by Betty Bolte
Amazing that the Americans possessed the grit and fortitude combined with the brawn and cunning needed to afford the country such a momentous victory. Images of the fighting, the blood, and the screams skimmed through his mind. Even the horses paid the price of liberty. Wives and children were left behind to make ends meet without an able-bodied man to provide for them. Frank's brother, Jedediah, became one such victim, leaving poor Elizabeth without a husband and little Tommy without a father. Of course, Frank had felt compelled to claim familial responsibility for both Elizabeth and Tommy to ensure the boy's welfare. Then the tragic death of the mother left Tommy in Frank's care. Good thing Emily agreed to marry him and mother the boy. God worked in mysterious ways to care for his children.
As the townspeople cheered and laughed, the packed crowd parted. Benjamin finally spotted Frank under the shade of a spreading oak, scribbling furiously in his notebook. He strode over to him, tapping an impatient hand against his thigh. If God was going to grant him patience, he sure as hell better hurry up about it.
A sigh preceded the silence of Frank's pencil scratching on the pad. He flipped closed the leather binding and grinned at Benjamin. "Did you reckon that?" He tucked the small book into his inside coat pocket. "How many blacks do you figure will take up the offer to run away under the guise of British freedom?"
"Not all slaves will take the offer since they'd leave behind elderly families still enslaved in many cases. Those that do accept the bargain face futures less certain to provide ample means to support themselves." Benjamin shook his head at their folly. "They do not appreciate what security they have, nor the trials they could avoid by staying in their current situation."
"Maybe so, but those who manage to escape through British intervention have hope that they may choose their own path," Captain Sullivan said, joining them. "That much is worth the risk."
Frank rolled the pencil between his thumb and forefinger. "True, but the poor fellows need more than desire for liberty to feed and clothe themselves and their families."
"The Abernathy plantation already felt the impact from slaves deserting them." Benjamin had seen Mr. Abernathy's concern etched into the frown lines at their last meeting. "Which also means less help in town as well."
"Aye, I've had the same ill fortune," Captain Sullivan said. "Several of my strongest slaves already hooked up with the bloody British. Of course, they claim to only allow free blacks to sail with them, but they do not always verify those who apply are indeed free. The British steal our property now the same as they stole the tapestries and china out of our houses."
"Everything certainly changed over the last few years, and now we face the daunting task of establishing an American government," Benjamin said slowly. "A new kind of world has opened before us. We must decide what we'll make of it."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the men. In the distance a dark thundercloud leisurely built above the whitecapped seaport. Waves slapped the hulls of the ships rocking to and fro in the harbor, creating a steady background to the various conversations surrounding the men. The scent of roasting fish, horse dung, and salt mingled in the air. Nothing stood in his way except for the fact that Amy visited her sister outside of town. He could change that. He'd ride out tomorrow to inform her of his intentions. Right after he spoke to her father. It should come as no surprise to Mr. Abernathy when Benjamin formally asked for Amy's hand in marriage.
"Do you suppose the governor will want the gem back soon, since this conflict is winding down?" Frank shifted his weight to one foot, glancing around.
Captain Sullivan crossed his arms and glanced at Frank. "I would think so. Once no threat is apparent."
"Aye, I'm sure he will." Benjamin drew himself up to his full height and centered his balance. "Until then, 'tis safe."
Benjamin scanned the area for any signs of trouble as the crowd dispersed. A gray and black gull called hoarsely to the sea as it flew high overhead. Storm clouds continued to gather on the horizon, with the setting sun accentuating their darkness against the sky.
Satisfied by the general attitude of the people around him, Benjamin relaxed his posture. "How will the women make do with fewer house servants?" Surely Amy would not be forced to actually scrub dishes and clothes, let alone ruin her pretty, delicate hands on anything so vulgar as cleaning floors. He vowed silently to arrange for additional help, whether slave or indentured servant, if necessary to prevent such a catastrophe.
"I suppose they'll have to keep their own houses again, rather than going about town, wasting time on charity works." Captain Sullivan chuckled. "It may even keep my Emily out of mischief for a change."
