Chapter 3
Church Raising
The
wind near the river disrupted Susannah’s carefully coifed curls. The voluminous
brown tresses often vexed her on such blustery days, but today in particular.
Why did Father insist
I help feed the workers? She
inwardly groaned at the task and wished she were at home, consumed in her
reading. Enmeshed in one of her favorite novels, Susannah could pretend she was
elsewhere. Anywhere but here.
Standing
near the loading ramp, she impatiently awaited the arrival of the ferry.
Modesty’s incessant chatter began to irritate her. The new maid was not shy in
the least, and often lacked discretion.
Would she ever stop
talking?
“Such
a lovely day, is it not, Miss Susannah? Why, a finer April I’ve never seen.
Even the river is fair peaceful. The ferry should be smooth as French silk—not
that you’d want to be seen wearing French silk, mind you. Not with those frogs
giving our fine sailors such grief on the high seas. My cousin in our fine Navy
must be near beside himself with those seafaring Frenchy ruffians.”
She
paused for a moment and Susannah grabbed her opportunity.
“Perhaps,
Modesty, we can put aside such political meanderings. After all, this church
raising should draw our minds toward our work for God, should it not?”
Modesty’s
face turned a bright red, emphasizing the Irish auburn color of her hair even
further.
“Aye,
miss, you do speak God’s truth.” She looked at the ground as the ferry drew
closer to the landing.
“Well,
Modesty, here it is. Do watch your skirts on the damp wood.” Susannah hiked up
her gown a mere inch or two. Looking back at Modesty, Susannah inwardly groaned
as she observed the maid draw hers upwards several inches, exposing a
sufficient amount of her stocking-covered legs to draw the obvious attention of
three men stepping onto the ferry behind them.
Susannah
blushed with humiliation when she heard them whispering and chuckling in a
manner that one hears from workmen with their minds in the gutter.
Scoundrels.
She glared at the three, which promptly arrested any further laughter
from the working class fellows.
Hill people. She huffed.
Standing
next to the railing, Susannah glanced at her maid.
“You
can let your gown down now, Modesty.” She kept her voice low.
The
maid quickly opened her chubby fingers and released the material, apparently
oblivious to the stares she was getting. She was too busy taking in the
surroundings, grinning from ear to ear.
“It’s
been many a day since I’ve ridden this ferry, miss. I so love an adventure.”
Susannah
rolled her eyes. “It’s just across the river, Modesty. Not much of a journey.”
“Aye,
but it’s such a delight.” Her gaze wandered incessantly from the scenery to the
faces of those on board. Suddenly her eyes seemed to lock on something. Or someone.
“Well,
looka there, miss.” Her lips slowly curved upward into a wide grin. “Now a
finer face on a man I ne’er did see. Look.”
Much
to Susannah’s horror Modesty pointed right at the last passenger boarding and
spun Susannah to face him. After he boarded, he leaned over the ferry rail next
to a friend, looking for all the world as if he would lose his breakfast into
the swirling water of the river.
Susannah
swung away, seething. “Do not do that again, Modesty. You have embarrassed me
beyond words.”
Intense
heat flooded both cheeks as she stared down at the water, trying to appear
aloof. Her bonnet flapped slightly in the wind and she grabbed the crown to be
sure it would not lift from her head. Retying the ribbons holding the striped
linen bonnet in place, she was startled by a slight commotion.
“Blast!
There goes my cap.” The dark-haired man who had caught Modesty’s attention
reached toward the water as if his hands could will the head covering back into
his desperate grip. But the woolen hat sailed downstream, seemingly intent upon
its own adventure.
Looks like someone in
Hartford will be wearing that now.
Susannah smirked.
“Poor
lad. That’ll cost him a half dollar at least.” Modesty shook her head.
“It’s only a hat. I’m certain he can replace it quite easily at my
father’s store.”
“True
enough, miss. But I wager that fifty cents will cost him dear.” Modesty
revealed a sly grin. “Perhaps I might comfort the man with some sympathy.”
Susannah
recognized that glint in her servant’s eyes and she pulled back on Modesty’s
arm.
“We
shall not approach that man. That is most unladylike.”
Modesty
snorted. “No one’s ever accused me of being a lady, miss.”
Not
surprising.
“Even
so, we shall not approach him. We have work to do today. Let us concentrate on
how we may serve the workers raising the new church building.”
Although
Modesty appeared to disengage from the man and his friend, Susannah knew she
had best keep an eye on her. It had been only two weeks since Susannah’s
arrival in Springfield, but Modesty’s ways were easily recognized.
The
ferry slowly made its way across the Connecticut with a lulling sound.
Modesty is
right about one thing. This lovely day is a balm to my soul.
Inhaling
the fresh spring air, Susannah’s gaze slowly wandered toward the back of the ferry
and, against her better judgment, came to rest on the now-hatless passenger.
