Nathaniel’s head pounded with his heartbeat, but his double vision slowly returned to normal. He sat in the parlor with Levi Coffin. A cool autumn breeze stirred the curtains at the open windows and doors.
“I haven’t had a chance to converse with thee as I would’ve liked, neighbor,” the older man said and smiled at Nathaniel.
“We’ve all been quite occupied.”
“The Lord works all things together for good,” Friend Coffin said. “Even giving me an opportunity of operating in my gift of talkativeness.”
From their chairs and benches on the other side of the room, the Coffin girls giggled.
Deborah came in with tea. Over the summer, even though she surely wore a bonnet, more freckles had appeared. They only added to her appeal. Now that he’d met all of her family over the past few months, he could see she got her height and long arms from her father but had a pretty face like her mother. Friend Coffin was saying something. Nathaniel shook his head. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”
The older man chuckled then grew more solemn. “How well was thee acquainted with Octavian Wagner?”
Nathaniel sighed. “Only slightly. But to think he came to such a sudden end…” The mare had thrown Wagner as she bolted for the farm in search of her filly. Wagner died shortly afterward.
“Perhaps he remembered something of the Gospels at the end,” Little Catherine said.
Nathaniel shook his head. “If he’d ever heard them.”
The little girls grew solemn. “Could anyone have never heard?”
“I fear so,” Nathaniel said. “I hope I never leave something so important unsaid again.” He was silent for a long grim moment. But today’s incident had cleared up something else for him. He did try to live by the Society’s teaching on his own, not just when Deborah might be watching or listening. “Almost everyone in the township needs horses shod, or hinges or plow points or trammel hooks for the fireplace. In my situation I should have many opportunities to speak of our hope.”
Deborah poured tea, and when she looked at him, her big eyes were solemn. But something else glimmered there. Was she proud of him?
Eventually Katy Coffin and the girls went to bed.
“Thee knows he must not sleep,” Levi Coffin told Deborah. His eyes twinkled. “Perhaps thee might be troubled to talk with him until someone else can sit up with him.”
She sat in the rocking bench on the other side of the parlor and picked up her knitting. “How is thee feeling, Nathaniel?”
“Tired. Head hurts. Nothing new though.”
Her knitting needles clicked rapidly as mittens took shape. “I have something I need to say to thee.”
Plain speech slipped out. He must be dazed still. “Please, speak thy mind. I know thee needs little encouragement.”
“The Lord has made a wonderful change in thee.” Her knitting needles slowed. “I have wanted to tell thee that for some time but had no opportunity.”
“There’s room at the other end of the bench. May I join thee?”
“Yes. Is thee using plain speech only to keep my attention?”
Nathaniel shuffled across the room. One of the Gospels talked about the Spirit giving believers words they needed. Was this situation included? “No, Deborah Wall.” The bench creaked dangerously under his weight. He put his arm over the back and turned toward her. “This is how I talk. How I was raised.”
He reached over and put his hand on her hands. They felt so soft compared to his. “This is how I want to live my life.”
The knitting needles stilled. Deborah took a deep breath.
Here was where he needed the Lord’s help. “I wonder if thee will undertake such a journey with me, Deborah Wall?” He raised her slender hand and kissed the back of it.
“I would be pleased to do so, Nathaniel,” she whispered, her voice shaky.