Heaven Sent (24 page)
Through the entire church service Hannah managed to maintain her righteous indignation. She was so angry at those spiteful women, she couldn't even hear a word her father was preaching. She glanced numerous times at Henry Lee and he would meet her look with a quiet smile.
Each time she became more incensed that such a fine man should be the subject of backbiting in her own father's congregation. She wanted to avenge him. She wanted to make it up to him. She wanted to protect him. All her instincts as mother, sister, daughter, and wife merged into one cord of strength that now bound her to her husband. When he was welcomed, she was welcomed. When he was respected, she was respected. And when he was insulted, she was insulted. She wasn't exactly sure when this bond had occurred, but it was firmly in place and she felt no need to tamper with it.
By the time the service ended she was in a boiling rage and could barely offer a civil word to anyone. Her sister-in-law Earline couldn't even divert her with the baby. Hannah was angry at the whole congregation. Not one of them—except her father of course—had ever tried to get to know Henry Lee. He had not, to her knowledge, ever been invited to participate in church activities. Hannah was certain that this slight was merely because he wasn't one of them. He was a mixed breed; he hadn't come from
She briefly thought of her own past opinion of Henry Lee. She had been wrong, dreadfully wrong. But now, shown the error of her ways, she had every intention of seeing that the rest of the congregation followed suit.
Henry Lee was completely at a loss to explain Hannah's behavior. It was obvious to him that she was mad as a wet hen about something, but he didn't know what. As he hurried through his measurements, it occurred to him that someone must have told her about his whiskey business. That was really the only thing that it could be. However, she didn't seem to be mad at him. All through the church service, each time he looked over at her, they shared a smile. It was possible, he decided, that she had learned the truth, but remained on his side. The idea that she knew all, understood, and he would not have to tell her, lightened his work and hurried his step. He could hardly wait to get back to the buggy.
They quickly took leave of the family and headed out. Hannah's mind was overflowing with plans to prove to the congregation that her husband was a finer man than any of them.
The rain had disappeared and the sun was peeking through mountains of thick fluffy clouds. Henry Lee smelled the soft sweet smell of the prairie after a good rain. It made him feel happy and alive and he wanted Hannah to feel the same way.
They rode along in silence as Henry Lee waited for Hannah to bring up the subject. As the miles passed, the anticipation got to be too much and he decided that he must get her talking.
"Well, Mrs. Watson," he said turning to her and gesturing to the heavens, "the storm clouds seem to have left the sky, but it looks like they found a home in your eyes."
Hannah had the good grace to blush.
"On a beautiful day like today," Henry Lee continued, "a pretty woman such as yourself should be smiling and singing and the like. Have I done something to make you look as if you've been eating persimmons?"
"I like persimmons," she answered smiling for the first time. "Sometimes sour tastes better than sweet."
"I'm learning that," Henry Lee answered. "Your green tomato pie was as good as any apple or peach I'd ever eaten, but there wasn't a bit of sweetness to it. Kind of like your temperament this morning," he teased. "Are you still feeling poorly?"
Hannah's cheeks burned as she assumed that he referred to her monthly indisposition.
"I'm feeling much better now," she answered truthfully and deliberately changed the subject. "I overheard some gossip at church and it put me in a bit of an uncivil frame of mind."
Henry Lee steeled himself for her reaction. She
had
heard about his business, he wished again that he had already told her himself. At least, if she was going to cause trouble about it, he would have been more prepared.
As a part of his business, Henry Lee had dealt with his share of angry customers who were priced out, delivered late, or otherwise dissatisfied with his whiskey. He decided to handle Hannah the same way he did them. Let her yell and complain all she wanted, he'd keep his voice low and agreeable and eventually she'd talk herself out. She had a right to be angry, but she'd come around after a bit and see that the business would be good for her and their family.
"Tell me what happened," he said gently.
"I just get so mad sometimes," she explained. "Some people are just irredeemable hypocrites."
"Oh?"
"Well." Hannah reconsidered. "They might not be irredeemable, but they certainly are beyond my forgiveness today."
Henry Lee took a deep breath, hoping for the best. "What did these unforgivable hypocrites do?"
Hannah didn't want to embarrass Henry Lee or make him feel unwelcome in the church, but she wanted him to know that the opinion of some was not her opinion, and that she intended to change the opinions of all. She decided to modify the truth so as not to hurt his feelings.
"I overheard two old gossips commenting on how you weren't a regular churchgoer before we married, and suggesting that you are more of a sinner than they."
