A Plain and Sweet Christmas Romance Collection Read online

  Friend Daniel placed his hat on his head. “I hope thee understands that we must release Friend Jones to the elders and to God. And thee must take care to keep separate from this situation.”

  Mary struggled with this pronouncement as she watched Daniel stride toward the door. Of course she wanted to humble herself and agree with the elder. Instead, she returned to the window to see that Silas had just finished his task at the woodpile. Outside, Friend Daniel stopped before him to offer his hand, which Silas shook. They exchanged words that Mary could not hear but wished she could. Then Daniel left in his wagon.

  At dinner that night Mary couldn’t help but watch Silas eat as he sat opposite her. He’d said little at the table, which didn’t matter since the three guests who had arrived made plenty of conversation for them all. But his stark silence weighed heavily on her. What thoughts were roaming about in his mind? Torturous thoughts, no doubt. Thoughts of grave loss and then chastisement for being human when he needed a loving touch and firm guidance. All the things the Friends normally did in times of trouble. But he did not receive such love, only chastisement. No wonder he disliked the brethren and was eager to find a new life elsewhere. A new life in a new place seemed much more appealing, but it would not heal what he’d left behind. The past would continue to haunt him until he made peace with it.

  After the dishes were done, Mary wandered into the library to find Silas reading a book. To her surprise, it was an older work by Friend William Penn. He seemed so engaged; he never even glanced up until she sat down in a nearby chair and cleared her throat.

  “Mary.” In an instant he put down the book.

  “Friend Silas. I’m surprised thee has chosen to read a work by a Quaker.”

  Silas shrugged. “Grandfather once told me how the man suffered injustice and wanted retribution. But he found the strength of God to stay his hand and his spirit.”

  “He suffered like thee.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “And how would thee know what I feel?”

  “Oh, come now, Silas. It wasn’t hard to see that thee was troubled the moment thee came to find rest in our home. How thee scorned the Friends when thee first came here. And then thee talked of trouble in Philadelphia, which was confirmed by Friend Daniel on his visit.”

  Silas blinked, silent for a moment before he straightened. “I don’t understand. How does your Daniel know anything about me or what happened in Philadelphia? Is he so enraptured by the Light that God came and spoke to him in a vision?”

  Mary felt her cheeks warm, and she turned aside to gaze at the lone flame flickering within the lamp on the table. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Yes, you should. You know things. Things about me. Things you obviously don’t understand.”

  “Yes, there are things I do know. How your, I mean, thy grandfather was mistreated in the streets by outsiders and died from his wounds. And yet the Friends would not oblige thee by making retribution but sought forgiveness instead. And when thee found thyself unable to bridle the passion that demanded an eye for an eye, thee was forced out of fellowship.” She watched his fingers tighten around the book he held.

  “So you know now I didn’t leave Philadelphia peaceably. What they did was wrong. My grandfather loved the brethren with all his heart and soul. They punished me and showed mercy to those who murdered him.”

  “Oh dearest Silas.” Mary looked at him and extended her hand. “If thee could only know God’s true heart. His understanding. His compassion for those in His Light and for those who only look in. And His justice.”

  In an instant her words drove him to his feet. “I saw no such compassion or justice. My grandfather is still dead and my name tarnished when I have done nothing to deserve it.”

  “It isn’t tarnished here. You are accepted. In fact, I will show thee. Come to Meeting with me.” She paused. “There is one this Friday.”

  Silas shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Why? Thee is not banished from us. Or from our home. Or from me.”

  Silas sat back down, his gaze never leaving her. Mary realized now the strength found in the words she spoke bordered on a commitment to him in her heart. What was it about Silas Jones that drew her? She wasn’t sure, yet during the past week she had seen the true essence of the man buried beneath the wound. The Light shone quite brightly, even if it was sometimes covered by a basket of disappointment. He was a man who helped in their time of great need. A man of commitment. A man who could love with great depth. And a man whose heart needed only to receive the healing balm of God to make him whole. But Silas must choose whether to embrace God’s love and the care of others, like herself. Or live life in misery.

