Just Above a Whisper (2 page)

      
Cathy Shephard
—Maddie’s aunt

      
Reese Thackery
—an indentured servant

      
Mr. Zantow
—the man who owns Reese’s papers

      
Pastor Douglas Muldoon
—pastor at one of the meetinghouses in town

      
Alison Muldoon
—his wife

      
Their children:
Hillary, Joshua, Peter, Martin, and Jeffrey

      
Conner Kingsley
—owner of the Tucker Mills Bank

      
Troy Thaden
—Conner’s business partner

      
Dalton Kingsley
—Conner’s brother

      
Jamie Kingsley
—Dalton’s sick daughter

      
Some of the townsfolk:

      
Doc MacKay
—the town doctor

      
Mrs. Greenlowe
—Mr. Zantow builds a porch for her

      
Mr. Jenness
—the bank manager

      
Mrs. Lillie Jenness
—his wife

      
Gerald Jenness
—their son

      
Mr. Leffler
—the bank teller

      
Mr. Hank Somer
—the town complainer

      
The Reverend Mr. Sullins
—pastor at Commons Meetinghouse

Prologue

The coach had been built for comfort. It was plush and large and moved easily as the horses pulled it clear of the town limits and onto the road beyond. The two inside were comfortable as well, not only with the seats, but with each other.

“I’ll miss Grandmother,” the young man said, his voice changing often these days.

“We’ll see her at Christmas,” his sister reminded him, thinking that they’d not gotten out of town as soon as they’d planned. She was regretting there would be no daylight to travel in at all.

“Yes, but she looked so sad.”

“She did, didn’t she?”

“I think she has been since Grandfather died.”

“He was her favorite person,” the young woman said, her romantic heart sighing a little.

The 12-year-old wasn’t willing to keep his seat any longer. He shifted over to sit next to his sister, never enjoying the dark rides home from Tucker Mills.

For a few miles they talked of nothing in particular. They knew their own mother would be looking for them in several hours and would begin to pace when the coach was late getting in.

The young man suddenly heard his sister chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“I was remembering the other night when Grandmother began—” she started to tell him when she suddenly felt the coach begin to slow.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked.

“Shh,” his sister warned, her hand going to his arm with more strength than he expected. “Be quiet,” she said. “Not a word.”

By then the coach had stopped. Brother and sister sat very close, holding hands, listening to the conversation outside.

“Throw down your gold!” a voice snarled.

“We haven’t any,” one of the coachmen called back.

“Check inside,” the voice commanded, and the two in the interior cowered in fear. By the time the door was wrenched open, they were terrified.

The highwaymen were not long in their work. Within ten minutes, it had started to rain. By then they had taken the goods they sought and left all four people dead or dying.

One

Tucker Mills, Massachusetts, 1839

Maddie Randall, working on a baby’s quilt, happened to look out the window in time to see her husband heading toward the house. It was too early for their noon dinner, and there was plenty of weeding to be done in the fields at this time of the year. For a moment she wondered if he might be hurt. He was inside their farmhouse kitchen and calling for her before she had time to worry.

“Maddie?”

“Right here,” she answered from the small room off the parlor, the room where she kept her sewing and needlework. Jace appeared in the doorway as she came to her feet.

“Is everything all right?” Maddie asked.

“Yes, sit back down,” Jace directed. Knowing that the summer heat was causing swelling in her ankles, he realized that having her feet up was the best thing she could do. “Where’s Clara?” he asked after kissing her, checking on the woman who came a few days a week to help Maddie in the house.

“Upstairs, I think.”

Jace took the room’s only other chair.

“Is something wrong?” Maddie asked, showing her tendency to be a worrier.

“No, I just came from town, and I wanted to talk to you.”

Maddie knew a moment of dread but still calmly asked, “Did you stop and see Mr. Muldoon?”

“No,” Jace replied, looking surprised. “I told you I wouldn’t do that again without telling you first.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”

“Have you figured it out yet, Maddie?” Jace asked patiently.

“Do you know yet why my seeing Pastor Muldoon bothers you?”

“I think I finally do have it figured out. For a long time I was so fearful and upset that I was missing something God had for me, but then you convinced me that all was well. Now, you’re not sure. You’re asking questions about death and eternity, and I don’t know what to think. You were the stable one, and I made you my rock.”

“And now I’ve crumbled,” Jace said quietly.

