Free Abiding Peace by Susan Page Davis Page A

to go there.” Sarah wiped her hands on her apron and sat down on a bench. From her basket, she took a hank of soft lavender woolen yarn.
    “Oh, how lovely,” Christine said.
    “How did you ever get it that color?” Jane came around the table to peer at it more closely.
    “Mother Dudley did it. She’s a clever one. Boiled it with the paper that came wrapped around a sugar cone. Isn’t it the prettiest color? I thought to knit a wrap for Hannah to wear when the cooler weather sets in.”
    “She’ll look darling in it.” Jane set her bread pans on a shelf. “Come, Christine, let’s lay out that cotton and cut it. We’ve time before dinner.”
    As they walked home later, Ben carried his littlest sister, Ruth, on his shoulders, and Constance held tight to Christine’s hand. Abby walked alongside, carrying her diminutive basket with her rag doll and sampler tucked inside.
    Christine let her thoughts wander to the late afternoon conversation she and Jane had held, after Sarah left them.
    “How do you know you can trust a man?” It was the closest she dared come to asking Jane’s opinion about the outlaw. But Jane had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
    “Who is he?” Her face had lit with excitement. “Christine, don’t tell me that at last you’re in love!”
    “No! Not that. I was only asking. You know I’ve never lived around men much.”
    “Until the reverend.”
    “Well … yes, but I wasn’t thinking of him. Truly.”
    “Ah.” Jane turned sober then, bouncing the baby on her lap. “Well then, I suppose you must spend time with him and talk to him, until you feel you know him quite well.”
    Christine wanted to protest. Spending time with the shadowy thief was the last thing she would do. But looking across the room at the three little girls playing so placidly with Hannah, she knew she couldn’t reveal the truth. No palisade surrounded the parsonage in Cochecho. Samuel Jewett had bought a musket only when he felt it absolutely necessary because of the frequent Indian raids. If the outlaw struck at his children, he would be hard pressed to protect them. Let Jane think what she may, Christine must keep her secret.
    And so she left embarrassed and confused. Jane had automatically assumed that her affections were set on the minister. Given the circumstances, the entire village probably thought as much. But Samuel … Christine shifted the heavy basket on her arm. What
were
her feelings for Samuel?

    Two nights later, by sitting up and sewing by candlelight, Christine finished making the new work trousers for the pastor. She put the last stitch in the hem late. As she stood and folded them, every muscle ached. Somehow she had to rid herself of this anxiety.
    Her prayers seemed to have become vain repetitions—
Father, show me what to do. Lord, keep the children safe
. Mindlessly, she went about her daily work to make them comfortable. And every night she took their potential assailant sustenance so he could come back again tomorrow and threaten them again.
    Something thunked against the side of the house, just below the window. She blew out the candle and stood in the dark, her heart racing.
    Plink
.
    It sounded like a pebble had hit the boards outside. He had returned. He expected her to bring him food, and she hadn’t gone out yet tonight. If she didn’t go, he would keep up the racket, possibly awakening Tabitha.
    With shaking hands, she carried the candle to the fireplace and relit it from the dying embers. She hastened to gather a scanty meal for him. There wasn’t much, but she had deliberately put aside a small portion of dried fish, not admitting to herself at the time that it was for the lurker. And she had left half of her Indian pudding uneaten to sneak it into a covered dish when Tabitha looked the other way.
    Another pebble hit the side of the house as she lifted the latch. Carefully balancing the earthenware dish, she slipped outside and closed the door behind her.
    “Thought you’d