“Eat,” she said. “You should be hungry.”
Famished, I dove into the food like a starving man, all the while my parents stood watching.
When I had wiped up the last of the eggs with the toast, my mother took my plate away.
“You will no longer work outside this house, Daughter,” my father announced. “I will go to your employer today and advise her. You will not leave this house except to go to church, and you will always be accompanied by your mother or one of your brothers. Do you understand me?”
I nodded.
“Failure to follow these instructions will cost you dearly. I will not be humiliated in front of the elders. You will, in all facets of life, be an obedient child. And, you will atone for your sins. Do I make myself clear?”
Again, I nodded.
“Good. Now go to the barn and begin your chores. When you have finished, return to your room, get on your knees, and pray for God’s forgiveness.”
“Yes, Father,” I replied, bowing my head as I quickly ran out the back door and headed to the barn.
After completing my chores, I knelt on the hard, wooden floor, supposedly praying. However, as hard as I tried to concentrate on my sins, my mind kept returning to Micah and, also, to Imelda, and how my punishment could be affecting them. I prayed, instead of for forgiveness, that Micah would be safe and that Imelda would find a way to contact me.
But that was not to happen. Days passed and there was no word from her. I was kept closely guarded and could find no way, on my part, to seek her out.
A week after my beating, I was surprised when my father brought a man home for dinner. His name was Josiah Abbott and he farmed land not far from town. He was a recent widower, his wife having died in childbirth, leaving him with an infant son to care for. The child was now a little over a year old and desperately in need of mothering. Mr. Abbott was, I guessed, in his early thirties – a dour-looking man, with thinning brown hair.
My father and he talked in the living room, whilst my mother and I prepared the evening meal.
“Supper’s served,” my mother announced.
“Good. I’m hungry,” said my father as he escorted Mr. Abbott into the dining room.
“Sit here, Josiah,” he said, indicating the chair next to mine. “This is Maude, our eldest.”
Mr. Abbott smiled shyly. “A pleasure, Miss Maude.”
“And, to you,” I replied, as pleasantly as I could.
Dinner progressed amiably and, when the last plate was cleared, my father and Mr. Abbott retired to the porch to smoke.
“Maude, bring me my pipe and some tobacco,” my father instructed.
I did as he bade and, as I was about to return to the house, Mr. Abbott stopped me, his hand on my arm.
“I was wondering, Miss Maude, if you would do me the pleasure of accompanying me to church this Sunday. That is, if your father will grant permission.”
He turned to look at my father, who smiled broadly and nodded. “Maude would be most happy to accompany you on Sunday, Josiah.”
Not knowing what to do, I smiled, curtsied, and ran into the house to find my mother, who was tidying up the kitchen.
“Mr. Abbott has asked me to go to church with him,” I said. “Father says I must.”
My mother nodded. “That is good. Mr. Abbott is a pious man of means and will make a fine husband for you. In return, you will be a good mother to his son. Count your blessings, child. God has smiled down on you despite your sinful nature.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. They were marrying me off and Mr. Abbott was the perfect catch – a widower in need of a woman to care for his infant son. I would have no say in the matter – my dalliance with a heretic had so soiled me that I should now think myself lucky that any man would have me. This offended me so, I started to speak, but a stern look from my mother stopped me.
“Go to your room and thank God for his forgiveness.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I went to my room, but I did not bow down and thank God. I was being sold like chattel to the first man who came along. I thought about Mr. Abbott and shuddered. That man would lay claim to my body and I would have to bear him children.
Tears streaked my face. Micah was my husband, sure and true. All we lacked was sanctification by the church and that we would never get. I cursed myself now for not listening to him. We should have run – run far away from this place and found a new land to make our own. I needed to talk to Imelda. She could contact Micah and let him know what had happened. Then, perhaps, we could find a way out of this.
I wiped by face dry and nodded. My brothers were lax when it came to watching me and, perhaps, on the morrow, I could sneak away unnoticed and go to Imelda’s.
Decided, I undressed and slipped under the covers.
Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow.
Imelda
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I pleaded with my mother that I needed to get out of the house and that I would be more than willing to stay in the company of my brothers who, after chores, were going kite flying. After some moments’ reflection, she nodded, but made me promise that I would stay in their sight as long as we were out.
I readily agreed even though I knew it was a lie. I was determined to find out what, if anything, had happened to Micah and was willing to face another beating or even the stocks to get an answer.
The day started pleasantly enough, my brothers ever challenging each other over whose kite could flyer higher and faster. I stayed close for about an hour then begged the elder of the two to let me fly his kite.
Reluctantly, he agreed and I took the contraption and began to run with it. Unbeknownst to my brothers, I was what some would call an “expert” in kite flying; however, for my purpose on this day, I made myself look like a novice. The kite finally left the ground and, once it was flying high, I fumbled with the rope, causing it to take a sudden dive into the top of a nearby tree.
“You clumsy girl!” screamed my brother. “Look what you’ve done! It’s all tangled and I’ll have to climb the tree to get it down.”
