Grabbing the long iron stick from its hook in the kitchen hearth, she poked at the fire’s embers and waited until a spark ignited, then fed it some kinder and a log. Maria walked back to bed and lay down. Her eyes closed, she stroked her large belly, moving her hands in circles over her bloated stomach. She felt the need to relieve herself and groaned in irritation. This bothersome task plagued her morning, noon and night and usually she accepted it. Today she felt annoyed. Pulling herself from her bed once more, she squatted on the necessary jar. As she reached for a clean shift, she heard her father stir. Worried that he would notice her condition, she dressed quickly, then went into the kitchen to begin her day.
Her father was as ornery as ever. He’d continued drinking his liquors, rendering him irrational in his demeanor. During the day he remained in the barn, tanning hides that he’d caught himself, or from others who’d brought skins to him. Maria took note that his longtime customers were keeping their distance. His reputation as a craftsman, who could make superb vellum and soft leather, was slowly being replaced with an image of unreliability and the village buffoon. He seemed to Maria as a man who cared little for anything, except his drink. He never even noticed the physical changes in his own daughter’s body.
Supplies were low in the pantry and today Maria barely had enough flour to make breakfast. The low staples meant that she must face the scrutiny of her neighbors. She hoped to wait one more day before having to enter town. Perhaps she could stretch her supplies if she didn’t eat as much, then she could save her portion for her father and stay home.
Old man Hallett finished his morning biscuits and pushed his empty plate away. He ordered, “You need to deliver my hides to Mr. Eldridge today.”
Maria had forgotten that she had to go into town for him. More frightening than facing the wrath of her father was the possibility of meeting church ladies with their scornful glances aimed at her and her ‘sinful’ condition. She did not want to go. She grew defiant. “I’m sorry Father. I simply can’t go today, I must finish my cloth. You said you needed my weaving money for your debt.”
Hallett knew she was right. His debt required more money than he had. Reaching for his jacket he spoke, “Mind your chores today, girl. I expect you to finish that cloth. I’ll be back late.”
“Fine,” Maria answered, pleased with herself for the rare time that she got her way. She watched him close the door, then moved to the small window, where she saw him enter the barn. Let him make the delivery, she thought. He’d get his money, get drunk and not return till late.
Within minutes, he had the bundle of hides under his arm and was walking into town.
Maria rubbed her belly in soothing circles. In her isolation, she had become accustomed to talking to her unborn child. She spoke in a soft voice. “At least we’ll have the day to ourselves. Now what song would you like me to sing to you?”
20
Tuesday Morning – October 29, 1715
EASTHAM – CAPE COD
THOMAS HALLETT EAGERLY ANTICIPATED his payment as he walked to the house of Jacob Eldridge. He had hoped that Jacob’s wife, Mrs. Eldridge, was not at home so he could drop off the tanned leather, get his money, and leave quickly. He knocked on the door.
A shrill voice called from inside the house, “Helloooo, just a minute!”
He cursed under his breath at the whiney sound of the irritating Mrs. Eldridge. The door opened, and the elder woman greeted him.
Tom Hallett gave no greeting in return. “This package is for your husband. He said the money would be waitin’ for me.”
The puzzled lady looked him up and down and then instructed him: “You will have to wait until I speak with my husband. He’s busy right now. Wait here please.” She took the package and shut the door in the old man’s face.
Hallett cursed again, wiping his nose on his sleeve as he stood his ground.
Several minutes went by before Mrs. Eldridge opened the door once more. “Here’s your money, sir. And if I may ask, how is your daughter, Maria?”
He answered, “She be well.”
The woman was persistent. “I hope that the state she’s in will not bring shame on our community.”
Hallett did not wait to hear her comment. He turned and walked away, counting his coins.
***
The tavern was empty except for a few travelers eating their midday meal. Hallett slammed a coin on the table and instructed Mr. Smith to give him a drink. Ale was set upon the dark wooden sideboard. Hallett finished it with a single lift of his hand. As several coins spilled out of his bony fingers, his tankard crashed down once more and he yelled, “MORE!”
Mr. Smith was happy to have the old man’s money but was prepared to cut him off when necessary. It wasn’t good for business. The tavern keeper drained ale from the tap as he tried to engage Hallett in idle conversation. “How’s the tanning business these days?”
“As good as it should be.” Leaning closer, he took another long swig from the tankard.
The stout proprietor began to wipe the spilled ale from Hallett’s sloppiness. “How’s Maria? I haven’t seen her for several months.”
The old man snarled back at him. “She’s fine, and it’s none of your business.”
“I was just wondering when she was coming back to the tavern for work. She, no doubt, is a pretty little thing.”
“Pretty?? It’s nothing but a curse for her and me. Why, some scalawag by the name of Sam Bellamy tried to get his hands on her a while back, but I wouldn’t let him. I showed him my fist.” He raised his gnarled hand in a ball. “Then I told him to get off my property!”
Mr. Smith leaned closer. “My missus’ told me that some of the ladies think something did happen with him and your Maria.”
“What?”
“I said that some of the good ladies of the church are concerned that your Maria might be with child.”
