Chapter 4. Buried Hope

“Aunt Olivia, Mr. Sutton is at the door calling upon you!” Jordan called out gleefully as he entered the kitchen, his violin in one hand. He had a grin a mile wide on his face and looked most amused. “He’s got flowers; a whole bouquet of flowers --for you!” He stuck his violin on his shoulder and used his chin to steady it as he began to play “Clementine” while a rather stunned Olivia stopped what she was doing. In her grasp, a spoonful of mashed potatoes hung completely still, mid-air.

“Well, don’t just leave him standing on the front porch Jordan.” Noah went back to polishing his own violin after redirecting his brother to remember his manners. “Show him into the parlor and offer him tea, though I can’t imagine that he wants a cup of tea. I think he is more interested in your good company Aunt Olivia.”

“Oh pshaw!” She finally recovered and reached for a pair of oven mitts, waving the boys out of her way as she did so. “He’s probably looking for your father --who is doing his duty making calls on his parishioners with your dear mother. They will be returning for supper soon, I expect.” She put extra emphasis on the word duty, for good measure. These boys needed to understand what duty was all about. She certainly hoped Mr. Sutton didn’t think it was his duty to bring her flowers. In fact, she rather suspected he didn’t know what his duty was-- as it was getting mighty close to suppertime for someone to come calling.

“No, Aunt Olivia, he specifically asked to see you. And he brought flowers, like I said. He wouldn’t be bringing Father flowers!”

Noah and Jordan exchanged grins. They couldn’t remember a time when she’d had a gentleman caller appear at the manse. She put the spoon back in the potatoes and turned back to the meal at hand.

She removed a roast from the oven and stopped in her tracks with her mouth wide open. Flowers? She again seemed rather surprised to have someone calling on her, at her age. She was so flustered she couldn’t seem to find any words to respond to the situation that would soon be seated in the front parlor, their front parlor, with flowers, for her, of all things. Didn’t he know how old she was?

Love and admiration however, she would soon find out, were not only for the young and held no barrier of age. As Jordan turned back to the entrance hall to invite the caller into the parlor properly, she realized that the beef roast was getting rather hot in her hands, in spite of using two oven mitts on each hand to carry the pan to its’ proper place, which would be just to the right of where Reverend Parker would soon sit for dinner. She hurried to place the roasting pan there on a large trivet and realized she probably looked a fright after cooking all afternoon in the kitchen. Wafting into the air were the smells of steaming mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and the beef roast. She checked to be sure the lids were secure on all of the pans to keep the contents warm and removed the oven mitts from her hands.

“I’ll go and freshen up,” she said nervously as she removed her work apron and hung it on a hook in the pantry. “I’ll just be a minute Noah. Serve Mr. Sutton tea and keep him entertained while I do something to make myself presentable. Be sure to pour the boiling water into your mother’s china teapot and take two cups and saucers on the tray. Offer cream and sugar.”

“Sure thing, Aunt Olivia,” Noah said placing his violin beside Jordan’s with a wink and a silly grin as he moved from the long kitchen table to retrieve the tea kettle on the Wedgewood stove. He looked as though he knew a secret, though she was utterly baffled. “I know, remember to take the honey also because some folks don’t take sugar.” His wink and humming of “Polly Wolly Doodle” as he began to prepare the tea tray made her cheeks turn three shades of red. She shot a rather stiff ‘humpf’ in reply and marched across the kitchen flagstone floor to her bedroom beside the kitchen and shut the door.

Behind her door in the sanctuary of her room, she sank onto the edge of her quilted bed. She stared into the mirror on the three drawer bureau that stood on four ornately carved legs. Her reflection met her. Her white hair was pulled into a neatly coiffed bun but a few stray strands and curls framed her rosy cheeks. She thought the curls softened her face and decided not to tuck them back into her bun. Her eyes were sparkling in spite of years without a husband or children of her own. She had learned to find joy in whatever the Lord gave her and today, as she stared into the glass mirror she looked positively shocked but delighted.

Could it be that after all these years the good Lord had seen fit to bless her with a potential husband? A suitor, at her age? Her hands trembled as she noticed a mingling of two very conflicting feelings in her eyes. She had both distaste for the situation and a sparkle of surprise and delight in her eyes. What on earth could Mr. Sutton want? Perhaps he had appeared at Brookside Meadow Farm to ask her to take charge of a committee concerning the food to be served at the annual summer dance. No, he wouldn’t be bringing a bouquet of flowers to ask her to serve on a committee, would he? She really didn’t know as she hadn’t been courted in more than threescore years.

