A Forbidden Union Read online

  A Forbidden Union

  by Lorraine James

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  A FORBIDDEN UNION

  Copyright © 2012 LORRAINE JAMES

  ISBN 978-1-62135-065-1

  Cover Art Designed by For the Muse Designs

  Chapter One

  August 1862—Kentucky

  The glory of the angel’s being filled her bedroom for the second evening. She’d been asleep only an hour when she became aware of the creature. The entity wore robes of gold, as she’d heard that Angels of Truth did when they visited mortals.

  It’s a visitation. I’m blessed. Anna bowed her head, and the wood floor scraped her knees. It feels so real.

  “Yes, what would you have of me?” she whispered. The room grew warmer as if bathed in holy light.

  The faceless creature, terrible in its golden beauty, just hovered there for a long moment. Its wings and arms spread — joined like one in the same. Shuddering at the terrible awesomeness of the figure, Anna covered her eyes for fear of going blind.

  “Please. I need to know. I have so many questions.” Anna’s voice broke.

  “Take care of the one I send.” The voice washed over her like a multitude of women with sweet murmurs hushing a baby.

  “But how will I know whom you send?” Anna bent lower as the room grew still brighter.

  “Keep your ears open and your heart to God.”

  The room was sucked into pitch blackness, and Anna gasped, wide awake in the void of night. A simultaneous feeling of elation and horrible loss consumed her.

  I’ve been called, but what of my doubts?

  ****

  Anna rubbed her eyes and sighed.

  “Time to wake up, dear. The day begins.” Her mother whispered the words in her ear, her voice as sweet as always, but the call to awaken wasn’t.

  Twenty-year-old Anna slouched out of bed, studying the patchwork on the hardwood floor made by the early morning sun — the first rays of the day. Four-thirty came earlier each time, it seemed, here and only the mellow tone of the pink-streaked, summer sky made it more bearable. The visions she’d had weeks ago were vague, like silly dreams now, but she couldn’t shake them off entirely.

  “Coming, sister.” Anna dressed quickly in her light blue dress and white head covering.

  Morning chores awaited her along with checking on the bees and their progress. At least she would have Mary to talk to as she worked on the hives. Her main job consisted of that and of nursing some of the sick in the community when needed. She had a knack for it and quick hands.

  The now familiar ache that had settled in her heart months ago made its presence known.

  What is wrong with me? Why can’t I be content with an uncomplicated life of work and devotion to God? These are the simple gifts, as Mother Ann said.

  The thought of the founder of the Shaker faith, and the teachings she had handed down almost a hundred years ago now, made Anna sigh again. I’ll never live up to my life here.

  Anna swept the bedrooms with ferocity, trying to deaden her thoughts. She moved her body in a gentle sway, humming “Simple Gifts” and other songs of the community. I wish I were in service, dancing.

  She leaned on the broom handle for a moment, tears filling her eyes. The only time I feel I should be here is when I’m dancing with the others — in harmony with God.

  Shaking her head, she returned to her sweeping. Tonight would come soon enough, and she could be free again, moving her body. All eyes stayed her way when she danced, even in praise to God. It wasn’t a sinful thing, just admiration for the angels’ work within her, the elders and eldresses said. Anna was pleased to be used in such a way by God.

  She frowned and set to work again.

  ****

  A few hours later, after the menfolk had come inside and eaten a hearty breakfast with the women following suit, Anna left her house to walk across the field to John Weston’s house where the bees were kept. She’d been tending to them for a few years, having a natural rhythm with the insects where others avoided even trying the work.

  “Sister Anna!” Mary ran over and hugged her.

  She squeezed her friend back. Their natural affection had only grown since their birthdays — just two days apart. Their families were great friends in the community that had gone through a period of new converts as well. Even as others joined the village, the girls’ close friendship remained untouched.

  “Good afternoon. How are the bees?” She followed the slight, dark Mary to the boxes and donned a pair of gloves that were there.

  “Happy as usual in summer.” Her friend smiled.

  They worked in silence for a while, harvesting honey from the boxes. The sweet, cloying scent of honey rose up around them. The bees were used to them and rarely got stirred up. “Sister Mary…Anna broke off.

  “What? What’s on your mind? I know there’s been something for a while. You can’t hide it from me.” Mary gave her a sideways smile.

  “I know. I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. I still don’t know if I am, but you’re my best friend.” She swallowed hard, taking off her gloves as the sun rose higher in the sky.

  “Let’s go inside and get some water and lunch.”

  Anna nodded and followed her friend, stretching her back as she walked. The day wasn’t yet half over, and already she was exhausted.

  They sat down to a simple lunch of cold chicken, potatoes, and stewed squash.

  “So, what is it?” Mary reached out a hand to Anna.

  “I don’t know exactly. I’ve been feeling restless.” Anna sighed, tears pricking her eyes.

  “It’s summer. Perhaps that’s normal.” Mary patted her hand.