Chastened, I sat on the ground and pretended to cry.
“Girls!” my other brother spat. “Come, brother, let’s go get your kite. Sissy Maude can sit here and sniffle.”
With that remark, they both ran off. As soon as they were out of sight, I leaped to my feet and ran in the opposite direction. Imelda’s shop was only a half mile away and I knew time was of the essence.
It didn’t take me long to get there and, out of breath, I stood before the door, praying it wouldn’t be locked.
It wasn’t.
I slipped inside. Imelda was sitting at the bench and turned when she heard the little bells attached to the door chime merrily.
“Maude!” she exclaimed. “Get inside quickly. Pull the shade and lock the door.”
I did as she instructed then ran to her side. She put her arms around me, hugging me close.
“Little dove,” she said. “Did they punish you cruelly?”
I nodded. “Yes, my father beat me, but worse, they plan on marrying me off as soon as possible, and I fear I’ll have no choice but to obey unless I can get to Micah. Tell me. Is he all right? Or, have they hurt him?”
I was trembling as I blurted out my fears for my lover. Imelda guided me to a seat on the bench, then sat beside me taking my hands in hers.
“Your Micah is fine, little dove, but he is gone. He is no longer in the Colony.”
“Gone? Where? I would flee to him.”
She shook her head, then got up and walked to the kitchen. I waited impatiently while she put on a kettle to make tea. As the water heated, she returned and, once again, sat at my side.
“His father got wind of what had happened and, fearing reprisals from your family and your church, closed his bakery and fled. Your Micah did not want to go, but said he would stay and accept any punishment and that, when it was done, he would have you for wife. But his mother objected and pleaded with him, saying they would put
him under the lash or worse and that your church would see to it that there would be no marriage, not now or ever.”
“Good. I’m glad he left. It would have killed me to see him tortured. But where did they go? I would run to him if I knew.”
Imelda again shook her head and rose to silence the kettle, which was now whistling loudly. She came back a moment later with two cups of tea, one of which she set down in front of me.
“Drink,” she said. “I cannot tell you where Micah is because I do not know. All I know is they went south, to New York. Where in New York is a mystery to me. No, you cannot run to him – a girl of eighteen, all alone – no, it would be too dangerous and foolhardy.”
“But what can I do? I will be forced into a marriage I don’t want.”
Imelda was quiet for a moment, sipping her tea. Finally, she spoke.
“Tell me of the man your family has put forward for you.”
Taking a deep breath, I told her what I knew of Mr. Abbott.
“Josiah Abbott,” she said angrily, then turned and spat on the ground. “His wife need not have died, you know. She came to me fearing her pregnancy. She was older than him by quite a few years and knew the birth would be hard and might kill her. I gave her some powders that would help bring the baby on fast – fast enough that she might survive the labor. But Mr. Josiah Abbott found them and tossed them in the fireplace, saying that they were the work of the devil and that all she would need was faith in God to survive. Well, where was God the night she died? He certainly wasn’t in the birthing bed with Mrs. Abbott.”
“What happened?”
“The labor was long and hard and the poor woman ran out of strength and blood. By the time the babe was delivered, she was long dead. It was God’s will, they said. But it was Mr. Josiah Abbott who was to blame, not God.”
“And, this is the man I am to marry?”
I said these words sadly, knowing I had little choice.
Imelda stood and paced the room, then turned back to me. “Should that occur and should you need help, little dove, come to me. I have many tricks up my sleeve that can help you deal with the likes of Mr. Josiah Abbott. And, I will put the word out to see if I can find your Micah.”
She came back to the bench then and put her arms around me. “Fear not, sweet Maude, for true love has a way of finding a path through darkness. If your Micah truly loves you, he will move heaven and earth to be with you again. But, for now, you must do as your parents bid. If not, I fear they may go to the elders and you will find yourself reviled in church and flogged or worse - put in the stocks. No, do not let that happen. Be a dutiful daughter even if it means marriage to a man such as Josiah Abbott.”
I nodded, sadly, and thanked her.
“No thanks are needed, little dove. And, as long as you are being kept close, do not seek me out again. I will find a way to come to you. Now run. You have been away too long as it is and I fear you will be found out and punished.”
Again, I nodded and, impulsively, hugged her tight. “I am forever in your debt, kind mistress.”
She smiled, then pushed me away. “Fly home, little bird. I will be in touch.”
I hesitated but a moment, then ran for the door, but her voice called me back.
“Here,” she said, handing me a small pouch. “For your brothers – to ensure their silence.”
I looked into the bag and grinned when I saw what it held – several pieces of rock candy, a sweet forbidden in our house.
“That should do it,” I said and, nodding once more to her, tucked the pouch in my apron and hurried out the door.
As I ran back to the field, hoping to find my brothers still there, I thought about Imelda.
A strange woman. In all the years I’d known her, I’d never seen her with a man – no husband, no lover, no close friend. Only that one old man – Ian Morrison – and he, I could tell, she despised. And as for children, it seemed there were none.
