The Heart's Stronghold

by Amanda Barratt

  “Please, listen. He is loyal, kind—a good man, a good father—”

  “Daughter.” Papa raised his hand and drew near. “Do you want a man tarnished by a wayward marriage?”

  “You said so yourself—he did not deserve such a hardship.”

  “Does this man take advantage of your innocence, Sabine?” Moeder interjected.

  “No, Moeder! Jacob has not one speck of deceit. Just like your circumstance was unavoidable, Jacob had no fault in his own.”

  “You are in love with him,” Papa said in a low tone. “Does he feel the same as you, daughter?”

  “I believe so.” She grimaced. “He once told me so, months ago. But we have seen little of each other this past winter. Our differences set us apart after we argued the first day of ice fishing. But Apenimon helped me see that perhaps our differences should not separate us but complement each other.”

  Papa’s chest rose with a deep breath. “I believe Jacob should talk to me about his part in this. You are my only daughter.”

  “I know, Papa. We had planned on telling you. But now I am not sure what he feels anymore. I’ve ruined it with my fear of change. I cut it off after we argued on the ice, but I feel wretched letting my fear stop what my heart wants the most.”

  “Fear keeps us from love,” Moeder said wistfully. “I know that well.”

  “Let us pray on this, Sabine.” Papa hooked his thumbs on his suspenders. “And if Jacob is worthy at all, may he come ask our permission on his own.”

  Papa helped Moeder stand, and he escorted her through the gate.

  Sabine glanced over her shoulder at the sparkling lake against the dark sky. “Tomorrow’s trading day will be successful, I know it.”

  “Please, Sabine, cut the best and bring them to our own table,” Moeder said.

  “Are you sure, Moeder? We always have a good trade with all the flowers.”

  “Yes, I am certain.”

  “Very well.” Sabine began to cut the large patch of violet tulips—they were this year’s fullest. She was careful with each stem and each petal, although her hands were shaking after all she’d just admitted. She stood with an armful of tulips, trying to calm herself. A loud snap made her jump.

  “Hello?” Sabine called across the garden to the darkening wood. A rustle met her ears. A long drawn-out silence filled in the next few breaths.

  Perhaps it was an animal. Sabine stayed a moment longer then turned to go inside. Before she rounded the corner, she peered into the wood again.

  Nothing was there. She sighed and released the last of her trepidation. By the time she entered her cozy home, her hands had stopped shaking and her parents were busy preparing the meal.

  Nothing more was mentioned about her greatest confession.

  Sabine’s usual excitement for this special trade day was ever present as she gathered up her armfuls of cut stems. She kept eyeing the white ones though, tempted to offer one to Jacob as Apenimon suggested. She wanted to speak with Jacob at dinner, but he tended to his daughter as a good father should, and they retired before Sabine could make her way to their side of the fire.

  Nonetheless, this day would be a happy one regardless of the changed Sabine. A weight had been lifted now that her parents knew her secret. Oddly, she felt like herself before the arrival of Jacob and his men, and she’d not linger on her feelings any longer.

  As she neatly placed the reds and pinks and purples into large baskets, another rustling came from behind the lean-to.

  “Hello?” Sabine called out. Perhaps she would be able to see the cause of the disturbance in the light of day. She strode past the young vegetable plants and stepped outside the back gate.

  Amelia peered into the wood, her arms wrapped around a birch trunk. “I saw a man with a belt of shells and a large bow,” she said. “I want to learn how to shoot.”

  “Oh, do you mean yesterday, when Apenimon came by?” Although she did not recall him carrying his bow. “They do not come by foot on trade day. Their canoes are packed with pelts.”

  “Not yesterday.” She ran to the corner of the lean-to, her attention focused on the dappled shade of the wood. “Today. Just a moment ago. He ran back into the shrubbery.”

  Sabine’s heart skipped a beat. She lifted her skirt and traipsed toward the edge of the wood. She queried in Iroquois. Nobody responded. The only sounds she could hear were the distant conversation at the fort entrance and the continuous knocking of a woodpecker.

