A Heart for Freedom: He longs for freedom, but won’t risk the lives of those he loves.

by Janet S. Grunst

  Later at dinner, the Stewarts and Gordons enjoyed banter and laughter, which were lately in short supply.

  Mary sat at the table, rocking Sara. “’Tis Yuletide. We should gather some greens and decorate. Mark, I can cut some holly if you will bring some pine boughs.”

  Heather smiled. The children’s spirits were improving. “That is an excellent idea. We may yet have patrons this season. I will heat some spiced cider.”

  Polly got up and gathered the dishes. “You make your plans while I wash these.”

  Thomas put some more logs on the fire before rejoining the others at the table. “George Whitcomb spotted a five-point yesterday. We plan to go hunting in the morning. You boys want to join us?”

  They all responded with enthusiasm.

  Polly stood in the doorway, animated and grinning. “We have guests riding up the path.”

  The guests might be friends, or perhaps—Matthew.

  Heather rushed from the common room to the kitchen window to see. Though she was disappointed the horse didn’t carry her beloved, she was pleased at who was coming. “Andrew and James—how wonderful. I had forgotten they planned to come in December.”

  Polly squeezed her hand, her eyes conveying understanding. “I shall go tell the children.”

  An hour later, Polly served their guests spiced cider and hot chocolate while they gathered around the fire, relaying all their activities since they were last together. Most of the tales were of Mary and Mark’s visit to Philadelphia.

  Heather motioned Andrew to join her in the front parlor. Closing the door behind them, she steadied herself. “I did not want to say anything in front of the children when you asked about Matthew. We all are frightened and confused about his absence.”

  “I received your letter and would have been here sooner, but I wanted to wait for James to join me. Have you learned anything?”

  She sat on the settee. “Nay, and none of this makes sense. Matthew would have gotten word to us if something kept him from returning.”

  He sat beside her. “I made inquiries in Fredericksburg and every town and village around, but I learned nothing.”

  “Bless you for all your help.”

  “And your neighbors had no knowledge of his plans?”

  “Nay, no one knows anything.” She bit her lip.

  “What is it?”

  “Some people have asked if he was involved with the Patriot cause, and others wonder if he is aligned with the Tories.”

  Andrew stood by the hearth and leaned his back against the brickwork. “We should not be surprised people would speculate during these times, but Matthew steers clear of politics. The suggestion he would leave his family to support the Crown is laughable. You mentioned he might have had some business in Alexandria or possibly Annapolis. I will go there and learn if any of my acquaintances have any leads.”

  She stood and paced. “Our neighbor, Aaron Turner, went to Leesburg and learned nothing. He is going to Alexandria and will meet with Adam Duncan, who has also made inquiries.” She looked up into Andrew’s gentle eyes. His sad expression broke her heart. He was well acquainted with loss. Her tears flowed. Weeks of strain, exhaustion, and trying to be strong left her emotions raw. Sobs from deep inside burst forth, and her whole body shook.

  Andrew walked to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Take heart, Heather.” He had a helpless expression as he shook his head. “A man does not just disappear. We will find him. Try not to fear, and do not lose faith. There may be an explanation we have not yet considered.”

  She reached into her pocket for her handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks and nose before looking up. She was thankful for his friendship, encouraged by his offer of aid, and hopeful he would provide some answers. Standing back, she rubbed her neck. “I am so grateful for your help. We’d better join the others, or they may wonder whether you are providing information I’m not sharing with them.”

  Later that night after everyone bid their good-nights, she went upstairs to her bedroom. She fed Sara and then pulled out her Bible for encouragement and guidance. The bayberry candles in the mirrored sconces on the wall beside the bed provided ample light, but she sat several minutes, staring at the words. Lord, I sense You are telling me to search the Scriptures. Where do I start? The Psalms always brought great comfort. As she turned the pages to the Psalms, they opened to Psalm 119, and her eyes fell on the 130th verse, which both stunned her and brought a giggle.

  “The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the simple.”

  Well, I need light and understanding. Are You also reminding me I am simple?

  She continued reading where she’d left off the previous night. Turning to her ribbon located in the Gospel of Luke, she began reading but kept stopping, finding it difficult to concentrate. The earlier verse she’d read in Psalm 119 kept playing through her head.

  “The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding.”

  The next morning, Heather brought hoecakes and ham to the table in the common room. Mary announced that the boys had agreed to stay and decorate the Green rather than join George hunting.

  Heather looked across the table at them. “’Twill bring some much-needed joy to the Yule season.”

  Andrew smiled at the young people. As nice as it was seeing him enjoying the children, it was a painful reminder of how empty their home was without Matthew.

  After they finished eating and clearing the dishes, Mary and James left to cut holly. Mark, Todd, and Philip planned to cut pine boughs later.

  Douglas tugged at Heather’s skirt. “What can I do, Mama?”

  She smiled. “We should gather some pine cones. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, can we go now?”

  “Later, my sweet.”

  Mary and James returned a short while later with armloads of holly loaded with bright red berries. Mary searched through the hutch drawers at the end of the room. “Have we any ribbon?”

