These Tangled Threads
THESE
TANGLED
THREADS
Books by Tracie Peterson
www.traciepeterson.com
A Slender Thread • I Can’t Do It All! **
What She Left for Me • Where My Heart Belongs
ALASKAN QUEST
Summer of the Midnight Sun
Under the Northern Lights • Whispers of Winter
THE BROADMOORE LEGACY*
A Daughter’s Inheritance
BELLS OF LOWELL*
Daughter of the Loom • A Fragile Design • These Tangled Threads
LIGHTS OF LOWELL*
A Tapestry of Hope • A Love Woven True • The Pattern of Her Heart
DESERT ROSES
Shadows of the Canyon • Across the Years
Beneath a Harvest Sky
HEIRS OF MONTANA
Land of My Heart • The Coming Storm
To Dream Anew • The Hope Within
LADIES OF LIBERTY
A Lady of High Regard • A Lady of Hidden Intent
A Lady of Secret Devotion
WESTWARD CHRONICLES
A Shelter of Hope • Hidden in a Whisper • A Veiled Reflection
YUKON QUEST
Treasures of the North • Ashes and Ice • Rivers of Gold
Books by Judith Miller
www.judithmccoymiller.com
FREEDOM’S PATH
First Dawn • Morning Sky • Daylight Comes
POSTCARDS FROM PULLMAN
In the Company of Secrets • Whispers Along the Rails
An Uncertain Dream
*with Judith Miller **with Allison Bottke and Dianne O’Brian
TRACIE PETERSON
AND
JUDITH MILLER
THESE
TANGLED
THREADS
These Tangled Threads
Copyright © 2003
Tracie Peterson and Judith Miller
Cover design by Dan Thornberg
Photo of house on cover is courtesy of Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Historic American Buildings Survey or Historic American Engineering Record, Reproduction Number HABS, CONN,8–CANBU,1–2.
Photo of girl standing by chair on cover is courtesy of Denver Public Library, Western History Collection, photo by Scott, X-21539.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-7642-2690-8
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Peterson, Tracie.
These tangled threads / by Tracie Peterson and Judith Miller.
p. cm. — (Bells of Lowell ; 3)
ISBN 0-7642-2690-8 (pbk.)
1. Women—Massachusetts—Fiction. 2. Women textile workers—Fiction. 3. Textile industry—Fiction. 4. Fugitive slaves—Fiction. 5. Lowell (Mass.)—
Fiction. I. McCoy-Miller, Judith. II. Title.
PS3566.E7717T48 2003
813'.54—dc21
2003013906
* * *
Dedicated to Beth Weishaar
With grateful thanks for your
enduring friendship throughout the years.
God’s blessing on you, dear friend.
—Judy
TRACIE PETERSON is the author of over seventy novels, both historical and contemporary. Her careful research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling HEIRS OF MONTANA and ALASKAN QUEST series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana.
JUDITH MILLER is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her novels, many of which have appeared on the CBA bestseller lists. Judy and her husband make their home in Topeka, Kansas.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 1
Lowell, Massachusetts
Sunday, September 8, 1833
“I object to this marriage—the woman is not free to wed!” The indictment reverberated off the walls and then plummeted to the slate floor of St. Anne’s Episcopal Church. The wedding guests craned their necks, a few murmuring and shifting in their pews before finally retreating into a cocoon of silence.
Arabella Newberry whirled toward the voice, her bridal satin rippling in waves behind her. “What are you doing here?” she cried out, her strained words slicing through the hushed quietude of the sanctuary.
Franklin Newberry edged out of a pew near the rear of the church, moved to the center of the aisle, and squared off with his daughter. Raising a paper into the air like a flag, he waved it above his head. “I hold proof of my words,” he avowed, continuing to brandish the paper overhead while moving down the aisle toward Bella. “She is bound by contract to the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing.” His voice boomed through the church.
Bella reached out and clutched Daughtie’s hand, pulling her friend close. “How did he know? You wrote to him, didn’t you?” she accused, staring into Daughtie’s doe-eyed gaze.
“N-n-n-no,” Daughtie stammered. “How could you even think such a thing?”
There was no time to answer Bella’s claim, for Franklin Newberry was now upon them, pushing Bella to one side as he thrust the document atop Reverend Edson’s open Bible.
“See for yourself!” He stepped back a pace after issuing his command.
Theodore Edson stared at the document lying before him. Quickly scanning the contract, he glanced at Bella’s ashen face and graced her with a look of compassion before turning his attention to Franklin Newberry. “I don’t believe this document to be of legal consequence. It appears to have been signed by Miss Newberry when she was still a child of tender years—and she’s female. I’m not a lawyer, but I don’t believe a judge would find she had capacity to contract.”
