Silver Tears (17 page)

“If only I didn’t have to go. How will I ever get through these next months without you?” he moaned.

His words struck her heart like a blizzard. Months? All the fire drained from her blood. She went suddenly numb all over.

“You can’t go, Chris! I won’t let you!”

He lifted his head from her breast and stared into her eyes. “Do you think I want to leave you? I’ll come back to you as soon as I can, but we need to prepare ourselves for the worst. Hostilities are likely to continue through the summer and into the fall. I may be forced to wait out the winter up there. But I’ll be home with the first thaw, long before then if it’s left up to me.”

She remained silent for a moment, her mind whirling. Yes, perhaps he did want to leave. He’d wanted for months to be back in Maine. Now he was about to get his wish. How cozy for him that he could leave his bride safely tucked away in Boston while he roamed his beloved wilds, a free man again. And if he needed a woman while he was away, he could pay a call on Ishani. She’d probably be happy to see him again. The thought struck unbearable pain in Alice’s heart. She sat up suddenly and shoved her husband’s hands away.

“If you really love me, you won’t go.”

Gunn rose from the bed in a jerky motion as if he’d just been hit in the face. “That’s not fair,” he complained.

“Your leaving me here is not fair. I’m your wife now, your first responsibility. Your duty lies here, Christopher Gunn.”

“My duty lies in saving lives, if I can. No wife has a right to make such selfish demands on her husband. What can you be thinking?”

Unshed tears caught in Alice’s throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. She loved this man so much, but she must stand her ground now or forever play a secondary role in his life.

“I’m thinking, husband, that if you want a right to be called by that name, you had better act the part.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” He came back to the bed, pulling off his shirt.

Alice quickly rebuttoned her bodice and drew away. “Oh, no,” she said with deadly calm. “You can’t have it both ways, Gunn. If you want to love me, you’ll take me with you. If you plan to leave alone, leave now.”

For several moments they did silent battle with their eyes. Neither gave way. Finally Chris began pulling off his clothes. Alice sat on the far side of the bed, her eyes wide as she watched her husband strip naked. The sight of his strong muscles and throbbing erection both thrilled and frightened her. She held her breath, hoping against all hope that he was about to lunge across the bed and rip her wedding gown off. Despite her threats, she still wanted him.

Her heart sank as he pulled on his buckskin trousers and shirt, preparing for his long ride back to Maine. Alice swallowed hard, aching to weep, but determined not to. She would not give him that satisfaction.

“You’re going then?” she finally managed.

He turned and stared at her, something between loathing and lust blazing in his dark eyes. “You know I have to. But I’ll be back for you and you’d better be here waiting.”

He went to the bed and pulled her to him. One hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back. He kissed her fiercely, then turned to leave.

As Alice heard the horses thunder away from the house, she collapsed on the bed, a bleak, cold ache possessing her heart.

A
lice would have liked to keep her secret between herself and her husband, but to her utter mortification she soon found out that every one of their wedding guests knew Christopher Gunn had departed without bedding his bride.

Making plans for the shivaree to follow the wedding, William Phips and several of his coconspirators had sawed nearly through the bed ropes in both Alice’s and Christopher’s rooms, not sure which the couple would retire to on their first night. The thud of the mattress crashing to the floor was to have been the guests’ signal to bring out their pot lids and wooden spoons, their cowbells and their duck calls for a raucous serenade that would have kept the couple from their appointed business for much of the night. But there had been no bedding, so there was no shivaree and no secret for Alice to hide.

The new Mrs. Gunn refused to see or talk with anyone the night her husband left, but the next morning Mary Phips demanded to be allowed to enter the room. She found yesterday’s bride, sullen and rumpled, still lying on the bed, where her husband had left her. She looked for all the world, Mary thought, like one of those old Indians who had decided simply to forget all else, go off alone, and die.

“My darling girl!” Mary cried, going to Alice and enfolding her in a motherly embrace. “This won’t do. It simply won’t do. You have to pull yourself together. You’ve had a horrible shock, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s the end of mine,” Alice said with a weary sigh. “Chris left me. He left without even—”

“There, there, dear. I know all about it.”

Alice drew back, a grimace of horror on her face. “How could you know what happened between us last night?”

“The two of you weren’t exactly whispering to each other up here, Alice. I’m afraid we had no choice but to hear. Besides, my own William—that terrible man—confessed what he’d done to the bed.”

“The bed?” Alice looked puzzled.

Mary shifted her weight, trying to stall while she thought how to explain, and just then the frayed ropes let go. The two women shrieked and clung to each other as the mattress and bedclothes avalanched to the floor. Sheepishly, Mary explained to Alice about the shivaree as she helped her up.

“I’ll never be able to face any of them again,” Alice wailed. “Oh, Mary, this is the blackest day of my life.”

Mary reached out, ready to offer her more sympathy, but she changed her mind and drew back. Alice couldn’t go on this way. Her husband was likely to be gone for months. It was not all that unusual for husbands and wives to be separated for long periods. Mary herself had waited alone in Boston for five long years while Will gallivanted about the world on his treasure hunts and trips back and forth to England. It was time Alice grew up and learned to face reality.