"We can only hope." Frank turned to watch a loud group of men pass by. "Maybe I should send all the staff away, for that matter. Then she'd have to stay home."
"Since the British will depart, there's no need." Benjamin rubbed his jaw, making a show of pondering that fact. "Indeed, Frank, I believe you'd have quite a time confining your ray of sunshine to home and hearth. You may even start a new kind of rebellion."
"Or continue one, given she's been a little spitfire all along." Frank grimaced. "What have I gotten myself into?" A smile broke through the grimace.
"Whatever the reality, you will not be bored." He laughed at Frank's apparent joke.
Sullivan slapped Frank on the back. "Son, only two months until Twelfth Night and once you've married my lovely, spirited, headstrong daughter, she becomes your problem. Then I'll celebrate as well."
"Thank you, sir." Frank grinned broadly. "I believe I'm up to the challenge."
"When I marry," Benjamin said lightly, his smile sobering, "I shall ensure my wife minds my commands and behaves appropriately as a respectable republican wife and mother."
Benjamin looked to Frank for his agreement, surprised by the owl-like eyes blinking slowly at him. Frank glanced at Sullivan, then back to Benjamin. Merriment reflected in his expression.
Bristling, Benjamin braced himself. He hated playing the fool. "What, pray tell, is so funny?"
Sullivan coughed. Did he mask laughter? Ire built inside at the thought that the two men he respected found him the subject of a private joke.
He squared his shoulders then elaborated on his views. "Women, once properly married, must cleave to their husband as their lord and master and do as they are bidden. Everyone knows that."
Frank started laughing outright but soon quelled his mirth when Benjamin leveled a withering glare at him.
"What?" Benjamin tapped a hand on his thigh, the cloth soft and smooth beneath his calloused fingers.
"For an intelligent man, you have much to learn, my friend." Frank grinned at him, though he refrained from laughing again.
"I believe Miss Amy understands my expectations, so you need not worry on that score." Benjamin dared his friend to challenge that statement.
"Oh, 'tis Miss Amy, is it?" Captain Sullivan spluttered. "She's agreed to marry you?"
Benjamin could not fathom the surprise in the captain's expression. He hesitated to admit the truth but saw no good way to avoid it. "Not exactly."
Sullivan frowned. "She's thinking on it though, is she?"
Feeling like a schoolboy caught in a fib, Benjamin sighed. "She has made her desires clear already."
"She said yes?" Frank quirked his mouth as he studied Benjamin.
"Not exactly." The heat of anger coupled with a vague sense of embarrassment boiled in Benjamin's chest.
Frank nodded sagely. "I see. She said no." He leaned toward Benjamin, peering into his eyes. "Or more likely, she's been avoiding you, right?"
Amy's words repeated in his head, her insistence that she no longer desired his attentions. In fact, Frank spoke the truth. Caught, Benjamin defended his lack of progress in wooing Amy's hand. "She's out of town, helping to bring her sister to bed with child."
Frank lifted an eyebrow and grinned. "As good an excuse as any, I suppose." He crossed his arms. "It seems rather drastic that she felt compelled to leave town
rather than face you. What did you do to her?"
Benjamin ran a hand through his hair. He relived the distress on her face when he'd cornered her on the piazza. The moonlight had illuminated her wary expression, but her eyes had shown she still felt something for him. He'd broken her trust in him when he had left without a word years before, and now she'd left him without saying good-bye. What had he done, indeed?
* * *
An owl hooted in the darkness outside the bedroom where Amy paced between the bed and the warm glow of the lamp sitting on the small table beside an overstuffed chair. No moon hovered outside to help illuminate the space. Her few belongings, carried with her on this unsettling mission to help Evelyn, lay scattered around the room. Not even a wardrobe in which to hang her few gowns graced the starkly furnished room. Restless and worried, she crossed her arms to warm herself. The simply crafted bed with its stuffed mattress and tossed-back quilt failed to entice her back into its warmth and comfort.