“She had capacity among the Shakers. She was old enough to understand the gravity of her decision, and the Shakers believe in equality between the sexes. She held the same ability to contract as any man and she is bound.” Franklin reached out and grasped his daughter’s wrist.
Bella tugged against his hold and winced as her father’s fingers tightened. Her creamy white skin quickly turned red and was now beginning to resemble the bluish-purple shade of an overripe plum. She wiggled her fingers. Pinpricks ebbed through her hand, and she pumped her fingers in and out, praying the action would permit a smidgen of blood to pass through her father’s constricting grasp.
“You’re hurting me. T
urn loose my wrist.” The words hissed from between her clenched teeth.
Disregarding the plea, he gave her an icy stare, one that would freeze the warmest of hearts. She willed herself to maintain a steady gaze. Should she look away, her father would believe he had the advantage. “You are coming with me.” His voice was cold, void of emotion.
Bella ignored the ripple of fear flowing through her body and with an air of determination jutted her chin forward. “No! I intend to marry, and nothing you say or do will prevent this wedding from taking place. Create a scene if you must, but when I leave this church, my name will be Mrs. Taylor Manning.”
“Indeed it will,” Taylor agreed. His chest puffed out a bit. “I think you’d best leave,” he said, raising his voice loud enough for the entire congregation to hear.
Bella shot him a look of gratitude. She was beginning to think he’d lost his ability to speak.
Franklin turned his frosty stare upon Taylor. “You’re the one who invited me. Now that I’ve arranged to be present, you want me to leave? I’ll depart right now, so long as my daughter accompanies me.”
Bella leaned around her father’s large frame in order to see Taylor. “You? You invited my father to attend our wedding? How could you do such a thing without asking me?”
“I was hoping the two of you could resolve your differences and mend your relationship. What better time to apologize and grant forgiveness than on this happy occasion?”
“Apology? You think I owe this disrespectful, vow-breaking girl an apology?” Franklin Newberry’s voice once again boomed through the church.
“Forgiveness? I don’t need his forgiveness.” Bella’s voice was no match for her father’s, but she knew he heard her words, and that was all that mattered. She looked at Taylor. “Did you truly invite him?” Her voice was now soft and filled with disbelief.
Taylor nodded and gave her a feeble smile. “My intentions were honorable.”
“Indeed they were,” Franklin agreed. “Who can say what it cost him to send a coach to Canterbury in order to have his man deliver an invitation. A noble gesture.”
Reverend Edson cleared his throat. “If this discussion is going to continue, I would suggest we move to another place outside the hearing of the wedding guests. Perhaps we could request they excuse us for a short time,” he suggested.
“I’ve nothing to say that can’t be heard by these people. You asked openly if there was an objection to this marriage, and I’ve voiced my protest for all to hear. Why should we move elsewhere? If Bella truly believes she has a right to marry, let her defend herself in front of her invited guests,” Franklin replied.
Taylor directed his gaze toward Bella. “Had your father sent a response agreeing to attend, I would have told you he was expected. But he sent no reply with the coach driver, nor did he respond later. Consequently, I assumed he would not attend.” Taylor hesitated a moment and arched his eyebrows. “I expected him to follow proper etiquette.”
Her father’s hold loosened, and Bella shook off his hand. “You thought my father would adhere to the rules of etiquette? The only rules he follows are those that take him down a path of ease. That’s why he joined the Shakers—to escape the responsibilities of a wife and daughter. Isn’t that correct, Brother Franklin?” She spoke quietly, her words audible only to Reverend Edson and Taylor. “You were an adult who broke your marriage vows to my mother—vows you made before God. You have no right to speak to me of broken contracts. Your words are fouled by your own behavior. Please leave this place.”
The minister turned his gaze from Bella to her father. “I don’t want to have you forcibly removed, Mr. Newberry. Either take a seat or quietly leave this church. Please.”
Bella watched as her father tugged at his indigo blue surtout and meticulously fitted each cloth-covered button through its buttonhole. Then, with head high and lips twisted in a tight line, he turned on his heel and walked down the aisle, the click of his shoes coldly tapping out his farewell. She squinted against the sunshine that streamed through the arched doors of the foyer, momentarily encircling Franklin Newberry with a dazzling light. Once again her father was turning his back on her.
Bella swallowed hard against the sudden urge to call him back. He hadn’t wanted her years ago when he’d decided to join the Society of Believers, and he still didn’t want her. Why couldn’t he love her for who she was? Why couldn’t her earthly father offer the same unconditional love she’d found in Jesus?
