“Focus, please?” Emeline cut in, exasperated. She rested her head in her hands, elbows on the table. Her mind was spinning and she felt like she couldn’t take a deep breath in her tight dress. How in the world did I get here, she wondered? At least I am warm right now.
“Right! I like you girl. You learn quick and no cursing.”
“Does it get me anywhere by arguing with you?”
“It got you to Boston,” Eve said shortly, “but no. You are here now.”
“I’m not going home when I serve my purpose you keep blathering on about?” Emeline asked quickly, glancing up in shock. Ever?
“Do you have much waiting for you there? Fishes, dead end job, debt? Titmouse, your body is currently chumming the ocean water. So, I wouldn’t want to be placed back inside of it any time soon. Shark Week is going to be on T.V. soon, if you get my drift Get it? Drifting in the ocean? Another pun! Love them!”
“Oh, I got it all right,” she said dismally, thinking of the bills and stress of her job. She had nothing going on back home and she had been so miserable that she was planning to turn her life completely upside down regardless. Perhaps, it was going to be easier to be able for her to cope with the changes if she could blame it on Eve. Dealing with the idea of death waiting for her sounded terrible. “Tell me more about how this all works. Because honestly, being dropped in war-torn colonial America doesn’t sound much more appealing.”
“You are an… inspiration. Yes, yes. Let’s describe you as an inspirational piece. You know what it’s like to be free and the whole back story of the American Revolution, right?”
“I know some of it,” she muttered, putting her head back down in her hands as she tried to wrap her mind around what was going on. Maybe she was in a padded room somewhere hugging herself in a white, teeny jacket with buckles. Perhaps if she woke up, they’d give her some really strong happy pills.
“No! Now stop that and pay attention, you drama queen! Sheesh! This is your big chance!” Eve admonished. “It’s just the important things you need to know right now. The cliff notes, my little titmouse.”
“Can you quit calling me names?” she asked with a heavy sigh. This whole situation was a bit much to take in, honestly, and the jabs at her tiny chest size were not necessary in the slightest. It kept distracting and irritating her. It was hard enough to focus on the odd woman without Eve throwing in an insult to get her ire up.
“It’s an endearment,” Eve said gently, softening her tone. “I promise. An endearment and a small boob joke all rolled into one! How could I not love the nickname? It so suits you, my titmouse,” she repeated with a smile.
“Back to the past? Am I the professor or Marty? Do I get a shiny car with this fiasco?” she asked sarcastically, referencing the 80s movie.
“Right. So yes, inspiration. No, no car. You are to be married to the hottest carpenter in town, although he is a bit of a stuck-up twig. Or is it Whig? Wasn’t that a political party? Oh, maybe he wears a wig? Where’s my book at now?” she wondered out loud, confused, patting her skirts randomly in order to search her pockets.
“Great, he sounds dreamy,” Emeline replied sarcastically. She wasn’t sure how this was going to work out, but going home was not an option anymore. Perhaps, if he was awful, she could simply hightail it to the next town and fake a different name. Did they divorce each other in this time period? Problem was that she had no idea what Eve’s definition of what “dreamy” was. “Dreamy, huh? Tell me how ‘dreamy’ this guy is.”
“He’s quite so,” Eve confirmed. “But he’s very uptight. He ought to warm right up to you. But if not, that is how it normally happens. One look or one touch, and boom! You’ll have to be on your best behavior. He won’t be the powdered prude you are picturing right now in your mind. I think you’ll be a shock to his system and you’ll be pleasantly surprised by your boy-toy.”
“Does he even know I am here?”
“He’s been told that his intended is arriving soon and that she comes with a nice dowry.”
“Two problems, right there,” Emeline cut in, startled. She held up her hand in protest. “One, no dowry. I have nothing anymore, just what is on me. Two, just how soon are we talking?”
“Like, today, and your dowry was already taken to him. I got him some Stanley tools. I got the good stuff with the grip handles. Not the cheap sets, you know? If you are going to do this, you do it right! Everyone loves grippies! It’s a great deal for your carpenter.”
