Authors: Ann H. Gabhart
Tags: #Romance, #Christian, #Orphans, #Kentucky, #Fiction, #Christian Fiction, #Historical, #Shakers, #Kentucky - History - 1792-1865, #General, #Religious, #Love Stories
Two weeks later Elder Joseph read the letter from Ethan telling of the man stabbing Issachar in New Orleans. A pall fell over the meeting, for all there had been touched at one time or another by Issachar's kindness. "He was alive when the letter was posted. Hold that in your minds and remember how strong in the faith our brother is. Let us labor for their safe journey back up the river to us and for our brother's healing," Elder Joseph said.
As they stood to form into lines for the exercise, Sister Ruth stared straight at Elizabeth as if this too could somehow be laid to her blame. Elizabeth wanted to shout at her and all the others that there was no way this could have happened because she had come to their village.
She had brought trouble to the village with Colton Linley chasing after her and threatening the other sisters. She could not deny that. But while Ethan's letter didn't say who had stabbed Issachar, she did know it could not be Colton Linley. She'd spotted him just the week before, riding on the road through the village looking right and left, searching for her. Just in time, she'd stepped off the path and behind a building before he could pick her out among the sisters walking on the pathways. For once Elizabeth had been thankful for the sameness of her cloak and dress with all the other sisters.
And now she prayed with every bit as much might as the others in the meetinghouse for the life of Brother Issachar. Not to Mother Ann as they did, but to the Lord she felt in her heart. To the one who had listened to her prayers through all her years.
"Eva. Eva!"
The panicked cry yanked Ethan awake. For a brief moment, he wasn't sure where he was, but then Brother Issachar cried out again. The nightmare of the last few days rushed back at Ethan as his eyes focused on Brother Issachar, whose eyelids twitched as if struggling to open while his lips moved in silent conversation with someone in his head.
Ethan wished he had a way to help his brother and friend, but he knew not what to do except keep watch over him through the night in the glow of the candle on the small bedside table. The candle was burning low, and it would be a race between it guttering out and the morning light filtering dimly through the cabin's tiny window up high along the ceiling. The window didn't look as if it had ever been washed, and Ethan thought of the good spirits Mother Ann said would not live where there was dirt.
He wanted to clean away the dirt, invite in hundreds of good spirits to help Brother Issachar get better. He wanted to turn back the clock to that moment on the walkway up to Mrs. Davey's rooming house and step between the knife and Brother Issachar. He wanted the knife to sink into his side instead of Brother Issachar's. It was his fault that his brother lay so gravely wounded on the bed in front of him. His shameful curiosity that had brought them this terrible trouble. His own flesh-and-blood father who had tried to kill the father of his heart.
Ethan had not lain down beside Brother Issachar for fear of shifting in the small bed and causing him pain. Instead he pulled a wooden chair close to the bed to keep watch over him. Ethan hadn't intended to doze off, but the gentle roll of the river water had been too much for him. He hadn't slept in more than fits and snatches since they came aboard the boat.
At first Brother Issachar seemed to endure the steamboat trip back up the river toward Kentucky and Harmony Hill fairly well. He'd walked aboard the boat, leaning heavily on Ethan, but he was on his own feet, pale but determined.
