American Dream

Lizzie nodded. “I want to try to make this a nice holiday for Olivia and Emmett. I want them to have wonderful memories of family holidays, even without fancy food.”

  Aunt Johanna chuckled. “They don’t like to eat fancy food anyway.”

  Lizzie smiled, this time sincerely. “You’re right about that. But they do like to play in the snow.” Her face brightened as she tucked a chair under the table. “I think I’ll take all the children outside. We can throw snowballs and pull the sled around.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll help you get them bundled up.”

  “Ahh!” Olivia stuck her tongue out to catch snow flurries. With her arms stretched out wide, she spun around in circles until she tripped over her own feet and collapsed in the snow. Her brother and her cousins followed her lead.

  Lizzie laughed at the sight of the five children, from six to nine years old, sprawled in the powdery snow with their tongues hanging out. It felt good to laugh.

  “This is fun!” Emmett, the youngest, exclaimed joyously.

  “You said we could play on the sled,” Olivia reminded Lizzie.

  “We want the sled!” Christopher joined in.

  Soon all five were repeating the refrain. “We want the sled. We want the sled.”

  “All right, all right, we’ll get the sled.” Lizzie happily gave in to the pressure. She trudged back toward the house and took the sled off its hook. Glancing through a window, she saw Joshua sitting with his uncles. Clearly he considered himself one of the adults. He had far too much on his mind to romp in the snow with children. Lizzie missed the old Joshua, the one who would have been outside acting sillier than all the other children put together.

  Lizzie dropped the sled solidly in the snow.

  “Me first! Me first!” the children all seemed to say.

  One by one, Lizzie dragged the five children in a wide circle around the backyard. The other four clamored behind, throwing snowballs at each other. Seeing their faces and sensing their excitement, Lizzie felt better than she had while setting the table. These children had not taken up sides as either Patriots or Loyalists. They were just children, cousins who enjoyed playing together. She hoped that moments like this one would form their strongest memories.

  But she was exhausted. After five trips around the yard, trudging through the snow as fast as she could, Lizzie pleaded for a chance to rest. Then she would give everyone a second turn.

  “You play by yourselves,” she said. “The older ones can pull the younger ones.”

  “And then you’ll pull us again?” Olivia wanted to be sure the fun was not over.

  “I promise. Just let me sit down for a few minutes.” Lizzie collapsed on the back stoop outside the kitchen and watched as the children continued to streak through the snow with the sled. They squabbled about who would get to ride in front of the sled and which direction to go. But Lizzie welcomed these signs of normal childhood behavior and did not interfere. Perhaps by next Christmas the stamp tax controversy would be over. Boston would settle down again, and the children would indeed have normal childhoods.

  Gradually the children drifted farther and farther back into the yard. Now only the highest pitches of their conversation reached Lizzie’s ears. She had nearly regained her energy, and she thought that at the next sign of a quarrel, she would take over pulling the sled again.

  Lizzie looked up to see Olivia pulling the sled up the hill at the back of the yard.

  “Wait, Olivia!” she called. The hill that divided the Murray property from the neighbors’ was not high, but it was steep. Olivia had never before gone down that hill by herself on a sled. Lizzie jumped to her feet and pushed her way through the snow. Instinct told Lizzie that she should ride down with Olivia.

  But Olivia was too far ahead of Lizzie and had much more energy. Before Lizzie was halfway up the hill, Olivia had seated herself on the sled.

  “Push me!” Olivia demanded. And her cousin Isaac obeyed.

  “No, Olivia!” Lizzie shouted. “Stop!”

  But she knew Olivia could not stop the sled once it was in motion. She held her breath and watched. Olivia squealed with delight as she whizzed past Lizzie on her way down.

  Suddenly, the sled’s left blade hit a rock hidden in the snow. Olivia tumbled off. Lizzie screamed as she saw her little sister land on her head while the sled bumped on down the hill.

  “Olivia!”

