“Certes. Benjamin, I do. But you must rest. Uncle Jeremy and I are ready to go and search, but I needed to know you would be all right.”
He left his sons and went out to ready Northstar. He rode circles as Jeremy unhitched Starlight. He’d rather go alone, but his brother wouldn’t hear of it. Mary might have fled to the Corchaug fort and Winnie, but inspection of the trampled snow in the front yard didn’t yield a clue. Jeremy swung up on Starlight and they urged the Old English Blacks down the lane.
Snow shimmered like diamonds in the clear sunlight, and they studied every nuance in the crystals.
“Look, Barn—see the footsteps? They’re small like Mary’s boots, and they head for the harbor.”
“Let’s go. You were right—she wants to go home.” They rode hard down the tree-lined road and images of Mary, smiling as she pointed to snowcapped roots on their first day here, haunted his thoughts. This was home now. Her home. He must find her.
They reined in the horses and left them huddled together by the dock. Barnabas could not contain himself and hurried up the plank to the ship. He paused at the top and was joined by the first officer. Jeremy gave the order for all crew to search the ship. He wasn’t convinced Mary didn’t slip aboard unnoticed.
Barnabas charged ahead to the great cabin, the one he and Mary had shared with the boys. He looked back at Jeremy. “I know you want to lead the search, but I must look here first. Methinks this is where she would come.” He burst through the door but found it empty.
A thorough search from stern to bow, upper deck, lower deck, and ’tween deck revealed no clues of Mary’s whereabouts. With sagging shoulders he followed Jeremy reluctantly down the plank. The creaking and groaning of the ship as it rocked in the water seemed to emphasize the emptiness he felt.
Billows of smoke rose in the west. As Barnabas swung heavily onto his horse, he caught his breath.
Jeremy followed his gaze. “Is something burning?”
“Aye—it’s a signal from the sachem. He told me if he ever required assistance from me, he would send the signal. Do you see the pattern? One smoke, a pause, three. In a few minutes he will repeat that same pattern. Let us not tarry. It’s a message meant only for me.” He dug his heels into his horse and Jeremy followed suit.
They urged their horses to a gallop, hooves barely touching the slippery snow. The smoke signal could not be ignored. He’d made a solemn vow to the sachem and would not break the trust. Besides, what if Mary was there? She wasn’t on the ship, and footprints were obliterated on the shore. She could be anywhere.
He urged Northstar yet again, and Jeremy kept pace with him, Starlight’s sea legs hitting firm with each stride.
Their horses’ sides heaved and steam blew from their flared nostrils as they rode through the log palisade and finally arrived at the center of the fort. The men rode directly to the waiting sachem. He looked deeply troubled, but there was not a threat apparent. “I saw your signal and we came with haste. I pray you are well, and your people are safe?”
“Treasured friend. I am well. But my people have heavy hearts. Today we learned your son will live. That gives us great gladness. But we have one amongst us who brings with her a sorrow we all share. You, treasured friend, are the only one who can bring joy to this fort again.”
“Mary! Is Mary here?”
Jeremy put out a hand to steady his brother.
The sachem stretched out his hands as well. “Wauwineta found her by the bay and brought her here. She was distraught and looking for a ship. She made Wauwineta promise not to tell anyone. After a night’s sleep, Wauwineta has requested I find you. She wants to talk to you.” The great sachem looked at Jeremy. “Alone.”
“Of course.” Jeremy turned to mount Mary’s horse.
The sachem stopped him. “You are brother to my friend. I have a pipe to share with you.” He nodded toward his dwelling.
Jeremy bowed. “I would be honored.” He glanced at Barnabas, who stood staring at Wauwineta’s home. “God is with you, Barn.” He followed the sachem inside.
Barnabas closed the distance between him and the hut. The door opened before he could reach for it and Wauwineta appeared.
“Mr. Horton, I am glad you are here,” she said softly. “We must stay outside. You have spoken to our sachem?”
