by Deeanne Gist
“We didn’t. I made the Indian boy who chopped off your braid give me something in return. He decided these furs the color of your hair would be a fair exchange.”
She buried her fingers in it, running them against the grain. “It’s stunning.”
“So is your hair.”
She smiled. “Oh, Drew, you’re such a peagoose.”
He opened up the fur, placing it across her shoulders.
“It’s a cape! And calf length! I thought it was a lap robe.”
He smiled, pulling the hood up over her head and tying the front closed.
She preened, looking down at the lovely contrast it made against the green of her skirt. “Perhaps I won’t need to take it off after all.”
He pulled her against him and gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Merry Christmas, love. Now, we needs must go. The others wait upon us.”
Outside, the eastern sun delved through the barren forest, scattering a profusion of tiny rainbows from the ice-covered branches to the earth’s crystal floor. A handsome young bird wearing a leaf-brown jacket and a white bib at the throat fluttered to a branch, emitting a lovely series of descending halftones in a clear, loud voice.
Cool air bathed Constance’s face, bringing the crisp, clean scent of winter with it. None of it, however, had the effect on her that the chair sled did.
Constructed of wide oak boards, the sled itself was nothing more than a chair on runners with a handle attached to the back for someone to push. But strewn across its sides and back were a series of yellow wild flowers woven together to form a garland of sorts. The daisylike flowers were no more than an inch in diameter but grew in clusters and were very numerous.
She fingered one, a delicate petal breaking off into her hand. “They’re beautiful. Wherever did you find them?”
“Josh spotted them on his walk home from the wharf. He only mentioned them because they don’t usually bloom this late in the season.”
She brought the petal to her nose. “What are they called?”
When he failed to reply, she looked up at him, noting the mixture of humor and consternation in his expression.
“What?” she asked.
“They’re called sneezeweed.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re jesting.”
“I wish I were.”
She bit the insides of her cheeks. “Do they make people sneeze?”
He hung his head, but suppressed laughter caused his shoulders to bounce. “For some.”
Laughter rippled from her lips, his low and throaty chuckle harmonizing with hers.
In that moment, when his crystal blue eyes held hers, when his straight white teeth contrasted pleasingly with his tanned face, when those deep dimples framed his smile, she knew once again. Knew there was no other place she’d rather be on Christmas Day or any other day than right here with Andrew Joseph O’Connor.
He extended a hand to her.
“I would have been happy to walk.”
“I don’t want you to take ill again.”
“Where did you get the sled?”
“I made it.”
“For me?” she asked, running her hands along its smooth surface.
He nodded.
“When?”
“Over the last month or so. Come. We needs must go.”
She put her hand in his and allowed him to settle her into the seat. He handed her a small pile of blankets, which she secured on her lap, then he placed a tin foot stove with fired charcoal at her feet. Removing one of the blankets from her lap, he draped it over her and the stove, effectively creating a cocoon of warmth.
Had she been in London, it would have been less than to what she was accustomed. But here, in this wilderness, with Drew the one attending to her, she felt much like the queen herself.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
“It’s wonderful, Drew. Thank you.”
He seemed to remember their audience then, and handing a musket to Thomas, positioned himself behind the sled. With him pushing, they, as well as Mary and the men, began their five-mile trek to church.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
So much had changed since she took ill six weeks ago. Winter had well and truly set in with remnants of snow here and there, icicles dangling overhead, and a frigid temperature numbing her cheeks. She saw no wildlife other than a few birds, but was once again humbled by the profusion of trees this land offered. Around every bend, there were more, reaching for the heavens with bare, knobby, ice-covered limbs.
And the sky. Lord have mercy, she’d never seen such a bright, rich blue stretching for miles with nary a cloud in sight. The absence of leaves on the trees stripped away all obstruction, allowing the blue wash overhead to envelope her within its magnificence.
