“Thank you, Mary. I shall put this in my recipe book.” She folded the paper and tucked it inside one of the sacks. “Now, I should be off to bake the meat pies. I bought some currants to put in them. I’ll be baking all night, no doubt. Did I tell you I spoke with Reverend Hobart at Mr. Danbye’s?”
“Nay. He’s back in the village?”
“Yes. He shall be giving the sermon this Sunday. I think he rather has a sweet spot for Rachel Youngs.” She smiled and looked at Mary sideways. “Don’t you think?”
Mary shook her head. “While that would be a good match by any standards, and Rachel is very charming, I hear the reverend thinks of her more as a friend—and a child, at that. At least it does not seem he will be courting her.”
“Oh.” She turned from Mary so that her friend would not see her raised brows. “Well, then, with that, I shall be gone.” They kissed cheeks, and Patience hurried out the kitchen door.
She walked home at a brisk pace with her packages. There was much to do, and she would like a good night’s sleep for her short journey on the morrow. She tended the fire first and built one beneath her oven with the fattest logs. It would need to be hot. Thank goodness the spring nights were still cool.
The meat larder was a little bare, but she found some good pieces of elk to chop for her pies. As she trimmed the pieces, she tossed scraps to Mosh, who sat at the ready to catch anything thrown or dropped.
She boiled the meat and minced it before stirring in suet, chopped apples, and currants. She added cider and then sprinkled in cinnamon, nutmeg, and mace. She set the mixture aside to make her pastry. Mary had taught her a simple crust, but still she pulled out her book to consult the recipe. She wanted these pies to be perfect.
Pastry for Pie
To a quarter peck of flour, rub in half a pound of butter, a little salt, and make it into a light paste with enough cold water to make it just stiff enough to work up. Then roll out flat. Stick a few more pieces of butter on top. Strew some flour and roll up. Roll it out flat again. Do this about twelve times, until you have rolled in about half a pound of butter.
She followed the directions and had enough for two pies. Satisfied with her results, she filled her finished pastries with the meat mixture. The oven was hot with white ash, and she slid the pies onto its floor. While they baked, she took a bottle of rosewater and beat a few spoonfuls into an egg. Halfway through the baking, she’d open the oven door and brush the crusts with the mixture. Mary had taught her the method, and she loved the golden color it produced.
She cleaned her kitchen as the pies baked and thought about what she might wear for her visit. She decided on a very simple blue linen gown with narrow bands of lace trim. She’d wear her favorite Lizzie hat—a straw one with blue ribbons. The horse she would use belonged to the horse troop, but with the worry of an attack somewhat alleviated, they could loan a horse and wagon for the day.
At last she could smell the pies, and Mosh followed her to check them. She brushed her rosewater mixture over them and then busied herself in the kitchen while they finished baking. When they were done and out of the oven, she cooled them on a ledge high enough that Mosh could not reach them, if he were so inclined during the night.
With candle in hand, she climbed the stairs so exhausted she wanted to close her eyes before she made it to the top. She removed her apron and slipped from her dress, crawling with gratitude into her bed. Her prayers were brief, so tired she was, and she drifted to sleep still thanking the Lord for the day to come.
30
May 12, 1665
Winter Harbor
Jeremy and Harry sat on the trunk and wiped sweat from their brow. If Harry were a rich shipbuilder, he’d have hired spar makers. His inheritance money would go only so far, though, and as it was, he’d spared no expense on materials, but it was Jeremy who’d crafted the foremast, mainmast, and mizzen, and a bowsprit from the straight white pine shipped from Boston. They’d installed them today, and Harry was thrilled with the result.
“I could hire a joiner to do the finish work, but that would take our profits. What do ye think of building the deck houses? And the galley?”
“Truly, I’m not a carpenter,” Jeremy said.
“Pshaw. Look at those masts. Finer work I haven’t seen done.” Harry struggled to turn and look back at the planked ship in dry dock. Undaunted, he continued. “We need hatches and of course the master cabin.” He finally looked at Jeremy, his blue eyes bright above his ruddy cheeks.
