To Capture Her Heart (32 page)
Darkness came early with the storm, and Lizzie lit candles in the kitchen below. The wind abated, but a gentle patter of rain on the shingled roof added coziness to the house while the girls waited for Mary and Barnabas to return with the wagon.
For the tenth time that day, Lizzie wandered into the hat shop and fussed with her displays, turning a hat on a stand one way then moving it back to its original spot. She checked her inventory for the third time. Nothing had changed. She picked up one of the bag of beads Heather Flower had brought her and several of the glass vials Jeremy kept her and Doctor Smith supplied with, and took them to the kitchen. “We can sort these beads, if you girls don't mind.”
They chattered as they admired the different shapes and colors, and Hannah told the younger girls what she remembered of Heather Flower's and Dirk's wedding. What turns life takes, thought Lizzie. Her nephew, so brokenhearted when Anna Budd married Charles Tucker, then so gallant when Heather Flower married that Dutchman, Dirk Van Buren, on the very day Benjamin was to wed her. Now Benjamin was married to Anna, after poor Charles Tucker died of a heart ailment.
“Uncle Jeremy was here when they got married,” she heard Hannah say. “He officiated because he was a ship captain.”
Lizzie smiled. “Yes, he was. And such a good man.”
They heard the clop of Stargazer's hoofs, and Lizzie went to open the door to Mary and Barnabas. They came in shaking the wetness from their cloaks and went to warm themselves in the kitchen before taking the girls on the short ride home.
Lizzie loaded several baskets with tarts and crocks of apple
butter. “I'll bring more to you on the morrow, Mary, but these you can put in the bakeshop first thing in the morning.”
“Oh my, they look delicious!” She looked around the table at her daughters. “You have all been busy today.”
Their faces lit up as Mary and Lizzie gushed over their abilities in the kitchen. But it caused her to recall Mary's youthful attempts at the womanly arts of hearth and home. Lizzie had been patient as she attempted to teach her, but it was truly Barnabas who brought out the domestic side of Mary. The memory of the long ago years growing up in Mowsley rushed in and the shock of learning that Jeremy planned a voyage to the New World and intended to take Mary and Barnabas with him.
Mary nudged her. “Not to change the subject, dear sister, but you must come out to the wagon with us to see the stone we have bought for Jeremy. 'Tis beautiful. John Corey says he can carve a proper epitaph on it. Barney is going to write it.” Her eyes became moist as she spoke, her throat suddenly constricted, and she turned into Barnabas's arms.
“Yes, of course.” Lizzie turned to her nieces. “Get your coats on girls, and help us carry these out to the wagon.”
As they prepared to go outside, Patience came down the staircase and paused just before the landing. “Mary? I thought I heard you.”
Mary rushed to her. “I didn't want to disturb you. Are you all right?”
Her blond hair hung loose about her shoulders and she pulled it around to the side, twisting it like rope. “Yes. I think. Did I hear you say you bought a stone for Jeremy?”
“Yes, dear. Reverend Youngs will say a sermon for him on Sunday, and then we'll gather in the cemetery in a few weeks when the stone is ready and have a small remembrance service.”
Lizzie could sense the tension, like friction just before a lightning strike.
“How can you do that? You don't know he's dead!” The words pounced from Patience and everyone stood silent, mouths agape.
Mary looked injured, and Barnabas stepped up and wrapped an arm about his wife's shoulder. “Patience, we all grieve. Prithee, do not make this more difficult. We must bring some closure to Jeremy's life. We owe him that, do we not?”
She lowered herself to the stair step and buried her face in her robe. Lizzie and Mary rushed to her and pulled her into their arms. “Oh, dearest. We all feel the same way you do. Truly we do.” Mary looked at her sister. “Right, Lizzie?” She pressed her cheek to Patience's. “But the water has turned up nothing but wreckage and some of the bodies. Most of the crew is simply swallowed by the sea, and we must face that with courage.”
Barnabas gathered the girls by the door, picking up Mercy as she began to whimper.
Lizzie drew Patience closer. “I shall take her back to her room, Mary. You go with Barnabas and the girls. I'll stay here tonight and come to you on the morrow. Patience just needs time. Let me take care of her.”
Mary reluctantly left her friends as she followed Barnabas and her daughters out the door.
Lizzie turned to Patience, and with a gentle hug they climbed the stairs. She tucked her friend under a thick quilt. The room was already dark, with no candle lit. Lizzie sank into a chair, and in a moment she drifted into fitful dreams.
Patience lay awake, fingering the edge of her quilt. Her eyes were wide as if they were propped open by lashes stiff with
dried tears, and sleep would not come. Nor did she want it to. She needed to think of a way to find Jeremy. He could not be dead. She would know it if he were. And even if she could not be certain, she would not give up on him. No, never. She could not.
Rebecca DeMarino
is the author of
A Place in
His Heart
, a historical romance novel inspired by her ninth great-grandparents, Barnabas and Mary Horton. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband. Learn more at
www.rebeccademarino.com
.
