Honor Read online

  Without showing any, she accepted his help. On the ground, she paused, gazing around her. Again he was hit by the fact that he’d brought a Maryland lady to live in a cabin in the wilderness.

  “Samuel, please will thee and Judah bring the trunks and boxes inside? Then the kitchen boxes to that building so we can be working while thee two set up thy workshop.”

  He nodded.

  His wife marched toward the two-room log cabin and opened the door. The day before, Samuel and Judah had driven out with the new furniture, swept the buildings clear of cobwebs and dust, and cleaned the windows.

  Over the past weeks, Samuel had insisted on paying Judah for protecting Royale whenever they had to leave her alone at the inn. And when the man had offered to help him set up his glassworks and new home, Samuel had promised to pay him for that as well. Judah had begun to learn signs too, so Samuel could work with him. It was good to have a man along.

  That idea startled Samuel. He couldn’t recall any men except for his father and brother whom he’d wanted working beside him. But Judah was quiet and efficient. Samuel realized with surprise that he liked Judah. This prompted another thought that caused him to hurry after Honor. He caught her elbow.

  She turned, a question on her face.

  “Do you think Judah would work for us?”

  “As a handyman?” she asked.

  “No.” He thought of laboring alone in his glassworks. “He could work as my apprentice. I will need help in the shop.”

  A smile lit Honor’s face. “An excellent idea. Shall I ask him?”

  Samuel nodded. “We’ll make a room for him in the barn for now—if he wants the job.”

  Honor turned and waved to Judah. She offered him the job, then signed his reply: “I don’t know if I can be a glassblower, but I will do my best, sir.” Judah was beaming, shaking Samuel’s hand, and thanking him.

  Samuel felt a sudden joy. He’d always thought he’d prefer to work on his own. But now he realized not only that he was unable to do his best work alone but also that he didn’t want to.

  Pondering this new development, Honor directed Royale and Perlie as the three began unpacking the household items. They would start in the main cabin and help Perlie set up the kitchen next, which would also be the living quarters for her and Royale.

  Samuel’s job offer for Judah cheered Honor more and more, and she noticed it put a smile on Royale’s face too. Honor drew in the clean, pine-scented air. She sent a prayer, thanking God for bringing them out of the city yet not too far. She had Royale and Perlie for company, after all, and Royale would be well protected with two men at hand.

  The only thing that didn’t please Honor was that Royale, Perlie, and Judah had insisted that they eat in the kitchen, separate from the Cathwells. They feared the potential backlash from those who lived nearby. Blacks and whites did not sit at the same table, and Royale and Perlie were paid as servants. Certainly the neighbor’s comment today about their servants keeping to themselves proved that Royale had been right.

  Yet Honor would make this place home. And perhaps here she and Samuel could become a true husband and wife. The last thought wavered inside her. All they’d gone through had shown her that Samuel was a man of character, in spite of his faults. Misunderstandings and disagreements stood between them, but as she considered his honest and kind nature, a new tenderness drew her to him.

  At sunset Samuel gazed around their cabin—now filled with their possessions, even the clock from his mother’s kitchen—and knelt to bank the fire low for the night. Eli had insisted upon sleeping with Royale in the large bed at the rear of the kitchen instead of his pallet in the loft above their room. That left Samuel and his wife alone for the first time since their wedding almost two months ago. He didn’t know where to look because everywhere he glanced, he saw his wife.

  His mind went over every time she had reached for him during the past weeks. She had sought comfort from him when Royale and Eli were missing and again at the trial. And she always let others know his deafness didn’t make him less than other men. She included him in every conversation. All of this was encouraging, but would she welcome his advances?

  In her nightdress already, Honor was blowing out the extra candles. He followed her every move with his gaze, unable to look away. Then she carried one taper into their bedroom. He finished with the fire and rose, dusting off his hands. The faint glow from the candle drew him toward the bedroom. Along with the fact that his wife was waiting for him in a soft, white flannel gown.

