Daniel, on the other hand, who had never been as thoroughly distrustful of women as his younger brothers, gave Lissie Peters minimal encouragement. It occurred to Caroline more than once that he might be developing a slight tendre for herself, but she refused to entertain the notion seriously. If she did, it might disturb the peace of mind that she had finally achieved, and she refused to let that happen. It was too wonderful to be at ease in her own skin again.
John and Davey, while still slightly wary of her, seemed to take her presence in their household for granted. Certainly they enjoyed having washed, pressed, and mended clothes to wear to school, meals prepared, and a well-kept house and clean linens for their beds. Caroline realized that it made them feel more like the other children who had loving mothers in their homes, and she was glad that she was able to give them that, even if they were not yet ready to accept more tangible gestures of affection from her. But that, she assured herself, would come in the fullness of time, or so she hoped.
On a particularly warm afternoon in early August, when she was engaged in pegging items of the wash out on the grass to bleach in the sun, she was surprised to discover Davey, who along with his schoolmates was enjoying a holiday from studies, huddled behind a large lilac bush that graced the west corner of the yard. His arms were wrapped tight about Millicent—the cat had grown surprisingly tolerant of Davey’s small-boy roughness, and the child exhibited an amazing degree of fondness for the cat when there were, as he thought, no eyes to see—and his face was buried in her fur. For a moment Caroline hesitated, unsure whether or not she should question him. Though he tolerated her, she was not Davey’s favorite member of the household, and she knew it. But such a posture from the normally cocksure little boy must mean that something was amiss with him. Leaving the rest of the wash unpegged, Caroline approached and then crouched in front of him.
“Davey?”
His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t lift his face. “Go ’way!”
“Are you ill?”
No response.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
No response.
“Shall I fetch your pa?”
At that he lifted his head to glare at her. “No!”
Tears stained his cheeks, and cat hairs clung to the wet tracks, but what really caught her eye was his bottom lip. It was puffy and swollen, with a little trickle of dried blood decorating the left corner.
“What happened?” Caroline asked, thinking that he must have been stung, or fallen, or injured himself in any of the dozens of ways particular to small boys.
“Nothin’.” He glanced down at Millicent, and made a ferocious face. “Stupid ol’ cat!”
He thrust her away from him more roughly than Caroline might have liked, but Millicent did not seem offended. With a glance at Caroline as if to enjoin her sympathy for the small human, she returned to the boy, butting his arm with her head, purring loudly.
“Go ‘way!” He pushed at her, glowering at Caroline all the while so that she understood that his rejection was aimed at her and not the cat at all. This time Millicent walked away, waving her tail proudly in the air as if to make it clear that it was her choice to do so.
“Davey, if you won’t tell me what happened I don’t have any choice but to fetch your pa.” She spoke gently.
“I got in a fight.” It was a furiously resentful mutter.
“A fight! Why?”
“They was sayin’ bad things about my ma. The boys in town, that is.”
“What kind of bad things?”
He hesitated, and the damaged lip quivered tellingly. But the need to confide in someone was too strong to resist.
“They said she was a witch.”
“A witch!” Caroline caught her breath. A swift survey of Davey’s face told her how much he needed her to deny what had been said, and indeed she had no hesitation in doing so.
“What nonsense!” she continued lightly.
He hesitated, and it was clear that he wanted to believe. But he was unable to take comfort from her so easily. “How would you know?” The question was rude.
“I know,” Caroline said with conviction. Despite what Mary had told her, she knew that, whatever the truth of the matter was, it was important to convince Davey that his mother was innocent. “Your mother was my sister, and I knew her when I was just a little girl. She used to sing to me, oh, lovely songs.”
“Did she?” It was obvious that Davey was fascinated. “Like what?”
Caroline nodded, and then hummed a lilting melody. Whether or not Elizabeth had ever actually sung that particular song to her she didn’t know, but then it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Davey have a vision of his mother that he could feel proud of.
