All That Makes Life Bright Read online

  © 2017 Josi S. Kilpack

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, ­Shadow ­Mountain®, at ­[email protected]. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of ­Shadow ­Mountain.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  Visit us at ShadowMountain.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kilpack, Josi S., author.

  Title: All that makes life bright : the life and love of Harriet Beecher Stowe / Josi S. Kilpack.

  Description: Salt Lake City, Utah : Shadow Mountain, [2017] | Includes biblio­graphical references.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016055652 | ISBN 9781629723419 (paperbound)

  Subjects: LCSH: Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 1811–1896—Fiction. | Stowe, C. E. (Calvin Ellis), 1802–1886—Fiction. | Authors, American—19th century—Fiction. | Abolitionists—United States—Fiction. | LCGFT: Biographical fiction. | Historical fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3561.I412 A78 2017 | DDC 813/.54—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016055652

  Printed in the United States of America

  LSC Communications, Crawfordsville, IN

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Book design: © Shadow Mountain

  Cover photo: © Vectorig/Getty Images and alyfromuk2us/sRooM/Getty Images

  Art Direction: Richard Erickson

  Design: Heather G. Ward

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  by Nancy Campbell Allen

  My Fair Gentleman

  Beauty and the Clockwork Beast

  The Secret of the India Orchid

  To Lee, who has helped me realize every dream.

  How I adore you.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Conclusion

  Chapter Notes

  Timeline

  Bibliography

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Introduction

  O, with what freshness, what solemnity and beauty,

  is each new day born; as if to say to insensate man,

  Behold! thou hast one more chance! Strive for immortal glory!

  —Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

  Before I undertook this project, Harriet Beecher Stowe was a name I likely missed on a high school multiple-choice test twenty-five years ago. As I learned more about her and her place in history, however, I was struck by how relevant her story was to my own. Almost two hundred years before I was trying to balance family and writing, Harriet faced the same challenge.

  Like me, Harriet was often overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood, and she struggled to find a time and a place for her writing, yet she fought passionately for both of those things in her life. Like me, she married a man who could accept her creative side while also keeping her grounded. Like me, Harriet found success and contentment in her literary career, her family, and her marriage through trial and error, negotiation, and sacrifice.

  Unlike me, Harriet accomplished all these things during a time when women could not vote, own land, speak in public, hold political office, or attend college. By the end of this project, I stood in absolute awe of Harriet’s accomplishments and had no doubt that Calvin Stowe was her biggest fan as well as a primary reason she was able to have so much influence while still enjoying the blessing of raising her family.

  The resources I used as my primary research gave varied accounts of the personalities of the people reflected in this book. Harriet was portrayed as awkward and shy in one account, but gregarious and outspoken in another. In one resource, Calvin Stowe was a pessimistic hypochondriac who was a thorn in Harriet’s side, and in another he was a ­patient, long-suffering, forward-thinking cheerleader. I decided to base my version of their personalities on the results of their relationship, which was a supportive partnership that strengthened throughout their lives despite different temperaments that oftentimes exasperated them both.

  Please remember that while I tried hard to capture these people, this is a novel, not a biography. I supplemented fact with fiction and changed some timetables for the sake of creating a good story. The “fullness” of Calvin and Harriet’s marriage took longer to develop in real life than I felt I could show in novel form so I condensed the frustrations they both felt during the first decade of their marriage to fit within the eighteen-month period this story covers. I also showed a faster transition in Harriet’s feelings of anti-slavery to abolition in order to include that detail of her character development which is so significant to the impact she made on the world. There are chapter notes at the end of the book that point out my specific changes as well as a bibliography that lists the sources I used should you want to explore Calvin and Harriet’s remarkable lives in more detail.

  I hope that by reading this story Harriet Beecher Stowe will become more than a name in history, that Calvin Stowe will be remembered as the remarkable man I believe him to be, and that you will feel the depth of their having been the perfect partners for one another.

  Chapter One

  January 6, 1836

  Harriet Beecher looked around her bedchamber—which had been transformed into the bride’s room for her wedding day—and found it ironic that all three of her bridal attendants had never been married.

  Aunt Esther, her father’s sister, and Aunt Harriet, her mother’s sister and Hattie’s namesake, had both mothered Hattie at various times in her life. Hattie had only been four years old when her mother died, and she was never quite sure if she remembered Roxanna Foote Beecher or had simply turne
d other peoples’ memories into her own.

