To Follow Her Heart

by Rebecca DeMarino

  She climbed the stairs for the last time to dress for the day. She’d picked her green velvet dress and a Lizzie hat with a broad brim and satin sash to match it. Barnabas and Mary would be bringing the wagon, and she skipped down the stairs to watch for them. Mosh pushed past her as if he were more excited than she. But as she walked through the kitchen to the parlor, her excitement waned and turned to a melancholy she knew would only lift by getting on the ship.

  She opened her front door wide to watch the snow fall. She laughed when, around the corner, Stargazer came jingling all the way, pulling the red sled. This day would always be a picture in her mind, Southold in December.

  Lizzie, Abbey, and Anna were in the sled with Mary. Joshua Hobart sat in front with Barnabas. Another wagon filled with Hortons and driven by Benjamin rode up behind.

  She called with a laugh, “You are early, you know!” Mosh barked as he took a leap into the sled and the ladies all feigned fright.

  “Get in,” said Barnabas. “We are taking you down to see Hallock’s Landing before you go. You cannot leave without a last look.”

  She ran to get her cloak and valise and scooped up the little apple tree Mary’s girls had given her for Christmas. She took one look back as she walked down the flagstone and only hesitated a moment.

  They all drove down to the landing, did a swoop without getting out, and then headed for Winter Harbor and the rest of her life. She looked back over her shoulder and watched the Landing until they rounded a bend. She remembered her father carrying her mother through the waves to the shore while she waited back in the shallop for him to come back and fetch her. She could remember her fear.

  She shook her head and turned to face Mary. Mary’s kind eyes, like turquoise pools, searched her own. “Don’t worry, Patience. You shall be all right. God shall keep you in His arms, this I pray.”

  Stargazer stepped into a faster clip when they reached the main road to Winter Harbor, and soon they arrived at the dock. Her breath caught. Over the week, Harry had The Annabelle lowered into the bay. Her sails were unfurled. Harry stood on the deck. They were ready to go.

  Joshua helped her down while Harry came down the plank to greet them all. Fresh tears were shed, and there was not a one who didn’t have a tremble in their touch when they hugged her.

  Mrs. Sweeney came out. “I know you haven’t an appetite right now, dear, but I made you a bite to take with you. Share it with Harry for supper. His cook can start in on the morrow.” She kissed Patience’s cheek and hurried away.

  Mary grabbed her and wrapped her in an embrace. She wept as she told Patience, “Try to bring Jeremy home to us. You both come home.”

  “Oh, Mary, I shall try. But I don’t know what to expect when I get there. And perhaps I can do this once, but I don’t believe I shall ever be able to do it again.”

  “But promise me, if he is willing, you shall be, too. I must know there is at least a chance.”

  Patience held her hands. “Then yes, there is a chance. That much I shall say.”

  At last they could not delay any longer, and she took Harry’s arm and walked up the plank with him. Her knees knocked under her petticoats, and her throat had all but closed. She could not speak, so she just prayed.

  She stood on the aft gallery and waved to the Hortons, the Fannings, the Youngses, and Joshua Hobart and didn’t stop until the thin purplish line of the shore receded into the horizon and all she saw was water. She closed her eyes and prayed for a safe voyage. But she prayed, too, for Jeremy. For she hoped he would welcome her when he saw her, but she feared he would not. And standing on the deck praying, she realized for the first time the fear of his rejection was greater than her fear of drowning at sea.

  43

  December 1, 1665

  Mowsley, England

  Jeremy stood back with Henry, arms folded, and assessed their handiwork. His funds from London had been slow to arrive due to the plague. But his banker had sent them, and now fifteen timber-framed cottages stood in a row. They backed up to the stream and were located near the mill Jeremy hoped to eventually restore.

  He sent Henry off to Mowsley to buy bedding and a few supplies while he helped the families move from the manor. The men and women grew stronger each day with proper food to nourish them. And the children thrived.

