Chapter 21 Trials of the Heart
Chapter Twenty-One
Trials of the Heart
Why did he destroy everything he touched?
Was it because he, himself, was broken? Benjamin hadn’t meant to hurt her; he hadn’t meant to wound Clara, yet the moment she’d drawn away from him, he’d seen all the anguish in the world welling within her bright eyes.
He’d recognized it and empathized with it, because he, too, saw that very same pain in his own gaze each time he peered into a looking glass.
Was it wrong of him to kiss her? Yes, it was, because Benjamin could no longer do for Clara what men like John Wagner could.
He couldn’t take her dancing, nor go arm in arm for a stroll, nor sneak off at night for a lover’s assignation.
The thought nearly wounded him more than the injury itself.
All he could offer was his intellect, his heart, and Benjamin knew Clara would never be content with limitations.
Embittered, he remained in bed bearing the sting of yesterday’s cut—the wound she’d tended to—while drinking today’s laudanum. The taste was as bitter as his mood, and Benjamin devoured the tincture in three eager swallows.
That was when the door opened. Nearly choking into the wooden cup, he set it aside with a graceless fumble.
Clara entered with a tray of food in hand, her eyes downcast while her mouth remained pinched and sour.
Her entire demeanor screamed of disagreement, so Benjamin chose not to speak.
He’d already done more than enough damage.
“Good morning,” Clara muttered. “Your father and I made buttered eggs.”
Benjamin flashed a doubting smile. “You made buttered eggs?”
“All right, so I only grated the nutmeg,” she replied, still unsmiling. “You would’ve known I helped with yesterday’s batch too, had you not been so cross with me.”
Benjamin winced. “I know I deserve that…and I’m sorry.”
Wordless, Clara came over and set the tray into his lap. “I trust you don’t need anything else?”
He hesitated, torn, before suggesting, “Just your forgiveness.”
“For what?” Her gaze grew sharp and piercing.
“For everything…but for last night, in particular.”
Her mouth twisted. “Ah. So you are sorry for kissing me?”
“What? No!” Benjamin earnestly shook his head. “No, no, never that, but…I am sorry I hurt you.” Expression doleful, he explained, “In case it isn’t obvious, I am rather terrible at expressing how I feel.”
Clara’s gaze remained frigid, but there was a slight softening around her mouth.
“I’m going for a walk with your father,” she deflected.
“If something comes up between now and the time we return, it will have to wait.” Glancing toward the whiskey bottle on his nightstand, she coolly added, “Then again, you might not remember what you need.”
Benjamin flushed. “That’s part of my tincture regimen.”
“Yes, well, Mother’s physician prescribes much the same.” Clara shrugged. “Sometimes, I daresay she doesn’t remember she even has a family, let alone obligations beyond her drunken stupors.” Turning on her heel, she muttered, “Good day to you, Captain.”
Benjamin tried to reply, to stop her and further explain himself, but she’d already stepped into the hallway and shut the door.
The rolling hills overlooking placid, endless blue instilled in Clara a peace she’d never before experienced.
Though she also lived by the water, there wasn’t the same urgency here in Freyview.
She could pretend this was her life. She could pretend she was free.
And while strolling alongside Josiah Hoskin, she almost believed it.
“What do you think?” Josiah asked, nudging her to attention.
Clara shaded her eyes beneath her hand and smiled, stepping along the grassy knoll overlooking the gleaming sea.
“I adore it,” she told him. “I think you’re lucky to have such a closeknit community.
Where I am from, we had friends growing up, but we live primarily in seclusion.
So many have moved in and out of the city that it never felt safe to grow attached. ”
“Attachments are hard,” Josiah agreed, “especially with houses divided over war. Sometimes, it seems human connection isn’t worth it, that we’re better off alone and safeguarding our hearts. But God didn’t create us to be solitary beings. We all find one another for a reason.”
Clara blinked at him, amazed. “You really think so? You believe I was intentionally brought into your world?”
“Of course! You may not feel your worth, but I promise your influence has been felt, and most especially by my son.”
All at once, Clara stiffened. “Yes, I agree. I’ve pushed him toward an increasingly foul temperament.”
“Nonsense!” Josiah cried. “He is certainly disagreeable. Many men in his position would be. But I know my son, and had you not intervened, he would be far, far worse. He doesn’t like to appear weak, so having an audience adds to his stubbornness.”
Clara looked away, electing to ignore the dull, cutting ache across her heart. “What was he like before the war?” she asked. Embarrassed, she quickly amended, “If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”
“Why would I? We men of the cloth are supposed to be open books, so you can ask me absolutely anything…within reason.” Josiah chuckled.
