Longings of the Heart (33 page)

Struggling to control her quaking, she climbed onto her horse. Holding the men’s gaze, she eased her way back to the road. The blacks remained still and silent; no one raised a spear or made a threatening gesture. Hannah urged her horse into a gallop and, as quickly as she could, left the band of Aborigines behind her.

When certain she was a safe distance away, she slowed the mare and took in deep breaths, trying to quiet her fear. Her hands shook as she resettled her hat on her head. She could feel the dampness of her scalp beneath the bonnet.

Why did things have to be this way? Would she be forced to spend the rest of her life being afraid? Every time she saw a black man, would she quake? The idea of it was intolerable. Perhaps she and John should consider returning to London. She envisioned the noisy, crowded, filthy city and knew she couldn’t live there. This was her home and she’d have to deal with its challenges.

Hannah approached Deidre’s cottage. It stood away from the road, nearly hidden among the trees. No one seemed to be about—there was no wagon or horse, nor smoke rising from the chimney.
Perhaps she’s not home,
Hannah thought, uncertain whether or not to be thankful or disappointed.

She urged her horse forward and stopped in front of the house. She studied the shack. It was made of acacia with a thatch roof and looked as if it would fall down at any moment. There was one small window in the front, shaded by a dirty piece of broadcloth. A chair made of woven branches sat on a tiny porch that was sorely in need of cleaning. A ragged blanket had been draped across the chair, and a scraggly, mottled-colored cat lay curled on the rag.

This was nothing more than a hovel. Hannah had seen many like it but was surprised to discover that Deidre lived in such squalor. She felt a twinge of compassion, but knowing sympathy would only put her at a disadvantage, she reminded herself,
Poverty doesn’t have to mean filth.

Hannah climbed out of the saddle and tied her horse to a rickety porch railing. The cat opened golden eyes and gazed at Hannah, then bared its claws as it pushed its front legs straight out and then its hind legs in a leisurely stretch. Then with a yawn, it closed its eyes and returned to slumber.

Hannah took in a deep breath, pressed a hand against her abdomen, and then walked to the door. It was rough sawn and filthy, like everything else. She knocked. There was no sound from inside. From the corner of her eye, she saw the curtain flutter. Someone had looked out. She waited, and just as she prepared to knock again, the door flew open.

With one hand on the door and the other on her hip, Deidre stood as if challenging Hannah. She didn’t look lovely at all. Her hair needed combing and her clothing was somewhat out of kilter. It appeared she’d been aroused from sleep.

“I daresay, yer the last person I expected to come calling.” Deidre closed her lids halfway, nearly concealing her muddy green eyes. “I hope ye’ve brought the money ye owe me.”

“I want to speak to you.” Hannah worked hard to control rising anger. “Can you step outside?”

“What? Yer not good enough to come inside?” Deidre opened the door wide. “Come in. I wasn’t expecting visitors, but since it’s just ye, I don’t suppose the mess matters much, eh?” She smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression.

Hannah didn’t want to set a foot inside Deidre’s house, but if she were to keep this meeting civil, she’d have to. With her arms hugging her waist, she stepped through the door. The room smelled of soot, unclean linens, and spoiled food. Flies were thick. The only furnishings were two chairs, a table, and a straw mattress on the floor.

Deidre meandered to one of the chairs and dropped into it. “I’d offer ye tea, but I’ve got none and I don’t expect ye’d take any from me anyways.” She flung an arm over the back of the chair. “Please,” she said in an exaggerated tone of graciousness. “Have a seat.” She nodded at the only other chair.

Hannah could see that food of some sort was stuck to the seat with flies feasting on it. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

Deidre gazed at Hannah. “Did ye bring me payment, then?” “No. I did not. And I shall not.”

Deidre’s spine straightened and her expression turned ugly. “Then why ye here?”

“To tell you there’ll be no more payments.”

Deidre sneered. “Oh? Really?” She threw one leg over the other. “I’ll tell ye what—ye’ll do as I say.”