“What else did she do?” Davey’s eyes were bright as he forgot his resentment of her in his excitement.
“She laughed a lot, and told wonderful stories, and always looked beautiful I was so proud to be seen with her. You would have been too.”
But this was clearly the wrong thing to say. His eyes darkened, and he scowled at her. “I would not have. She was ugly, and mean, and she hated me and I hated her! Just like I hate you!”
Before Caroline could answer, he jumped to his feet and ran away. She stood up more slowly, knowing better than to go after him. Despite his rejection in the end, she could only hope that her words had helped him come to terms with his mother in some small way.
Once Matt’s leg had healed enough to permit him to get out and about, he had insisted that she accompany the rest of the family to Meeting, and Caroline reluctantly did. After her talk with Davey she made it a point to stop at Elizabeth’s grave. As she stood there, reading the simple inscription—ELIZABETH, WIFE OF EPHRAIM MATHIESON, DIED MAY 1682 AGED 33 YEARS—she felt a sense of release as she finally let go of the image she had cherished of her sister over all the intervening years. The woman in the grave, though bound to her by blood, was a stranger and had always been. The remaining Mathiesons had become more her family than Elizabeth had ever been.
Except for its length—there were two four-hour sessions, one in the morning and one in the afternoon with a short break for the midday meal on every single Sabbath, world without end—Meeting had not been as unbearable an ordeal as Caroline had feared it might be. The Reverend Master Miller had directed a few fulminating looks in her direction and preached more than one pointed sermon on the general subject of daughters of Babylon, thieves, and liars, but he had not denounced her from the pulpit. Quite possibly, she considered, Matt’s scowling presence in the hard pew beside her deterred him. As far as the rest of the congregation were concerned, some of the ladies, swayed, no doubt, by the continued disapprobation of the dominie and the apothecary, who were both very important men in the town, kept their distance. But there was no general outcry of “witch,” as Caroline had half feared after Davey’s unfortunate experience, and nearly as many women were surprisingly cordial, which Caroline had little trouble laying at the door of the handsome Mathieson men. The ladies who would be her friends were, almost to a woman, young and single, and she guessed that they thought her the best avenue to the Mathieson of their choice. In the past Matt had discouraged female callers, and anyway it hadn’t been quite right for an unwed female to call on a household of bachelor men, but now that there was a woman in the family calls became unexceptional. If Caroline had wished, she could have entertained visitors every day of the week, but she let it be known that she was busy and thus had to contend only with men-hungry women on an occasional basis. Mary was a different story, and Caroline grew genuinely fond of James’s wife. And little Hope was an angel. Caroline greatly enjoyed their company, and at least once a week she would visit their house in town or they would come out to while away an hour or so with her.
During the busy summer there had been a house-raising and a wedding, but Meeting was the main form of social intercourse. Now that it was September, however, and the corn was in, there was to be a husking bee at the Smiths’. To her
surprise, Caroline found herself looking forward to the simple entertainment, which the entire family was to attend. After supper she made sure the boys were brushed and scrubbed, then went to don a fresh dress herself. The gown she chose was of black grosgrain with a fitted bodice and a wide collar of white lace. As she was a handy needlewoman, the dress was better made than the average gown worn by the community women, and she had allowed herself the small luxury of trimming her sleeves with double rows of black velvet ribbon edged by flourishes of black silk embroidery. The white muslin sleeves of her chemise were allowed to fall into view below the sleeves of her gown, and she wore a semisheer white muslin apron tied about her waist with a huge, crisp bow at her back. The finer materials were salvaged from the dresses she had worn in England, but she had reworked them so cleverly that no one would suspect they were other than new.
Her hair she dressed in a loose knot at the crown of her head. A few tendrils (hurriedly wound around a curling iron in the privacy of her chamber, which artifice she would stoutly deny if asked so as not to be accused of the dreadful sin of vanity) trailed becomingly over her forehead and around her cheeks and nape. Looking into the tiny mirror as she twisted the last of these into place, Caroline had to admit that she was pleased with as much of her image as she could see.
