The Old Cape Teapot

by Barbara Eppich Struna

  Soon after boarding the ship on his first voyage unattended, he was confident that he would be fine. It would be a short sail, landing by late afternoon. The young man eagerly reached for the railing with anticipated excitement of being on his own. But his body cringed as thoughts of freedom and adventure collided with words from his dead grandmother: ”You are just like your father, a boorish oaf.” Ezekiel shook his head, trying to free his mind of these thoughts, reminding himself that he was a good person; he wasn’t anything like his father. He never even knew him. The muscles in his neck tightened once more recalling his mother’s threats as a child. “Behave yourself or your inheritance will amount to nothing.” Ezekiel quickly regained his composure. He was determined to push on, be independent and begin a new chapter in his life. And what about his father? He was curious and wanted answers.

  As the boat made its docking at Barnstable Harbor, Ezekiel stretched his body up and craned his neck to find James Twinning, his friend from Yale College. James knew of the location of the old Davis house and offered his assistance in guiding his friend around the small community of Yarmouth. When he caught sight of James, he bounded down the plank and shouted, “How goes it?” He shook his friend’s hand as if he was pumping water from a well.

  James returned the greeting with a one handed embrace and a pat on the back. “Good to see you, Ezekiel.” With a wave of his hand, he said, “Come! Mother is waiting with dinner and ale.” After climbing into the cart that would take them to the Twinning residence, James added, “First thing in the morning, you shall see your inheritance.”

  And once again, the young man from Boston enjoyed the sweet taste of freedom.

  ***

  The next morning, the sun shone into the second floor bedroom where Ezekiel lay dreaming. The smell of spicy smoked meat woke him. He sat up in bed, happy and excited. After slipping on his socks, shoes, and breeches, he dashed down the steep stairs, ready for an adventure.

  “Morning, Mrs. Twinning!”

  “Morning, Ezekiel, I take it you slept well?”

  Fastening the last button on his pants, he answered, “Yes, Ma’am!”

  “James is already in the barn, tending to your rides.”

  He stood by the hearth waiting politely to be invited to partake of the delicious-looking biscuits and meat.

  Mrs. Twinning gave a little laugh and said, “Go on, take what you like and get yourself out to the barn. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He grabbed his breakfast and exited the back door.

  Within an hour, the two friends found themselves on the winding highway laughing about their past school adventures. Soon the top of two chimneys on the bayside could be seen as they rounded a bend.

  “We’re almost there,” said James and he flicked the reins of his horse to speed up. Ezekiel followed suit.

  Brambles covered the stonewall that flowed across the edges of the property, separating it from the road. Thickets and wild bayberry bushes hindered their passage to the house, but the two men continued on undiscouraged. Ezekiel was first to approach the entrance to the old Davis estate. He was cautious, careful to sidestep a hole in the raised wooden landing of the threshold. The door was unlocked. He stepped in. There was little furniture throughout the house. The few pieces that were scattered about one room sat ghostlike in the dusty sunbeams that filtered through the dirty windows.

  James smiled, “I thought it would be much worse.”

  Ezekiel covered his nose. “How could this have happened? It seems so depressing.”

  “Well, it’s been abandoned for nigh twenty some years.” James wandered into an adjacent room.

  “Yes, but I thought….” Ezekiel’s eyes caught site of a tall cabinet against the far wall, its filthy covering hung to one side. He yanked at the faded material. As it fluttered to the floor in a cloud of dust, a blue and white teapot and other small pieces of matching china revealed themselves behind the old glass. Surprised at the sight of these elegant pieces among such filth, he walked closer to the glassed enclosure to examine them. “James, come look.

  His curious friend crossed the room and joined him. He shook his head. “I wonder what else is hiding in this wretched place?”

  Behind them was a large rectangular shape with a rounded surface. James grabbed at its ashen cover and revealed a roll top desk. Ezekiel pushed past him and tried to open the drawers and topside but to no avail. The desk was locked tight with no key in sight. Ezekiel looked for something to pry it open. Also seeking a tool, James turned and walked past the main stairway and into the kitchen. Ezekiel ran his hands over the ridges of the top and then inspected its sides. He walked around its perimeter.

  James called out from the rear of the house, “I found something,” and returned with a poker in hand.

  “That will do,” Ezekiel said and took hold of the iron rod. “Could this hold any answers about my father?”

  The desk opened with only a slight nudge from the iron wedge. Ezekiel dropped the poker on the floor, brushed his hands together, and slowly lifted the accordion shaped cover. Inside was a leather book, along with an inkwell and quill pen. He carefully picked the book up; its pages yellowed but not brittle.

  “Is there anything written?” asked his friend.

  “It seems to be a ledger for transactions, compiling everyday household activities.”

  James walked around the desk to have a look.

  Ezekiel pointed to one entry and read it aloud. “September 5, 1721…10 lbs of flour...1 shilling.”

  Leafing through the rest of the journal, he scanned the pages for anything that would give him clues about his father and what kind of man he might have been.

  Both men were so intent in their study of the ledger’s contents that they never heard the swish of a skirt enter the open door behind them.

