Chapter 19 Losing Faith
Chapter Nineteen
Losing Faith
When Josiah found Benjamin later that morning, he balked at the sight of his son half-draped over his bed, struggling vainly to pull himself onto the mattress.
“Benjamin!” Josiah exclaimed, rushing forward. “Where is Miss Boyd?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can take care of myself!
” Benjamin growled. Face pink with exertion, he gnashed his teeth and pulled himself upright.
As his father reached to help, he gave a fierce, “No!” and slipped, swearing sharply once he collapsed hard onto his side.
Hissing in pain, Benjamin grimaced and swallowed back his nausea.
“Please,” he begged, “please, just go. I can’t bear for you to see me this way. ”
Josiah harrumphed. “You are my son. If you cannot allow me into the darkest depths of your despair, then whom will you allow?”
The piercing edge to Benjamin’s gaze faded. “You know I trust you implicitly.”
“Then why are you shutting me out? ‘As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.’” Expression softening, he persisted, “Even the best and most useful blade cannot sharpen itself, Benjamin. We were created to help one another.” Extending his hand, Josiah entreated, “Allow me.”
This time, Benjamin acquiesced and took his father’s hand, clenching his jaw as together, they hefted his weight up onto the mattress. Benjamin fell face-first onto the bed, and after a bit of huffing and puffing, he rolled onto his back with Josiah’s help.
“Christ,” Benjamin swore. Catching his father’s admonishing look, he amended, “Sorry, sir… Camp life has spoiled my tongue.”
“Among other things,” Josiah muttered. “Your manners could use some work.”
“With all due respect, sir, my deportment is the absolute last thing on my mind.”
Sighing, Josiah sank onto the bed and patted Benjamin’s wrist. “This isn’t the end of the world. God has shown you much kindness in your plight.”
“Kindness?” Benjamin echoed. “You have lost two sons in this war, one to execution, and the other to lameness, yet you consider my plight a kindness?”
“You don’t know the ending of your story,” Josiah reminded him. “Perhaps this hindrance is exactly what you’ll need.”
Benjamin’s temper flared. “Wars have never been won fighting on one’s back. I am utterly useless this way—to myself, to you, and the cause.”
Josiah’s own temper sparked in his eyes.
“Sir, if I may…”
“No, you may not,” he snapped. “I know you are hurting, Benjamin, but you would do well to remember your teachings. Surely, you know you are never abandoned; not whenever you are so deeply surrounded by love.” When Benjamin shook his head, Josiah growled, “Are you so blinded by discontent, so consumed by arrogance that you believe yourself above all healing?”
“Sir—”
“You are not being punished, Benjamin, nor are you the first to experience a trial of this magnitude. You must keep the faith! You must hold on to those who love you!”
Benjamin flinched as though struck. “I’m trying,” he gritted. “Ever since this horrid war started, I have tried keeping my head above water. But the truth is, I don’t know what I believe in anymore.” He laughed wearily. “I am not Daniel.”
A thick silence followed, and Josiah rose from the bed. “I will leave you to your rest,” he murmured. “In a little while, I’ll have Miss Boyd come in with your dinner.”
Benjamin winced. “Don’t bother. She’s not staying.”
“Whyever not?”
“I kind of…told her to leave. And she agreed.”
Spearing his son with an admonishing look, Josiah finally noticed the scattered ceramic shards and items strewn across the floor. “I’ll tend to this in a few minutes,” he muttered. “If I find Miss Boyd and she still intends to help, I expect you to swallow your pride and apologize.”
Benjamin said nothing, so Josiah turned and left.
Not wishing to alert anyone to her departure, Clara escaped via window and started up the beaten path toward town.
Eyes swollen and heart heavy, she debated on how to proceed.
Did she truly wish to run? Why had she let Benjamin, a rebel who’d made her question her very stance on the wickedness of man, make her feel ugly, when all she’d wanted was to help?
“Miss?”
Hastily wiping her tears, Clara turned to discover a woman with deep brown eyes, dark hair, and pleasant smile lines.
“Apologies, ma’am,” she said, “but I thought I’d pop in and check on Josiah and his boy. Are you the caretaker Reverend Hoskin’s spoken so much about? Miss Boyd?”
Paling, Clara prayed she didn’t look upset as she replied, “I…am she, yes. Are you Mrs. Harriet Finch?”
The woman laughed in delight. “Oh, goodness, I’m so glad my reputation precedes me! Makes things easier that way, don’t you think?” Warmly, she lifted the tureen in her hands. “If you’re going to market, would you postpone? I made dinner for the Hoskinses, and I’d be honored if you joined us.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Finch, but I’m not hungry.” Clara’s voice came out far sharper than she intended, and her chin wobbled.