  “I believe we have some left from our sewing preparations for Philadelphia. I will look.” The children’s enthusiasm over their project delighted her. Now to keep the youngster’s spirits buoyed in the days to come.

  Andrew, James, and the children were seated at a table. James looked first to Mary as she rummaged through a wooden box, then to Andrew. He appeared to be searching for words. “I want to call at the Whitcombs’ home while we are here. It would be courteous since I spent time with Martha in Williamsburg this past summer.” His cheeks were flushed.

  Mary’s head bobbed up from her search for ribbon. “You should call on them after we finish the decorations.”

  Mary’s arched eyebrow and expression suggested she might not have completely accepted James and Martha’s growing rapport. Dear Lord, please protect their friendships. Heather focused on her other guest. “Andrew, may I get you anything else?”

  “More coffee would be appreciated. Have you a recent copy of the Gazette?”

  “I believe there’s one on the sideboard.”

  “Aye.” He stood and located the newspaper. “Now that Congress has established an American Navy, I am wondering if they will go after Dunmore. Did you know he has issued a call to slaves to rebel against their masters? He is making them all sorts of grand promises.”

  “I did read that. Very troubling indeed.”

  Philip came into the common room. “Todd is outside. We can go get the pine boughs now.”

  Mark got up from the table. “The saws are in the barn.” He grabbed several of the warm biscuits on his way to the door. “We will need these in case we get hungry while we are working.”

  CHAPTER 23

  A loud crack woke Matthew. Was that gunfire? He glanced around the cabin, but no one was in sight. He tried to lift his head. The dizziness returned. Water, he needed water.

  The door opened, and Anna came in wrapped in her heavy shawl and carrying a basket. She gave him a broad smile. “Du är vaken. Pardon. You are awake.”

  �
��I’m thirsty, Anna.”

  “I get you water.”

  Matthew turned his head toward the window beside his pallet. Ice hung on the branches of the tree. Why was he so hot if it was freezing outside?

  “Here, take sip.”

  He turned back to the woman sitting on the stool by his pallet. She held a pewter cup out to him.

  Matthew closed his eyes. He hardly had strength to lift his head. Anna’s hand on the back of his head felt cold, but she had been outside.

  “You burning up. Must have fever.” Her eyes had a gentleness about them, but her expression was one of worry. She lifted his head so he could drink.

  The cool water felt good on his lips and relieved his dry mouth and throat.

  “Slowly, or you get sick again.” Anna eased his head back on the drenched pillow and set the cup on the table beside the pallet.

  “Did I hear gunfire a while ago?”

  “Ja. Sköt en hjort. Engelsk.” Her pale blue eyes squinted. “Oden shot deer.”

  Matthew sighed. Better a deer shot than him, again. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, Anna had a cold damp rag she was patting all over his face.

  “I make you some bark tea and a poultice for wound.”

  Matthew drifted off and woke to the sound of voices. It was dark. How long had he slept?

  “Oden, komma,” Anna said.

  Oden and Anna approached him. “Drink this tea for fever. Oden hold you; I put poultice on.”

  He was shaking and cold when he sipped the odd concoction. There was the brandy bottle again. His body tensed. He knew what was coming.

  Oden held his arms down as Matthew bit down on the cloth and Anna peeled back the dressing on his side. He nearly passed out from the intense pain as she cleaned his wound with brandy. It continued to sting long after she had dressed it and covered him up with a blanket.

  He struggled to stay awake, but Anna’s ministrations had drained him of what little strength he had. Bless them, Lord, for caring for me. Help me heal and get stronger.

  It was light when Matthew next awoke. The smell of something cooking made him hungry. He scanned the room. Anna was seated at the table.

  “May I have some water?”

  “Ja.” She was smiling when she brought the cup. Gently, she drew his head up to drink.

  He took a sip. “How long have I been here. What day is it?”

  She looked away for a minute. “Hmm. Jultid—Yuletide.”

  He closed his eyes. The end of December? Had to be about six weeks he had been gone. What to do? He would need to think this through.

  “How you feel?”

  “A bit better. Not hot or cold.”

  “Bra, bra.”

  “What?”

  “Good. Today, I bathe you. You smell.”

  Laughing hurt, but she amused him—when she wasn’t torturing him.

  The door opened and Heather glanced at the clock. One o’clock. Mark and the Gordon boys returned with plenty of pine boughs.

  Mary was separating the holly into piles. “I still have not found the ribbon.”

  “Mary, I’m going upstairs to feed Sara. I will look for some. We will need the bowls for the cock-a-leekie, and there is bread pudding prepared. You can assemble the decorations after dinner.”

  Heather’s mind wandered as she fed Sara. Andrew and James’ visit had brought distraction and cheer back into their home, but thoughts of Matthew robbed her of her momentary joy. As she caressed Sara’s cheek, a tear fell onto the bairn’s forehead. Nay, concentrate on all the blessings.

  God is faithful. He will provide everything we need, even answers, in His time. “The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding.”

  She glanced over at the chest-on-chest. She must remember to look in the drawer for ribbon.

