Healing of the Heart: A Shumard Oak Bend Novel (Discerning God’s Best Book 4)

Chapter 6

August, 1871Thomas

“Looking good, Thomas. Looking good.” Douglass brushed the shoulder of Thomas’s new suit.

Thomas buttoned the front of the jacket and bent his arms, testing out what he expected to be a constricting feeling, but the fabric gave with each motion.

“Mrs. Douglass—” Thomas started.

“Harriet,” she scolded.

The woman’s eyebrows moved up toward the gray strands poking out from beneath the front of a mob cap like what Grammie and Aunt Aideen had worn a decade ago. He wanted to hug this woman, but he found his side pockets with his hands instead.

“Harriet. I’ve never had such finery. And thank you for the shirt. Aunt Martha would marvel at these stitches.”

“Who do you think taught her?” A tinge of color graced the woman’s cheeks even as she smiled.

Douglass pulled his wife close. “Fine job as always, my dear. Thomas, where are you going to wear this one?”

Thomas ran his fingers over the wings of the jacket’s pressed collar. “Service tomorrow morning. Then there’s a gathering of new students at the Whitaker home on Monday evening. Maybe I should wear the charcoal gray one for that?” Thomas felt overwhelmed at the list he’d received of mandatory social functions.

“This morning coat is all the new fashion but is considered casual attire in the circles you’ll be swirling in.” Harriet held up a deep charcoal gray wool. “Now, this frock will work for social occasions. The satin waistcoat of this suit rivals any other out there.” Harriet’s flush deepened.

“No one sews like you, my dear.” Douglass turned his attention from his wife to Thomas. “Young man, you need a respectable hat.”

Harriet reached for a box on the kitchen chair. “And shoes. Pointed-toe boots may work in the wilds of Missouri, but you’re a city boy now. Open it.”

Firelight glinted off the shine of the black shoes. The squared toe looked foreign and expensive. The ever-increasing knot in Thomas’s stomach tightened. He ran his fingers through his hair. He likely also needed a haircut—so many expenses.

“Now, son, don’t you be fretting over cost.” Harriet ran her fingers over the soft leather. “There’s a story behind them shoes. They came to me in payment of a sort. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do with them, and I certainly didn’t need them. Figured the Lord had a plan. Well, he did.”

The soft thump of a wooden heel on the floor drew Thomas’s attention. He stared at the shoes she’d placed before him. “Mrs. Douglass—Harriet, I can’t accept these without giving you payment. Tell me what they’re worth, and I’ll gladly compensate you.”

“There’ll be none of that.” The authority and finality in Douglass’s tone was clear even as the lines around the man’s eyes softened.

Neither the action nor the words did anything to clear the tension in Thomas’s gut. This family had less than he did. He was young and capable. A few extra work hours each week on top of classes were doable if he could find work to accommodate his schedule.

Harriet placed the second shoe on the floor and scooted it closer to Thomas with her foot. “Try them on. If they fit, well, then, you’ll know this is from the Lord. It’s no gift from me.”

His Adam’s apple felt stuck in his throat, and he worked to swallow it down. He’d be able to refuse them if they didn’t fit. He removed his boot and slid his stockinged foot into the supple leather. Softness wrapped around his foot like a well-worn riding glove. He removed the second boot without thought and looked down at the oddly shaped shoes that felt like a second skin.

“That’s what I thought. God’s done it again.” Harriet’s words were a mixture of awe and fulfilled expectation.

“I can’t—” Thomas began.

“Oh, yes, you can. Don’t be telling God what you can and cannot do when He’s been planning on those shoes fitting your feet from before I even knew what to do with them. God works all things for good and knows what you need before you need it.” Harriet’s hands moved to her hips as she spoke.

Thomas had enough history with the Lord to know God sometimes worked this way. He’d just never been the recipient of a gift such as this. A mist clouded his vision, and he reached into his back pocket for his handkerchief, only to realize it wasn’t there.

“My wife’s got that covered, too.” Douglass placed a small white cotton square in Thomas’s hand.

Thomas’s thumb moved over the letters TS embroidered in a thread of pale gray the color of Grammie’s eyes. Whether overwhelmed from the kindness, pangs of homesickness, God’s provision, or worry about how much all these items would cost, he didn’t know, but tears threatened to form. He forced his spine straighter and clenched his jaw.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder. Embarrassed by his emotion, Thomas swiped the soft cotton square across his eyes. It smelled of lavender and sandalwood. He inhaled deeply, allowing the fragrance to calm him, then worked to clear the tightness from his throat. “How much . . .”

