Death of a Winter Shaker (16 page)

“It's nothing,” Rose said. “I only wanted to see how you are.”

Those sunken eyes bored through Rose. “Even during the worst of times,” Agatha said sternly, “you never felt it necessary to lie to me. I do not fear death, I welcome it. But not just yet. In the meantime, I expect you to treat me as you always have, with honesty.”

Rose smiled. “You have made yourself abundantly clear, my friend,” she said. And she told Agatha what she had learned about the killing of Johann Fredericks, the reactions of the suspects, and Wilhelm's control over Elsa.

“Well,” said Agatha, when Rose had finished. “I see that we have some work to do. I will speak to Wilhelm during lunch, and you must join us.”

“He will interpret my presence as favoritism on your part.”

“Perhaps.”

“It will only make him more determined to send me away.”

“As long as I am alive, you stay here. And after I am gone, I am confident the Lead Ministry will see the wisdom of making you eldress.”

All Rose truly wanted was for everything to stay as it was, herself as trustee, not eldress, not gatherer of new souls. She wanted Agatha always to be there. In her own way, she was as loath to change as Wilhelm.

“Are you sure you feel well enough to confront Wilhelm?”

“My dear,” Agatha said, smiling gently, “what strength I possess comes from God, and it grows as my body weakens. He has always given me what I needed
to do what I must. You will find the same to be true when you are eldress. Now,” she said before Rose could respond, “go about your other business. Come collect me at noon. I'll rest until then.” She leaned back in her rocking chair and closed her eyes. Rose took the teacup from her lap and placed it on the table next to her, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. Her skin felt cool and smooth and comforting.

“Oh, Rose,
must
I work in the kitchen again? You don't understand how awful it is, with Charity and Elsa fighting all the time.” It wasn't like Gennie to pout and whine, but she couldn't help it. It was just too unfair.

“It's only for a day, and Elsa won't be there,” Rose said with more sternness than she normally used with Gennie. “And Molly will be with you. Where is Molly, by the way?”

“Um, well, she missed breakfast today. It
is
Sunday, you know, and we weren't supposed to have to work, and anyway Molly says she doesn't need breakfast.” She didn't mention that her roommate still slept, exhausted and nursing a swollen eye. She also hadn't told Rose about Molly's stock of beauty items or about her own midnight adventure in the old cemetery. She ought to tell, but Molly made her promise. She said she'd use makeup to cover the bruises and everything would be fine.

“Everyone needs breakfast,” Rose said. “And we often have to work on Sunday, young lady, so I don't want to hear any more complaining.”

Gennie sighed. “I know, I'm sorry. It's only that I dislike the kitchen, and I always seem to end up there.”

“You will be in the Herb House by this time tomorrow!” Rose laughed and hugged Gennie's drooping shoulders. “Maybe I do call on you to help out more than some of the other girls. But it's because I know I can count on you.”

Gennie flushed with pleasure, mixed with guilt.

“Run and get that lazy Molly out of bed now,” Rose said. “If you work fast, you may both take a break to go to the public worship service, though you will have to slip out early to help Charity prepare the evening meal.” She smiled and gave Gennie an affectionate push.

Gennie returned the smile with a feeble one of her own and headed for the Children's Dwelling House, her mind in turmoil. Protecting Molly grew less simple and more costly with each new episode.

“Why does she have to get into so much trouble?” Gennie grumbled to herself.

She stomped up the staircase and burst open the door without knocking, ready to rip the covers off her sleeping roommate. Since all other residents of the house would be at morning worship, she tossed the door shut behind her and enjoyed the bang it made.

The room was empty. Her roommate's bed, where Molly had mumbled that she planned to stay until noon, was neatly made and empty. Her cloak no longer hung on its peg.

“She's gone off
again!
” Gennie said aloud. “Well, I'm not going to look for her, not this time. She can just get into trouble.” She turned to leave, then hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. She craned her head around to Molly's bed. It looked as it had the day before, no lumpier, but Gennie ached to take one more peek under the mattress.

