“And how are the Stewarts?” He smiled, pointing to the laundry. “Again, I’m interfering.”
“’Tis a welcome interruption,” Mary responded.
Heather smirked. “Please take Mr. Macmillan inside and get him some cider. I will care for Sara and be down soon. There is a recent Gazette in there, Andrew.”
Heather spotted Andrew observing her more than once at dinner. Something was on his mind, perhaps news of James. Dear God, please let him be well and safe.
Thomas reached for more ham. “There is news a large English fleet arrived in New York. The fighting will increase now that we have declared our independence from England. Admiral Lord Howe and his brother General Lord Howe are our biggest threats.”
Heather studied Thomas. He must have missed discussing current events with another man. With Andrew here, he finally had someone to debate war strategy.
Mary thumped her fingers on the table. “Have you received any posts from James?”
“No. No, but I expect no word from him when he is at sea.”
“I pray he is well,” Heather said. Was Andrew’s modest smile forced optimism? “James is in our prayers, as are so many others.”
Later, Heather and Mary went outside to pick up the dry linens from the hedges. She spotted Mary looking toward the field beyond the barn.
“Why did Mr. Macmillan go out with Thomas and the boys to harvest the wheat?”
“I think he wants to help.”
“He does not need to do that.”
“Nay, but he likes to help when he visits.”
“His countenance at dinner ... he kept watching you like he wanted to say something.”
Heather placed the folded laundry in a basket. Mary had also noticed Andrew’s stares. “Perhaps he wanted a way to bring James into the conversation, and you did that.”
“I never asked Papa or you before, and perhaps you will think me rude ... Do we charge Mr. Macmillan or the Duncan family when they stay here?”
“Nay, we never have. However, since ... last November, they always manage to pass a few notes to me. I initially resisted. But Maggie said they would not be comfortable visiting unless I accepted. She said I must learn to receive from friends just as I like to assist others.”
“You know there is no use arguing with Mrs. Duncan.”
They both laughed.
Around seven, the men returned, the Gordons to their cottage and Mark and Andrew to the Green.
Mark came through the door first. “We are here to get clean shirts. We plan to wash at the pond.”
“Supper will be ready when you return.”
After the meal, the family remained at the table, entertained by Andrew as he read a book of Aesop’s Fables to Douglas. Heather reached for the few remaining dishes. “We appreciate your helping today. The harvesting would have taken so much longer if not for you. We are all grateful.”
In the kitchen, Heather gazed out the window. She could focus beyond her hurting heart. The summer sounds and the rosy sky pleased her. “Red skies at night, sailors delight.”
“Red skies in morning, sailors take warning.” Andrew’s deep voice was right behind her.
She flinched and pivoted. “I did not hear you come in the kitchen.”
“I did not mean to startle you.” His pensive look had returned.
“Is there anything I can get you?”
“Nay. I, uh ... Do you think we might take a walk by the pond?”
As they walked along the gravel path, Andrew said very little. What troubled him? Please ... nothing bad. The breeze at the pond was refreshing. Why was he studying her so intently?
She gazed at the trees framing the far side of the pond. “What a lovely time of night.”
Andrew led her to the bench. “Shall we sit?”
“Is something wrong?” She sat and turned her head to clearly observe his face.
Andrew laughed. “I do have something I want to speak about with you, and I guess I have not known the best way to approach the subject.” He looked out toward the pond before turning back toward her. His right arm rested on the back of the bench. “Heather, you and your family mean a great deal to me. I know how painful it is to lose a beloved spouse. ’Tis devastating. When I am not at the Green, I find myself thinking about you and wondering how you are faring. I know it has been less than a year since Matthew left and only a few months since you learned of his death.” He took a deep breath. “I think of you in other ways as well, and often.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “I care deeply for you, Heather. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
CHAPTER 32
Heather caught her breath. Why had she not sensed Andrew’s intentions? How was she to respond? He continued to speak, but the pounding in her chest and the thoughts racing through her head drowned out his words. She cared for Andrew, but she loved Matthew and still felt married. Perhaps she always would. “Andrew, I—”
“I will take care of you and the children.” His blue eyes were filled with love. He drew closer.
She rose from the bench and stood in front of him. “I am deeply honored by your declaration, your generosity, and your affection. You are a dear friend. I apologize if I led you to believe I might enter into marriage again. I’m not ready to consider that now, and ... and I’m not sure I ever will be.”
“’Tis too soon.” The look of hurt as he stood and faced her tore at her heart. “I should have waited. Of course, I should have.”
She stood as well. “You’re so kind, truly. ’Tis just ... Matthew is ... Matthew was ...” How could she make him understand? How could anybody understand her feelings?
He tilted his head to the side. “What is it? Do you know something you have not shared with me?”
“Nay. Not really.” She closed her mouth, opened it again. What could she say? Would he understand? “Think me foolish if you will, but when I pray, and at other times, I have sensed ... I cannot explain it. There is too much about Matthew’s disappearance I do not understand.”
He sat back on the bench, his gaze still on her. He patted the space beside him. “Sit down. I shan’t press you.” His charming smile returned.
