My current theme with this story is to show the couples becoming closer during that long, snowed-in winter. I'm hoping to eventually write one chapter about each couple. This is Martha and Daniel's chapter, featuring one of this Jewish girl's favorite Christian hymns.
It had been almost a month since the kidnapping, and the girls were doing their best to settle into life at the Pontipee farm. It had been a hard adjustment for all of them, and they still missed their families terribly. And although the six of them were friends, sharing one room was beginning to grate on their nerves, too. Dorcas, Martha, and sometimes Ruth liked to stay up later than the others, and they would all sit together on one of their beds, light a candle, and chatter in whispers until Alice or Liza grumbled about needing to sleep. Alice, Liza, and sometimes Sarah liked to wake up early in the morning, and then Dorcas or Martha would grumble about needing to sleep. Millie did her best to keep the peace between all of them, but the situation was trying for her, too.
It had been Alice's idea to hold a makeshift church service in the parlor every Sunday morning. The other girls had all agreed, for even the ones who didn't like church thought that it would be a good way to break up the monotony of the endless winter days. Of course, it wasn't much of a church service with just the six of them and Millie, but they did their best to mimic Reverend Elcott's services at the church back in town. They arranged the kitcen chairs in the parlor like pews, and then there was an opening prayer, a song, a reading from the Old Testament, a reading from the New Testament, a few minutes for silent prayer, and a closing song.
One Sunday morning, as they were getting ready for the service, Martha noticed that the stack of logs on the hearth beside the parlor fireplace had dwindled low. She hesitated for a moment, debating what to do. Martha hadn't actually set foot outside the house since the night of the kidnapping, but she knew that she couldn't keep that up forever. She looked around to see if someone else was free to go fetch more firewood, but Dorcas and Liza bringing the chairs from the kitchen to the parlor, and the other girls were helping Millie clear the table and wash the breakfast dishes.
So Martha took a deep breath and drew her shawl around her shoulders. She told herself that it was silly to still be afraid of going outside and seeing Daniel. After all, it wasn't as if he could kidnap her again. She opened the kitchen door and boldly stepped outside.
The winter morning was quiet and peaceful, with only a light snow falling, and Martha felt quite proud of herself as she glanced around the farmyard. Then she walked around the corner of the house to wood pile, and much too suddenly, right there in front of her was Daniel Pontipee.
He had been crouching down awkwardly by the parlor window, but when he saw Martha, he sprang upright. Martha gasped and stepped backwards clumsily, and then, furious with herself for acting frightened in front of him, she flew into a rage.
"Daniel Pontipee!" she screamed, and he was so startled that he jerked back, too, his eyes wide. "Just what're you up to sneakin' 'round by that window? Tryin' to peek in at us, I bet! Well, you just wait! I'll tell Millie what you're up to, and she'll—"
"Hey, I weren't doin' no such thing!" Daniel interrupted, his eyes flashing angrily. He paused to take a deep breath, and as he and Martha stared at each other — the first time that they'd been face-to-face since the kidnapping — the moment grew tight with tension. Martha scowled and put one hand on her hip, waiting for an explanation.
Daniel went on more calmly, "I was just... well, I know you all have a church service in the house come Sunday mornin', and I just like to listen to the singin'. It sounds really pretty, Martha, all of you singin' together." He gave her small, hopeful smile.
Martha had thought that she and her friends didn't sing as well as the church choir back in town, so it was heartening to hear that Daniel thought their singing sounded pretty. But she wasn't about to let him see that. He was just trying to butter her up with flattery. Besides, Daniel probably only liked their singing because he had never heard the church choir and had nothing to compare it to. Martha said nothing and made a big show of ignoring him as she began to gather up firewood logs from the pile. Daniel made a move as if to help her, but she glared at him so fiercely that he drew back.
Martha stood with her back to him as she gathered the logs, and when he fell quiet, she thought that he had walked away. She was caught off-guard when he spoke again from behind her. "Uh, say, I's just wonderin' if you all know the song that goes..." Daniel paused, then spoke very slowly, as if he was struggling to remember the words. "Uh, the one that goes, all that thou sendest me, in mercy given?"
Martha blinked, surprised. She didn't know what she'd been expecting Daniel to ask her, but it wasn't that. She nearly told him no... but then she realized that she did know the song. Daniel had spoken the words, not sung them, so she hadn't recognized them right away, but she knew the song they were from.
"I can't remember much of it 'cept for that one line, but I remember my ma used to sing that song 'round the house sometimes," Daniel went on, kicking the snow idly with one foot. "I just... well, I just been thinkin' it'd be nice if you all could maybe sing it sometime."
Martha felt her face grow hot with anger despite the cold winter morning. After what he and his brothers had done, Daniel Pontipee had some nerve to be asking for a favor from her! She said nothing and turned away from him as coldly as she could, and she didn't look behind her as she went back inside the house with her firewood, her head held high.
"Here, let me help you with those, Martha," Alice said, when she reentered the warm kitchen. Her friend took a few of the logs from Martha's arms, and together, they went into the parlor and began setting them onto the hearth beside the fireplace.
It occurred to Martha that if Daniel knew about their church services on Sunday mornings, he had probably heard about it from one of his brothers, who had probably heard about it from one of the other girls. Martha knew that one or two girls had already forgiven their boys and were speaking to them again, but she couldn't imagine doing that herself. No, she intended to stay mad at Daniel Pontipee for a good long time.
So Martha surprised herself when she suddenly asked, "Alice, I was thinkin', for the opening song this morning, how 'bout we sing Nearer My God to Thee?"
"Why, I think that's a right good idea, Martha," Alice said, smiling. "We ain't sung that hymn yet, and it's a good one to sing in hard times."
Martha bit her lip, uncertain of what to do now. Why on earth had she said that? Where had the words even come from? She hadn't meant to suggest singing that song. She had just made her mind up not to do any favors for Daniel. Should she tell Alice that she'd changed her mind? Should she suggest that they sing something else?
But no, it was too late now. Alice was already looking around the parlor, asking, "'Bout time to get started. Does everyone know Nearer My God to Thee?" Liza nodded, and Ruth answered, "Oh, I think so," and Dorcas hummed the first line of it.
And a few minutes later, standing in their places, Millie and the girls sang the entire hymn. On the words "There let the way appear, steps unto heaven," Martha's mind went to Daniel. He'd said that his mother used to sing this song sometimes, and the thought softened some of Martha's anger at him. On the words "All that thou sendest me, in mercy given," she sang out a bit louder, and her eyes went to the parlor window.
She couldn't see him, for he was still crouching down beneath the windowsill, hidden from view. But Daniel could hear them well enough from outside, and there, in the bright, cold winter morning, tears streamed down his face as the sound of woman's voice singing those words filled his home for the first time in almost twenty years. He could imagine the walls and rafters of the parlor soaking in the womens' singing, as if the room itself had wanted to hear that song again, too. It seemed a miracle to him that even after what he'd done to her, Martha had still given him such a gift.