  It was difficult to decide which needed his attention more—his house or building a barn. He decided to move into the house now that he had his workers and their families in their own cottages. It didn’t matter much to him the condition. But a barn would enable him to put some of his men back to work.

  The barn was raised and livestock purchased in less than a week. He bought several more cows and two goats from Saddington, and soon the women were making cheese and butter. From Gumley he bought a herd of sheep and several swine. In Mowsley he found a spinning wheel for Rose Gibson, the widow of his overseer.

  The estate was humming with activity, and he turned his attention to the house. He requested Rose stay in one of the rooms that suffered the least damage. She would run the house, such as it was, as he rebuilt.

  Over the weeks since he’d arrived, he’d spent little time clearing the debris. It was a painful process, sorting through family heirlooms. Some were destroyed to such a degree he was not certain what they even were. Only that the object once was important to someone.

  Other belongings he left for Rose to determine if they were worth a cleaning or repair. Progress was slow, but at long last, he and Henry and many of the mill workers began the restoration of the house. Henry made daily trips to Saddington for timber or brick.

  They began with the kitchen and his living quarters. The rest of the rooms could be restored one at a time with his mill workers and their families finally settled. He’d spared no expense on the cottages and barn, and he would spare no expense on the house. He wanted it restored to what it had been when his parents had lived here. Rose brought in some of the ladies to help her with furnishing the rooms as construction was completed.

  The mill construction would not begin until early spring. The impact of the loss of the mill was great on the surrounding villages. For the little grain that survived the fires, there was no mill to process it.

  Still, when he rode old Nell around the property, he was thankful for what he saw. The people were resilient, and the estate was recovering. He put the horse back in her stall and walked up to the house. Inside, the smell of smoke, so different than the normal cooking odors, still permeated the air.

  Rose was in the kitchen cooking. “Will you be hungry soon, Mr. Horton? I’ve fixed a proper supper.”

  He chuckled because he knew she was teasing him about his dish with bread and currants and milk. He’d thought he’d made a pudding, but they’d called it a sweet gruel. “Aye. I am ready whenever it is.”

  He went up the stairs to his room. The trunk he’d brought from Southold still sat in the corner. He’d looked inside only long enough to pull out a change of breeches and a couple of shirts. Mayhap he should unpack and get settled in this room. He got up and opened the lid again. He had a few neck cloths he’d need over the winter, an extra belt, and some books Barnabas had given him. At the bottom, where he’d stashed them, were Patience’s ivory combs. He’d tried to put a wall up against his feelings for her, but her words to him still stung like she’d just flung them at him.

  He sat back down, the combs clutched in his hands, his head bent down to rest on his arms. How different his life was now, changed in an instant when he was thrown into the ocean. And then again in a flash with the fire. But this was where God wanted him, and when he looked into the faces of the mill workers and their wives and children, he had no doubt this was where he needed to be.

  If Patience could not see that, then he’d been wrong about her. And truly, it was best he had found that out before they’d married.

  44

  December 4, 1665

  The Annabelle, Atlantic Ocean

  If Patience had thought the voyage wou
ld be easy after all of the well-wishes of her friends, she found out how wrong she was by the second day. Harry had told her the weather would be rough, but she’d not imagined anything like the high seas they were sailing through. To use his terms, when the starboard came up until she thought the ship might tip, she now knew it would come down with a crash, and waves would send the ship portside up. They’d clearly left Long Island during the worst season.

  He’d hired a pilot to guide the ship, and though he was still the captain, it gave her peace of mind and him the time to spend with her. The ship was well staffed, and the cook was excellent. She heard the ship’s bell ring every half hour and found it comforted her as a reminder all was well.

  The saving grace of it all, of course, was her beautiful cabin—and Mosh. In the early days, she couldn’t venture out. She welcomed Harry when he joined her for meals, but she had no appetite. He often came to play his flute for her or to ask her to read to him, which she gladly did, as it took her mind off the rising storms. Mosh did not leave her side.

