A Song of Love

              Sing O sing a song of love,
         The angels softly sing above,
         Close your eyes and go to sleep,
         The flowers laugh, the willows weep,
         The summer sun fades to moon,
         The breaking dawn will wake you soon.

         Mary sang gently to her young daughter beside her in the bed. Sarah closed her eyes and feigned sleep. She wanted her mothers soothing voice as long as possible.                    
              This was her favorite time of day. The adventures of the day were done. Yes, the trees still shaded the rippling stream in the forest behind her house, the birds were still there, although in their nests for the night. The days flowers were closed, but they would be there in the morning. The path through the woods was still there, although the ground did not sparkle with the glorious sunlight dancing through the leaves. The butterflies had gone to the secret place that only butterflies know. When at last the sun had fallen behind the trees and disappeared, Sarah had dashed along the path to her mothers waiting arms. She hurriedly ate dinner so that she could slip in to bed and await her mother’s quiet footsteps. Her mother would climb into the trundle bed next to her and nuzzle her cheek.
         “What did you find today Sarah?” she would ask. Sarah would excitedly recall the day’s events. She found a box turtle in a little pile of leaves. She got so close to a rabbit, that she almost felt it! But, it of course used rabbit magic to leap away just a split second before she could touch it. She swam in the creek with the Beverly twins. Annie Beverly caught a crawdad, but it pinched her. She cried until Laura Beverly found some blackberry bushes.
         “Oh Mother, the blackberries were so good! None of us had a pail today, and Laura said that we oughtn’t try to bring them home in our skirts, because they would spoil before we could get them home. But tomorrow, I’ll bring a pail to get some, and then you can make a pie! You should have seen Annie, she had berry juice all over, even on her legs! Her mother will be angry with her, because she stained her dress with berry juice. Laura and I kept clean. I knew that you would be happy with me Mother.”
         “I am happy, Sarah. You make me happy, always. I will always love you.” whispered Mary. Sarah beamed. She thrived on her mothers loving words. She did everything that she could to make her mother happy.
         “Well today, Sarah, I woke up, and I thought of you, and then I made you breakfast. Then, I crept in here and woke you. When we had finished the chores and you were playing in the woods, I thought of you again. I thought of you all day, and when you FINALLY came home, I was so happy! And now here we are. This is my favorite part of the day. I wouldn’t trade my time with you for a million dollars, or a hundred million dollars, or even a billion dollars. I love you.”
         And then she sang. Her smooth quiet voice lulled Sarah gently to sleep. The lullaby was simple and pure. Mary began the lullaby when her daughter was born. She would sing it over and over when Sarah was an infant. Unlike most babies, Sarah slept straight through the night; as long as her mother sang to her.
         Now, almost six years later, Mary sang the same song. When she was sure that Sarah was asleep, she slowly stood up. She leaned in the doorway and stared at the angelic face of her daughter. Her Sarah. Her only child. Her first and last.
         Five and a half years ago on a chilly November night, Sarah came into the world. She was a tiny baby, and few believed that she would survive. Her father surveyed his miracle with wondering eyes. Here, tiny in his palms, was a brand new life. It was his to protect, and care for. His to comfort when crying, and to rejoice with when happy.
         After Sarah was born, her mother didn’t stop bleeding. The doctor and midwife talked quietly in the dark corners of the room. The situation was grim for both the mother and child. The father, gripped by the fear that he would lose both his beloved wife and his newborn child, sat by the mother’s bedside and held her hand. She cried out, asking for her child, and begging the doctor to give the baby to her. The doctor was wise, and realizing that the mother and child would most likely die, he placed the small babe in her arms.
         For a moment, all pain was forgotten. As Mary gazed at the crying infant in her arms, she knew that she could not give up. She would have to fight so that she could be a mother to this little one.
         “Sarah.” she whispered with ragged breaths. “Sarah Grace Bentley. She has your face, David.” she managed between gasps.
         Something inside her was broken. Never again would she bring life into the world. The bleeding gradually slowed. Mary would live. She would be weak for awhile, but she would live.
