by Becky Lower
• ♥ •
Patterson blazed a trail through the forest once daylight approached and ran for the small hunting cabin in the woods, his heart pounding. Hopefully, Adam had gotten home in time to get everyone to safety. As if there were a safe place in Groton or New London. The cabin wasn’t far enough away. But it was the best alternative Patterson could come up with on the spur of the moment. A million different scenarios played out in his mind as he dashed through the woods. He uttered a short prayer as he swallowed the bitter taste of his fear. “Into Thy hands, Lord. Please let them be safe.”
He slowed his headlong pace as he neared the cabin. The British might have overtaken it, too. There was no safety to be had in Groton. He hung back in the trees surrounding the small cabin, he waited for his breathing to level off before moving forward. He kept his gaze on the cabin, searching for any signs of activity. But there was no movement from either the British or from his family.
He scurried to the rear of the building, hugging the wall with an ear up against the rough wood. No sound emanated from inside. Longing for a gun, he tiptoed around the side of the building and stepped onto the small porch. Still no sound. Praying his family was huddled inside, he threw open the door and backed off to the right, in case someone was inside with a rifle pointed at the entrance. Still nothing. No noise, except the crack of the door as it hit the wall.
Taking a breath, Patterson poked his head around the opening. And then stepped inside. Nothing. No one was here. Where were they? The bile of fear threatened to choke him. To drive him to his knees. He sank to the floor and put his trembling hands to his face. Had they not been able to get away from the house before it burned? Had they been trapped inside? He had to find them. At least he could grab a rifle from the cabin and feel some measure of protection.
He rose and dashed to the corner of the room, where the hunting rifles were stacked. He loaded one and crammed some additional ammunition into his pockets. One of the handguns was missing, but that gave him no measure of comfort. Someone had been here, but whether friend or foe, he had no clue. He glanced around the small cabin again, searching for some clue, some sign Eleanor and the children had been here, but could find nothing. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the rifle and ran toward town. Or what was left of it.
Toward what was left of his family. Fear again clogged his throat and he had trouble breathing. More than once, he had to stop and bend over to catch his breath. His leg howled in pain and his limp became worrisome. He clung to the forest rather than the footpath, figuring he was safer, even if his progress was slower. The smoke-filled air made his throat ache. But the ache in his throat didn’t match the ache in his heart. Would he ever see his family again? Had Eleanor been taken away by her countrymen? Had the whole world been spun on its head?
As he got closer to town, he emerged from the forest and got on the dirt path, where his progress was impeded by panicked people racing in the other direction.
“Turn around, you fool!” They yelled as he dashed past them. “There’s nothing left. Groton has been leveled.”
“There must be something left.” Patterson muttered as he shoved his way past the hordes. “I’ve lost too much as it is.” His eyes smarted as he ran into the ruins of Groton.
It was hard to tell which road he was on. The only indication of where the town had been was piles of rubble on either side of every street. Everything was still smoldering, and the roads were clogged with people. Some stood by in dazed confusion as the last portions of the only homes they’d ever known caved in, creating a host of sparks and a hiss of fury.
Patterson finally located the right street and stood in front of what was left of his home. As he faced his house, the table where his family gathered each evening crumbled and fell into the ashes. There was nothing left of his home. His body trembled, longing to run through the rubble to find what was left of his family, but the heat from the smoldering fire forced him back to the street. Tears made the scene blurry, and he dashed them away. He’d stand in the street until he could enter his home and find his children.
People continued to file past him, but he stood like the sentinel he was, waiting for the fire to run out of fuel. He could not leave. His children’s bones were inside. And Eleanor’s. He gulped for air. And cried for his loss.
• ♥ •
The licks of flame finally petered out as evening approached, but Patterson would still have to wait until morning for the charred wood to cool enough to enter his burnt-out home and find what remained of his children and Eleanor. Cinders flew through the air, scorching his hair and clothing, and the building still smoldered. There were a few stragglers in the streets, who brushed by Patterson as he stood and waited.
“Yer crazy, man, iffen you think there’s anything left there,” one of the men stopped to catch his breath before moving on. He motioned to the burnt-out building.
“My family is inside. I can’t just leave.” Patterson spoke softly, leaning on his rifle.
“Ah, you poor sod.” The man eyed the building and the others still smoldering. “Groton’s been wiped off the map, for sure. Sorry for your loss.” The man gripped Patterson’s shoulder before moving on.
Why had he been so stubborn as to stay in the heat of the war for all these years? Why hadn’t he taken his children and headed west when Margaret died? Take them out of harm’s way? And why, for God’s sake, hadn’t he sent Eleanor packing the minute she set foot in America? He already blamed himself for Margaret’s death. Now, he had to shoulder the blame for the death of his children and a finely bred British rose. Could he bear the loss?
Tears smarted in his eyes, momentarily making the scene in front of him grow blurry. In the morning, he’d find what was left of his children and Eleanor and bury them. Then, he’d abandon the war. If he no longer had children to fight for, he cared not for the fate of the country.
