Chapter 17

Hattie

Saturday dawned bright and clear. Hattie had been up twice in the night, changing a diaper and fixing a bottle for RoseAnn. When she woke, she realized that she’d fallen asleep with the infant in her bed. The little hand clutching at the neckline of her nightshirt sent a warmth through her that had everything to do with being a mother.

She lay there watching her little one sleep and wondered how birthing a baby could make her love it more than she did this little lost lamb God had given her. That’s how she thought of RoseAnn being placed in her care, a gift from God. A place inside her she didn’t realize had been hollow, was full of this little girl. Once again, she prayed God wouldn’t let the sheriff find any of her family.

Hattie picked the baby up and slipped into her robe before venturing out to start the coffee. She knew that soon after she put the pot on to boil, Helen would wander in to start breakfast. Sure enough, she set the pot on the stove after stoking the fire and in walked Helen.

“Hello, Hattie. I heard Joshua had put you to work. Who do we have here?”

“This is RoseAnn. I couldn’t keep calling her the baby. Do you think it’s alright?”

“Of course it’s alright. The girl needed a name, and you gave her one. That’s only right since you are the one caring for her. I think it’s a lovely name for a lovely little lady. Her arrival did, however, make me think of something we’d not thought of. It is very possible that some of our brides in the future could be widows with a baby or children. I need to make sure we order some child sized beds, some cribs and cradles from Elias Charles.”

“Oh, I should have him make some things for RoseAnn, too.”

“I’ll have him make her a crib and a travel cradle. He made a dresser for the Clay’s with a rail on top, for easy changing of the baby, with a wooden lidded container for the soiled linens. It was made of cedar to combat the smell.”

“Oh, I was just thinking that I needed to find something air tight to save us all.”

“Go to the diner and ask Mrs. Jones if she has any empty lard buckets. The lids on those things have a seal to keep the lard fresh. A good wash in some scalding water and it would work great for the time being.”

Hattie nodded, she would, right after breakfast. For now she balanced a bottle full of milk mix, and a coffee cup on top of the pot of coffee she’d made herself for her study. “We’re headed to our parlor to read. I’ll be out to help with breakfast set up; when you’re ready, just knock.”

Helen shook her head. “Not today. You help every day and that little one needs you more than I do. You spend the day taking care of her. She’s your primary responsibility, now. The rest of us can take care of the Bride House.

“Besides, I know Lyla wants to show you how far she got on that design you and she laid out yesterday. She must be close to done because she took my measurements before I left last night, to adjust the pattern for me. She also let me in on your secret project.”

Hattie frowned.

“Oh, don’t be upset with her. She had a good reason. The girls have been trying to surprise you with a trousseau. She knew they wanted to start on your dress. So, she told me you’d designed one and had her cut out the pattern. She said you weren’t even letting her help you sew it. You might want to rethink that now with RoseAnn around.”

Hattie smiled. “No, she will be okay. I want to do this. I don’t want anyone to see it before that day. Lyla will have to see it for a fitting once it’s done because I can’t wear it and pin it up. But that is all.”

“Well, if you get overwhelmed, see if one of us can at least help with RoseAnn for a few hours. I know all the brides will want to spoil her. She’s just so precious.”

Hattie agreed and then creeped back to her parlor, praying nothing would fall before she got herself and RoseAnn situated.

Now, to read and study the Bible so she’d be a good pastor’s wife. Though she was getting a lot out of his mother’s journals and the scriptures they lead her to, she thought she’d talk to Joshua to get some scriptures about marriage and being a good wife. She’d like to study those as well.

Joshua

Joshua got up at his original time, after a restless night. He was cranky and tired. All night long he had wrestled with his thoughts. How was he supposed to prepare a sermon when he was consumed with memories of Hattie? Her body on his lap, her head turned into the hollow of his neck, her warm breath blowing across his chin and jaw. The smell of her hair as he’d held her. The feel of his hand rubbing circles on her back. The weight of her arms around his neck. Those eyes like none he’d ever seen before, so vibrant in their violet hue. A mouth that begged him to kiss her. Then her letter last night, all but begging him to marry her right now. Declaring her love and tormenting him with her desire that was as strong as his.

How in the world was he supposed to lead this congregation in holy and righteous living, when he was so weak?

He grabbed up his Bible and just randomly flipped it open. He knew he couldn’t read more of the Song of Solomon. The letters of love and lust contained there hadn’t helped him at all last night.

His Bible came to rest in 1 Corinthians and, as he lay his hand on the scripture, he closed his eyes and cried out to God. “Please show me what to do, Father. I am so lost.”

He opened his eyes and saw that above his hand lay the start of Chapter Seven. He began reading from the first verse and almost groaned with the topic, picked as if by random, upon which the scripture spoke.

1 Now concerning the things about which you wrote to me. It is good for a man not to touch a woman. 2 But, because of sexual immoralities, let each man have his own wife, and let each woman have her own husband. 3 Let the husband render to his wife the affection owed her, and likewise also the wife to her husband. 4 The wife doesn’t have authority over her own body, but the husband. Likewise also the husband doesn’t have authority over his own body, but the wife.

5 Don’t deprive one another, unless it is by consent for a season, that you may give yourselves to fasting and prayer, and may be together again, that Satan doesn’t tempt you because of your lack of self-control. 6 But this I say by way of concession, not of commandment.

7 Yet I wish that all men were like me. However, each man has his own gift from God, one of this kind, and another of that kind. 8 But I say to the unmarried and to widows, it is good for them if they remain even as I am. 9 But if they don’t have self-control, let them marry. For it’s better to marry than to burn.

He stopped. Had he really just read what he thought he’d read? He looked at verse nine again and the words seemed to leap off the page at him “But if they don’t have self-control, let them marry. For it’s better to marry than to burn.”

He stood up so fast that the chair he had been sitting in fell to the floor. His mind rebelled at what he’d just read. But what about decency? What about setting an example to the believers he taught? He picked up the chair and set it under the writing desk. Then paced back and forth to the other side of the room, as the thought came to him.

“But are you being an example if you wait the proper time and can’t control your thoughts and feelings toward her? How long before you find another excuse to take her in your arms, onto your lap? How long before you find a way to kiss her like you want to do? Even if no one but your chaperone or family sees, what will that do to your reputation? How much worse will your guilt be?”

He took his marker out of Song of Solomon and put it where he’d just read. He needed wise counsel, and he knew exactly who to go to. There was only one person who would hear his entire tale and not judge him too harshly. It might disappoint him, but he wouldn’t say anything to anyone else.

Joshua scooped up the Bible and Hattie’s letter and headed across the street and up the backstairs to his uncle’s place. It was daylight, so he didn’t knock. He knew his aunt and uncle would be up and dressed. His aunt and uncle looked up as he entered.

“Joshua, I’m just about to serve up your uncle’s breakfast, would you like some?”

“Thank you, Aunty. I guess I should eat, but what I really need is to talk to Uncle Jethro.”

“Is there a problem, Joshua? Something to do with your young lady or the baby?”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that. I...” He stopped talking. He didn’t want to admit to them his problem.

“Sit down, Joshua.” His uncle pointed to the chair across from him. “I wondered how long it would take you to come see me.”