  Several weeks had gone by, and she remained in her cabin. One evening, Harry knocked at her door. As she walked to the door, she noticed she was not swaying and grasping at furniture to stay upright. When she pulled the door open, Harry was grinning, his blue eyes bright.

  “Ye have to come out on the deck tonight, child.” He took her hand and pulled her along. Mosh wagged his tail and followed.

  The sea was dark but calm. The sky was a canopy of navy blue with a thousand points of light. The shimmer and sparkle took her breath away. A silvery slice of moon hung in the sky like a dainty slipper. Harry pointed to the brightest star. “Do ye know what that is?” In his excitement he didn’t wait for her answer. “’Tis yer North Star. It will take ye home to Jeremy.”

  They stood there a long time, and Harry told her of celestial navigation and pointed out the dippers and Milky Way. “Did not Jeremy ever tell ye these things?”

  “Oh, I remember he did long ago. He was teaching Joseph, Barnabas’s oldest son, all about it because Joseph wanted to learn. I think I was so sick of the sea, I didn’t care to learn much about it. Though I’ve always loved to gaze at the stars.” She shivered in the cold.

  “They are brilliant tonight, but it makes the air seem colder.”

  “It is cold. Do you think we are past the worst of the storms?”

  “I think anything can happen, but expect more storms before we reach London. Now let me take ye to yer cabin, or we need to get yer cloak.”

  “Remember when we sat on your old trunk at the wharf? Freezing?”

  His chuckle was soft. “Aye, I do.”

  “Did you bring it?”

  He looked up at the stars, scattered like shattered ice. “I did, and methinks I should bring it out to the deck on the morrow, in case we can sit out and stare at the sky again.”

  “And I think that is an excellent idea.”

  The next afternoon, he not only had the trunk sitting on the deck, but his fishing gear, too. “I thought ye needed to be out of that cabin whilst we have calm weather.” He held up a wooden handline. “I have one for ye.” He showed her the cork and willow floats and taught her how to set the line. She thrilled at the pull when a fish bit, and she hauled three in before Harry had one. Of course, he helped her bring them in. Mosh ran back and forth with each one.

  That night after dining on their fresh-caught fish, they sat on the trunk and watched the starry night sky. Harry told her old sea stories and asked her if Jeremy had ever shared his with her.

  “Oh yes, and sometimes more than once.” She giggled.

  Another night, as they sat under the stars, she asked him what he thought he would do after they got to London. “You’ll come with me to Mowsley, won’t you, Harry?” She scratched Mosh’s head on her lap.

  “Ah, I would like to see Jeremy, so if ye’ll have me, I will come. But after that, I think I’ll take to the sea. I’ve lived on land, and I’ve sailed on the sea. I thought I couldn’t anymore, but we’ve proved that wrong, now, haven’t we? Methinks I’d rather die on the sea than be landlocked the rest of my life. I know ’tis something hard for ye to understand, hating the ocean like ye do.”

  She let the motion of the ship lull her as she considered what he’d said. “I’m not so sure I hate it, Harry, at least not anymore. ’Tis funny, but it was so long ago that I thought I hated it. I must have. But it is different now. I’m not sure why, it just is.”

  Harry chuckled. “Ye cannot say it’s because of the weather. And by the by, it changes tonight. Have you noticed the wind pick up?”

  She shivered in her cloak. “I did. We are going to have a storm?”

  “Aye. Ye will want to be in yer cabin anyway, and to be sure, that will be the best place for ye.”

  They sat until the clouds moved in and obscured the stars. A few splatters of rain pelted them before Patience hurried to her cabin with Mosh, and Harry went to find the pilot to confer with him.

  When her brush and mirror began to slide from the desk, she grabbed them and tucked them beneath her pillow. She sat on the bed and clutched the covers whenever the ship swayed. Mosh jumped up and curled up next to her. It would only get worse, and she breathed deeply to calm her fears. She remembered Joshua’s words—“Put God first”—and she pulled out her Bible and began to read in Psalms. Her racing heart slowed, and her breathing calmed.