A knock at her door made her thrust the iron guiltily back into the trunk from which she had unearthed it. Though such devices were used as a matter of course by English females, here in this Puritan land such artificial means of enhancing one’s appearance were severely frowned on. Caroline considered the stricture ridiculous and entirely in keeping with the stiff-rumped provincialism of the colony, but she had no intention of arguing the matter. Instead she would use her beauty aid with discretion and enjoy her own curls whereas others could, if they wished, feel righteous about their horsetail-straight hair.
“If you’re ready, ’tis time we were off.” Matt’s deep voice on the other side of the door made her smile.
“I’m ready,” she answered, and with another shamefully vain peek at her reflection she went out to join them.
Matt’s admiring look was all she needed to justify what was, if indeed it was one at all, only a very small sin.
In honor of the occasion they were to take the buck-board that was generally used for trips to market. As distance went, it was farther to ride than walk—the footpath they commonly followed to the road was too narrow to permit passage of the cart, which necessitated a detour of some half a mile—but the time involved was about the same and they could be sure of arriving at their destination without the mishaps that normally accrued to small boys and their companions. Everyone was already piling into the conveyance as Caroline stepped from the house, the last one to do so, but she was touched to discover that the seat beside the driver—Matt—had been reserved for her, the lone female in the group. They were learning, after all. Wedged against Matt’s hard arm, with Daniel planted solidly on her other side, Caroline barely felt the lurching as they headed over the pitted track toward town.
It was growing dark as they neared their destination. Even as Matt pulled up the horse and Daniel helped her down, excited chatter mixed with laughter reached her ears. Behind her, the remaining Mathiesons scrambled to the ground, already heading toward where light spilled through the open door of the Smiths’ barn. Inside, awash in the golden glow cast by many lanterns suspended from thick oak beams, a large number of people were already assembled. Two huge piles of cut corn stood in the center of the gathering, and captains were busy choosing their teams. The object of the evening, as Matt had told her beforehand, was to see which team could shuck their pile of corn first. There were tables loaded with maple candy and spice cakes, apple and bayberry pies, and various kinds of meats and nuts. Cider was available in large vats, and a mug was thrust toward each of them, even the children, as their arrival was greeted with shouts on all sides. Friends clamored for their services, and Caroline found herself on one side with Thomas, Robert, and Davey. Matt, Daniel, and John were on the other side—with Patience Smith and Hannah Forrester.
The sweet scent of hay mingled with the more pungent aroma of the cows and horses that had been removed from their customary lodgings for the night’s festivities. Caroline shared a hay-bale seat with Mary, who along with James was also on her team. As she somewhat inexpertly pulled the green leaves and silken tassels from her share of the corn, she listened to the jokes and laughter going on around her with scarcely more than half an ear. Most of her attention was focused on Matt, who was sharing a bale and a chuckle with Hannah Forrester.
Though she was not conscious of it, Caroline’s hands slowed and her fingers tearing away the tender silk became more vicious. Matt was smiling at something Hannah was saying to him, his blue eyes alight with amusement and his mouth quirked in a charming smile. The lantern light glinted blue off the black waves of his hair and cast a warm glow over features that were far too handsome even in the starkest daylight. He was in his shirt-sleeves as were most of the men in the face of so much thirsty-making work. The fine white Holland linen that she had fashioned, washed, and pressed with such care showed off the thick muscles of his shoulders and arms and the breadth of his chest to such advantage that Caroline feared Goody Forrester might actually drool from looking at them. His broken leg had healed; except for a slight scar where the bone had protruded, it was as good as new. But his other leg was thrust out straight before him as she had learned that it hurt him to keep the knee bent. In the black breeches and gray stockings that he wore, it was plain to see that he sported a very powerful leg indeed. Hannah Forrester had clearly made note of that.