With his cap gone, his dark brown hair
gleamed in the bright sunlight. Masses of curls stopped just past the nape of
his neck, encompassing a face that was astonishingly handsome. He did not seem
to notice her staring at him as he surveyed the water. His fine nose was
straight, his jaw firm, and—what she could see of his lips in profile—were so
full that they appeared to pout.
Susannah
did not know how long she lingered on his visage, but when he turned her way,
her stare was met by the greenest pair of deep-set eyes she had ever seen. His
eyebrows furrowed and she snapped out of her trance, turning her face toward
the far shore.
“So
you noticed him too, miss.” Modesty smirked playfully.
Susannah
pretended to focus on something of interest on the far shore. “I’ve no idea
what you mean.”
Modesty
snorted, but remained mercifully quiet.
It
seemed like an hour had passed, but it took a mere fifteen minutes for the
wooden ferry to reach West Springfield. As the ferry workers unfolded the ramp,
it landed with a thud on the shore. The passengers disembarked. Susannah
refused to look at the man who had monopolized her attention and followed the
others on the pathway leading up the hill toward the building site. A group of
men were being served breakfast on long tables set up for the gathering.
A
middle-aged woman with cherubic cheeks and an impish smile approached Susannah.
“Good
day, my dear. We have not been formally introduced but I have met your kind
father and I do so see your resemblance to him. I am Missus John Ashley,
consort of Deacon Ashley who is behind this inspiring project. Thank you for
agreeing to help serve our workers on this noble construction of First Church.”
The
woman’s smile was so engaging, Susannah could not help but feel her heart
warmed.
“Good
day, Missus Ashley. I am most anxious to be of service in this fine project.
This is my maid, Modesty.”
“Welcome
to you, as well. And such a lovely day we are blessed with!” The woman fairly
oozed enthusiasm. “My dear husband says it is not just a fine project but a
most necessary one. Why, the last meetinghouse was worse in the rain than if
we’d been standing underneath an open cloud! But come, let me show you where
you’ll be helping.”
Missus
Ashley gently drew the taller young woman to the huge kettles of simmering
stews.
“Here
is an apron, my dear. No sense in soiling your fine dimity.”
Susannah
left her bonnet on to protect her skin from the sunlight, but removed her pelisse
and laid it carefully on an empty chair. Tying the linen apron around her
slender waist, she smoothed the crisp material and looked around, wondering
where to start.
“Several
new workers have just arrived, Miss Dobbins. Why don’t you carry these plates
to them?” The older woman handed her two plates and then two more to Modesty.
Walking
toward the long cloth-covered tableboard, Susannah slowed her walking pace as
her heart quickened. The man with the
green eyes.
Modesty saw him at the same instant.
“Oooo, miss, there he is.” She giggled, far too loudly.
“Hush, Modesty.” Susannah whispered harshly, her cheeks flaming.
Taking a deep breath, she approached the hatless man and his friend.
“May I serve you, gentlemen?”
Why I am calling these
workers “gentlemen”?
Susannah was all too aware that these men were not of her class.
So why am I so nervous?
“Thank you, miss.” The blond-haired worker who still had his woolen cap
intact grinned awkwardly. “Not exactly used to such service from a fine lady.”
Susannah noticed Green Eyes furrowing his eyebrows sternly at his
friend. Then those eyes met hers.
“Thank you, miss.” He took the plate carefully and stared up at her
before setting it down. Picking up his pewter fork, he gingerly moved the food
around, as if afraid it might be poison.
She tried to smother her rising irritation. “Is the food not to your
liking, sir?”
He looked up at her again and stared for a moment.
“’Tis fine, miss.”
Where have I seen that
face?
She started to move away, but the blond-haired friend gave an
embarrassed grin.
“He’s not quite himself today. Had too late a night with the boys.
Didn’t ya?” He poked his hatless friend in the side and laughed. The man turned
a deep shade of red but did not look up at Susannah.
So that’s where I’ve seen
that face. The drunk in the street! Wretched man. And now here to help in the
Lord’s work? Outrageous.
She stalked away, followed closely by Modesty. The servant girl turned
toward Susannah as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Did you see those fine green eyes? Wouldn’t you like to look at those
every morning?” Her enthusiastic giggles threatened to turn the conversation
downright bawdy.
“Modesty! If you please! We will not indulge our salacious natures in
our thoughts or our speech. Is that clear?”
The servant’s countenance fell. “Yes, miss.” Her voice lowered almost to
a whisper.
Susannah turned back toward the kettles to collect more serving plates.
Why did Father ask me to
come here. I just want to go home.
At the thought of home, Susannah nearly burst into tears.
I cannot cry here.
Certainly not in view of complete strangers.
She turned away from the kettles, widened her eyes and sniffed sharply.
Refusing to give in to her grieving heart, she refocused on the task at hand.
The satiated workers began to vacate the tables one-by-one. Susannah
watched most of the men stretch their limbs and pat their leather work belts
before heading toward the wood frame of the new church building. But Green Eyes
remained at his table, eating slowly.
Clearing away the dirty plates, Susannah felt someone’s hands gently
grab her arms from behind. Missus Ashley was at her side, her sparkling smile
brimming with mischief.
