She sat up, straightened her shawl and looked around at the people below her. She noticed a man sitting in the far corner of the crowded church with similar mannerisms and a strong resemblance to her father; her smile fell off her face. Why did her father hate her so? He made her life so unbearable. How happy she had been with her mother. She winced as pain shot through her shoulder and neck, wishing she had rubbed salve across her bruise.
Glimpses of her past came to life in her thoughts. She pictured herself helping her sick mother at only seven years of age. As young as she was, she never forgot what was needed for her mother, yet she forgot her own medicine this morning.
Maria had always tried her best to care for her mother but it wasn’t enough. When she had needed help she called on Minda, the Indian midwife. Her mother believed in the old Indian and accepted her comfort both in words and medicines. While they both loved Minda, Thomas Hallett hated everything about her. Even now, Maria must still hide Minda’s herbs and potions from her father. He despised them, calling her Indian ways ‘abracadabra’.
Lately, Maria missed the PowWah’s visits and the little gifts she brought her. The bouquets of flowers, beautiful shells from the sea, and scented waters meant so much to Maria. She wondered if Minda would come soon.
“…and the Lord hath said, ‘Work is blessed, and idleness is the work of the devil’....” Reverend Treat’s loud preaching startled Maria and she snapped open her eyes. Quickly glancing from side to side, she tried to see if anyone had seen her daydreaming. Thankfully, the congregation seemed to be lost in their own worlds. Once again her gaze settled upon those meeting below her. She saw where the Hallet family had sat for services before her mother had died. She gently massaged her throbbing shoulder and thought very quietly: Why does father blame me for everything? I’m his daughter, not his servant! Mother always said I was a gift from God. Why can’t he think of me like that?
Reverend Treat’s words became distorted and she was sure she heard him scolding her, “Obey your father!” She shook her head but the words then twisted into her father’s accusing voice. He growled that Maria’s birth had made his wife weak and caused her to spiral into bouts of sickness, and eventually death. His condemnations echoed in her head; “What am I to do? You’re nothing but a burden.”
Maria began to feel sick in her stomach at the image of how he always soothed his rage with his drink. When he was drunk she oftentimes feared for her life. Maria furrowed her brow and searched deep inside her heart for pleasant memories. She recalled her mother humming while baking at the broad table, flour swirling around in the sunlight; her mother’s wispy hair feathering out from under her linen cap. She’d always felt so safe with her mother.
“Maria, wake up.” Matthew, who was sitting beside her, gently shook her shoulder.
“Ohhh,” Maria winced at his touch.
Alarmed, her young friend asked, “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“Oh.... Yes,” she answered. As she leaned down to readjust her stocking, her handkerchief puffed away from her neck and revealed the bluish mark on her skin.
“Maria, what happened to you? Did your father do this?”
“It’s nothing,” she whispered, moving the cloth over to hide the bruise. “I hit my shoulder on the lug pole when I was cleaning the ashes from the hearth.”
“Do be more careful, Maria. May I walk home with you today?”
“Of course, I would enjoy that.” Matthew’s presence always reminded her of how happy she was when they had been childhood friends and when her mother was still alive. Now older, they didn’t see each other as regularly as Maria would have liked. Matthew was usually away fishing with his father; he only stayed home during inclement weather.
As the two friends walked over the crest of a hill and towards their houses, Matthew surprised Maria when he asked, “When I was home the other day, I saw you sitting on the bench outside the door of the old McKeon house. What were you doing there?”
Maria stammered, “Oh...I...just went for a walk and was feeling a little tired. That’s all.” She quickly changed the subject. “How are your parents?”
Matthew was oblivious to her words; he was lost in the details of Maria’s delicate lips as she spoke. They opened and closed in soft movements, touching each other the way he longed to feel them against his own lips. He wanted to hold her arm as they walked but thought he should not. It wouldn’t be right.
Maria turned her head towards Matthew and asked again, “Matthew, how are your parents?”