“What’s this then?” the woman asked, her eyes soft and probing. “You all right there?”
“No,” she whispered. I haven’t been all right for a long, long time.
“No?” Harriet echoed. “Well, that won’t do! Why don’t you walk with me, uh? I’ve got a good ear, and a sound mind. Honest! I can try and cure whatever ails ya…though this stew is a mighty good start.” She winked. “Take me up on my offer, Miss. Please.”
Clara sniffed, her shoulders sagging. She didn’t truly wish to leave—couldn’t—so she agreed, “Oh, very well. The Hoskinses just had breakfast, so you’re rather early for dinner.”
“I’m always early,” Harriet said. “That way, I can never be late.”
Clara hummed. “I suppose I cannot argue with such logic…” She waited for Harriet to take the lead. “How long have you known the Hoskinses?”
“Oh, goodness. My whole life! But that’s rather easy, when we all live in the same town.” Harriet smiled. “Is it like that where you hail from?”
“No.” Clara’s expression grew bitter. “New York City’s bustling with opportunity, so people are always coming and going. I’ve lived in the same house my entire life, but…it’s not the same. I didn’t have the stability you seem to possess.”
Harriet snorted. “Who said anything about stability? We’re all dicked in the knob ’round here!” With a bright guffaw, she nudged Clara’s arm. “City life can’t be so bad, right? I imagine it must be mighty exciting.”
Clara snorted. “Yes, of course…if you enjoy being paraded about in society, always expected to put on a show for every fool desiring your dowry.”
Harriet looked her over with interest. “Society, eh? Are we talking high society? What on earth are you doing out here with the likes of—?”
“All girls enter society,” Clara quickly reminded her. “I wasn’t suggesting I am rich; I merely don’t like being put on display. And in the city, it’s difficult to find a moment’s rest. Out here, however…” She shrugged. “I imagine it’s quite easy to hide.”
Harriet squinted at the odd phrasing. “Yes, I reckon so. We’ve some peculiar folks out in these parts, but no one’s hiding from anything. Not to my knowledge, of course. And I make it my business to know.” She hummed. “What made you think of that, anyway?”
The unspoken are you hiding from something?
lingered between them, and flustered, Clara said, “Oh, no reason. I’ve been reading a lot of literature lately, all featuring heroines hiding dark, tragic pasts.
It’s merely colored my thoughts, I suppose.
” She forced a laugh. “I really must learn to amend myself!”
Harriet grinned. “Sounds thrilling! Though it’s mighty sad whenever we have to read about other people, especially fictional people, to get some excitement.
” She winked. “Fortunately, that’s never the case with me.
I wouldn’t say I’m a busybody, but I get involved in the community.
That’s why I’ve called in a physician for the Hoskinses.
He should be arriving soon, so I hope they’ll be pleased! ”
Clara frowned. “A physician? What is his specialty?”
“Not invalids, if that’s what you’re asking, but he knows how to cure the mind. After I gave birth to a stillborn many years ago—many, many years ago, so there’s no need to look at me like that, dear—Dr. Wagner’s father, Dr. Wagner, Sr., took away my hysteria and kept it away.”
“With what?”
“Tinctures, mostly. I’m not sure what’ll work for Benjamin, but I’ve the utmost faith in Dr. Wagner. Despite neither hailing from Freyview, both’ve proved competent.”
Clara looked away. “Yes, well…it seems we all could use a bit of faith these days.”
Ignoring Harriet’s questioning look, she quickened her pace.
When Clara returned with Harriet, Benjamin was far from receptive toward having guests. He sat by the fire, resigned and scowling while the women and his father chatted about a Mrs. Whose-Its being most uncouth at market.
Benjamin hated gossip. He always had, and now that it was likely himself at the forefront of these wagging tongues, his temper kept waxing and waning with each ill-intentioned word. And Clara…why had she stayed? Surely, it was a decision borne of pride; surely, it was only to torment him.
Every now and then, he caught his father’s gaze. It was evident Josiah wished for him to apologize, but Benjamin was nothing if not consistently stubborn. If Clara desired an apology, she could ask for one herself. He would never apologize for speaking his mind. Daniel certainly hadn’t.
“When Benjamin was about this tall,” Harriet declared, dragging him from his self-pitying thoughts, “he was the naughtiest little boy on this side of the Sound!”
Clara laughed, wrinkling her nose. “Captain Hoskin? Naughty? What did he do, steal from the rich and give to the poor?”
“Why, no!” Harriet exclaimed, bemused. “Back then, he was a bit of a brat—begging your pardon, Josiah—and I caught him stomping through my vegetable garden with his friends on more than one occasion. But that’s beside the point…”