  She lay down and watched the lantern by her door. The flame was out, but it swung back and forth, and each swing seemed faster than the last. She heard a wave crash on the porthole and watched fat drops trickle down the black glass. The chair she used at the desk slid across the room and hit her trunk with such force a leg snapped.

  Her heart throbbed, and her pulse beat in her temples. Mosh trembled next to her, and she hugged him tight. The rocking slowed for a time, and she scooted down in the bed and pulled the covers up. The storm seemed to subside, and she closed her eyes, still clutching her covers and her dog. The patter on the porthole was almost soothing. If she could but sleep, she would never know how close she might come to death. She thought of Mary and Lizzie and seeing Jeremy again. She forced herself to think happy thoughts, and she began to drift into sleep.

  A thunderous crash shattered her slumber, and she sat bolt upright and screamed. Her shriek frightened Mosh so badly he jumped from the bed and tried to get under it, but to no avail. It sat on a wooden base. He was back up on the bed as quickly as he had gotten down.

  Patience thought the ceiling was falling down, but when she opened her eyes, the rafters appeared to be in place. But the next moment, it seemed like the bed was above the rafters, so far over was the ship. Almost tossed from the bed, she held on to the sides with every ounce of strength she could summon.

  When the ship righted, water poured under her door, and she was certain the ship was sinking. Where was Harry? Why didn’t he come and get her? The boat lurched again. It bucked and lurched over and over. It reminded her of a time she was in a wagon and the horse reared and the wagon tipped. She was going to be sick.

  She forced herself to get out of the bed, and her legs shook so badly she could not walk. She sat down, and finally she crawled to the chamber pot and retched into the bowl. No sooner had she filled it than another lurch of the ship tossed it from her hands, and the contents flew to the other side of the room. Her wails could not be heard above the relentless roar of the waves.

  Harry had told her to stay in the cabin, but she had to get out. The ship was going to sink, and she’d die right here in this cabin. She tore the top bedcover off and wrapped it around her. “Mosh, come.” He whined and moved away from her. “Mosh, don’t do that. You must stay with me. Come now.” He got up, his tail between his legs, and trotted to her. He licked her face. “Don’t. Follow me.”

  She still could not walk, so she scooted across the floor between the ship’s rolls. When she got to the door, she pulled herself up. She pushed on the door. It didn’t budge. She heaved against it with h
er shoulder, and still it didn’t move. She turned her back to it and slid down. She wept as she hit the floor and put her head to her knees. Why wouldn’t the door open? What was happening out there? She screamed Harry’s name and listened. She screamed again. He didn’t come. No one came.

  She thought she heard voices. She held very still and quiet and listened. Mosh got up and wiggled to her, and she hushed him and made him sit while she strained to hear anything she could. All she heard was the incessant crashing of waves on the deck, followed by water streaming in under her door. It didn’t seem to be filling her cabin, but she thought by the time night was done, she’d be swimming or drowned.

  The little apple tree lay on its side and Mosh whined as she stretched to retrieve it. She hugged the tree and Mosh to herself and began to pray. She fell asleep against the door with Mosh sitting next to her, guarding her in a way, but really too afraid to do anything else. She opened her eyes when she heard a board moved from her door. She looked at the porthole while she waited for the door to be opened. It was gray, and rain still pattered, though gently.

  When the cabin boy opened the door, she was horrified. Nothing outside her door had remained the same. She grabbed his arm. “What’s happened? Where’s Harry?”

  “Everything is all right, miss. Captain Dunning is on the quarterdeck. We’ve had a bad storm. That is all, miss.”

  She was amazed he’d said, “That is all.” What did that mean? She stepped out of the cabin and went to find Harry. She found him sitting on the trunk, drenched, in the same clothes as she’d last seen him in, and more haggard and dejected than the day she’d come to tell him she’d sail with him.

  “Harry, what happened?”

  He looked up at her, mist in his eyes. “I lost one of me best last night. Could have lost more. Could have lost ye.”

  Her eyes were wide. “What do you mean?”