Chapter 16
sixteen
I was a shoemaker and got my living by labor.
When this rebellion came on, I saw some of my neighbors got into Commission; they were no better than myself.
I was very ambitious. And did not like to see these men above me.
These, sir, are my only motives of entering into the service; as to the dispute between Great Britain and the Colonies, I know nothing of it.
Lieutenant William Scott of the Continental Army
Supper was enlivened by Hanna and Aaron. As plates were scraped clean and dishes emptied, Mae sensed her brother and his wife had something to share. So far, Coralie had been less than forthcoming about her plans. Had she changed her mind about telling them?
“We’ve glad news and thought we’d tell the two aunts first,” Aaron said, smiling at Hanna. “Come harvesttime we shall have the first arrow in our quiver, as Scripture says.”
Mae felt her anxious mood give way. “Truly?” To be an aunt. To have a little one about. Her own womanly instincts surged like the Passaic in spring. “I’m overjoyed for you both—for our family.” She looked at Hanna. “How are you feeling?”
“Topsy-turvy.” Still, Hanna’s reassuring smile said all was well. “Aaron often insists I rest when needed, or even be abed when I’m at my worst.”
“We must celebrate,” Coralie said, raising her glass of cider. “Mrs. Hurst has made a splendid pudding.”
As their housekeeper brought in dessert, Mae heard the front door open and shut.
James? She’d discarded any hope Rhys would be with him.
As expected, Captain Sperry accompanied him instead.
With wind-chapped, reddened faces, the men joined them at the table, offering congratulations at the happy news.
“You’ve come from Morristown?” Aaron asked.
“Aye.” James sat down in his usual place. “Tomorrow is the Sabbath, so we’ve no drill or other duties.”
Watching them, Mae sensed something amiss, though neither officer said another word. The men devoted their attention to their supper plates as talk turned to other matters.
“Pastor Heath is holding an outdoor service if the weather doesn’t worsen,” Aaron told them. “I hope you both can join us.”
“General Washington himself might attend,” Captain Sperry said between bites.
A hush fell over the dining room.
Mae grew more uneasy, wearying of the ongoing suspense.
“He’s greatly indebted to Chatham and the benevolence shown to his men while here,” James said as he poured more cider. “I sense he wants to express his thanks in person.”
Was the army preparing to march? Mae pushed down her melancholy. “Speaking of benevolence, we’ve another wagonload of goods to be delivered when there’s time.”
“Monday morning, then, if the weather holds,” James replied.
“We’ve been supplying a number of rheumatism remedies, which usually indicates a turn in the weather.” Aaron’s words weren’t entirely in jest. Old, aching bones often foretold conditions when nothing else did.
“Just when we began to hope for spring.” Hanna put a hand to her waist and made a face. “I’m afraid the babe is protesting my supper.”
“Perhaps you should lie down,” Aaron said in concern.
“I’ll brew some mint tea,” Mae offered, disappearing to the kitchen while Hanna and Aaron continued to the parlor.
As she steeped the fragrant tea, Mae counted the days till the ball—unless the Continental Army began to move again. Already she missed Rhys. How would it be once a greater distance separated them—perhaps once and for all?
By morning, Sabbath service was the furthest thing from their minds.
A northeaster had swept in during the night, leaving an ice-edged blanket of snow, immobilizing all of Chatham and beyond, and surely sending spring back to wherever it came from.
Leaning into the windowsill of her bedchamber, her warm breath fogging the icy pane, Mae wondered just how cold Lowantica Valley was.
As she dressed in the frigid dawn, she counted her immediate blessings. Quilted petticoats. Salt. Freshly milled flour. Firewood. From the kitchen below came the aroma of coffee and baking bread. Never mind that the eggs and milk would be frozen. They were snug, well-fed, and beneath a sturdy roof.
Mae let go of her disappointment at not seeing General Washington for the first time as the service was canceled. Any plans to decamp would also be delayed with the weather.
In the parlor where a robust fire was lit, she returned to sewing, which had become such a satisfying part of her days, and recalled Rhys’s pleasure at finding her initials sewn into the hem of his shirts with indigo thread. What would fill the absence when her efforts weren’t needed anymore?
As the Sabbath afternoon stretched long, Coralie played the spinet, the bright tones resonating to the rafters. After several cups of independence tea—though Mae didn’t dare call it that to Coralie—they both planned to write letters, but the ink had frozen in the inkwells.
“I suppose winters in the New York frontier are just as frigid as here, if not more so,” Coralie mused, cradling her cup in her hands. “Though Jon never complains when he does write from along the Hudson River.”
Again, Mae wondered just where Lieutenant Gibbs was in so vast a territory. “If you do marry and settle in New York, you might see Jon far more.”
“How odd to think there may even be another infant we’ve not met by now. I must say, Jon and Joanna seem as fertile as their fields.”
They laughed, and Mae felt some of the tension between them ebb. “I do wonder where we’ll all settle once the war ends.”
“Perhaps you’ll remain right here. Pastor Heath recently escorted you home. A fortuitous match, as Father hoped.”
Fortuitous and far-fetched. But Mae said nothing.
Coralie regarded her intently. “For a time I worried you might succumb to General Harlow’s attentions. I breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped billeting here.”
Mae nearly bit her tongue in two. “Why do you find him so disagreeable?”
“Is it not obvious?” Coralie stared back at her in surprise. “He’s but a farmer, a marksman. You’re more gently bred.”
“Farming is an honorable pursuit,” Mae said. “Chatham is surrounded by respectable, prosperous farmers. Jon is even one.”
Coralie rolled her eyes. “Rebel farmers, you mean.”
“So? As for the one you loathe, the man is a general.”
“But not a learned man like Father.”
“General Harlow is even more admirable given he’s self-taught. He owns a great many books.” Mae hated that she had to defend him. Coralie would never be convinced. “General Washington is much the same.”
“General Harlow is also of questionable lineage.”
It was Mae’s turn for eye-rolling. “His father is of Quaker stock, his mother Welsh. What’s so brow raising about that? Our own ancestry is quite scandalous if you recall.” She felt an almost venomous pleasure mentioning it. “Have you forgotten our mooncussers?”
Coralie recoiled. “What means you?”
“Mama’s family who cursed the moon for foiling their plundering, as they could only steal on cloudy nights?
” Mae had always found their family history fascinating if dark.
Early on, their colonial kin had been naught but rogues and thieves and worse, lining up and hanging lanterns from their saddles along the Jersey shore to lure unsuspecting ships to their doom.
Coralie closed her eyes in a theatrical moment. “Thankfully we descend more recently from a respected pastor, not water bandits and land pirates.”
“Besides, being a pastor’s wife is not for the fainthearted. Mama was held to an impossibly high standard, as if people expected her to walk on water.”
Coralie held fast to her dislike. “You would be a farmer’s wife instead.”
“I would be the wife of the man I love no matter his occupation, so long as it’s honorable.” Mae didn’t miss Coralie’s grunt of disapproval. “I don’t care for Pastor Heath in that way.”
“Many marry for practicality.”
“Speaking of practicalities, what will your lieutenant do once there’s no longer a war to wage?”
Coralie looked startled as if she’d thought no further than his epaulets.
“If he is awarded land by the British, he doesn’t seem the sort to farm,” Mae continued. “And New York is largely frontier, Jon told us, if you settle outside of the city.”
“Perhaps we could lease the land he’s to be awarded for his service and live in the nearest town. He could open a law office like his late father.” Coralie shrugged, clearly done with the matter. “We shall soon see.”