  “I believe you are just as excited as your father to learn the ways of the Iroquois. Perhaps you’ve dreamed up an archer to follow—but I can introduce you to a real one today.”

  The little girl shook her head in protest, but before she could speak, her father’s voice rumbled from behind. “Amelia.”

  Sabine and Amelia spun around. Jacob stood at the corner of the white tulip patch with his knuckles pressed at his hips. His face was still and expressionless, as if molded from the same solid clay bricks as the wall that rose beyond him.

  He pressed forward, reprimanding his daughter. “You are not to leave the walls of the fort without my permission, Amelia.” As he drew near, his expression softened with the same concern Sabine witnessed on the night they spoke about his daughter’s fate.

  “I am sorry, Jacob. She was curious.” Sabine reached out and placed her hand gently on his arm. “I can see that her disappearing would cause you worry.”

  His lips parted, and he searched Sabine’s eyes. “I thank you for understanding … Miss Van Der Berg.” His eyebrows cinched for a moment, then he gave a smile. “She might have caught the same courage that runs rampant on this frontier.” He winked at her, sending a flurry of flutters in her chest. She dipped her chin and peeked at Amelia, mostly to hide the sure blush that bloomed on her cheeks. Jacob reached out his hand to his daughter. “Come, Amelia. You can help me stand watch for the first arrivals this morning.”

  Amelia twirled, tugging on the strap of her bonnet, and cast her large brown eyes up at Sabine. “Do you think I can help you with the flowers?” She turned to her father and gave a quick curtsy. “I’d rather do that, Father, if you do not mind.”

  Sabine glanced up at Jacob to gauge his response. He hadn’t trusted her to keep his daughter under their roof. Would he allow her to be in Sabine’s care this trade day, with all the different men about?

  Jacob pressed his lips together and hooked his chin with a finger. “Hmm, I can see why you’d prefer such a task.” The corner of his mouth tweaked, and he cast his full attention on Sabine. If ever an embrace could be found in a look, it was now. How she wanted to stay locked in his regard indefinitely. Forever. Heat buzzed around her collar and she swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Sabine—Miss Van Der Berg—would that be any trouble to you?”

  “No, of course not,” she spoke, hushed. Weakness flooded over her unlike any strength she might have been credited with. No, Jacob Bennington captured her heart’s longing, and she had no control over the surrender coaxed out by his kindness.

  Amelia yelped with glee and rushed over to the baskets at the other end of the garden. She carefully straightened the tulips on the very top of the pile.

  Jacob looked over his shoulder, down toward the shore, then faced Sabine again. He was close enough to block out her view of the blue sky above. She would cast off the color blue forever if it meant gazing into his umber eyes and feeling the tickle of his warm breath on her nose.

  “Sabine, once again, I’ve let my fear cripple me.”

  “You have?” She tried to gather whatever strength had not melted away. With a hard swallow, she admitted, “I’ve not been fair to you. My stubbornness is the ugly side of courage, I suppose.” She glimpsed the white flowers just beyond his elbow. “You have your duty here.”

  “Yes, but you have shown me that peace is abundant too. I chose to believe one side, in spite of your diligence to show the other.”

  “It seems we are both guilty of choosing sides.”

  He smir
ked, then cupped her elbow, sending a current from her head to her toes. “Perhaps, we should stand together, right here, in the middle of it all.”

  “I could agree with that.” She fiddled with the brass button at his chest.

  He tipped her chin up. “Forgive me, Sabine?”

  “I do. And I promise to be more considerate, Jacob. You have great responsibility.”

  His eyes narrowed with a broad smile—yes, the blue sky was nothing compared to this. She raised on her toes, and for the first time, she kissed him first. His lips were ready though, and he immediately returned a gentle caress. Her chin trembled with his tender touch.

  ’Twas ever true that the first kiss had opened wide the continual longing for the next. She pressed into him, completely satisfied but never fully satiated.

  With a regrettable sigh, Jacob pulled away but squeezed her close before standing apart from her. “We mustn’t get caught—”

  “I told my parents,” she interjected.

  “You did? What did they say?”

  “Not much. They were guarded, but not against you.”