         The same could be said for Sarah. She had a strong will, and, it seemed, even stronger lungs. She cried so loud, that the doctor thought that she might  be in pain. But little Sarah Grace was announcing to the world that she was here to stay.
         Now here six years later, Mary realized how lucky she was. If it weren’t for Sarah…..what would she do? Looking after her daughter was the one thing left in this world that brought the woman joy. When Sarah was three, David was killed in a drunken brawl in one of the town taverns. From the moment when the sheriff interrupted her baking to tell her that her husband was killed, Mary Bentley developed a burning and cold hate for the alcohol that had caused his death. Not a drop of whiskey, not a cup of ale was ever found in her house.
         She tried to explain the passionate hatred for the drink to Sarah, as she smoothed down the wild hair and wrinkled apron that had been caused by a violent outburst at David’s Uncle Baard. The man had tried to bring in a bottle of whiskey with him to the Christmas celebration at Mary’s house to help him get through the first difficult Holiday without his nephew, who had been like a son to him. He never really understood the feeling of hate that possessed Mary after the incident. It was after all, from Baard’s point of view, not the drink that killed his nephew. It was the man who had become angry over a game of cards. It was fist against fist until the drunk man, now red in the face and sputtering his slurred words, pulled a pistol out of the holster on his waist. It only took one shot.
         Baard, not a heavy drinker himself, but not hard to accept a cup every now and then, could not understand the hatred. The reason that the feeling had become so strong, was because Mary was filled with grief that she could not express in any other way. She was too Christian a woman to hate the man, all her life she had been taught to forgive. Her good and gentle heart caused her to forgive him all that he had done, to forget everything that he had so quickly taken from her. So instead she hated the poison that had possessed him on that fateful night.
         She had chased Baard out of the house, her hair blowing wildly in the cool night wind. This usually meek and quiet maid had been transformed into a mad woman, screaming every threat from torture to death at the innocent bottle of whiskey. The lid had never been lifted, it had never burned a mans throat and  caused him to sin in any way of the world, but she hated it all the more, for the damage she knew it had the ability to cause.
         As she straightened herself and regained her composure, she glanced at the face of her daughter, eyes wide and mouth in a perfect ‘O’. The girl, who had lived her whole life without ever once hearing her beautiful mother so much as raise her voice to her daughter, had just witnessed a new and frightening person. Could she now hide under the skirts of such a woman? Was there any sanctuary in the world? She fought the urge to go hide, instead doing the only thing that had ever provided her protection from anything that scared her: she ran sobbing to her mother’s arms.
         Mary comforted her. She did the very best she could to explain what had just occurred. She told her four year old all of the events leading up to this display of emotion, from the tragic death of her father resulting in the strong feeling of disdain for alcohol of any kind. She used vocabulary easy for a young child to understand, in the way that only mothers can. She wanted her daughter to understand the person that she could become when faced with the thing that killed her true love, that had ripped him out of her arms just when she thought their love could not grow any stronger.          
         And Sarah did understand. She listened with the rapt interest that every child possesses, eager to know what she did not. By the time Mary had finished explaining, Sarah was feeling emotions that four year olds rarely have to deal with. She was feeling enlightened, for she had always wondered where the laughing man that she barely remembered had gone. She felt somehow cheated, of what, she did not know. She had never experienced a fathers love, not that she could remember. She did not know how it would feel to grow up with someone always there who was stronger than her in every way. Who would be there when she needed to learn a tough lesson that her mother could not teach. She would have a man walk her down the aisle, but not her father. All of these things would never be for her, and even as a four year old, sitting on her mothers lap learning of her past, she was dimly aware that she had lost something precious. That she had been cheated out of something that would have meant a lot to her later in life, or even now if he was here. From that moment was born in her a deep hatred for the thing that had taken away something that was so important, and that she would never fully comprehend. It was not a burning, passionate hate like that of her mother. She was only vaguely aware of it. She would not discover how much it affected her until later on.