  After Sara was settled in the cradle, Heather went to the chest. When she tried to pull open the drawer, it jammed. She pulled Matthew’s drawer out above it to clear the jam. After placing his drawer on the bench at the foot of the bed, she searched the notion drawer, pulling out various ribbons the young folks might use.

  What? She looked to where she had set Matthew’s drawer. How odd. His Bible was in the drawer. Why had he left his Bible? He usually took it with him when he was gone for several days. She set the ribbons down and picked up the well-worn Bible and thought of the Scripture she’d read the night before. “The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding.”

  Why had he not taken his Bible? She sat on the bed next to the drawer and stared at the worn leather cover. That he had left it behind was unsettling. She closed her eyes and held it to her chest. It was as close as she had felt to him for so long.

  She placed it on her lap and rubbed her hand across the leather cover before opening it. There at the beginning of the Book of Joshua were two folded pieces of paper, one larger than the other. It gave her a start as she unfolded them. Matthew’s handwriting. She read the larger page.

  Dearest Heather,

  In the event something interferes with my return, you need to know that nothing in my power would keep me from being with you and the children, the people I love most in this world. Hopefully, my absence is only a delay, and if I have an opportunity, I will get word to you. If I do not come home, you are to go on with your life and find as much joy as possible.

  Still holding the letter, her hand dropped to her lap. Her other hand went to her throat. Trying to catch her breath, she continued.

  You are a strong and capable woman, and I have every confidence you will make wise decisions when it comes to the children, our farm, the ordinary, and your future. You should be able to operate the ordinary for many years to come. Keep the farm for Mark and Douglas if you can. Should you need to sell some of it, or all of it, do what you think is wise.

  I am comforted knowing we have fine friends and neighbors who will aid you in any way you may require. I hope Thomas and his family will remain. I know the Duncans, the Turners, and Andrew Macmillan will do anything they can to offer assistance. They are good people.

  God is faithful, Heather, never lose sight of that. You are a woman of faith, and I know our Lord will be with you, guiding you, and providing all you need.

  Your loving husband,

  Matthew

  Her breathing grew labored, and her hand trembled holding the rough parchment. Setting it aside, she unfolded the smaller paper.

  I know you may keep my letter, so I am providing you with this information–and then you must destroy it.

  There are some extra funds buried in a jar halfway between the Green and the well. Use them as needed. You may remember Mr. Martin Jones and Mr. Lucas Stephens, who were guests at the Green earlier this year. If they return, they may have helpful insights or information regarding my mission. You can trust them.

  I remain loyal to you, our children, and the colonies.

  Matthew

  Her head throbbed as she tried to process all Matthew had revealed. What did this mean? He had anticipated something might keep him from coming home. But what? She must show these notes to Andrew. What should she tell the children?

  She refolded the letters and put them back in Matthew’s Bible. What if she had never gotten into his drawer and found them?

  “The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding.” She clutched the Bible to her chest. Lord, You did this. You led me to open the Scriptures. How many other times have You answered my questions and I have been unaware?

  Heather studied the group gathered with their greenery in the common room. Douglas beamed with pride at his bucket full of pinecones. Mary was setting the table for dinner. The savory aroma of the cock-a-leekie wafted in from the kitchen, so she wandered back there to find out if it needed attention. Mary joined her to help.

  Andrew came in from outside. “Something smells wonderful.” His face was red and damp from sweating as he removed his coat and rubbed his hands together in front of the hearth.

&nbs
p; Heather’s heart ached as she studied the man. He reminded her of Matthew when he came inside after working.

  “Got some of the wood split,” he said.

  “You do not need to cut wood. Thomas and the boys do that.”

  “I know, but I want to help. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Mary slammed the wooden trencher onto the work table. “Find our father, Mr. Macmillan. Papa’s inexplicable absence is breaking our hearts.”

  Andrew stopped abruptly and turned toward her, his eyes full of empathy.

  Heather went to her daughter’s side. “Mary, you needn’t ...”

  Andrew held up his hand. “’Tis a justifiable request.”

  Mary looked down at the bread in front of her. “I’m sorry. We are all so anxious for Papa to come home, and we do not know what to do or where to turn.”

  He came over to the table where Mary stood. “I have already started making inquiries on my way here, and I will go to Alexandria and Annapolis and look for answers there also. Do not lose heart. There has to be a reason for his delay, and as soon as I learn anything, I will get word to all of you.”

  Mary ducked her head and swiped at a stray tear. “We are so grateful.”

  When they were seated and had given thanks, they began their meal. Heather looked at her soup, but her mind kept wandering back to Matthew’s letters. She was overjoyed to have gotten them, but they raised so many questions. She glanced at Andrew. He and James were listening to Mark’s animated retelling of his visit to Carpenter’s Hall and the shipyard. She would show him Matthew’s letters and find out what he thought.

  When the meal was over, she and Mary gathered the dishes and took them to the kitchen.

  “What is wrong, Mama? You are so quiet.”

  “I’m fine. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Papa?”

  When tears formed in her eyes, she quickly glanced away.

  “Do not cry. Mr. Macmillan said he will try to find Papa. What more can we do?” Mary put her arms around her, and for a moment they held each other in silence.