  “I don’t think so. I keep wondering how my life might be different if I weren’t here — if Mother — I mean, Sister and Brother — had never come to the community.” Anna took a bite of chicken, her appetite gone.

  “That’s normal. I’ve thought of it before, but my place is here, living simply and following Mother Ann’s teachings.” Mary’s eyes shined with her words.

  She’s a true believer. I don’t know if I ever have been. I’ve doubted our way of life ever since I was thrust into this as a child.

  “Perhaps it is, but I feel as if something must change — either inside me or outside. And I question the teachings at times. Mother Ann was a wonderful woman, but all her children died. Some say her marriage was unhappy. I’m not sure her way was right for all.” She shrugged.

  “Sister Anna, you should be glad you spoke to me of this. Others wouldn’t take it so kindly, as you know, seeing as Mother Ann was… well, we believe… Christ’s second coming.” Mary’s throat moved as she swallowed, and her eyes widened. “This is quite serious, I see now.” She gave her friend a shaky smile. “Pray a bit harder. Seek God more fervently. He will show you the way.” Mary cleared the dishes.

  “I hope so.” Anna smiled, feeling a bit better, if not convinced.

  “Perhaps it’s more difficult for you because your parents joined after you were born.”

  Anna sighed. “I don’t know. I was too young to remember life beyond playing with my cousins before we became Shakers. My parents seem happy enough, but I
always wonder… She trailed off, unwilling to voice her many questions.

  Mary nodded. “Still, perhaps there’s something to it. I’ve always been here.” She shrugged. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to question my life.”

  “And everyone is so kind here in the village. It is close to a paradise on earth. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Anna stood, clenching her fists.

  “Nothing, perhaps. You are a young woman — younger even than I. Many have questioned. Some have left. You will have to decide. I hope you will stay. You’re my sister.” Mary blinked hard. “Questioning is not a sin. An idle mind and hands that can lead to such questioning is, though.” She cleared her throat and looked away.

  “I know, and I work not to keep mind and hands idle. I must go home and help with the washing. Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” Anna squeezed her friend’s arms, readjusting her bonnet for the bright sunlight.

  “Of course. Blessings, sister.”

  “Blessings.” She strode out into bright sunlight, the bees’ buzzing a salve for her soul.

  ****

  The next days passed in relative peace. Anna’s heart still hung heavy, but she tried to push her thoughts out of mind.

  I’ll think about it closer to my birthday next March.

  The days whirled away into late August, when the air grew stifling.

  Anna and her family walked over to the simple, white chapel for evening worship.

  “Do you hear that?” Anna’s father, Matthew Broche, asked.

  “I do. Gunfire and cannons.” The other elder of their household, Brother Michael, answered.

  “The war has made it here. It was only a matter of time,” her mother whispered. “Such bloodshed and waste is war.”

  Anna shivered, wondering at what must be happening. Freedom of the slaves is a moral thing, but killing is not, even though the world’s people use it to solve every problem, it seems.

  “As Mother Ann once said, ‘You will never kill the Devil with the sword.’ Surely it is true.” Her father — now only brother to her, like anyone else — sniffed. “I’m grateful that we have our Zion here among the rolling hills.” He swept an arm out toward the dusk-covered hillside.

  Anna took a deep breath. I, too, am glad in times such as these.

  She gave herself to full worship that evening, her feet moving in the sweet, remembered movements of the dance. Never had it felt so sweet to lift her hands in the familiar motions of each song or move her feet around the circle with her brethren and sisters. White bonnets floated in tandem with the tall heads of the men in their blue jackets. The music in the chapel rose high above the rooftop, drowning out the sounds of guns and cannons.

  The words of the music rose above them all:

  ‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free

  ‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

  And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

  ‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

  When true simplicity is gain’d,

  To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d,

  To turn, turn will be our delight,

  Till by turning, turning we come ‘round right.

  She whirled until her breath came hard and fast, ecstasy bubbling up from inside her soul. The brethren and sisters murmured words of goodbye to each other.

  “Feeling better, Sister Anna?” Mary asked her, her cheeks pink as they exited the church.

  “Yes, I am. My spirit is at peace. The dancing always makes it so.” She laughed.

  “That’s what it’s meant to do. Mother Ann knew that it helped with our carnal appetites, bowing them to God’s will.” Mary winked, and Anna laughed.

  “Yes, I can see that.” The two walked in companionable silence until the air boomed with cannon fire again.

  Anna imagined she heard screaming and shuddered.

  “Lord, grant them and us peace,” Mary whispered.

  Tendrils of fear and anxiety gripped Anna, despite the enjoyment of the dance. “Yes, Father.” Her whisper floated on the night air as more gunfire sounded in staccato, breaking the quiet of evening.

  ****

  Anna woke up with a better attitude than she had experienced for weeks. She hummed a tune of worship and danced as she donned her olive green dress and white bonnet. The bees would be fine for today, but she had flowers to tend in the communal spaces of the village.