  She saw then his internal struggle with the way he shifted about, his fingers clenching and unclenching. He stood once more and began to pace, until they heard a shuffle in the nearby hall. George struggled into the library, limping along on the pair of wooden crutches Silas and Father had made for him.

  “George! Why is thee out of bed?” Mary cried, racing to his side.

  His pinched, drawn face revealed his pain, yet he looked at Silas with unmistakable compassion. “I couldn’t help but hear. And Mary is right, Silas. In thy heart thee must know she speaks the truth.”

  Silas looked at him but said nothing. Mary saw his taut face begin to relax, as if George’s opinion meant something to him. Especially now, watching him teeter on a pair of crutches with a fractured leg. How similar to a wounded soul, crippled by the heartrending things that happen in life. But George came forward in determination to walk through his suffering. She wondered if Silas could see it and be encouraged.

  “Mary told me about Meeting this Friday,” Silas began.

  “I hope to go,” George said. “I already missed First Day Meeting. And I hope thee will be able to help me. I need a strong arm to support me. As we all do, I should say.”

  “Of course I will help in any way I can. But I don’t agree to attend the meeting itself, thee understands.”

  Mary couldn’t help but smile, seeing George wink. A clever man, her brother. Thank Thee, O Lord. Thou has made the way for Silas to seek the help he needs. How I pray he will see Thy glorious Light where he might find rest for his soul. She inhaled a nervous breath, and her heart began to flutter furiously. And maybe a path of Light for us both, Lord, if it be Thy will.

  Chapter 7

  Silas didn’t know what guided his footsteps as he helped George from the wagon that carried them all to the white brick meetinghouse. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that George had purposely injured himself so Silas would need to help the man attend Meeting. Of course that wasn’t so, but Silas could see the scripture coming to pass that speaks of all things working together for good.

  After he’d guided George to the steps of the building, where the Friends warmly greeted each other, he decided to find a seat in the rear of the humble building. He didn’t care that Mary was at the front of the gathering with Friend Daniel sitting across the aisle from her. Instead, his heart and soul were on the words shared and the sense of belonging that replaced the abandonment he’d once felt.

  Silas could picture his grandfather then. The man’s sturdy frame and shining blue eyes. His strong faith that refused to surrender even in the midst of persecution and death. A faith that surpassed it all to stand in eternal glory. Silas felt his soul stir. Perhaps he’d disappointed Grandfather. He hadn’t allowed Christ to triumph over his enemies but met the enemy with anger, an enemy that eventually became one of Silas’s own making. Everything Grandfather had taught him would be for naught if Silas allowed his anger to continue.

  At the conclusion of the meeting Silas still sat in his place on the bench, not even hearing his name until he looked up to see Friend Daniel Gray standing above him. “I’m pleased to see thee here, Friend Silas. And what did thee think of Meeting? Has thee seen a change in thy condition?”

  Silas waited, listening. Then his gaze caught Mary’s as she walked
up the center of the meetinghouse, her lips forming a faint smile, her cheeks flushed with excitement—a pure vision of holy beauty in his eyes. “Yes, a change, Friend Daniel. I will let the darkness out.”

  “Praise be.” The man patted him on the shoulder. “I’m very glad to hear this.”

  “Really? I should think with thy heart on a certain young lady, it would be difficult.”

  Friend Daniel flushed and looked around as if expecting someone to be eaves-dropping on their conversation. “It is not proper to…” He paused. “I will allow our gracious Lord to deal with the matters of the heart, Friend Silas. But thee has no fear. I understand that both thee and Mary have affection for each other. Thy name was on her lips today as she announced that thee was coming to Meeting. So be of good cheer.” He smiled.