  The third bridal attendant was Catharine, Hattie’s older sister by eleven years. She was Hattie’s mentor, teacher, mother in many ways, former business partner, and—sometimes—her dearest friend. Today, however, Catharine would not meet Hattie’s eyes in the mirror as she did up the buttons on the back of Hattie’s wedding dress she had borrowed from a member of their father’s congregation. The tightness of Catharine’s jaw reflected her disapproval that had begun when Hattie accepted Calvin’s marriage proposal. Hattie had held out hope that Catharine’s heart would soften in the months since—she had always wanted Catharine’s approval—but her hope had been in vain.

  “Well,” Aunt Esther said, standing up straight and adding one more article of clothing to the armful of discarded linens she’d been picking up from around the room, “I shall check in on the kitchen and see what else needs to be done.” She flipped open the pocket watch pinned to her apron. “You’ve almost twenty minutes until Henry will come for you, Hattie.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Esther.”

  Aunt Esther smiled and let herself out of the room.

  “I’ll see what I can do to help as well,” Aunt Harriet said. “I do hope they have put the chairs where I told them to.” She came to Hattie and pressed a kiss on her cheek. She smelled of the orange blossoms she’d used to make Hattie’s bouquet. “You make a lovely bride, my dear.” Aunt Harriet’s smile rounded out her apple cheeks. She held Hattie’s eyes a moment, and then turned toward the door.

  Once Aunt Harriet left, Hattie took a breath and turned her attention to her sister. “Aunt Harriet is kind to extend the compliment, but I fear even a dress as fine as this one will never make up for what I lack.”

  Catharine concentrated on her task without responding. There were at least fifty tiny buttons.

  How on earth will I get out of it later?

  Hattie held back a laugh at the realization that it would be Calvin undoing those tiny buttons a few hours from now.

  Goodness.

  Is this truly happening?

  Determined not to let her anxiety of those aspects of matrimony take over, Hattie attempted again to engage her sister. “I suppose it’s a good thing Mr. Stowe has always been attracted to my intellect.”

  Catharine still did not respond, and Hattie’s irritation rose. She had attempted to playfully engage her sister, and it had not worked. So be it. “If you are so angry, Caty, then go help Aunt Esther and send Aunt Harriet back. At least she is happy for me.”

  Catharine finally met Hattie’s eyes in the speckled mirror. “I am happy for you, Hattie.”

  If not for her dry tone, Hattie might have considered believing her. “Ah, I see. That explains why you are so morose and judgmental, then. My mistake.”

  Catharine pursed her lips and concentrated on the buttons again.

  “Is this about the Institute?” If resurrecting that argument would fix things, Hattie would face the tired topic yet again. “I never wanted to be in the classroom, Caty. My being a teacher was your dream for me, not mine.”

  Before Calvin’s proposal, Hattie had accepted that her future would likely be in teaching. She had invested time and money in Catharine’s Western Female Institute when the Beecher family came to Ohio, and she had agreed to help it find its footing in this “London of the West.” That the school had not grown as they had hoped, forcing Hattie to stay in the classroom instead of assuming a more flexible position of management, was not Catharine’s fault. But the school had never been Hattie’s dream, and marriage was a fair enough reason for her to resign her position.

  “I have accepted your leaving the Institute, Hattie.”

  Oh, well, that is good. But if Catharine’s sour disposition was not because of the school, there was but one reason left. During the previous three months they had rather expertly avoided it, like horse dung on the street or the smallest biscuit in the basket.

  Hattie took a breath. “I am not going to lose myself in marriage, Caty, for all your worry that I will. I know I can make my own way but I am choosing not to.”

  Catharine finished the last button on the high neck of the gown and stepped to the side. She faced Hattie fully in the looking glass. “Yes, you are choosing not to. That is the hardest part.”

  Ah, they’d finally arrived at the heart of the matter. “I want to marry Calvin. I want to be his partner, and I want to be a mother.”

  “And waste your gifts—I know.”

  Hattie turned around to face her sister, struck by the caustic reply despite having braced herself for it. “Do you truly believe that becoming a wife and mother puts to waste what God has given me? Have we not taught any number of young women to embrace their God-given roles?”

  “Because a husband and children are all they have to look toward for security,” Catharine said.

