A Place in His Heart (27 page)

“There is so much to accomplish, is there not?”

“Aye, and it is not an easy thing. We talked about laws to govern us, Mary, and I found one or two of them quite repulsive. It seems most of the men were inclined to allow a man to hit his wife, as long as the stick were no bigger than his thumb.” He held up his calloused thumb and frowned.

She pulled his face around, gently forcing him to look at her. “'Tis terrible, Barney, what did you say to them?”

“I said I had never hit Ann, and I had never hit you. I told
them I did not believe God would take a rib from man and make a helpmeet for him and then allow him to hit her. I have never believed it to be right. Never.”

Mary kissed her husband's cheek. “You are an honorable man, Barnabas Horton. I admire how you stand up for what you believe.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “It did no good. Only one other person would agree with me.”

“You were still right to say what you believe.”

“The thing that pains me, though, is I might one day have to be the one who rules in court on these very issues. There was talk of making me a magistrate, which I would accept as my duty. But this I can promise you. I shall never hit you. You are safe with me.” He looked deeply into her eyes.

“I believe you. I have never feared you. I have always felt safe.” She studied his face as she weighed her words carefully. “I do not mean to cause you hurt, but I do struggle with trusting you. 'Tis still a problem at times. But I have seen a change in you, Barney—just since we arrived here at Yennicott. That means a lot to me. 'Tis my choice to trust you. The alternative is to be miserable and I do not want that. I pray that I am right.”

The night air was warm and heavy, but he pulled the curtains around them. “I do not wish to hurt you, not with a stick, nor with my actions, nor with my words.” He wrapped her in his arms and tenderly kissed her.

The next morning she woke to the sun already shining through the window. Barney had surely been up for hours. Why had he not called the family for morning prayers? She pulled on her muslin frock, brushed through her hair, and piled it high on her head, securing it with pins.

Barney had left oak and cherry logs, split and stacked on end, next to the hearth. She tied her apron around her waist and stirred the embers she'd banked the night before. She stacked several of the logs in triangle fashion, making sure there was a channel between each for air to reach the flames. Dried moss and pieces of bark tucked between the logs ignited as air swooshed from the bellows. The flames leapt upward toward the logs. It would take almost an hour for the wood to burn down to the hot, orange coals.

As the fire grew, she hauled water in from the rain barrel to fill the large, black iron pot that hung to the side of the fire. She kept it filled daily to ladle hot water for cooking, washing dishes, and bathing.

After poking the fire here and there to encourage the flames, Mary donned her cap and walked down the lane to the storage
pit where their cold food remained until Barney finished the cellar for the house.

Mistress Terry was working in her garden as Mary passed. “Good morrow, Mistress Horton. Patience tells me you request our presence for dinner this day.” She smiled broadly, a yes on her face.

“Yes, my husband and I would be grateful if you would come and share a meal with us.”

“Indeed. We would be honored to join you. Patience tells me that your home is lovely and I would enjoy seeing it. Mr. Terry and I have been admiring the construction.”

“I shall look forward to giving you a tour.”

She grinned and bid her good day. She stooped at the herb garden she kept near the storage pit to pluck bunches of sage, mint, lemon verbena, and thyme and stuffed them into her apron pocket. She removed the deerskin from the top of the pit and lifted the turkey she had plucked the morning before. Carrying it carefully in her arms, and humming a soft tune, she breathed the cool morning fragrance of bayberry bushes and honeysuckle in bloom.

She entered her kitchen, arms full, singing her “mares eat oats” song.

Jay stood up from the table to help her. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For me?” Hmmm, from whence did this come—certainly he'd never surprised her before.

“Aye. No need to worry, I do think you will like it.”

Ben walked out from the bedroom, boots in hand. “A surprise?”

“Not for you, for . . . for . . .”

“For me, Ben. He has a surprise for me.”

He looked at his brother. “For Mother? Why can you not say it?”

“Ben,” Mary said quietly. “'Tis all right. Jay, I would truly like to see your surprise.”

Jay looked relieved and started for the door. “Follow me. You too, Ben.”

They followed him out and around to the back of the lot. There, standing straight, its branches reaching out and waving in the wind, stood the English apple tree, almost as tall as Ben.