  “That is good. I need as many allies as I can get in this place.”

  “You have me.” Completely. She could not think of life without this man by her side.

  “I do?” He waggled his eyebrows. “What can I do to keep you?”

  “The one kiss was all you needed.” She lowered her lashes at such vulnerability. He pressed his nose to hers and stole another kiss. “Well, maybe a few more.” They laughed together.

  “I will spend the rest of my life keeping you,” Jacob whispered. “But first, I’d like for a proper announcement to be made.”

  “Announcement?”

  Before he could explain, he dashed across the garden. Men began to wheel wares down to the shore. Jacob kissed his daughter on the head and shouted, “See you both at the trade. Don’t be long.” He tipped his hat at Sabine and then joined the others.

  The blue sky was a vibrant shade today. And too vast and open for Sabine’s liking. She’d rather every corner of her sight fill up with the handsome Jacob Bennington.

  The excitement from the traders buzzed through the air like the docks of Albany when a new vessel appeared from England. Even the man from the northern shore who bragged on the French during ice fishing appeared content as he bargained beside Apenimon.

  As far as Jacob could tell, each party was satisfied with their exchange, and all seemed well on the shore of Ontario.

  Yes, all was extremely well with Sabine in the mix, her hair with a copper shine as it caught the sunlight just so and her knowing smile finding him across the crowd.

  Not only did her confidence boost Jacob’s admiration of her, but her tenderness with his daughter nearly burst his spirit. How could a woman be so bold yet so gentle?

  As the trade went on, he became more anxious for it to be over. This day would close on the brink of a brighter tomorrow—a day when Jacob would forget his past heartache at last and vow his heart completely to Sabine Van Der Berg. First he had to speak with Mr. Van Der Berg. But there was hardly a chance to do so.

  At dusk the fire blazed, and the savory scent of roasting salmon distracted him as his stomach rumbled. Not long after the meal was served, Sabine’s parents departed from the group, her mother complaining of a headache.

  Perhaps this was Jacob’s chance.

  While Sabine and Amelia admired a necklace Apenimon had offered in the exchange, Jacob bounded across the tall grasses and toward the cabin. When he approached the door though, a low unintelligible voice carried from the garden.

  He crept around toward the east then froze midstep, clutching at the timbered corner of the cabin. To his surprise, the man from the northern shore crouched down among the white tulips. He spoke with someone out of Jacob’s view. A familiar wave of suspicion frenzied the blood in his chest, sending a drumming pulse in his ears.

  But what harm could they do in a flower patch?

  Jacob opened his mouth to make himself known.

  “Hello, Jacob,” Mr. Van Der Berg called out from the porch.

  Jacob spun toward him.

  “You seem rather focused on my wife’s tulips.” He lodged his thumb under his suspender. “They aren’t for trade.”

  “Oh no, that is not what I was—” Jacob looked back at the garden. The man had disappeared. Jacob leapt over the short fence and ran down and around the cabin. He could barely see anything in the fading light, nor among the dark shadows of the wood.

  “What is the matter, Lieutenant?” Sabine’s father called out.

  Jacob darted back through the garden, hurried out of the gate, and ran toward the edge of the Van Der Berg property. He searched the crowded shore for Apenimon’s red covering. If Sabine’s friend accompanied that man, he would not worry. Searching the circle of men by the fire and the traders gathered by the canoes, he was relieved not to find Apenimon among the crowd. Amelia and Sabine were now by the edge of the lake, skipping rocks.

  All seemed well.

  Jacob swiveled around. Sabine’s father looked as defensive on the outside as Jacob had felt on the inside. His arms were crossed. Jacob was certain he probably scowled, though the light was too dim for him to be certain. “Pardon me, sir. I saw an Iroquois man in your garden. He spoke to someone in a hushed tone.”

  “They are our friends, son.” The man dropped his arms and began to walk toward the feast again. “Who did he speak with?”

  “I believe it to be Apenimon.” Jacob joined Mr. Van Der Berg as they strode through the grasses.

  “You know that Apenimon adores the white tulips.” Mr. Van Der Berg chuckled. “I am sure he was showing off to his friend.”

  “Of course,” Jacob replied. But why would they disappear so quickly? No, he need not worry.

  Jacob shook away the last ounce of doubt, practicing his newfound trust on this frontier, and stopped in his tracks. “Uh, sir—” He rubbed his hands together, heat creeping along his shoulders and up his neck.

  Mr. Van Der Berg continued for a few steps then faced him. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “There is something I must ask you.” Jacob cleared his throat, his stomach as topsy-turvy as his crossing from England.

  “What is it?”

  The first sprinkling of stars in the indigo sky shone above the great lake ahead. A dull glitter compared to his treasures below. Sabine and Amelia ran toward the fire from the shore again. He borrowed the courage he believed was forever aflame within the woman he loved.

  Drawing a breath of the cool night air into his lungs, Jacob began, “I am in love with your daughter, and I would like to ask for your blessing.”

  Chapter 11

  This morning was different than every other morning. Although Jacob missed out on sleep again, it was only because he anticipated his proposal to Sabine. Her father had given his blessing. Yet with little Amelia ever present and the Iroquois sharing their stories and music well into the evening, Jacob did not have one moment alone with Sabine.

  He climbed the stairs to his morning watch, waiting for Sabine to wake. Perhaps he would steal his chance in the garden among her mother’s tulips. That setting would be nothing short of perfect.

  He leaned his elbows on the square window of the bastion and breathed in the crisp morning air. No candlelight shone from the cabin windows. Jacob was awake while peace fell sleepily around him. His lids grew heavy, and he leaned his chin on his crossed arms. Something moved in the garden. He rubbed his eyes and peered down to the Van Der Berg place.

  In the gray light, Apenimon slipped onto the property from the far west side. Even though Jacob couldn’t make out his face, he recognized the red covering draped across one shoulder. Apenimon kept his head lowered as he bent forward and slinked across the dirt path lined with mounding plants. Jacob rose as the man continued toward the far patch of white tulips.

  What was he doing? He knew the sacredness of those flowers. Sabine’s parents had mentioned Apenimon’s fasc
ination with them.

  Jacob left his watch and bumbled down the stairs, talking his heart out of suspicion once again. This man was a friend—nearly kin—to Sabine. Jacob would only go to him as a friend, paving the same foundation of trust for himself with this ally.

  When he left the walls of the fort, the man was in the thick of the white tulip patch, hunched over like a crimson boulder. The muscles in his bare shoulder worked. Jacob hastened. A tulip head flew to the dirt beside the cabin wall.

  “Apenimon?” he called out. The man turned his head with his nose and mouth hidden by his arm. He leapt up. The crimson covering crumpled to the ground as he ran across the garden and toward the wood again. Jacob sprinted around the fenced area, panicked at the trail of tulip heads splayed across the garden path. What act of deceit had just occurred? And by someone whom Sabine had considered family? How could he?

  The man’s long ebony hair whipped behind him as he rushed through the tall birch trees and wild shrubbery. Jacob ran faster. He could not lose him. “Apenimon! I see you, man!” Jacob waved his arm in front of him to slap away the brush. The man dipped down and disappeared.

  Agitation crawled along Jacob’s spine as he considered the magnitude of such an ally-disguised vandal. He opened his mouth to call out again. Before a sound escaped, a blinding force hit the back of his head. Pain radiated from his crown to the back of his neck and everything grew dark.

  Sabine woke with a start. Dawn’s pale light shone through her window. She closed her eyes, but they only fluttered like her overactive heart. Perhaps she dreamed. She could not recall anything. Slipping her dress on quietly, she crept across the main room, unlatched the door, and slid out into the cool morning while her parents slept soundly.

  Anticipation overwhelmed her as she considered the chance of finding Jacob out and about this day. They’d hardly spoken yesterday, but she’d enjoyed accompanying his daughter. What gentle words of affirmation and sweet embrace would she encounter next? She entered the garden and couldn’t help but laugh to herself. How amused the Lord must be at their match—one loyal to the throne, the other to the land. Their love was a treaty in itself.