The doctor had come back to the boardinghouse the morning after Hawk Boyd had pushed his knife into Brother Issachar's side and advised against them traveling anywhere. "You should remain here until you're stronger," he told Brother Issachar. "That way if infection sets in we can use leaches to rid the poison from your system"
"Nay;" Brother Issachar said in a voice that brooked no argument. "We will begin our journey home on the morrow as planned:"
He sent Ethan to book passage on the first steamboat leaving New Orleans for Louisville. It was January yet, so the captain didn't make any promises when Ethan hunted him up to ask how long the trip would take. Instead he said, "Hard to tell. Could be two weeks. Could be two months. Some who've come down the river speak of cold up north. If there's ice, we'll have to put into a port and wait out the winter'
"But we must get back to Kentucky as soon as possible. A man's life might depend on it"
The captain's face was weathered with bone-deep wrinkles. Some of the wrinkles around his lips twitched in what could have been amusement or perhaps irritation. "I'd be glad to accommodate you, sonny. Fact is, I don't turn any coins sitting idle, but I've yet to find any channels to steam around the weather. A river man takes what comes, steers past the sawyers he can see, and prays the engines don't blow" The captain turned to walk away. "We go at eight sharp and wait for no one:"
The first days on the river hadn't been bad. The sun was shining and the air was cool but pleasant. Brother Issachar insisted on sitting out on the deck, and Ethan began to think Brother Issachar was right when he'd told Ethan he shouldn't have wasted the Ministry's money booking the cabin. Twice a day he took the bandage off Issachar's wound and washed it out with the Shaker potion for aching muscles Brother Issachar had instructed him to buy back from one of the New Orleans storekeepers before the steamboat left harbor.
The potion bubbled and so burned in the wound that the blood drained from Brother Issachar's face as he gripped the bedding clothes with such force Ethan feared he might rip them. But when Ethan hesitated to do the treatment, Brother Issachar fastened his fingers tightly on Ethan's arm as he said, "You must promise to do this for me. Even should I lose consciousness. If gangrene sets in, I'll have no hope of seeing Harmony Hill again:"
The evening before, when Ethan had taken the bandage away, the skin around the wound had looked red and puffy in the light of the candle he held close to it. Brother Issachar tried to raise his head up to look at the wound, but he fell back on the bed. His eyes were glassy and his face hot to the touch.
Ethan wanted to go search among the other passengers to see if there might be a doctor aboard, but Brother Issachar feared the sort of doctor he might find. "Nay, doctors of the world oft as not carry death with them, and we're not long from home now" His voice was so weak that Ethan had to lean close to hear him. "Sister Lettie will know which healing potion to mix for me when we get to Harmony Hill:"
"But it will be days before we get there," Ethan protested.
"Worry not, my young brother. I will make it home one way or another."
"Do you speak of heaven?" Ethan felt no joy at the thought of heaven. Not if it took his brother away from him.
Brother Issachar's lips turned up in a little smile. "Do we not claim Harmony Hill as our heaven on earth? Do we not live the same there as we will in heaven?" The smile faded. "Now bandage the wound. My head spins with the need for sleep:"
And he had shut his eyes and passed into some sort of slumber. For a while Ethan had bathed Brother Issachar's face with wet rags, but then when his skin seemed cooler to the touch, Ethan sat back to rest a moment and let his eyelids close. Now here in the deepest dark of the night, Brother Issachar's face was burning hot as he raised his head up off the pillow and reached toward the shadows. "Eva! Don't leave me.
Ethan gently pushed him back down on the bed. "Easy, Brother Issachar," he said softly. "I'm here with you:" Perhaps he was trying to say Ethan and his fevered tongue couldn't get the sounds out of his mouth in the right way. "I won't leave you:'
But Brother Issachar struggled against Ethan's hold as if he didn't recognize his voice. He looked beyond Ethan's face into the darkness of the shadows. "No, you must not keep me from her. Turn me loose. If you have any decency in you, let me go to her. To her and the babe:" He sobbed as he uttered the last word.
"Calm yourself, Brother Issachar, before you make your wound worse:" Ethan kept his voice firm as he tightened his grip on the man's shoulders, but even in his weakened condition Brother Issachar was strong. He twisted away from Ethan, then gasped in pain and fell back on the pillow.
"My Eva, my Eva:" His cheeks were wet with tears. "Oh God, what sin have I done against you to deserve such punishment?"
"Shh, Brother Issachar. You have confessed your sins and been forgiven:" Ethan could see the spreading circle of blood on the bandage over the man's side. He prayed for the right thing to say to calm Brother Issachar's spirit. "You are a Believer:" He did his best to keep his own voice calm, but he heard the panic edging into it. He cleared his throat and added, "One of the brethren at Harmony Hill:"
Brother Issachar seized on the last words. "Harmony," he whispered softly and then coughed. The circle of blood on his bandage grew larger. But he was calmer.