The men all offered to help push her sled, but Drew wouldn’t hear of it, so they instead centered their attention on Mary, an air of festivity injected into their tones.
Constance smiled. So effectively had the men encircled her friend, each trying to outdo the other with clever remarks, that she was completely hidden from Constance’s view. At one point, Isaac walked backward in order to better catch her attention, only to stumble on a root and fall down with a resounding splat.
The other men made much of this display until Mary rushed forward to assist and ask after him. Through that one stunt alone, he had out-maneuvered every man there, and Constance delighted in watching their exasperated expressions, obviously wondering if Isaac had done it a’purpose.
They’d covered much ground now, and she expected to come upon the meetinghouse and perhaps other churchgoers at any time. She was laying her head back to question Drew when she realized he had slowed their progress to not much more than a crawl, falling well behind Mary and the others.
“What?” she asked.
He looked down, wiping the unease from his expression. “What?”
She twisted around in her seat. “What worries you?”
“Nothing!”
She smiled. “Do not pretend with me, Drew. Something is amiss. What is it?”
He allowed what little momentum they had to fizzle out.
She waited, but he shrugged and then set to the path again. “It was nothing. Really.”
Placing a hand on his, she gave it a gentle squeeze and he stopped.
“Of what were you thinking?”
“Everyone will be there.” He swallowed, avoiding her gaze.
“And ...?”
“And, everyone will see the chair sled.”
“And ...?”
He looked down at her. “And I can’t ever in all my days remember anyone arriving at church in a chair sled covered with sneezeweed.”
She bit her lip. “Would you like to take it off? I mind not.” She hesitated, then furrowed her brow. “I was, however, looking forward to Sally’s expression when she saw the flowers. Perhaps if we leave the garland here, we could retrieve it on our way back? She could see them then. What think you of that?”
It was clear he was still vacillating.
“I truly do not mind, Drew.”
He lifted his hat up, then resettled it upon his head. “Well, actually, I’ve...uh...never seen anyone under the age of eighty arrive in a chair sled.”
She widened her eyes. “Oh, my. Perhaps I’d best walk the rest of the way.”
He scowled and began pushing the sled again. “No. It matters not.”
“Drew, this is my first time to meet the community.” She heard the others backtracking, most likely to see what was keeping them. “I really have no desire to arrive in the same fashion as a grandmother. Pray, let us leave the sled here and I’ll walk.”
“Ho, there!” Thomas called. “All is well?”
Drew paused and Constance threw off her covers, scrambling out of the sled. “Actually, Thomas, I’d very much like to walk the rest of the way. Would you be so kind as to carry the foot stove? And perhaps some of you others could assist with these blankets?”
She had
the blankets dispersed and all in readiness before Drew had a chance to object, then watched him glance at the abandoned chair sled and Thomas. “Perhaps we should push this up behind the brush here so it won’t be in anyone else’s way if they happen along.”
Thomas lifted his brows but said not a word as he helped Drew hide the chair sled. Constance made sure she not so much as batted an eye. When they were on their way again, Drew slipped his hand into hers.
She looked up at him. “Thank you. I would have been most disconcerted to arrive in such a manner if it was inappropriate. I very much want to make a good impression.”
He pulled her against his side. “You could have arrived atop a wildcat and no one would have said a word. They will adore you.”
That was a gross untruth, but it mattered not. Only a man in love would say such a thing, and it warmed her through and through. She leaned against him and he gently squeezed her waist.
The steady beating of a drum reached Constance’s ears well before her first sight of the meetinghouse. About six times the size of their cottage, the long wooden structure commanded attention, mighty oaks and locust trees flanking its sides. From its yard came the mingled sounds of children shouting, loved ones greeting, the church drummer summoning, and that hum of life that denotes civilization.
Constance swept her gaze across the assembly of people, immediately noting the scarcity of women. Two she recognized from the boat, while a smattering of children ran betwixt and between those gathered. Her gaze ground to a halt on one particular man, the likes of which she’d never seen before.