At dusk, clouds rolled in and rain pelted the scorched buildings and made the remaining fires hiss and die out. Patterson welcomed it, even though it chilled him to the bone. The rain would cool the remains of the city. The remains of his family. He would soon be able to enter the building and tend to his family. He stayed at his post as the clouds rolled on, rubbed his face and his eyes.
“Papa, Papa!” Through his fogged brain, he could hear the voices of his children, and he wept for them. His weary mind was playing tricks on him. “Papa, Papa!” The voices were stronger now. Patterson wiped a hand over his face, clearing away the rain and his tears. His gaze pinged around the area, and he finally landed on the most welcome sight ever. Adam led a horse down the middle of the street, which carried his two youngest. Ben and Caleb followed along behind and Eleanor at the rear of the little band. Patterson gulped for air and ran toward them afraid he was seeing things.
“My God, I thought for sure you hadn’t made it out.” He grabbed his children in a huge hug, running his hands over each one, as if to make certain they weren’t a figment of his imagination. Then, he wrapped his arms around Eleanor. “Thank you for keeping my children out of harm’s way.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her lips, for the first time. “I thought I’d never see you again. That I’d never be able to tell you how much I love you.”
Eleanor’s tears streamed down her sooty face. “When you didn’t show up at the cabin, we all thought the worst, as well.” She touched his face and drew him in for another kiss. “You are a welcome sight. I love you, too.”
Patterson wrapped his arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. “I’ll go through the rubble of our home and see if there’s anything we can salvage. Then, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
Together, Patterson, Adam and Ben sifted through the charred remnants of the house and managed to find a few canned goods that hadn’t exploded in the heat, some water buckets, but little else could be salvaged. They took their meager find and made their way to what was left of the park in the center of town. Patterson filled a bucket with water for the horse and another for their use. T
hey joined other families who had nothing left and took a spot on the ground to sleep.
Darkness closed in as the children settled. Patterson sat near his brood and Eleanor joined him.
“What do we do now, Patterson?”
He again wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close. “I can’t thank you enough for caring for my children.” He kissed her temple and they sat quietly together, her head on his shoulder. “I’m certain the fort is gone now, or if it’s left standing, it’s in the hands of the British. So, the way I see it, we have only two options. We can all flee to England, or we can relocate to Boston.” He glanced at Eleanor before he continued. “Either way, if you’ve tired of living amidst such turmoil, I can put you on a ship back to England, as I promised. Or you can join my family and cast your fate with us.”
She sat up straight. “By joining the family, what exactly do you mean?”
Patterson took his time answering. The words emerged slowly around the lump in his throat. “When Margaret died, I promised myself I would never again place a woman in the same position I’d placed her in. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Patterson’s voice lowered to a whisper.
Eleanor again nodded. “You’re saying you want a marriage without having to fulfill your husbandry duties.” She locked her gaze on him. “Then, I must refuse your offer.”
Patterson lifted his arm from her shoulder. “All right, then. I’ll go to the docks tomorrow and see about passage for you.”
Eleanor gazed out over the scorched grass rather than look directly at Patterson. Her voice was barely above a whisper “Just because I refuse your offer of marriage without intimacy doesn’t mean I wish to return to England. I’m an American now, and wish to stay here.”
Patterson swept his arm over the scene, where smoke still clogged the air. “There is no future for you here, Eleanor.”
“Perhaps not right now, but there will be. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time here, it’s that America is a prize that many good men and women are willing to put their lives on the line for.” Eleanor punched the air with a fist. “I’m one of those good women.”
Despite his desperation, Patterson grinned. “So, you wish to come with my family to Boston?”
“I will come with you, and care for your children, yes. But it’s my wish to add to your brood with the next Biblical name in the alphabet.” Eleanor stared at him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He hung his head for a moment. “I can’t promise you that. But I did not misspeak when I declared my love for you. There are ways we can pleasure each other without putting you in harm’s way, and I’m willing to take you as my wife, if that arrangement will suit. All I can do for now is protect you and keep you safe.” He glanced up at her.
“That will do. For now. We’ll head to Boston and set up a home there. I’ll give you my decision within a month if I will stay with you or go my own way. Sometimes, love is not enough.” Eleanor’s eyes flashed. “But whichever decision I ultimately come to, I will not be going back to England. Understood?”
Patterson stared at her for a long minute. “You’re not the same woman who set foot on these shores a few short months ago.”
Eleanor nodded. “About time you acknowledged that out loud rather than merely through a formula for hand cream. Since coming here, I’ve been an accessory to a murder, kept you from a certain death, and run for my life from the flames. If that doesn’t give a person a backbone, nothing will.”
“I’d say, then, America is a good fit for you. We need women with backbone to tame this country.”
Eleanor settled back beside Patterson. “Aye, that you do. Lordy, I could go for a cup of tea right now.”
Patterson laughed lightly. “You’re still an English lady at heart.”
