The Hour of Dreams (5 page)

When we got to where Charity would normally turn off, she suggested we follow the path up the hill between our houses. That way we could walk together longer, and when we reached a certain point, she would walk down one side and me the other, to go our separate ways.

We also liked the hill because it gave us a view of all the acreage that stretched between our houses. We’d often sit up there and dream about what our lives would be like beyond what our eyes could see.

By the time we reached the top, she had already mapped out how old she was going to be when she left. She said that being sick had made her realize that time was wasting away. Listening to her talk about it made me feel claustrophobic also. I loved my family and my life, but felt like I was missing out on something.

We stood at the top of the hill and gazed out. It was beautiful. Our feelings swelled to pure hope and worry. Somehow we knew that tension was building beyond those hills. We'd heard talk that rebels and loyalists were among us, but Mother believed it would pass. Hmm, then why was I carrying a gun today? The thought stayed with me until Charity’s raised voice sliced through the air.

“What’s that?” she said, pointing.

“Where?” I asked, following her finger.

“Right there?”

My vision wasn’t as sharp as hers, but I squinted hard enough and was able to make out the objects of her concern. Red-and-white formations marching north along the road below us.

“Are those soldiers?”

I looked harder. “I think so.” Charity said they looked like the king’s men who frequently passed through our town and sometimes patrolled for long periods of time. But something about the massive size of this group told me this was something different.

“I think we should tell our parents,” I murmured.

“I think you’re right.”

We took one final look and nodded toward each other before heading down opposite sides of the hill.

“They’re a bit fancy-looking, aren’t they?” she called over her shoulder.

I smiled and waved, not sure what to say about that. They looked impressive, but to the best of my knowledge, we’d never really interacted with them before.

About fifty feet from our porch, I spotted my father and brother running from the woods that surrounded our small farmhouse. That’s when panic started to set in.

“Get in the house, Phoebe! Right now.”

I picked up the hem of my dress and hurried through the door, placing the half-full pail of water on the floor. Mother turned with a start as Father and Andrew burst through right after me.

“What is it, John?”

“The Redcoats. They’re coming.” The look in his wide eyes sent fear through my shoulders and down to my knees.

My mother immediately went to the window. “Where?”

“About a mile out. People are talking of an invasion.”

“Here?” she quailed, turning quickly from the window.

“No, I don’t think so. Francis Adams says they’re headed north.”

“So we’re safe then.”

“No, Martha.”

Her eyes darted between me and my brother and then back to my father. “Why not?”

“Because they’re passing through, and up until now, we haven’t had to choose a side. And now we just might.”

S
eeing my parents prepare for the worst was unsettling. My mother restlessly cooked dinner while Father hid all of our valuables. Halfway through our meal, a knock sounded at the front door. Mother jumped and started to pray.

Father put his hand up to hold us still and then hesitantly made his way toward the doorway. He didn’t have it all the way open before a man in a red coat and bright white trousers barged in.

“Good evening,” he said, peering around the room with one hand on the hilt of a sword at his hip. Once his gaze settled upon us, he spoke quickly. “I assume you and your family are loyal to the king?” The man tilted his head forward, waiting for an answer.

I swallowed hard and glanced toward my mother, who was wiping her hands on her apron and staring at my father.

“Well, are you or are you not?” the man demanded, standing slightly taller.

“We are,” my father said, stepping forward. His answer surprised me, but I knew well enough not to react as such. The man turned back to me and my mother and then appraised the table.

“I’m sorry, madam, to interrupt your meal, but my soldiers have been traveling a long distance and we are in need of refuge. Two will stay here. They will need their clothes washed and a hot meal.”

My mother sat frozen, unable to speak. “Shall I expect your hospitality then?” he asked, raising a thick brow at her. She still didn’t move, not even a blink, so I nudged her foot beneath the table.

“Um…certainly,” she answered, finally coming to life.

“Good then.”

He nodded and walked out, and it felt like we all breathed for the first time. But just as I was feeling the slightest relief, he came back in, guiding the way for others. “You two will stay here and wait for further orders.”

The air became even cooler as a soldier hustled his way through the doorway. His presence felt invasive, and he looked dirty, as did the blankets and satchel he was carrying on his back. My mother gasped. I turned back to see a second soldier duck through the doorway. Part of my mind wanted to shout “Wes!” but my body stayed still, confused because my dream-self only knew him as the second soldier.

His movements were hesitant and more cautious than his comrade's. He took off his hat and looked around. He too looked dirty and tired, but his expression showed that he felt lost and confused, and when his brown eyes met mine, I found myself unable to look away.

The first soldier waited until his superior left and then spoke. “Thank the heavens. I’m dying for a bath and a hot meal.” The second one finally turned his gaze away from me to give his comrade a hard glare.

My father cleared his throat. “My family was in the middle of dinner.”

His words caused the first officer to glance our way before smiling. “Yes, I see that.” His eyes traveled over the food and then settled on me in a way that made me pull my shawl around myself.

He chuckled, and my mother got out of her seat.

“Martha,” my father started. “Can you check to make sure we have enough warm food for these young men? Phoebe, please get a warm wash basin going, and I will show them to your room. It has the most floor space. Phoebe, you will share Andrew’s room for now.”

I stood quickly and stole another glance at the men. The first one was still staring at me, his hand on his belt. The other one was now looking at the floor, which I was glad for, because I needed to walk right past him to get outside.

“I’ll put on the water,” Mother called.

I turned, nodding in appreciation, and slipped out. The washing quarters, a private stone addition attached to the back of the house, were simple but sufficient.

I grabbed a small wash basin and a couple of rags and carried them back into the house. By then the men had gone upstairs, and my mother was boiling water, mumbling to herself. I tried to keep her calm.

