Unruly Human Hearts, Excerpt by Barbara Southard

Elizabeth Tilton, a devout housewife, shares liberal ideals with her husband, Theodore Tilton, and their pastor and close friend Reverend Henry Ward Beecher, both influential reformers of the Reconstruction Era who promote suffrage for women and former slaves and advocate for the spiritual power of love rather than Calvinistic retribution.

Elizabeth is torn between admiration for her husband’s stand on women’s rights and resentment of his dominating ways at home. When Theodore justifies his extramarital affairs in terms of the free love doctrine that marriage should not restrict other genuine loves, she becomes closer to Henry, who admires her spiritual gifts—and eventually falls passionately in love with him.

Once passion for her pastor undermines the moral certainties of her generation, Elizabeth enters into uncharted emotional and ethical territory. Under what circumstances should she tell the truth? If she does, will she lose her children and her marriage? Will she destroy her own reputation and the career of the reverend who has done much good? Can a woman accustomed to following the leadership of men find her own path and define her own truth?

Excerpt: Our souls are made for love

The clock chimes eleven times and still Henry has not come. On the sofa with a basket of sewing by my side, I try hard to concentrate on making the hemstitches fine and straight. Our last conversation is fresh in my memory. It was one of those conversations full of starts and stops and quick deflections, as the children wandered in and out of the upstairs sitting room where I was talking with Henry. Since our walk in the park, Henry visits more frequently and our conversations have become more intimate. I can open the innermost recesses of my being to my dearest friend with no fear that he will misunderstand. We have developed a rhythm of making a rapid turnabout in the theme of an intimate talk whenever Bessie or one of the children pops in, without pausing or changing the tone of voice in which we are conversing.

On his last visit, I finally told Henry about Theodore’s confession of infidelity. It was not as difficult to talk about as I had anticipated. Henry expressed no surprise, and he was sympathetic to me without criticizing Theo.

The doorbell sounds. With a feeling of elation, I kiss Henry on one cheek and then the other. For a moment he wraps his arms around me in a hug and then steps lightly aside.

“It is always so good to see you.” I welcome him. “Come sit down and have a cool drink.”

We sit in the parlor, but Henry declares himself not thirsty. I want to continue yesterday’s interrupted conversation about love and fidelity, but don’t know how to start. He shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. Then with no introduction, he addresses me. “In our last conversation, my dearest friend, I saw another side of your pure soul, your infinite capacity for forgiveness and love. What sweetness and sacrifice you bring to family life! Instead of blaming Theo you took the blame on yourself, wondering whether it was perhaps some lack of affection and care on your part.”

“Some would consider it a weakness on my part,” I acknowledge, thinking of my mother, who scolded me for being a fool, letting Theo off so easily.

“Yes,” says Henry, “I am sure there are many women, including my wife, who would consider it unforgivable. I believe differently, and I admire you, my dearest friend, because I believe to forgive out of genuine love is not a position of weakness, but of real spiritual strength. We are redeemed by forgiveness.”

As always, dear Henry has faith in my goodness. Painful memories of intense jealousy and anger against Theo make me doubt whether I deserve such praise. But Henry is right. We must cultivate love, not hate.

“You look sad,” says Henry. “What are you thinking?”

“There are many things I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“Theo insisted that he never stopped loving me, though sometimes he thought I was indifferent, but while loving me he simultaneously fell in love with someone else. I thought he was just saying that to ease my pain, but now I am not sure. Is it possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time?” I ask Henry.

“I think it is possible.” Henry takes my hand and strokes it. “But we won’t talk any further of this if it is painful to you, my dear friend.”

Henry is paying tribute to my womanly delicacy without understanding my need for an answer. Theo’s infidelity is no longer what tortures me. It’s my own inner struggle with feelings that can’t be suppressed.

I grip both his hands and look directly into his eyes. “Henry, tell me honestly, I must know. It is very important to me.”

“Then I will tell you what I really think. Yes, Elizabeth, dearest, I do believe that we can love more than one person. I am sure of it. Our souls are made for love, and the more spiritually developed we are, the more capacity we have for love.”

Turning my head away from Henry, I murmur in a scarcely audible voice, “Henry, could I be in love with Theo and also with . . . you?”

The question seems to reverberate in the whole room, and I can hear the sharp intake of Henry’s breath.

He reaches out, grasps my shoulder, and turns me toward him, avowing that he has loved me for two long years, passionately, with no hope that his love would ever be returned. He has never spoken of his love because he respected my innocence, and then my bereavement. Henry has never felt so close to anyone in his whole life. He assures me that our affinity is such that we instinctively think and feel alike. When I start a sentence, he knows already what I will say. The connection between our souls is so deep it goes beyond the ordinary love of man and woman.

Henry kisses me, first on the forehead, my noble brow as he calls it, then full on the mouth, and gently down my neck. My body is trembling. “The curtains,” I gasp, disentangling myself from Henry’s embrace and moving to close the drapes that open toward the street.

Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Unruly-Human-Hearts-Barbara-Southard/dp/1647428300

Meet Barbara Southard

Barbara Southard grew up in New York, earned a PhD from the University of Hawaii, and served as professor in the History Department of the University of Puerto Rico. In addition to academic publications on women’s history, she is the author of The Pinch of the Crab, a short story collection set in Puerto Rico, exploring social conflicts of island life, mostly from the perspective of women and girls. In her debut novel Unruly Human Hearts, Barbara once again explores social conflict from the point of view of the woman involved in a different place and epoch. She has also been active in raising funds for the Shonali Choudhury Fund of the Community Foundation of Puerto Rico, helping local community organizations working to protect women from domestic violence.