“Doesn’t hold up.”
“Doesn’t hold up because Tucker chews it,” Pewter tattled.
“I don’t know if spiders poop, but I hope the teacup spider poops on you!” She bared her teeth.
“Will you two stop?” Harry glared, then returned to Anne. “They were noisy at Nature First.”
“Harry, they’re usually noisy. Forgot. Lisa loves books about dinosaurs. She’s like a kid.”
“Well, I recall she had some in her pile just after Christmas. I thought maybe I’d get her a book. I love to give books.”
Anne advised, “Even if someone receives a book about something different, not a special interest, I think it feeds their curiosity.”
“That’s a good idea. Let me get that book, paperback, about Von Humboldt. Susan will be intrigued.”
“Bottom left shelf.”
Harry, Tucker with her, found the book. The cats sat behind the counter.
“Did you ever see Jurassic Park?” Harry asked. “Given Gary’s collection of tiny rubber dinosaurs, Lisa’s interest, maybe we should watch it again.”
“No,” Anne emphatically said. “Those little raptor dinosaurs in the kitchen were horrible.”
“Made me want to keep the lights on,” Harry agreed.
“Not a bad idea.” Anne nodded. “Who knows what’s out there?”
“I know Gary came in here. He’d tell me what was new on the table.”
“Glad you dropped in.”
“Me, too.” Harry walked outside.
23
March 20, 1787
Tuesday
The exterior of St. Luke’s, the stonework, had been finished for months now. Interior work took longer. The two-story buildings at the ends of the arched walkways from the main building echoed the main building. They would contain offices, housing for visitors, perhaps even some students of the faith. The pastor’s house, clapboard as opposed to stone, at a distance from the church itself, sent up smoke from the large fireplace in the parlor. Men continued to work in the home, finishing touches. They could work faster if warm.
The interior of the church at this moment was not warm. Given the size of the space, two enormous fireplaces proved necessary. One heated the front of the church, placed in the right corner, and one at the rear, in the left corner. The balcony also had a small fireplace, which would keep the choir and those in the balcony reasonably warm. This tapped into the main flue from the left fireplace.
The large panel windows, three sections cleverly made to look like one, could be tipped outward in hot weather. Charles sited the church for the wind flow off the Blue Ridge Mountains. Although not trained as an architect, studying the buildings in the mid-Atlantic, a few from the late-seventeenth century, gave him a freedom he would not have felt in his native England. However, living with castles, churches, abbeys, and stables, some built right after the Norman Conquest, provided a useful education. He grew up with structures made to last, and he hoped to create a church that would last long into the future of this New World.
As it was, St. Luke’s was anchored to the past with the arches recalling monks walking from the cloisters. The proportions of the church carried a hint of Norman grandeur, but the interior was quite modern.
Charles designed pews to be as comfortable as possible. They would be topped off with long cushions. Most of the carpentry work was complete. Pulling his scarf a bit tighter around his neck, he stood with Rachel, who helped sort out decisions and copy his drafts, for her hand was good. However, no one’s hand could match Charles’s. His penmanship would have put a royal clerk to shame, and he could imitate anything.
“The organ will sound heavenly.” She smiled as Frank Ix sanded down the pulpit one more time.
“Cost a fortune. The men to install will demand a high wage. Rooms will be ready for them. We will pay, for no one here can do what those Germans can do.” Charles crossed his arms across his chest. “This is not a thriving congregation, as you know. They have given so much. I have never met a group of people so united in their faith, so determined that their children should be brought up Lutheran.”
“And neither of us were.” She slipped her arm through his because she liked being close to him, but he would warm her hand even though it was gloved.
“I did as I was told. Trudged to chapel at Harrow, same at Oxford. Never really thought about it. For my father, church was another social obligation. A way to stand above, since as a baron, he would be called upon to contribute and seated in front in the family pew, which has been there since the fourteenth century.”
“And now your brother?”
Charles’s father had died. His older brother, Hugh, inherited the title, along with massive debt since Baron West had denied himself nothing. To his credit he did see his two sons to a good education, then packed off Charles to the Army. Well, the young man had to learn something, and he certainly wasn’t cut out for the church. So like all younger sons in England, Charles found himself socially desirable but impoverished.
“Hugh will try.” He sighed. “He keeps borrowing against the estate. We have no mines, a source of wealth. All we have is land, and father proved a poor manager. He always overrode the true manager. So my brother struggles. He is not profligate but one does incur heavy responsibilities in his position. I am grateful to God that I was captured at Saratoga, sent down here. The long march from Saratoga to Virginia opened my eyes to the future. Someday, my love, you will see the country of my birth. It is beautiful and yet, here, here I can do and be as I wish.” He beamed at her. “And I met you. There aren’t women like you in England, sweetheart. One marries according to one’s station. Love has little to do with it, although over the years a couple can learn to care for each other.”