He stood within a group, laughing and conversing together with them, dressed much in the same fashion as Drew, with doublet, jerkin, and matching breeches. What held her attention, though, was not his attire but the beautiful deep ebony color of his skin.
Having been cursed with freckles, she remained ever fascinated with people whose skin was smooth and flawless. This man’s was not only smooth and flawless but rich and glowing.
“Who’s that?” she whispered to Drew.
“Where?”
“The man with the black skin.”
“‘Tis Adam Lucas. He came to Virginia as an indentured servant some years ago and has since completed his service and owns a good piece of property north of here.” He glanced at her. “I suppose you’ve never seen a person with black skin. Most of the blacks haven’t been here as long as Lucas. In fact, he’s waiting for one particular woman to finish her indenture so he can marry her. He offered to buy out her contract, but her master wouldn’t sell it to him, much like I wouldn’t sell Mary’s if someone were to ask.”
“But he’s the only black-skinned person I see. Where are the others?”
“There aren’t that many, actually. The Royal African Company usually takes them to the West Indies or Brazil, where they bring in more money as slaves. We’ve not much use for slaves here. It’s less risky to buy an indentured servant’s labor for a few years than to gamble a lifetime investment in a slave who might die a few months after purchase.”
“Oh, Drew. I like not the idea of anyone being purchased, whether it’s cost effective or not.”
“Well, with indentured servants, we’re not really purchasing the person but their labor. Though, probably, you’re right about the other.” He moved her hand to the crook of his arm. “Lucas is a good man, good farmer. Honest and well respected amongst us. It would have been terrible for him had he been sold into slavery.”
“Drew!” Sally suddenly burst from the crowd, projecting herself straight toward them. Constance could see the green of her new outfit, soiled and wet beneath her overcoat.
Drew caught her up into his arms and swung her about. “Ah, pumpkin! How I’ve missed you.”
She locked her arms and legs about him, and the two remained tight within their embrace while a young woman approached, a babe nestled in her arms. “Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas, Nellie. How do you fare?”
Constance watched Drew bend to plant a kiss upon her cheek. Her eyes were the same clear blue as Drew’s but framed with light brown eyebrows and lashes. Her hair lay neatly tucked up inside her cap. Nellie immediately made an opening in her bundle, exposing the babe’s face, which scrunched up the moment the crisp air struck it. “Look. Isn’t he beautiful?”
Drew’s expression softened. “Ah, Nellie. He’s bald, pink, and has no teeth. What’s so beautiful about that?”
Nellie’s laugh tinkled out like musical chimes while she covered the babe back up and turned to face Constance. “Hello. I’ve heard much about you. Your cape is exquisite.”
“Thank you. Drew surprised me with it this morn.” She clasped her hands together. “Your son is, indeed, quite handsome.”
Sally lifted her head from Drew’s shoulder. “You woke up. I thought you go to heaven, but Grandma said no.”
Constance touched Sally’s leg. “And Grandma was right. I’m planning to stay here for a very long time. And look at you! I think you’ve grown a whole inch, and I see you’re wearing your new dress.”
“Can I pet your coat?”
Constance reached out and Sally went straight into her arms, rubbing her face and hands against the fur. The child’s weight felt so good, so right. Constance hugged her a little more tightly, then smiled to see Grandma emerge from the peripherals.
“Well, it looks as if this will, indeed, be a very happy Christmas,” the old woman greeted. “How do you fare, Constance?”
She answered positively while Grandma linked her arm around Drew’s waist. “Thought you didn’t like red hair.”
One of Drew’s dimples kicked in as he draped an arm about Grandma’s shoulder. “Must have me confused with someone else, but I’m not surprised. Seems to happen to most of the older set at some point or other.”
That was the last exchange made before they were sucked into the crowd. Drew took Sally from her arms, all the while introducing her to farmer, after farmer, after farmer. Nellie eventually commandeered her away from Drew’s side and introduced her to some of the women.