Reverend Edson lightly touched Bella’s arm and brought her back to the present. “Bella? You look pale. Do you want to proceed or shall we wait?” The pastor’s words were a hushed whisper.
Bella glanced at Taylor. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with concern. “We should proceed,” she replied, turning toward the pastor. “But,” she continued, turning her attention back to Taylor, “we need to discuss this entire matter after the ceremony.”
“We don’t want your marriage to begin on a sour note. Perhaps a short interlude would be best,” Reverend Edson encouraged.
Bella gently adjusted the pleats along the waistline of her ivory satin gown. “No need to delay, Reverend Edson. Our marriage will survive the brief discussion of today’s events,” Bella replied with a sweet smile. “Nothing has changed my love for Taylor.”
“Very well. We’ll proceed from where I left off,” he told the congregation.
“Let’s begin after the part where you asked for objections,” Taylor suggested.
Nervous laughter followed by warnings of shh drifted through the sanctuary, eliciting a faint smile from the minister. “Repeat after me,” he instructed Taylor.
Bella listened as Taylor recited his vows and then slipped a gold band onto her trembling finger while he pledged his love. She followed with her own vows before looking up to receive his kiss. Her face tinged scarlet as they turned to face their smiling guests. Tugging at Taylor’s arm, she propelled him forward, down the steps, and out of the church.
“I didn’t realize you were so anxious to be alone with me. I believe we were at a full trot coming down the aisle,” he teased while helping her into their awaiting carriage.
She turned to face him, ready to defend her actions, but burst into laughter when he began imitating their quick escape from the sanctuary. She patted the seat beside her. “Come along. If we hurry, we’ll have a few minutes alone before the guests arrive.”
“Yes, my dear,” he said, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll fortify myself for the tongue-lashing I’m about to receive for my boorish behavior.” He slapped the reins, sending the horses into motion.
She giggled at his remark. “You do realize you almost ruined our wedding.”
“Almost. That’s the key word, my love. Even with my lack of common sense, we still managed to become husband and wife. And having you as my wife is all that matters.”
She gave his arm a playful slap. “How can I remain angry when you’re so willing to be reprimanded?”
“Because I know I was wrong,” he said, his voice suddenly becoming serious. “I realize my actions were foolhardy, and I apologize for taking such liberty without first consulting you, Bella. I give you my word: it won’t happen again. With both of my parents deceased and the remainder of my family in England, and with your mother deceased, I thought it would be nice if your one remaining parent could be in attendance. My genuine wish was for you to experience reconciliation with your father. I foolishly thought our wedding might provide an opportunity for the two of you to make amends. Little did I realize your father would use such an important event to wreak havoc.”
“The wedding gave him a perfect opportunity to return the embarrassment I caused him when I ran off from the Shaker village to work at the mill. I’m sure he viewed my departure from Canterbury as a personal affront rather than what it truly was—an unwillingness to embrace the Shaker beliefs and way of life he had chosen for our family. I only wish my mother could have lived to see me happily married.”
; Taylor’s expression filled with concern. “Bella dear, I didn’t mean to make you sad with all of this talk. I had simply hoped your father would come for the right reasons, such as wanting to resolve differences . . . and to see his lovely daughter in her wedding gown,” Taylor added.
Bella looked heavenward. “If seeing me in my gown was his intent, he could have done so without causing a scene. Instead, he brought along my contract with the Shakers; he obviously desired a confrontation.”
“You’re right. I suppose I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Taylor said while pulling back on the reins and drawing the horses to a stop. “I’ll be pleased when we’re able to move into our own house, and with a bit of luck, it should be finished by the time we return from our wedding trip to England,” he said, helping her down from the carriage and escorting her up the steps of John and Addie Farnsworth’s house.
“Perhaps if you hadn’t insisted on all the intricate stonework, the house would already be completed,” she said, gracing him with an engaging smile.
“Uncle John is the one who insisted upon having Liam Donohue design and build the fireplaces and decorative stonework. When I objected, he said I couldn’t refuse him since he considered it our wedding present—over and above the gift of our journey to England.”
“Yes, but had you not gone on and on about the new fireplaces and beautiful stonework Matthew Cheever had Liam complete in his house, I doubt whether your uncle John would have hired Mr. Donohue. However, I find his choice a unique and wonderful gesture, one we’ll enjoy for years to come.”
Taylor gave her a broad smile. “I certainly hope so. And here I thought we had hastened back to the house so you would have time to chastise me before our guests arrived.”
Her face grew serious at his comment. “Chastising my husband in public is not something I plan to do. However, I would like you to promise you won’t contact my father again without first discussing such an invitation with me.”
“You have my word and my apology, Mrs. Manning,” he replied, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly.