by Smith, Skye
Jemmy's eyes widened. "Oh Britta, they didn't, not to you. Oh, tell me it isn't so."
"No, but they could have, and it's done all the time."
Jemmy sighed in relief and tried to change topics. "By the way, Jim, the reason the governor moved to the fort is because he did not want to be an easy target if he uses force to shut down our committees. So that is his next move. He has already said as much in a speech. He says that we have created a Shadow Government which is a rebellion against the Parliament of the Empire."
"But you can understand why the governor is upset," Britta beat Jim to a reply. "Your committees are just organized spies. He is surrounded by spies. John Brown had many spies in Rhode Island. I met some of them. They gave me the creepy crawlies."
"Spies or not, the committees keep us united and informed against the Governor's corruption. And the spying is recent. Originally they were set up to encourage people not to buy Company goods, for if no one buys Company goods then both the Company and Parliament must take our demand for the Bill of Rights seriously."
"So why just the Company goods. Why not all imported goods." Britta looked at Jemmy and his silence said everything. "Oh I see. The smugglers. You have been bribed by the smugglers." Britta went scarlet with anger and stomped away to take their cups to the galley, where she began punishing the dirty dishes. There were sounds of china breaking.
"I have angered her, I am sorry," apologized Jemmy.
"Please understand, dad." Jim looked nervously at the men over by the window and lowered his voice. "She has nightmares about John Brown finding them. She thinks that smugglers and slavers are connected through your committees, and eventually Brown will be told where to find them."
"Jim, there is a good reason that Sam rented the room here. Have you not noticed that since we rented this space, we have stopped having any meetings at the Freemason's Arms. We are distancing ourselves from the St. Andrews masons for the very reason that so many of them are smugglers and slavers. Please tell her that."
"You mean that you are no longer allied to the enemy of your enemy?" asked Jim.
"When it comes to taxes and local rule, the Masons stand with us against the governor. When it comes to a Bill of Rights, they stand against us."
"I will try to explain that to her."
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith
Chapter 8 - The Austrian Ball
"I'll be gone overnight, Nana, staying with Mary," said Maya as she stuffed a silk nightie into her day pack. "I just want to make sure that she is okay."
"See if the supermarket Deli has any spanekopeta, oh and some lamb's liver," Nana called after her. She totally understood that Maya needed the company of someone her own age. Living with an old woman and through the memories of a dead woman was putting an increasingly obvious strain on her great grand daughter's sanity.
Maya took the runabout over to the village, and had a coffee with Mary at the cafe. Mary and Bret's parents were due back from Florida in a couple of days, so it was now or never. She told Mary this, and won a beaming smile and a thank you.
She borrowed the minivan and drove to Mary's folks place to pick up Bret. He was still asleep despite it being almost noon. Typical of gamer nerds, he was starting to keep Goth hours downstairs in his man cave. She made him some eggs on toast while he cleaned up and dressed.
He complained when they drove passed the village barber shop, and parked in front of the beauty parlor. Maya stared him down and said, "If I'm paying for your haircut, then I choose, okay." It all worked out okay. He enjoyed being pampered by the hairdresser, rather than listening to the red neck belly aching at the barber's.
Once finished the hairdresser swung his chair so he could see himself in both mirrors. "The barber specializes in brush cuts, that's why I haven't been going to him. Wow, like, this is so 70's," he said as he looked at the effect.
"Yeh, 1770's" thought Maya. It was the same way that Jim's sister cut his hair.
It took them four different stops at men's stores to find pant and shirts for him in a blend of polyester and cotton. The sales staff all looked at Maya like she had two heads when she absolutely refused 100% cotton. "Look," she would say, "I've backpacked all over the world and 100% cotton is 100% useless unless you carry a clothes dryer along with you." and then walk out.
Eventually they found some good blends in a thrift store. With Bret now looking very GQ they took a walk through the local park just to talk and be together. "You look good, Bret, quite handsome," she flattered. Actually it wasn't flattery because he looked quite dishy.
