Six

Heath had occasionally joined Nancy and his mother for the noon meal, which they ate in the kitchen, but she had known that the Fosters ate their evening meal in the dining room. Since she was a paid servant, Nancy wondered if she would be invited to share the evening meal with them or if she would still sit in the kitchen.

Mrs. Foster assigned Nancy the task of cleaning the three upstairs bedrooms. The room Nancy was to regard as her own, according to Mrs. Foster, was a small dormer room. The furniture was made of rosewood and had deeply cut, spiral-turned legs. The dresser had a white marble top. The high-backed bed and dresser filled up most of the floor space. Nancy had always admired the patchwork quilt made with patterned silk fabrics, one that Mrs. Foster had made when she was a girl.

Nancy had learned that the Fosters always “dressed” for their evening meal, and just in case she was asked to join them, she had brought her church clothes—a white linen dress with a short dark blue jacket—that Clay had bought for her last birthday. She hung her garments on the clothes tree and tried to smooth out the wrinkles with her fingers.

When she went downstairs after cleaning the bedrooms to her satisfaction, Nancy walked through the dining room on her way to the kitchen. Three place settings had been laid at the table. She smiled, and her heart lifted. Her dismay at Clay’s leaving lessened a degree.

Nancy was acutely aware of the differences in her family background and Heath’s when she sat at the dining-room table and compared it to her own home. The table was covered with a linen cloth, several pieces of silverware surrounded the china plate before her, and a sparkling crystal glass was filled with water. Lighted candelabra shed a rosy glow over the table.

Heath sat at the head of the table and prayed before he served the food. Nancy was given the first portions as if she was an honored guest instead of a servant. He laid a thick slice of roast pork on her plate. “Would you like a larger serving of meat?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please ask for seconds if you want more,” he said as he put a dollop of potatoes on her plate and covered them with a thin layer of creamy gravy. He spooned a portion of his mother’s pepper relish beside a slice of wheat bread that Mrs. Foster had baked in the afternoon. He passed the plate to Nancy and turned to his mother.

“How large a portion dost thou want?”

“The same size portion as thou gave Nancy will be fine, but not quite as many potatoes, please.”

Throughout the meal, Nancy noticed, as she had before, that when Heath or Mrs. Foster spoke to her, they used the pronoun you. It was only when they addressed each other that they used the words thee and thou.

While Nancy washed the dishes that Mrs. Foster then dried and put in the cupboard, she said, “I’ve often wondered why you and Dr. Foster don’t use you when you’re talking to each other.”

Mrs. Foster laughed softly. “The words thee and thou were used in earlier times. You will have noticed these words in the Bible.”

“Yes, I remember that the Bible has those words, like when Jesus said, ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ ”

“Some Quakers use the old pronouns when they’re talking to other members of their faith or when they’re speaking to members of their immediate family. They’re also used as a term of endearment by sweethearts or between man and wife.”

“I suppose I ask too many questions.”

“And how else would you learn new things if you didn’t have an inquiring mind! You may ask me anything you like.”

Mrs. Foster took off her apron. “It’s too early to go to bed, so you may join Heath in the sitting room.” She picked up a plate she had filled with food and wrapped in a warm cloth. “I’m going to take supper to my neighbor down the street. I’ll be back soon.”

Nancy went down the hall and timorously entered the sitting room. Heath sat in a chair close to a light, reading, and she wondered if he would resent her presence. He looked up and smiled.

“Come in and find a comfortable place to sit. Mother says you like to read, so choose any book you like from the shelf. ”

Nancy took Uncle Tom’s Cabin from the bookcase. She had noticed the book several times when she was dusting. She wanted to read it because an article in the Intelligencer had referred to the book as a cause of the war. She bypassed the chair where Mrs. Foster sat when she was reading or sewing and sat on the couch opposite Heath. He stood up and brought a lamp from the mantel and placed it where the light would fall on the open pages of her book.

He started to return to his chair but stopped when a knock sounded at the front door. Nancy thought he was probably being summoned on a sick call, and she was disappointed because she had looked forward to spending the evening with him.

