Thirteen
By sundown the next day, Anna’s hands had become useless. She dropped two pins, tangled the blue ribbon, and nearly put on her apron inside out before Mercy took it from her with a sound of despair.
“Anna Turner, are you sure you are well? You look as though you might either faint or bite someone. It’s not because there’s still laundry to hang, is it? I’m sorry I got done with it so late.”
“That’s a wide range of possibilities,” Anna said still fumbling with the ribbon.
Mercy narrowed her eyes. “Something is happening.”
Anna looked at her friend and wished the world were different. She wanted to tell Mercy she was about to marry a man most people thought a British courier, that the locket had returned, and the folded paper hidden in it would be proof of a promise until the war ended. But secrets kept people alive.
Anna reached for Mercy’s hands. “Something good.”
Mercy searched her face and smiled. “Then I’m glad. Best wear the blue ribbon properly, or whatever good thing it is will take one look at you and lose confidence.”
Anna laughed.
Mercy tied the ribbon for her, then adjusted the cap over Anna’s hair. “There. You look less like a haunted napkin.”
“Thank you,” Anna said with a smile.
Mercy put a hand over her chest and stood straighter. “I am an excellent friend.”
“You are.”
Mercy’s smile faded into something gentler. “Be happy, Anna.”
Anna’s throat tightened. “I mean to try.”
“No. Be happy. It’s allowed, you know, even now.”
Without thinking, Anna hugged her.
Mrs. Pembroke appeared at the door. “Anna.”
Mercy stepped out of her embrace while Mrs. Pembroke looked Anna over. She gave one firm nod and turned. “Come with me.”
Anna followed Mrs. Pembroke through the servants’ hall toward the back of the house.
No candles burned near the windows or unnecessary lamps had been lit.
Mrs. Fenwick went to bed early with complaints about her feet, and Elias had been assigned the heroic task of being useless near the front of the house should anyone knock.
When Anna reached the garden door, her knees almost failed her. Nathaniel stood beneath the arbor.
He wore no uniform, of course. She’d seen him in a red coat only once when he first started coming to the house to meet with Captain Whitby.
But tonight, he wore a dark coat, worn boots, and a linen cravat tied with care.
There was a bruise near his jaw and a bandage around one hand, and his face was tired.
But when he saw her, everything in him seemed to quiet, as though he’d come home.
Anna pressed a hand to her middle.
Caleb Avery, the man Mrs. Pembroke told her about, stood beside him, hat in hand.
Near the arbor, an older man Anna didn’t know held a small prayer book close to his chest. The reverend, she realized.
He looked kind, yet grave, and not especially surprised to be marrying people in a garden under threat of arrest.
Mrs. Pembroke took Anna’s elbow and walked her forward.
Nathaniel waited, never taking his eyes off her. When she reached him, he bowed. Not as a courier or a man performing a role. But as himself. “Miss Turner,” he said softly.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Mr. Reed.”
His eyes searched hers. “Are you certain?”
Anna studied him. He was bruised, weary and alive. She thought of all the fear that might still come. All the miles duty might put between them. The thin walls, coded lines, hidden papers, and dangerous men that wouldn’t disappear simply because they spoke vows in a garden.
Anna smiled. “No. But I choose you.”
His breath hitched.
Caleb looked down, a smile on his face, and Mrs. Pembroke made a suspicious sound into her handkerchief.
The reverend opened his prayer book. “Then we shall begin.”
The ceremony was quiet. There were no flowers save the battered ones still clinging to Mrs. Pembroke’s garden. No music but the faint rustle of leaves and the distant sound of wheels passing along the road. No gathered family, feast or church bells.
Only the witnesses, a reverend’s steady voice, and Nathaniel’s hand wrapping around Anna’s in this precious, fragile moment.
“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife,” the reverend asked, “to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”
Nathaniel’s hand tightened around hers. “I will.”
Anna’s heart filled with joy.