All nodded politely and allowed her to stand in their circle, but she found she had not much to say as they discussed cooking and babies and the tobacco seedlings they evidently nursed within their cottages. She wondered where Drew’s were and if she was supposed to be nurturing them.
She scanned the crowd for him and found him staring at her. My, oh my, but he was easy on the eyes. She gave him an intimate smile. With Sally no longer in his arms, he excused himself and headed her way.
He’d made it almost halfway when behind her the word sneezeweed caught her attention. She turned an ear to the group of men.
“You jest! Why would Apperson put sneezeweed on their chair sled?”
“Perhaps it doesn’t affect Apperson’s granny and she wished to have her chair bedecked.”
“But Apperson hates the stuff. Can’t get near it without sneezing his head off,” a new voice interjected.
“No, it wasn’t Apperson’s sled. It looked brand new.”
“Who else would need one?”
“What about you, Josh? You’ve got a granny.”
“Wasn’t us,” she heard Josh reply. “You know how Grandma loves to hike through these woods. Besides, she’d never do such a fool thing. Sneezeweed on a chair sled. What rubbish.”
“Then who else would need one?”
“Maybe it wasn’t for a granny,” someone suggested.
Silence fell amongst them. “What mean you?”
“Well, it was hidden, I tell you. Would’ve missed the thing if it hadn’t been for little Henry stumbling upon it by accident.”
“But why?”
“I’m thinkin’ one of the men with a new tobacco bride sought to impress his maid and wanted not to be discovered.”
Murmurs rippled. “Impress his maid? With sneezeweed?!”
Many guffaws. “Who do you suppose it was?”
Constance stiffened, recognizing that Josh had voiced
the question.
“Perhaps it was your brother, O’Connor. He ’as a new bride.”
“Sensible Drew? Unflappable Drew?” Josh responded. “I hardly think so.”
Constance threw a look at Drew, words of warning on her lips. But it was too late. The men had waylaid him, greeting him and pulling him into their midst.
“You’ll never guess what we discovered, O’Connor. A chair sled.”
“My, what an exciting morning you’ve had, Caskie.”
A few chuckles reverberated before the Caskie fellow continued. “No, no. Not just any chair sled. But a newly constructed one...covered with sneezeweed. Now, you wouldn’t be knowing anything about that, would you?”
“Caskie, it’s addled you are. Why would anyone put a garland of sneezeweed on a chair sled?”
“A garland?” piped in another voice. “Who said anything about a garland?”
Constance slid her eyes shut, mortified as the men closed in on their prey, all speaking at once. “Was it a garland, Caskie?” “Look, O’Connor’s turning red, he is.” “By Pharoah, Drew, did you do that?” “What’s amiss, O’Connor? Yer lady love need a‘sweetening?” “She must, for ’tis a new fur cape she’s a‘wearing today as well.” “Fur and sneezeweed. You sure know the way to a lady’s heart, O’Connor.”
And on it went, the laughter and jesting growing louder by the moment. Constance shifted her feet. The women within her circle, she noticed, had at some point begun to listen as well and now all looked at her, their expressions froth with curiosity.
Nellie cocked her head. “Well, Constance. It’s pleased I am. Grandma told me he fancied you, but I believed her not. I’ve been feeling quite guilty, for it was because of me that Grandma left, forcing him to purchase a bride. I see all those hours of worry were for naught. Did he push you in that chair sled all the way here?”
Constance nodded, noting some of the women’s expressions softened, while others were tinged with a bit of good-natured humor. The men behind them teased Drew mercilessly, all of which he seemed to take in good sport, turning their jests about until he’d managed to move the focus to someone else.
In the next moment, he stood by her side, placing his hand against her waist. His face was still rather flushed, and Nellie didn’t let it go by. “Sneezeweed, Drew?”