Free One Glorious Ambition by Jane Kirkpatrick Page B

see her much at Reverend Channing’s sermons. I hope she’s well?”
    “She grows more feeble, I fear,” Dorothea said. “She finds her Puritan roots to be more … uplifting of late.”
    “And you?”
    “I attend Reverend Channing’s lectures twice a week,” Dorothea said. “He’s … charming and inspiring.”
    “He’s so short,” Anne said.
    “Or we’re quite tall.” They both laughed as they made their way to the back of the lecture hall and onto the street. They were of the same height, and Reverend Channing was barely five feet tall. Once outside, the smell of horse droppings overpowered any jasmine scent from the plants in the large pots beside the doors. A long line of carriages awaited the lecture’s guests.
    “My carriage is at the front,” Anne said. “Would you care to come for tea? We can deliver you to Orange Court later if you’d like?”
    “I’d be honored.”
    “We have quite the gatherings after church on Sundays. Just chatting and playing games. Sometimes we take boats out on the lake. A few scholars. My lovely younger sisters. Perhaps you’ll join us?”
    “I … yes. Perhaps in the future.” Dorothea did not want to get caught up in the suitor circle again. Still, she enjoyed the company of this woman. Maybe there were other young people she could spend time with without the weight of marriage on their minds. “My school takes up much of my time.”
    “Even teachers need recess.” Anne Heath put her arm through Dorothea’s as they walked toward the waiting carriage.
    Dorothea felt the warmth of another person’s touch and the possibility of a friendship. She did not shrink away.

Nine
Friends Sublime
    Anne Heath had four younger sisters, a gregarious mother, a humorous father, and a home that others flocked to on Sunday afternoons like fox squirrels to bird feeders. Dorothea enjoyed the quiet tea with Anne, then found herself the next weekend with the Heath clan, as Mrs. Heath called her brood. The sweet aroma of kindness floated over the household, and Dorothea allowed herself to be wrapped within it.
    Both Elizabeth and Mary, the youngest of the five Heath daughters, had leather-colored hair and blue eyes and were the instigators of the games they introduced before Dorothea had time to memorize the names of the other guests. They laughed over family stories. They primped each other’s clothing, commented on their hairpieces and the stitching capabilities of each.
    Seventeen-year-old Mary giggled easily as her sisters fluffed her curls. She was the only one to have natural waves in her hair. They exchanged stories of beaus, although Anne had none. Their parents expressed compliments both at the ideas articulated by their daughters and at their actions in caring for others. Theysewed clothes for the poor and collected alms for those imprisoned. Like Dorothea, Anne deplored the practice of local jails charging for people to come and “view the imbeciles” often housed in debtors’ jails.
    “I don’t think it at all Christian for people to gawk at others who are impaired through no means of their own,” Dorothea said, thinking of her mother.
    “But some are there because of their foolish choices,” Anne said. “Consider the rum business and the sugar imports and what excesses do to families whose husbands grow crazy for drink.”
    “But those with epilepsy, flight of mind, mongoloid features; these are not there for reason of rum.” Dorothea felt her skin prickle. She had not disagreed with Anne before.
    “We need protection from them,” Susan Heath ventured.
    “Do we? I’m not so sure they do not need protection from us who are supposed to be more civilized. We charge coins to view them? Hardly civilized.”
    “No reason to argue, girls,” Mr. Heath interrupted.
    Silence filled the room before Mary told a story of losing her hat on the lake and the rush of boys who splashed into the water to be the first to retrieve it. Dorothea’s heart steadied.