Free Rebellious Heart by Jody Hedlund Page A

could.”
    Fresh determination surged into Ben’s blood. He knew he couldn’t rest. He had to continue to work with all the industry and ambition he’d always employed.
    And of course the right match with the right woman wouldn’t hurt either.

     
    “I’m very pleased with your progress learning your letters, Anna,” Susanna said to the last of the young girls who remained in the big kitchen. In the dismal gray afternoon, the light from the hearth and several large candles added a homey glow to the back room of the parsonage.
    “Thank you, Miss Smith.” Anna wrapped her worn cloak about her shoulders, but her eyes were riveted to the oak hornbook with the faded sheet of yellowish horn covering a printed page of letters, syllables, and the Lord’s Prayer.
    “Would you like to take the hornbook home with you?” Susanna closed her copy of the New England Primer , which she preferred versus the old hornbook that had once belonged to Grandmother Eve.
    Anna nodded eagerly. “Oh, would you let me?”
    “Of course.” Susanna fanned her overheated face with her apron. The warmth from the enormous stone fireplace permeated the kitchen, along with all the tantalizing scents of Phoebe’s preparations for the evening repast—corn chowder and roasted duck.
    “I promise I’ll be careful. And I’ll keep it dry.” Anna tucked the hornbook into her cloak to protect it from the cold drizzle that had started falling during school time.
    “I have every confidence in you,” Susanna said, wishing each of her girls was as eager to learn as Anna Morris.
    She glanced at the open door to the other girls already well on their way down the winding road. At least they came to her lessons when they could. “Hurry now and catch up with the rest.” Susanna ushered the girl toward the door.
    “I want you girls to make sure you stay together.” Even though nothing had happened over the past week since Hermit Crab Joe’s trial, she couldn’t shake her fear that it was only a matter of time before someone else was hurt. “Please be careful.”
    “Yes, Miss Smith.” Anna pulled up the hood of her cloak and started outside.
    Susanna put a hand on her arm. “Wait.” She grabbed an apple tart from the long plank worktable and held out the delicacy to Anna. “Take this too.”
    “Thank you.” Anna’s face was etched with a hunger that was all too common among the children of the poor widows of the parish.
    Even though Susanna made certain the girls had something to eat—usually bread, cheese, and apples—when they came to her dame school, she knew they were always battling hunger. Their mothers couldn’t earn enough to provide for all their needs, even with the spinning and weaving work Mother provided.
    “Go on now.” Susanna nodded toward the other girls.
    Anna tucked her hands into the folds of her cloak, hiding the tart, and then she skipped off into the cold autumn afternoon.
    Susanna leaned against the open doorframe, letting the cool mist brush her hot cheeks. She derived great pleasure from imparting knowledge to the impressionable young mindsand only wished she didn’t feel so inadequate as their teacher. After all the time she poured into helping the girls, she’d hoped to see more progress by now.
    Yet regrettably she expected most of them came because she fed them and because they could socialize away from the unending work they faced at home.
    Deep inside she’d wanted to prove that the poor young girls of the community could learn just as well as the boys, that girls were worthy of an education too, that the naysayers were wrong.
    But what if they were correct after all? What if men’s minds really were stronger? It was altogether too grievous to embrace the possibility that women weren’t meant to give themselves over to reading and writing, that they truly were more useful focusing their attention on household affairs.
    With a sigh Susanna closed the door and then leaned against it. “I don’t know,