“If only he’d let me go with him,” Alice wailed. “I could have stayed in the cabin. He must know I love him enough to give up Boston’s comforts to be with him.”

Mary shook her head. “Christopher was thinking of your safety first, dear. He doesn’t want you up there while the Indians are a constant threat.”

“I think he just doesn’t want me, period.”

“Enough of this moping!” Mary commanded.

Alice glanced up, shocked by her friend’s fierce tone.

“I mean it, young lady,” Mary said. “You’re not a child any longer, but a grown, married woman. Life isn’t always sunbeams and roses. We have to face the bad along with the good. Look at the bright side of things. While Christopher is away, I’ll have time to teach you everything you need to know about being a proper wife to him.”

“But I’m not his wife,” Alice moaned.

“Stop that, Alice Gunn,” Mary ordered severely. “You most certainly are his wife. And it’s high time you started acting the part. Your husband didn’t dash off on some harebrained scheme. He’s gone on a heroic mission, to save lives and to save the Maine territory for the king of England. He deserves better than a wife who sits about whining and feeling sorry for herself.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” Alice countered.

“Oh, really? Then tell me, Goodwife Gunn, exactly what are you doing?”

“I’m dying, Mary, just dying inside. I love Chris so much, and he left me. Now what am I to do?”

Mary felt a painful tug at her soft heart. Poor dear thing, she thought. But she kept a stiff upper lip. “First off, I suggest you get out of that rumpled wedding gown, wash your face, brush your hair, and get ready for breakfast. You probably need a good hot meal right now more than anything else. So go to your own room now, Alice, and make yourself presentable. I’ll see you downstairs directly.”

Mary gave Alice no chance to argue, but swished immediately out of the room.

Alice still wanted to scream and throw things and sob her heart out as she’d wanted to all night. Her eyes burned from holding herself back. She rubbed them hard, trying to force even a single tear, but to no avail. Through the years following her mother’s final edict, she’d lost her ability to weep.

As she rubbed her eyes, the shiny new wedding band felt cold against her cheek. She glanced at it, then held her hand up to the sunlight streaming through the window. It shimmered brightly, a halo glowing on her hand.

“Oh, Chris,” she said, sighing. “This time yesterday…” She refused to finish the thought. Yesterday was gone forever. Today and tomorrow were all that mattered.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the door. Mary was absolutely right. All this moaning and sighing would simply age her before her time. She glanced in the mirror over Chris’s shaving stand. She was young, she was pretty, she was alive, and she was also in love and married to the man who had claimed her heart. She would dream of Chris at night, but she would not pine away for him. She would simply have to get on with her life.

As she started for the door, she spied her husband’s discarded wedding clothes in a heap near the fallen bed. Reaching down, she picked up his shirt and held it to her lips. The warm smell of him clung to the fabric. Ignoring her pledge of a moment ago, Alice allowed herself one last moment of self-pity before she hurried from the room.

The gentle weeks of spring proved painful to Alice, but she refused to give in to the ache in her heart. Following Mary’s instructions, she learned how to bake, make soap and candles, and spin thread and weave cloth. Each day seemed busier than the one before it. Mary refused to allow the newlywed to sit home alone, saying, “You’re not a widow any longer, my dear, but a wife. And women love the company of other women. You’ll have little enough social life once Christopher returns to cart you off to the wilds.”

So Alice visited Mary’s neighbors, attended quilting bees, musicales, and church gatherings. Mary even took her to hear the much fabled Reverend Cotton Mather, though Alice cringed all through the service. It seemed to her that the Puritan preacher’s booming voice was aimed directly at her. She felt his threats of eternal damnation like cannon shots aimed point-blank at her soul. The man’s fierce eyes seemed to blaze at her. She slunk lower and lower in her seat as his sermon on the foibles of females raged on.

After the lengthy service Alice tried to hurry Mary away from the Salem Meeting House, but her ploy failed. Reverend Mather caught them and clung to Alice’s arm with a vise-like grip.

“Ah, Lady Phips, I’m happy you’ve finally honored our humble congregation with your august presence. And this must be the widow who has recently wed.” Although he spoke to Mary, his pale, galvanizing gaze remained on Alice. “You would have done well to heed my warning. That union was the devil’s work. I’ve heard what happened afterward.” He shook his great head at them both. “’Twas an evil affair with a fitting end.”

“There’s been no end to it, sir,” Mary countered. “This woman’s husband was called away on the king’s business. He’ll return, and return a hero.”

Reverend Mather clucked his tongue. Ignoring Mary’s reply, he continued gazing at Alice. “Read your Bible, Goodwife Gunn, and heed its teachings lest the devil steal into your life once more.”

With a gasp of pure outrage Mary tugged Alice away from the man and headed at a near-trot for their carriage.

“What did he mean, Mary?” Alice demanded in a panic.

