Free The Gifted by Ann H. Gabhart

and spiritual maturity, but now I wonder. How can we set an age or time when a person is mature enough to look into her past at the truth of her beginnings? If that is what it tells. I do not know, for I did not break the seal of the inner envelope before giving it to the Ministry.
But I do fear—whatever the letter says—that it might only further confound our young sister’s mind. For what purpose? Who knows if whoever penned the letter even still breathes? No other letter has ever come for her. None at all. She seems greatly alone in the world except for the Believers here who embrace her as a beloved sister. A very beloved sister, even if at times she can be our exasperating sister as well.

6

    The morning after Jessamine made her confession and promises to Sister Sophrena, she had resolutely determined to completely shut from her mind any wayward thoughts or sinful desires as she paid mind to her duties in the rose gardens. She concentrated on snipping the rose blooms off the bushes and stripping the petals from the stems to fill her basket.
    The blossoms spread a beautiful fragrant blanket across the field and made this duty a thousand times more pleasing than being stuck in the hot washhouse or in the kitchen peeling mounds of potatoes and onions. Each duty was valuable and to be performed with dedication and care. Sister Sophrena often reminded her of that truth if she noted the slightest look of dismay when she told Jessamine her duties for the week. And no sister was continually assigned to an odious duty. A week was not forever, although there were times it seemed it might be when stuck in the upper room ironing endless piles of shirts and dresses. So in the spring and early summer, Jessamine was thankful many hands were needed in the rose gardens.
    Sister Abigail stepped up beside Jessamine and softly touched one of the roses. “It seems such a pity to not place so much as one rosebud into a vase to brighten our retiring room.”
    Jessamine smiled at the young sister and pretended not to notice the frown Sister Annie leveled toward them from the next row. Sister Annie had doubts that Sister Abigail desired to learn the Shaker ways. Even something as simple as the Shaker way to gather rose petals.
    “She longs for the world and has no eye for the Shaker path,” Sister Annie told Jessamine after their first day in the rose gardens a week ago.
    “You are patient with me, Sister Annie. Why not with Sister Abigail who is so new to our ways?” Jessamine had asked.
    “She does not want my patience. She wants only things of the world and her talk of such is bringing disharmony to our sleeping room.” Sister Annie narrowed her eyes on Jessamine. “To you. Can you deny she has you thinking of the world?”
    “I cannot blame Sister Abigail for that. I ever have curiosity of the world. You know how often I have need to confess that fault to Sister Sophrena.”
    “Yea, but Sister Abigail does not think it a fault. She thinks the ways we show her are what is faulty.”
    There was truth in what Sister Annie said. Jessamine did like hearing Sister Abigail talk of the world. About parasols and other frivolities that Jessamine knew nothing about. But now, Jessamine tried to keep her mind on her Shaker duties as she had promised Sister Sophrena she would do. Part of that duty on this day was guiding Sister Abigail in how to efficiently pluck the rose petals.
    Although little expertise was required and Jessamine had shown the young sister the quickest method to strip the petals time and again, the girl kept dawdling instead of bending to her task. Now she clipped a rose, then lifted the bloom up to sniff it before she began slowly pulling the petals loose two or three at a time to let them drift down in her basket.
    Jessamine smiled at her with no censure. One of Mother Ann’s most oft repeated sayings was to do their work as if they had a thousand years to live, or as if they might die on the morrow. Sister Abigail