The Gifted (5 page)

“At least someone does.” The man took his arm from around Jessamine’s shoulder and grabbed hold of the front edge of the saddle. He put his foot in the stirrup and lifted himself up easily, but then once on the horse he slumped forward.

“This is not going to work. He will fall off before we go ten feet and then be injured worse than ever,” Sister Annie said.

The man grasped the horse’s mane and raised his head up. “Sensible sister Annie is right. My head won’t quit spinning. One of you best ride along with me.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Sister Annie?” Jessamine asked. “I have not.”

Sister Annie looked ready to drop the reins as she backed away from the horse. “You had never caught a horse either. Or touched a man’s face or done a dozen other things that you have done today. If one of us must ride, I suggest it be you. I have no desire to wrap my arms around a man of the world.”

“Even one as handsome as me?” the man said with a little laugh.

Sister Annie gave him a look through narrowed eyes. “So you know you’re handsome, but you don’t know your name.”

The man put his hand up to his face and felt across his nose and chin. “You have a point there, sensible Annie. As a matter of fact, my words may have been no more than wishful thinking, since I have no idea if my nose sits on my face straight or sideways.”

“I will ride with you.” Jessamine took the reins from Sister Annie. “But you’ll have to hold on until I can walk your horse to a stump to help me climb up behind you.”

She had to make two attempts from up on the stump, but at last she managed to throw her leg over the horse that had become quite passive with his master in the saddle. The horse moving under Jessamine’s seat felt very odd, and she thought it very likely she would simply slide off over its tail when it took a step forward. She tugged on her dress, but no way could she cover both her ankles with the way her skirt bunched up under her as she sat astride the horse.

Such an exposure of limbs was yet another sin she would have need to confess to Sister Sophrena. Sister Annie had a way of reporting the least thing whenever she accompanied Jessamine on a duty. So it would be best if Jessamine didn’t neglect to remember her lack of modesty in her confession of wrongs to Sister Sophrena even though the sturdy Shaker shoes and stockings hid every inch of skin. Oh, for the barefoot freedom of her young years.

“How do you stay on?” she asked as she shifted uneasily on the horse’s broad back. The man appeared to be well settled in the saddle in spite of his dizzy head and weakened state.

“Boots in the stirrups help,” he said even as he wobbled to the side a bit. She grabbed hold of his waistcoat to steady him, but it was more than obvious that if he continued to fall, she would have to turn him loose or be subject to following him to the ground.

“I think it might work better if you move in front of me,” he said. “That way I can hang onto you and conquer the dizziness, and you can hold onto the pommel of the saddle or my good horse’s mane. Your sensible sister can lead us along toward your village.”

Jessamine slid awkwardly off the horse but managed to land on her feet. It was easier climbing back on with the man helping her with his good arm. He scooted back in the saddle to make room, but there was no air between them. She was the same as sitting in his lap.

Sister Annie looked at her with eyes wide as saucers and a red blush warming her cheeks. “Are you sure you can ride thus, Sister Jessamine?”

Jessamine had no problem reading her thoughts. More sin to confess. “Yea, I think I am too tightly wedged into the saddle to fall off.”

“Your falling off was not my chief concern.” She raised her eyebrows at Jessamine.

“Yea, but our injured brother falling off is our chief concern. This does seem to be the best way.”

“Brother. Am I your brother?” The man wrapped his good arm around Jessamine and leaned against her back.

“All men are our brothers,” Jessamine said.

“That sounds like Bible talk. But I think I would much prefer you not be my sister.”

Jessamine didn’t know what to say to that, so she ignored his words and pointed Sister Annie in the direction of the village. She was relieved when the man said no more. She had enough confusion running through her mind from the feel of his body against her without the addition of words with uncertain meaning. As they made their way slowly through the trees, she told herself she was nothing more than a post the man was clinging to for support.

His body leaned more heavily against hers and she thought he might be losing consciousness. She sat strong and steady even after her shoulders began to ache under his weight. They would soon be in the village where she could give over the burden of the man to the brethren. She would seek out Sister Sophrena and confess the sin of touching the man. But she wouldn’t feel remorse even if Sister Sophrena told her she should. And she wouldn’t forget. The prince of her imagination had become a man of flesh and muscle and bone.

Then Sister Annie’s words from earlier whispered back through Jessamine’s mind.
This man of the world is no prince.

Journal Entry

Harmony Hill Village

Entered on this 12th day of June in the year 1849

by Sister Sophrena Prescott

My fears about allowing Sister Jessamine to go searching for raspberry vines in the woods turned out to be well founded. She and Sister Annie brought no berries home in their buckets. But they did bring back something. At near dark when I had all but given up on them and was ready to seek out Elder Joseph to see what would be best to do to find our lost sisters, they appeared out of the gloaming.

