To Follow Her Heart

by Rebecca DeMarino

  Barnabas clapped him on the back and turned to his sons. “Your uncle and I will build a fire to forge the blades. You boys begin checking them, but look at the handles first. Make sure they are not coming apart. If they are, they need to be repaired before we fix the blades.”

  They worked the rest of the afternoon, right through to the heavy plows and wagons, and it wasn’t until they finished checking the last wheel and bolt that Barnabas took Jeremy to see the sled.

  “Patience told me about this. She said you gave everyone a ride out Horton Lane to the sound.”

  “Aye, I did. Mary loved it. But you haven’t seen the best part.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Remember the horse bells you brought back for me? I had them stitched to the harness. Look here.” The bells clattered as he pulled the harness from a wooden box. “We won’t be running into anyone in this sled. They hear us coming from miles away.”

  Jeremy held the harness and gave it a shake. “Excellent. You amaze me, brother. You give me much to live up to.”

  “How is that? You brought the bells back for me.”

  “It is the spirit in which you give, Barn. The joy you have in making someone happy.”

  “You have heard it said, have you not, that the gift is in the giving? Well, it is true.”

  The boys wiped the last of the crusty mud from the plow’s moldboard, and they all dipped their hands in a barrel and splashed their faces with a shock of cold water. Jeremy handed each a ragged cloth to rub away the grime, and they stomped through the snow for supper.

  “It smells very good, Mary, but I’ve promised Patience I would take her over to Mrs. Bayley’s.”

  Mary’s eyes flew wide. “The boardinghouse? I’ve not known you to pass on one of my meals, no matter how simple it is. No, bring her here. Go fetch her now.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen her, and we must sit and talk.” He put his arm around Mary. “Surely you understand.”

  Later he sat across from Patience, chewing dry slabs of venison. “I’ll not tell you how good Mary’s kitchen smelled tonight.”

  She laughed, and he watched as her eyes smiled along with her lovely mouth. “Mary’s kitchen always smells lovely. I wanted your company tonight more than a good meal.”

  She was beautiful. And kind. He set his fork down, stretched his hand across the table, and wrapped his strong fingers around hers. “I was hoping you might feel that way.” They sat that way a long while, taking each other in, ignoring the cold food on their plates.

  She squeezed. “I hate that you are away in Winter Harbor, but thankful ’tis close enough we can find a moment here and there to feel your touch on my hand.”

  “It will be several more months, I fear, before Harry’s ship is complete. He is thrilled to have me working with him, and I believe that is because he knows he could not do it by himself. I think he knows it is his last ship.”

  Droplets of tears collected in her eyes like the snow crystals gathered in the spent rose blooms. “Then I am glad you are doing this for him.”

  They walked to her porch. Jeremy put his hand on her arm. “Will you sit with me a while? It’s cold, but you look so pretty in the moonlight.”

  Her eyes shone like stars in the cold moonlight and as she took a seat on the steps she pulled her cloak tight around her.

  He sat beside her, an arm about her shoulders. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was sailing with my uncle when I was about fifteen, and we sailed from London up to Southwold?”

  A smile flickered on her lips. “Well, I remember something about it. But tell me again. I can’t remember how the story ends.”

  He chuckled and told her sea stories until they were half frozen.

  He kissed her warm and long on the lips before he crossed the road back to Mrs. Bayley’s. The memory of that kiss would be what kept him to task through the coming weeks. He must finish the boat so they could marry.

  29

  May 10, 1665

  Southold

  Four months passed by, and for Patience the change of season magnified the passage of time and her longing for Jeremy. Her little students and her friends kept her busy, but her life truly seemed on hold until the ship was ready to sail.

  She stood with Mary while Barnabas led Stargazer around from the barn. The snow had melted long ago, and the sled remained behind, but the horse jingled with each step, his harness full of bells.

  Abbey and Misha were there, and Lizzie and Zeke joined them. The men helped the ladies into the back of the wagon and then climbed up to the board in front. Benjamin and Anna would bring their own wagon, and Benjamin’s brothers and sisters would ride with them.