“You do not see this is quite possibly beyond my scope of ability? What say you I ask Benjamin to lend us a hand?”
“It will take him the summer.” Harry stared out at the water.
“That is my calculation, as well. But without him we’ll be lucky to finish at all.” What would Patience think about all of this? He studied the sun, low on the horizon. “I’m thinking Patience should have arrived by now, Harry. She sent a message and gave me the impression she’d be here early.”
“Why, I think she should have. ’Tis about time for us to be finding some supper at Mrs. Sweeney’s.”
“Methinks you should go ahead. I’m going to mount up and go take a look.” He didn’t wait for Harry to get up. He clapped his shoulder and trotted to the livery to fetch Ink.
He urged his horse to a gallop down the main road on the way to Southold. The oaks and chestnuts, now in full leaf, were but a blur. He rounded a curve in the road, and his surefooted steed almost stumbled over the cart. Patience sat in a heap on the ground beside it, reins still in her hand. The bay she had borrowed from the livery stood quietly. She looked up at Jeremy with swollen eyes, a patchy red complexion, and tearstained cheeks.
Mosh sprang from her lap, but when Patience did not stand, Jeremy threw himself from Ink and ran to her. “What has happened?”
“I—I broke my ankle, I am sure. We hit a rock, and I fell from the wagon. I think the wheel is broken, too. I was so frightened that it would get dark and no one would come.”
“I could not let it get dark, knowing that you should be on your way.” He bent to her ankle and ran his hand over the tender swelling. He pressed and moved her foot up and down. “I don’t think it is broken. I think you have only sprained it, but I know it hurts.” He strained to look over his shoulder at the wagon. “I see. I think we need to leave the cart and take the horse with us. I’ll put you on his back and lead him with Ink.”
“Oh no, we cannot, Jeremy.”
He pushed himself to a standing position. “Why not?”
“I have so much to bring with me. I have bread and jams and clotted cream. And two meat pies. All for you and Harry.” Her eyes were watering again.
“That sounds wonderful, but it will have to wait. The important thing is to get you off this foot and get it wrapped. You might have to see Doctor Smith yet.” He reached down to wipe her tears with his finger. “There, let me unhitch the horse, and I’ll get you out of here. Does he have a name?”
“Yes, Chester.”
“Oh ho.” He patted the horse’s nose. “Well, Chester, you’ve behaved remarkably well.” He released the cart and turned to gather Patience. He put his arms around and beneath her and swooped her atop Chester.
She winced and groaned.
“Do you hurt anywhere else? Is it just your ankle?”
“Prithee, I’m all right. ’Tis just my ankle.”
She looked so pathetic he forced himself to reevaluate the situation. He removed one of the side boards and lashed it to the harness. After securing her bundles onto the board, he stepped back. That would work. He looked up at Patience.
She gave him a small smile. “Thank you. This means much to me. I stayed up so late last night to bring you these gifts I fear I am exhausted now. How shall I ever get home?”
He swung up into his saddle. “Don’t think about that yet. We are not far at all from Winter Harbor. Mrs. Sweeney will have to agree to let you stay the night. I’ll fix the wagon in the morning and escort you home. I think
the doc will still need to look at you.”
They rode into Winter Harbor, Jeremy holding a lead tied to the harness and Mosh trailing the whole contraption. Mrs. Sweeney jumped into action when she saw Patience’s condition. She wrapped a poultice tight around her ankle and soon had her propped up on her own bed. When Patience queried where Mrs. Sweeney would sleep, she hushed her and said not to worry.
Jeremy saw her arrange a pallet in the parlor before he and Harry left for their own bunks. “Thank you for taking care of her, Mrs. Sweeney.”
“Oh, ’tis nothing” was her reply, but he knew she would not do that for just anyone.
The next day, Jeremy carried Patience from Mrs. Sweeney’s to the dock and set her on Harry’s trunk. He swept his arm toward the ship. “She is almost finished. Do you like her?”
Her eyes grew big, and she caught her breath. “She’s beautiful, Jeremy. I cannot believe it.”