At first I thought it might be no more than a vision brought on by my worry. Sister Annie leading a horse when I know her fear of the large animals and Sister Jessamine astride that very horse with a man of the world wrapped as close to her as the shuck on an ear of corn. He was slumped, his head resting on her shoulder. It was plain to see by her pale face that his weight was a burden she struggled to bear as she leaned a bit forward over the horse’s neck to give the man better support. Her skirts were bunched up as she sat astride the horse with no way to maintain any sort of proper modesty.

I went out to meet them. I thought it best to hear at least part of their story before raising the cry for help. Sister Annie’s tears began spurting as soon as she saw me. Her cap was sitting askew and words begging forgiveness spilled out of her mouth. I touched her face and bade her be silent as I looked up at Sister Jessamine.

“He is injured,” she said. “His head and his arm. We knew naught else to do but bring him here. He cannot remember where he lives. Or even his name.”

She wore none of the ready guilt on her face like that showing so clearly on Sister Annie’s. Instead her eyes challenged me to find wrong in what she was doing. Not the first time I’ve seen that look in our sister’s eyes. She often stumbles over the tried-and-true rules handed down by the Ministry. Nay, more than stumbles. She does her best to step over them or run around them without consideration of how those very rules are what make our village and every village of Believers veritable paradises on earth.

I took the reins and sent Sister Annie for help as there were no other brothers or sisters on the road or pathways. All were in the upper rooms practicing their worship songs. I could hear the voices drifting down to where we stood on the road. In my worry, I had deliberately chosen to neglect my duty of gathering with my family. As it turned out, my concern for my little sisters was not alleviated by the sight of them coming home. New concerns surfaced.

The man raised his head to peer down at me, but the movement must have made him ill for he began retching. If I had not stepped back quickly, my dress would have been quite ruined. Not that such would matter. Dresses can be laundered. Sister Jessamine grasped his arm that was about her waist and somehow they managed to stay on the horse in spite of his heaves. The man mumbled something I could not properly hear but that might have been an apology for his sickness. Sister Jessamine kept her firm hold on his arm, and he dropped his head back on her shoulder as if it were a welcome respite.

When he seemed settled, I led the horse forward to a fresh spot on the road. It was a relief to see the brethren hurrying from the house and then Brother Benjamin was there directing us to the infirmary in the Centre House before the brethren tried to lift the stranger from the horse. Once in front of the building, the men took him down gently although he seemed to turn loose of Sister Jessamine with some reluctance. His left arm was bound to his chest by strips from her apron that were stained with blood.

Her collar too bore the evidence of the man’s blood. So even though I had many questions, I chose to wait to ask them until this day. I thought it better to send the young sisters to their rooms to clean themselves before the retiring bell rang and let confession of their wrongs wait for the morrow.

Sister Annie was waiting for me at first light. She told me in detail all that happened with no hesitation. Sister Jessamine will come to me later today to make her own confessions. She will tell a different story, but one that will seem as true to her. Her mind thinks differently. In spite of being with us for so many years, I fear that inside she remains the child who ran so free in her natural grandmother’s woods and knew nothing of the real world. All was a lark to her until the grandmother’s death. She still knows little of the world. For since that time she has lived among us where peace reigns and the evils of the world are shut away. Sometimes I think it might have been better if she had experienced more of the wickedness of the world as our Sister Annie has. Then she might feel more readiness to accept the Shaker way and mash down the curiosity that continually trips her up. We shall see what she has to say for herself.

The man they brought into the village remains a mystery. He claims to not know his name. Brother Benjamin reports that possible with a head injury. It appears he was shot and the bullet grazed the side of his head. Brother Benjamin says the lapse of memory was not caused by the bullet wound, but rather a blow to the back of the head. Brother Benjamin has set the man’s arm and dressed his wound, but says only the Eternal Father knows if or when the man might come to his senses. If we are unable to determine from whence he comes, Elder Joseph will send for the town’s sheriff. The gunshot wound is a worry. We have no desire to harbor a fugitive from the law.

4

Tristan Cooper had no idea where he was when he opened his eyes to see a wrinkled face peering down at him. Her white cap and collar pulled up a memory of beautiful blue eyes gazing down at him, but whatever beauty might have once shone in this woman’s face had long since surrendered to age.

Perhaps he had done no more than dreamed the other face. The very memory seemed to be drifting in the fog of his mind, untethered to any actual happening.

“Hello, young brother. Are you ready to return to the land of the living?” There was kindness in the old woman’s voice.

Brother. His lips tried to form the word to speak it aloud, but his mouth was too dry, and the sound he uttered made no sense even to his own ears. But her addressing him as brother brought the memory of the striking blue eyes sharper. It had not been a dream. One with those eyes had found him in the woods. They had ridden his horse to her village. Her name. She told him her name, but it hid in the murkiness of his mind. He could not call it forth.

He wondered if this woman leaning over him now could be her grandmother. Or great-grandmother. She looked ancient, and though the blue of her eyes was faded like the blue of a cloth washed and hung in the sun to dry on too many days, they might have once been the vivid blue of the girl’s eyes.