  When Samuel entered the bedroom, he found his wife sitting up in bed, reading her Bible. His mouth went dry. In the shadows he shed his day clothing, hanging each piece carefully on the pegs by the door. His heart was thumping in an odd gait. He pulled on his nightshirt and slipped into the far side of the bed. His wife’s gaze never left the page she was reading.

  Then he noticed that the Bible trembled ever so slightly in her hand. Did she fear him? He wanted to tell her he would never hurt her. He tried to tally his feelings for her. Did he love her? I need her. That, of course, was not the same, not enough to justify taking her into his arms. Or was it?

  She closed her Bible and turned to him. “Good night, Samuel.”

  He responded in kind. Honor blew out the candle and slid farther under the covers. His heart began thumping harder and more unevenly. He could not make himself move closer to her. She can’t want me.

  Then he felt Honor take his hand. He imagined folding her into his embrace, kissing her. But the fear of her rejection held him in place. He pictured her pulling away and how that would cut into him. He could barely breathe. She must make the first move.

  NOVEMBER 9, 1819

  After a long, sleepless night, Honor sat at the breakfast table. Their first night alone as man and wife had been an agony of indecision and rejection. She could barely look at Samuel. What did she know about the secrets of the marriage bed? She was the wife. The man must act first, not the woman.

  “Hello the house!” An unfamiliar man’s voice called the greeting outside their door.

  Honor rose from the table, signing to Samuel that they had visitors. Stepping outside with Samuel and Eli behind her, she saw that a wagon filled with strangers—a man, a woman, and six children—had arrived at her door. What did they want? “How may I help thee?”

  Her question seemed to make the man and woman mute.

  “May I help thee?” she repeated.

  “You’re Quaker,” said the man, who looked to be in his thirties.

  “I am.” Honor waited.

  “Is your husband the glassblower that’s deaf?” the man asked, taking off his hat politely. “The one whose nephew got kidnapped?”

  Honor sensed something wrong. The woman, her face hidden by a ragged poke bonnet, sat with her head bowed, and the children stared at Honor. “Yes, he is.”

  “Is that him?” the man asked, staring at Samuel. “He looks normal.”

  “He is normal,” Honor snapped. “He just can’t hear due to a childhood fever.”

  “I see,” the man said, setting his battered hat on the wagon brake.

  This blunt man strained her politeness. Why were they here? Honor wished they would get to the point. But one couldn’t demand people to state their business or leave.

  “When his nephew was kidnapped and all, we read stories in the paper about him and his being a glassblower and how he talks with his hands.” The stranger watched as Honor signed this to Samuel. Honor knew that Sinclair Hewitt had written articles about them during the kidnapping and trial.

  The man motioned toward the woman beside him. “See how she does that with her fingers?” he said. “It’s clever.” Then he turned back to Honor. “I just married this widow, and together we’ll have five children, my three daughters and her two sons.”

  Honor looked and saw that there were six children, all who looked to be twelve years and under. So why had the man said they had five children together?

  “My son
,” the woman said in a low voice, not looking up, “also suffered a severe fever early this year. It took his hearing as well. And robbed me of my husband, too.” The woman pressed a hand over her mouth.

  Struck with sympathy, Honor signed this to Samuel and said aloud, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The woman looked as if she was about to begin weeping. Honor thought she might know why they had come. “Did thee want to learn sign language?”

  “No, we want to give her son to you,” the man said. “I’ll keep her other sons. They can hear. But I don’t want a deaf kid. I told her I’d marry her, but I won’t take the boy.”

  Honor could hardly believe what she was hearing. She swallowed twice before she could speak. “I beg thy pardon. Thee won’t take her deaf son?”

  “No, it’s not safe to have a kid around that can’t hear,” the man said. “Besides, people will think he’s strange, that we got bad blood. And we’re on our way farther west. I’m looking for land in Illinois. I hear the soil’s better there, and no trees to clear before plowing.”

  The widow was wringing her hands and weeping silently. She muttered, “I don’t want to leave him, but what can I do? I had to marry again. I have myself and two other children to think of. We have nothing.” She turned, revealing the suffering in her face, which implored Honor’s understanding.

