she was to marry.

Lydia stopped. “Oh, Papa,” she exclaimed. “I forgot a hand-kerchief.”

Her father whirled, exasperated. “Lydia, we are late for church. You’ll have to do without.”

“Father, I must have a handkerchief.”

Hannah McBride turned, a little annoyed herself. “I laid one out for you, Lydia.”

“I know, Mama, but I must have left it there.” She pushed the hanky deeper into the pocket of her dress, then pulled the corners of her mouth down. “You know I always cry on Easter Sunday, Mama. I must have a handkerchief.”

Mrs. McBride turned to her husband. “She does need a handkerchief, Josiah.”

Lydia was all contrition. “You go on ahead, I won’t be long.”

Josiah McBride threw up his hands in disgust. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys, then thrust them at her. “You hurry now. I don’t want you making a grand entrance after the parson has started his sermon.”

“It will only take a moment,” Lydia called back over her shoulder.

From across the street Joshua had stopped to watch, not hearing the conversation clearly but sensing it had to do with Lydia’s seeing him. Not daring to hope, he watched as Lydia hurried back to the store and unlocked the door. But as she opened it, his heart leaped. She was looking directly at him, motioning quickly with her hand for him to come across the street. Then she stepped inside.

All thoughts of headache and hangover instantly banished, Joshua crossed the street swiftly and approached the store. The door to the store was now nearly closed and there was no sign of her. He stopped, confused. Had he misread her signal? Then came a whispered voice. “Not here, Joshua. Come around to the back of the store. Go up between the saddlery and McIntyre’s pharmacy. I’ll be at the window.”

By the time he had made his way between the two buildings, then to the back of the frame structure which housed the McBride residence and store, Joshua found himself filled with a growing excitement. And yet it was mixed with a faint irritation as well. The memory of the previous evening was still painfully sharp in his mind. He slowed his step, suddenly not wanting to appear too eager.

The window opened and Lydia leaned out. “Joshua. What are you doing in town?”

There was no missing the breathless excitement in her voice, and suddenly any irritation in Joshua vanished. She was genuinely glad to see him. He shrugged. “I stayed over last night. I’m just on my way home now.”

“What happened to you? I looked for you after the supper.”

“I was there, but you already had a lot of people there with you.” He had almost said “young men” but quickly substituted “people” instead.

She brushed it aside with an impatient shake of her head. “That’s partially my father’s doing. He’s convinced it’s time for me to marry, and he keeps dropping invitations to what he thinks are eligible suitors.”

She looked down swiftly, blushing. “I kept hoping you would come over too.”

“I…” He let it trail off, not sure what to answer.

“I saw you standing over beyond the fire, but when I finally got a chance to walk over there, you were gone. I saw your family, but I couldn’t find you.”

Joshua felt a quick stab of regret. He had left in frustration, and missed the very solution to his frustration. But if she had really come looking for him, that meant something, didn’t it?

She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm. “Joshua, I must go. My father will be furious if I’m late.”

He nodded. “Thank you for coming back.”

She squeezed his arm. “I wanted to see you.”

He felt his heart leap. “I wanted to see you too.”

Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she leaned even a little further out the window, lowering her voice. “Joshua, I wish you hadn’t gone.” She stopped, a little taken aback by her own forwardness, then rushed on. “I like you, Joshua.”