“No. I won’t.”

Hannah thought she saw a flicker of doubt in Deidre’s eyes. “And do ye know what’s at stake?”

“I do.” Just as she’d prayed, Hannah felt the presence and power of God. She met Deidre’s cruel gaze.

“I don’t think ye do. I know all ’bout ye. Every detail of yer sordid tale. Yer friend Lydia told me the sad story.” She chuckled.

“She was quite concerned and hoped I’d be praying for ye.”

“Yes. I know. She’s a good friend who meant well.”

“It did turn out well . . . for me.”

“Perhaps not.” Although still frightened, Hannah managed to smile. “There’s a Scripture in Proverbs that says, ‘Food gained by fraud tastes sweet to a man, but he ends up with a mouth full of gravel.’ ” She enjoyed the taste of God’s Word on her lips.

Deidre stood and walked to the hearth where she leaned against loose chinking. “I know ’bout yer affair with that judge.”

“There was no affair.”

“Oh, is that how ye see it, then? Ye were just a poor unfortunate that was taken advantage of, eh?”

“I was.” Hannah was shocked that she felt no outrage, only controlled righteous anger.

“When the gentleman was done with ye, he left ye in the family way. Isn’t that why he put ye out? Ye sponged off him as long as ye could, offering favors. But alas, when it was clear ye were carrying a child, he was forced to send ye packing.”

“That’s not at all how it was.”

“So ye say. I figured ye decided some recompense was owed ye and helped yerself to some of his property before ye crept away.”

So that’s how it’s going to be, then.
Hannah remained calm. “That’s not true. None of it.”

“Oh, isn’t it? What do ye think the elders will believe? Especially when they hear how ye killed the poor innocent babe. Ripped him from yer body the way ye did.”

“I didn’t.” The familiar taste of guilt raised up inside Hannah. She dared not let Deidre see it. “The child died because it was born too early. And I never tempted that man, nor did I steal from him. I only took bread after I’d been on the streets and could find nothing to eat.”

“That’s not what I heard. I can understand using a man to see to yer needs, but killing a baby, praying for it to die—there’s nothing more despicable.” She moved to the window.

Again, guilt reached for Hannah. The sin was gone, covered by the blood of Christ. No amount of guilt or shame would change what had happened. She breathed in slowly, nearly choking on the stink in the room. “You can think as you like. It makes no difference to me. John and I will pay you nothing more—nothing.”

Deidre narrowed her eyes. “Ye’ll be sorry for it. People like to gossip. They’ll believe the worst and ye’ll be ruined.”

“As will you.” Hannah knew it would be a wasted effort but felt she must try once more. “When the truth is known, they’ll see you for who you really are. You’ll have no reputation left.”

Deidre smirked. “Ye think I care ’bout that, eh? I’ve been alone in this world a long while and I’ve learned to take care of myself. There’s always someone wanting a gal to warm their bed. As ye well know.”

Hannah understood the implication and had heard enough. Before she realized her intent, she closed the distance between herself and Deidre and slapped the other woman’s face.

Stunned, Deidre pressed a hand against her cheek. “Ye’ll be sorry for that. Out! Out of my house!”

Hannah stared at her. She felt no remorse for the slap. Deidre deserved worse. “I’ll be glad to.” She turned and walked out, hurrying down the steps. Her hands trembling, she untied the horse’s reins and pushed up into the saddle.

Deidre flew onto the porch and shrieked, “Ye should have paid me. Things will go badly for ye now. Soon all the district will know ’bout ye. Ye’ll not be able to show yer face anywhere.”

Hannah sat on her horse and stared at the pathetic caricature of the woman she’d first met months before. Deidre was no longer beautiful but ugly and pathetic. She turned her horse and headed for the road.

Shrewish shrieks and taunts echoed behind her and were finally swallowed up by the forest. There was nothing more to be done now. Hannah’s life was in God’s hands, as it always had been.

24

The morning sun baked golden fields. “It’s impossibly hot,” Hannah said, holding her umbrella so that it shaded her and John.