“Really? You got him a tool box in exchange for my hand in marriage? And he took it? How insulting. What were they? Sixty bucks?” Emeline asked, rolling her eyes.
“They were really nice tools. And for a person in 1770, he thought it was the shiznit,” Eve enunciated, catching Emeline’s sharp glance. “No, I’m not a hypocrite. I do like that word: shiznit. It sounds bad but it’s not. So, it’s not technically cursing. That word, and butter beans. Hate the taste, but love to use it instead of the foul language. It just works so much better,” Eve said happily with an encouraging smile. “You are welcome to use either of them.”
“Are you kidding me? Is this an effin’ joke? I appreciate the kind offer, but what if I refuse to marry some stranger or use your pretend curse word? Butter beans, puh-lease!”
Eve suddenly lurched off the bench knocking it behind her on the floor with an eerie thump. She seemed to grow larger than life, expanding exponentially with a mysterious, black cloud around her that came from nowhere. Her black hair that was coiffed on her head flew out in an explosion of tendrils that seemed to reach for Emeline. A faint rumbling echoed in her ears that sounded distinctly like a growl.
Backing away, she stared at the menacing transformation happening in front of her. The woman melted away and in her place was something you’d imagine from Poltergeist. Eve’s eyes were black pits and the snarl on her face was ungodly. Seeing the unholy vision, Emeline felt like her mind was ready to snap at the reveal. She felt as if seeing the sight was too much for her psyche. Pain, combined with the scent and sting of saltwater, burned at Emeline’s chest and nose. As she began to choke and gargle, she stared horrified at the apparition.
As quickly as it flew towards her, she watched Eve draw herself back into the small, womanly form sitting primly across the table. Her hair curling upwards and positioning itself on top of her head like an imaginary hairdresser, she was placing pins in the proper place.
“You, my little titmouse,” she enunciated firmly with a cold smile as if nothing abnormal had happened. She patted her hair gingerly and delicately touched up her lip gloss. “You will always have a choice, my dear. You can return to your time in your little neon bikini or you can give 1770 a ‘go’ and see what you think of being your ‘carpenter’s dream’.”
“More boob jokes?” she asked and then slapped her hands over her runaway mouth. Emeline stared wide eyed at Eve trying to determine who or what she was. Was she a demon? That little scene had her pretty darned freaked out and scared to be in the room with her.
“Be respectful. Not scared. I am here for you, but you have to be amenable to the opportunity you have been given. Not rude or ungrateful like you have been so far,” Eve cut in. “I told you, I had plenty of jokes. Emeline, be a little flexible and give this a chance. Tackiness doesn’t suit your personality. Remember, this is a gift from above.”
“Sounds like I will be living the dream in good ol’ 1770 colonial America,” she replied with faked enthusiasm in a falsetto voice. Emeline gave two thumbs up as she swallowed hard, still tasting saltwater. “Yippy skippy,” she said flatly. “Let’s go.”
“That’s my girl,” Eve said smugly.
Chapter 3
“Order! Order!” William Spencer heard shouted outside of his storefront. He spent hours on end trying to focus on creating and building beautiful, functional pieces of furniture that appealed to the eye. Each piece was carved with a lion’s foot or a crown simply to show he was loyal.
Boston had been a growing city
before they came. The infernal British soldiers that bullied the people left and right. He had to make sure that his cabinets and other furniture pieces were presented as harmless to the Crown if ever inspected or questioned.
There would be enough eyebrows raised, and potentially a rope to stretch his neck, if they found the stash of gunstocks he was making on the sly. The people of town wanted to arm themselves and were afraid.
Hell, he was concerned!
He prayed every night that when the time was right he would be strong enough to fight for what was in his heart. A righteous cause would always prevail! He was strong, honorable and willing to fight. That much, he felt he could give back to the city. He knew that his friend down the road was considering opening a mill to produce gunpowder. Paul was a calm man with a deep sense of honor. He didn’t back down from a fight, but also would not provoke it. Sam had asked him to make the wooden rifle stocks and he felt honored after sitting in for many a discussion on the wrongs that were being levied against his fellow Bostonians. The next batch of rifle stocks would be ready to pick up under the cover of darkness anytime during the next several days.
