Midnight (23 page)

Faith dearly wanted to know everything that had happened but he was too exhausted. After eating a bit of what she had left over from her dinner, he dragged himself outside to take a plunge into the cold swollen creek to rid himself of the stink and dirt of war. When he came back in, he gave her another kiss, then went to bed and slept like a dead man for a day and a half.

D
own the road, Charity’s worst fears had come true. While driving one of the munitions wagons sent out by Gage in the early dawn on the day of the fight at Concord, Ingram and the small escort of soldiers accompanying him for protection were fired upon. In the ensuing chaos he slapped down the reins to get the horses moving at a faster speed. One of the wagon’s wheels hit a boulder and he was thrown from the seat. In the fall, his neck was broken.

Mrs. Locke stopped by to give Faith the terrible news. Nicholas was still sleeping, so Faith quickly penned him a note and left with her to go and offer what solace she could to her grieving friend.

While Mr. and Mrs. Locke kept an eye on their grandson, Faith sat in the kitchen with the devastated Charity.

“What am I going to do without him?”

The sadness in Faith’s own heart welled up. She had no answer. Faith was sitting, but Charity was on her feet pacing. Her face was tearstained and her eyes were filled with pain.

Charity whispered hoarsely, “I loved him so much.”

“I know.” Faith had loved him, too, in her own way. Being with Nicholas she now understood that what she felt for Ingram wasn’t a lover’s love, but it didn’t diminish her grief.

“I’m carrying. How am I going to raise two children without their father?” She broke down into sobs.

Faith got up and held her while tears streamed down her own face. “You have me, and Nicholas, and your parents. We’ll help you through this.”

Faith knew that were she to lose Nicholas in such an abrupt way, no one would be able to help her through, so she held on to Charity even tighter.

“What do you need me to do?” Faith asked. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

They moved apart and both fished handkerchiefs out of their pockets to blow their noses. Charity spoke. “I need someone to dig his grave. I want to bury him by his mother and father.”

Ingram had lost both of his parents to last year’s smallpox epidemic. “We’ll do that. What else?”

“Someone to say the words over his grave.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for that as well.” Faith waited to hear if there were any other tasks needing attention.

Charity whispered brokenly, “I know there’s more but I can’t think.”

“That’s all right,” Faith said reassuringly. She wanted to soothe Charity’s pain but knew nothing could at the moment.

Mrs. Locke walked in. “Faith’s man is here. He wants to offer condolences, Chary. Shall I send him in?”

Charity nodded.

When Nicholas entered, the tiredness in his unshaven face was plain. “I’m sorry for your loss, Charity.”

Her emotions rose in response and she whispered, “Thank you, Nicholas.”

He held out his arms to her and she went to him and let him hold her while she cried. Faith cried silently as well. The future was going to be hard on Charity, even with the help of friends and family, but she was a strong, smart, resilient woman. She might bend but she wouldn’t break.

Once she and Nicholas parted he asked, “Do you know where he’ll be buried?”

“Yes. Here.”

“Do you have someone to dig his grave?”

She shook head.

“Then I shall. I’ll come back in the morning and you can show me where you’d like it to be.”

Faith could see relief course through Charity, who responded to the gracious offer by saying, “Thank you, Nicholas. You have set a part of me at rest.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

He looked over at Faith, and she nodded her silent and grateful thanks as well.

Charity said, “You two go on home. Nicholas, you look dead—” She paused and brought her hands to her mouth. “Dead on your feet,” she said, finishing the sentence in a whispered voice.

Faith walked over and gave her another strong hug. After a few moments, Faith offered, “I can stay the night if you wish.”

“No, you go on home. Mother and Father are here. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am. They’ll look after me and Peter.”

Faith knew that they would, so she said, “I’ll be back bright and early.” She walked over and stood by Nicholas, who gave her waist a sympathetic squeeze.

He said to Charity, “Again, my condolences.”

“Thank you.”

“Try and rest,” Faith said in parting. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

After bidding farewell to the Lockes, Faith and Nicholas drove home.