“Nothing is impossible.” He leaned on his thighs, holding the reins loosely.

Hannah knew he was talking about more than the weather. Since her visit to Deidre, they’d not heard a word. It had been an agonizing two weeks of mental captivity, but they were beginning to breathe easier. Perhaps she had been bluffing, after all.

“Remember English summers?” John asked, wearing a relaxed smile.

Hannah’s mind carried her back to warm days where the heat most often felt comforting. Outside the city it had been green and damp. She smiled at the memory. How lovely the flowers had been. “I remember,” she said. “I’d love to be there right now.” In truth, Hannah would have liked to be almost anywhere else. Attending church was a difficult challenge. For since they’d not seen anyone during the week, she didn’t know if Deidre had spoken up. Those at church would know. And if Deidre hadn’t said anything, she might at any time. It was an ongoing trepidation.

John lifted the reins. “Hurry along, now.”

“Why must we hurry?” She leaned against John. “Meandering might be nicer.”

“We might miss services.”

“And that would be bad, eh?” Hannah tried to make her tone light.

John gave her a hug and continued on.

She dreaded seeing Deidre again. If she’d spoken to the reverend or the elders—Hannah could imagine what she would see in their eyes, especially if they’d believed Deidre’s version of her past.

Hannah glanced into the back of the wagon. Thomas sat facing the road, his legs dangling over the back. He seemed perfectly happy to study where they’d already been. He was most likely thinking about the next best place to cast in his fishing line. It had become one of his favorite pastimes. He brought home crayfish, turtles, and mullets. And talked about how he was going to figure out a way to catch a duck. Although Hannah wasn’t fond of crayfish, she had found a way to make them edible, but she refused to cook turtles and told him to return the poor creatures to their homes.

“Do you think she’ll be there?” Hannah asked.

“We’ll know soon. But we’ve not heard from any of the elders, so she’s most likely not said anything.”

“Do you think it possible she’s moved on?”

“We can hope, but more than likely she’s still living in her wretched cottage.” He looked at Hannah. “We can only wait and pray.”

Hannah thought back to the decision they’d made to move if Deidre did speak up. She didn’t want to leave Parramatta. It was her home; she had friends and the farm was doing well. Changing her grip on the umbrella handle, she quietly asked, “Do you truly think it wise to move away? Our life is here. I’d miss my friends terribly.”

John glanced back at Thomas and said in a hushed voice, “I don’t want to leave, but I don’t see any other way. If we’re to stay, people must be willing to do business with me and . . . if things go badly, there may not be enough trade for me in the district.” He patted her thigh. “There are other places, fine places to live and to make a fresh start.”

“Isn’t it possible that we’ll still be able to make it? After all, you’re an honorable businessman, and that’s what matters most to people, don’t you think?”

“Of course it matters.” He shook his head slightly. “Hannah, I think we’ve gotten ahead of ourselves. There’s no reason to plan on leaving just yet. Deidre’s said nothing. And most likely she won’t. I’m beginning to think it was all a ruse.” He patted her leg. “You did the right thing.”

Hannah leaned in closer to John.

“Try not to worry, luv. God has us in his hand.”

Hannah closed her eyes and breathed in the peace John offered.
Thank you, Lord, for this good man.

When John and Hannah’s wagon rolled into the churchyard, it was crowded with buggies and wagons, as usual. Children played tag in a field beside the church, and a cluster of men stood at the bottom of the steps. Everything seemed normal.

“All looks well.” John pulled the horses to a stop in the shade of a gum tree. He climbed out and gave Hannah a hand down.

Thomas jumped off the back. “Can I play?”

“Yes,” Hannah said. “But make sure you’re beside us in church by the time services begin.” She checked to make sure the food for the church picnic was covered and protected from flies.

“I will,” he called and ran to join the children.

Wearing a smile, John watched him. “Seems the youngsters are more interested in socializing than in their faith.”

“You consider that unusual?” Hannah teased.