“Aye. He tells me Mary is here. Let me go to her, I beg you. Now. I cannot wait.” He started to brush past her, but she held her ground and took his arm to gently steer him away from the entrance.
“We must speak. There is much for you to know about Mary. She will need to tell you, but I must tell you things first. She hurts—”
“Aye, I know. I have caused her to hurt. It is my fault. I know that. I accept all blame.”
“Let me finish my words with you before you speak.”
He looked down at his feet, knowing he would do anything he had to, anything God required of him, to have Mary back.
“She is in much pain and she wanted to go back to her people. Her people in England. She hoped it would be best for you and someday you might love again. She wanted that for you because she loves you so.”
He looked up quickly into Wauwineta’s dark eyes. His voice hoarse with emotion, his words a plea. “I do love her. With all of my heart. She is my life now and I cannot go on without her. I have asked God’s forgiveness. I must tell her, she needs to know.”
“I will go and speak to Mary. If she says yes, she will come to you to speak. She must be the one who decides.”
“Tell her I love her. Tell her Benjamin is getting well and Joseph is so very worried about her. Please.”
Wauwineta slipped inside the hut, Smoke at her heels.
Peace washed over him, knowing the outcome was in God’s hands. He looked up to the sky and thanked his Father that Mary was safe. Dark clouds drifted in once again, bringing the possibility of more snow. He took a deep breath. The snow had caused so many troubles, but he would keep the peace that passed all understanding. He would put his trust in God.
Winnie sat down next to Mary, by the fire. “I am still learning about your God. There is much to learn. But, Mary, there is something He has taught me long ago, even before I knew His name. And that is His gift of love. He has blessed us with it. Do you not believe your Barnabas could love you after he had such a love with Ann? Let me tell you.
“When Abigail was born, I loved her so much my heart ached. I found quickly I was with child again. I watched my little Abigail grow while my belly did too. And I despaired. How could I love another child? How could I love it with the same deep, abiding love I felt for my first child? It was a love I would die for. And then Wren was born and God had blessed me twice with the overwhelming love that is a mother’s. I have six children now, and He has never forsaken me. Do you think He would do less for you?”
Mary never doubted the deep love Winnie had for her children. God’s love for His children was like that, wasn’t it?
Winnie continued. “How great is our God! He did not leave Barnabas when Ann died. No, instead He led him to you. He blessed him twice with a great and wonderful love. Barnabas knows this now. We have spoken and I see his heart. Do not run away. Be strong. Do this for Barnabas and the child in your belly. Do this for you and your Lord.”
Tears welled as Mary looked at Winnie. “Did you tell him we shall have a child?” Her voice trembled.
“No, my friend, he does not know. He does not know and yet he is desperate to find you. He is desperate to tell you of his love. He does not need a child to make him love you. I look at him, and I think he has always loved you. But he was afraid if he loved you, he would be saying goodbye to Ann. I see that.”
“Winnie, I tried so hard to win Barney’s love. I forgot to ask God to guide me.”
“But God has not forgotten you.” Winnie took Mary’s hand. “Are you ready to talk with your Barney? He waits outside. I thought he would not listen and come right in, but he is respectful of you and does not want to lose you.” She walked
to the door and turned back to her friend. “Are you still his?”
“Yes, Winnie. I have always been his.” She closed her eyes. “Lord, thank You for answered prayer. Forgive my impatience. Amen.” She walked through the door.
Barney wandered to the inlet bordering the fort as the sun slowly sank from the sky, casting a shimmering stream of liquid gold on the water. As the last bit of light disappeared, he bowed his head. “Lord my Father, I pray Thee, do not take my Mary from me. Do not let her disappear from my life.” As the full moon rose and the clouds closed in, he turned in agony.
There stood Mary. Her beautiful face turned to his, her eyes glistening with tears. He wished he could see their color, to know the source of her tears. “Mary . . .” was all he could manage.
“Barney, there is much to say, so much to tell you.” Her body quivered as she spoke.