  It was the middle of the work week, and it was springtime, with all that entailed, but they’d made this journey to Fort Corchaug every year on this date since Winnie had died. Several of the townspeople made the same journey, including the Youngses, and it was a daylong celebration of Winnie’s life.

  Over the years, it had grown into a celebration of her people, so keenly were they aware of their dwindling numbers. Patience gazed at Abbey and Misha as the wagon bumped over the road filled with puddles from spring rains. She thought of the sad loss of Winnie and Heather Flower. Fever and pox were killing the native people faster than any wars with the Narragansett.

  They rode past the meadow and into the forest, fragrant with beach plum blossoms. Tall tulip trees danced in the wind, adorned with white flowers and flanked by white oak and tall chestnut trees. Mosh happily sat in the wagon with his head over the rail, mouth open and tongue out, flying in the breeze.

  As they entered the old wooden gate of the fort, now hanging open wide, Patience’s heart was heavy. She breathed deeply and said a prayer for the native people. Barnabas’s strong arms lifted her down, and then he turned to help Mary. They took Abbey and Misha’s hands, and together they walked toward the longhouse. It had a covered area like a large porch that in years past had served as a place for the women to boil maple syrup or make shell beads. Old buckets lay abandoned, and the ground was littered with broken oyster shells. Large chunks of the roof lay on the ground, and she thought back to the last time she was here, at Heather Flower’s funeral.

  Patience put her hand to her throat. It ached with grief for the people who had been here before. She missed Winnie and Heather Flower so. She struggled as she tried to talk to Abbey and Misha. “I just want you to know how sorry I feel to see your people go. I know the Hortons and the Youngses and all of the families who were here to found Southold must feel as I do. But it seems there is no going back, and we can only move forward. And it makes me wonder why, in order to achieve something great, good things die. We try to do the right thing. But we are far from perfect. We make mistakes, and I fear this was one of them. May God forgive us.”

  Abbey and Misha took Patience and Mary in their arms, and soon Lizzie and Anna came to join the weeping women. They walked down the path to the river, wailing and mourning their loss.

  Patience settled on a stone ledge overlooking the river, with Mosh at her side. She spread her skirt over her knees and hugged them close to her body. A log, half submerged, bobbed with the river flow. Abbey pointed upward, and all eyes traveled to a majestic bald eagle sitting high on a nest as wide as Patience was tall.

  Mary spoke in a soft voice. “Winnie used to tell us that the same eagles came back here year after year. Do you think he is the same one? Where is his mate?”

  Abbey nodded. “It might be. He probably has eggs in that nest. His mate would not be far. They are sacred birds to my people.”

  “They are beautiful.” Patience’s voice was low like Mary’s, in awe of the bird.

  Lizzie, Mary, and Patience told stories to Abbey and Misha about Winnie and Heather Flower. They talked about the early years when they learned so much about survival from Winnie and the tragedy of Heather Flower’s wedding to Keme and then the craziness before she married Dirk. Anna said the mos
t amazing thing to her was God’s timing. It was so hard at the time to know why things happened as they did, but God had a plan for each of them.

  Jeremy had officiated Heather Flower and Dirk’s wedding. It was the only thought of Jeremy that Patience allowed herself as they sat there. He’d come for two brief visits since Plow Day, and it almost hurt worse to see him for what seemed like moments than to have him gone. He worked hard in Winter Harbor so that they soon could be together forever. She clung to that and loved him all the more for it. But it didn’t make the separation any easier.

  As the sunny day turned to dusk, they listened to the crickets compete with the incessant call of the whippoorwill. They could see wood smoke rise in a curl above the tree line, and the aroma of meat roasting reminded them of their growing hunger.

  Patience came up the path lighthearted and glad she had this connection to these wonderful people. Mosh mirrored her mood and trotted beside her. Mary and Lizzie returned her smile as they entered the hut that had once belonged to Winnie. The few families who remained at the fort had brought together the bounty of their hunt and the dried corn and apples from their larder to provide a feast for their guests.