  “Are you certain that you are not simply envious that I am to have those roles after all?”

  Catharine’s neck turned red, and her jaw tightened. “I envy nothing you have, Hattie, except for the working of your mind. I am disappointed that you are giving up your writing, your potential, and your influence for what any other woman without such intellect and education could do in your place.”

  “I am not giving up any of those things! Mr. Stowe is proud of what I have accomplished already and promises to help me meet my potential, not hinder my progression.”

  Catharine was shaking her head before Hattie finished. “There is boundless irony in such a promise,” she said, raising a hand to massage her temple. “The very things so attractive to him will be lost, mark my words.”

  “They will not.”

  “They will!” Catharine put her hands on her hips and looked at Hattie, her eyes tight and her jaw set. “Name me one married woman who has a voice left. Even in her own home she is drowned out by the cries of her children and the opinions of her husband. You will give yourself away piece by piece.” She paused and blinked back tears. Catharine’s emotions crashed against Hattie’s growing anger, leaving her feeling unsettled.

  When Catharine spoke next, her voice was soft and tired. “Mother gave up everything of herself for her family. The second Mrs. Beecher did the same, and, should Father marry a woman young enough to still bear him children, his third wife will become one more woman worn through. They were raised at a time when there was nowhere for women to go but from their father’s hearth to their husband’s bed, but you are different, Hattie. Times are changing. Women are being heard, and you have a gift that can make a difference. This isn’t about the Institute or your being in the classroom; it’s about who you have already become on your own and what you will now give up to become Mr. Stowe’s wife instead.”

  Her voice was pleading, and Hattie wished she could concede to Catharine’s argument in some measure.

  Catharine’s tone sharpened so that once again her words were a reprimand. “You are educated and capable, but you will throw away your potential for a girlish fantasy that will bury you.”

  A dozen arguments passed through Hattie’s mind as she stared at her sister. She could hear the ticking of the old walnut clock counting down the minutes toward her marriage. Most of what Catharine had said was true—both their mother and the second Mrs. Beecher had worked themselves quite literally into the ground—but Hattie was not like them. She was herself, and until Hattie proved Catharine wrong there would be no convincing her. Hattie longed for the unity she once shared with her sister, and yet, it seemed obvious that her hopes to dispel the difficulties between them would not be realized. Not today.

  The fight had left her, so Hattie looked away from Catharine’s sharp gaze and fiddled with the folds of the cream-colored silk dress, trying to blink back the tears in her eyes. “Well, you’ve had your say then.”

  Catharine took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Hattie. I had not intended to say such things o
n your wedding day. There is nothing to do but move forward. I will wait downstairs with everyone else.” She let herself out of the room but did not take the heavy mood with her.

  Hattie stared at the closed door and felt her solitude as sharply as the winter wind biting at the windows. The fire in the grate burned off most of the chill, but winter was never completely forgotten in Ohio. Catharine’s words were not easily ignored either. Hattie took a shivering breath and let it out slowly.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  When Calvin had first professed his feelings, Hattie had put him off for the very reasons Catharine had stated. She feared losing herself in the minutiae of daily family life. She had never been a domestic sort, and at twenty-four years of age, she had accepted a future that did not feature a family of her own. Her little geography textbook had done better than anyone expected, and she’d already written nearly a third of her next endeavor—a collection of short stories about New England life. Hattie felt called to write just as surely as Father felt called to preach and Catharine felt called to teach. And yet, even with that knowledge had come the whisper of another calling. God wanted her to marry. God wanted her to marry Calvin Stowe, the man she’d grown to love. And so she would. Doing so would not overtake the whole of her existence.

  Hattie turned back toward the mirror and was startled by her reflection. It was strange to see herself as a bride, but she finally felt centered and calm. The angst of the preceding weeks was gone, and her heart had shifted so there was room for Calvin where there had not been room before. Calvin. Dear Calvin who understood her desire to be a literary woman and who supported such a dream. Was there another man in all of the new America who would support her in such a way?

  We will be happy.

  A smile on her face did not improve her features any more than the dress did; the cleft of her chin remained, as did the squareness of her jaw and the roundness of her gray-blue eyes. Her plain brown hair was done up in curls on either side of her face for today’s occasion. If she squinted her eyes and smiled just right, she almost looked pretty. Almost.