Ethan slid his arm under Brother Issachar's shoulders to raise his head up as he put a glass of water to his lips. The water slid into his mouth and he swallowed. Then Ethan wrung out a rag from the basin of water on the floor to bathe Brother Issachar's face. The rag felt hot in Ethan's hand almost immediately, so he dipped it in the water again. Brother Issachar moved restlessly on the pillow. His eyes flashed open and closed, and his fingers twitched as he fought against the touch of the bedclothes and became more agitated again.
With shaking hands, Ethan poured some of the medicine powders the doctor had given him into the glass of water. He prayed for their healing power as he stirred it and then lifted Brother Issachar's head again to get him to swallow the bitter draught. Some of the medicine dribbled out the corners of his mouth and down on the bedclothes, but Brother Issachar swallowed a portion of it even as he pushed against Ethan's hand holding the glass to his lips.
Ethan began singing softly. "Come down Shaker-like. Come down holy. Come down Shaker-like. Let's all go to glory." Ethan hesitated on the last line of the song he'd surely sung several times every week for the last fifteen years of his life.
When Brother Haskell first taught him the song, he had explained to Ethan that the glory in the song wasn't a hopedfor-someday paradise in the sky, but instead the feeling that came over the Believers as they lived separate from the world in harmony and peace with one another. A Believer didn't have to wait for heaven to have glory. A Believer could sing down glory. A Believer didn't have to stop breathing to get to that glory. He simply had to die to the world.
So singing those words wasn't asking the Eternal Father or Mother Ann to take Brother Issachar on to glory in heaven. Ethan's spirit warred against that thought, but at the same time the sound of the song seemed to spread a peace over Brother Issachar. His hands were no longer twitching and his breath was coming easier. It could have been the medicine, but Ethan kept singing as he placed the cooling rags on Brother Issachar's forehead. He held the candle closer to the bandage. The bloodstain on it didn't seem to be increasing, so he left it as it was.
If only he could sing Brother Issachar out of this dark cabin and back to the light at Harmony Hill. Back to health. With the thought, new words came to him. "Come down Shakerlike. Come down healing. Come down Shaker-like. Come down healing"
As dawn began to push the first fingers of light through the small window, Brother Issachar's fever cooled and he lapsed into a more restful sleep. Ethan sat back in his chair and let the song die on his lips even as he kept a prayer circling in his head. He prayed for healing and he prayed that when Brother Issachar next opened his eyes he'd know Ethan as his brother instead of being locked in some other time from the past.
The sun was straight up in the sky at midday when Brother Issachar did finally open his eyes and speak. "Brother Ethan:"
His voice was shaky, but the voice of the man Ethan knew. Relief swept through Ethan as he turned from the doorway where he'd been standing to get a breath of fresher air to smile at the man on the bed. "Brother Issachar, how are you feeling this day?"
"I have been stronger." He shut his lips and then pulled them open. "And my mouth. It feels as dry as new woven cloth."
"It is good to see you awake:" As Ethan helped Brother Issachar lift his head to sip some water, he looked at the bandage. No fresh blood seeped through the cotton. He had thought to change it with the morning light, but he didn't have the heart to wake Brother Issachar for that purpose. Now with Brother Issachar watching, Ethan began to gather the necessary items for dressing the wound.
"The air in this cabin is fetid" Brother Issachar wrinkled his nose and frowned. "I have no memory of the night. How long have we been trapped in here?"
"Only a day," Ethan said. "We need to change your bandage. Your wound bled badly in the night:"
"Perhaps that is to the good" Brother Issachar attempted a smile. "A doctor from the world would surely say I needed to be bled" With a groan he raised himself to a sitting position. "Let us go out on the deck away from this bad air."
The wind blowing across the deck was decidedly cooler than it had been the day before, but Ethan welcomed the feel of it against his face as he settled Brother Issachar into one of the chairs on the deck. He'd practically carried the man out of the cabin, but he had made a pretense of believing Brother Issachar could have made it on his own.