  Honor was shocked into silence. She could barely move her fingers to sign the gist of the conversation to Samuel.

  Sitting high in Samuel’s arms, Eli watched, looking confused. He pushed to be released, and Samuel let him down.

  “Well, will you take him?” the man demanded with obvious frustration. “You can teach him how to do those signs with his hands, and maybe he can learn your man’s trade. We can’t tarry. We got to drive back to Cincinnati now in good time to make it to our boat.”

  As Honor signed these words, Samuel gripped his fists as if to keep from attacking the man. He signed to her, “This man is asking us to take in his wife’s son like a stray dog?”

  Honor responded urgently. “We must take this child. If we don’t, this man might abandon him somewhere. We can’t let that happen.”

  Samuel nodded, still clenching and unclenching his fists. “Tell him we will keep the child.”

  Honor translated this, and the woman began to sob openly.

  The man got down and lifted one of the boys from the rear of the wagon, pushing him toward Samuel, then turned to climb back on the wagon.

  “What is his name?” Honor asked over the woman’s sobbing, her heart racing. This was all happening too quickly.

  “Caleb. His name is Caleb Mason,” the man said. “His father was John Caleb Mason.” Regaining his place on the wagon, the man tried to prevent his wife from getting down. But she leapt to the ground.

  She dropped to her knees and clasped the child to her, weeping. “Please, Thomas, isn’t there any way—?”

  “We agreed before we went to the preacher. I need a wife. You need a husband. But I can’t do anything for Caleb. These people can. I know it’s hard. But it’s for his best too.”

  She continued to sob, holding Caleb tightly. The boy looked to be nearly eight. He was thin with brown hair and eyes and dressed in ragged clothing. His expression mixed fear and confusion.

  Slowly his mother regained her composure. She turned to Honor, rising. “When Caleb is able to understand you, please explain to him. I can see you’re good people. I got the newspaper saved. When we get settled, I’ll write to you so I can keep in touch with my son.”

  Honor didn’t know what to say. They were going to leave this boy here with them. How would she explain this to a child who didn’t hear and hadn’t learned to sign? Panic fluttered to life within her.

  She moved forward with the woman, who let her husband pull her up onto the wagon. “Is thee sure this is what thee wants to do? Stay with us and learn to sign, and then—”

  “I can’t have a deaf kid,” the man said without a hint of apology. “People will think we’re odd. Treat us as peculiar. I can’t do it.”

  Honor tried to think of an argument, a persuasion. Judah had come out of the kitchen and was heading toward them.

  “Much obliged. She’ll write!” The man slapped the reins, backed up the team, and made a wide turn in front of the barn.

  One little boy sitting in the back of the wagon cried out, “No—don’t leave Caleb! No, Ma! No!”

  Caleb screamed, “No!” He ran after the wagon. “No! Ma! Chad! Seth! Ma!” he wailed in a strange-sounding voice as he ran.

  Lifting her hem, Honor ran after the child, his screams going through her like icy needles. Dear God, help!

  The man sped up the team, shaking them off.

  Finally, farther down the track, both Caleb and she gave up the chase. The little boy collapsed on the ground, facedown, shaking, sobbing.

  Honor dropped to her knees. She didn’t know whether to comfort him or just sit and wait for him to exhaust himself. What had just taken place in this quiet setting had shaken her to the core. Sympathetic tears coursed down her face. After her father had died, she’d felt like this child in a way.

  And now she feared in some tight place in her heart that Samuel might never accept her as his wife. It was irrational, she knew, but it was real. This boy’s anguish and rejection were hers. She swallowed her own sobs.

  Eli came near and sank to his knees on the other side of the boy. He too looked bewildered. Samuel and Judah joined them, standing over Caleb.

  Samuel touched her shoulder but made no sign.

  She pressed her hand over his. Why did he only touch her when she needed comfort? Still she touched her cheek to his hand. What were they going to do?

  Honor looked up at Samuel and saw in his eyes that he was suffering along with this child. She nodded and signed, “This is Caleb.”

