Later, as they all gathered around the large table, Matthew offered a prayer before they began passing the food around.
Mary smiled. “While you were upstairs, Mr. Macmillan told us he received word from James.”
“Oh, that is wonderful. How is he?” Heather asked.
“He is now a lieutenant and serving on the Alfred, a thirty-gun converted merchant ship. James joined the ship before they headed to Nassau in the West Indies. They took Fort Montague and recovered some of the powder and armaments they believe Dunmore stole from the Williamsburg magazine. They also took two British ships before they took a serious hit from the HMS Glasgow. It forced them to New London, Connecticut, in April for repairs, additional crew, and a new captain.”
Mary looked relieved at Andrew’s news. “May I tell Martha Whitcomb? She has been so concerned for him.”
Matthew studied Mary. She had grown quite comely, and there was a new softness about her. Evidently, her wounded relationship with Martha had healed.
Andrew pulled a small sealed parchment from his waistcoat. “You can do more than that. You can give Martha this note James included in my letter.” He handed it to her.
“I will.”
Heather smiled at Mary and Andrew. “’Tis relief to know he is well. When you write to James, do give him all our best.”
Thomas reached for the bread. “How is he finding life at sea?
“Other than being at war, he said it has been an education, meeting and working with all kinds of people he had no exposure to in the past.”
The men and boys continued their conversation while Mary took Sara upstairs to put her to bed. Later, after the younger children fell asleep, the others gathered around the large fire in the common room, catching up on the events of the past eleven months.
Andrew stood and squared his shoulders. “I believe you are gaining strength, Matthew. You hardly needed me to get downstairs. ’Tis my intention to travel back to Fredericksburg tomorrow. I have been absent a long time.”
Matthew stood in front of their friend, extending his arm. “There are no words to express my deepest gratitude to you, Andrew, for all you have done to aid and encourage my family these past months, as well as your valiant efforts to find and assist me in returning home.” The two men embraced.
Polly picked up Laura and motioned to Todd and Philip. “I think we will head back to the cottage and let the Stewarts get the rest they need after this incredible day.”
Matthew turned to the group. “I’m indebted to all of you for everything you have done for my family in my absence. I will be indebted to you for the remainder of my life.”
CHAPTER 37
The next morning, while the boys and Matthew still slept, Heather carried Sara downstairs. Voices came from the kitchen.
Heather entered. “’Tis a crisp October morn, Mary ... Andrew.” She put Sara on the floor near the toy crate.
Mary was slicing bread. “’Tis. I was just about to gather the eggs.”
Andrew sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the Gazette.
When Mary opened the kitchen door, Philip was on the stoop with a basket of eggs. He handed Mary the basket. “I gathered the eggs for you so you could be with your pa.”
“That was thoughtful. Here, you take some for your family.” She reached up for another basket and placed some of the eggs in it.
“You are nice.”
Her shoulders sagged for a moment. “’Tis the least I can do since you collected them.” Mary watched as he turned and made his way around the side of the Green. She set the basket on the counter.
Heather pointed to a pot. “Please feed Sara. There is some porridge over there.”
Andrew looked up from reading the paper. “The Gazette is full of meetings between General Washington, members of the Congress, and General Howe. It sounds like Britain has not yet accepted the fact we are a free nation and no longer under their control. They continue to hope we will recognize the error of our ways and return to the fold.”
Mary struggled getting the porridge into Sara’s mouth. The tot only wanted to play and maneuver the spoon herself. “Perhaps they want to end the war with us, so they will take their troops and return to England.”
Andrew’s laugh sounded sarcastic. “Wishful thinking, Mary. No, they will not give up all their holdings here without a serious fight.”
Matthew opened his eyes and looked around. Alive, sleeping in his own bed, living with his family. Could life be any better? He washed and dressed and headed toward the stairs. He reached for the banister and stepped slowly down each tread, then crossed the common room to the kitchen.
He entered to see Heather working by the window and Andrew seated at the table. Mary was slicing fresh apples, while Sara played on the floor. “’Twas so good to be home, I obviously slept later than all of you.”
Mary looked up and smiled. “Papa!”
Sara echoed her sister’s enthusiasm. “Papapapapa!”
Heather rushed to his side. “You came downstairs by yourself? You look better than you did yesterday.”
“’Tis what rest and decent food will do for a body.” After receiving a kiss from his eldest daughter and ruffling Sara’s curls, he sat across from Andrew. “Good day, everyone.”
Heather brought fried ham and eggs.
Andrew set the paper down. “This is it, news of the fire in New York. But ’tis hardly covered at all. More space is given to stray mares and cows.”