“Jay. I cannot speak.” Tears wet her lashes and her lip trembled. She walked forward and knelt on the ground, her fingers lightly caressing the leaves. “Thank you. You have taken such good care of my little tree and a better spot could not be found.” She looked around at Jay, dabbing her cheeks with her apron. “You touch my heart with your kind spirit.”

“I'm glad you like it. I'll keep it watered for you. In a year or two mayhap it will bear apples.” He looked back at the tree, his cheeks ruddy.

“Pippins, sweet English pippins. Now, shall we go in and have a bit of cheese before I start my dinner preparations? After we eat, the two of you should go find your father. Perhaps he is across the lane with Reverend Youngs. I have plenty to do here.” She loved the fact she had a house to tend. “And, prithee, would you ask your father to invite the reverend and his family to dinner?”

They broke their fast, and the boys went off to find their father. Mary continued her preparations. She poked a skewer through the fat turkey and propped it above her fire. She timidly put her hand between the flame and the turkey breast, testing the heat. It met with her approval and she made a mental note to check it often. She added a rabbit stew to another trammel.

She went out once more to gather the rest of the meal. She picked a beautiful pumpkin that would go together with the beans she had soaking, nestled in the embers on one end of the hearth, and the corn she had ground with Patience and Winnie. Simmered with some salt pork, it would become samp porridge, a favorite of Winnie and her people.

Back inside with her treasures from the field, she turned the turkey a quarter turn and measured the heat once more with her hand. She threw another log into the fire with a thwack. The shower of sparks she created drew a smile. She gave a series of little kicks to the log until she was satisfied with its position.

After the seeds were scraped from the pumpkin, she set them aside to dry and cut the pumpkin into chunks. She gave the turkey another twist, pleased with the appearance of the rich, golden skin.

She took her heavy iron pot from the shelf and wiped it with her rag. Barney had brought it home as a gift after one of his travels to New Amsterdam. Setting it down on the hearth, she studied her coals. The glow was captivating and only after she felt the heat radiate on her face did she realize she was staring, transfixed.

She gathered the ingredients she needed to prepare her bread batter. Today she used the basic recipe Winnie taught her when they arrived, but would add molasses, eggs, and cow's milk. Butter, churned the morning before, would be melted in the bottom of the flat-iron pan. Although she and Barney favored the yeast breads, the johnny-cakes baked in the fire would save time.

A knock interrupted as she wiped the mug she used to measure ingredients. She moved to the door. “Patience, good morrow. 'Tis a delight to see you. I've passed your mother twice this morning.”

“I thought you might need some help. I have brought you a basket of cranberries that I picked. Mother told me you were back and forth to your cold storage. Is there anything else you need? Anything I might get for you?”

Mary gave her a warm hug. “Nay, I think I have everything on hand now, but I do appreciate you coming to help. Thank you for the cranberries. I'm going to mix a johnny-cake and put the samp together. I think the berries would be delicious in the johnny-cake, do you agree?”

“Ohhhh, yes—let me put it together for you.”

They worked together, chatting about how wonderful it would be when everybody had their homes built. It would be a true neighborhood and they would once again be a part of the society they had left so long ago. Winnie arrived early, ahead of her husband and children, to offer her help. She brought with her potatoes and what Mary called Indian turnips, the tuberous root of the jack-in-the-pulpit plant. The three prepared a feast that could feed the whole township, with flavors and foods that blended the two cultures.

When Barney and the boys returned with the reverend in tow, Mary sent Jay and Ben out with baskets to pick strawberries. The crowning dessert would be a fruit and cheese tart. Someday, she promised herself, she would make a lovely apple pie, brimming with the luscious English variety of the fruit and carefully tucked into a light and golden crust.

Joan, the wife of the reverend, entered with their six children. The boys' excitement could not be contained and they all traipsed out to the yard where a game of race quickly became one of chase.

“I could smell the turkey from the church,” Joan said as she entered the kitchen. “What may I do to help?”

Mr. and Mistress Terry arrived and Mary gave them a tour as they expressed amazement at what Barney had achieved. Mr. Terry ran his hand along a window casement, admiring the workmanship.

Soon Winheytem and his six children appeared with armloads of wildflowers.