Hannah missed the conflict of emotions that raced across Henry Lee's face as she continued. "The problem is that they really don't know you. To them, just because you didn't live in
Hannah turned to him and smiled brightly. "I don't want you worrying about a thing, I'm going to straighten everything out. I intend to tell each and every person in that congregation what an upstanding gentleman you are. Why, most of them wouldn't dream of trading with the Negroes or having friends visit who are Indian or crippled. You are a better Christian than all of them, and I definitely intend to tell them so."
Had she turned to glance at her husband at that time, she would have seen his look of horror. Not only was she unaware of the truth, she was forming plans to make herself look like the biggest fool in the
"Oh, yes, I should!" she insisted. "It's the truth and it's time people knew it. Why, I admit myself, that before we married, I thought you were some kind of ne'er-do-well. I never heard anything good about you. The way people talked I thought you spent all your time going to parties and such."
Henry Lee was stung with her confession. She had thought him worthless, good enough to give her child a name, but nothing more. She'd married him so her sin wouldn't taint any of those fine men in her church. His hurt hardened into anger. If she thought those women at the church were hypocrites, she was certainly the pot calling the kettle black.
"Hannah, I don't care what those people think of me." His jaw was set stubbornly and his speech defiant. "I know what kind of man I am, and I've learned to let the judgments of other people wash right over me. If those church people learn to accept me as I am and respect me, well that's fine. If they can't do that, well that's fine too. I'm not going to let you try to make people accept me. That's not my way. Understand this," he finished with an undertone of anger, "I am what I am and I don't care what they think."
"But," Hannah argued, "I care what they think. They've been my friends and family all my life and I want them to like my husband."
"Oh, I see," he answered, allowing the sting of his anger to surface as he passed the reins into one hand and ran the other distractedly through his thick black hair. "You don't care for
my
sake, just for your own. You want a respectable husband! Well, maybe you should have made your wedding plans a little bit more carefully!"
Hannah was surprised at his anger and embarrassed that he'd brought up that awful trick she had played in the wellhouse. She couldn't understand why he'd lost his temper. All she wanted was for the church people to be able to appreciate him. Why did he seem so intent on maintaining a reputation that he didn't deserve?
"I'm not thinking of myself, Henry Lee," Hannah insisted as she tentatively reached out to touch his sleeve. "These people are wrong about you and they need to see the error of their ways. I fully intend to explain, very lovingly, that the congregation has not been as neighborly or as generous as you deserve."
"No," Henry Lee's voice carried authority, "you will not speak to anyone about me at all. I forbid you to discuss me with the congregation of
Hannah was shocked at his vehemence. "Surely you don't mean to forbid me, Henry Lee?" she asked, removing her hand from his coat and laying it primly in her lap. "I'm only doing my Christian duty."
"Your duty, Mrs. Watson, is to follow the wishes of your husband. I have said that you will not discuss it and you will not discuss it."
Hannah was stunned into speechlessness.
Henry Lee drove into the yard rushing his horses and with his anger barely under control. Pulling up to a stop near the back door, he quickly pulled on the hand brake and jumped down from the buggy. Reaching up to Hannah he grabbed her around the waist and set her on her feet with more force than was actually necessary.
"And another thing," he said in the same harsh demanding tone. "I don't want to see you in this ridiculous breast binder again. It makes no sense to torture your body because you're afraid that your husband might get a good look at you!"
CHAPTER
11
H
enry Lee Watson handled his outbursts of temper by busying himself with something else. Hard work was his solace and he indulged wholeheartedly in it after their return from church.
He had planned to start cooking the mash, but the calmness and patience necessary for good whiskey making were fading in his current mood. His mother had always said that when she was angry or sad, you could taste the bitterness in the food she cooked. Henry Lee figured the same would undoubtedly apply to moonshine whiskey. With his blood all riled up and pounding through his veins, he wouldn't be able to take the time and care that made his corn liquor so fine.
With that in mind, he spent the afternoon doing a task that flourished with anger, chopping wood. He needed to sweat and pound that inanimate stump to release the choker that was churning inside of him.
Her former opinion of him rankled, but more than that he was angry at himself. He knew why she had married him. He should be beyond being bothered by it. He didn't want her child to be an ever-present barrier between them. The child existed, the child was not his, she married him to give the child a name. Knowing the facts, it was past time to let that anger go. He remembered how it was with his parents. Whenever they fought, whether it was over money, or his father's drinking, or predicting the weather, no matter how the argument started, before it was over Skut would bring the circumstances of Henry Lee's birth into the fray.