Within seconds she had raced to Molly's bed and yanked up the mattress. What she saw brought her to her knees with excitement. Two items had joined the others: a shiny, gold, face-powder compact and an envelope, smudged with dirty stains. Ignoring the compact, she picked up the envelope and turned it over. The gum seal had been broken. With a shaking finger, Gennie lifted the flap and peeked inside. Shaker children had little need for money, but she certainly recognized it when she saw it. A thick wad of it. She
pulled the bills out of the envelope and flipped through them. It was all in ones and fives, and there must have been at least $100. She fanned the crisp bills out in her hand, awed by the feel of them. Where would a seventeen-year-old Shaker girl get such a fortune? When a boy or girl decided to leave the Society, the Believers often gave them some money to help them get started, but Molly was still too young for that.

Too late, Gennie heard the door click. She looked over her handful of bills to see Molly framed in the doorway.

“You! You're the one been messin' with my stuff!” She slammed the door behind her.

Gennie lost her balance and slid to the floor, loosening her grip on the money. A clump of green bills fluttered around her, and Molly skidded to her knees to scoop them up.

“Gimme those,” she said, and grabbed the batch still clutched in Gennie's hand. Dragging her hand between her mattress and the pad underneath, Molly raked out all her shiny prizes and shoved them, along with the money, into the pockets of her dress.

Gennie jumped to her feet and stood over Molly.

“Where did you get that money? You'd better tell me, I mean it.”

“You can't have it, it's mine, and I'm gonna hide it where you ain't never gonna find it. You're supposed to be my friend!”

“I am your friend, and I don't want any of that money,” Gennie said with exasperation. “I just want to know what you've gotten yourself into. This isn't right. It isn't right for you to have all these things. And all that money! That's where you were last night, isn't it? You were meeting someone who gave you that money. Is that the person who hit you?
What's going on?”

“Everyone's against me, even you! I thought you was different, but you're just like all of them. You don't
know what it's like to really want things, to want things so bad you dream about them at night, and you feel like you'd do anything for someone who'd get them for you.” Molly's dusky eyes flashed with the intensity of her desire and with something more, maybe fear. Her hands clutched at the deep pockets of her work dress, which held the treasures worth so much to her.

“Molly, you're in trouble, aren't you? Let us help you. Rose can. Come on, let's go talk to her.” Gennie reached out her hand and touched Molly's sleeve.

Molly yanked her arm back. “You just want my stuff. You and Rose and all of you can just mind your own business.” She whirled around and grabbed her heavy cloak off a wall peg. Throwing it around her shoulders, she flew out the door.

“Wait! Molly, please wait!” Gennie raced after her, but Molly's long legs hurtled her down the stairs as fast as they could, her cloak billowing around her. She did not look back. By the time Gennie ran out the front door, she saw Molly round the corner of the building and head toward the Water House.

Charity had the kitchen barely under control when Gennie arrived. The kitchen deaconess had chosen a simple menu of soup and bread, and two young girls flew back and forth through the connecting door to the dining room, carrying crockery and napkins. Judging by the small stature of the girls, Gennie knew she would be carrying the soup tureens. She would have sore arms again by evening. Why did she have to do all the work around here? She tore off her cloak and flung it carelessly on a peg.

“Where's Molly?” Charity asked, looking up from her soup kettle.

Gennie shrugged. If she didn't actually say anything, maybe a shrug wouldn't count as a lie. She walked over and smelled the soup, a spicy cream of squash.

“Taste it for me,” Charity said, handing Gennie a
spoon. “I can't seem to taste much these days. Honestly, I don't know what is happening to us lately. Where can Molly be?”

Gennie chose that moment to sip. “More ginger,” she said.

“How can I be expected to run the kitchen without adequate help?” Charity complained, reaching for the ginger jar. “Well, I will, that's all. I don't need Elsa.”

“What can I do?” Gennie asked.

“Oh, have the girls finished setting the tables? Well, it doesn't matter. Just set up the tureens on the table, then we'll—oh my, is that the brethren arriving? Quickly, carry out the bread. They'll have to cut it themselves. Nay, first move the tureens over here, then deliver the bread.”

Gennie arranged the tureens, then grabbed two plates holding loaves of heavy, dark bread and pushed through the door to the dining room, as the sisters and brethren filed silently through their separate doors and seated themselves on benches on opposite sides of the room. On her third trip out, she clattered a plate in front of a young man with straight brown hair, wearing a blue flannel shirt. She steadied the plate, whispering an apology, and looked into the smiling, blue eyes of Grady O'Neal.