Did she dare hope? Part of her rather liked the way things were. She had long ago accepted her fate as an unmarried woman. She simply had never met the right man, nor was it the will of God that she marry; or at least that is what she had finally concluded. Her sister Kathryn had always had her hands full with a house running over with children. The obvious had stared her in the face for years: her dear sister had needed help. Olivia had risen to that challenge. She had served her sister’s family with the heart of more than a sister; that of a loving and devoted servant of God; cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and yes, even parenting her ten nieces and nephews. Yet, there was this part of her that was buried hope. She had best arrange her hair, powder her nose and find the courage to meet her guest. Maybe she would invite him to stay for supper. He could taste her delicious cooking that way. Well, it couldn’t hurt… could it? Or, on second thought, maybe she would make him work a little at this courtship before he earned the right to sit at the supper table and taste her cooking.

Abigail entered the kitchen to make a tray of ice cold lemonade for the children and a pot of hot tea for her sister. She was expecting Elizabeth to arrive at any moment and flood the house with grandchildren and hopefully, some sort of good news on the progression of their plan to save the Parker family from disaster. She hoped they could talk privately on the front porch or in the garden before supper. She fished around in the cupboards at the hutch until she found a tray, glasses, a teapot and tea cups with saucers.

“Who is the guest in our parlor?” she asked Noah as he finished the tea tray according to Aunt Olivia’s wishes.

“Mr. Sutton has come to call upon Aunt Olivia.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide with wonder. “I can’t recall any suitors having been to the house for her before today?”

“Me either,” Noah admitted.

“How wonderful!” she whispered. If the good Lord would send a suitor for her aunt, more than twice her own age, would he not help her in her hour of need?

“I agree, but listen, don’t tell Aunt Olivia. Just act like everything is normal,” he suggested, smiling as he turned toward the arch to the hallway leading to the parlor.

“Perfectly understood Noah,” she nodded while carefully adding hot water from the kettle to the teapot on her own tray.

A little while later, Elizabeth drove her carriage up the long drive and parked her team of obedient mares beneath the porte cochere. Her children tumbled out of the seats and Abigail greeted each of them with generous and affectionate embraces while advising them to steer clear of the house for the duration of Aunt Olivia’s reception of her visitor. Elizabeth directed the children to play outside and raised a curious eyebrow to her sister as the children ran off without an argument towards the lawn.

“How do you manage five children so well? It is remarkable! Not a single tantrum, excuse, retort nor complaint! I was expecting quite the onslaught of questions when I told them not to go near the parlor nor even set foot in the house.” Abigail looped her elbow inside the crook of her sister’s and together they climbed the steps leading to the shaded front porch.

Elizabeth beamed with pride. “I would like to believe they are given enough attention and love, gentle discipline and… well, the right amount of instruction and reward for good behavior from their parents that they want to behave and do well!”

Abigail thought that was sort of how it was with the Lord. She wanted to do the right things, but she didn’t understand why so many times she did the opposite of what she should do, wanted to do and sometimes, could do. The human condition and struggle and plight aggravated her so.

Abigail and Elizabeth chose to sit in two of the many white wicker chairs on the columned front porch, with the tea tray Abigail had prepared placed between them on a round, garden table with curved and ornate metal legs. From this vantage, they could enjoy the view of Elizabeth’s children playing on the lawn. The girls (Emma, Carrie and Amelia) ran about pushing their hoops with their sticks and the boys (Patrick and Benjamin) seemed content to explore along the tree line beyond the stable where Abigail sometimes rode Gabriella, as Hannah used to do.

The girls seemed to be a flock of bouncing, long, golden curls; quite like their mother and aunts had been at their ages. The boys had darker hair like their father, Joseph (Calhoun), who at that hour of the day would still be pouring over the records and books for the lumber mill in Garfield.

The mill was doing much better than it had been doing in years Elizabeth said. Abigail listened because it took her mind off her own problems. Six years ago, the country had been on the tail end of an economic depression that had been realized in 1893 and had lasted through 1898. They called it… the Panic of’93. Economic recovery had been a slow but steady climb. In recent years, the young but happily married couple had finally been able to get a handle on their cumbersome mortgage and purchase a fine carriage with two long seats, both facing front and large enough for the whole family to ride together.