“Oh...they’re fine.”
Embarrassed at his inattention to her question, he took a deep breath and blurted out, “Father is having a good year on the boat, and Mother’s gout is much better.”
Maria returned a smile to Matthew, unaware of his secret thoughts. She was only thinking of Sam holding her...kissing her...anticipating her meeting with him again.
As they came to Maria’s house, she turned and said, “Good bye Matthew. It was nice to see you.”
He tipped his hat in silence; placed one hand in his pocket and waved goodbye with the other.
Maria hurried into the house to gather the items she was going to bring to her next meeting with Sam. She never noticed Matthew as he walked away, because if she had, she would have seen him looking back for glimpses of her as he loudly berated himself for not saying what he felt in his heart.
8
April 1715
EASTHAM – CAPE COD
THE MORNING FOLLOWING THE SABBATH, Maria waited for her father to leave for the landing dock to get his supplies from Barnstable. After he’d gone, she rushed out the door carrying her basket close to her, being careful not to drop anything as she hurried toward the pine grove to meet Sam.
Maria found him waiting by the McKeon house. When Sam saw her, he ran down the path to meet her halfway. He plucked the basket from her hand, grabbed her around the waist, twirled her once in the air and then kissed her. “I missed you, my Maria.”
“I, too, missed you.” She kissed him back with equal passion.
Arms entwined, they walked the short path to the old house.
As Sam closed the door behind them, the dust and shabbiness of the deserted house seemed to disappear for both of them. Their eyes could only see each other, and their bodies filled with a yearning that flowed quickly between them. Few words needed to be spoken. Sam and Maria understood each other. Lustful passion took control of their bodies and as the hours lingered for the lovers, they each satisfied their deep desires.
***
Sam spoke just as the sun began to set for the day. “Maria, tomorrow I must leave.”
Her eyes moistened. “Oh, Sam, can’t it be another day?”
“I’m sorry. The winds are in our favor, and my men await me.” He gently assured her, “Don’t worry.”
He rolled his strong body over hers. Looking into her eyes, he continued, “I may only need to be away from you a short time, but if not, you must remember I will return for you with my ship filled with riches.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “I will carry a wedding ring next to my heart to give to you upon my return,” and then in her other ear, “I promise to take you as my wife.” He moved next to Maria and traced the outline of her lips with his fingertip as he murmured, “Stay the night with me.”
She softly kissed his finger and then his lips. Stroking his long black hair she wrapped her arms around his strong back, pulling her body closer to his as he entered her again.
Maria fell asleep in Sam’s arms.
He wanted to hold her forever. As the night grew darker, the song of the whippoorwill and the gentle breezes of the spring night accompanied the two eager lovers as they surrendered to a night of contented slumber.
***
Early dawn came too quickly. Sam had held Maria as long as he could but knew it was time for him to take his leave. He pulled his arm from underneath the nape of her neck, kissed her on the cheek and prepared to leave, hoping not to wak
e his beloved. Goodbyes were difficult for Sam and it took all of his courage to step quietly into the early-misted morning without waking her. He paused in the doorway, looked back once more, and whispered, “Be safe, my Maria...I will love you forever and will return to you.”
He then ran with all his strength towards the harbor for fear that his feelings for Maria would make him turn around and go back. His face and body, wet with perspiration, mingled with his tears, concealing his overwhelming sadness. He hoped others would not sense his heartbreak. The pounding of his body against the dirt path and the rapid beat of his heart kept him focused on what he must do. Once at the landing, he caught a packet to Provincetown where, later that night, he would set sail with Williams.
***
Maria woke with the memory of their last night in her heart and thoughts. She stretched her arms lazily above her head. When her hand fell to the side she realized Sam was gone. She sat up calling his name, “SAM!” Her heart sank.