Heather poured coffee. “Perhaps it bodes well if there is no mention of escaped prisoners as a result of the fire.”
Matthew shook his head. “There was so much confusion that night, people everywhere. It would be easy to believe the prisoners perished in the fire.”
Heather sat beside him. “Do you think someone may come looking for you?”
Mary’s eyes grew wide.
He took Heather’s hand. “No. I think not.”
Andrew stood. “I agree. The British in New York have more to worry about than one escaped prisoner. ’Tis time for me to leave. Philip is outside, so I will have him saddle Stirling.”
Mark and Douglas came into the kitchen.
Douglas climbed onto Matthew’s lap. “I missed you, Papa.”
He ruffled his son’s hair. “I missed you too.”
The whole family accompanied Andrew outside.
Matthew hugged him. “Good-bye, my friend. I will be forever thankful for all you have done for me and my family.”
“I’m grateful to have played a small part in your happy ending.”
Matthew stood next to Heather, placing his arm around her. She leaned in, a sensation he had dreamed about for months. They watched as Andrew rode away from the Green. When he disappeared around a bend, they returned to the kitchen.
Mary handed Sara the spoon and the bowl, and the room filled with her thumping music and splashed porridge. “Papa, was the man who exposed you to the British soldiers the same Mr. Cranford who came here looking for you in June of last year?”
He turned to Heather and listened as Heather reminded him of her encounter with Mr. Cranford.
Mary sat at his side. “After you disappeared, I visited the Duncans. Jean and I were in town and ran into Mr. Whitney and Mr. Cranford. During our conversation, Mr. Cranford stared at me the whole time. He and Mr. Whitney are both Loyalists.”
He looked out the window. He wanted to be honest, yet he still needed to be cautious about what he shared. “He came to the Green and spoke to me once.”
Heather cocked her head. “What about?”
He shook his head. “Cranford wanted to enlist my services in support of the Loyalists. I believe Cranford later suspected my mission.”
Mark gasped. “Perhaps it was Cranford who broke into the Green.”
“What?” Matthew’s gaze snapped to Heather. “A break-in? When did that happen? Were you home?”
Heather placed her hand on his and told him all the details of the ransacking
of their property.
“The whole place was a mess,” Douglas added.
Matthew shook his head. “If the culprit was Cranford, he no doubt was searching for one of the packets, evidence to use against me. Thank God you were absent at the time.” There was so much he had missed.
Mark grabbed a biscuit. “Mr. Duncan put new locks on, Papa. No one was hurt.”
Mary passed the plate of biscuits to him. “Mr. Duncan and Mr. Macmillan went so many places looking for you, Pa.”
“I’m grateful to our many friends who assisted you and tried to locate me.”
“Here, Mark.” Heather came around the table with more eggs. “I think we need to let your father eat his breakfast. We do not need to review the past eleven months today.”
Mary continued to stare at him. “Mama said you believed you needed to help the Patriot cause. That was why you left, but you might have died. You will not do that again, will you?”
He looked around the table. All eyes were on him. They deserved an answer. “I was approached for a specific mission because I had some helpful connections, and I was the best person to carry it out without raising suspicion or being identified. I never sought to get involved with this fight. But many others have put their lives in peril to win our independence. Should I stand by and let others sacrifice and take all the risks if I’m not willing to help?” He studied each of them. “I do not foresee a situation like this coming again, but I cannot promise what the future will demand of me or any of us. No one knows how long this war will last. Young men like Donald Duncan, James Macmillan, Tobias Whitcomb, and many others throughout the colonies are fighting to protect our freedoms. We have an obligation to support them, pray for them ... possibly take up arms with them.”
Heather gazed at him, her eyes brimming with admiration and love. None of them wanted this war, but liberty would not come without a cost. Strange. Instead of feeling weary, he was energized.
“Pa, what was it like in prison?” Mark asked. “Did they torture you?” The expression on his son’s face suggested he longed to know but dreaded the answer.
There were elements of his imprisonment he might never share. “They did not torture me, but I also could not anticipate from one day to the next if it might begin. They were brutal with some prisoners.” He sat back in the chair and glanced to where Douglas and Sara sat at the far end of the room. “I suspect those of us jailed in that building were treated better than some prisoners. From what I understand, they did not have much in the way of evidence against us but were holding us until they would determine how, or if, we were involved with subversive activities.”
Heather stood. “Mary, Mark, please watch Douglas and Sara while your father and I take a walk around the farm.”
“Yes, Mama,” Mary said.
Heather flushed. “Do you feel like taking a walk, dear? I should not have presumed—”
“I would like nothing more.” He stood, and his eyes met hers as a slow smile formed. In truth, he longed for time alone with her.
