"Very well, then." Father caught Gabriel's eye and grinned. "I have rented a chamber in the Shipwright Inn. There you may prepare for the nuptials."
For an instant, May looked so helpless and lost that Gabriel saw only beauty, the color high in her salt-stung cheeks. He searched for words of kindness.
"The nuptials, sir? But this day I have only just arrived."
"Do you have any other plans in mind?" Father's tone made her flinch. Gabriel watched her take a step back. "Do you wish to undo the arrangement I have made with your father? Am I to write the good man with the news that I must send you back?"
Gabriel pushed himself forward. "Don't be so harsh, Father."
May ignored him. It was as though he hadn't spoken.
"Send me back, sir? I hardly think I am a piece of cargo you might return." For all her brave words, she trembled. Father was sizing her up, seeing how far he could push her before she stood her ground. If she displayed weakness, she was done for. Gabriel took his place beside her, ready to step in and defend her. When he considered what she was up against, he could forgive her for being so mighty and proud.
"I merely wish," May continued, "for a chance to accustom myself to your country, sir, before the wedding." Defiance blazed in her eyes.
Father seemed to find her willfulness charming. He smiled, as though to a daughter. "See you the clock on the church tower?"
"She's not blind, Father."
"Shut your mouth, son. I will have no impertinence. Mistress Powers, can you read the time?"
"Nearly noon, sir."
"The wedding shall commence at two o'clock," Father announced, so full of himself that Gabriel wanted to throw a clod of dung at him. "That gives you two hours to make ready."
When she gaped, Father chuckled. "You see, my dear, we colonials must be expedient. There are no churches in the back-country. It must be done today, before we return home. We will not see Anne Arundel Town for another year."
Gabriel wished his father would allow him a few minutes to speak to her on his own before he vowed to spend the rest of his life with her. But neither of them gave him a chance to squeeze in a word.
"But how did you know I would arrive this day?" she demanded. "The ship might have been blown off course."
Father beamed. "I arranged for the wedding to take place the day of your arrival. The minister has grown accustomed to performing the ceremony when the ship sails into port. And ere the ship was sighted in Port Tobacco, messengers traveled up the Bay, spreading the news."
James, Father's favorite servant, approached. "Master Washbrook, all is ready at the inn." His eyes sparked at the sight of May. When he smiled at her, she brightened like the sun breaking out of the clouds. Her eyes went soft and she blushed. Gabriel wondered what it would take to have her look at him that way. If he grew a foot taller, perhaps. Golden and shining, James dwarfed him.
While James bowed to her, Father rocked on his feet. Indeed he, too, loved to look at James and seemed to find it only fitting to see May so dazzled. "James and Gabriel will carry your trunk to the inn. Let me lead the way." He offered May his arm. "Fret not, my dear. I will buy you a cup of wine for courage."
James hefted one end of May's trunk and Gabriel took the other. It was not heavy; he could have carried it without assistance. To think she was an ocean away from her people and that this box held her earthly possessions. He listened to her question Father about the banns.
"I did post them two months ago," Father told her. "All was well prepared."
Gabriel saw her dig in her heels, as if she would not allow Father to drag her one inch closer to the altar. She came to such an abrupt halt that Gabriel bumped into her. In his surprise, he dropped his end of the trunk, which hit the ground with a bang.
"But Master Washbrook," she said to Father, "you cannot force me to marry in such awful haste."
Indeed, Father could not, Gabriel thought. If he and May both refused, Father would be forced to surrender.
"She is right," Gabriel said, but Father stared him down.
"After the many pains I have taken on your account, you defy my will?"
"I would at least have flowers," May said.
Father raised his eyebrows comically. "Flowers, you say."
"Yes, sir." She threw back her head. "A bride must have a bouquet. Such is the custom amongst civilized people."
Gabriel saw James grinning to hear her address his master with such spirit. His own spirits sank when he caught May stealing another glance at James. Father regarded her, his eyes lively and amused. There was nothing lecherous in his gaze, merely the pride of acquisition. Gabriel sensed that Father admired her for putting up a challenge.