She gazed at the pond. The dusky sky had lost its rosy hue. The evening sounds of owls and tree frogs had grown louder. “We were sitting here in April when Adam told me what he had learned about Matthew’s passing. Someday, I may travel to Philadelphia to see his grave.”
“That might bring some closure for you.”
“I wonder.” She turned to him. “I hope what we shared here will not alter our friendship. It would grieve me to lose it. But I do not want to be insensitive or selfish.”
“We have been good friends for too long to let my ...” He paused, gathered himself. “Nothing will alter our friendship. We can let time take us where it will.”
“I cannot make you any promises. Someday there may be another lady for you.” She hated the thought of hurting him. Andrew was too good a friend.
His smile gave her hope that nothing would change. His hand came to rest on hers. “Please, if you reconsider, if you view things differently, do not be shy about telling me.”
She chuckled, though it died quickly. “Have you ever known me to be shy about expressing myself? Nay, Andrew, I will not let pride keep me from being honest with you.”
“Good. Now we best return to the Green, or your children may think I kidnapped you.”
The next morning, the family stood outside to see Andrew off as he mounted his bay and headed down the lane.
Heather felt Mary’s eyes on her. “I’m sorry Mr. Macmillan left so soon. He is always so pleasant.”
“Aye, he is a fine chap and good friend.”
An hour later they had extracted all the honey they were going to get from the honeycomb. After storing it in jars and washing the honeycomb for later use, Heather fed Sara.
“May I go to Martha’s after dinner?” Mary asked.
“Aye, and take one of the jars
of honey to her mother. Sugar is in such short supply these days. Hannah loves our blackberries, so take some of those also. And watch the sky. ’Tis warm, and thunderstorms are always a possibility.”
“Did Mr. Macmillan say when he might come back for a visit?”
“Nay. He keeps very busy in Fredericksburg. He may return before winter.”
Mary left a few minutes later laden down with honey, berries, and her sewing project.
Heather and Polly walked outside to the kitchen garden to pick ripe vegetables.
They were in the midst of preserving when a bolt of lightning followed instantly by a thunderclap made them both jump.
Polly went to the window and looked out toward the lane. “That was close.”
“I hope Mary is safe.” Heather opened the door facing the barn. “I see Thomas and Mark penning animals, and Todd is securing things around the barn. Philip must be on the other side. I do not see him.”
Rain that began gently picked up in intensity.
The door opened, and Thomas, Mark, and Todd entered, shaking the water off.
Polly looked up from the large kettle simmering over the hearth. “Where is Philip?”
Thomas shrugged. “I’m sure he will be here soon.”
Heather brought towels for them to dry off. She used another cloth to wipe the water off the floor. “I hope Mary stayed at Martha’s.”
“I need to get to the cottage to close the windows,” Polly said. She headed toward the center hall and the front door. Thomas followed.
A few minutes later, the pounding on the back door brought Heather to her feet. She rushed to open the door, gasping when she saw Philip with Mary in his arms. “Quick, bring her in here. What happened?” She closed the door behind them, trying to keep the blowing rain from coming inside.
Breathing hard, Philip carried Mary inside. “Where do you want me to put her?”
Mary looked sheepish and in pain. “My ankle. I slipped and hurt my ankle.”
“On the settee.”
“You sure? She is all wet and muddy. I can take her to her bedroom.”
“Upstairs?” He had to be exhausted from carrying Mary home from who knew how far.
Mark came alongside Philip. “I can help.” They fashioned a chair with their arms and lifted her up the stairs.
Heather followed their slow climb. “Be careful not to slip, Philip. I am sure your shoes must be muddy.”
The boys lowered Mary to her bed and helped her to recline. She groaned as they gently brought her legs up to rest on the bed.
Heather searched Mary’s face. “What happened?”
“I was coming back from Martha’s, and I slipped and twisted my ankle in the mud.”
Philip panted. “I waited near the edge of the trees and saw her slip, so I got her home.”
Heather wrapped her arms around him. “You are a treasure.”
“Mrs. Stewart, I’m all wet.”
Mary stared at Philip with a sheepish look. “I’m grateful you were there to help me.”
Heather smoothed Mary’s wet hair away from her brow. “I am going downstairs to get a basin of water. Do not move. I will be right back.”
“Do not worry,” Mary said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The boys followed her downstairs.
Worry etched Philip’s face. “I will ride over and get Doc Edwards.”
“Nay, Philip, not now. The storm is so fierce. Go home so your mother knows you are safe and dry off. We can talk a bit later about getting the doctor.”
“I will be back in half an hour to check on her, Mrs. Stewart.”
“No need.” She opened the door and gazed at the sky. “’Tis let up a bit.”
“I will pray for Mary.” Philip headed to the Gordon cottage.
Douglas stood in the doorway and sobbed.
“No fretting. Mary will be fine. Will you stay with Sara while I take care of Mary?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Upstairs, Heather gently removed Mary’s soiled, wet garments. “Where do you hurt?”
“My right elbow aches where I fell, but mostly it is my left ankle.”
After Heather helped Mary into a clean shift, she checked the elbow and then ran her hand over Mary’s leg. “The elbow will likely bruise, but it has not swelled. Can you move your foot?”