  The spring evening was cool, and they sat near the fire, listening to the Corchaug people share their own memories. Mercy, Little Mary, Sarah, and even Hannah leaned into the arms of Mary, Lizzie, Abbey, and Patience. As the evening grew late and Mercy fell asleep, they said their goodbyes and climbed into the wagon. Mosh curled at Patience’s feet. She could hear Barnabas singing in his beautiful baritone, but she couldn’t make out the words. She leaned her head back and saw the stars ablaze and looked over at Mary.

  Mary smiled. “Yes, I’m searching the heavens for a new star. Heather Flower looks down on us, I just know, with Winnie, and they’re smiling.”

  Lizzie laughed. “Or tsking us.”

  Patience grinned and settled back. She was happy this night. True, she’d be happier when Jeremy was with her. But that time would come. She just prayed it would be soon.

  She slept soundly, hugging Mosh close, and when morning light broke through her window, she threw back her quilt and ran to the window. She pushed open the casement and breathed in the brisk, cool air. “I love a new day, Mosh. God gives us a fresh start every day we wake.”

  She settled in a soft chair and read her Bible and said her morning prayers. She ran down the stairs to let Mosh run in her garden, her robe pulled close about her as she watched him romp through rambling honeysuckle and roses and drifts of foxglove and lavender. She needed to spend a day in her English garden, nipping spent buds and pulling weeds.

  But her little girls were coming for their last day of class. They followed almost the same schedule as the boys’ school most weeks, but during planting season, they returned to classes while the boys helped their fathers in the fields. Today she planned a special day for her girls.

  She wandered back to the kitchen and scooted a chair over to her shelves. From the top shelf, she took six of her mother’s blue-and-white Delft cups and plates and brought them down to the table. She took six of her finest white napkins from her linen trunk. Her students were invited to bring their very favorite poppet and wear their church dresses.

  She went back up the stairs to change into her own gown, a pretty yellow floral with much lace about the neck. She let her hair down and brushed through it twenty times and then twisted it back into place and secured it with her ivory combs. She finished her ritual with a quick pinch on her cheeks and pressed her lips together to bring out their color.

  She floated down the stairs and went to check on her wolf-dog. He chased a rabbit under the fence as she stepped out. “Mosh! You leave him alone.” He trotted to her and followed behind as she plucked some pretty coneflowers and daisies to make a bouquet for the table.

  As she entered the back door, she heard the girls arriving at the front. She’d invited Lizzie, Abbey, and Misha to the party. Mary and Anna would be working in the bakery. Mosh ran ahead to greet them, and she listened to their happy chatter as she dipped the vase in the bucket for water and added the flowers. She set them on the table and admired them for a moment. Flowers reminded her of pretty weddings, but she still had no idea when hers would be. Perhaps she should make a trip to Winter Harbor on the morrow. She had not been there since Christmas Day. It would be nice to see how the ship looked.

  She set out scones and crocks of butter as the girls made their way into the kitchen. “Oh my. Look at you young ladies.”

  The little girls curtsied. “Good morrow, Miss Terry.” Their faces were scrubbed, and their dolls had been cleaned and pressed, too—she could tell.

  “Good morrow to you,” she answered and swept into a deep curtsey.

  She sent each of her students to the shelf for jam and honey while she set a bowl of berries on the table. She had made lemonade like Mary taught her and had hot sage tea she hoped they would at least try if she added enough milk.

  When the three girls were seated around the table, each with their doll next to them, Patience instructed them before they ate that they must make introductions, and after the introductions they must wait for the blessing.

  Mercy was the youngest, but she always was ready to talk. “I am Mercy, and this is my poppet, Marcy.” She dissolved into giggles when she said the doll’s name.

  Abbey and Patience hid a laugh while Misha oohed over the doll. “Is her name part Mercy, part Mary?”

  Little Mary spoke right up. “Yes, she thinks it’s funny, but I think it’s a pretty name.”

