The Heart's Stronghold

by Amanda Barratt

  She left the bedchamber and found President Smith’s front room empty. Since his arrival back at the fort, he had held many meetings in his home. Anne had paid little attention to the men coming and going. She was just thankful for the use of the president’s bedchamber for John’s comfort.

  Stepping outside, she inhaled a deep breath and marveled at the activity in the fort. Construction on the palisade addition had resumed, as had the production of shingles. From where she stood, she could see at least a dozen men hauling the shingles to the waiting Mary Margaret. No doubt Captain Newport was anxious to be on his way.

  The sudden realization hit Anne, and she leaned against the doorframe of the president’s quarters. What if the captain planned to leave before John became well again? How could they marry if John was still unconscious? Worse, how could she leave him without knowing whether he’d survive?

  A dark figure stepped into Anne’s line of sight and slowly moved toward her.

  Master Forest.

  Anne swallowed the anxiety that rose in her throat at the sight of him.

  He moved slowly, as if in pain, and stopped in front of her. “Is Goodman Layton still unconscious?” he asked.

  “Aye.” She lowered her eyes, not wanting to show him her fear.

  “Is this more of your devilry?” he asked.

  “No, sir.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and her newfound confidence resurfaced. She lifted her gaze. “I love him.”

  Master Forest stared at her, anger in his glare. “I have seen you on your knees in the chapel, chanting incantations on several occasions. The doctor claims he did not get sick until he was in your care.”

  Panic squeezed Anne’s chest as she dropped her gaze again. She’d been praying to God, asking Him to return John to her—but no matter what she would say, Master Forest would believe what he wanted.

  She pushed past him, unable to stand in his presence any longer.

  “If he dies,” Master Forest called out to her, “I’ll tell everyone what you are.”

  Anne walked across the fort yard, wiping at the tears that had begun to fall. Men stopped in their paths to watch her, though none approached. She didn’t try to hide her tears and prayed they would keep the men away. She didn’t want to be bothered—didn’t want the attention. She simply wanted to be left alone and return to John’s side.

  She quickly filled the water pail and then walked back to the president’s quarters.

  When she stepped into the front room, she was surprised to find that President Smith and Captain Newport had returned. Their faces were grim as they both looked up at her arrival.

  “Anne,” Captain Newport said, “we’d like a word with you.”

  A lump grew in her throat as she set down the pail of water. What did they have to say to her? Had John died? Had Master Forest made his accusations?

  “Would you take a seat?” President Smith asked from behind his desk.

  Captain Newport held out a chair for Anne, and she gladly took it, afraid her legs would hold her no longer.

  The captain took the seat next to her, though he sat on the edge and faced her.

  Anne didn’t want to look at either man, but she couldn’t stop herself. She looked from one to the next, feeling as if she might leap out of her skin.

  “We’ve made an important decision,” President Smith said, “and it concerns you.”

  “After our visit to Chief Powhatan, we took several weeks to explore the area west of the James River, seeking a route to the Pacific Ocean,” Captain Newport said. “And it delayed our return to James Fort, which has delayed my departure to England.”

  “It’s getting far too late in the season for a sea voyage,” the president continued, “but it is imperative that Captain Newport return with our cargo and with news from the colony.”

  The captain took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to set sail at first light tomorrow morning.”

  Anne stared at him, dread sinking to the bottom of her stomach.

  “Goodman Cole is a friend of John’s,” President Smith told Anne. “He shared that you and John had plans to marry as soon as we returned, and that John wished for you to travel back to England on the Mary Margaret and await him there.”

  “Aye.” Anne nodded as she played with a loose thread on her apron.

  Captain Newport watched Anne, his gentle countenance unhurried. “Do you still wish to return with me tomorrow?”

  Just beyond the closed door, John lay unconscious. If he was awake, what would he have Anne do? Would he be angry to learn she left before they could be married? Would he be angry if she stayed and broke her promise to him?

  And then there was the threat of Master Forest. What if she stayed, only to have him make his accusations? Would the others hang her, as they had her mother? Even if he hinted at her being a witch, there was no telling how the rumor might grow and twist until it consumed the whole fort.

  What would John do if that happened?

  “How will I know if John survives?” Anne asked.

  “When I return in the spring,” Captain Newport promised, “I will check on John and then personally bring a report to you in England.”

  “It could take a year before I’ll know his fate.” Anne fought back the tears at the idea of not knowing what would become of John for that long. Even if he survived this, something else might go wrong. If Captain Newport was lost at sea, then who would provide Anne with information? And what about her marriage? If she was not married to John when she left here, she’d be at the mercy of society upon her return to England. She’d have no support and no one to ask for help.

  Yet she’d made a promise to John, and the thought of breaking that promise filled her with such dread, she couldn’t lift her head to meet the direct gazes of the men before her. John wanted her back in England—of that, she was most certain. Shouldn’t she honor his request? He’d be angry if she was forced to remain for the winter.

  “You do not need to make your decision now,” President Smith informed her. “But we will need to know some time this evening.”