“Why, Caroline, you’ve gotten the way of this very well!” Mary’s soft voice jerked her attention back to where it should have been in the first place. The pile of shucked corn at her side had increased dramatically, she saw with some surprise and blushed as she realized the cause. But she managed to smile at Mary and rejoin with a light quip. Then she deliberately refrained from looking at Matt again, even when she heard Hannah Forrester’s tinkling laugh.
Patience sat with Robert, her pretty face softened into near beauty by a sweet smile. Caroline was pleased to see that Robert was talking with her quite companionably, instead of responding to her with monosyllabic grunts as he would have done even three months ago. Like Matt, and all the other Mathiesons as well, for that matter, Robert wore a shirt and breeches that she, Caroline, had fashioned, and she took a proprietary pleasure in how fine they all looked. Thomas was quite the ladies’ man as he divided his attention between Abigail Fulsom and Joy Hendrick, who perched on either side of him, while Daniel, who sat talking to James as they labored, was the object of longing looks from red-haired Lissie Peters. If the two of them were ever to wed, what a bunch of carrottops they were likely to produce, Caroline thought, amused. It was very possible that they would make a match of it, although Daniel seemed to have little idea of it yet. Lissie Peters had struck Caroline as a determined young miss, and Caroline’s personal opinion was that Daniel would find himself wedded and bedded within the year. In fact, it was quite likely that the whole crew of them would disperse to their own homes within the next couple of years, and Caroline entertained the thought with some pleasure. She’d grown passingly fond of Robert and Thomas, and truly fond of Daniel, but caring for four grown men and two growing boys was exhausting work. She’d be relieved to pass on a large part of the burden to a gaggle of young wives.
But the logical corollary to that was that Matt would rewed as well. Hannah Forrester seemed quite as determined as Lissie Peters in her pursuit, but the idea of relinquishing her responsibilities for Matt and the boys to Hannah—or, indeed, to any other woman—made Caroline sit bolt upright on the bale, her hands stilling on the ear she held. Why, they were her family! She would not share them! Her eyes shot Matt such a look that had he seen it he would have been sure he had done something that mortally offended her. But he had joined in James’s and Daniel’s conversation, whi
le Hannah had turned to talk to the woman to her left, and so he did not see the look. Of course, Matt had vowed never to remarry and had given Caroline no reason to doubt his resolution. There was no sense in borrowing trouble where none was likely to appear.
“Look at Hope, trying to climb up James’s leg!” Mary said, laughing, and Caroline obediently looked. Hope was more than a year old now, toddling and babbling and as charming a baby as ever there was. Caroline watched, smiling, as James scooped up his black-haired little daughter and sat her on his arm while continuing his conversation with his brothers. Like Matt, James was an exemplary parent. Judging by their ease with their nephews and niece, Caroline thought it likely that Daniel, Robert, and Thomas would all become good fathers as well.
“Lookee there!” A great shout went up. Caroline looked for its cause to find that Daniel, red stealing up his cheeks, was staring down at a half-shucked ear that he held in his hands with an air of befuddlement. The kernels were deep orange rather than the customary pale yellow, and the sight provoked his brothers in particular to great gusts of laughter.
“What’s happening?” Caroline whispered to Mary, all at sea.
“ ’Tis a red ear! It means that Daniel gets to claim a forfeit from the girl of his choice.”
“A forfeit?”
“A kiss, you ninny!” Mary said, laughing, and then they all watched as Daniel raised his eyes from the ear to look slowly around the loose circle of guests.
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“Go on! Go on!” Daniel’s face was almost as red as his hair as he got to his feet in response to the urgings of his fellow males. Caroline had to smile at how embarrassed he seemed, and watched with some interest as he stepped into the center of the circle. Whom would he choose? Her gaze moved to Lissie Peters, who had her eyes cast modestly down. Then, to her consternation, she realized that Daniel was coming straight toward her.
This Side of Heaven Page 21