  “Why, I do, too.” Patience had Mary and Lilly, the last of the three, recite their introductions, and then they folded their hands to pray. The little girls looked so much like angels, and she would miss them over their short break.

  After their refreshments, they went to the garden to play games. Their poppets were propped up on the bench to watch, and Patience and Abbey sat with them as Misha helped the girls line up. Falling Bridge was their favorite game, and they played it over and over again, chasing one another with Mosh right in the middle of the fun.

  They played hoops until everyone was sufficiently worn out, and then Patience presented each girl with their certificate for a year complete. She’d started the year with six girls, which dwindled to three, but it was not unusual to lose half. Often, as young as they were, a mother would need her daughter at home to help with some of the chores. It made her sad because it seemed a waste of a precious mind, but she understood how difficult it was in this land to raise a family.

  She sent her charges home and looked about her house. Lizzie had gone home for the rest of the day, and it was empty and lonely. It occurred to her that Jeremy and Harry needed something to eat besides fried fish. She would make them some meat pies and go to the bakery to buy some nice loaves of bread and cakes to take to them.

  She would do her shopping first. Perhaps stop by the mercantile and pick out some nice currants to put in her pies and then go on to Mary’s. Cooking could wait until tonight. She took off her apron and ran her hand over her hair. It seemed to be in place. “Come, Mosh. You may go with me.” He wagged half of his body with his tail and followed her out.

  She bustled about the shop, scooped some currants into a bag, and stopped to admire the beeswax candles. No doubt Mary had made those. She stepped to the counter behind the gentleman Mr. Danbye was assisting. He turned slightly, and she exclaimed, “Reverend Hobart, why, what a surprise.”

  “Indeed, and a pleasant one. You were going to call me Joshua, remember?”

  Her neck was warm, and she put a hand up to her collar. “Yes, Joshua. Good morrow to you.” She turned toward the shopkeeper. “And you, Mr. Danbye.”

  Mr. Danbye nodded his greeting. “Miss Terry.”

  “I am so surprised to see you back in Southold, Reverend.”

  “Reverend Youngs was good enough to invite me back to speak this Sunday in church. Will you be attending, Patience?”

  “Yes, definitely yes.�
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  “Very good.” Joshua took his bag from the shopkeeper. “Good day, Patience.”

  “Good day, Joshua. I shall see you Sunday.”

  He nodded and stepped out.

  She stepped up to Mr. Danbye with her purchase and rolled her eyes at her own feeling of ill ease. She did not know whence it came from, but by the time she got to Mary’s, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Mosh settled on a rug in the parlor, and Muffkin plopped next to him. Mary led her back to the kitchen. “You are going to Winter Harbor?”

  “Yes, and I cannot wait. ’Tis been too long since I saw Jeremy, and even longer since I’ve seen that ship they are building. And I enjoy Harry so much.”

  “Wonderful.” Mary’s eyes lit up. “You must take some of the best bread—I put some onion and cheese in this one—they shall love it, and take some ginger cakes, too. And he especially likes these apple tarts, so let me put some in with the cakes.”

  They flitted around the kitchen with cloth sacks, filling them with the baked goods. “You know, Jeremy loves the clotted cream,” Mary said. “Let me put some in a crock for you.”

  “Mmm. I love it, too.” Patience dipped her finger in it for a taste as Mary skimmed it from a large earthenware pan.

  “This has sat for two nights now. It should be very good.” Mary handed her a loaf of sugar and the sugar shears. “Here, shave some of this over the top. Make sure he stirs it.”

  “I shall want to make this for him often, I think. How do you make it?”

  “Oh, ’tis easy. Let me write it for you.”

  While Patience topped the cream with sugar, Mary took her quill and a piece of paper and sat at the table.

  Mary’s Clotted Cream

  Set two gallons of the first milk of the day over a hot fire. When it boils, pour in a quart of sweet cream. Take it off the fire and pour through a fine sieve into a large crock or earthenware pan. Let it stand in a warm place for two days and two nights without stirring. Take it off with a skimmer and strew with sugar before serving.