I
ngram Trotter was buried the next night. He’d been an only child, and since he’d lost his parents, Charity, Peter, and their unborn child were the sum of the family he left behind. To his credit, families both Tory and patriot came out to pay their respects. Even her father and Elizabeth were at the graveside. Faith ignored her father, as did Nicholas, but the Kingstons seemed intent upon ignoring them as well, so the short service performed by Arte’s kind uncle Absalom was as reverent as it was supposed to be. Dressed in her black widow’s weeds, Charity held Peter, who at such a young age would probably never remember his father, but Charity would and so would Faith. As Nicholas and some of the other men began to throw shovels of dirt upon the wooden casket holding Ingram’s body, many of the mourners drifted away, including her father and his tight-lipped bride. But Faith, Charity holding her son, and the Lockes stood silent until the grave was filled. Once Nicholas placed the temporary wooden headstone in place, they all processed back to the house.

Chapter 23

F
aith spent the next few days letting Nicholas get his rest, checking on Charity, and dealing with her own grief. At breakfast one morning, in an effort to lift her mood, Nicholas proposed they do something special.

��Such as?” she asked with interest.

“A day-long fishing adventure.”

“But aren’t you supposed to be on call just in case the British march again?”

“Everyone is, but no official word has come down yet.”

The colonial leaders were meeting in secret to formulate a plan to blockade Gage’s soldiers inside the city. The British general was reportedly furious at the drubbing his men had taken at Concord, and the rebels and their supporters were holding their collective breath in anticipation of him unleashing that rage by sending his troops back out into the countryside to burn and kill.

“So let’s make some fun while we can.”

“Where are we going to go?”

“Just down to the creek. In the event an alarm sounds I need to be where I can be found.”

The weather had warmed considerably over the past few days and Faith could certainly use an idyllic day, so she agreed. An hour later, carrying their fishing gear and everything else they needed to spend the day outdoors, they walked down to the creek, found a likely spot, and set up camp. They had a wonderful time. They fished, talked, cooked their catch over a fire, shared kisses, and talked about the future.

“What do you want to do once the war’s over?” she asked.

“Fill the house with daughters that look like their beautiful mother . . .” Nick was seated with his back against a tree and she was being held tenderly in his lap.

Faith felt that was a lovely thought.

“What about you?” he asked.

“When I’m not selling bread, have a passel of sons who are all brave and as handsome as their father.”

He hugged her against his heart and they were both content.

As night fell, they stretched out on the quilt and looked up at the stars. They were moved by the grand time they’d had together and although it was far past the time when they should have gathered up their things and headed back to the house, Nick treated his wife to her first taste of outdoor lovemaking.

“No screaming,” he warned her with a grin.

Although it was difficult, Faith somehow managed to keep from bringing the British down on their heads with her vocal responses to Nick’s uninhibited caresses. She had no idea that being nude under the night sky could be so arousing.

When they were sated and finally able to move again, they dressed and gathered up their belongings. Reeling from the experience, the two returned to the house and fell into bed.

Chapter 24

F
aith!”

When she heard Nicholas call her name there was something in his tone that led her to believe something was terribly wrong. Running to the parlor where she knew him to be, she entered hastily and found him standing beneath the portrait of his mother. The pain in his eyes stopped her. “What’s the matter?”

He directed her eyes up and when hers came to rest, her hand went to her mouth in horror. The painting had been damaged; no, destroyed. The large canvas had been slashed in so many places pieces of it hung in long curling strips that resembled the peelings from an apple. The violence had rendered it so irreparable, Adeline Grey would never smile down from the walls of parlor again.

As if in a trance Faith walked closer. In its present state it was almost impossible to tell the frame had held a portrait at all. “Oh, Nick.”

There was a deadly chill in his eyes. “We both know there’s only one person angry enough to do this.”

She agreed. “But when? It hadn’t been this way yesterday. I distinctly remember the portrait being fine before we left to go fishing.”

“As do I, so it must have taken place while we were out. We were far enough away from the house not to have seen anyone wanting to visit. Why he’d come isn’t important but he took advantage of our absence to do this. First Primus and now—”

Tight-lipped, Faith realized there was nothing she could say. Why was her father bent on tormenting them this way? His actions were hateful, ugly, and in her mind quite irrational. Was he so filled with malice at the past that he wanted to destroy everything connected to it? What would it take for him to move past his anger and the need for revenge and cease this awful campaign? “This has to end.”

Nick nodded. “Get your cloak. If we can’t talk some sense into him, I’m not sure what I may have to do.”

She nodded understandingly and hurried out to get her cloak.