Hallett stood straight. Ale dripped from his lips as he asked again, “What’s that you say?”
Before Mr. Smith could speak another word, his first words sank into Hallett’s brain. The old man slammed his tankard on the table and stormed out of the tavern, pushing chairs over in his path.
21
Tuesday Afternoon – October 29, 1715
EASTHAM – CAPE COD
LAUNDRY DAY WAS A TIRESOME CHORE for Maria. The extra weight of her unborn child made any physical movement difficult for her, especially heavy wet clothes. While the sun rose above Maria’s head, she draped the clean clothes to dry across boulders, low branches, bushes, a fence and the rock wall. When she finished, she sat on the wooden bench against the outside of the house for a rest and nibbled on some dried fruit.
The autumn sun grew warm on her face. She decided a little more weaving on a promised cloth for Mrs. Ellis, Matthew’s mother, could be accomplished before her nap. Weaving was so enjoyable to Maria. It was a skill that she was proud to have conquered and, to her surprise, it brought a welcome profit.
She climbed the stairs to the long room above the first floor. In the eaves, she lifted a twelve-inch wooden square up and away from its frame, and tied its anchor rope to a nail on the center beam. The fresh air blew cool; it felt good. Her hands rested across her stomach. Outside, she noticed something strange on the path leading to their house. Her eyes focused on a figure approaching. She thought it looked like Father walking, but it couldn’t be, he never comes home this time of day after he gets his pay. Maria whispered under her breath. “It IS Father!” She quickly walked over to the stairs and began to descend into the kitchen. As she neared the bottom, she heard her name, ”MARIA!”
Startled, her foot slid on the edge of the last step and she fell backwards. Swiftly she righted herself.
Her father threw open the door. He sounded furious. “MARIA! Where are you?”
“Here, Father! What’s wrong?”
He came closer to her. She backed towards the wall under the stairs. As she clutched one hand to her shawl, the other rose slightly,
ready to defend herself.
Hallett yelled, “Show me yourself, or I’ll show you the back of my hand! Drop your hands so I can see!”
Maria let go of her covering and waited for the pain of his hand.
But it did not come.
Hallett stood with his hand raised as if to hit, but instead his wide eyes settled on Maria’s protruding stomach. The back of his hand moved to cover his own mouth.
Silence passed between them.
“You little whore...did you think you could fool me and everyone else in Eastham?”
“Please, let me explain....” Maria begged.
Hallett glared at her. “I want nothing to do with you and your bastard child! You’ve brought shame upon me.” He reached for the iron poker hanging by the hearth. “I want you out of my house. Go find whoever did this to you.” He held the iron stick in the air above his head and roared, “Let him take care of you; I’m done with you. You’ve been nothing but a burden since your mother passed.”
Maria closed her shawl to cover herself. Her hands trembled as she pleaded again, “Father, please... I’ll work hard and listen to everything you tell me to do. I have nowhere to go.”
Behind Hallett, Maria caught a glimpse of a man coming into the house. It was Mr. Smith. Hallett remained poised to hit Maria. Within seconds, Smith took the poker from the angry man’s hand and led him out of the house. He spoke as a friend and implored, “Come, Thomas...outside...before you do something you’ll regret.”
Maria stood with body shaking, thoughts paralyzed. Confused, afraid and fearful, she didn’t know what to do or where to go.
Mr. Smith came back into the house to find her crying on the stairs. “Are you all right?” he asked. He took a seat at the table and swiveled his head from side to side in despair. “You must realize that your father will never come around to this. His pride has been hurt, and he’s stubborn as an old mule. You should have told him and not let him find out from others.”
Maria stayed close to the wall and with tears answered him, “I was afraid to tell him.”
He gently scolded her. “The damage has been done. I presume you know that your condition will not be agreeable with the ladies and Reverend Treat?”
She moved away from the shadow of the stairs and into the light of the hearth. “Yes, I’m aware of this.”
“Your father wants you to leave. Do you have somewhere that you’ll be safe?”
“No....I do not.”
Smith added, “I was able to get him to agree to you staying till tomorrow morning, but then you must go. He does not want to set eyes upon you, ever again. He chooses to sleep in the barn tonight. I’m sorry, Maria. I have done all I can. I’m afraid that most people will not be sympathetic to you; in their minds you have committed a grave sin.” He pulled a small pouch from the inside of his waistcoat and placed it on the table. “Here’s something to help you on your way.”
Maria stepped forward to examine its contents. She opened it, and several coins fell into her hand. “Mr. Smith, I could not accept this from you.”
“It’s not from me. Sam Bellamy left this for you in my safekeeping, in case you had need of it in his absence. I questioned at the time, but he spoke no reason to me.” Looking at Maria, he added, “I understand now.”
Maria returned the coins to the pouch.
“I must go...may the Lord be with you.” He left a heavy silence hanging over the room.
