The Promise of Morning (3 page)

“You’re my oldest friend. I respect you. Nevertheless, I plan to oppose this. My sermon topic tomorrow will be on avoiding the evils of the world.”

Concern wrinkled Ben’s forehead. “If you preach against a Shakespeare play, you’ll just stir up trouble for yourself—and sound like a fool.”

“I don’t think so.” Matthew slung his coat over his shoulder and banged out the door.

When he stepped outside on Sunday morning, Matthew discovered the temperature had dropped below freezing overnight, turning the muddy farmyard into a sheet of ice. The clouds that blew in late Saturday afternoon now covered the sky. A brisk wind gusted from the southwest, bringing a threat of snow. Matthew harnessed Samson in haste and drove the spring wagon around to the hitching post at the front of the house.

He hurried up the porch steps and pushed open the door. “Ellie. Get the children ready quick as you can. It’ll take longer to get to church today and I want to be early.”

Maria clattered down from upstairs and grabbed his hand. “I’m all dressed, Papa.”

He looked her over. The buttons on her blue wool dress didn’t line up with the buttonholes, and her braids had loose blonde hairs sticking out of the plaits. “Didn’t Mama help you with your dress?”

“No, I did it all by myself while she took care of Julia.”

Matthew felt a pang at her eagerness to please. Dropping to one knee, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let Papa fix this.” His fingers moved down the row of small china buttons that marched from beneath her chin to her waist. Taking a second look at her braids, he decided they wouldn’t show under her bonnet. “You look very pretty.” He hugged her and kissed her cheek.

The twins emerged from the kitchen, followed by eleven-year-old Harrison. “Please help Maria with her cloak, then bundle yourselves and get in the wagon.” Matthew turned toward the stairs. “I’ll go up and hurry your mama along.”

When Ellie stepped onto the porch carrying Julia, Matthew tucked his Bible under one arm and offered a hand to assist her down the steps. She took one look at the ice-covered ground and planted her feet like a balky mule.

“We can’t take the baby out on a morning like this. What if the wagon upsets?”

“As long as I can see where we’re going, we’ll be fine.”

She frowned at him but inched down the stairs and allowed him to help her into the wagon.

Matthew climbed in next to her. “Cover Julia with your cloak. We’ll be there before you know it.”

The horse stepped carefully along the ice-covered road. As the two miles between farm and church rolled by, Matthew turned his mind back to his sermon. He’d been awake most of the night formulating points to lead his flock to the inevitable conclusion that plays were sinful and that they were to have nothing to do with people who performed in them.

Lulled by Samson’s rhythmic pacing, Matthew missed seeing an ice heave in the roadway. The horse stepped over it, but the wagon wheels slid sideways when they hit the frozen bump. Ellie screamed and clutched Julia to her chest.

Matthew gripped the reins and pulled hard as they swerved back and forth across the track. One of the back wheels caught in the shallow ditch beside the road. The wagon tipped, then righted itself with a thud that rattled the traces.

Heart pounding, he turned and looked at Ellie. Her mouth was pinched tight. Her eyes clearly said “I told you so.”

Matthew slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

She shrugged him off. “We’re almost there. Just go on.”

From his position on the raised platform, Matthew gazed over his congregation, pleased to see a good turnout in spite of the cold. Upturned faces, glowing in the warm yellow light, lifted their voices singing “A Charge to Keep I Have.” The candles lining the walls flickered with the movement in the room.

With one hand directing the music, Matthew sang the familiar hymn along with the standing worshipers. Part of his mind kept to the words while he checked the benches to see who might be missing. As he scanned the back row, his eyes were arrested by the appearance of a couple he’d never seen before. The man stood well over six feet tall. He was large in every way, without appearing to have the slightest measure of fat on his body.

The stranger wore a well-tailored suit, and his shirt front bore a cascade of ruffles over which draped a broad golden watch chain. The woman next to him wore stylish clothing but something seemed amiss in her posture. She looked like she had not completely unfolded when she stood to sing. He made a mental note to introduce himself before they left.

The hymn ended. Matthew knelt for opening prayers, enjoying as always the soft rustle in the room as the congregation knelt with him. He prayed long and earnestly for God’s anointing on his message. Standing, he resumed his place behind the pulpit.

“It has come to my attention that we are in grave danger of attack by Satan.” The people straightened on the benches. “My text today is, ‘If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.’ Ours has traditionally been a plain religion. We believe we are set apart so others may see and turn from their worldly ways.” Matthew raised his open Bible in one hand, its soft leather cover sagging over the sides of his palm. “We most definitely do not allow our children to attend dances or public entertainments. These amusements allow them to come in contact with unsavory individuals.”