The reverend turned to her. “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband?”
Anna gazed at Nathaniel. All her fear was still there. So was her answer. “I will.”
The vows followed, simple and ancient words spoken by countless men and women in safety and hope and ordinary times. And now by the two of them in a garden while war prowled the roads beyond the gate.
Nathaniel’s voice didn’t falter. Neither did hers.
When the reverend pronounced them man and wife, Anna felt the whole world shift beneath her feet.
Nothing visible changed. The garden remained dark, the roads dangerous. And the British still held the town. Major Ellis would continue to suspect everyone and their cat while Captain Whitby barked orders.
But Anna was no longer waiting for her life to begin after the war. She was Nathaniel’s wife, and he, her husband.
He lifted her hand, bowed over it, and this time, kissed it.
Anna closed her eyes. The kiss was brief. Reverent. And enough.
When she opened her eyes, Nathaniel was watching her with such tenderness, she forgot for one foolish heartbeat to be afraid.
Mrs. Pembroke cleared her throat. “Very good. Before the two of you dissolve entirely into sentiment, there is still the matter of the note.”
The reverend smiled and drew a small square of paper from his prayer book. “I have written it as agreed.”
He handed it to Mrs. Pembroke, who passed it to Anna. Her hands shook as she unfolded it. On one side, she read, This day, before God and these witnesses, Nathaniel Reed and Anna Turner have given themselves in holy matrimony, and are henceforth husband and wife.
Beneath the words were their names, written in the reverend’s careful hand. Below that, Caleb Avery had signed as witness. Mrs. Pembroke’s signature followed, bold and unmistakably impatient. And on the other side, in the smallest writing Anna had ever seen, came these words:
In a war of secrets and silent signals, we mistook one another for enemies yet remained steadfast in the cause of liberty and in the truth that led us to love. Anna Turner and Nathaniel Reed, Setauket, Long Island New York, October 3, 1778
Anna stared at it until the words ran together. Nathaniel’s hand covered hers. “May I?”
She nodded.
He took the paper, folded it once, then again, with the care of a man handling something more valuable than gold.
Mrs. Pembroke opened the black case. The locket lay inside. Anna’s breath caught as Nathaniel lifted it from the case and opened the first compartment.
Anna saw the words again.
In God We Trust.
Her eyes filled with tears.
He opened the second, hidden section. The paper that had once been there was gone. The errand completed, leaving the space empty, waiting.
Nathaniel looked at Anna. Together, they tucked the marriage note inside. It fit perfectly.
Anna let out a small, unsteady laugh. “Mrs. Pembroke will say that is because she planned it.”
“I did plan it,” Mrs. Pembroke said.
Nathaniel smiled, closed the locket and held it out to Anna. “It should stay with you.”
Anna shook her head. “What if they search me?”
“They will not,” Mrs. Pembroke said tersely.
Anna gaped at her.
Mrs. Pembroke sighed. “But because we do not arrange our lives according to my outrage alone, no. Not with you. Not yet.”
Caleb stepped forward. “I’ll see it safe.”
Nathaniel considered him, then looked at Anna. She understood.
The proof of their marriage had to be hidden just as the earlier message had been hidden. Not because their vows were weak, but because they mattered too much to be placed in careless hands.
Anna touched the locket once. “Until it is safe.”
Nathaniel covered her fingers with his. “Until it is safe.”
Caleb took the locket and tucked it inside his coat, and the garden seemed to breathe around them.
The reverend closed his prayer book. “I will keep the matter in confidence.”
“Thank you,” Nathaniel said.
The older man nodded. “May God keep you both.”
Mrs. Pembroke dabbed once at the corner of her eye, then scowled as if her handkerchief betrayed her. “Yes, yes. Very moving. Caleb, take the reverend by the west gate. Mr. Reed, you have five minutes. I dislike generosity, so don’t make me regret it.”