22
Tuesday Evening – October 29, 1715
EASTHAM – CAPE COD
ALONE IN THE SMALL HOUSE, the silence was deafening to Maria’s ears and her knees would not stop shaking. She cradled the small pouch from Sam in her lap, nestled into the folds of her skirts. The anxious trembling of her legs caused the coins to strike one another. Their clinking became the only sound in the empty house. At last, she was still, but then she felt movement under her skirts. A tightening formed a point on one side of her stomach. “Oh, I’m sorry little one. I’ve upset you.” Maria looked down. “Yes, I need to think. We must have a plan, but what?” Abigail’s face appeared in her thoughts. “We could go to Abigail’s house.”
She began talking to herself, working through her options, “Abigail said she would help me. But how do we get there?” She walked over to the window and looked to the barn. “I can’t use Old Brother. What can I carry my things in? The pushcart will have to do. I shall take only what I need and walk there. I know this will work.”
Maria remembered her mother’s travel bag. Pleased, she began looking in the storage space above the main floor. The top of the bag peeked out above baskets of wool and threads against the far wall. After carefully pulling the cumbersome bag to the middle of the floor to inspect it, she wiped the dust away with her hand. Her mother’s initials were stamped on the outside: S.A.M. for Sarah Anne McNeill. Maria thought it odd that it spelled ‘Sam’ and took it as a good omen. Fearful that she might slip again, she shoved the bag down the stairs. Dust flew into the air as it tumbled to the bottom.
Maria stuffed four skirts, three shifts, two corsets, several hand-kerchiefs, two pockets, straight pins, one apron, two shawls, two pairs of stockings and her mother’s looking glass into the old bag. She looked around her tiny room. “Now where’s Minda’s lavender water?” She stopped. “Minda! How will Minda know where I am?” Frantically, she secured the latch on her mother’s bag. “I can’t think about the PowWah, I must keep going.”
Her legs began to ache, warning her that she needed rest. Grudgingly, she lay down, but kept thinking of other things to bring: food for the trip, spinning wheel, tools for carding and spinning. Restless, she soon got up and continued her packing.
After her last meal of the day, Maria eventually retired to bed. Still worried about what to pack, she accepted that she had enough items but doubts plagued her dreams throughout the night. She awoke after only a few hours concerned about the bumpy and rutted roads she must walk on, and the distance she needed to travel.
23
Wednesday – October 30, 1715
EASTHAM – CAPE COD
BY EARLY DAWN, Maria had already brought the pushcart around to the front of the house. Her mother’s case was placed in first. To her disappointment its bulkiness nearly filled the whole cart. She pushed her weaving supplies in tight around the outsides of the bag, using their thickness as a cushion. Wrapping her scutching knife in a handkerchief, she pocketed it for easy access, if needed for protection. She was barely able to squeeze her food across the top of her pile of belongings. Lastly, she covered everything with a shawl and a blanket, then tied them down with rope. Hurrying back into the house to check if anything was forgotten Maria paused to look around.
“My spinning wheel!” she cried out. “I can’t leave it behind; I need it.” She paced back and forth in front of the hearth, holding her head in her hands. “How foolish of me to think that I could take it with me. There’s no room in the cart.” Her head shook in despair. The wheel meant so much to her; it was her freedom from being dependent on others. It was the one thing that she needed the most.
Maria climbed the stairs to the loft. She spun the wheel and held her hand over its movement as it whirred on its axle. The other hand caressed her belly. “The spinner must stay. We need to leave now, before Father wakes.”
Returning to the kitchen, she looked once more around the tiny house. Nothing else would be missed; memories of her dear mother were stored in her heart. After adjusting her heavy cape, she placed on her cap, closed the door and never looked back.
As Maria pushed the two-wheeled cart through the sleepy village and onto the open road toward Abigail’s house, the misty morning sunlight illuminated her way. The damp air felt cool on her exposed face and hands.
During the first few miles, Maria rested against the side of the cart as needed. Once outside the village, near a small grove of pines, she finally stopped to remove stones that had found their way into her shoes. She decided this was a good place to eat her biscu
it and relieve herself in the trees. Feeling refreshed, she noticed the sun was now high in the eastern sky and the air warm enough that she could remove her heavy cape. She laid it over the ropes on the cart and took hold of the handles to resume her journey. She pushed off with a shove but a loud crack echoed into the air and she fell forward onto her knees.
The cart had broken an axle, spilling her weaving supplies across the road. Her mother’s bag lay half in the cart and half on the dirt. She knelt as if praying but instead began to curse and scream, saying things that she had heard her father say time and again. Taken aback at her cursing, she covered her mouth to quiet the angry words and slumped back on her haunches. Unaware of a figure approaching in the distance, she began to pick up her few possessions from the dirt.
***
The lone traveler slowed his walking to get a better view of what was before him. He looked closer and saw a woman who seemed to need help. He decided he was in no hurry and didn’t mind lending a hand. As he got nearer he called out, “Hello there...do you need assistance?”
The woman straightened and turned towards him.
Stunned at her face, he called out to her, “Maria? Is that you?”
Maria could not believe her eyes. “Matthew?”
He dropped his bag on the road and ran to her. It was not the custom to show affection to a single woman in public, but he couldn’t help himself. He hugged her. As he held her in his arms, he felt Maria’s swollen stomach against his waist. Leaning back, he looked into her eyes, avoiding its sight. “Maria, I’ve missed you. How are you?”
The Old Cape House Page 9