"Thanks," he mumbled, blushing. "And thanks for the clothes and everything. That's really nice of you."
"Well I had an ulterior motive. Like, I'm having all these horny dreams about this Jim guy who is like, way not available to me, and I was wondering if you would, ugh, you know, like to fool around a bit." She looked at Bret. He was blushing and looked like he was going to faint. "I mean, only if you want to, but first you have to promise me that this will be just a one night stand."
"But," Bret searched into the depths of her enchanted eyes. "But I can't promise that. I dream about you. I adore you. I worship you."
"Bah, puppy love. Grow up Bret. Do you want to trade puppy love for a one night stand, or do I go back to the island?" She knew it was an unfair question. How could he say no.
"Rather for one night than never," Bret took her in his arms clumsily and gave her a crushing hug and smeared his lips over hers. It was pretty bad, and she pushed herself away. "Oh, sorry," he apologized. "It's pretty public here. Do you want to park somewhere in the minivan?"
"Ugh, like, Bret, the first thing you need to know about making out with girls is that they don't like making out in parked cars, or in tents, or in nerd caves. What they want is a clean room with a lock and an attached bathroom."
"Sorry," he said, looking suddenly like a beaten dog.
"That Best Eastern Motel over there has nice rooms. Why don't we get one?"
"But, but, I know most of the girls who work there."
"Perfect," she said pulling him along by both hands to get him walking, and then hooking her arm into his to steer him towards the motel.
The girl behind the desk welcomed them and then, with a start, recognized the cleaned up Bret. "Hi Bret. What's happening?" she asked with open and innocent curiosity.
"Hi Tara," Bret blushed. Even his ears went red. "umm."
"A room please," Maya interrupted the pregnant silence, "two people, one bed, no pets, no smoking."
Tara cleared her throat, lost her innocent tone and became businesslike as she looked at her computer. "The mid week off season rate on a room with a queen bed is $59. Will that do?"
Below desk level, Maya passed some crumpled up twenties into Bret's hands so he could pay. "Great. We are Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Pay the girl, darling."
Tara created two key cards for their room, but as she was passing them to Mr. and Mrs. Smith, she pulled them back, clicked a bit on her computer and then reswiped the key cards. "Room three oh three. Top of the stairs and to the right." She smiled as Mr. Smith helped himself to a complimentary tooth brush kit, and then picked up Mrs. Smith's tiny overnight case and led the comely blonde towards the stairs.
"There must be some mistake," said Bret as he led Maya into the room. "This isn't a room with a queen bed." Indeed it wasn't. It was a spa suite, with a king bed and a spa tub set into an alcove of mirrors over in the corner. "I'll go and tell Tara."
"Oh, I think Tara knows. She must like you," giggled Maya as she shut the door.
"She's Mary's friend," he mumbled walking over to look at the spa alcove and to check his new look out in the wrap around mirrors.
"If you take your shoes and socks off and stand in the empty tub, I will undress you in front of the mirrors." She grinned at the size of his grin. "One favor. If I call you Jim by mistake, don't correct me, and don't let it put you off. Oh, and
call me Britta instead of Maya."
She reached up to her hair and started making a loose French braid, like Britta often wore. Why did she feel like the naughtiest of cougars. He was only two years younger than her, in age that is, not in life.
After kicking off her sandals, she stepped up and into the tub to join him and they held each other close and slowly turned around peeking in the mirrors to see if they could see infinity. Not quite. On a thought she released him and grabbed her elbows, which was the method she used to pull her aura back out of her hands and put it to sleep deep inside of her. An annoying side effect of her aura was that it made men quickly horny, and then made horny men come too quickly, like, way too quickly.
* * * * *
Maya looked at the clock on the bedside table. Just before ten at night. Six hours it had taken her to wear Bret out. Well, that and to show him how to coax a woman into bliss, umm, a couple of times. Well, three. She giggled to herself. Thank goodness she had bought the big box of condoms at the drug store. She giggled again. Thank goodness they had started off in the spa alcove, because his first prematures had been very messy. She would have to remember to wipe the mirrors clean, like from the hand prints she left on them all those times that she used them to brace herself while leaning forward with her legs straight and her back arched.