“That’s my wife’s department. She’s got it all written down. You try on the other suit, and I’ll get the coffee on. You can discuss figures over a piece of gingerbread cake.”

Thomas missed the man’s touch immediately.

Harriet helped remove the suit jacket he wore and gave him a nudge toward the open bedroom door. “Go on, now. I need to make sure the second pair of trousers is a good fit. And change that bow tie for the white one on the bed. White ties are what all the men are wearing these days at formal events.”

Thomas obeyed and then looked in the mirror. He ran his fingers over the fitted garment that flared at the waist. His fingers tripped over the buttons trailing down the torso, pulling his eye to the hem that reached just above his knee. His gaze traced back up to his now-squared shoulders. If he didn’t speak, perhaps he could pass as one of them. Panic crept into his increasingly knotted gut. What was he doing? He didn’t know how to maneuver in high society. He was just a farm boy from Missouri.

Thomas picked up the handkerchief and breathed deeply of its calming scent. It would impress Robin, or Singing Bird, as he’d first known her, that these easterners knew lavender’s value in calming nerves. She’d have added bergamot, but the sandalwood grounded him with its manly scent.

Knock, knock. “Thomas, you need help with that tie?” Harriet asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I could use some assistance.” Thomas unlatched the door and handed her the white tie. Chin lifted, he allowed her deft fingers to lift his collar and work the tie into a large knot before returning the cotton of his shirt to its former state, where it hugged the white fabric of the tie.

Harriet stepped back, her head tilting and perusing him from the shoes up. “My Douglass is right. You’ll be needing a proper hat.” As his mother would have done, she moved the wave of hair hanging over his left eyebrow and allowed it to fall back into its natural position.

Thomas watched a sheen cover her deep brown eyes. She pulled her lips in and swallowed.

“Douglass, take this boy to Fareira’s, then get him to the barber when you’ve finished. Thomas, don’t you let Mr. Fareira’s workers talk you into something fancy. You go with a simple, factory-made felt, not one of last season’s tall top hats. Choose a modest one. You don’t want to draw more attention to yourself than you already will.” Harriet stared at his eyes.

Thomas knew his blue eyes often caused people to take an over-long look in his direction. But he assumed Harriet meant more than the color of his eyes would cause him to stick out in a group of Philadelphia elites. Nervous energy found its way to his toes, and he drew them in, then spread them freely in his shoes. He willed himself to calm down, then realized Harriet was still speaking.

“An opera hat might serve you well, but a Wellington style should do just fine. Fareira’s should have plenty of those in stock.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he choked out.

Harriet cocked her head again, but this time with a furrowed brow. She seemed to look straight into his heart. She nodded once, then clenched her jaw, flattening her lips into a thin line.

“Coffee’s ready,” Douglass called from a few feet away.

Thomas could use a cup. “Let me change, and I’ll be right back.” The soft clip of Thomas’s new shoes followed him to the bedroom. He laid the three-piece suit, tie, and crisp shirt on the bed, smoothing the wrinkles. His old clothes felt familiar and worn, but surprisingly, they weren’t as comfortable as the formalwear he’d just removed.

Rows of shelving wrapped around the upper wall, starting a foot below the ceiling. Stacks of fabric from blue to brown to black lined the bottom shelf like a storm coming in over the horizon. The middle shelf looked more like a rainbow after a storm, and Thomas marveled at the variety of colors and textures. Clouds lined the top shelf, from rough white cotton to creamy pale yellows, some with a sheen reflecting the last rays of sunlight through a westward-facing window. Threads in every color competed for space with some baskets of notions and tins he expected held buttons.

Memories of sitting on the floor with Delphina’s button tin and stringing buttons together while she sewed filled his mind. Memories were a gift he cherished. The smell of coffee and the spicy tang of ginger and molasses greeted him when he opened the door.

Douglass offered Harriet a chair. “Come, dear. Let’s enjoy a few moments of rest and your fine cooking.”

He offered Thomas the other. Thomas shook his head. He’d stand.