Not everyone had fared the depression well and Father had delivered many sermons to encourage the people of Kentucky and visited many a struggling parishioner to offer food, encouragement and prayers. He gave guidance and hope, pointing on people to lean on God. Mother and many of the women of the church had delivered baskets of food, bread, pies, jams and fruit to the poor throughout the county over the years. It had been a terribly challenging time for many. Some had lost their homes and had moved away or had their businesses fold. Somehow, God had gotten them all through it but it hadn’t been easy. “Father and Mother have spent more than the last decade getting people through it all…” Elizabeth was saying when her voice trailed off.

Abigail poured another cup of tea for both of them and Elizabeth looked as though she had grown comfortable. As she talked, she removed her white gloves, one finger at a time. Her face bore the expression of one exasperated and she was dreading to tell Abigail that she had not been able to secure all of the funds for the voyage, yet. She decided to remain forthright but hopeful. Why worry? Surely she could easily find someone to borrow from. The very reputation of the entire family demanded, even necessitated it, and no matter what the economy was doing. Elizabeth sipped her tea before continuing her discourse on the economy, which would of course lead into her explanation of why she hadn’t been able to raise all of the funds for steamship fare to England’s ports. She breathed in deeply.

“So, you’ll of course understand, I’ve run into a fine kettle of fish,” Elizabeth finally admitted with a sound of frustration in her voice as she pressed her teacup to her lips. She tried to sound cheerful, but matter of fact. She hoped she was achieving exactly the right tone in her voice because she knew her sister had grown desperate and was barely out of the pit of despair.

“It’s the cost, isn’t it?” Abigail’s cup clanked nervously into her saucer. It seemed like the loudest clank she’d ever heard.

“Well, frankly, yes.” Elizabeth placed her cup firmly back into her own saucer without a clank, as if to convey that the entire matter was well in hand. The last thing she needed was to send her sister into another bout of depression. “However, I’m still convinced I can find the rest of the funds somewhere. The good news is: I spoke to mother after our Ladies’ Auxiliary meeting. She is rather distracted with trying to raise support for our local poor and suffering this year but perhaps that worked in your favor in this situation. She did finally agree after a lengthy discussion that England might be a nice change of pace for you. I think with the twins being in Wisconsin, and Hannah already over there, she feels as though she is losing her daughters at times, but she came around to seeing how it would help you take your mind off Jack; and of course, you’ll find new purpose in life by helping Hannah spread the gospel.”

“Well that is a bright spot of news,” Abigail felt her whole body relax into her chair a bit. The sound of Noah and Jordan tuning their violins drifted from the kitchen and down the hall, spilling out onto the front porch through the screens to the double doors.

“My husband has given me half of the cost of the journey but you will have to pay it back when you can. Mother and Peter both contributed. We are still coming up short by a fair sum. I need a little more time to figure a way to find the rest of what we need.”

“The one thing we don’t have much of,” Abigail interjected quietly, a perplexed look upon her face. “Did you… did you have to tell anyone … the nature of my exact predicament? You are the only person on the face of this earth who knows, dear sister.”

“No, have no fear in that regard. This is something best kept between us. I am keenly aware of that fact. It would be hard on the children when they return to school …and Mother and Father especially if this news became town gossip. No, it is best firmly kept our secret for now. I simply explained that Jack broken your heart and eloped with Helen Richards. My husband, Mother and Peter were all very sympathetic and understanding. They asked me about Jack and Helen, but of course I don’t have any of those details. The very idea of him abandoning you to go back to Helen after he had courted you was so deplorable that no other questions were raised except concern for your emotional state. Mother had been thinking about sending you on a trip to visit her mother, unbeknownst to me, of course. That’s when I brought up how homesick Hannah must be and how it might do more good for everyone concerned if she would consider letting you go to England. It didn’t take too long for her to agree, though she is greatly concerned about the distance and unwavering that a chaperone must accompany you.”

“Thank you Elizabeth,” Abigail replied, having listened attentively to all that her sister had shared about the economy, how difficult it had been for everyone in Kentucky to recover and Mother’s reactions to the idea her sister had proposed so carefully. “How can I ever repay you for your kindness and your discretion? I am entirely undeserving of this display of grace!”