"You heard your bride, son. She would have flowers. A charming request, do you not think?"
Gabriel had no idea what to say.
"After you have brought the trunk to her room, you must procure her some flowers." Father laughed at him.
Gabriel had half a mind to tell him to send James on the mission, seeing as he was the one for whom May had the biggest eyes.
***
One look at Gabriel's downcast face filled May with regret. With such a father, it was no wonder he was so shy. If it weren't for fear of backing down in front of Nathan, she would have taken back her request. Where could the boy hope to find flowers, anyway? It was October.
Nathan held out his arm to her again. "Let us be on our way."
Still she refused to budge. "Sir, I would know why the men in the boat did drag that woman till she was nearly drowned. What was her crime?"
He studied her for a moment. "Adultery."
May ducked her head. She felt too weak to resist him anymore. Though she stood on dry land, she felt cold salt water closing over her head. She had to fight just to breathe. Glancing backward, she tried to catch Gabriel's eye, but he was already walking away from them. Shouldering her trunk on his own, he receded into the crowd.
16. The pact
Hannah
1692
GABRIEL'S BODY FIT perfectly to hers as if the Creator had indeed made them each for the other. She pulled him on top of her, opening her legs and arching her hips to receive him. Alone with him on this outpost, Hannah didn't give a care how loudly she cried out. These games of the body were brand new and filled her like wine. They didn't hurt her anymore. Loving was pleasure, pure and simple. It had become as easy as breathing, as dizzying as hunger, as breathless as hard running, as sweet and comforting as apple tansey. Afterward, when he tried to rise from bed, she pulled him down and made him kiss her again. Beyond their bed, the cabin slowly filled with morning light.
"I must be at my work," he whispered, stroking her body. For the cold months, they had moved from the bed of furs to his father's old bedstead. When it was drafty, they could close the curtains.
Outside, Gabriel's dogs barked and howled, anxious for their master to feed them.
"The goats want milking," he told her.
"Stay just a while longer." She lay on top of him, pinning him to the bed. "It's so warm here."
He kissed her until she reluctantly released him. They dressed quickly, their teeth clenched against the cold.
Hannah crouched at the hearth and nursed a spark from the previous night's embers. Piling kindling and logs, she built the fire while Gabriel went out to milk the goats and feed the dogs. When he returned with the milk, Hannah cooked corn mush porridge.
"I should check the traps today," he said. "To do the skinning and salting by daylight, I must set off early."
Before he left, he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face to his. "While I am gone, be sure not to go crossing the creek."
She laughed. "What reason would I have to go there? Do you think I would meddle with your traps?"
He didn't smile. "There is danger in those woods. I know where the traps are, but you would not spot them until it was too late." He showed her the bear trap he had oiled the night before. He possessed two bear traps. One alrea
dy lay hidden in the forest. "Now it is closed and no peril to you, but mark you how heavy it is." When he gave it to her, Hannah needed both hands to hold it. "Look how sharp the teeth are. Its jaws are powerful enough to bring down a bear, Hannah. Think how easily it could snap your leg in two." He looked as stern as Father when he used to tell her not to play in the field where the farmer kept the bull.
"Gabriel, I am no reckless child." She kissed him and handed him the trap. "I know well enough to keep myself from harm."
He put the trap in his leather satchel. "Mayhap tonight there will be bear meat." He had told her that the best time to trap bears was late autumn, when they were at their glossiest and fattest, just before they retreated into their caves for their winter-long sleep.
"More meat than we can eat, even after I make sausages," she said. "Have we enough salt to preserve it all?"
"The dogs will eat the excess. But finally we will have more bear grease." The jar in the pantry was nearly empty. He kissed her again before putting on his heavy wolfskin coat and walking out the door.