  “Greetings,” said a soft voice.

  They turned together to see a beautiful young woman standing just inside the foyer.

  James flew to her side. “Lydia! What are you doing here?”

  “James Twinning, I might ask you the same question.” She took his hand in a friendly clasp.

  “Lydia Smith, I want you to meet a good friend of mine from school. He happens to be the proud owner of this dilapidated house.”

  Ezekiel closed the book and tossed it back into the desk, unaware of dislodging a folded piece of vellum from the tight hold of the pages. It stuck out from the bottom corner of the ledger. He closed the desktop and focused his attention on the lovely Lydia.

  Walking over to her, he politely extended his hand, bowed in respect and introduced himself. “Ezekiel Davis, miss.”

  Lydia returned a curtsy. “Why, it is a pleasure, Mr. Davis.” With twinkling eyes and a delicate smile, she asked, “Now tell me, what are you two doing here?”

  James piped up, “My good friend plans on living here. After all, it’s his family’s house. We’re all going to be neighbors.”

  “You jest, surely? This place does not seem habitable.” She took her handkerchief and covered her nose.

  “You may be surprised at what I can accomplish, once I put my mind to an idea,” Ezekiel said as he glanced around at the empty rooms surrounding them.

  James sat on the bottom step of the center stairway. “Lydia, you never answered my question. What are you doing here?”

  “I saw your horses and my curiosity got the better of me. I’ve always wondered about this old house and who had lived here. My brother Isaac and I would explore this old place whenever he was home from the plantation.” She looked straight at Ezekiel. “Of course, now I am privy to that very information.”

  Embarrassed at her question for not knowing the ‘what and why’ of his past, Ezekiel quickly changed the subject. “Some other time, Miss Smith. I must beg your leave; I have so many things to do before the week is finished.”

  He signaled James with his eyes that it was time for her to go.

  “Oh, yes.” James jumped
up and headed toward their surprise guest. “Lydia.” He held her elbow and began to usher the young woman out of the door, “I’m sure we’ll make your acquaintance again. I’ll see to that. Tell your parents I wish them well.”

  ***

  Ezekiel returned to his father’s house alone the next day. Rain fell from the edges of its cedar roof like waterfalls as he ran to the safety of the open porch. He pushed in the heavy door to wait for the man who Constable Maker had retained to watch over the Davis house after the death of his father. From within his knapsack, he withdrew several candles and positioned them around the room. They cast long flickering shadows against the faded walls from the dark of the rainstorm.

  His enthusiasm was not dampened by the gloominess that surrounded him. He smiled, thinking of the tasks that were ahead of him. He longed for doing good, solid work with his hands, far from the elitist society of Boston. As rain pelted the windows across the front of the house, his interest turned to the roll top desk. He was anxious to continue his search for any information concerning the father he never knew.

  The rain slowed for a short time and a soft knock interrupted his scanning of the old ledger. An elderly black man appeared in the doorway. “Mister Davis?”

  Ezekiel stepped towards the open door. “Yes.”

  “The constable said you wanted to meet with me.”

  “Come in. Come in.” The new owner gestured for him to come in.

  Brown, gnarled fingers took a strong hold around the young man’s hand. “My name is Tobey, sir.”

  “Good to meet you, Tobey.” He stood tall and with a broad smile across his face, entreated the old man, “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything about this wonderful house that will soon be my home.”

  Tobey took a deep breath and chose his words carefully, then motioned for Ezekiel to follow him. Ezekiel trailed Tobey up the stairs to the third floor, where Hephzibah had once slept and lived as housekeeper to the Davis household. Tobey gave what information Hephzibah had related to him and kept his personal feelings hidden. He talked about the structure of the house and the activities that had occurred in each room.

  When they reached the study, back on the main floor, the rain finally stopped. The sun began its set in the west and cast an orange glow across the horizon and through the windows. The old man looked tired in the fading light. Ezekiel well understood the strain of travelling. He knew that Tobey had come from the western edge of Yarmouth, near Sandwich, to the Davis house, a good three-hour ride. Tobey stretched his arms up and rubbed his head and then his eyes. “Would it be to your liking if I sleep here till the morning?”

  Ezekiel was beginning to grow fond of this gentle man and smiled. “Of course, I intend to do the same thing.” Both eager to retire for the night, they started towards the door to retrieve their supplies that were tied to their mounts.

  Tobey asked, “Shall I bed the horses down in the barn, sir?”

  “Yes, let me help you.” Outside, they walked together around the house to the back. “So you said that you slept in the barn when you first came here?”

  “That I did.”

  “I hope they fed you well?”

  “Yes, they did. That’s how I met my Hephzibah. She worked for Mister Davis, your father. She’s a fine cook.” He opened the barn door, turned to Ezekiel and with a wink said, “Always had an eye for her and still do.”

  As night darkened the sky, the two men settled into their bedding. Tobey lay there, remembering the day he escaped from the Davis house with Hephzibah. Best keep those thoughts to himself, he decided; no need to stir up any resentment or anger. Mister Ezekiel seems like such a nice young man, not anything like his father.