“Everything is going to be okay. I’m sure they’re just passing through.”

She turned to me with wet eyes. “I sure hope so, Phoebe. I sure hope so.”

The water was just starting to boil over the roaring fire, so she took the pail and poured half of it into the wash basin. I carried it out to the bath house and placed the dry rags over the edge of the basin. The small room darkened as the soldiers entered, causing me to jump.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little lady. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” The first soldier smiled as his eyes traveled down to my lips. “You can stay if you want.”

Dumbfounded and mortified, I backed up a step.

“Enough, Samuel,” the second one snapped in a way that struck me still.

“Re
lax
, William. How did I get burdened with you, anyway?”

Aside from being completely embarrassing, the encounter was odd. Samuel had such an intrusive personality, but somehow William seemed more intimidating. Like when he said something, he meant it.

I excused myself quietly, inadvertently brushing William’s shoulder in the cramped space. There was no way to describe it other than to say that it felt like time stood still for a moment. Just long enough for me to feel some sort of energy transfer from his shoulder to mine.

I shook off the strangeness and scurried back into the house.

My mother and father had their backs to the door, and they both turned with a fright.

“It’s just me.”

Father spoke up first. “Phoebe, go to your room with your brother and do not come out until you’re told.”

“Why?”

I glanced between them, knowing they were worried, but stood my ground.

“I’m eighteen now. And I have a right to know what’s going on.”

My mother opened her mouth to speak and then her shoulders drooped as she placed her hand on my father’s arm.

Visibly upset, he moved close to me and spoke in a near whisper.

“All right, but you cannot repeat one word of this or our lives will be in danger. There is rumor of a rebellion. There’s talk that the British are planning to attack a fort up north. I believe these men are headed that way. At this very moment, there are rebels preparing to meet them. The war is here. And we are right in the middle of it. Now I want you to stay out of sight. These men are very dangerous.”

Even in my dream state, I felt fear. Numbly, I turned toward the narrow stairs and made my way to my temporary room.

My younger brother was on a small cot next to mine, so there was barely any room to walk. As I settled next to him, he sat up.

“Who are those men?” he asked, his green eyes wide.

“They’re soldiers.”

“What kind?”

“What do you mean?”

“The good kind or the bad kind?”

I knelt beside him. “I don’t know, Andrew. And until we find out, we must stay away from them.”

“I want to be a soldier!”

I smiled, giving him a hug. “So brave. But the best soldiers aren’t just brave, you know. They have to be smart too. You can’t trust anyone. Not until you know for sure whether they’re on the good side.”

We stayed in our room the rest of the evening. Andrew tried his best to eavesdrop as my mother and father fed the two soldiers, and, to be honest, a part of me wanted to also. That night I lay on my cot, turning over a thousand thoughts. After Andrew fell asleep, I realized the two soldiers were talking in the room next to ours.

I slid down to the foot of the cot and pressed my ear against the wall. I was then able to hear the husky voice I recalled as Samuel's. “Did you see how they shielded the boy and girl from us?”

“No, I didn’t,” the other replied.

“How could you have not? And that man calls himself a loyalist.” He huffed.

“Why is it of your concern anyway? They’re giving you a warm place to stay and some much-needed meals.”

“That’s not all I need. I’d like to look at a woman every now and then, and that fine little lady of theirs would be a nice reward for my time in this wretched terrain.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“You don’t?”

“No.” There was a long pause. “At least not until now.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll be. William has an infatuation with a lady. She does have a fine body. At least from what I could see under that sack she was wearing.”

“I don’t have an infatuation,” William spat back.

“Then why so testy?”

“Because I’ve been fighting in this terrain as long as you have, and it’s my turn to get a reward.”

I pressed my lips together and suppressed a grunt. How dare they talk about me like that? Reward? Not if my life depended on it.

“Okay, Romeo. You can have this one as long as there is another nice set of legs somewhere in these godforsaken hills. Otherwise, you’re sharing.”

“What?” I shouted, jerking upright. I covered my mouth immediately, wondering whether anyone heard me.

“Sophie, you’re dreaming.”
Sophie?
I shook my head and realized that I was awake in my own room. Taking a deep breath, I felt around for a pillow. When one came within my grasp, I picked it up and tossed it at Wes.

“What was that for?” he asked, turning on the light.

“You were being a jerk…in my dream,” I clarified.

“I was? Impossible,” he chuckled.

“No, you were.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. It was something you said.”

“And what was that?” he asked, feeling his hair that was mussed from the pillow.

“I don’t know. You were talking about my body.”

“And that makes me a jerk?”

“Well, yeah. It was rude.”

He tossed the pillow back at me and rolled over.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m going back to sleep, and you should too. So you can finish your dream.”

“But I’m mad at you.”

Chuckling, he fluffed his pillow and plopped his head comfortably in the center. “Well, take it out on me in your dream.”

I grumbled and rolled over too, realizing that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

B
y morning, I felt an overwhelming urgency to leave the house. I looked around and, sure enough, the old, wooden-planked floor told me I was back in my dream. I listened until I heard the men leave, and then went downstairs. Mother was wiping out a pot with rapid, rough strokes. My father, who was still sitting at the table, looked up at my entrance.

I sat down, noticing the remnants of breakfast on previously full plates, which made me want to get away more. “Father? May I eat and go visit Charity?”

His mouth parted, and my mother turned around. “She can’t stay in her room all day. It will look suspicious.”

He exchanged a glance with my mother and then settled upon me. “I suppose your mother is right about you staying in your room. I don’t see any harm in you visiting your friend. John Jacobs said the soldiers passed on by the Martins’ road. Every other northern home all the way up to the Warrens’ pasture is housing soldiers, but they were spared.” My mother nodded and nervously went back to scrubbing. “Be home by dinner.”