But, why? Imelda was more than just passing attractive – she, with her flaming red hair and flashing dark eyes, could bewitch any man she wanted. But she remained alone … alone, that is, except for me. And, why would she risk everything for me? When we worked together, most times she either ignored or chastised me – finding fault with every facet of my work. So, why now would she risk everything to help? Was there to be some payment come due later … a payment I would be loath to supply?
I pushed these dark thoughts aside. All she had ever given me was kindness and, if she could find my Micah, I would be gladly in her debt, no matter what the cost.
When I reached the field, I breathed a sigh of relief. My brothers were still there flying their kites. Timothy, the elder of the two, turned when he heard me approach.
“Well, look who’s back,” he said. “You are in trouble for sure.”
I smiled at him, reached out, and ruffled his hair, a gesture he was sure he was too old for now. “I only went to get you and Peter a surprise.”
“A surprise?” asked Timothy, his eyes lighting up in anticipation.
“Yes, a surprise,” I echoed, pulling the small pouch from my pocket. “But you and Peter must promise that you will say nothing to Father or Mother about my absence today. You must swear it on your lives.”
A look of uncertainty passed over Tim’s face and, for a moment, he seemed to waver. But I opened the pouch and gave him a quick look inside and all doubt disappeared.
“Rock candy!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get it?”
“That’s for me to know. All you need to know is that it will be yours – yours and Peter’s – if you swear.
At that moment, young Peter joined us and, when he saw the sweets, began bouncing up and down, repeating the words “I swear, I swear” over and over.
“Settle down, Peter,” I said. “I’m waiting for Tim.”
Timothy raised his eyes to mine, then looked back at the pouch. “I swear,” he said, softly. “On my life, I swear.”
“Good, now here,” I said, divvying up the candy equally between the boys. “Half for you and half for Peter. You can eat it on the way home. It’s getting late and Mother will want help with dinner.”
A Wedding
FOR THE NEXT few weeks, Mr. Josiah Abbott was a frequent visitor at our house. He came by every Sunday, walked with me to church, then stayed for the evening meal.
I found him to be a dour man, quiet and seemingly lacking anything remotely resembling a sense of humor. Our conversations all centered around scripture and the ups and downs of farming in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
I heard nothing from Imelda during this time and I worried that perhaps she had forgotten me. I thought often about fleeing and trying to find my Micah, but knew this was but a dream. I was stuck and could see no reasonable way out.
One Sunday after dinner, about two months after he had first come by, Mr. Abbott took my father aside and asked for my hand. My father readily agreed and Mr. Abbott then approached me with the same question. I wanted to say “no,” but I knew what this meant to my parents and my family’s good name. So, without further ado, I became engaged. The banns were announced the following week and the wedding planned for one month hence. It would be performed in the home of the local magistrate, not the church. Marriage for my people was not a religious event, but, rather, a simple civil ceremony. There were no holy vows recited or wedding rings – just one question posed to both the bride and the groom and, when answered in the affirmative, the ceremony was over. After, there would be a modest wedding dinner at the home of my parents with wedding cakes and a cup of sack posset, a custard-like drink.
During the period between the engagement and the wedding, I longed to escape and find Imelda. But I was closely watched and there was little chance of this. I hoped she would come to me, but there continued to be no word from her.
So, I prepared for my wedding, sure in my mind that Micah was lost to me forever. My days of happiness and love were over, and now all I had left was to try to make the bes
t of things with Mr. Abbott.
We were married on a cool November afternoon and, after dining with my parents and other relatives, I left with Josiah to travel to his home, some five miles away from town.
It was dark when we arrived at the farm. He helped me from the buggy, then carried my bags inside. I followed wondering what would happen next and what, if anything, he would expect of me. His neighbor, a spinster who had stayed at the farm to care for young Samuel, greeted us, kissing me lightly on both cheeks.
“I’ll take my leave of you now,” she said. “The babe is sleeping. Happy marriage to you both.”
Josiah saw her out and, when he returned, smiled at me.
“Sit, Wife,” he said. “I’ll make us some tea.”
“No, Husband,” I replied, taking the kettle from his hand. “That is my duty. You sit.”
He nodded and did as I bade. I stirred the coals and added another log or two to the hearth, filled the kettle, then hung it from the crane over the fire. I then turned and smiled at him.
“Perhaps you would prefer a draught of ale. It has been a long day.”
Josiah nodded and I rummaged around the kitchen until I found a tankard and poured him a glass. As I handed it to him, a loud wail erupted from the back of the house, surprising me.
Josiah laughed. “That’s young Samuel, your stepson. He’s probably hungry and may need a change.”
“I’ll go see to him,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron as I left the room.
I found the child in the spare bedroom, his face red and expression angry. Picking him up, I realized he did indeed need changing and, quickly searching the room, found a pile of fresh diapers in the hamper. I made short work of cleaning him up and carried him in my arms back to the kitchen.
Josiah had sliced some apples and cheese and laid them out on the table.
“Sit, Wife,” he said. “Have something to eat.”
The Turning Page 6