Sweeter than Birdsong (23 page)

They were entering a denser part of the forest where the road turned into a path and sloped down to the creek.

The gravel crunched under their feet. “I know you love your brother,” his father said. “He has wounded you, yes. But he’s your brother.”

Ben didn’t wish to reply.

“I also need to ask you something,” his father said. “You’ve told me before that you plan to go into ministry and teaching. Is this still true?”

“Yes.”

“And we both know those professions will not make you rich.”

Where was this leading? “No, sir.”

“The most you can hope for is modest comfort, as we have in our own home right now. And we’ve been blessed with prosperity far beyond that of most ministers’ families.”

“Yes.” Ben waited for his father’s point.

“It’s most likely that you will be less than comfortable in your material life,” his father continued. “And that will affect a wife, and any children you may have. They will make the same sacrifices as you.”

“I know Mother has had to make do,” Ben said. “But it hasn’t been so bad for her, has it?”

“My travel made your mother’s life very challenging at times. I know it caused her worry and sorrow that many wives never know. And it was very tiring, and took a toll on her health.”

“But she’s healthy and strong.”

“Yes, praise God, she is. And it was that strong constitution that saved her in our leaner years. But I chastised myself many times for putting the woman I loved through such hardship.” He stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face Ben. “Your mother grew up on a farm and was accustomed to hard physical labor. A minister’s wife must be an unusually strong woman, physically and spiritually.”

“It’s not easy to judge a woman’s spiritual strength,” Ben said. “Some might say almost impossible, without marrying her. Are we finished with our walk?”

“Almost.” His father turned back toward the house, and Ben followed. It was harder going this way, as it was uphill now.

“There can be other obstacles when a man cares for a woman.” His father’s walk slowed. “If her parents don’t approve, then there’s no use in pining for what one can’t have.”

Ben stared at the ground. “How do you know her parents wouldn’t approve?”

“You forget, son, that I hear many things in my work as a minister, many things I don’t even care to hear. The Winters don’t attend our chapel, but they are friendly with some who do. Mrs. Winter is ambitious for her daughter. I doubt she will look with favor on a future minister.”

“Well, Father, after what Cyrus has done, I doubt that Kate Winter herself will look with favor on me, or anyone else in our family,” Ben said, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. “So while I appreciate your words, I think they are unnecessary.” He glanced sidelong at his father and saw pity on his face.

Ben could not bear it. “I’ll see you at home,” he tossed over his shoulder, and strode ahead, heedless of his aches and stiffness. His father stayed back and let him go on alone.

Kate had kept to her room for two days.

Tessie knocked and opened the door a crack. “Miss, would you like a cup of tea?”

“No thank you, Tessie.” Kate sat in a chair turned toward the wall, a lap board balanced on her knees with a Greek reader atop it. Study had been her only respite from what had happened. She was struggling through a difficult Greek passage, but her mind kept wandering as the characters blurred before her tired eyes.

She sighed and let her head droop back against the high velvet back of the chair. The only small consolation was that her father had been away for much of the time since her return, though no one knew where. At least she did not have to fear for their safety in addition to everything else. And he would not learn what had happened at the musicale, with all its searing humiliation.

“Kate, I wish to speak with you.” Her mother’s dry voice cut the air of the room, and Tessie hurried out. Kate did not blame her.

“Yes, Mother.” She turned in her chair and raised her head.

“I need to address the comments made by that Hanby boy,” her mother said, her mouth tense and white. She gripped an embroidery frame as if unconscious of it in her hand.

It seemed irrelevant to inform her of Cyrus’s name.

“He seemed to imply that you and his elder brother were courting.”

Kate closed her eyes but then forced them open. She must not look guilty. She had done nothing wrong—but then, she had hidden the truth about aiding fugitives.

“I hope you haven’t been conducting yourself shamelessly without my knowledge.” Her mother twisted the embroidery work in her fingers.

Kate bit her lip. “No, Mother, I have no suitors other than the one you know of, Frederick Jones.”

“Then why did that idiotic young man seem to think you did?”

“I do not know.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her mother’s hands were so rigid they threatened to snap her embroidery frame in two.

Kate had not intended to lie, but it was a lie to pretend not to know. She did in fact know why Cyrus had said it. She must tell the truth, painful though it might be.

“I believe Cyrus Hanby thinks his brother is—attached—to me.” Kate’s hand shook at the top of her lap board. She laid the board aside on the small table next to her chair.

“Ben Hanby? Have you encouraged him in some way?” Her mother fired out the words like bullets.

“I don’t believe I’ve done anything improper. I’ve exchanged no intimate words or promises with Ben Hanby. And I assure you that at this moment, I have not the slightest desire to see him ever again.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” Her mother’s voice lowered the temperature of the room. “I’m delighted to hear you do not wish to keep company with Ben Hanby. He is not fit to court you. He will have no solid living. I forbid you to spend any more time in his company.” Her mother stalked out of the room, stiff-backed.

A rush of nausea made Kate sink back against the chair and close her eyes. If she had not joined Ben Hanby’s mission and sung in his musicale, none of this would have happened.

Could anyone see her admiration for him in her eyes? Did she show it? Would people believe that what Cyrus said was true? Any romantic attraction to Ben Hanby was foolish, schoolgirl thinking. Look where it had led her. Her most private feelings would become a subject of public discussion. She would have to walk through the town and endure speculations and whispered jokes.

Running away was no longer an option, now that she wished to finish at Otterbein and equip herself for helping others like Nelly. But she had more than enough reason to keep away from Ben Hanby, even without her mother’s order.

Twenty-Three

“I
WANT YOU TO TELL ME ABOUT KATE
W
INTER.”
Frederick leaned over the counter on the saddle and harness side of the Haynie & Hanby store.