***
With him gone, thoughts of May crowded her head. Do I betray her? Putting on her cloak, Hannah took the empty water bucket and let herself out. Her new moccasins fit her feet like velvet slippers. Do I betray her, or do I become her? So comfortably shod, she had a new way of walking, hips swinging, head held high—the way May used to walk. She needed no mirror to tell her that she had grown beautiful these past weeks. She saw it in the way Gabriel looked at her, his eyes drinking her in, his hands moving over her body. At last she had plumbed the body's mysteries. "Love." She said the word aloud. These days she left her hair loose and uncovered, the way he liked her best. The red bird with the tufted head hopped from branch to branch. His song was of aching sweetness. To think that such a bird would linger so late in the year, instead of flying south like the rest.
When she reached the creek, she studied her reflection in the black water. You are the plain sister no longer. This was the face that Gabriel loved. Do I betray her? The most confounding thing was that it was only after she had usurped May's place that she thought she finally understood her and the secret delight that had moved her from man to man. Except Hannah couldn't imagine any man but Gabriel. Now that she had found such joy with him, how could she possibly forsake him for another?
She looked out across the creek into the wild forest. If she chose to, she could cross the water easily, leaping across the narrow stream to the opposite bank, disobeying Gabriel's warning. He had told her that the strip of land between the creek and the river was protected, his dogs keeping the wild beasts at bay. The Indians would not think to come there. But across the creek in the wild woods, everything was different. About a mile from the creek was the path the Indians traveled when they went from north to south. Closer to the creek, Gabriel's traps lay hidden.
At this time, he would be wending his way from trap to trap. His dogs ran ahead, barking if an animal was caught in the iron jaws. Gabriel would drag the dead wolves, foxes, rabbits, and bobcats home on his sledge. If he was lucky enough to find a bear, he would skin it in the forest, then cut the body into pieces. He would load as much as he could on the sledge. Some of the meat he would feed to the dogs. The rest he would string up and hang over a high tree branch, out of the way of wolves and foxes, until he could come back for it. The crisp weather would preserve the meat.
"This is our wealth," he told her each time he brought an animal home to skin. "This is our fortune." If there was no more tobacco, then they were blessed with an abundance of fur and meat. Gabriel could sell or trade the furs for salt, sugar, lye, and nails. Beaver fur was especially prized. He piled the skins in the attic, which Hannah had swept and dusted. Gabriel said the forest would always support them.
When she filled her bucket, she wondered what the date was. She didn't even know if Christmas had come. It seemed a little sad to let the holidays slip by without celebration. She could ask Gabriel to slaughter one of the hogs so she could make a Christmas ham with apples. She could decorate the house with pine boughs and find some gift to give him. They could sing carols. Every day with him had seemed like Christmas. To think she had lost her sister, only to gain such happiness. Had her heart ever been fuller? The bucket handle bit into her hand as she lugged it back to the house. At the very least, she could have mourned a year, as was fitting, before throwing herself at May's widower. But May had known desire more than anyone. May would forgive.
The red bird sang in the branches above her head. The male was crimson as blood in the snow, and his mate was muted green, like a walnut before it ripened. Gabriel had told her they were called cardinals. In England she had never seen them. May would have wanted us joined together. Like the two birds, male and female. A spinster's life was unnatural, against the will of God. Every creature in nature strove toward its mate. She loved me and would not want me to be lonely.
How she wished he would come back now, this instant, and take her in his arms. How she craved him when he was gone, and what an appetite she had for his body, so slender and muscled. Now that her desire had been awoken, she would never be able to extinguish it. Yes, I am her sister. This hunger flows in our blood. Next time she would ask to join Gabriel when he checked the traps. She could help him. She would shoulder the rabbits and foxes while he dragged home the bear. She pictured the animals in their traps, the frozen stare of their lifeless eyes.