“I don’t want to leave you with the impression that she will be completed soon. Harry says it will take us most of the summer to do the final work. When I take you back to Southold today, I must visit Benjamin. I’m going to ask him for his help in building the cabins and galley.”
“I think he will help you, yes?” There was a little-girl quality to her voice that made Jeremy want it to be so.
“Yes, if he has no other commitments.”
Harry thanked her profusely for the meat pies, breads, and sweets, and Mrs. Sweeney came out for one last goodbye before they rode back to the wagon in much the same manner that they’d come. Determined to keep her off her ankle, Jeremy transferred her from Chester’s back to the wagon seat after he’d made the repairs.
He handed her the reins. “I think you might have been going too fast. Take your time, let Chester take the lead.” He looked down the road. “Actually, I’ll take the lead, let Chester follow.” She leaned toward him, and he put his hand behind her head and pulled her into a kiss. He grinned at her, then climbed onto Ink. “Let’s go.”
He took her straight to the doctor’s house. Doctor Smith unwrapped her ankle and, after a brief examination, declared he’d not have done a thing differently. He rewrapped it and instructed her to stay off of it until she could step without pain.
As he helped her back into the wagon, Jeremy leaned close. “I didn’t tell you that my years as a sea captain taught me many things. I was doctor, lawyer, and preacher to many a seagoing lad.”
Next stop was the Hortons’. Jeremy did not wish to delay asking Benjamin to come work with him. Anna was with Mary in the bakery and told him he’d find Benjamin and Barnabas out in the lower cornfield.
He hesitated to leave. “Will you be all right, Patience?”
Mary’s eyebrows shot up, and she put her hands on her hips. “And why would she not? We shall not let her even think of stepping on that foot.” She turned to her friend. “I think a cup of lavender tea is what you need.”
Jeremy backed away. “Very well, then, I’ll go find Benjamin.” Mosh followed him out.
He traipsed down through the orchard, the quickest way to the lower field. His brother and Benjamin were in the middle of the field, bent over the tender young stalks. Puffy clouds sailed through a blue sky, and he was struck for a moment by the scene. “Heigh-ho there.”
“Jeremy, what a pleasant surprise.” Barnabas stepped over the rows to meet him. “What brings you out here?”
“I’ve come to talk to Benjamin.” He watched as Benjamin caught up.
“Hello, Uncle. What can I do for you?”
Jeremy explained in detail what he needed done on the ship.
Benjamin’s eyes traveled to his father. “What say you? I’d be here helping you if not in Winter Harbor. Can you spare me?”
Barnabas wiped a trickle of sweat from his cheek with his sleeve. “It would just mean I would use Jonathan more, and that’s not a bad thing. He’s ready to start doing a man’s work. I’ve got Caleb and Joshua, too. You help your uncle.” He looked at Jeremy. “You wouldn’t ask if you didn’t need him. And you won’t find a better carpenter than Benjamin here.”
“That I know. Thank you, Barn. And thank you, Benjamin. You tell me when you can start. We were ready for you yesterday.” He clapped his nephew on the shoulder, then offered him his hand.
Benjamin cocked his head with a grin as he shook it. “I can tell Anna our plans tonight. And can you stay through tomorrow? That way we could finalize our plans after church.”
Barnabas broke in. “And young Hobart will be delivering the sermon in the morning.”
“Excellent. I will make sure Patience arrives at church safely, and after services we can go over the details.”
“Is everything all right with Patience?” Barnabas frowned.
“She was thrown from the wagon, but she is all right. She sprained her ankle and will need some help for a while. Benjamin, perhaps Anna might do her the favor?”
“Good thought. I’ll ask her when we talk tonight.”
He left the two to figure out what to do with their corn and walked back to the house quite satisfied. He’d let Barn and Benjamin share the plans with their wives, and he’d take Patience and Mosh home.
“Did you talk to Benjamin?” Patience asked on their ride back to her house.
“Yes, and I thought he seemed eager. And Barn was fine with the plan, even though he could probably use his help in the field.”