“Benjamin before the war, though…” He hesitated, his eyes instantly losing their pleasant twinkle.
“It was a simpler time. He was quiet, but mischievous, introspective and eager for knowledge. One afternoon, he caused an uproar by taking several books up to his favorite reading spot. He completely lost track of time, not realizing that his friend’s father had reported them stolen. ”
Masking her smile, Clara said, “I am not surprised. Although Benjamin acts ignorant about certain topics, he is very keen to learn.” All at once, memories of his hands on her waist and his mouth on hers, clumsy and eager while she gave clear, equally enthusiastic instruction, caused her cheeks to flood pink, and an intense, unmistakable heat to flare up beneath her fichu.
Unaware of her yearning, Josiah continued, “Benjamin loves just about any book! Nature, too. Even when he was older, I’d catch him tending to the garden out back, simply because roses were his mother’s favorite.”
Clara sobered at that, her blush fading. “You have a garden?”
“Only the best in Freyview! I wouldn’t expect you to have noticed, given how it’s a bit off to the side,” Josiah replied.
“The garden’s my domain, admittedly, but whenever he can, Benjamin insists upon caring for the roses.
” He spared Clara a sad smile. “Don’t tell him I told you, but I believe he tends them to keep his mother alive…
as if she is still here. I’ve overheard him talking to her many a time.
” Chin quivering, he confessed, “I talk to her sometimes myself. I’ve God to guide my path, but things would be far simpler, were she here by my side.
Lorraine would know how to help our Benjamin. ”
“I’m so sorry,” Clara murmured. “If it eases your mind at all, I think you are a wonderful father. My parents…w-well…” She winced, feeling selfish. “Sometimes, it’s as if they might as well be dead. They don’t care about me. Not really.”
When Josiah grunted in disbelief, Clara agreed, “I’d like to think my parents love me, but you know what they say: Actions speak louder than words.”
“Indeed, they do,” Josiah allowed, “but whether or not your parents love you is irrelevant. God loves you. We love you. And our home will always be yours for as long as you need.” He touched her shoulder. “I pray it isn’t selfish to hope it’ll be for a long, long time.”
Clara’s eyes welled up and she drew a breath, overcome by his devotion. This wasn’t right… As much as it pained her, he deserved to know the truth.
“Josiah…” With a shaking swallow, she tried again, “There is something you should know…”
“Traitors!”
Whirling about, Clara gasped as three men descended upon the scene. In a rush, Josiah cut in front of her, protectively drawing her behind.
“What seems to be the trouble here, gentlemen?” he asked. Despite the fierce look to these reprobates, his tone remained unshaken.
The ringleader, a farmer named Randolph Fritz, fiercely spat at their feet. “Nothin’ at’tall, Reverend. Just takin’ a walk.”
“As are we,” Josiah replied, “so I’d suggest you be on your way.”
“And why’s that?” he pressed. “In’nit true you’re no longer wieldin’ a musket? Seems a lil’ unwise to threaten us.” Gaze sliding toward Clara, he added, “We just wanna welcome the new rebel to the community.”
Clara paled. “Rebel? But…b-but I am not a patriot!”
A second man spat on the grass. “You’re livin’ with the Hoskinses,” he growled. “You’re no loyalist!”
All at once, two of the men swarmed upon Josiah and rendered him incapacitated, holding his arms while Randolph swung his fist into the older man’s gut. Josiah cried out and doubled over, winded, and the men laughed while Clara screamed at them to stop.
When they ignored her, a fury licked across her heart unlike any other. Josiah wasn’t meant to be treated as a traitor; he had the heart of a rebel, but he was not deserving of punishment!
Blinded by emotion, Clara rushed forward and threw herself onto the back of the nearest man, shrieking while scratching at his neck, face, and shoulders, and whatever stray inch of him she could manage. “Let go of him, you cur!” she snarled. “Let go!”
Unfortunately, Randolph had his arms free and easily wrenched her to the ground. Clara yelped once he trapped her beneath his boot.
“Please!” Josiah cried. “Do whatever you wish to me, but have mercy on the girl!”
Randolph bared his crooked teeth. “What, y’mean the way you rebels had mercy on my wife?”
Josiah closed his eyes, consumed by pity. “Randolph, what happened was an atrocity. An anomaly, I assure you, because most patriots are good people who—”
“Deserve to die, that’s what!” Furious, he seized a hunting knife from his belt. “I’mma do to this rebel doggess what they did to my Molly!”