“I do miss some of the comforts of home. But I rather enjoy being able to make my own decisions. That’s an elixir that can’t be stuffed back into a bottle. Which is what I’d have to do should I return to England.” She put a hand to her forehead. “Despite the harsh life here, I’m not about to give up my freedom.”
Patterson placed an arm around her shoulders. “That’s why we’ve been fighting for years now. To give freedom to my children. To America’s children. You’ll enjoy Boston.”
Could he ever give her what she truly wanted? He loved her. Of that, he was certain. But could he give her the children she so desperately wanted? If he did get her with child, he’d live on the edge of panic for months until she successfully delivered. But would he be satisfied with a love that didn’t include the possibility of more children? He’d have time during their march to Boston to sort it all out. But he feared the journey may not be long enough to provide the answers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
E leanor, Patterson and the children had been hiking for days. For someone who had never left her small town before coming to these shores, she marveled at the vastness of America. She was aware of the land stretching to the west beyond the seaboard, but this part of the country was so pleasing, she had no reason to venture further. She’d leave that to the young children she cared for. She’d be perfectly content to live out the rest of her days clinging to the eastern coast.
They passed through the lovely little town of Providence and rested for a few days before continuing their journey. Adam had the presence of mind to grab the money box from home before they took off running away from the British and their fire, so they had some means of easing their way. In Providence, they were able to stay in a hotel room and at least get their bodies clean, even if they had to don filthy clothes afterwards.
They piled onto the one bed in the room when night fell. Eleanor was on one side, Patterson on the other, with the youngest children between them. Adam and Ben slept on the floor. Before she closed her eyes, Eleanor glanced across the bed and caught Patterson’s gaze. This night was the first time they’d slept together, and it was not at all the way she’d pictured it in her head.
Did he feel the same way?
She had no idea. And right now, it mattered little. He would keep them safe or die in the attempt. Right now, she didn’t need anything more.
The final miles into Boston used up the last of Eleanor’s reserves. She’d been at the helm for so long, and the daily struggle for survival exhausted her. But with Patterson in the lead, and sure of his steps, she willingly gave up all authority to him. They made their way into Boston two weeks after the fires in Groton and New London. Patterson led them straight to Hawk’s blacksmith shop, where the tall, muscular man worked the forge. His focus shifted when they approached. He removed the hot iron from the forge and wrapped his arms around Patterson.
“Mon Dieu, Patterson, you are a sight for sore eyes!” Hawk exclaimed. “We got word about the burning of the fort and the towns and feared you were either a goner or in one of the British prisons.”
Patterson stepped back. “We lost our home, but fortunately, not our lives. Can’t say the same for the rest of Groton.”
He waved a hand through the air in front of the blacksmith. “Children, mind your manners.”
“Hello, Hawk,” the five of them sang out in unison.
“And, may I introduce you to Eleanor, who has been caring for my children.” He nodded in her direction.
Eleanor and Hawk shared a glance. “Hello again, Hawk.”
“Again?” Patterson’s gaze pinged between them.
“Hawk accompanied you home from the battlefield, but you were so far gone, you don’t recall the trip, do you?” Eleanor smiled before she wrapped her arms around Hawk’s waist and hugged him.
“It is good to see you are still on this side of the Atlantic.”
“I am an American now.”
Hawk’s gaze flickered from Eleanor to Patterson and back again. “I see.”
One by one, the children wrapped their little arms around Hawk, and he returned their embrace. When it was Elizabeth’s turn, he lifted her into his arms. “My little ones w
ill enjoy having a playmate with all of you children.” He then glanced at Patterson. “You are welcome to the upstairs, Patterson, for as long as you need it.”
“Thank you, my friend.” He took Elizabeth from Hawk and corralled his tired children up the staircase.
Eleanor stood beside Hawk and kept an eye on the brood making their way up the stairs. “Thank you, Hawk. The children have lived through too much chaos. They’ve witnessed things no child should ever have to see.”
“Hopefully, they will be safe here. And you, my lady? Have you and Patterson finally admitted your feelings for one another? You are the one he could not wait to get back to.” Hawk’s gaze pivoted from the stairs to her.
His words struck a chord and she glanced directly at him. “It wasn’t me he wished to return home to. He loves his children fiercely.”
Hawk slid his gaze over her. “Oui. But he also loves you. It just took him a while to figure it out.”
Eleanor could feel her cheeks burn. She hoped Hawk would blame her heightened color on the nearness of the fire. “If there’s anything I’ve learned since living in America, it is this. Sometimes love is not enough.”
Hawk stood his ground. “Non, Eleanor. You are mistaken. Love is everything.” He returned to his work. “You have to be exhausted. Go on upstairs. I will deliver some food to you shortly.”
As she climbed the steps, she rolled his words over in her mind. She was aware of the depth of the friendship between Hawk and Patterson. And if he thought Patterson was ready for a new wife, she had to hold out hope he was right.
He might indeed love her. But could love without intimacy, without the possibility of having her own children be enough for her?