His heart lurched in fear that she would tell him she wanted to go back to England. That she no longer loved him. “Hush, my sweet, hush.” He leaned toward her and tenderly lifted her chin with his finger. His lips pressed hers with a tentative kiss. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her forever, but did she want the same?
“Barney—” She began again.
“Aye, there is so much to say. I only pray we have a lifetime to say it. Mary, my Mary. Do you not know? You are the love of my life. There is no one else on this earth that I could love more. Ann was the love of my life the moment I met her. I loved her with all of my heart, with every breath I took. If God had indeed allowed me to take her place the day she died, I would have gladly—I loved her so. To love someone again in that way was beyond my comprehension. But God is the author of miracles. Only He can take a man as empty as I and fill me to capacity. It does not mean I love Ann any less. Indeed, that is the miracle. God has shown me that.”
She collapsed into his arms. He drank in the sweetness of her scent as his lips gently kissed the top of her head and traced their way down to her eager lips. They kissed, sharing all of the joy two hearts could hold.
Mary stepped back and took his hands in hers. “There is more to think about than just you and me, Barney.” She took a breath and continued. “First there is Jay. He is so unhappy with me and I know not what to—”
“You know how much Joseph is like me. He hurt so much when he lost his mother. Mayhap he was afraid of letting her go. Or mayhap he didn’t want to love and lose again. I don’t know. But I do know that he realized how much he cares for you when he thought he’d lost you.”
Finally he drew back. “Mary . . .” He struggled to continue. “Something happened the day Ann died . . .”
“I know, Barney. Lizzie said it would take time. She—”
“Nay, my sweet, that is not what I need to tell you. I have struggled so much with this.”
“What, Barney? What happened?”
“There was a babe. A sweet little girl. We did not know Ann was with child, though I thought she might be. I had noticed a thickening of her waist. I waited for her to tell me. Mary, I fear I was wrong to wait. I should have asked her. If I had known she was with child, I would never have let her tend Joseph and Benjamin. They were so sick, it would not have been good for Ann in such a condition.”
“Do you think she knew?”
“I know not, but most certainly if she’d felt a quickening she would have told me. She became very ill. I wrapped her in the red sheets, built the fire. I wanted to call the physician, but she said nay, she did not want to be bled. The next morning she miscarried and then died. I was so stricken with horror at what had happened. There was no time to call a physician or a midwife. My beautiful wife and baby girl were both gone.
“I knew they would not bury our little girl. No church burial for such an early birth. I named her Anne, after her mother, and wrapped her in a blanket to bury her myself. I would have liked to have buried her with her mother, but people would have thought me mad. Instead, I put her in a little grave, under the cherry grove.” His chest convulsed in a silent sob.
“I am so sorry—I . . .”
He breathed deeply, determined to tell her everything. She needed to know. He needed to finally allow her into those hidden places of his heart, those places he had tried so hard to keep from everyone. “I had just lost my love, and to bury our sweet babe was more than I thought I could endure. I never told a soul. I sent young Joseph, with Benjamin in hand, down the lane to fetch the reverend, and I wrapped Ann in her robe. Her funeral was a nightmare for me and the guilt I felt was overwhelming. I set the blue slate over her grave and promised her I would never forget her, or our love.”
“Oh, Barney, the pain—”
“Pain, aye. The deepest pain anyone could imagine. I thought I could leave the pain in England, but it followed me here. I could not see that I let my pain hurt you, Mary. It was not until you left that I handed the pain to God and put it in His hands. When I saw the blue slate, I knew you not only loved me, but understood me in such a perfect way. It could only be from God. I fell to my knees and prayed that He would give you back to me. God waited patiently for me to surrender my all to Him, and then He led me to you.”
He searched her face, looked deeply into her misty eyes. “I know you have disliked this question in the past . . . but, Mary, are you . . . ?” He placed his hand on her belly. “I must know this, my love. I must take care of you, protect you.”
Her radiance reminded him of the day they were married. “Yes, we shall have a babe. Winnie has told me I am with child. She knows these things. She tells me the babe will come after the summer.” A blush spread across her cheeks, and her eyes, the color of brilliant emeralds, shone as the dark clouds played hide-and-seek with the sugar-cake moon.