“Family sticks together when trouble comes and we do what we can to keep pointing each other to the good Lord. I would hope someone would help my daughter if one of them were in trouble. Besides, as you said earlier, this is for the good of the whole family. I know it is rather a Rahab sort of thing, but if you have learned your lesson in this, then we need only to focus on bringing this baby into the world safely-- and with as much propriety as possible. There is no need for further suffering and what will only lead to humiliation. By helping you, I must admit that I am also helping the family, and myself. I know all too well how cruel community members can be and I too, know how hard it is to be a preacher’s daughter. We aren’t supposed to be the ones who make mistakes, though we are usually the very worst when it comes down to it.”

“Oh Elizabeth, I’ll never forget when you poured that pitcher of lemonade on Mrs. Danville!”

“Neither will Mrs. Danville, nor most of Garfield for that matter!”

“She was rather judgmental of your marriage to Joseph.”

“Well, the spreading of malicious gossip has never been something I could abide by --and that lemonade pitcher so happened to be within reach of where I was standing. I thought she was about to talk Mother into delaying my wedding to Joseph for two more years! I was certainly old enough to marry the love of my life!”

The girls could not help but burst out laughing at the memory of Mrs. Danville covered in ice cold lemonade. “I really should not have done that! I just couldn’t seem to stop myself…” Elizabeth was shaking her head. “Oh, the look upon her face…”

Abigail couldn’t stop laughing either but finished her sister’s sentence for her. “…When she took her shoe off and dumped the lemonade out …”

“…And then she unpinned her hat and a river of lemonade and more ice poured out…” Elizabeth managed to sputter a sentence out though she was nearly doubled over in laughter just remembering.

“And then she put it back on her head…” This just sent both sisters into another fit of laughter. Abigail continued, “And she put her shoe back on and marched out of the church and down the steps and into the street, with that dress drenched all down the front…”

Abigail waited until Elizabeth could breathe again and then added: “I think if you hadn’t poured that pitcher on her head that Mother would have!”

“I do think you may be right!” Elizabeth wiped tears from her eyes from laughing so hard. “I should not have done such a terrible thing. I thought Mrs. Danville would never forgive me... and Father thought the board would hogtie him to the next train out of Lincoln County.”

“Well, she may not have forgiven you, but you have tamed her tongue by standing up to her. She has turned out to be one of the most adoring supporters of your marriage and family. She positively dotes on your children now!” Abigail remarked.

“Yes, she certainly does that. She brought the children each their own package of peppermint sticks and pumpkin spice cookies just last week, for no reason at all.”

Elizabeth was thinking how good it was to hear Abigail laugh again. Abigail was thinking the same, but neither spoke of it. The sisters sat in comfortable silence for a while, only the sounds of children laughing and the violin music pouring out for the hearers to enjoy. For a moment, Abigail’s eyes began to well up with tears thinking she might never again sit on the front porch of the manse over tea sharing memories with her sister. What if she remained in England for many years to come? How long might it be again before she saw any of her family?

Matthew, looking comfortable in the saddle and riding one of the horses from the stable had appeared on the road coming from town, which caused her to blink away the tears she felt. She still hadn’t been able to spend much time alone with her brother. It was good to see him riding up the drive, an excellent equestrian having grown up in Kentucky. After he stabled the horse and strode onto the porch, he paused near where his sisters were sitting and said cheerfully, “Violins? I have to join them! What would you girls like to hear?”

“‘Amazing Grace’ would be nice,” Abigail said, a hint of sarcasm recognized only by Elizabeth in her voice.

“Bob’s your uncle,” he said in response, meaning all was well. “Peter said he, Callie and Heaven Pearl might stop by this evening after supper for a visit.”

“Don’t they have the sweetest home in town?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s very nice. So close to the school for Peter and very clean and cozy,” Matthew agreed. “Callie is an excellent homemaker.” His sisters agreed as he went inside, eager to retrieve his violin and join his brothers.

“How are we going to find what is needed to cover the cost of the journey?” Abigail finally wondered out loud as they listened to the violins playing “Amazing Grace.”