My sister is dead and I have never felt more alive. If Joan were here, would she call her a strumpet and a traitor? Would she slap her face for what she had done? Would Father look at her sadly, then turn away? Her heart hardened. May had had her chance with so many men. Hannah remembered the innkeeper's son and how cruelly her sister had spurned him, humiliating him in front of his brother and the whole harvest fair, on account of some tinker she never saw again. Happiness with one man hadn't been good enough for May.
At the sound of barking, Hannah looked out the window to see Gabriel dragging the sledge, laden with fur and chunks of raw flesh. Yes, he had trapped a bear.
Hannah worked beside him, as dedicated and unflinching as she had been in the old days with Father. They hung the sides of meat from a pole in the chimney to smoke. She boiled water and cleaned out the bear's intestines to make sausage. She ran the meat through the grinder with spices from the spice cupboard, dried herbs, salt, and cornmeal. While roasting a big chunk of bear meat, she salted down the rest of the meat in a barrel. Gabriel collected the fat in a special pot to make his bear grease. They worked long after sunset.
Gabriel caught her eye and grinned. "What a rude plenty we enjoy, Hannah."
***
Later, when they lay in bed, bellies full and bodies tired, Hannah bit gently into his flesh as though she were still hungry. Beside the bed, the candle still burned, allowing her to look into his eyes. Laughing, he put his finger in her mouth, then smoothed her red hair over her breasts. Out of nowhere, she found herself fighting the urge to cry. She wriggled away and pulled the bedclothes to her chest.
"What is it?" He touched her face.
"It seems strange to live with you in this house where once you lived with May, and yet you never speak of her."
He collapsed, flat on the bed, and was silent.
"You do not grieve for her as I do."
"What would you have me say, Hannah? I am not happy that she died. I mourned her passing, as I did my father's passing and the child's, but I cannot pretend that I cared for her the way I care for you."
Resting her head on his chest, she listened to his heart pound against her ear. "Was she untrue to you?" she asked in a small voice. "Is that why you will not speak of her?"
His body went rigid. "Would you have me speak ill of the dead, Hannah?"
"Back in our village." Her throat was so dry and tight, it hurt to get the words out. "She flew from one boy to the next. She was never true to anyone." Her voice broke. "I loved her well, but always pitied those boys."
"Is it true
what you say? When I married her, I knew she was no maid, but I never suspected she had been so faithless to so many."
"She treated every boy the same. She could never love just one man." Hannah rolled away. "I have betrayed her."
He pulled her gently so that she faced him again. His eyes were moist, as though a terrible weight had been lifted off him. "Speaking the truth is no betrayal. You have done no wrong, my love. Before you told me this, I thought it was something in me that made her so capricious. My father used to say I wasn't man enough for her."
Her heart beat so fast that she was giddy. It lay revealed. Gabriel had never loved May. But he loved her.
"If I had been a good sister, I would never have lost my heart to you." She broke down in tears.
He embraced her. "Hannah, your sister and I did not choose each other. Never were two people more badly suited. Now you understand why I did not wish to talk about her. I know how you cherished her, and I did not want to say anything that would bring you sadness." His eyes, shining with love, fathomed hers.
She kissed him in wanton hunger, could not stop herself from tasting his flesh. He rolled on top of her, holding her in place.
"There is a pact I would make with you, Hannah." His face was so close that she could see herself reflected in his eyes. "Let us speak no more of her. It only brings pain to sully the memory of the dead."
Hannah nodded, a prickle of guilty relief running through her. Dwelling on May's past sins would benefit no one.
"Sweet girl." Gabriel kissed her until she pulled him fiercely inside her. Just this one thing I want, now and forever. How could May have squandered this on so many? He was right to make her swear the pact. Let her sister's name remain unspoken. Let her dead sister rest in peace.
17. Shadow Catcher
Adele
October 5, 1689
BROOM IN HAND, Adele Desvarieux stepped out on the porch and looked toward the river. Though trees blocked her view, she could hear the current, the promise of what the water would bring. Today Master Washbrook and his son were due back with the new English bride.
The Vanishing Point Page 14