  The next day, Tobey left for home by early morning. It had been a good meeting between him and the young Davis. He could hardly wait to tell Hephzibah the good news. As he came close to the house, he rounded a bend in the road and could see her taking down clothes from the outside line. How he loved that woman.

  Hephzibah saw her partner riding along the pathway out of the corner of her eye. She offered a welcoming wave but quickly returned to her laundry. The rain had left most of the clothes damp.

  Once Tobey had settled his horse in the barn, he approached Hephzibah. Happy to be home, Toby moved nearer to her and pecked her on the cheek. “Always working so hard.”

  She returned a quick smile and continued checking the shifts and skirts for dryness.

  “What’s to eat?” Tobey asked.

  “There’s a stew simmering. You go on in, and I’ll be there soon.”

  “Sounds delicious.” He started for the door and then turned around. “I have something important to tell you.”

  Hephzibah stopped. “What is it?”

  “Let’s eat first. I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”

  Eager to hear his news, she looked back to the rope that held the moist clothes then shook her head in disgust at having to prolong her chores. Most of the laundry will need to hang another day. After finding only a few more dry pieces for her basket, she followed Tobey into the house.

  The hearty smell of savory meat and vegetables wafted throughout the kitchen. Before the bowls were placed on the table, Hephzibah asked again, “What’s your news?”

  “Well, my dear, our future is secure.”

  Hephzibah slowly sat down.

  Tobey continued, “Young Mister Davis has asked if we would be interested in coming to work for him. Me around the house and you where you reign supreme…by the hearth.”

  She began to cry.

  Tobey held her hand. “I hope those tears are for joy and not sadness?”

  Hephzibah looked at him. “These past months I’ve been so worried about what was going to happen to us.”

  “I understand. I’ve been bothered by it too,” Tobey said.

  “I thought my brothers would let us live here after father’s death.” She got up to spoon the stew into their bowls. “And now they want to sell. I can’t blame them.” She sat once more at the table.

  “I agree,” Tobey added. “One can’t forget that they were kind enough to let us stay for a while at least.” He held both of her hands.

  “I never thought father would do this to me, leaving me only the linens, bedding, and household items, as is the custom.” Hephzibah shook her head. “It’s a terrible practice in my eyes and a misfortune for any faithful daughter. Inevitably she is left with no place to put her cherished items.”

  Tobey leaned closer over the table. “We’ll be fine.” He touched her cheek. “These many years that we’ve been together have been such a time of love for me. We may not be sanctioned by a reverend but we’re blessed with each other.” He sat back against his chair, “I’m grateful for that,” then looked eagerly at his bowl of stew. “Mister Davis has given us a month to prepare.”

  Hephzibah’s shoulders relaxed as she pulled her plate closer and began to eat.

  Tobey scooped up a tasty bite. “You need not worry. Mister Ezekiel is a gentle man, in the true sense of those words.”

  A smile of relief slowly grew across her face.

  ***

  1749 - Three Years Later

  YARMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS

  Lydia Smith checked the final preparations for her wedding day. She paused to admire a lovely silver tureen from her father. Hephzibah and Tobey had followed her instructions perfectly. Tomorrow was going to be the happiest day of her young life.

  Ezekiel came into the front parlor where their wedding gifts were on display. “My darling, you’re so beautiful.”

  “Thank you, my future husband.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  “It was a lucky day when you wandered into my life, three years ago,” he said and kissed her in return. “Soon we’ll be together as one. I can hardly wait to hear the laughter and patter of little feet echoing through this wonderful old house. I love you.”

  Behind them, the delicate blue and white teapot, nestled on a shelf within the old glass
cabinet, seemed to look upon them with approval. The leather books from Ezekiel’s father sat next to the beautiful matching china pieces. They had become symbols of his past. It was all that was left of Thomas Davis.

  As the two lovers held each other, Lydia and Ezekiel savored this special moment of complete happiness. Tomorrow would be a new beginning for both of them.

  26

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  TOMMY PUT HIS BEER on the Formica countertop. The yellow speckles of the kitchen counter’s surface matched the crumbs and dried food stuck to a stack of dirty dishes. He walked down the hallway past his old bedroom and reached for a chain hanging from the ceiling. A set of steps lowered from above his head. He grabbed the ladder’s roped railing and climbed up. Too tall for the small opening, he ducked his head and stepped onto the plywood flooring that covered the open spaces between the rafters. Light from a tiny window vent lit his way as he swatted at cobwebs strung across the eaves above his head. A single light bulb hung from the center of the room. He pulled the chain that dangled under it and saw a cardboard box in the corner.

  The last time he was in this attic, he’d found the china dishes that he took to the antique store. They were the only things that had looked valuable to him at the time, unlike the box that he was now staring at, filled with rags. Tommy bent over and lifted the yellowed material; and underneath he found two old books. He held the larger one closer to the light. Its crackled leather had separated itself from the binding. Tommy began rifling through the brittle pages for anything that could tell him about his past, at least more than he knew now. To his disillusionment, there were only lists upon lists of household purchases from the Thomas Davis household of Yarmouth, Massachusetts 1720-1722.