“I am sure you wished not to say it,” she said, resting her head against his chest, “knowing how it might pain me to know how he killed himself.”
“You may put your mind to rest on that account, Anna. He did not take his own life.”
She jerked away, her mouth agape. “He did not?”
“Nay. But ’tis true he had lost his honor. He was a selfish, angry man.”
Her stare drifted down. “How did he die?”
Should he tell? The details of Samuel’s death would be startling to anyone. “He was stabbed.”
“By whom?”
He studied her eyes, the way their crystal depths ached for the answer. But some things were best left in the grave. “’Twas an accident.”
“An accident.” Her whispered echo floated up and she rested her head on his chest once more, her arms tightening around him. “I suppose that is all I am to know.”
“Aye.”
“Hmm.” She breathed against him before breaking the silence. “You defected. Why?”
Again, her unmitigated forgiveness cradled his fears like swaddling bands. He breathed out, unburdening his spirit from the weeks of forced silence. “I believe I have sympathized with the patriot cause for some time.” He allowed his memory to journey through the past, gathering the bright moments, the ones that sparked his allegiance to shine on a more worthy cause. “I lived here for three years before the war began, watching the patriots persevere against stronger and more stringent laws. I heard their impassioned speeches in the streets, and their cry for freedom pricked a cord in my heart. It was not until Stockton’s treatment of Kitty that I knew I was fighting for the wrong side.”
Anna pushed up, a twisted grimace on her face. He rushed to help her, not removing his hand until the peace in her expression was restored.
Once seated straight, she held her gaze against him and cupped her hand against his jaw. “I do not condemn you for choosing not to tell me.”
What manner of woman have you given me, Lord? “I give you my word, it was only to protect you.”
“This I know.” Her eyes shone, wisdom and love shimmering in their crystal depths. “God has given me more joy than I ever could have wished for, answered every prayer, blessed every pain. I sought you and I found you. The love I craved I have been given. The child I have dreamed of is ours. All because of you.”
Gratitude swelled until it forced his eyes to moisten. “How will I ever be worthy of you?”
“You are already. Everything you are, Henry—” She stopped, a smile slanting her mouth. “Henry.”
The sound of his name, the one he had abandoned but never forgotten, hung in the air between them as Anna’s smile widened. “We owe God all we can give,” she said. “We owe our child’s future all we can give.”
The sudden drop in her lilting sound, the somber veil in her features forced his head to tilt. “What do you mean?”
She kept her gaze plaited with his, her voice carrying strength far beyond her feminine tone. “You are a soldier. You must fight.”
He reached for her hand. “You would be alone.”
“Nay.” She shook her head. “Eliza and Kitty and I shall be together. God will provide.”
A flash of warmth spilled over his skin. “I do wish to go.”
“I know.”
“But I do not wish to leave you.”
“I know. My heart aches at the thought.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “But you must go, and I must let you.”
Henry pulled her against him, willing the love that burned in his chest to carry through his embrace and warm her to the depth of her soul. Finally his mouth could form the words his heart longed to speak—words he believed he would never again have been able to utter, but for her. Now, he whispered their tender sound, savoring the perfect feel of them on his lips. “I love you, Anna.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Warmth from the blaze radiating in the fireplace filled the Watson’s parlor while tension and woe weighted Anna’s body like lead. The morning had not heeded her beseeching, and had come far too soon. She finished preparing Henry’s bag, tucking the letter she’d penned deep in the safety of the pouch. Kitty stood beside her, doing much the same. Peering over her shoulder, Anna spied Eliza and baby Mary, both wrapped in a blanket, standing beside the door while the men finalized the plot of their journey.
She turned back to her task as a spike of regret readied to pierce her gut. Why the men must leave so early, she understood, but struggled to accept. Henry was a soldier and liberty was a cause more valiant than any on earth. She would not dissuade him no matter how her grief threatened to tear her to pieces. She nestled another cake along side the others, deflecting the incoming blow of fear with the shield of courage she’d fashioned since the moment the men had declared with certainty their intention to help Henry Knox at Fort Ticonderoga. That had only been three days past. And now, the dreaded moment was upon them.
Anna glanced at Kitty, whose light freckles had lost a shade of color. She must have sensed Anna’s stare for she looked sideways, her gaze gripping Anna’s.
With a tight smile, Kitty directed her vision to the men before fussing with the knapsack once more. “I want to go with them,” she whispered.
“We all do. But you know we cannot.”
She looked at Nathaniel, the sound of her pinched voice little more than a breath. “My heart will break if I should lose him…”
Do not speak it, Kitty. Anna raised her chin and fought the emotions that clawed at her chest. “That fear plagues us all.”
“There are times despair threatens to overcome me. The future is so dark, so unknown, and the enemy so vast I feel I cannot move right or left. I try to be brave, but…”
“You are not alone in your feelings.” Anna reached beside her, gripping Kitty’s hand. “As they shall be courageous, so shall we.”