He was now in a deep sleep spooned around her back, so she could be selfish and drift into a Britta dream, with him playing the Jim part. Hopefully now she would see beyond Britta's infatuated love for Jim, and be able to take notice of what was going on all around her in the Anchor Coffee Shoppe.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Britta, carrying a tray of steaming cups of mostly coffee, paused beside the stove to warm herself. It was a chilly day in early December and still Jon hadn't returned from the farm. The shop was quite full with men here to discuss Whig issues with Sam and Jemmy. They all read newspapers voraciously while they waited, but would leave them behind for others to read. Single old men who lived hereabouts, would rather spend their coin on a coffee and a free newspaper in the warmth of the shop, than spend the coin on the newspaper itself and then read it in their small cold rooms.
A week ago a lonely old seaman had left his set of Damas in the shop for other's to use. It was a game that needed two to play so it made sense for him to leave it where it would be played. The playing board was painted into four and sixty squares, eight wide and eight deep, and the squares alternated black and white. Men were gathered around watching two men play, while keeping warm, and listening to discussions about the news.
Britta saw Jim outside the front window and set down her full tray of cups on the closest table, so that her arms would be free to wrap around him when he came in the door. First through the door, however, was his aunt, Mercy Warren. Britta wrapped her arms around her instead. "On your way to the market?" she asked.
"No, actually, I am on the way to the music hall to help plan the Christmas Ball. Of course, it won't be called a Christmas Ball. The Puritans don't allow any celebrating at Christmas. To them such celebrations are pagan and tempt folk away from prayer and fasting which is proper at Christmas. I think we will call it the Austrian Ball because we have the music students all practicing to play waltzes."
She looked over Britta's head and saw Lydia and waved to get her notice. "I bought some coca leaves, and prepared it as they instructed me where I bought them, but it was dreadful. Bitter and acrid. I wonder if you could show me how you prepare it."
Lydia guided her into the galley while Britta dashed off to hang herself around Jim's neck. "The secret is to add Jamaica flowers, ground rose hips, and powdered Guinea spice. You can buy those at the same shop. They add a sweet and sour flavor to the taste, and a burn afterwards. The tartness of Jamaica and rose hips is very good for colds and sore throats, but also calms a fevered mind. The Guinea pepper gives a warm flush to get one's blood flowing, and takes away headaches."
Mercy, of course, left the shop late for her meeting at the music hall because she knew so many of the customers by name and reputation, and she could not resist all the talk of politics. Jim was her driver today, and between taking her to the meeting, and taking her shopping, and then taking her home, it was dark before Britta had him to herself. She hurried through the rest of her chores and then led him upstairs on the excuse of putting Robby to bed.
Lydia had not the heart to send Jim back downstairs to sleep, as was proper. In fact, she did not disturb them at all, but just put herself to bed. It took a long time for Lydia to fall asleep. There were too many giggles and moans coming from Britta's room.
She heard Robby bashing something in his crib so she reached over and took him into her bed for a cuddle. With Jim and Britta exploring each other's bodies on the other side of the thin wall, she suddenly felt very lonely. Perhaps she did need a husband. No, she refused to think that way. All she really needed was to be bedded by a man. That would restore her perspective. After all, she couldn't get any more pregnant.
Instead of counting sheep, she counted all the men that came to her shop. Some were rich, some were handsome, and most were well mannered. No, she could not bed any of them, for that would risk her reputation. Who then?
* * * * *
Five days later, Jon finally arrived back from his errand to the farm, well past due, but fit and healthy.
"Red was in New York when I arrived," he explained, "so I had to wait for him to return. There are only four women left. The ones past their prime breeding age, but with their children, though only six of them, all older and only two of them boys. Oh, and the two older boys still being trained in Sabin's Tavern in Providence"
"It is so unfair. I mean unfair to my Blacks, to be sold and sent away from their home. I should have stayed on the farm to protect them from that bloody trustee." complained Lydia.