Grabbing her shawl, she ran out of the old house and down to the sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sam as he sailed along the coast. As she ran, she knew that she had slept too long. He was nowhere in sight. Angry with herself that she had missed him, she ran up a high bluff to see the coastline. Breathless, she reached the top of the bluff and screamed over and over, “Sam! Sam!”
Her futile calls exhausted her and she collapsed to her knees. She reached deep inside her thoughts, trying to encourage herself to believe: He WILL be back…he had promised. I must not be sad. He WILL return.
Maria scrambled to her feet and stood tall. The spring air blew her hair back behind her head like ribbons in the wind. As she turned away from the coast, she noticed the bright green grass of the sand dunes and smelled the fresh salty air. She was sad, but began to feel light and excited too, as if she were beginning her own journey of waiting that would be filled with hope. Her course now would be different from her previous life. It would require planning for Sam’s return. She knew he would come back. He loved her. He would rescue her from her dismal life. She would wait for him.
Soon a smile began to grow across her face as thoughts of Sam circled in her head. With each step she took toward home she imagined the two of them together, working side by side, as husband and wife. She became intrigued with what they would say to each other. She pictured Sam waking her up in the morning with a kiss before they would start their day. She felt good about their future together.
By mid-morning, her father’s house came into view. She conjured another image of Sam standing in the door. As she reached out to grab its latch, her father’s loud voice jolted her from her day-dreaming with, “MARIA!” It yelled again, “MARIA, where you bin? Where’s my food?”
“Coming....” She hurried over to the hearth to stoke the fire. She didn’t care that he was angry with her.
“Where you bin?” he yelled as he hunched over the table.
“Just walking,” she sweetly replied. “Sorry Father.” Maria was thankful he had kindled the fire and did not question her whereabouts during the prior night. She ran to her room, promising, “I’ll be right back Father,” and closed the door.
Maria relieved herself in the nightjar and changed into a clean shift and skirt. A pile of soiled clothes lay in the corner by her bed, a grim reminder of laundry and her ongoing ordinary life. Today, it didn’t bother her; she was in love.
As she prepared breakfast for her father, Maria again pretended it was for Sam. She placed the Dutch oven with biscuit dough on the hot embers, poured strong cider into a tankard and opened a jar of beach plum jam for the table. She liked the idea of Sam as her husband and imagined how this fine meal would satisfy him. Checking the biscuits in the hearth, she reassured herself that her future would be with Sam. She knew it.
Suddenly the angry voice interrupted her thoughts again, “Hurry up, you worthless girl.”
“Yes, Father.”
She was accustomed to hearing her father’s fury in so many ways; his actions and words were always sharp towards her. This time she turned away from him. With her back to the old man, she held his plate of biscuits and closed her eyes. Whispering a pledge to herself, she mouthed, “I promise to keep my hopes and dreams in my heart right next to Sam’s promise of returning to me, and no one will take that from me!”
Her father yelled over his shoulder, “What’s that you’re saying, girl?”
“Nothing, Father.”
Hallett banged his fist against the table. “God has cursed me with an irritating and useless female. Where’s my drink?”
From that day forward, Sam’s face and touch stayed with Maria. She worked hard and tried to do as she was told, even when her father’s harshness interfered with her secret daydreams. Her solution was to pay little to no attention to his words. By ignoring his rudeness she could weave her dreams of happiness throughout the day, making life with her father easier to endure. Sadly, her lack of attention aggravated the old man to such an extent the tension between them grew stronger. Each night, exhausted in her bed from the day’s work, her hopes felt shattered into tiny pieces of broken glass across the sandy floor. But knowing that Sam was coming home–to–her, and remembering his promises, she was able to patch them back together so she could sleep and dream of her future with him.
9
Present Day – June 23
BREWSTER – CAPE COD
AS I LOOKED OUT OF THE FRONT BAY WINDOW, I couldn’t believe that three weeks had passed. On this gorgeous morning I felt a light ocean breeze caress my face. Leaning closer into the middle window, I touched my forehead against the old screen. What a great idea it was to move close to the sea. A deep breath of salty air dispelled any doubts I’d had about our uprooting the family. I sensed a perfect day was ahead of me. If I had one more cup of coffee and then secluded myself into the downstairs bedroom, alias office, I could polish off those pesky bills.