  Anne swallowed her fear and misgivings and finally lifted her chin to meet the president’s gaze. “There is no need to wait. I’ve made my decision.”

  She loved John and could not dishonor him by going against his wishes. Somehow, someway, God would protect her, come what may.

  “I will depart on the Mary Margaret in the morning.”

  Captain Newport nodded. “As you wish.”

  It was not what she wished, but it was what she knew she must do—to honor John.

  Chapter 9

  John lifted his eyelids and lay for a moment in the warmth of the sunshine pouring through the open window. At first all seemed calm and peaceful as he inhaled a lungful of fresh air—but then his chest tightened, and he coughed so deeply his lungs burned and his muscles tensed. Every fiber of his being ached with pain, and as he gained complete consciousness, he realized with sudden clarity that he had no idea where he was or why he was in such distress.

  “Anne?” he called into the unfamiliar room.

  The boy, Daniel, appeared at John’s side, a smile on his thin face. “You’re alive.”

  The pain made it clear that he was very much alive, but what happened? And where was he? “Water,” he said through dry, parched lips.

  Daniel took a cup and held it to John’s lips as he braced the back of John’s head. The simple pressure felt like a knife stabbing into his skull.

  “Down,” John said to the boy, needing his head to rest on the bed again. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in President Smith’s quarters.” Daniel set the cup on a nearby table. “You’ve been here for a week now.”

  “A week?” Had he become ill with the disease that had killed so many others? But why did he feel as if he’d been beaten as well? “What happened?”

  “Pocahontas brought you into the fort. She found you about a mile west of the cedar grove.” Daniel took up another cup, this one steami
ng.

  A mile west of the cedar grove? The Spaniards! Details began to return in bits and pieces.

  “President Smith had you placed in his room.”

  John frowned. “President Smith?”

  “Aye. He and Captain Newport returned the same day you were found.”

  A week ago. Did that mean?

  John’s heart pounded hard and sweat broke out on his brow. “Did Captain Newport return to England?”

  “Aye. Four days ago now.”

  John tried to sit up, but he was too weak and in too much pain. “Four days ago?” He fell back against the mattress, breathing heavily, hating his weakness. “Did anyone return with him?”

  “Aye.” Daniel brought the steaming cup to John’s lips. “Would you like some broth?”

  “Who went back?” John asked, pushing aside the broth.

  “Master Forest,” Daniel said, setting the broth down again. “He hated being here without his wife.”

  “And Anne?” John’s heart thudded in his chest. Had Anne left before he could make her his bride? How could he provide for her if she was not married to him? She must be miserable now, not knowing whether he had lived or died.

  “She was relieved to see Master Forest board the ship.”

  “No.” John tried again to sit up, and this time Daniel helped him. His head pounded and his throat was raw, but he wanted to be up, to face whatever lay ahead. Dread filled his heart as he finally asked what he wanted to know more than anything. “Did Anne return to England?”

  The bedchamber door creaked open, and Anne stepped into the room with an armful of wood. Her white cap was clean and crisp on her dark hair, and her burgundy gown fit her a bit loosely, but he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life.

  “Anne.”

  She looked up at the sound of his voice and promptly dropped the wood there in the doorway. “John.” She rushed to the side of his bed and took his face in her hands. She kissed his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his forehead, and then his mouth, laughing breathlessly the whole time. “You’re alive,” she finally said as she pulled back to look him over.

  Daniel had quietly slipped out of the room and closed the door, leaving John and Anne alone to revel in the moment.

  “I thought you left,” he said, just as breathlessly as her.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hands in hers. “I tried.” Tears gathered in her eyes, shame tinting the edges. “I know I made you a promise, but when I came in here to say goodbye to you, I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it.” She bowed her head and lifted his hand to her lips. “And then, when I learned Master Forest was returning, I knew I couldn’t go.”

  “What transpired between you?” John asked, needing to know why the man had hurt her. “Whatever it is, you can trust me.”

  She lowered her eyes. “He never trusted me because he didn’t trust my mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  Taking a deep breath, she finally met his gaze. “My mother was accused of being a witch in North Berwick—and hanged to death.” Tears filled her eyes. “But I never believed what they said about her.”

  “Shhh.” John tried to reassure her, his chest constricting with the pain she’d carried for so long. “I don’t either.” He’d always been appalled at witch hunts, knowing that far too many innocent people had died.

  Anne leaned down and pressed her forehead to John’s chest. “Please forgive me for not going, John.”

  John lifted his free hand and put it on her head, nudging her to look up at him. “How could I not forgive you?” He ran his thumb over her skin, loving the feel of her under his touch. “When I awoke and thought you had gone, I counted myself a fool for making you promise to leave.” He shook his head, mindful of the pain, suddenly recalling the day when he’d been attacked by the Spaniards. All he could think about was Anne and how much he’d miss her when he was gone. “I cannot imagine being away from you again.”

  “And I cannot imagine it either, my beloved.” She leaned forward and kissed his lips again. “When I thought you might die, I realized how precious this life is and how little time we have together. I don’t want to spend that time waiting for you in England.”