He gestured in the direction of Ben Wolcott’s mercantile. “There’s a sign on the wall in the center of town. It’s an enticement to all who read it. I believe it is an open door to an attack by Satan.” Matthew raised his voice. “Do not offer him a foothold by falling under the spell of those who promise education in the guise of entertainment. You’ll be opening a door to the sort of people we don’t want in Beldon Grove.”

He glanced at the congregation to gauge their reaction. Some looked puzzled, others stone-faced, most were closely attentive. In the back, the stranger’s expression remained neutral, his eyes half closed, as though he were bored by the topic.

After lengthy exhortation, Matthew concluded, “I call on every one of you to take a stand for what is right. Turn your backs on this temptation. You have your Bibles. Read them.”

Every soul saved was a spiritual child to him. This room was filled with such children, people he had labored with in prayer through many long meetings. Clutching his Bible, Matthew sank to his knees, noting Ben Wolcott’s sorrowful expression as he did so. He averted his gaze.

“Let us pray for deliverance.”

When the closing hymn had been sung, Matthew walked to the back of the church to greet the visitors. When he stood next to the stranger, he felt power exude from the man. Here was someone who would automatically command attention when he entered a room. His trunklike legs strained at the fabric of his trousers. When Matthew put out his hand, it was engulfed by the bigger man’s.

“Name’s Marcus Beldon. This is my wife, Zilphah.”

He judged Marcus Beldon’s age to be somewhere near his own. Forties. Zilphah Beldon appeared older than her husband. Mousy brown ringlets dangled under her lavish bonnet. She extended a twisted hand to Matthew. “Please do not grip me firmly. I suffer from much pain in my extremities.”

Gently, he clasped her fingers. His impression from the pulpit had been correct. Standing, the woman was curled over as though a heavy burden rested on her back. “A pleasure, Mrs. Beldon.”

“Thank you.” Her icy tone matched the morning’s weather.

Stung by her dismissive manner, Matthew turned back to Marcus Beldon. Hazel eyes set beneath dark eyebrows accented the man’s clean-shaven face. A mass of salt-and-pepper black hair fell across his forehead and curled around his ears.

Ellie joined them carrying Julia. “My wife, Eleanor.” Matthew placed a possessive hand on her shoulder.

A spark lit Beldon’s eyes. He bent in a half-bow toward Ellie. “Mrs. Craig. You are clearly the mother of this beautiful child in your arms. She could have no other.”

Ellie blushed. Lifting her gaze to meet Marcus Beldon’s, she stammered her response. “This is our Julia. The other children are over by the stove.”

Beldon’s glance flicked across the room. “A handsome group, indeed.”

Matthew felt a stir of irritation at the man’s patronizing tone. “We’ve been blessed, sir. And yourselves? Are your youngsters not with you today?”

“Alas, we have neither chick nor child.” Beldon looked down at his wife. “My poor wife is barren.”

“Marcus!” Her cheeks turned a mottled red.

“It’s the plain truth, my dear. Let’s not prevaricate in the presence of the good preacher.”

Matthew realized he’d trod on hostile ground. To turn the conversation, he asked, “Is it a coincidence that you bear the same name as that of our community?”

“No coincidence at all.” The golden fobs on his watch chain glinted in the candlelight when Beldon replied. “My father Jeremiah founded this settlement before the Black Hawk War. At the time of the uprising, he thought it prudent to take his family back to Virginia.” He glanced down at his wife. “Now that things are more civilized here, Zilphah and I decided to return to the town which bears our name. A place where I can make my mark, so to speak.”

“Beldon Grove is a growing community. What skills do you bring us?”

“Marcus is a lawyer.” His wife answered for him in a nasal voice. “The town needs one, it would seem.”

“Besides reading law, I was educated at Harvard for the ministry.” Beldon threw his shoulders back, tucking his fingers into the front pockets of his trousers. “But it appears that job is filled.”

3

After the family finished Sunday supper, Ellie sat near the long plank table in the kitchen and rocked Julia. Overhead an oil lamp hummed, settling its warm light over her family.

Under the window, Maria and Aunt Ruby stood in front of an oiled wooden shelf. Aunt Ruby washed dishes in a tin basin and then handed dripping plates to Maria for drying. While they worked, Aunt Ruby kept up a running argument with Matthew about the Shakespeare play.

Only half listening, Ellie let her mind roam back to the newcomers at church that morning. His wife had said he was a lawyer. She wondered how long he’d stay in their small village. She recalled the spark that lit Marcus Beldon’s gaze when he looked at her. Warmth rose in her cheeks. Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking, she refocused her attention on her aunt’s comments.