Caleb smiled, offered Anna a warm nod, and led the reverend toward the gate.
Mrs. Pembroke looked at Anna, followed by Nathaniel, and her expression softened. “Five minutes,” she repeated, then went inside.
For the first time, Anna and Nathaniel were alone as husband and wife. The thought nearly stole her breath.
Nathaniel turned to her. “Anna…”
The sound of her name in his voice was different. Sacred, somehow.
“Nathaniel,” she said.
He smiled, and the sight of it went straight through her. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he said. “My friends call me Nate.”
“I’ve said it in my head,” she confessed. “Though not the shortened version…”
“Have you?”
She heaved a sigh. “Usually when I was vexed with you.”
He laughed. “That seems fair.”
Anna giggled, and because she was his wife, stepped closer and placed her hands against his coat.
Nathaniel stilled and swallowed hard.
“Can you kiss me?” she whispered.
His answer was to cup her face with gentle hands and lower his mouth to hers.
It wasn’t a long kiss. It was, however, sweet and gentle. A promise made in silence to accompany the promises already spoken aloud.
When he drew back, Anna’s heart was too full for her chest.
“I love you,” he said. The words came low and steady, as if he’d carried them a long way and was grateful at last to set them in her hands.
Anna smiled through her tears. “I love you too.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I wanted to give you more than this.”
“You gave me yourself.”
He ran a hand down her back. The sensation soothing. “It may not be an easy life.”
Anna snuggled against him. “I know.”
“I might have to leave tonight.”
She drew back at his words and looked up at him. “I know that too.”
He gently brushed his thumb beneath her eye. “You are my wife.”
“And you, my husband.” The words steadied her. They didn’t erase the danger he could run into but were something stronger to stand on while facing it.
From inside the house, Mrs. Pembroke called, “Four minutes, and I am being gracious!”
Anna laughed against Nathaniel’s shoulder. He kissed her forehead. “I will come back to you.”
“You’d better. Mrs. Pembroke dislikes wasted arrangements.”
“So do I.” He took her hand and brought it once more to his lips. “Whatever name I use or road I take, I must enter as Captain Whitby’s courier. But remember this. I am yours.”
Anna squeezed his hand. “And I’m yours.”
He looked as though he wanted to say more, but footsteps sounded near the gate.
Caleb was returning.
Nathaniel released her slowly, kissing her at the last possible moment, then joined Caleb. At the gate, he looked back.
Anna stood beneath Mrs. Pembroke’s battered arbor with her hands folded before her. If she didn’t fold them, she might reach for him and never let go.
Nathaniel gave her one last look, placed a hand over his heart, then was gone.
Anna remained in the garden until Caleb returned to her side. “He’ll do all he can to come back,” the old cooper said.
“I know.”
Caleb smiled. “He’s a good man.”
Anna smiled. “I know that too.”
The old man’s gaze softened. “Then hold fast, Mrs. Reed.”
The name struck like sunlight. Mrs. Reed. Anna pressed a hand to her mouth to hold in her joy until she could bear the size of it.
Caleb chuckled, patted her shoulder, and went after Nathaniel.
Anna turned toward the house. Mrs. Pembroke stood in the garden doorway with a lamp in one hand. “Well?” she said. “Are you coming in, Mrs. Reed, or shall I have to explain to Mrs. Fenwick why my maid has taken root among the petunias?”
Anna laughed as she crossed the garden, entered the warm kitchen, and let Mrs. Pembroke close the door behind her.
Outside, the war continued. Inside, Anna carried peace.
The world might still know her as Anna Turner.
For now, it had to. But God knew, Nathaniel knew, and she knew.
And one day, when the war released its grip and the front door could open without fear, the locket would open too.
The folded note would be taken out, the truth would be spoken aloud, and no one would ever again call her anything but his wife.
Anna touched the blue ribbon at her throat, smiled, and picked up the basket of wet linens by the door. Even happy endings, it seemed, still had laundry.