  He pulled her against his chest and took off her cap, allowing his hands to run freely through her hair. It was so silky and smooth, he could only marvel that he was so fortunate to have the pleasure.

  “I love you, John,” she said on a whisper. “I know there are dangers lurking in the shadows here in Virginia, but if it be God’s will, we’ll shine a light on all those shadows and chase away the darkness together. I do not know what the future will hold, but I do know that each day with you is a gift I will never take for granted.”

  He wished he was well enough to pull her into his arms and show her how much he loved her. Instead, he simply caressed her hair as it fell down her back. “I love you too, Anne.” He kissed the top of her head, thanking God He had spared his life, if for no other reason than to glory in this moment together. “I cannot promise a life without worry or strife, but I can promise to love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

  She lifted her head and smiled upon him with her beautiful brown eyes. “And that is more than enough for me, John Layton.”

  He smiled and kissed her again.

  “As soon as I’m able to stand on my own two feet, I intend to make you my bride.”

  Anne smiled, her eyes shining. “And will you marry me in the church you built?”

  “I will.”

  “And will you build me a home where we can grow old together?”

  “I’ll start the moment our honeymoon is over—and not a second sooner.”

  Her cheeks turned pink at the mention of their honeymoon.

  It was his turn to ask her a few questions. “And will you fill the home with children who will care for us in our old age?”

  She placed her hand upon his cheek, gently caressing it, making him sleepy again. “I will,” she whispered.

  “And will you tell me you love me every day, even when I’m so old, I can no longer hear you?”

  “Even when you’re old,” she promised.

  He closed his eyes, her healing touch filling him with renewed strength. “And will you kiss me when I awake, and when I go out, and when I come in, and when I lie down?”

  Anne laid her lips upon his in a sweet and gentle kiss. “I will.”

  John smiled, his eyes still closed, as he drifted off into a restful sleep.

  Anne stood in President Smith’s bedchamber alone, two months after she’d arrived in Virginia. Master Forest had left his wife’s trunk, not wanting the reminder of her to follow him back to England, and President Smith had given her belongings to Anne as a wedding gift. Since Anne had loved her mistress, she counted it an honor to own her things. And today, on the most important day of her life, she stood in her mistress’s best gown, awaiting President Smith’s call to the church.

  The gown was made of silk, the color of burnt orange, with a skirt worn wide at the hips. Long, tight sleeves went down to her fingers, with pointed oversleeves draping to her waist. A high lace collar accentuated Anne’s hair, which she’d painstakingly styled in curls. At her throat she wore white pearls. Never in her life had she imagined she’d be so lavishly dressed, but her mistress had been the closest thing Anne had had to a mother, and it felt right to have her things close.

  Nerves caused Anne’s stomach to burble, and she put her hand over the tight bodice to quell the feeling. She bowed her head and clasped her hands to thank God for the blessing of her marriage.

  There was not another woman in James Fort to assist her today, but Anne knew it wouldn’t be long before others joined her. At the moment, though, none of that mattered. Her beloved was alive and well and waiting for her at the church. Even if they were all alone in North America, as long as she had him, she would be content.

  Thinking of her husband-to-be, Anne smiled. He had gained his strength a
nd vitality back faster than she thought possible, and she surmised his eagerness was due to their impending wedding. Her smile turned to a grin when she thought of his boyish excitement and his heartfelt passion. She longed for the hour when she’d finally be his wife, in mind, body, and spirit.

  “Anne?” President Smith knocked at the door. “Are you ready?”

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted the hem of her gown and opened the door to greet President Smith.

  He stood for a moment, admiration lighting his eyes. “You are lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  President Smith offered his arm, and she took it with gratitude. Her legs were shaking, and her knees felt weak. It would be good to lean on him as they walked to the church.

  He led her outside where the men had lined up, shoulder to shoulder, creating a path for her to take to the church. She paused for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light—and the grand reception.

  Everyone in James Fort had come out for the wedding. Some wore the finest clothes she’d ever seen, while others wore mere rags—but every person had the same thing in common: their generous smiles.

  Daniel stood in the middle of the walkway of men, a bouquet of pale purple flowers she’d never seen before in his grasp. His ears were as red as apples when he presented the flowers to her. “With my best wishes on your marriage, Anne.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she took the flowers from the boy. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  He gave a sheepish grin and then stepped aside for her to pass.

  “God’s blessing on your marriage,” called out one man after another. They doffed their caps as she passed. Some she knew by name, others were still strangers to her, but all of them seemed to take pride in being at the first wedding in North America.

  The air was cool and crisp and the sky was as blue as a robin’s egg, with nary a cloud overhead. Just beyond the palisade walls, the James River sparkled in the sunshine. But it was the church, which stood tall and proud in the center of the fort, that captured Anne’s attention.

  As they moved past each man, he stepped in behind her, starting with Daniel, and followed her all the way to the church, singing “Come Live with Me.” The men’s voices and their encouragement strengthened her courage as she came to stand outside the church doors.