“Miss Dobbins, why don’t you sit for awhile? You’ve been working so hard
and you are still recovering from your long journey to Springfield. Come sit
here, my dear.”
Much to Susannah’s horror, Missus Ashley navigated Susannah over to the
table where Green Eyes sat. He was obviously laboring to finish his first plate
when Missus Ashley plopped Susannah down on the bench next to him, much too
close.
She quickly inched away.
“Miss Dobbins, I would like you to meet Mr. Daniel Lowe. He is one of
our fine workers at the armory as well as a regular congregant of First Church.
A fine Christian man.”
Susannah narrowed her gaze.
She wanted to say, “Is that so?” Only her mother’s training in manners
rescued her from inflicting insult.
She cleared her throat.
“So pleased to meet you, Mr. Lowe.”
“Miss.”
“There. Now you are acquainted, I shall return to my tasks.” Missus
Ashley gave a positively mischievous grin to the two before heading back to the
kettles.
An awkward silence followed the departure of Missus Ashley, though
Susannah could hear the woman giggling in the distance with another cook.
Side-by-side, they both looked down at the table. Susannah fidgeted with
her thumbs and Mr. Lowe nervously rubbed his hand through one side of his hair.
Just when Susannah thought she could not take the tension any further, the
workman spoke up.
“Miss Dobbins, it is quite obvious how…uncomfortable…you are in my
presence. Please do not feel obliged to remain here and entertain me.” His
voice was surprisingly smooth and well spoken. Not at all what she imagined.
She glanced up at his eyes, which were fixed upon her. She cleared her
throat.
“Mr. Lowe, it is not that I am uncomfortable…” She closed her mouth when
he began to shake his head and gave a low, dismissive grunt.
“Please, Miss Dobbins. There is no need to explain. ’Tis quite obvious that I
am not…shall we say…well-suited to your station in life.” His face grew sober
and he rubbed his head as though it were in pain.
“It is not just your station, sir…”
“Ah, see, I was right.”
She flustered and sat up straighter. “That you are a workman
notwithstanding, your behavior of last night was appalling. I find it quite
shocking that you would carry on with your drunkenness and then make a mockery
of helping to build a church. The Lord’s meetinghouse!”
Mr. Lowe glared back. He kept his voice low but his words were pointed.
“Is it your custom, Miss Dobbins, to display yourself at your window for
all to see?”
Susannah gasped and threw her hands across her bodice.
“How dare you accuse me of such behavior! I…I…was merely preparing to
retire for the night when I was disturbed by you and your drunken friends.”
His gaze penetrating her to the core, Mr. Lowe leaned closer.
I wish his eyes were not
so disarming. He was leaning so close she could feel his
breath.
“You seem to so easily pass judgment on me, Miss Dobbins.”
She thought she saw pain glaze across his expression. He continued. “You
know naught of me. And perhaps it is better that way…for both of us.”
He grabbed his cloth napkin and wiped it fiercely across his mouth.
Throwing it on the table, he stood up and lifted his long legs one at a time
over the bench. Grabbing his hammer from his work belt, he stormed toward the
construction site.
She sat there for a moment, heart pounding and temples throbbing.
Insufferable man!
Within moments, Missus Ashley appeared.
“I see you two were getting to know one another.” There was that impish
smile lighting up her soft face.
“Yes. We certainly were.”
Susannah’s throat felt parched, making it difficult to swallow. She
grabbed a tankard of cider and took a long, unladylike swig.
Still shaking from the encounter, she barely concentrated on listening
to Missus Ashley.
“…such a shame about his family…”
Susannah was suddenly alert. “Shame? What shame?”
She noted the older woman’s sad expression.
“Why, his brother’s wife—his twin brother, no less. The wife died giving
birth, poor lass. Dan has not been himself since he got the news. Rode twenty
miles to and from the burial just yesterday, I hear.”
Deep regret swarmed over Susannah’s heart.
Looking down at her lap, she stammered. “No. No…I did not know.”
“Dan is very close to his family. But work was not to be found in his
village of Deer Run so he had to leave and find work at the armory. And a right
fine worker he is, says Mr. Ames. He’s the superintendent, you know.”
Missus Ashley paused briefly.
“Are you alright, my dear? You seem rather pale. Perhaps you should sit
under the chestnut tree and rest.”
“Yes, perhaps I should.”
She rose with difficulty and managed to make her way to the shade of the
overhanging limbs, despite her tremulous limbs. She sat on a blanket that
Missus Ashley laid on the ground. Leaning back on the trunk, she exhaled
slowly.
So he grieves as well.
What have I done?
Is there a story behind Through Rushing Water? 
I grew up in the DC area, surrounded by museums, old houses, and civil war battlefields. How influential that turned out to be!Where is your favorite place to travel/vacation in? My husband taught a class in France this summer. The only French word he knows is fromage, so I had to go along since I know how to say Je ne parle pas francais. From Monet's garden to a chocolate factory in Switzerland, we had a wonderful trip!
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