Within a few minutes, Jim quietly knocked on the bedroom door. “Mom?”
“Hi, honey.” He looked handsome in his white shorts and shirt. “Will you be late tonight?”
“Yeah, I have the late shift.”
“How’s work at the restaurant?”
“It’s okay. Everyone’s pretty nice.” Then with a quick kiss on my forehead, he was off. As he shut the door he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Have a good night.”
I was sorting through the mail as I watched him back out of the driveway. I marveled at how much Jim had matured. I wished Mom and Dad could have lived a little longer to see everyone’s accomplishments and how our decision to move east was turning into such a good idea. A wave of inspiration for some gardening blew over me from the open window–physical work that I didn’t have to think about. I hid the bills under the roll-top desk and looked for Paul. I found him in the garage working on a carpentry project. “Paul, I’m going to do some digging out back.”
“Okay.”
I grabbed a shovel, trowel and kneepads. Near the rear of the barn a sunny spot beckoned me to choose it for a vegetable garden. I placed the shovel’s blade over the grass. Its sharp edge hit the ground and sliced into the green grass. I set the green sod aside for planting in a bare spot on the lawn. My foot hit the top of the shovel again, pushing eight inches into the black dirt. This is easy, I thought.
Moving to the right, I repeated my movements, slicing the grass and hitting the ground. But this time my foot stopped with such a force that it vibrated through my whole body, sending a sharp pain into my hand. I shook my fingers then massaged my palm. One more try, but I reminded myself to go slower this time. As I dug down, the shovel stopped again. Lifting the dirt, I could see the edge of what looked like a red brick. A brick? That’s odd. Of course, my curiosity pushed me farther in my digging. The more I dug the more bricks I found. They began to make a flat pattern that covered an area of about four to five square feet.
I dropped the shovel to tell Paul, who was still in the garage. Before I even reached the side door, I was ye
lling his name, “PAUL!” Out of breath with excitement, I called out again, “You’ve got to see this. Come on.”
Paul has always loved me for my adventuresome spirit and this time was no exception. He stopped sanding the old cabinet door from the dining room and attentively followed me out to the back of the barn. I thought I heard him mumble, “Never a dull moment with you.”
“What did you say?” I asked as I hurried ahead of him.
“Nothing.” He was laughing.
It didn’t matter; I was too keyed up to care. I pointed to the uncovered bricks. “Take a look at what I found.” I watched him walk around the red bricks. “What do you think?”
He looked intrigued. “You want me to dig them up?”
“I don’t know. I guess we could use them in another garden area. Wait! Let’s take a picture of this for our scrapbook. I’ll get the camera.”
Paul grabbed a shovel. By the time I returned he’d uncovered another layer under the bricks that consisted of old gray stones. He stopped and stared. “Look at this.”
We stood in silence, gazing upon the multi-layered mystery. I handed him the camera. “Take some pictures of it just the way we found it.”
Paul took two close-up shots and one to show the position of the find in the yard.
“Should we keep digging?” I asked.
Paul didn’t wait to answer me; he started to pry up the red bricks, one by one. I quickly put them in a wheelbarrow. Slowly, the gray stones were uncovered. They formed a circle beneath the red bricks. Its center was filled in with dirt but was broken on one side, with an opening of about three feet. Paul dug within the open space. His first shovel went down several inches before hitting another flat stone. He lifted more dirt away.
I couldn’t resist getting closer and knelt down on the grass, scraping away the black topsoil. “Look, it’s a step.” I leaned in farther and brushed more dirt from the top of it. I pointed to the other side. “Dig over there, on the inside of the circle. See if the dirt goes down below this step.”
The Old Cape House Page 4