         But for that moment, at least she understood why her gentle mother had flown into such a rage, and for her small heart, that was enough.
         Family members at the home for the Christmas celebration watched quietly as Baard crept through the blanket of snow and to the barn to hide his whiskey. And they were equally quiet as he came meekly through the door and sat on a stool near the fire, deep in thought.
         The holiday was celebrated without so much as a word of the incident. Something, was changed that year though. Not a soul ever brought drink to Mary’s house again.
         Mary recalled these events as she watched her daughter sleeping peacefully, the moonlight shining through the window and on to the sleeping child’s face. She could not but help herself, as she walked across the room to give her a kiss.
         As she left the room, she was troubled. She had waited all day to lose herself in Sarah’s magical world of childhood play, because for those few minutes, her adult troubles faded. She could forget the fact that she was on the brink of losing her farm, the only thing of David’s that she had left, that the bank would most likely get it soon, that she was working six days a week at the inn restaurant in town to keep that from happening. She could forget that her short supply of laying chickens had been attacked by an unknown animal, and she was down to seven dried out old hens. Beddie was going dry, her milk was getting more sour each day. Not to mention that she wouldn’t be able to patch her dresses any longer, she would have to have a new one.
         But as Sarah described in detail each new flower, how the sunlight danced on the creek, and how the butterflies flitted across the trees, she could forget all that.
         She now slumped into her worn rocker near the dying fire. Now that her child was asleep, it was not time to think of more serious matters. The innkeeper had remarked how there were younger and better dressed towns ladies that could easily replace her, unless she stepped up. The new dress was a prominent matter. Her tired eyes sparkled at the thought of a whole new dress to herself. She was sadly reminded of times when David wrapped his arms around her and promised her all the riches in the world. She needed nothing else, so long as she had his eyes to gaze into. She could lose herself in them. They lost themselves in each other on warm summer days, the brook rippling and the fireflies starting to dance across the sky. The crickets were a perfect background as he proclaimed his love to her. He would tell her how beautiful she was, and how he needed nothing else as long as she would promise to love him always. He said that he felt as rich as a king when she kissed him.
         The tears welled up in her eyes as her heart ached to hear him say that he loved her, and she knew that it would never be. And her whole being ached from running up and down flights of stairs six days a week. Carrying food to waiting customers was not how she had pictured her life. She always thought that she would grow old with the one she loved, and that he would always be there to provide for her. But seeing as she was on her own now, it was what she had to do. Although this was not a rich community, the people did their best to help her out. In the beginning, her neighbors pooled their money together to provide a meager fund. The store gave her a little credit, but even this was not enough.
         Now almost three years later, she was in a worse position. The people had no more to give, nor would they have if they had had enough. They all thought that she should marry again. They turned their heads to her pitiful state when she refused Jed Hollows proposal. To them, she was too prideful. If only they would have taken the time, they would have realized that she was still hurt inside, and she would never love someone the way she had loved David Bentley. Her heart refused to let anyone else in, and though she was a meek and obedient woman, she would not marry someone whom she didn’t love or who didn’t love her.
         Now sitting here in her worn rocking chair, she went over Jed’s proposition again.
         “Now listen here girl,” he had said kindly, for he was a kind man. “I know the state you’re in. Now as you know, mah wife up and left me six years ago. She was a sour old lady, couldn’t have children and was determined to make mah life miserable because of it, like it was mah fault or something. Well, I don’t got no one now. It gets darn lonely on that old farm, with only the animals to keep a man company. As you know, I’m mighty fond of your little one, and you missy are darn easy on a man’s eyes. Now what I’m suggesting, is that when the Bible man makes his round over to this part of the country, we have him marry us, it’ll just be formal, ‘nless you want a real ceremony, that’s fine too. But I think it’s a right fine thing, seein as we’re both on our own, don’t ya think? I wouldn’t mind a bit movin over here to this place, it’s a right fine piece of property. What do you say?”