A small silver box rested on the table, its tiny lock waiting for the matching silver key she carried in her purse. Soft lamplight flickered along the silver embossed roses decorating the exterior of the box. The contents weighed heavy on Amy's mind this cold fall night. With no fireplace to keep her warm, her legs and arms soon chilled as she moved slowly around the room, circling the table but avoiding the temptation to open the silver container and revisit the past. A past that included loving Ben.
Ben had presented the box to her when they first started courting. She'd been full of love for him and hopeful for their future. She wrapped her arms tighter around her waist as grief threatened to overwhelm her. Tightening her grip on rampant emotions, she let out a long, slow breath. Mayhap facing the memories within the box would ease her pain and she could move on, forge a new future. Without Ben in it.
Crossing to the table with sudden determination, she opened her purse and retrieved the key. Fitting it slowly into the tiny slot, she turned her wrist and the lock clicked open. After carefully replacing the key in her purse, she laid her hand on the lid before tracing the roses with a fingertip. She lifted the lid on its delicate hinges, and the silver warmed under her touch.
Inside nestled treasured vestiges of their time together. Lifting a black velvet hair ribbon from the top of the pile, she slid it between her fingers, recalling how Ben had loved to see it wrapped among her curls. She laid it aside, patting it as though settling it in the past. Peering into the shallow interior of the box, she spotted the two halves of a fragile robin's egg. Carefully picking up one half at a time, she laid them on her open palm. How vividly she saw in her mind's eye the baby bird emerging from his shell. She and Ben had been strolling through the town commons, Ben teasing her as usual. Laughing at his antics, she'd almost missed the miracle of the baby bird's appearance into the world. The nest hid on a surprisingly low branch of a tree. They'd watched for a while before continuing their walk. The next day Ben had returned with the shell fragments to remind her, he'd said, of the new beginnings of their own life together. Tears smarted in her eyes, and she blinked them away. Gently setting the shell onto the ribbon, she turned resolutely back to the box.
A white, lace-edged kerchief filled the white-satin-lined bottom. She reached out, noticing for the first time her trembling fingers, and removed the folded material. A hard lump within the soft bundle assured her his most prized gift remained hidden inside. Laying the kerchief on the table, she stared at the dainty embroidery on the corner, her initials. Only not from her current name, but of her future one as his wife. When more salty tears threatened, annoyance at herself tightened her stomach and steeled her resolve.
Flipping open the carefully arranged fabric one corner at a time, her heart beat in her ears, fingers quivering with each movement. Her stomach rolled when the brooch, or rather Ben's face, stared up at her. The oval gold locket featured a miniature of his handsome countenance, steadily gazing at her with a secret smile meant only for her. Amy fingered the fastener subtly worked among the fine gold braid adorning the locket's edge, finally popping open the hinged door. Cautiously she swung the tiny door with her forefinger, revealing the short lock of Ben's hair curled within. A tear slid down her cheek, hot and unwanted. She swiped the offending trespasser away with a flick of her hand.
A faint scratching at the door made her jump as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. Who could be about at such a late hour?
"One moment." Folding the locket away in its nest, she layered it in the box and carefully replaced the other items. After snapping the lid closed with a satisfying thump, she hurried to the door.
Drawing the heavy door open, she peered into the darkened hall. "Evelyn?"
"Shhhh!" Evelyn, her eyes wide with fear, pushed Amy backward into the room, silently closing the door behind her. "Walter may hear."
Amy shook her head in confusion even as her insides squeezed fear into her veins. "So?"
"I'm in enough trouble without him finding me here talking to you." Evelyn leaned against the door for a moment, eyes searching the room. "Pretty bleak, isn't it?"
Amy surveyed the bed, the night table with its oil lamp and silver box, the many-colored braided rug on the hardwood floor beside the bedstead. Heavy drapes hung on either side of the lone window overlooking the rear garden and glaring at the forest beyond. She longed for her own room at home, with its writing desk and padded chair, paper and quills, and cozy fireplace to keep her warm. But most of all she wished to no longer feel the eyes of the forest upon her.
"Amy, you must be on your guard against him," Evelyn whispered. "He's dangerous."
The chill sliding down Amy's back had nothing to do with the night air. "What makes you say that?"