Boston was alive with hatred between the colonists and the soldiers. They had arrived to put down any disrespect or perceived disloyalty towards king and country. These soldiers were everywhere, it seemed. In the streets, in the taverns, and inspecting homes harassing the populace. It was irritating to say the least! William wasn’t a “rebel” per se, but with a strong feeling for what is right, it could certainly be taken that he was. They were supposed to be British citizens and loyal to the king.
There was no cause before to lash out at the people or to be cruel. Troops were given free rein to invade homes, search businesses. This was simply inciting anger, giving the colonists a reason to arm themselves or smuggle in goods. The taxes that were imposed on tea coming into the colonies were disheartening, making it nearly impossible to purchase it through the right channels! Hence the smuggling and the searches. The soldiers knew it and were trying to catch people at every turn. One of the leaders in town, a profitable merchant known as John Hancock had his ships seized under the allegation that he was smuggling. The charges were dropped, but the memory would not fade. They had tried to take down one of their own, a fellow citizen, for trying to run his business. That is when Sam had turned to him, asking him to aid in arming the city.
Lost in thought, William heard the scuffle coming closer and closer to his storefront. Carefully, he hid the wooden rifle stock behind his legs as he backed away from the doorway. Crouching down, he pulled back the rag rug and yanked up the loose floorboards. He slipped it inside quickly, nestled among dozens of others. He was certain he would hang as a traitor if they found him aiding the uprising.
Being hung before his new bride arrived would be quite the irony. He hadn’t been expecting one, yet William had felt compelled to accept when the unexpected offer was made. It was as if his heart had lurched forward with the announcement that he would marry when the strange woman appeared at his door a week ago. She claimed to be waiting on the arrival of someone special, someone he couldn’t do without. It seemed an odd description. However, the dowry she’d presented had been worth it.
He had never seen woodcarving tools like the ones she’d placed in front of him. Massive scrapers, awls, planes and chisels of the strangest metal he had ever seen. Recognizing their value, he examined them carefully, trying to determine what they were made from. Each handle had a weird texture that seemed to hold fast as he tested one on a random block of wood. They also had strange, orange markings on them. Fascinating! The tools had tempted him beyond belief. But just when he was getting ready to turn the dark-haired woman away, she had looked him square in the eye as if she was reaching into his mind and said the words that shook him to the core.
“Emeline is special. She needs you. The people here need help. You are righteous. She will need your protection. Let her give you a reason to fight,” she said quietly, staring at him. Her dark eyes burned with a deep fire that gave him a chill. She leaned over the counter, not breaking eye contact as she placed a few gold coins on the black box that held the tools as if to sweeten the deal.
He stared at her, his heart racing. It was as if she had sifted through his mind, shocking him at the intrusion. She knew he was aiding the rebels! And as quickly as she spoke, the woman backed away with a knowing smile. “You need a wife and it’s high time you took one. Samuel Adams said you’d protect her.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend,” Eve answered simply. “I will bring Emeline to you soon for the handfasting. Isn’t that what you do nowadays? Common law, a church wedding, handfasting? Whatever,” she waved her hand. “Think about it, take your time. You’ll do the right thing when needed and when you meet her. I have no doubts.”
The strange woman’s words echoed in his mind for days on end. William was constantly looking over his shoulder expecting the eerie, dark-haired woman to suddenly appear again. This time with another female in tow. He knew that people married all the time for different reasons. To continue the family line, for love, to keep warm in the winter – or at least that is what his father had once claimed with an affectionate smile to his mother. It seemed more important to learn his trade, become independent and establish himself in the community rather than marry quickly. Now, he hated to endanger a young lady by his actions. The dowry she gave him was amazing, her offer to have a woman warm his bed tempting, but now was not the right time. He would return the tools and gold when he saw her again.