It was Faith’s first return to the inn since her marriage, and when she and Nicholas entered, memories both good and sad flooded her mind. She wondered how the life she’d had there would have been different had her mother not died so long ago.

Her father was seated at one of the tables. At their entrance he glanced up and then smiled smugly. On the heels of their entrance, Elizabeth entered from the kitchen, looking weary and small. Upon seeing Faith and Nicholas, her eyes went wide with surprise. She quickly looked to her husband but he had his gloating attention fixed on Nick.

“Found what I did to your whore of a mother, did you?” he asked Nicholas.

To Nick’s credit he didn’t react.

“Should have done it when I first learned she’d spread her legs for that bastard father of yours.”

“Is that the only word you know?” Nick drawled, sounding bored. “I might be more insulted if your vocabulary weren’t so limited. I’ve heard parrots with a better stock of curses.”

Kingston’s eyes bulged.

Faith glanced up at Nick approvingly. He was taking the high road in a way that she applauded. If her father wouldn’t be reasonable, at least Nick wasn’t allowing himself to sink to his level. A quick look over at Elizabeth showed her smile at the tactic before she hid it away.

Nick continued, “It occurred to me that you are a sick old man, worthy of my pity and nothing more.”

Kingston jumped to his feet angrily and began a soliloquy of curses, threats, and hate that made Faith eye him as Nick had, with pity. Neither she nor Nick tried reasoning, or reacted or challenged him. They simply stood there and waited. Their lack of reaction only served to infuriate him further, and soon he was screaming like a man gone mad, hurling curses as if they were weapons.

The unholy glitter in his eyes wasn’t anything Faith had ever witnessed before and that concerned her. Had he really become unhinged? Would Elizabeth have to see about putting him away in a place where he could be watched and cared for so he wouldn’t harm anyone or himself?

Foam could be seen pooling at the corners of his lips. Sweat poured from his brow and shone on his face. Nothing he was saying was comprehensible anymore and Faith’s concern for his sanity increased.

Nick had seen all he could stomach. He placed a comforting hand on Faith’s waist. “Come. Let’s leave him to his madness. There’s nothing for us here.”

Faith agreed, and the part of her that had loved him was saddened. However, before they could take a step, her father clutched at his chest. His body went rigid and she watched in horror as his eyes rolled back and he sank to the floor.

She and Nick ran to him. Nick knelt over the unmoving man and placed his fingers against his neck. To Faith it didn’t appear as if he was breathing and Nick confirmed her fears in a quiet tone.

“He’s dead.”

Faith dropped her head into her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said.

But before she could acknowledge his sympathy, Elizabeth declared in a loud, satisfied-sounding voice, “Thank God!”

Faith stared.

“Don’t look at me that way,” she snapped in response. “My life has been a living hell. I’m glad he’s dead, and deep down inside, so are you.”

Faith couldn’t believe her callousness. Yes, Faith had suffered much at his hands during their life together, but her father’s death still saddened her very much.

“And,” Elizabeth added as she headed towards the stairs that led to the living quarters on the upper floor, “since you are so moved by his demise you can handle the funeral arrangements. I’ll not be attending.” She hurried up the steps and disappeared.

“What a hateful girl,” Faith stated once she and Nicholas were alone.

“I agree.”

Faith went to the linen closet to fetch a tablecloth and gently draped the white fabric over the lifeless remains. “Rest well, Father,” she voiced quietly.

She glanced up at Nick, who drew her into his arms and held her tenderly.

“I’m so sorry.”

She savored his sheltering embrace. “He was quite mad at the end, I think. Maybe now he’ll find peace.”

“We’ll hope. Will you handle the arrangements? I can hire someone if you prefer not to.”

“No. I’m the only blood he has left. I’ll do it.”

Elizabeth reappeared carrying a cloth valise. “I’ve taken nothing that wasn’t mine. If there’s anything coming to me from his estate, give it to my parents. They’ll know how to contact me.”

Faith couldn’t believe her ears, but there was something she had to know. “It’s rumored that you are with child. Is the baby my father’s?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Stuart couldn’t sire a fly. He was too old and soft, if you get my meaning.” On that, she sailed out.

Faith sighed.

S
tuart Kingston was laid to rest in Copp’s Hill Burying Ground the next day. The entire community both Tory and patriot came to the graveside to listen to the words and to pay their respects. Even General Gage sent a soldier bearing a handwritten note expressing his condolences. The gesture filled Faith with mixed emotions but she put it with the other missives she’d received and decided to sort out her feelings about it at a later time.