“Aye, we shall.” Kitty peered once again to the men, their conversation beginning to find its benediction, signaling the time of their departure. “Fear comes to us all, but we must not submit to its cries.” She looked back to Anna. “I’ve known that, of course, but Nathaniel reminded me of it last night. He said submitting to our fears is the same as submitting to our foe.” A healthy pink returned to Kitty’s cheeks as if speaking her husband’s words infused her blood with tangible courage. “I may shed a tear, but I will never submit. I know well the cause for which we sacrifice so much. It is worth every effort.”
“You are a remarkable woman, Kitty.” Simple words, yet not strong enough to carry the weight of their veracity.
“Nay, not at all, but I thank you.” Kitty looked up and smiled to Eliza who turned just then to motion them from the table. “That praise is reserved for my sister. ’Twas she who planted the seed of liberty in my heart and for that I will be forever grateful.” With a quick exhale and smile that failed to cover the emotion in her face, Kitty squeezed Anna’s hand before making her way to the others.
I am not ready.
Anna reopened Henry’s bag. Had she included enough cakes? She recounted and scowled. That would hardly be enough for such a journey. She looked out the window and removed the scarf she’d stuffed near the bottom. ’Twas far too cold. He would need it now, not later.
A pop in the fire burst to light the memory that gripped since its birth not ten hours past. Henry’s wisdom embraced her, just as he had in the dark of their room. We are few in number, those of us who strive for liberty—and you are one of them my darling, though you do not fight with ball and powder. But though we are few, we are strong in purpose, and our cause emboldens us against our enemy. Anna closed her eyes, reliving the feel of his strong arms at her back, his breath on her cheek.
“Anna.”
Henry’s hand brushed her elbow, the pleasant remembrance dispersing like smoke in the wind. Nay, I am not ready. But she would never be.
Swallowing, Anna turned, gripping to her threadbare courage, praying it would no
t rip until he had gone. He could not see her cry. Not now.
She looked up. Except for she and Henry, the parlor was empty. “Where are the others?”
He glanced to the door then back to her. “They are saying their good-byes. We must leave now if we wish to travel in daylight.” His eyes, like the sky on a spring day, lured the bud of hope to bloom.
“You will return to me.”
“Dear, Anna.” Reaching for her cheek, his warm, masculine smile widened his face, while his eyes reserved a strand of pain, refusing to give voice to the worries that pricked his soul as well as hers. He pressed out an audible breath. “You and Warren will get along well.”
She studied his face, straining against the ache that clawed her spirit. “We will.”
“I am pleased he will stay and look after you.” Henry’s jaw shifted before he spoke again. “He is a good man, and I trust him with your care.”
Anna glanced down. Warren had told her everything, and though she was pleased—nay, overjoyed—to learn the truth of her birth, she would have Henry at her side over any man.
“Anna…” The depth of Henry’s timbre brought her gaze back to his. “Should I…should anything happen to me, I want you to—”
“Oh, I nearly forgot.” She snatched the scarf from the table and reached to fasten it around his neck. She could not allow him to speak such words, or her tears would stream from her eyes. “I would not have you worry. Of course Father and I shall keep watch over the garden and be sure our home is well cared for until you return.” The last word wobbled and she coughed to cover the sound of it.
Henry traced her with his gaze, as if memorizing her every feature, capturing every memory that lived between them. “I will send word to you when I can.”
“I shall treasure every letter.” Anna smiled, the pain of sadness so sharp in her chest, she could only breathe in quick, short bursts. “You mustn’t forget your bag.” She thrust the small pack at him. Her throat strained and she smiled broader. “I do hope what I prepared is sufficient. There is a letter I penned for you near the bottom, and I—”
“Anna.” He swept her against him and lowered his mouth to hers. All warmth, and depth and yearning. All grief and hope and faith together. His muscles tightened against her and she lifted to her toes, pressing against him and willing every ounce of her love to seep from her soul into his.
Groaning, he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, allowing their breath to slow. He trailed his hands down her arms, finally knitting his fingers with hers as he raised his head. “Come.”
He lead her away from the table and stopped just inside the door as the other couples stood in twos, speaking and embracing in the cold of the gray December morning. Three mounts stood ready, prepared with blankets and gear to carry them through the travails that awaited.
The ticking of Henry’s jaw refused to abate. “You will be sure to have Kitty and Eliza assist you when your time approaches.” He faced her, his gaze dropping to her belly then rising again to her eyes. His throat bobbed. “I will pray for you. That your pain will be minimal and that you will—”
“I will be fine.” Anna reached for his face, brushing her fingers against the few faded scars on his jaw. “If our child is a girl, I shall name her Louisa, after your mother.” His eyes misted and he swallowed, urging the lump in Anna’s throat to swell. “If we are given a boy…” She inhaled and raised her face, gripping Henry’s biceps. “I shall name him William.”