  The little girl did not move. Lizzie felt as if time had stopped. The snow felt like iron weights around her ankles. She could not make her feet move fast enough. The other children were scattered around the yard, and they stood still, too stunned to move.

  “Olivia! Are you all right?” Lizzie called out. No answer came. Finally, she reached the girl. Olivia’s eyes were closed, and she lay still. Her chubby face, usually rosy, looked pale against the snow.

  Lizzie frantically looked around the yard to spot the child nearest the house. “Christopher!” she shouted. “Go get Uncle Philip! Tell him to come quickly.”

  Fortunately, Christopher unfroze and ran into the house.

  Lizzie laid her hand against Olivia’s face and called her sister’s name again. Olivia’s arms and legs were sprawled in every direction. With all the thick clothing she was wearing, it was difficult to tell whether any of her bones might have been broken in the tumble. Lizzie was afraid to touch her or try to move her. Lizzie looked toward the back of the house. There was no sign of anyone coming to help.

  “Uncle Philip!” she screamed. She turned to Emmett. “Emmett, go check and see if Christopher found Uncle Philip. Hurry!”

  Obediently Emmett scrambled through the snow toward the house.

  “Olivia,” Lizzie pleaded, “wake up.” Lizzie groped for Olivia’s wrist and tried to find a pulse, as she had seen her uncle do with his patients. But she did not really know what she was doing, and when she could not find the pulse, her panic deepened.

  A hand on her shoulder made her jump.

  “It’s all right, Lizzie, I’m here.” Uncle Philip knelt in the snow and examined Olivia.

  “She landed on her head, Uncle Philip,” Lizzie explained. “She won’t wake up. I think she broke her neck.”

  Uncle Philip shook his head. “No, her neck is fine. I don’t think anything is broken. Her pulse is a little fast, but she’s just been knocked unconscious by the fall.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. I’ll take her in the house. You bring the other children.”

  Uncle Philip gathered Olivia, unconscious, into his strong arms and carried her toward the house.

  “Please, God,” Lizzie said as the tears began to come, “please let Olivia be all right.”

  By the time Uncle Philip laid Olivia on a quilt in front of the fire, she was beginning to moan. The whole family was gathered around.

  “What … happened?” Olivia asked weakly as her eyes fluttered open.

  “You took a spill in the snow,” Uncle Philip said. Olivia smiled. “I went down the hill by myself.” “Yes, you did,” her uncle said softly.

  Constance Murray pushed past her brother to check on her daughter for herself. “We’ll talk about that later, Olivia,” she said sternly. But her voice also held relief.

  Across the room, Lizzie leaned against the wall with her own relief. Olivia could have been seriously hurt, but all she cared about was that she had gone down the hill by herself. Yes, Olivia was all right.

  “She’ll be fine, Lizzie.” Aunt Johanna had come to stand beside her.

  Lizzie nodded. “I know.” She sighed. “I should have been watching her more carefully.”

  “No one is blaming you for the accident.” “I should have known she would try something like this,” Lizzie insisted. “She’s been like this since she was a baby. She has no sense of what might be dangerous.”

  “Lizzie, you cannot watch everyone every minute of every day.”

  Lizzie choked back a sob. “I know—especially not Olivia. She gets into too many things.”


  “That’s right.” Aunt Johanna chuckled. “She’s a very determined child. But you must realize that this was simply a childhood accident. It could have happened to any of the children.”

  Lizzie glanced at the other children gathered around Olivia. Charity and Christopher were teasing her. And Olivia was already planning her next attack on the hill.

  “As I recall,” Aunt Johanna said, “something like this happened to you when you were younger.”

  Lizzie smiled through her tears and nodded. “When I was five, I made wings out of paper from Papa’s shop and thought I could fly. I nearly broke my arm when I jumped off a stack of papers in the back of the cart.” She shivered. She had not even noticed that she was cold.

  “That’s right,” Aunt Johanna said. “Now, why don’t you take that wet cloak off? You’re dripping all over the floor.”

  Lizzie surrendered to her aunt’s attempt to remove the soaked clothing. “Aunt Johanna, in a way I’m glad this happened.” Her aunt raised her eyebrows.