Evelyn eased farther into the room, her long eggshell-colored nightdress flowing around her like vapor, her eyes wild and scared. "I cannot explain, but he acts full of rage and worry at times. I'm so afraid. It's all I can do to remain calm in his presence."
Evelyn reached to grasp Amy's arms with both hands. As Evelyn's cuffs slid up her thin arms, dark purple and red bruises showed themselves around her wrists. Amy stared at them, uncertain as to how to interpret their meaning, then raised troubled eyes to meet her sister's. Evelyn dropped her arms, tugging on the cuffs to conceal the evidence of her husband's abuse.
Anger boiled in Amy's blood. "He did that?"
Evelyn nodded, arms crossed. "I aggravated him by—"
Amy started shaking her head and raised a hand to cut off whatever her sister began to say. "He's a brutal man. You must leave him."
"No!" Evelyn retreated three steps, both hands now gripping her bulging belly. "I cannot. What of my child? What would become of my baby?"
"What kind of life is this, to live in fear day in and day out?" Amy cautiously approached Evelyn. "This is no way to live, no way for your child to live either. Come back to town with me."
"I cannot. Nay, I will not." Evelyn looked at Amy with red-rimmed eyes. "I vowed to stay with him until death parts us, and I mean to keep my promise."
"Even if he beats you? Mayhap one day he'll kill you instead of merely leaving bruises." Amy hugged herself, trying to still the anger and fear contorting her insides.
Evelyn brushed away the tear forging a trail down her cheek. "I did not come to you to seek shelter from my own husband. I only wished to warn you. He does not like having you and especially Samantha here. He says you're judging him and he won't tolerate that from anyone."
"I came here to help you and defend you against him." Amy grasped Evelyn's hands, gripping them in her own as she sought acceptance in Evelyn's eyes. "He can't take on all four of us."
"He need not. It's only me he wants." Evelyn smiled with tight lips, squeezing Amy's hands with cold fingers.
"I'll never marry, not if it leaves me subjected to this kind of life." Amy forced her shoulders to relax though the tension in the room remained palpable.
Evelyn shook her head and searched Amy's eyes. "Just remember not all men ar
e like Walter. I know you'll find a decent man to love you, one who will cherish you for who you are. Like Benjamin. You two made such a fine couple. You should give him another chance since the war is ending."
"Do not count on us resuming any kind of relationship." Amy released Evelyn's hands to briefly hug her instead. "I rather think... What was that? A door closing?"
Evelyn blanched. "He's awake. I must go."
"Wait, don't leave." Amy tried to catch hold of Evelyn's hand but missed.
"Be careful." Evelyn hurried to the door on silent feet, placing a hand on the knob while she listened for movement on the other side. Soundlessly she pulled the door open enough to squeeze through and vanish into the darkness beyond.
Amy stood for a moment staring at the closed door before turning to lean against it. She let her gaze wander the room, touching on the few furnishings until landing on the silver box. She stared at it, reliving the memories it evoked and finally acknowledging to herself the awful truth behind Evelyn's words.
Chapter 6
Morning arrived with a chilly breeze and a layer of wispy clouds drifting above, the nip in the air pushing the dappled gray stallion into a brisk canter. A pale sun tried to warm the late morning breeze as Benjamin rode easily, moving as one with the horse's cadence. The thrill of flying over the hard-packed road lifted his spirits.
Riding out to meet his Amy, let her know of his affection and desire for her to be his wife, Benjamin would let nothing dampen his mood. Not the hopefully brief required stop at the army headquarters to confirm to General Greene the imminent withdrawal of the British troops. Nor the memory of her parents' mirth when he'd asked for her hand earlier in the morning over breakfast. That probably had something to do with the fact he'd repeated the same reasoned approach he'd used when speaking with Frank and Captain Sullivan. The one that brought laughter to the eyes of his best friend and to those of the good captain. Amy would simply learn to be a respectable wife and mother and forego the immature nonsense of inventing stories and roaming around the countryside on mysterious missions. Tales of fiction as well as lies would no longer be necessary for either of them, after spying and smuggling also were no longer required.