Mary winced as she moved her leg and foot around.
“Your leg and ankle do not look broken, but Doctor Edwards will know. Did you hurt your head?” She ran her fingers through Mary’s wet, matted hair. “This could have been so much worse.” Heather dampened the rag again and began cleaning the area at the back of Mary’s head.
“The storm came up so fast. I came home as soon as the thunder began.”
“Given the strength of the storm, you should have stayed at the Whitcombs’ until it calmed. I am grateful your injuries are no worse. Thank heavens for Philip.”
Mary wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, a chagrined expression on her face. She raised her shift and peered at her leg. “The ankle is swelling.” She looked up. “I’m ashamed of how annoyed I have been by Philip’s constant hovering. If he had not been there ...”
Heather got up from the edge of Mary’s bed. “Someone would have come looking for you. I hear someone at the door, probably Philip.” She made her way downstairs and opened the door. “Oh, Thomas, ’tis you.”
He took his hat off. “Philip wanted to get Doc Edwards, but I told him to dry off, and I would go if you needed me to. How is Mary?”
“She is sore. I would like the doctor to look at her leg and ankle so we know what to do for her.”
“The storm has let up. I will go now. If he is home, we should be back soon.”
“Please thank Philip again for being nearby and rescuing Mary. He is a fine young man.”
Thomas smiled and nodded. “I should have figured he was waiting for her.”
Heather opened the door when Thomas and Doctor Edwards arrived a half hour later.
“’Twas good of you to come.”
Doctor Edwards walked into the center hall. “Sorry to hear of Mary’s fall.”
Thomas turned toward the door. “I’m taking the doc’s horse to the barn, then I’ll let Philip know Mary is being tended to. Let me know when you are ready to leave, doc, and I will get your horse.”
Heather ushered the doctor upstairs, then stood at Mary’s side while the doctor examined her ankle. “It looks like a sprain. I am going to wrap it. You stay off of your feet as best you can for a few days. Let me see your head.” He spent a couple of minutes looking at her eyes and then inspected the back of her head. “You are a fortunate young woman. I suspect you will have a goose egg and possibly a headache. ’Tis possible you may have some nausea.” He turned. “Have you some ginger?”
“Aye.”
“Make a tea and give her some of that if she gets sick to her stomach.”
He looked over her elbow and rotated her arm. “This looks like ’twill be sore and bruised, but ’tis not broken.”
Mary blushed. “I’m sorry I made you come out in this weather.”
Two hours later, Mark came through the kitchen door, took his hat off, and wiped his feet on the rug. “I saw Doctor Edwards leave when I came from the barn. How is Mary? Can I go up and see her?”
Heather passed on what the doctor had told her. “I am sure she would appreciate that. Sara is sleeping so keep the noise down. I will fix supper.”
Heather arranged a tray for Mary and took it to her room.
“I brought you some herb tea and a bowl of soup. Are you feeling any better?”
“I hurt,” she said, “and I’m not very hungry.”
Heather gently eased herself onto the bed. “Drink the ginger tea.”
Tears filled Mary’s eyes. “Mama, Mrs. Whitcomb is not well. When I arrived, she called me Elizabeth. At first, I thought it a simple mistake, but she did it again. Martha told me she sometimes calls out to Tobias and Timothy.”
Heather handed Mary a handkerchief. “I suspect Hannah suffers from depression. Perhaps that is what has beset her.”
“Martha said her mind wanders, and once she nearly set the kitchen on fire. I think they plan to keep her at home from now on. Martha fears if her mother does something bad, they might put her in an institution in Williamsburg.”
Heather gazed out the window. “An institution? They must be devastated.”
“Martha is very distressed. I feel sorry for her and her family. She thinks her mother might improve when Tobias comes home. But who knows when that might happen.”
Heather reached for Mary’s hand and held it. “There must be something we can do to help.” Almost dark now, the profile of the trees stood black against the indigo sky. “I hope Martha does not mind your sharing this sad news with me.”
“I asked her if I could, and she said yes. She knows you will not tell everyone.”
“We must keep their family in prayer. I will think about how I can help them.”
“Yes, and I will thank Philip again. I have not been as kind as I should have been.”
“It was a blessing he was there for you.”
Mary smirked. “When Philip saw me headed towards Martha’s, he asked when I would return. He would have carried my sewing basket all the way to Martha’s if I had asked him.”
“Poor Philip. It seems he is smitten with you.”
“I told him not to wait for me and suggested he go fishing with Mark and Todd. My concern was he would be setting buckets of fish at my feet when I returned.”
Heather laughed. “I fear someday, someone is going to take advantage of his kind heart. Now, drink your tea before it gets any cooler. ’Twill help you get a good night’s rest. Call me if you need me.”
CHAPTER 33
A fortnight later, Laura and Sara sat by the table playing while Heather, Polly, and Mary finished eating dinner. Thomas and the boys had taken the wheat to the mill to be ground into flour.
Polly set her fork down. “Did you hear something?”
Heather got up. “Sounds like a horse. It may be a guest.”
A Heart for Freedom: He longs for freedom, but won’t risk the lives of those he loves. Page 21