  “I’ve been so worried,” Lizzie explained, “that Joshua would get hurt, or someone would get angry at Papa for what he prints, or that there would be a war. You kept telling me that God is in charge of all those things.”

  “That’s right,” Aunt Johanna said, not quite understanding what Lizzie was getting at.

  “Olivia could have been badly hurt, and it had nothing to do with the stamp tax or Parliament or anything. It was just a sled ride. God is in charge of things like that, too.” Aunt Johanna smiled.

  “This doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be sensible,” Lizzie went on seriously. “I shouldn’t have jumped off that cart, and Olivia shouldn’t have gone down that hill. And I still think that Joshua should stay away from the riots,” Lizzie said emphatically. “But no matter what happens, God cares about us. And that’s what matters most of all.”

  Lizzie shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess I got wetter than I realized. I think I’ll go change my clothes.”

  And she left her aunt standing in the hall with a satisfied smile on her face.

  CHAPTER 15

  Victory!

  Spring came sweetly in 1766. The rumblings of the Patriots and the retorts of the Loyalists did not interrupt nature’s rhythm. The winds warmed, the rains came, the trees budded, and the hills and meadows around Boston were lush and thick once again.

  Joshua and Lizzie sat next to each other on the seat in front of the cart on an afternoon in the middle of May. They did not talk. They had finished their rounds with the afternoon’s papers, and they were hungry and tired. Their last stop would be back at the print shop to pick up their father and go home for supper.

  Lizzie was thirteen now, almost fourteen, and Joshua had passed his sixteenth birthday. Brother and sister did not always agree with each other, but they understood each other well. Joshua respected his parents. He would never do something that he knew would hurt any of his relatives. Lizzie was certain of that. But his decisions were his own now. Somehow the stamp tax controversy had moved Joshua from boyhood to manhood.

  Lizzie had watched the gulf between her and her brother widen and wondered if she and Joshua would ever find their way back to each other.

  Lizzie no longer yearned for life to go back to the way it was before Parliament began imposing so many restrictions on the colonies. She felt better now than she had a year ago. She was still not sure that she agreed with Joshua’s choice of friends. In the last two years, she had witnessed people doing many wild things. But she knew Joshua was right about one thing: Change was coming, and no one would be able to stop it—not even the king of England himself.

  Merry trotted along steadily, just as she had for many years. Lizzie swayed with the rhythmic clip-clop, clip-clop. Merry was a good horse, a calm, gentle, reliable work partner. With sadness in her heart, Lizzie calculated the mare’s age. Even Merry would not be with them much longer. Her father had already remarked several times that they ought to be looking around for another work animal and let Merry live out her old age in peace.

  Joshua halted the cart. They were back at the shop. No doubt their father would be wiping down the counters one last time before locking up. The day’s work was done for all of them. They would soon relish some rest and nourishment in the family home.

  Lizzie pushed the door open and the bell tinkled.

  “Papa? Are you ready?”

  “I’ll just be a minute. Did you have any trouble today?” Duncan Murray had asked his daughter that question every day for months—ever since her encounter with Daniel Taylor during the route so many months ago.

  “No, Papa. Everything was fine.”

  The bell tinkled again and Lizzie turned, expecting to see Joshua impatient to go home. Instead it was her uncle Blake, with Joshua right behind him.

  “We did it!” shouted Joshua gleefully. He pushed past his uncle and grabbed Lizzie’s hands, pulling her off balance.

  “Did what?” Lizzie asked. She broke from Joshua and steadied herself against the counter.

  “What has happened?” Papa asked, tossing aside his rag.

  Blake slapped the back of a chair happily. “I’ve just come from the harbor. A boat came in from England today. The word is that King George has repealed the Stamp Act. He did it on March 18, and Parliament voted to approve it. But the letter only came today.”

  Joshua clucked his tongue. “I wish there were a faster way to exchange information between England and America.”

  “Are you sure?” Papa pressed.