  She drank some water and walked out the front door of the little house. Staring toward the gardens of the community, she threw her head back, tipping her bonnet to the side to get more sun.

  The women won’t see me. No one else seems to be out yet.

  “Miss. Miss, please.” A whisper from the bushes caught her attention.

  “Who’s there?” Her heart flew to her throat. Strange indeed for someone to be out in the bushes at this time of morning.

  She stopped in the road. The words of the Angel of Truth came back to her.

  Listen…

  “Please. Won’t you help me? I’m hurt.” The voice was male and raspy.

  Anna rushed toward the bushes. An outstretched, bloodied hand met her gaze first. Then a face — so pale, yet so striking — dark lashes downcast, black hair damp. His gaze met hers — a pale green tint like the newest leaves in spring. His chin came to a heart-shaped point, but it was the only delicate thing about him.

  She gulped, sucking in a breath.

  “Please. I was wounded in the battle and escaped. Dragged myself here…” He gasped for air, and she took in the ugly, red, spreading circle on his left side.

  “I’ll get you some help.”

  She ran back home, not bothering to think about what she did. The man’s green eyes stayed in her mind, and tears filled her own at the thought of his wound.

  So much blood. I hope it’s not too late.

  “Help. Please, sisters, brothers!” Her yelling made her mother start and her father rise from his place at the table, where he was drinking a cup of coffee before the hard day of work.

  “What’s this uproar?” Her father moved to the door.

  “A man. A soldier has been hurt. I suppose he dragged himself to our village.” Her eyes filled with tears at the memory of him.

  So pale.

  “Oh my.” Her mother put a hand to her mouth as they all ran out the door, following Anna.

  Anna’s legs burned by the time she reached the bushes. The hand that had been poking out of the greenery was gone.

  “Sir? Sir?” she whispered.

  A feeble moan answered her call.

  “He’s here.”

  Her father pursed his lips as Anna bent over the young man.

  He’s about my age — perhaps only twenty like me.

  Her father spoke to her mother. “Sister, let’s go get a cot, and I’ll find some other brothers to aid us.”

  “Sister Anna.” His voice held a stern note, so she tore her attention away from the bruised face of the soldier.

  “Stay here with him. Try to keep him comfortable until we return.”

  “I will.” She forgot her father as soon as his and her mother’s footsteps receded.

  “They’ll return in just a moment. You will be fine. We’ll take care of you.” She whispered the words as she would have to a scared, small child.

  He’s a Union solder. The dirty blue uniform gives him away. At least he was fighting for the right, though the Lord knows fighting is wrong.

  “Thank you. I grow weaker. I spent most of the night and morning here.” He swallowed, his eyes closing.

  “Stay with me, please.” She choked back emotion, moved by his struggle and his beauty. It had been some time since a young man had graced the community. Most were older than Anna or too young for her to notice other than in a caregiving manner. The elders and eldresses liked it that way, too. Less temptation in a place where celibacy was a law, and even her own parents lived as brother and sister only.

  “I’ll
try.” He gave her a weak smile, and a dimple on the left side made her suck in a breath.

  He’s like an angel come from heaven.

  “What is your name?” She whispered the words, putting a hand to his forehead, even as her pulse raced at the touch. Brothers and sisters did not touch.

  He’s so warm with fever.

  “Daniel Greenleaf.”

  “Oh.” The word clung to her tongue, a stupid syllable.

  “And yours?” He winced with each word, squeezing his eyes shut.

  “Shh. Save your energy.” She brushed damp tendrils of dark hair from his forehead. “It’s Anna. Anna Broche, but we don’t use first names like the world’s people do — not without sister in front.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me.” He gasped. “Pretty name… Anna.” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace.

  “Was the fighting awful?”

  “Yes, it was, but we won the battle. I was just unlucky. I got disoriented and was left for dead, I think.”

  “Don’t talk about it now. All will be well.” Her voice trembled.

  “Out of the way, sister. We need to get him to the house.” Her mother’s words were like flint.

  Anna stood up in one swift motion, her face burning. They saw me touch his face… maybe.

  She moved over to the side of the action, avoiding Daniel’s gaze as elders and eldresses helped load him onto a makeshift cot. His moans came like knives to her heart.

  When has a man looked into my eyes as he did? When has my heart fluttered as he made it do?

  She tried to brush the thoughts aside. He’s wounded and would have looked at any woman who had rescued him the same way — as a harbinger of mercy and grace.

  They left her standing there, and Anna allowed the tears to fall. I hope he survives this.

  Her heart lifted when they turned in to her house. He’s going to be near me. That’s enough for the moment.

  ****

  Mary drilled her with questions as she tended to a flowerbed. Anna enjoyed the work but didn’t get to do it enough with her other duties. Her winters were spent with the sick and her springs with the bees.

  “Who was he? Is he in your home now?”

  “Yes, he is.” She avoided her friend’s all-too-knowing gaze.