She settled her head on his shoulder. “That is wonderful. ’Tis a beautiful ship, Jeremy.”
“And you are a wonderful, beautiful lady, Patience. Thank you for being so understanding in all of this. I know it hasn’t been easy. But it won’t go on forever.”
31
May 14, 1665
Southold
Patience sat in the chair and directed Anna to the shelf with the butter crock. Anna had come last night to put her to bed and came again early to help her get dressed for church. Patience wore a gray dress with plain white linen cuffs and collar, to which she added a gray felt hat. It was one that Heather Flower had beaded, and she liked to wear it to church.
Jeremy arrived in time to sit down for a breakfast of eggs, and then he helped both ladies into the cart. It was a short ride down the lane, but this was the only way Patience could go. Oh, he’d suggested he could carry her, but she was quite sure he’d been teasing.
This was the first Sunday he insisted she sit in the Horton pew box, and it pleased her very much. Anna walked ahead to join Benjamin, and Patience leaned on Jeremy as he escorted her to the front. That they had a guest to deliver the sermon this morning made it all the more compelling. She often found herself stiff sitting on the hard pews, struggling to pay attention. Often her feet felt cold even on warm May days. But today she was quite certain, despite her injury, that she’d be awake and attentive, so nervous she was to be in this pew.
Usually she could see most everyone, because the single ladies sat close to the back. As a hush fell over the congregation, she fought an urge to turn around and look. Instead she took a sideways peek at Jeremy, then darted a look to the right, where Anna sat. She welcomed it when Reverend Youngs stood to lead the first hymn.
Several hymns and prayers later, Reverend Joshua Hobart stood to deliver his sermon. Patience turned her face toward him, ready to listen to this man so many had been talking about. Certainly everyone in the room was interested in what the young Hobart had to say.
He put his open Bible on the tall table in front of him and stepped to the side. “This morning I will be talking to you about disappointment. How many of you have been hurt by the disappointments that follow each of us? We are plagued by ‘if only’ and ‘I would have’ instead of ‘what does God have for me to do now?’ Falling in the quagmire of ‘should have’ only leads to hurt and disappointment.
“And how much more hurtful is it when it is someone else pointing the finger? One of my favorite things I used to hear my father say—and actually he got it from another reverend, Mr. Cotton—‘Some men are all chu
rch and no Christ.’”
Patience looked at Jeremy. No one could ever say that about him or Barnabas. Truly, none of the Hortons. She settled back against the hard pew and said her own prayer. She thanked God for her friends, her community, and her church. They had all been through hardship, but they were blessed.
The morning wore on, and eventually they all filed out past both Reverend Youngs and Reverend Hobart, shaking hands. Jeremy congratulated Joshua while Patience leaned hard on his arm. “Excellent sermon, excellent.”
“Thank you. And you shall join us for dinner on the ground? I hear the ladies have been working hard.” Joshua looked at Patience with a question in his eyes.
“Oh, I am not ready for it, actually.”
Jeremy spoke up. “She sprained her ankle on her way to Winter Harbor. Fell from the cart. She’s supposed to stay off of it, but of course I could not persuade her to stay in this morning.”
Alarm flashed in Reverend Hobart’s eyes. “You fell? Were you alone?”
Her cheeks burned. “Yes, but I am all right, really. My ankle is feeling much better today.”
“In the future, you must tell me when you desire to ride out to Winter Harbor. I shall be more than happy to accompany you.” He patted her hand. “And do not even think of coming back to services this afternoon. By all means, stay at home—off that foot.”
Jeremy put his arm around her. “I am taking her home now so that she may get settled. Anna Horton will be attending her.” He steered her out the door and lifted her into the waiting cart. “And so that you know, with Benjamin working with me, he or I will always be available to escort you to Winter Harbor.”
“I shall be taking you up on that offer, Captain Horton.”
Anna stayed with her and Mosh that night, and the two giggled and gossiped most of the evening. They both thought Joshua Hobart would make the perfect husband for Rachel Youngs, and they could not understand why he did not see that.
To Follow Her Heart Page 19