  Silas sat in amazement as the elder left. His name had been on Mary’s lips? She had been speaking about him to others? And then suddenly she stood before him, the radiant beauty of God’s true Light burning inside her heart and beaming from her soft features. She had physical beauty, to be sure, but spiritual beauty as well. He came to his feet and faced her.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Thee is looking at me strangely.”

  “Nothing is wrong. Everything is good. More than good, I must say. There is peace once again in my heart.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad, Silas.” She threw her arms around him as several Friends gasped and stared. She withdrew, looking sheepishly about as if expecting a rebuke for such an outward display. But smiles were on the faces of the brethren as well as their own as they left the meetinghouse together.

  George waited for them, having already been helped to the wagon by some other Friends. He reclined in the wagon bed on some blankets, observing Silas and Mary with interest as they walked over. “I see it was a prosperous Meeting, Friend Silas. In more than just the Light? Perhaps also in love?”

  “Yes, it was indeed prosperous.” Silas said it with such passion that it drew a gleeful chuckle from Mary. “I only fear, Friend George, that thee had wished this injury upon thyself just to drag a lowly one like me to Meeting.”

  George shook his head. “I’m not that fond of thee! If God had another way, I’d much prefer it, but I trust in His wisdom. And I’m grateful that everything does work together for good, according to the blessed scripture. If the suffering of one can bring healing to others, then it’s good suffering to bear.”

  Silas marveled at his words. How could suffering ever be good? But looking at Mary, so fair and lovely at his side—if his own personal suffering came about just so he could meet her, then it was well for his soul, too. He could find the same measure of peace in it as George had.

  On the ride home they said little, but the unspoken words conveyed much. With no one observing, Silas’s fingers found Mary’s hand beneath the woolen lap robe and gave a squeeze of reassurance, and he prayed a symbol of his affection. To his delight, she returned the favor. So she was thinking of him, too. He also thought about other things. What it would be like to marry a true Friend of the faith. Though he did hope on occasion they could dispense with the Quakers’ formal language. He would love to simply say—“You have the most wonderful smile, my love. And your lips are like clover honey that I would very much like to consume.”

  “Thee hasn’t heard a word spoken,” Mary murmured, poking him playfully in the arm. “What is thee thinking?”

  He saw her scrutinize him. “If I told thee, thee would blush.”

  She blushed anyway. “So did thee hear George’s question? He asked if thee will be leaving anytime soon.”

  Silas glanced at her and then to the wagon bed to consider the young man who had been a help to him in more ways than he could say. “No matter how many times I wanted to leave, God has kept me here. And for very good reasons.”

  “And not because of my injury,” George reminded him.

  “Because He knows our hearts. He knew I wouldn’t leave all of thee in thy time of need.”

  Mary snuggled beside him. “Does thee see his heart, George?”

  “I always knew Silas had a heart full of God’s Light. But he didn’t, and maybe neither did others. Everyone was mistaken.”

  Silas hoped he did have a proper heart, even though he’d made mistakes. If he could be even a fraction of what Grandfather had been to so many in Philadelphia, he would thankfully carry the Jones’ name. He settled on doing all that he could to help here in this place. Any thought of removing himself to go west lay as a forgotten dream while he embraced a hopeful future.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  A few days later, several visitors arrived to share in the Christmas holiday. While the Halls did not celebrate themselves, they prepared to host their guests with a celebration that included a fine meal, prayers, and lighting candles. Mrs. Hall baked her famous molasses cake, which was greatly enjoyed. But one of the visitors at the table, a young man, stared at Silas in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. He tried to place the man, with his medium frame and sandy-colored hair, but could not.

  After the meal, the man motioned to Silas to come join him in the sitting room.

  “What can I do for thee?” Silas asked, taking a seat opposite him.

  The man sighed numerous times, wiping his hands together as his feet thumped the floor. “I–I’m not sure how to say this…,” he began. “But I needed to come here. If it weren’t for that Quaker in Waynesville…”

  Silas stared. “I don’t understand. Have we met?”