Cramming as many rifle stocks as he could in the floorboard of his home, he awaited the arrival of the dark-haired woman… or the British, if she betrayed him – or even the arrival of Sam Adams so the man could pick up the weapons and get them away from his home. It made him antsy to hear the soldiers in the streets. It was getting dark out and he knew that if Sam did come, it would be at night where their acts would be hidden from prying eyes.
As if by magic, William heard a faint rapping at the side door of his home that was also his workshop. Opening the door, he saw Sam’s broad grin as his friend stepped inside.
“I thought you were never coming,” William whispered quietly as he shut the door.
“I had to wait until the soldiers were gone,” Sam answered tartly. “Can really load guns without it raising any questions, now can I?”
“True” he admitted, relieved. They clapped each other on the back good-naturedly. “The sooner these are out of my home, the better I shall feel. Damned lobsterbacks! I wish they’d leave. They’ve been up and down the street all day long.”
“You don’t say?”
“Aye, and its wearing on my nerves.”
“You do look a bit frazzled.”
“I am,” he admitted. “It’s been a very odd week, my friend.”
Just then, the two men heard a knock at the door. Looking at each other, William watched Sam pull a flintlock from his pants. Holding the gun up towards his face, he motioned towards William to open the door as he backed against the wall of the house. Slowly opening the door, he saw the odd, dark-haired woman outside with another woman garbed in a demure dress.
“Surprise! Is now a bad time?” Eve asked with a bright, knowing smile.
Shocked by her appearance, it took Will a full moment to answer. He stared dumfounded at the bad timing that their arrival was. He had been told to expect her return, but never assumed it would be just at the most inopportune moment. “Actually, yes, it is.”
“Well, your bride will need a roof over her head and it’s cold out here,” Eve announced point blank. “Don’t stare at me, young man. I gave you plenty of notice that I was bringing her. It’s not our problem if you aren’t prepared. You would not want the Redcoats to investigate why two women are alone out here in the dark, would you?”
The tall woman that stood behind Eve in the darkness barely moved, but her voice was sweet and clear, with the strangest accent. “I won’t be taking charit
y from a man that doesn’t want me. I have been on my own before. This is nothing new, Eve. Let’s go.”
As she spoke, he heard the patrol coming. “Now is not the time to discuss this, ladies.”
“I think it’s the perfect time,” Eve countered slyly, staring at him in a silent challenge. “Did you want to invite us in or shall we leave? Have you made up your mind yet, William?”
“I think, perhaps, you need to come in where you can quit drawing attention,” William whispered and reached out the door to take Eve’s hand. Surprisingly, she would not accept his hand, but stood there smiling with a satisfied smile.
“I like that,” she said, seemingly amused. “Offering to help a lady is a sweet touch nowadays. You rarely find that in a man back home. Am I correct, Emeline?”
“Both of you, be silent,” Sam ordered and leaned forward, “Ladies? If you will be so kind?”
Eve stepped inside the house, followed by Emeline. It was odd seeing a house with no adornments on the exterior, or at least what she could tell in the darkness. The homes of Boston were simply flat and basic in design but, then again, so were the clothes. They were created for function and they did just that.
The house looked quite unassuming from the outside in the darkness but once she stepped inside, it truly revealed itself. Warm glows from the lamps around the room illuminated scrollwork carved in the door frame. The scent of beeswax, fresh cut wood and smoke made her feel downright cozy. The scents welcomed her, like she had just stepped inside a candle store in a mall. The house was clean, save the wood shavings that were scattered underneath a large table giving it the delicious, earthy smell. Several timeless, handcrafted rocking chairs were in the corner as well as several other pieces of furniture. The detail in the work was evident. Each piece seemed to have delicate carvings all over them or were in the process of being decorated.
Emeline pulled off the bonnet that Eve had instructed her to tie onto her head and breathed a sigh of relief at the warm heat emanating from the fireplace. She had not been able to warm up since her stint in the ocean, and she particularly felt like that was Eve’s fault. Being close to death felt so cold. Frankly, if she was honest with herself, she had actually died. Now, she felt alive, but colder than she had ever been. It was darned chilly outside and the wind seemed to cut right through the abundant materials layered in her dress.
Handfasted to You Page 3