When the grave was closed and only she and Nick remained, she shed her first tears. He held her while she wept for the man she’d once loved, but who’d given her so little in return. When her grief had run its course, he placed a solemn kiss on her brow and whispered, “Let’s go home.”

In reality Nick had no feelings for Stuart Kingston. The only reason he felt anything was because of the pain he saw in his wife’s eyes. Kingston was dead, and now maybe Nick could find some peace of his own.

That night at home in bed, Nick glanced over at Faith lying so silent beside him. “How are you?”

She shrugged. “Sad. Even though he might not deserve it, it’s there.”

“You buried him with all the dignity due a parent. That should count for something.”

“I know.”

She rolled her head over and held his eyes. “I don’t ever want to have that kind of hate and anger touch our lives again, so in a way it is good that he’s gone.”

“I know. I feel the same. Eventually it may have affected what we have and that would have been a shame.” He pulled her back against him and held her tightly. “I love you, Faith.”

“I love you, too.”

A short few days later, the word came down from the Continental Congress to begin the blockade of Boston. Gage and his troops hadn’t left the city since taking the licking at Lexington earlier that month, and the Congress wanted to institute the blockade to ensure they never did. The idea was to rally minutemen from across the colonies to encamp on the city’s perimeter, thus preventing the troops from marching back out into the countryside.

Once again, Nick was heavy-hearted as he told his wife good-bye.

“I’m already weary of war,” she said to him. She was once again making sandwiches for him to take along.

“So am I but it can’t be helped. I just wish I knew how long this might take. According to Arte, men are pouring in from as far away as Virginia. The successes at Lexington have been a big boost for the cause.”

“I know, but I wish it would hurry and end so that you and I can have a continuous adventure instead of this disjointed and fragmented one.”

He smiled and tenderly raised her chin so he could memorize her midnight black eyes. “We will survive this challenge as well.”

Faith knew he was talking about the mess with her father. “Thanks for settling the inn’s debts so that it will stay in the family.”

“That was easy. With the help we’ve hired, all you’ll have to worry about is keeping the ledgers balanced, and I applaud your idea of running a bakery on the premises. I’ll feel better knowing you are there and safe and not peddling bread up and down the road during wartime.”

“I do, too.”

They fed on each other visually, because it would have to sustain them until they were together again.

“I must go,” he said.

They walked together out to the porch.

“Do not get yourself killed,” she scolded, as had become her habit at moments like this.

“Keep telling me that so I will remember,” he said with a soft smile.

Their final parting kiss was filled with such bittersweet tenderness it nearly broke their hearts, but he had a job to do and she had to let him go so that he could.

“Take care of yourself,” he told her.

“I will.”

A few moments later he rode away. Waving, she watched him through her tears until he vanished from sight, but she had no idea that it would be summer before he held her again.

T
ime passed slowly for Faith. She devoted her time to getting her bakery up and running, and because Bekkah and the pregnant Charity needed a way to occupy their time, Faith hired them to help with the baking.

The days turned into weeks. Although Bekkah had gotten word that Arte and his regiment were still camped outside Boston, Faith heard nothing about or from her own husband.

At the beginning of June, Bekkah entered the inn with happiness filling her face.

“What’s happened?” Faith asked. “Is the war over?”

Charity had been to the blockade to sell bread to the rebels. “Arte sent this to you. It’s from Nick!”

Faith all but snatched it out of her hand.

Charity smiled. “Go sit outside and read it. Hopefully it’s good news.”

Faith did exactly that and as she excitedly unwrapped the twine, she saw that it had been dated on the tenth of May and it read:

My dearest Faith.

My apologies for not corresponding sooner but there was no time. As I pen this I am in the wilds of Canada under the leadership of patriot commanders Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold. We are only eighty-three men strong but have successfully taken the British stronghold Fort Ticonderoga. I am aware of how slow the posts are, and that I may already be back in Boston by the time this reaches your hand. If not, rest assured that I am on my way. I’ve missed you sorely and am eager to hold you in my arms and resume our adventure. I hope you are well. My heart beats with yours.

Your loving husband, Nick

Faith raised her eyes to the sunshine and whispered through her happy tears, “My heart beats with yours as well, my Nick.”