“That’s just it!” Maddie exclaimed. “You haven’t crumbled! You’re not a crying, fearful mess like I was. You’re confident that you’ll gain answers, and you’re willing to search until you do, not caring what anyone says or thinks.”

“I care what
you
think. And I’ll just keep apologizing for not listening to you sooner. You knew something wasn’t right, Maddie, but I didn’t see it.”

Maddie sighed. They had had this conversation at least six times since she’d told him they were expecting and he’d announced his need to see Mr. Muldoon. Mr. Muldoon was one of the pastors in town, but he wasn’t their pastor. At least, not yet. Maddie could tell even that was going to change. Her aunt and uncle attended services at the meetinghouse on the green, and she often went with them. But Mr. Muldoon’s congregation was building their own meetinghouse. They had been worshiping together in the Muldoons’ parlor and kitchen for years.

“I don’t want you to be upset with me,” Jace cut into her thoughts. “Or feeling like I’ve betrayed you.”

“I don’t feel that way,” Maddie said, even as she remembered that a few weeks ago she did. “I just fear that you’re going to go someplace and not take me along.”

Jace took her hand. He held it tenderly, as tenderly as his eyes held hers.

“What kind of husband would I be to do that?” he asked, his fingers gently stroking hers. “We’re going to stick together, the three of us.”

“I know you won’t leave me,” Maddie cut in.

“I’m not talking about that, Maddie. I’m talking about all of us understanding what God wants and what is required of us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Jace didn’t have an answer, but he did feel certain of one thing: After all of Maddie’s searching, God would not turn her away. Jace’s search for truth was relatively new, but he also believed that God would not reject him.

Maddie’s hand slipped from his. She had wanted an answer, and the disappointment on her face told Jace he’d failed. Jace’s mind searched for something to say, but he was out of words. He
did
want to go see Mr. Muldoon again but wasn’t sure how to broach the idea with his wife. When she picked up her handwork again, he knew that now was not the time.

“Why did you go to town?” Maddie finally asked, her eyes on the tiny squares of fabric in her lap, her voice a bit tight.

Jace smiled very gently before admitting, “I had to see a man about a cradle.”

Completely sorry for the things she’d been thinking, Maddie looked up. “Oh, Jace,” was all she could manage.

“Don’t give up, Maddie,” Jace urged. “We can figure this out together.”

Not sure if she believed this or not, Maddie didn’t say anything, but when Jace reached for her hand again, she did not pull away.

Reese Thackery opened her bedroom door very slowly. She didn’t have a large room, or a fancy one, but the door had a lock—something that was important to her. She moved as slowly as she could manage this day because the room had something else: a door that tended to squeak, sounding very loud in the early morning hours.

Mr. Zantow had not had a good night. He was never at his best when drinking, and last night had been worse than usual. Reese always thought about living and working elsewhere at these times, but it wasn’t that simple. Reese Thackery was an indentured servant and had been for more than four years. It wasn’t slavery, but in a very real sense, Mr. Zantow owned her.

From her small room that sat to the rear of the house, Reese made her way quietly into the kitchen, only to be startled by the sight of Mr. Zantow by the fire.

“Good morning,” the servant said when she found her voice, wanting to laugh at how quiet she’d been, thinking him still asleep.

“Good morning, Reese,” he said tiredly. His eyes closed as he balanced himself with a hand to the mantel. “Is there coffee?”

“I’ll put it on right now.”

Reese glanced his way when he moved slowly to the table and took a seat. It wasn’t a large kitchen, so for her it was an invasion of space, but she kept to her task, casting occasional glances in his direction. Clearly he had a headache, and that seemed to be all that was on his mind.

Breakfast preparations began as soon as the coffee was on, and twice Reese forgot herself and began to hum. Humming was something she did as she worked. It was a natural part of her, but she knew that now was not the time. Even without looking behind her, she was certain that Mr. Zantow was not feeling better.

When the coffee was ready, she took him a cup and asked if he wanted cream.

“I want you to run an errand,” he said, not having heard her question. “Go see Mrs. Greenlowe. Tell her I’ll be late today.”

“All right,” she agreed with quiet relief. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, and don’t hurry,” he told her, thinking she was much too cheerful this morning.

Forgetting about breakfast for the moment and going down the back hall in order to leave by that door, Reese exited without further word. She walked past the fenced-in kitchen garden, overflowing with fruits and vegetables, and made her way onto the street.