“Pay no attention to him. I should never have brought you here. The man’s a pompous fanatic. I’m glad he refused to preside over your wedding. I hope we’ve seen the last of him and the Salem Meeting House. I’ll certainly not darken that door ever again.”

Mary dismissed the entire incident with a snort and a frown, but Alice could not as easily erase Cotton Mather’s warning to her.

The arrival of summer brought little relief to Alice’s troubled mind. Several short messages arrived from Chris, telling her he was well and that he missed her. But still he could give her no hint as to when he might return. The situation in Maine, he said, was still dangerous and unpredictable, and talks with Baron de Saint Castin were at a stalemate. “We’re sitting on a powder keg up here” was the way he described the situation in one of his letters. His words did little to ease her.

One surprise development of July at first distressed Alice, but turned out to be rather a pleasant arrangement all around. Will Phips contracted Jonathan Hargrave to captain one of his new ships. While construction of the vessel was being completed, Will asked Hargrave to move out of his room at the inn and into the Phips home, residing in the guest room Gunn had formerly occupied. Though Will was not terribly fond of the captain, he had to admit Hargrave was one of the best seamen in Boston, and he hoped they could work closely together even after normal business hours. And with Alice married and Gunn away, Phips did not anticipate further trouble from him, particularly under his Mary’s roof.

Alice would have raged in protest when she first heard the news, but since she was accepting the Phipses’ hospitality, she felt she had no right to dictate whom they allowed to stay in their other spare rooms.

The first few days after Jonathan moved in proved uncomfortable for him and Alice. Meals became silent, strained affairs, and the rest of the time Alice avoided him as often as she could.

It was not until one hot night in August that the emotional ice melted. Mary, Alice, and Will had been sitting in the side yard after supper, trying to catch a cool breeze off the river. Captain Hargrave had been away from the house all day and had not returned for the evening meal. Now, as the stars twinkled overhead and the oppressive heat of the long day faded to gentle warmth, the three friends sat together chatting about nothing that would tax their brains.

Finally Will yawned and stretched. “I’m done in, ladies. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

“I will not excuse you, William Phips,” Mary said with a chuckle, “but I’ll join you.”

Will sighed in feigned disappointment, then said, “I thought sure I’d be able to go up to my bed and get right to sleep for a change. But a husband must do what a husband must do.”

Mary cuffed his ear good-naturedly as they said good night and left Alice alone with her thoughts. Of course, they were all about Chris: Where was he now? Was he all right? When would he return? Did he still love her?

Lost in these questions, she looked up and spied a dark figure leaning against the old elm tree a short distance away. Her heart raced. Could it be?

“I hope I didn’t startle you, Alice.”

Her heart ceased its wild beating when she heard his voice. It wasn’t Chris after all, but only Jonathan Hargrave.

“No, Jon. As a matter of fact, I didn’t see you there until just now.”

He came nearer. “I apologize for spying on you, but you look so lovely in the moonlight. You’re a handsome woman, Alice, there’s no denying that.”

She smiled at his compliment. “I thank you, kind sir. It’s not often a man tells me such nice things these days.”

“It’s a lonely life, isn’t it, Alice?” She knew by the way he said it that he referred to his own life as much as hers.

“I have friends,” she replied.

“But sometimes friends aren’t enough. May I join you?”

“If you wish,” she answered, indicating the chair Will Phips had vacated.

He sank down with a weary sigh. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’ve been down at the shipyard?”

“Aye. I want to see that every spar and length of canvas is perfect before it becomes a part of the
Lady Witch
.”

Alice shuddered slightly at the new vessel’s name. “Who decided to call her that?”

He chuckled softly. “Sir William allowed me to name her, and I couldn’t very well call her the
Alice
now that you’re a married woman. So I chose the next best thing. I hope you aren’t offended that I wanted to name her after you.”

“Not at all. It’s only that all references to witches send a shiver through me. I’d have much preferred you use my Christian name.”

Now he laughed out loud. “And have that husband of yours rip my heart out with his bare hands? I’m not that brave, Goodwife Gunn.”

“Please don’t.” Alice half rose as if she meant to leave.

“Don’t what?” Hargrave asked. “Have I upset you in some way? If so, please accept my sincerest apology.”

Alice settled uneasily back in her chair. “It’s just… it doesn’t sound right when I’m called a good wife. A woman must have a husband in order to feel like a wife.”

“You won’t be alone much longer, Alice. If all goes well with his mission, your husband could return before the fall. Will says the Indians settle down as cold weather approaches. Then, unless Gunn’s taken leave of his senses, he’ll head straight back to you.”

“How I wish I could know that for certain,” she whispered.

“He promised as much. I heard his very words as he left you—‘I’ll be back and you’d better be waiting for me.

Alice groaned and hid her face in her hands. “Oh, mercy, did everyone in the whole world hear everything we said that night?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said softly, “but it was difficult not to.”

Thinking about it, Alice giggled like a girl. “Have you ever before heard of such a ridiculous wedding night? Oh, what a row we had!”