Heather reached for her shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders.
At the door, he said, “Which way?”
She nodded to the right, the path leading to the pond.
He breathed in the fresh fall air. “I suspect I will need to harvest the corn.”
Heather pointed to the left. “You will be relieved to know most of the harvesting has been completed. Thomas, his boys, and Mark have been busy.”
He followed her gaze and stopped at the split rail fencing and looked about. “I see.” He turned and faced her. “I cannot tell you how often over these last months I have longed to be back in these beautiful rolling green hills.”
“I will never be able to tell you how much you were missed.”
He took her hand, slipping his fingers between hers, and pulled her close. “The children, how often I prayed for them and for you, to keep you safe and at peace.”
For minutes they just held each other. Having her in his arms brought a lump to his throat. He could have lost all of this.
He glanced again toward the path leading left. “How are the Whitcombs?”
She informed him of the changes at their neighbor’s home.
They passed by the open barn door. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the walls as well as the open top of the Dutch door opposite them.
“Everything looks the same, as if I had never left.”
“I think not. I would have been lost without Thomas and the boys’ help and without Polly’s constant friendship and assistance.” She looked up at him with those blue eyes he could drown in. “Shall we keep walking, dear, or do you want to rest?”
“Keep going ... to the bench at the pond.” He took her hand as they made their way down the path. She was really there beside him, walking with him, something he had longed for and feared would never happen again. I will never stop thanking You, Lord, for all you have restored to me.
Heather answered all his questions about neighbors. When they reached the far end of the wheat field yet to be harvested, he placed one foot on the bottom rail of the fence and leaned on the top. “Was there a good crop?”
“Aye, very good. Again, we were fortunate. All pitched in to help. Even Andrew assisted when he was here.”
Matthew sighed. “I am indebted to so many.” He faced her. “It appears you all did quite well without me.”
“Nay, Matthew. We never do well without you. We suffered and felt your absence every day. But God was good. He has been faithful and provided what we needed when we needed it. He gave us good weather, a healthy crop, and most of all, good friends who prayed for us and offered encouragement and assistance. I will never forget that.”
He slipped his arms around her, holding her close. It thrilled him to hear the beating of her heart. Lifting her chin, he leaned down and kissed her, and kissed her again. He cared not whether the family, the Gordons, or anyone else saw them in such an intimate embrace.
Heather looked up at him. ’Twas not a dream, he was really home. “Are you tired?”
“A little, but not enough to go back.” He smiled at her.
They walked to the pond and sat on the bench, still holding hands. Geese at the far end splashed in the water and fluffed their feathers, while others sat on the bank preening. Many of the trees had rained golden and amber leaves. This was where she came to think, to pray. This was the place they came to talk.
Matthew rubbed her cheek with his hand. “And what has you so deep in thought?”
“How much this spot means to me. Think of all the times we shared here.”
He laughed. “I remember ... it must be about six years ago now, also in the fall, when I returned from selling the Philadelphia property to help you get established on your own. We took a walk around the farm. I was so proud of the way you had maintained it. We ended up here. I was desperately in love with you and hated the possibility of losing you, but I needed to set you free to find out if you wanted to stay.”
“Oh, Matthew, that was so long ago, and our problems were nowhere near as serious as the world we face today. Tell me, was what you told the children about your captivity true? I sensed there was more you were not sharing with us.”
He rubbed his chin.
She bit her lip. She should not have brought up the prison again so soon.
“I have said all I care to about that time. I want to forget those months.” The furrow on his brow overshadowed his tentative smile.
It must have been terrible. She reached for his hand, holding it in both of hers. Honoring his request might prove challenging.
“I did not mean to be gruff.” He took her in his arms again, kissing her gently on her forehead. “I clung to Scripture, and it strengthened me. ‘It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness.’”
“I depended on His Word also. And I was thankful for your letters.” She brought his hand to her
lips and kissed it. “Do you think we have a chance against England?”
“’Twill not be easy, and the cost may be great, but I believe and support the principles set forth in the Declaration of Independence. Our cause is just, and I believe we all must be willing to support those who are fighting to secure our freedoms.”
“I am proud to be your wife, Matthew Stewart. I am so grateful for the life and family we have here. Whatever the future holds, with God’s help, we will face it together.”
The Revolutionary War will rage on for another seven years as a new nation is birthed. Lives will be changed, and the war will exact its toll. Battles sometimes extend beyond the end of a war. The story continues in the final book in the trilogy.
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A Heart for Freedom: He longs for freedom, but won’t risk the lives of those he loves. Page 24