  “Absolutely! I saw the letter myself.”

  “Isn’t this incredible?” said Joshua, nearly dancing around the room. Lizzie stepped out of his way. “We’ve done it, we’ve done it. The congress worked!”

  “Lizzie, quick!” Papa said. “We’ll do a special announcement and get it out on the streets tonight. Get the letter trays out.”

  Lizzie flew into action. Her father had just finished cleaning up the day’s work. Everything was neatly put away. A moment ago they were ready to go home for supper. But everything had changed in that moment.

  “What will the headline be, Papa?” she asked as she pulled out a tray of headline letters.

  “King Repeals Stamp Act!” Papa answered.

  “No,” said Joshua. “Americans Defeat King!”

  Papa laughed. “All right, Joshua, have it your way.”

  “What about supper?” Lizzie asked as she picked out the letters to spell Americans. “Mama is expecting us home any minute.”

  Papa turned to Uncle Blake and raised his eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry,” Uncle Blake said, grinning. “I’ll go by the house and tell her the news myself.”

  “Thank you, Blake. We may not be home for several more hours.”

  “Before I leave, I must tell you one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Along with the letter of repeal came a new act from Parliament.” Joshua groaned. “Have they learned nothing?” Uncle Blake shook his head. “Apparently not. This one is called the Declaratory Act.” “What does it say?”

  “It asserts Britain’s ownership and control over the colonies. I can promise you that Sam Adams and James Otis are not going to like it.”

  “The work of the Sons of Liberty is not over,” Joshua declared. “It’s just beginning.”

  “Can you get us a copy of the act?” Papa asked Uncle Blake.

  “I’m sure I can. After I see Constance, I’ll run back over to the harbor.”

  “We greatly appreciate your help, Blake.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And Uncle Blake was gone.

  Papa rubbed his hands together energetically. “Let’s get to work! Joshua, get the press ready. Use fresh ink. Lizzie, let’s decide what this announcement should say.”

  “Papa, you relax. Let us do this,” Joshua said. “We know what to do.”

  Lizzie watched the exchange between her father and her brother. Joshua was seriou
s. He wanted the responsibility of getting out this special edition. Papa studied his son’s expression for a moment, then nodded.

  “All right. You write up the story and let me check it. Then I’ll help Lizzie with the typesetting, and you can print it.” “Papa, thank you! You can trust me.”

  “I can see everything is in good hands,” Papa said. “I believe I’ll use this opportunity to catch up on some accounts in the back room.”

  When their father was gone, Joshua grinned at Lizzie. “I’m glad you got what you wanted,” she said. “It’s not just what I wanted,” he corrected. “It’s what is best for the colonies—for America.”

  “The way you say that, it sounds as if you think of the colonies as a separate country.”

  Joshua nodded. “There are some who think that way. But the Declaratory Act means that there is still a lot of work ahead of us if we are to make Parliament see things from our point of view.” He picked up a quill and dipped it in ink. “Enough chatter. I must write my story.”

  Lizzie smiled at his seriousness as he began to scratch on the paper. He was not imitating anyone. This was Joshua being himself, working hard on something he believed in.

  Joshua was probably right. Change was coming. The colonies and Britain would have to establish a new relationship. The change would affect even ordinary people on both sides of the Atlantic.

  Lizzie found the last letter of her headline: AMERICANS DEFEAT KING! As she read the words, spelled out in front of her on the counter, she felt their impact. The Loyalists in Boston would not like this headline. But Lizzie did. It put words on the fire she had seen glowing in her brother’s eyes.

  Lizzie Murray was ready to face the change. And she and Joshua would find their bond once again.

  AMERICAN DREAM

  BONUS EDUCATIONAL MATERIAL

  SARAH’S NEW WORLD:

  THE MAYFLOWER ADVENTURE

  VOCABULARY WORDS

  bushel—a unit of measure for grain, fruit, and other food items “Well, we have most of the dried goods taken care of. There are thirty-two bushels of meal and eight bushels each of dried peas and oatmeal for the four of us.”