Heath opened the door. “Good evening, Richard,” he said. “How nice of you to stop by. Come in. Mother will be back soon.”

A robust man past middle age entered the room, and Heath said, “Richard, this is Nancy Logan, who’s staying with us a few days while her father and brother are away. Nancy, this is our neighbor Richard Donovan.”

The visitor gave Nancy a brief smile while Heath pulled a rocking chair into the circle of light and invited him to be seated. “May I take your hat?”

Mr. Donovan shook his head, seated himself, and twisted his hat around and around in his hands. Heath took the book he’d been reading out of his chair, laid it aside, and sat down.

“What can I do for you?”

The visitor swallowed a few times. “This isn’t an easy errand for me, Heath. But my mind is troubled, for we’ve been friends since you moved to Wheeling. I need to ask you some questions. I’ve denied some things I’ve heard about you over the past few days, and I want to set my mind at ease.” Mr. Donovan looked at Nancy. “It might be better if we were alone.”

The tension in the room was overpowering, and half rising off the davenport, Nancy murmured, “I’ll go upstairs.”

“Not unless you want to,” Heath said.

She knew instinctively that Mr. Donovan wasn’t the bearer of good news, and she didn’t want Heath to hear it alone. She eased back on the couch and laid her book aside.

Donovan squirmed in his chair, but he took a quick breath and looked directly at Heath. “I’ve heard that you’ve been asked more than once to join one of the military companies forming in town and that you’ve refused.”

“That’s true,” Heath answered without further explanation, and his mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile.

“I can’t believe it!” Donovan said. “Does this mean you’re a secessionist? Are you going to fight with the Confederates?”

Nancy had considered Heath one of the calmest men she’d ever known, but she saw a muscle contract in his jaw and sudden anger light his eyes. His voice was strained when he spoke. “We have been friends for a long time, and I pray that we can continue that friendship. Therefore, I’ll answer your question. I’m a loyal Union man. I do not like slavery, nor do I respect the hotheads who have pulled this country into war. I have already signed the oath of allegiance to the United States of America. But. . .”

He paused, and his words were slow and distinct when he continued. “I will not join a militia. I will not go into the army. In an extreme case, I would consider violence. If someone should break into this house tonight and threaten Mother or Nancy, I would meet violence with violence. But I’ve dedicated my life to healing, not killing, and I will not enlist in the army. Before this conflict is over, doctors are going to be needed as much as soldiers. The people of Wheeling may be glad to have a resident doctor.”

Donovan stood. “I guess I’ve heard what I came to find out. I suppose you have to live with your conscience, and I won’t let your decision come between us as friends. But I think I should warn you that you and your mother may be in danger. Please be careful.”

Heath closed the door behind his visitor and returned to his chair with dragging steps. He sat down and lowered his head into his hands. Nancy sat as if she’d been turned to stone. She longed to comfort him, but what could she do? What could she say?

After several minutes, she knelt beside Heath’s chair, but she didn’t touch him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He looked up as if he’d forgotten she was in the room.

“Let’s not mention this visit to my mother, please. She will hear soon enough. I’ve been getting the cold shoulder from several men the past few days, so I knew what to expect.” He smiled wistfully in her direction. “Do you think any less of me than you did a few hours ago?”

She briefly touched his hand that lay on the arm of the chair and shook her head violently. “No, this hasn’t changed my opinion of you at all. A man has to do what he has to do. My brother said that to me last night about this time.”

His eyes questioned her.

“I guess it’s time to tell you why Pa wished my company on you. My brother left last night to volunteer in the Confederate Army. Pa’s afraid to leave me alone while he makes his run to Parkersburg and back. He figured I’d be safer with your mother.”

“I’m not sure you’re any safer here, but you heard what I said. I’ll protect Mother and you with my life, if necessary, but I can’t willingly take a man’s life. I hope you understand.”

The back door opened, and Nancy knew Mrs. Foster had returned. She jumped up from the floor and hurried to the couch.

“No matter what decision you make, I know it’s the right one,” she whispered. His glowing eyes thanked her.