Barnabas thought of Ann, their two beautiful boys, and the little girl they never knew. His heart beat wildly, but with joy. He tenderly pulled Mary close, his thoughts of the child they would have, the love they would share. “You make me the man God intended me to be. I love you, my sweet.”
A single, moonlit flake of snow drifted down to land perfectly on his cheek. Mary traced it with her finger and smiled. “Look, Barney, angel tears. An angel cries tears of joy tonight.”
Acknowledgments
Writing a novel seems like such a solitary endeavor, and indeed it is as the creative juices flow and the author puts words on paper. But publication is never a solitary venture, for it takes the proverbial village to produce a book. But not just any village.
I’ve been incredibly blessed by the people God has put in my path. I would like to begin by thanking God, my Father, for His tender care, mercy, and grace.
My mother was the inspiration for this book, and my dad gave me the foundation: a love of family, a love of books, and a voracious appetite to read. When I began writing my novel, he gave me encouragement. Thank you, Dad, for believing in me. My three sweet daughters, Jennifer, Lisa, and Kelly, thank you for showing me what family truly is!
An enormous thank-you to my editor, Vicki Crumpton. You have a keen insight and attention to detail, wrapped in humor and kindness, and I know how lucky I am! I am so blessed to be able to work with you and the whole Revell team! Lindsay, Erin, Michele, Jen, Claudia, Barb, Cheryl, and Twila are all fantastic to work with. I love you all!
Thank you to my tenth-grade lit teacher, Mr. Muldoon, for reinforcing my love of story.
I am grateful to Geoffrey Fleming, director of the Southold Historical Society, for his assistance and expertise on the early years of Southold. He regaled the three sisters from Oregon with his tales of buried silver spoons and impressed on us what it means to know your family’s story. I’m also grateful to Melissa Andruski and Dan McCarthy, both of the Southold Free Library’s Whitaker Collection. Their knowledge and willingness to help me track down elusive information enriched my story and made research a delight. Dan also works in the archives at the Southold Historical Society and has been invaluable in assisting me on my trips to Southold. He continues to send me links and tidbits importa
nt to my work. Melissa has been incredible in her enthusiasm and gracious support. Her willingness to assist me in accessing material went beyond the Whitaker Collection. She knew my desire to see (and touch!) the actual oak cask that Barnabas and Mary brought with them on The Swallow and met me early on a Saturday morning with the key to the Historical Society’s Pine Neck Barn. The loft also housed a diorama of Barnabas and Mary’s kitchen. What a thrill—and I was able to use my snapshots of the cask and kitchen for my novel descriptions!
I had the amazing opportunity to study seventeenth-century cooking with the wonderful Alice Ross at her studio in Smithtown, Long Island, and spent the day learning how to bake bread like Barnabas did. We cooked a complete hearth meal—including splitting our own wood—with only the fare and implements that would have been available to the colonists. Thank you, Alice, for your generous hospitality and the chance to relive what my ninth great-grandmother lived every day!
In 2008, I answered a tiny ad in the local paper that read “Tell Me What You Read” and found myself the office manager for one of the top literary agents in the country! Thank you, Natasha Kern, for teaching me not only what it takes to be an office manager but for mentoring me in the world of publishing.
Not many authors have the opportunity to thank two agents for one book, but I am so honored to have met and signed with Barbara Scott, of the WordServe Literary Agency, and agent extraordinaire! Thank you, Barbara, for your belief in my novel, your friendship, and your hard work. I have such heartfelt gratitude for you!
In 2009, I was fortunate to meet one of my favorite authors, Jane Kirkpatrick, at her book signing in Hood River, Oregon. She would be teaching at Bob Welch’s Beachside Writers Weekend Conference in Yachats, Oregon, and they still had an opening. I jumped at the chance to attend and have gone almost every year since. She is truly an inspiring author and speaker. Thank you, Jane, for validating me as a writer and for the wonderful friend and mentor you are!
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