"Do not blame it all on the trustee. Apparently the sale was already in the works between Robert and some Rhode Island man called Hazzard. Mind you, the trustee is an ass. At first he would not let me stay at the house. He was afraid I would steal something."
"So where did you sleep," Britta giggled, "or rather, with which of the women?"
"Oh, they all offered, but then Lucy had an idea. She took me, and the pistol Lydia loaned me for the highway, and the spare powder for the birding gun, and she set up targets in the yard. Then she had me practice my aim." Jim took a sip of Britta's chocolate. It was just as good as he remembered. "Well, that trustee came running from the house yelling at me and asking me just what I thought I was doing, and such, all upset."
"What did you tell him?" asked Lydia. She was doing some sewing on the ball gown she had borrowed from Mercy. It fit well enough around her tummy, but she needed to lower the neckline about six inches to show more of her cleavage.
"What Lucy told me to say. That I was practicing in case I needed to use force to enter the house. Well, he invited me right in and became very hospitable."
"Hospitable in my house," Lydia sniffed, and then cut some thread with her teeth. "Tell me more of my Blacks."
"Mr. Hazzard owns a plantation in South County, Rhode Island. Robert had already fully explained to him how the dairy plantation ran, so he was not just interested in buying your Blacks, but in copying the entire idea for the dairy. The sale included cattle and equipment. By now, there will be a farm just like yours on the mainland just south of Newport."
"And Red, did he sign the papers Jemmy sent to him?" asked Lydia.
"Oh yes, he signed them. He was eager to sign. He doesn't like the trustee poking his nose into things and he wants you back as his neighbor."
"What he wants is for me to have clear title to the land so that he can marry me," Lydia said with a frown.
"He sends you his love, and this." He handed Lydia a small box tied with a bow.
Lydia put her needle down and opened the box. Britta caught her breath and asked, "Are those emeralds?" for it was a necklace of gold with green stones in the settings.<
br />
"He said they were," said Jon.
"I hate to seem mean about such a lovely gift, but knowing Red he probably forced some widow to give them up to repay a loan. See here, the mark on the clasp. This is someone’s heirloom."
"He said it was his mother's," said Jon. Lydia snickered in disbelief.
"What was in the extra saddle bag?" Britta asked, hoping for gifts for herself.
"Lucy says I have grown, so she took me through some of Robert's clothes to find any that would fit me now. We found some."
Lydia looked long and hard at Jon. Six months ago when she bought his bond, he had been sporting a horribly bruised face. Once the bruises healed he became a very pretty boy. Now he had grown into his shoulders. He was no longer just a boy, and he was now more handsome than pretty. Why hadn't she noticed it before? He must have been filling out the whole time they were setting up the shop.
When Jon rode up today and swung himself from the saddle, to stand tall next to the horse, with his leather boots and hat, and the pistol shoved in his belt, well, he had looked very much a man. Could it be that she hadn't noticed because she saw him every day? All these thoughts ran across her mind but all she said was, "Good. If you have formal clothes then you may escort me to the ball." Of course, Jon hadn't heard about the ball yet, and so she had to explain.
Meanwhile, now that Jon was back home, Jim decided to appease his mother and spend some time at his own home. With Jon back he could no longer justify sleeping at the coffee shop. Despite Britta's pleading that he stay another day and tell his mother that Jon was delayed, he could not, for he would not lie to his mother.
That evening, after Jim escaped Britta's arms, she and Lydia stayed awake long into the night listening to Jon's stories about his week back at the farm. Lydia had many questions but Britta was worn out and left them still talking to go to bed.
Lydia woke her once, in order to lay Robby down beside her. She was woken again but this time by the sounds of passion from the other side of the thin wall. Britta lay in her bed not sleeping. There were too many giggles and moans coming from Lydia's room. She felt Robby squirm beside her. At least she had Robby for company.