Ben stopped in the act of hanging a harness on the display rack. “What do you mean?” Frederick must mean the musicale. That was rude of him. A flush rose up Ben’s neck—he pulled at his collar with an impatient movement.

“Oh, don’t get yourself in a knot.” Frederick grinned. “Of course I’m not referring to what your brother said. I know you. After all, I had first claim to Miss Winter, and I’m certain you would never horn in on another man’s affairs of the heart.” He sat down on the high stool, still elegant in his light linen summer coat.

“I don’t think we should discuss the young lady,” Ben said.

“Don’t be such an old woman. You’re my closest friend, and I need a confidant.” Light spilled into the store window, casting a heroic light over Frederick, with his bronzed good looks and his expensive clothing. “I plan to marry Miss Winter.”

Ben looked at him for a long moment, then opened the saddlery account ledger and ran his finger over the numbers. He must not react in a way that would foment any talk about Miss Winter or make her the object of an open rivalry. “And will she agree with your plan?” he asked Frederick.

“I don’t know. That’s why I wish you to tell me about her state of mind. You spent time in her company on your return from Cincinnati, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“Did she mention me?”

“No.” He closed the ledger and took a breath.

“Oh.” Frederick’s face fell but then brightened again. “Did she mention anyone else who might hold a place in her heart?”

“No.” The image of Nelly and her baby in the ferns rose up in his mind. Frederick had no idea who had a place in Kate’s heart. Ben took a saddle from the wall rack and pretended to check the stitching in its gullet.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so glum,” Frederick said. “You mustn’t take what happened too hard. Yes, people will talk for a few weeks, but it will die down. And if she is seen with me a great deal, no one will remember it at all. Though I may have to do some convincing with Mother.” He made a wry grimace. “But Miss Winter will make a perfect wife for a politician. She’ll never say an inappropriate word in public.”

At Ben’s sharp look, Frederick added in a rush, “And, of course, she’s beautiful and accomplished and I’d find it easy to be swept away by her.”

The door to the street opened and the bell jingled.

“Hello, Ben!” Mr. Jones was all cheer and well-fed satisfaction. “Have you recovered from your expedition?” He strode in like a colossus, filling half the small store with his body and the rest with his voice.

“Yes, sir,” Ben said. At least Mr. Jones had not asked about the musicale.

“Frederick told me you all looked mighty strange when you came back.” Mr. Jones stopped smiling and his eyebrows quirked. “You weren’t up to any shenanigans, were you?”

“No, sir.” That was odd. He did not like to be questioned on the subject of the journey, and it seemed so long ago. Why had Mr. Jones brought it up?

“Good!” Mr. Jones clapped Ben on the shoulder, grinning again. “Has Frederick told you about our plan?”

Ben turned to his friend, who shook his sleek head a fraction. Not the same plan, apparently.

“No, sir,” Ben said.

“It’s a capital one. As a result of our visit to the club, Frederick has been invited to clerk in a lawyer’s office and learn the profession to be certain it suits him.”

“And I know it will,” Frederick said.

“Yes, but you must finish at Otterbein before you turn lawyer,” his father said. “At any rate, we’ve decided that Frederick must stay at school for at least the next academic year before taking a clerkship. But his place is assured.”

“Very good, sir. My congratulations.” He couldn’t mourn his friend’s departure too much, in light of what Frederick had just confided.

“But we have even better news,” Frederick said, and looked at his father with an expectant glow.

“Indeed we do.” Mr. Jones lowered his voice. “You may go this fall in Frederick’s place, if you wish.”

Ben laid the hole-punching tool down on the counter. “Sir?”

“The lawyer from the club was impressed by you as well. And he works in a very large office. There will be more than one clerkship available in the future. I’ll even help you with any necessary expenses. What a boon for you, eh?” He looked back and forth between them.

“Think of it, Ben,” Frederick said. “You always take the fall semester off anyway, for your teaching. But now you could study for the law. The two of us might even work in the same office as partners one day. Magnificent.”

“That is a very generous offer, Mr. Jones, from both you and the lawyer,” Ben said.

The gray-haired man smiled. “You’re a worthy young man. Besides which, you may find that study of the law changes your opinions for the better.”

“I don’t catch your meaning, sir.”

“Oh, never mind all that. What do you think—will you go to the clerkship?”

Ben did not know where to begin. Perhaps with the practical considerations. “Mr. Jones, it’s true that I usually take the fall term off—”

“Yes, it’s perfect, you see.” He beamed at Ben.

“But I do so in order to earn my tuition at Otterbein. By teaching schoolchildren in Rushville.”

Mr. Jones waved a beefy hand. “Yes, yes, I know all that. But with my support and a clerk’s stipend, you would save just as much to put toward your tuition.”

“Yes, sir. I must consider it.” He cast a staggered glance at the saddles, the leather, everything he and his father labored over to provide their family income. Mr. Jones could offer him entry into a professional living at ten times the earnings of a saddler, with a single wave of his hand.

“You must agree, Ben.” Frederick jumped to his feet. “Shh.” He raised a finger to forestall objection. “Think on it. There’s a month until you need to give an answer.”

A month would give Ben the time he needed.

“Opportunity knocks, Ben,” Mr. Jones said, quiet for once, and kind. “Choose with care.”

“I will, sir. And thank you,” Ben said.

Think of all the abolition cases he might defend, like the man he had met, what was his name? Rutherford Hayes. All the good he could do. And he had always done well in oratory.

It was like being struck with a mallet on the head. He had never considered this other way—he had never needed to do so, being set on the ministry. And were it not for Kate Winter, he would still refuse to consider it.