“Now, son, I made me a special chair just this week, hoping you might come regular-like.” Douglass pulled a three-legged stool from underneath the table.

“You know how to handle a piece of oak.” Thomas ran his hand over the smooth wood.

“Ah, nothing but a little sand, linseed oil, and a whole lot of elbow grease.” Douglass’s words sounded like it was nothing special, but the upward tilt of his chin and the square of his shoulders let Thomas know he appreciated hearing the compliment. Thomas allowed the man the privilege of sitting on the fine piece of furniture and took the chair across from Harriet.

Thomas ran his fingertip along the edge of the smooth tabletop and marveled at the workmanship. Even though the table showed much use, it had aged gracefully. He lowered his hand to his lap, and Harriet did the same. A contented sigh escaped her lips that curved into a smile as Douglass placed a dark piece of cake dusted in powdered sugar in front of her.

“Thank you,” Harriet said.

There was no endearment, but there was a tenderness in her words. How Douglass served his wife, even before a guest, spoke to Thomas’s heart. He waited until Douglass had taken his seat and Harriet had taken her first bite before he poked the tines of his fork into the spongy dessert.

The smooth texture of fine flour melded with the bite of strong molasses. A plump raisin complemented the strong taste of ginger. He closed his eyes and took in the mixture of flavors and textures. A contented sound escaped his lips as his fork toyed with another morsel.

“Sour cream.” Harriet pointed to the cake on Thomas’s plate with her fork.

“Excuse me?”

“The secret ingredient. Sour cream. Sometimes, I use buttermilk, but sour cream keeps it moist longer. Not that it lasts long in this house.” She winked at Douglass.

“You are a fine cook, Harriet. And seamstress.” Thomas placed his fork on the side of the empty earthenware plate and wiped his mouth. “I’m not sure I can afford you, but I’d like to settle up.” He attempted a laugh at his hurried words, but it sounded forced.

“Now, before you go getting all worked up about price, I want to tell you a story.” Harriet nodded a thanks as Douglass cleared the table. “During the war, my employer vowed to pay us in any way he could. Those whose husbands were serving and had children got the first choice of whatever Mr. Talbot had to give. Sometimes, he had items he’d traded for, like dried fruit, beans, and produce. Other times, it was eggs and venison from people settling up their accounts. But he always paid us workers.”

Harriet sipped slowly, her hands grasping the mug as if to soak in the warmth.

“My Douglass and I needed little. We worked a garden out back and canned, and the Pennypackers were good to us. I knew those other worker’s families needed the food more than we did, so I asked to be paid in notions. One week, Mr. Talbot would give me the ends of the bolts. Other times, he’d give me a few spools of thread and a box of buttons. Those shoes were one payment.”

Harriet took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “Douglass added shelving in our room, and I’ve been stockpiling. Someday, I may have enough to start a little shop right here in South Philly. Black folk and immigrants need clothes, too. There’s no reason they can’t have good quality. Why, I could sew for all types of working-class folk from South Street to the Delaware River, and all the way to the Schuylkill River. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Douglass beamed at his wife, shaking his head with every word she uttered. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

Thomas marveled at the woman’s attitude and aspirations, as well as the strong support of her loving husband. The cake settled more easily, and he took a swig of the strong coffee.

Harriet continued, “So, you can pay me for my time and the white fabric I needed for the tie, but you won’t be giving me a cent more. God provided, and I aim to honor His faithfulness with a bit of my own. Now, if you want to send some business my way, I won’t turn that down.”

Harriet pulled a torn edge of a magazine with figures written in the margin from her apron and slid it across the table. Her finger tapped the figure at the bottom twice before returning to her lap. The figures blurred. Although it was still a fair amount for the price of labor, it was nothing compared to what he’d expected.

“Thank you,” he choked out. He wiped non-existent crumbs from his lips before replacing the napkin, then pulled his wallet from his coat pocket. The new federal bank notes crinkled as he placed them before Harriet. His last feelings of concern and stress dissipated. He’d have enough for a hat and haircut, with a few dollars to spare from his clothing allowance. Warmth filled his belly, releasing the last of the tension.

Douglass clapped his hands on his knees. “Day’s a wastin’, but before we head out, it would be an honor to pray with my new friend.”

The warmth of earlier spread, and Thomas pulled in a cleansing breath. God had blessed him beyond measure, and he sat in awe of His goodness.