“I see no reason why a trustee should be here,” Wilhelm said, without looking at Rose. “This is the Ministry dining room. If we must hold a business meeting, we can do so at the Trustees' Office.”

“I require her presence, Wilhelm,” Eldress Agatha said.

The three Believers grew silent as a young sister brought in a tureen of soup. She placed it near Rose, who filled Agatha's bowl and then her own. Rose watched as Wilhelm ladled the steamy, orange liquid into his bowl. He sat directly across from Agatha at the new trestle table which Albert Preston had created for
the two of them. The table was long enough for several additional diners, in case the Society should grow again and have need of a larger Ministry for several separate Shaker families, or groups of Believers living together.

Rose looked around her. The Ministry dining room, a reduced version of the Center Family House dining room, felt cozy and warm. It sparkled from regular cleaning and the bright light from the large windows. Wooden pegs, mostly empty, rimmed the wall, as they did in all other rooms. Wilhelm's straw hat hung on a peg on one side, and Agatha's heavy, outdoor bonnet hung on the other. The eldress rarely used that bonnet anymore.

In this room, the Ministry discussed the spiritual direction of North Homage, unrestricted by the silence and strict separation of the sexes imposed on the larger dining room. Rose had never eaten in the room before, and the significance of her being there now was plain. The ailing Agatha wanted Rose to succeed her as eldress. Torn by conflicting feelings about Agatha's desire, Rose wished the meeting could have taken place in the Trustees' Office. That was her home territory, where she felt in command and at ease. She loved being a trustee, enjoyed watching over the day-to-day existence of her community, keeping the books, doing business with the world. It suited her. If she were eldress, she would feel isolated and more responsible for spiritual decisions that came uneasily to her practical nature. And Wilhelm would be her partner in this enterprise.

“Now then, Wilhelm,” Agatha said, when the young sister had withdrawn to the small Ministry kitchen, “I understand that you released Elsa from kitchen duty for an entire morning of solitary prayer.” Her voice was firm and strong, and only Rose guessed what the effort must cost her.

Wilhelm broke off a piece of bread and let the crumbs fall into his soup. “And what is thy objection to prayer, eldress?” he asked.

“Work is prayer, too. What kind of prayer is it that requires a sister to leave her work undone?” Agatha snapped. “Worse yet, what kind of sister leaves another to do her work while she wanders off to pray alone?”

“It was necessary.”

“The sisters are my concern. I will decide what is necessary for them.” Agatha slapped her thin, white hand flat on the table in a gesture of angry authority. The tremor was hardly noticeable. Agatha was drawing upon reserves of strength that would soon be gone.

The expression on Wilhelm's face moved swiftly from surprised to irritated to conciliatory. He carefully placed his utensils on the table and leaned toward the eldress.

“I wish that I could make thee understand,” he said. “What I do is for the good of the Society. Agatha, we are dying. Surely I don't need to tell thee how weakened we have become. We have dwindled to only thirty Believers, many growing too old to work.” He raked a hand through his thick white hair and slumped back. “What few new Believers join us usually leave within a year or two. Most newcomers are no more than Winter Shakers, at the worst they are liars and fornicators, like that Fredericks man. The few children we bring up leave as soon as they are able. The fire is gone, Agatha, it has gone out, and we must relight it. We
must.
And we can do that only if we withdraw from the world. We must remember who we are, who we were at our strongest.” Wilhelm tightened his hand into a fist and held it in the air between himself and the eldress.

“We have discussed this before, Wilhelm,” Agatha said. “You know my views. Our strength has always been our adaptability, our ability to accept God's will for us. The world is changing, but it still needs us, I believe that. But the world will only accept our
guidance if they respect us. All this traveling back in time to old Shaker dress and speech and ways of behaving, it makes us seem strange, even frightening. I've gone along with it so far because, well, I suppose because it's how I was brought up and part of me yearns to be young again. But I cannot allow you to take charge of the sisters, nay, that is going too far, Wilhelm. Elsa must be returned to my care at once.”