“They are beautiful and perfect for our table. Thank you.” Mary made a curtsey as she accepted the bundle and tucked a bunch into her red slipware jug.

Abigail offered to take her brothers and sisters out to the yard and soon all fourteen children chased each other like fireflies. Mary's eyes misted. If she could but have just one of her own.

Barney and John took Winheytem to the yard and they watched the children play while they conferred on the best spot for an orchard. Perhaps where the little English apple tree stood would be the best location after all. Mary caught Barney watching her through the open window, as she bustled about. His look said it all. He was not only proud of the fine house he'd built, he was proud of her as well.

She and the ladies soon had the table laden with bowls, tureens, and platters of steaming soups, sauces, vegetables, and meats. As the men entered, Mary placed a platter of cheese and preserved fruits at the end of the table. The children were called, and after a blessing led by Reverend Youngs, everyone piled their plates, helping the children first.

Mary rang a silver bell. “Children, Jay and Ben will take you outside and show you their favorite spot to have dinner on the ground. Abigail, can you help them too?” She scooted all but the littlest out and turned to Barney.

He stood with a plate heaped for her, and another of his own, and together they sat down with their guests. The conversation
was relaxed and warm, and Mary smiled as she watched her guests enjoy themselves.

Everyone helped in cleaning the dishes and putting away the food, most of it packed for guests to take home. As guests began to depart, Jay and Ben excused themselves and retreated to their room for the night.

As Winnie prepared to leave, she took Mary aside. “Thank you for the good feast. We have learned much from each other, but there is much more to learn. In a new year, when you have your bees and field of oats, we will have much work to do.”

Patience joined them and Mary smiled contentedly at her two friends. “Yes, Winnie, we shall. Jeremy will return soon with my beehive and seeds. We can help each other plant and cultivate it.” She rubbed her belly. “My, I feel like I shall not eat for another week, I ate so much today.” She tried to stifle a yawn, but her friends did not miss it.

Patience took her hand. “'Tis been a long day and you are very tired. We should go now and let you rest. Thank you for including us, this was very special.”

Winnie offered her hand as well. The three stacked their hands together and said their farewells.

Barney stood at the door with Mary as the last of their guests departed. He wrapped her in his arms. “This was magnificent, Mary. I am astounded by your ability at preparing a meal. My sweet, you have officially outdone even my finest meal.” He kissed her soundly.

It took her a moment to catch her breath. “Thank you, but you err. I will never outdo our wedding feast. Never, no matter how hard I try.”

He smiled. “You remember the feast with your emotions, and it makes the memory all the sweeter. No, you handled your
duties with grace and I am pleased with all you have done today to entertain our friends.” He led her to the hearth and picked up the large iron tongs. With a bow he offered them to her. “I officially hand you the tongs, my sweet.”

A quiver pricked her heart and she brought the tongs to her chest as she stepped close to him. “I am overcome. I—I do not know what to say.” She looked up into his face as if she could search his deep, moss-green eyes and see to his soul. Would the words she longed to hear be written there?

He kissed the top of her head. “Now shall we retreat to bed? I do believe the boys have.”

“Yes, Barney, you go ahead. I shall be right in.” She took a step back but held tightly to the tongs.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Nay, I shall not be long.”

He left the room and she carefully set the tongs on the shelf above the hearth. She poked at the last embers and covered them with the ash. Slowly she sank into the chair by the fire. Head bent, she covered her eyes with her hands. The day had been full, the food abundant, and the shared friendship to be treasured. Barney had been so sweet and attentive.

Why did she feel so sad? Was this not a day she dreamt about? The tongs, he'd given her the tongs. But what of his love?

She looked toward the bedroom where he waited. She took a breath and with determination decided to be brave. Perhaps he waited to tell her the words she longed to hear.

He must love her. The days ahead would be so sweet. She pushed the bedroom door open and walked to the bed. He clutched his Bible, open to the page with the frayed blue ribbon. The sadness in his eyes could not be missed.

“Barney, what is wrong?” She lowered herself beside him.

“Nothing, nothing, my sweet.”

“Nay, I know something bothers you.”

He laid his head on the pillow and turned away. “It was a good day. Truly. But once I sat back here, I could not help but think how Ann would have loved all of this. That is selfish of me, I fear.”