         Mary kindly told him that she would think it over and tell him what she thought the next day.
         And she did think it over. She could see the practical side of it. Jed Hollows was a respectable man, he didn’t drink, “thank God” she said to herself as she was deciding, for if he was a drinker, she would not have even considered. It was true that he was fond of Sarah, he always bought her a penny candy when the three happened to meet at the store. He was pleasant, he was never loud or angry, he went to church on Sunday. She knew that she could have a happy life with him, she could possible even find feelings for him. But it was just too soon, it was only a few months after the death of her husband, and she couldn’t bear the thought of waking up next to a man that wasn’t him. Perhaps, she thought now, if he were to ask me now I would accept. But then it had just been too much too soon.
         “I greatly appreciate your offer, Jed, but I think I’ll do just fine on my own. Sarah and I will do just fine.”
         And that was the end of it. There was gossip in the little town. Little old ladies with nothing better to do than to inspect and judge others’ lives because theirs was so dull, spread ugly rumors about why poor little Mary Bentley would have rejected such an offer. None of them could guess the truth, and if they did, they were too interested in their  gossiping  ways to say it out loud.
         The rocking chair that David had made with his own hands brought comfort to the woman that warm summer night. She remembered the day he finished it, he was kneeling down and sweeping the sawdust away, when she walked into the barn. Then seven months pregnant, she carried a pail of water with a dipper, because she knew that the hot September day would be getting to him soon. She gasped  when she came upon the beautiful rocker, the smooth saplings bending into a curved shape at the bottom, rocked the sturdy body of the chair. She watched David run his hands up and down the legs, before he turned to the barn door and saw her.
         He laughed at the embarrassment on her face. “I….didn’t…well…” she stuttered. He smiled, standing up he said, “Well I haven’t put the pillow on it yet, it was meant to be a surprise, but I guess now is as good a time as ever.”
         She smiled sweetly as he took the pail of water out of her hands, and then led her over to the chair. She sat down, tears brimming in her eyes.
         “David, it’s the most beautiful thing on earth, thank you. I love you.” she whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping that he didn’t think she was sad or disappointed.
         “There you’re wrong my love,” said David softly, “You are the most beautiful thing on earth, and sitting there, in that chair, of fine quality if I do say so, you are as pretty as a rose. Now if you wait one minute…I’ll be right back.” and with that he disappeared out the door of the barn.
         She took that moment to wipe away more tears, and thank God for blessing her with such a wonderful husband. A girlish smile spread across her face when she thought of telling her sister Elle what her wonderful David had done for her. Surely Hank had never made Elle anything quite so lovely. The look on Elle’s face….
         Suddenly she was jerked back to reality by a tiny movement in her belly, just as David came back into the barn, holding a small cushion, obviously custom made for the rocking chair. 
         “Oh, Oh! Right here, David, put you’re hand right here!” she said excitedly. He ran quickly to her, knelt down, and let her guide his hand to where the babe inside her was making its presence known.
         His eyes became round with wonder, his eyebrows raised, and his lips parted slightly. It was and expression she would see many times after he was gone, played on the face of their daughter.
         “That’s the baby!” Mary whispered excitedly, she was afraid to talk loudly, as if not to ruin the moment.
         “Well,” said David, now grinning broadly, “I suppose our little one likes the chair.”
         “And with good reason!” laughed Mary, “It is wonderful, thank you.” she said, love shining in her eyes.
         “If you will stand up one moment….there. Your wonderful Elle made this just for the chair. The finest feather cushion for the finest girl in the country.”
         Mary stood up gracefully, and leaned on David’s arm as he placed the cushion on the seat of the chair. She sat down again, and sighed, contentedly.
         “I love you.” she said simply. She smiled and was swept into his eyes as he echoed the three little words.
         