“We’ll have to manage. The Lord will provide. How are we going to find a chaperone who can afford such a journey?” Elizabeth asked. She had an idea that perhaps Matthew could loan them the rest of what was needed for the ship’s fare.

Other than the sound of the violins playing, they sat in silence for a few minutes, Elizabeth’s ever watchful eyes looking about the large front lawn for each of her children while Abigail fretted again. Whiskers rubbed up against her leg and she reached down and picked up the cat and scratched behind his ears. She was enjoying the sound of all three of her brothers playing on the violin but here Abby sat, almost oblivious to the beauty of the music they were hearing. Her face seemed so etched with fear and pain that it frightened even Elizabeth. Her sister’s eyes looked almost empty, as if she were in shock or numb, seeing, but not really seeing anything in front of her. Just moments before there had been laughter, but suddenly, it seemed as though she was in utter despair.

“Abby, I know it’s hard to believe right now, but it will all work out one way or another. God doesn’t always remove the consequences of our sin and poor choices. I learned that the hard way. I had to swallow my pride and ask Mrs. Danville to forgive me. I also had to purchase her a new hat. She had been able to save the shoes and the dress, but not the hat. God showed great mercy to me that I only had to replace the hat and swallow a little bit of my headstrong pride with an apology. It hardly seemed fair after she had spread lies around town about me; but, regardless of her behavior, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that and embarrassed her and myself and our family. I should have forgiven her and found some other way to handle the problems. I had to learn this lesson the hard way. So if it seems a little hard right now, remember that it could be much worse. I know my example of suffering seems hardly comforting and pales in comparison perhaps with what you are going through right now, but take comfort in what I have shared. When the Panic of ’93 happened, Joshua and I didn’t know how we’d make it through. We barely had any orders at the lumber mill. It was very hard, but the Lord did bring us through it --though many an evening we had to settle for cornbread and bean soup for dinner. At least we had something to eat. The Lord did not forsake us. Sometimes we had to humble our pride and be thankful for the food Mother and Aunt Olivia sent us. It was often the only food we had to eat.”

“You are right, I know you are Elizabeth. It’s just that… not only is it hard to believe right now for all of the things I need to bring this baby into the world in some kind of manner that isn’t going to humiliate our entire family and my child… I just don’t even know any more if I can truly be a Christian. I don’t know if I am ever going to be good enough. I mean, how could this have happened? How did I let this happen? Where do I even go from here? I know He has forgiven me, and I think I have forgiven myself… but how did I manage to let this happen? How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let my guard down like that?”

“It does seem entirely out of character for you Abby. You’ve always done everything right. You’ve never given Mother or Father one problem before. I admit that when you first told me --it puzzled me quite a bit. You’ve always been a gracious and kind child, at the top of your class in your studies, an avid reader and so helpful here at home with chores and watching the younger children. You have a wonderful talent for writing. I think you will be a good mother and wife… you’ve learned how to cook, garden, sew and clean.” Elizabeth paused and refilled her teacup. “The truth is, love, romance and passion can happen to anyone… and if you are not very careful, you can be easily persuaded to let your guard down for someone you may think loves you. I’m quite certain that Jack promised you the world or somehow made you feel far safer with him than he should have. He took liberties with you that he should not have taken. Clearly, he enticed you and I think he should bare a greater part of the blame. Though he may even have genuinely loved you at the time of his actions, somewhere along the way, he made a poor decision. One of the consequences may be that another man will raise this baby as his own and Jack may never know that he was a father to this child.”

She paused and sipped her tea. “Secondly, without the empowerment of the Holy Spirit, and I think a great deal of determination and desire on our own part to do what is right and pleasing before God, whom of us is able to walk this walk? Not a single one of us can get it right all of the time. Only Jesus could do that. Don’t be too hard on yourself and don’t give up. There may be a few rough spots to this, like we are experiencing right now. Delays. Setbacks. But eventually, some months from now, things will fall into place. Be patient. Be courageous. Do not give up on the Lord. He has a plan for your life and He knows you are repentant. I’m certain He forgave you and that He will bring you through this. Don’t let anyone or anything talk you out of standing on His promises, not even our own shortcomings. Sometimes, I think when a situation is particularly bleak and daunting, it just seems as though the Lord grants us grace when we deserve it the least. Unearned, undeserved, unmerited grace and favor.”

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

Prov. 3: 5, 6 KJV