  Finally the boy lay still. Eli touched him. Caleb turned his head toward Eli. Eli pointed to himself and, with his chubby little fingers, signed and said, “I am Eli.”

  Honor pointed to Caleb, saying and signing, “Thee is Caleb.” Eli repeated the sign.

  The child stared at him.

  Honor picked up Caleb’s hand and helped him move his fingers to say, “Eli.” Then she lifted Eli’s hand. “Keep showing him thy name, Eli, till he learns it. We must teach him how to speak with his hands.”

  Obediently Eli followed her instruction.

  Honor sat back on her heels, watching. Would Eli be able to open up communication with the boy?

  CALEB REFUSED TO be distracted by Eli and refused to get up. Honor did not want to give in to tears again. The child needed her to be strong now. Weeping with him would not help him face this awful parting, this slicing of family ties.

  “Can’t just leave him in the middle of the road, ma’am,” Judah said. Approaching the boy, Perlie and Royale paused, concerned. “He might try to go after them, get lost,” Judah continued. “It’s not safe out here for a child alone. Bear and wolves around.”

  Eli looked troubled, and she didn’t know how to reassure him. He’d just been through a terrible ordeal himself.

  Honor covered her face with her hands, her heart torn in two. Grandfather had betrayed her just as this child had been betrayed by his family. When would this stop happening? One parting, one sorrow, followed another. At an outcry from the boy, she dropped her hands.

  Samuel had picked the boy up and was carrying him toward their cabin. Caleb screamed, beat and kicked Samuel, but the child’s fighting didn’t deter her husband. He marched onward. When he arrived in front of their door, he set the boy down.

  The child looked up at the big man, knuckling his red, swollen, tear-clogged eyes.

  Samuel knelt in front of him, eye to eye. He gripped Caleb’s thin shoulders but in a sign of acceptance, of affection even. Then Samuel signed to Eli, “Play here with this boy. Help him.”

  Eli obeyed, sat down beside Caleb, and showed him his carved wooden horses. “You can have this one,” Eli said and signed. He shoved
one into Caleb’s hand and galloped the other horse down his own leg, demonstrating how to play with the toy.

  At this act of generosity, Honor blinked back tears. Royale edged closer to her, offering silent comfort.

  Caleb finally grasped the horse but only stared at his new toy.

  “We must go about our business,” Samuel signed. “Let Caleb have time to accept us as we are. But he needs Eli as company.”

  The sentence, so insightful and wise, raised Honor up onto her toes so she could put her arms around Samuel. Once again the man’s instinctive kindness came to the fore and drew her near. Then, embarrassed in front of Judah and the others, she pulled away.

  Samuel motioned for Judah to follow him to the barn. The men left her with the boys, sitting by the door. She wanted to hover over Caleb, make him welcome somehow. But she trusted Samuel’s instinct.

  Caleb must face this cruel abandonment. Perlie reached into her white apron pocket and held out two oatmeal cookies, one to each of the boys.

  Caleb let his lie in his lap while Eli started eating his immediately.

  “Eli, stay with Caleb and try to teach him to sign horse and thy name. If he tries to leave, call me.”

  “I got a brother now,” Eli said, still nibbling deftly.

  “Yes, now thee has a brother,” Honor agreed. Caleb wasn’t the first child who had been sent away from his family. And though she didn’t like Caleb’s stepfather, in a way he had acted in the boy’s best interest.

  Samuel would teach this child what he needed to face the world as a deaf person. But how could she communicate this to an abandoned child who couldn’t hear her comforting words, whose heart had been broken?

  Honor came awake abruptly and sat up in bed. Cold night air blew around her face and ears, chilling her. The faintest moon glow peeped in through the window and the open door. Why was the door open?

  Instant fear shot through her. Instead of sleeping with Royale in the kitchen, Eli had decided to keep Caleb company in the loft above their bedroom. Honor threw back the covers and hurried to the ladder outside the bedroom door. She climbed up and found Eli sound asleep, wrapped in a quilt. But Caleb was not in the other quilt. Oh no.