         

                                       ~Chapter 2~



         Her beautiful thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the front door. She jumped up quickly and glanced at the gun on the pegs above the door. It was almost nine o clock, who would be calling on her this late?
         She quickly lit the lamp on the table, and opened the door a crack.
         She was met by the handsome face of a man about twenty five years old. He was wearing  a rain coat, and she then realized that the warm summer night had brought on a thunderstorm. The clouds over head indicated that rain was soon coming.
         The tall man stood on her front porch in muddy boots, she looked up, for he towered over her. He smiled politely, and said in a deep, calming voice,
         “Evening ma’am. My name’s Aaron Thompson. I been lookin’ for work, thought I’d find some in town. I‘m comin in from the East. But as you can see, it’s fixin’ to pour. Was wonderin if it’d be alright if I stayed in your barn for the night. It’s the only place around that I’ve seen.”
         Mary was taken by surprise, and it must have shown on her face, she realized, because the next thing he said was,
         “Might I speak to your husband ma’am.”
         “Oh… well…I’m alone. Um, I have no problem with you bedding in the barn. There’s no reason for you to be caught in the rain.” She smiled nervously. She reprimanded herself mentally for saying that she was alone. Some folk weren’t trustworthy.
         “And come by the house in the morning, I’ll give you some breakfast. A man can’t go walkin’ across the country with no food in his belly.”
         A smile broke across Aaron’s face.
         “I thank you much Mrs…”
         “Bentley. Mary Bentley.”
         “Thank you very much Mrs. Bentley. I suppose I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” he tipped his hat appreciatively, and began walking to the barn.

                                                           ~


         Aaron Thompson threw himself down on the hay in the barn, and let his mind go back to Mary Bentley.
         The last thing he expected to see as he knocked on the door of the farmhouse was such a pretty face. He had been taken aback by the fact that a woman had answered the door so late, much more expecting a man. When she had told him that she was alone, he had wondered. What was a girl like that doing alone? Where was her husband? Or even her Pa. Of course, he was in no position to ask nosy questions. He shouldn’t even have been thinking of them.
         Even in the darkness, he had been able to tell that she was a beautiful woman. He could see the delicate features of her face, and she had a voice that reminded him of birds singing. He had found himself unable to keep back a smile when she offered him breakfast.
         As he lay in the dark barn, he chided himself for continuing to linger on the woman. There was no doubt that she was married. And there was no reason to be thinking of her while he was sleeping in her barn. It was pretty near being sinful. And, he thought, I have a long day tomorrow. I need to be getting some sleep.
         So he turned his thoughts to the day ahead of him, and quickly faded to sleep.

                                                           ~


         Mary Bentley had an uneasy feeling as she lay down to sleep that night. Her mind kept straying to the man sleeping in her barn.
         He had been handsome, even in the dark she could tell that. He was tall and well built. He had towered over her small frame and she could see that he was strong.
         The uneasy feeling came from the fact that she never noticed these things about a man, not since her David had died. Why this man had so quickly brought new feelings upon her, she didn’t know. She had barely seen his face, for goodness sakes.
         I must be more lonely than I realized, she thought to herself. She sighed heavily, and then fell into a troubled sleep.

                                                 ~


         Mary was up bright and early, ready to begin her day. Today was Saturday, only one more day left of working at the inn, and she had a day of resting. The woman was always cheered on Saturdays.
         As soon as she rose, she remembered her late night visitor. Well, she thought, better be getting breakfast on soon.
         She dressed in her everyday work dress, noting to herself to look at the store later on for some fabric for her new garment. She brushed her long chestnut hair and pulled it back out of her face. She quickly swept it up into a bun on her head. Then Mary studied herself in the mirror.
         Her deep green eyes looked tired, most likely from her lack of sleep the night before. Her complexion had always been light, and so she usually looked pale when she first woke up. She pinched her cheeks to get some color into her face, and applied a beeswax balm to her full lips. She turned her head to glance at her hair, and satisfied with her appearance, she rose from her dressing table and began her day.
         The first thing she needed to do was gather the eggs before the hens pecked them open. She picked up her gathering basket from outside the door and walked out into the sunlight.