  “No, not really. You see, I come from Philadelphia.”

  Silas straightened. His muscles tightened, but he forced himself to relax when he saw Mary standing in the open doorway of the room. He hoped she was praying for him. He feared what was about to happen, and he would need all the strength he could muster to face it. “Oh?” he managed to say.

  “I found out where you were staying from the letter sent by the Quaker in Waynesville to the Quakers in Philadelphia. I—I came as soon as I heard of your whereabouts.”

  Silas wondered if something had happened in his family. To his father. Or his brother, though he had never mentioned them to Mary or anyone else. He felt convicted.

  “I went and talked to your father about what happened.” He paused. “He has forgiven me. He showed me the letter and said I should see you as soon as possible.”

  Silas sensed the heat filling his ears. He wasn’t sure he had the strength for this. “Forgiven thee for what?”

  “For what I did to the old man. I—I didn’t know he was your grandfather. No one did. We—we thought he was just a crazy old man no one cared about. I wasn’t the one that injured him. Th–that was Paul. But I know…” He hesitated. Silas saw him begin to tremble, and he tried his best not to tremble, too. “But I helped hold the old man along with others while Paul beat him. Please, I have nightmares about it. What we did in the street. And…and I know he didn’t live. I am so sorry. I live with the guilt of it every day. I realized from your father how much the man meant to you. How what we had done drove you away. When I learned where you were, I had to come beg for your forgiveness.”

  The news shook Silas to the core. He looked over to where Mary once stood. The spot was vacant, but she was undoubtedly close enough to overhear the confession. And she would look at him with her clear blue eyes, accompanied by her soothing voice. “Oh dearest Silas. Thee must forgive and let it go. Thy grandfather is at peace with God. And so must thee be.”

  Silas heard himself say to the man, “Grandfather is at peace. But I know thee is not. The only way thee can find true peace is through the Prince of Peace, who thee celebrates this Christmas Day. He must dwell in thee to make thee whole.” Silas hesitated. “It’s true I was angry about what happened. I lost someone I dearly loved. I wanted to see thee hurt because I was hurt. But I see now what it has done to me, thee, and others. That true forgiveness is the only path to peace.”

  The young man’s eyes glistened with tears. “I could not go through Christmas
with this in my heart. That’s why I came as quickly as I could. I prayed you would still be here. Rumors were you were headed west to California.”

  “I’ve found my place and purpose here. And thee must find thy place.” Silas saw the man’s face quiver.

  “I don’t know. There is no peace for me on this earth.”

  “Yes, there is. While forgiveness can take time, I trust in my God that He will supply this free gift and supply thy need as well.”

  “That is all I can hope for. Now I can leave.”

  Silas held out his hand. “There is no need. Stay as long as thee wishes.”

  He waved to Mary, who had ducked into the doorway once more. “Please say hello to my new friend here, not of the Society, but a friend in need and of the kind we will not turn away. No matter what hurt has been caused.”

  With those words, Silas found what he had been longing for. Peace at last with Grandfather’s passing. And perhaps even an affirmation the older man would have given had he been alive. “Yes indeed, grandson. Thee has truly seen and felt the Light! Just as our elder William Penn once said: ‘Christ’s cross is Christ’s way to Christ’s crown.’”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  That evening Silas sat in front of the fireplace, looking at the flames dancing before him. Everyone else had already gone to their rooms for the night, but he couldn’t sleep after what happened. He marveled at God’s hand that could take a situation many miles away and arrange for healing to occur even in a remote place in the middle of Ohio, and at an inn of all things.

  He heard a sigh then and saw Mary approach. He stood to his feet, watching the golden firelight cast a holy aura across her face. She came forward without hesitation. “God indeed worked miracles this night,” she said softly, smiling. “With the guest.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Who would have thought?”