Henry’s eyes rimmed with red and he tugged her to him again, pressing her head against his chest and whispering into her hair. “I love you.”
Holding to him, Anna gripped fistfuls of his coat at his back. “I shall always love you, Henry.”
“Henry, we must away.”
Thomas’s voice pierced the frosted air and Henry nodded. “I am coming.”
No! Lord, help me be brave.
Henry eased Anna away, grinning as he reached for his pocket. “I have something for you.”
“Oh?”
He took her hand and opened her fingers, resting a ring in her palm. Anna flung a look to him, gratitude and joy nudging back the weight of sorrow. “’Tis lovely—nay, ’tis more than lovely. ’Tis perfect.”
“I know you have your mother’s, but…” Smiling, his gaze lingered on the ring then rose to her face. “When I learned I would be leaving—”
“Come, Henry. No more dawdling.” Anna looked to the source of the voice and found Nathaniel with his arms around Kitty, his face not carrying a hint of the jest that played in his voice to cut the sadness that stretched between them, no doubt. “I fear if we stay too much longer we shall not leave at all.”
“I am ready.”
Give me strength.
Anna rested against him and he tugged her close as they walked to the others. He faced her one last time, speaking low and gazing at her as if he could buoy her faltering strength with his faith alone. “I shall think of you always. I shall pray for you, just as I shall need your prayers.”
“I shall pray for you with every breath.” Smiling with more sincerity than she knew she carried, Anna reached to hold his face. “Kitty told me you once said that there will come a time when we will be called upon to act in defense of the cause we believe in. That time has come, and we were made for it.” She rose to kiss him again, wrapping her arms firm around him, then stepped back, pressing the ring to her chest. “This shall hover over my heart while you are gone, and I shall put it on my finger in place of my mother’s only when you return to me.”
His mouth tightened, his gaze straining, it seemed, for one more touch. “I love you.”
Lord, help me. She nodded, holding a strong smile on her mouth to fight the quivering of her chin. “I shall see you again, Henry. Promise me.”
The low baritone of his voice wavered ever so slight. “I promise.” After a quick smile he stepped to his horse.
A melody of heavy farewells played through the group as the women found comfort beside each other, while the men they loved mounted, preparing at last to leave them.
Though there were others beside her, though there were trees and sunshine and cold winter air, Anna could see and feel nothing but the last look that reached from Henry’s eyes to embrace her, before finally he turned and kicked his horse to a gallop.
He was gone. All three men, so noble and good, had left them. And so they should, Anna reminded herself.
Eliza turned first, her cheeks stained with streaks of tears. “I am honored to have them go. I would have nothing less.” She released a wobbled breath. “Do not think my tears mean I believe they should stay.”
“I do not,” Anna said first. She placed a hand at Eliza’s back. “As I told Kitty, we shall strengthen each other.”
“Aye, we shall.” Kitty took Eliza’s arm and motioned to the house. “Come, let us find the warmth of the fire. I believe the bread I prepared should be ready now.”
Anna paused and Eliza took her hand. “You are coming, Anna?”
“Aye, I thank you.” She peered toward the road where the men had gone. “Forgive me, I beg a moment alone.”
Both women nodded and started for the house.
Praying, Anna closed her eyes, painting in her mind a vision of days yet to come—Henry riding back just as he had rode away, whole and strong, with Thomas and Nathaniel riding beside him. They would tell of their victory and how freedom was theirs, just as they’d hoped, and sacrificed and prayed. She squinted her eyes tighter and bowed her head, pressing her fists to her mouth. Lord, protect them. Carry them home, I pray thee. Grant them victory and carry them home.
Blinking her eyes open, Anna exhaled and turned toward the house when the feel of the gold circle in her grasp halted her steps. She released the protective fist around the ring Henry had given her. Oh, how I love you, my dear Henry. Lifting it to the light, she turned the precious gift in her fingers and gasped in reverent surprise, her eyes misting, as she read the engraving etched in scrollin
g letters.
Tho’ the world hath striv’d to part, God hath joined us, hand and heart.
Author’s Note
The historic Siege of Boston lasted nearly a year, from April 1775 to March 1776, when Washington finally drove the British Army from the city. Boston’s harbor had been closed since March 1774, isolating the city in an attempt to make the citizens submit to British authority, but it only fueled their growing anger over continued atrocities. By mid-to-late 1775, the city was in great distress. Starvation, disease, and poverty were rampant. Many of the civilians had left the city, but many were unable to leave and subjected to the terrible conditions.
The colonists in surrounding areas wished to help their fellow patriots and did what they could. Though I know of no documented instances where smuggling goods into Boston occurred (literary license there…), smuggling was a very real part of the Revolutionary War era and extremely dangerous for those involved. But danger, it would seem, did not deter the tenacious colonists from living fearlessly.
Thank you for taking the time to read Henry’s and Anna’s story. It was a joy for me to write, and I hope, a joy for you to read.
So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3) Page 34