To Follow Her Heart Page 6

  Sweat dribbled down her cheek, and she swiped at it with her sleeve. She held the cloth up to the light, and it was spotless. Each piece wrung tight, she bundled the twisted laundry and gathered it up, pushing the kitchen door with her hip.

  Outside, the sun warmed her back. She shook out a jumper and draped it carefully over a rosebush. She pricked her finger, and as she drew it back to inspect the pinpoint of blood, the familiar suntanned hand of Jeremy closed over hers and brought it to his lips.

  “You should be more careful when you hang your wash. Or choose a different bush.”

  “Are you speaking of my laundry or my heart?” She felt a warmth wash over her cheeks and could not suppress a giggle. She gathered her wits and added, “Do not come here just to say farewell, Captain.”

  He stepped closer and brought her into his arms. “I must leave, but I could not go without seeing you once more. Wait for me, Patience, and I will return to life here in Southold.”

  “Southold and me? Will we marry?”

  “Yes, I want that very much, my love. Please say you will wait for me.”

  He kissed her, and her heart took flight like a flock of swallows. The church bell rang, and she squeezed his hands. Each clang beckoned the troops to gather. She wanted with every fiber to hold on to him, but he would go. This time she could let him, with his promise to marry her when he returned. “Yes, Jeremy. Oh yes, I shall wait for you.”

  “It is said we shall capture the city quickly. I pray that is true and I shall return soon.”

  She took a deep breath and stepped back. “Then go with my love and hurry back to me.” Tears gathered, and she blinked to keep them from falling. She watched him walk away. Her heart throbbed as she returned to her pile of wet clothes. She’d keep busy. Tomorrow would be Sunday, and she would be surrounded by her friends. Many of them would have husbands, brothers, or sons who were in the militia, and they would have one another to hold in prayer. Poor Mary Youngs had just given birth to baby Martha, and Jeremy had said Johnny would be going, too. Guilt nipped at her like a hungry puppy, and she scolded herself for being selfish. There were women here who endured far more than she.

  The island would be better off under English control, and she knew people like Dirk and Heather Flower would welcome the change. There were many others who would welcome it, too, and be there to support the horse troop when they arrived.

  She smoothed the last gown over a bayberry bush and dried her hands on her apron. When she went back inside, she found Lizzie at work in the hat shop, busy stitching a brim to the crown of a straw hat. She sat down opposite her, picked up a pink ribbon, and began twisting and turning until a rose emerged. She’d become quite good at making fabric flowers for Lizzie’s creations.

  “Mary was worried about you, Patience, but I see you have taken the news well that Jeremy shall ride with the horse troop. Quite a shock, was it not, to have him come home? And another to find he would leave us again so quickly.”

  She laid the rose in a box and picked up some soft yellow netting. She folded the fabric into daisy petals. “I was almost overcome with grief, but then I remembered all of the women here who will have their men gone, and my own sorrow seemed self-indulgent. We’ll all be together tomorrow at church, and I imagine Mary’s group on Wednesday shall be overflowing. We’ll make it through somehow, won’t we, Lizzie? And as Jeremy said, God willing, the men shall return soon.”

  Lizzie paused with her needle halfway through the seam. “Yes, we shall. You have a good perspective, my dear, and I wonder if you have told me everything.” Her violet eyes sparkled.

  Patience’s pursed lips slowly spread into a grin. “I should wait and tell you and Mary together.” She enjoyed Lizzie’s look for but a moment and then added, “But I won’t. Lizzie, Jeremy said we would be married when he returns.” Her grin blossomed into an even fuller smile, her joy lit like a sparkler.

  Lizzie leapt to her feet, the hat and needle falling to the table. She rushed around and grabbed Patience in a hug. “Why, that is wonderful! How could you sit there chatting with me and not tell me first off?”

  “It—it feels so very much like a dream. So unreal. It’s very strange to even say the words.” She shook her head. “Now, we must not waste a minute in going to Mary and sharing my news with her, too. She shall be upset with me if we don’t. I’ll go change my gown.” She rushed to the stairs, hair tumbling down her back. She pulled the comb from her hair and gathered the loose tresses in one fluid motion, without missing a step. Never had she felt so sure on her feet.

  She skipped back down the stairs, tying the pink ribbon lace on her bodice. She checked her hair once more in the looking glass, then turned to Lizzie. “I think I am ready.”

  Lizzie’s laugh sounded like a chime tinkling in the wind. “I see. I am so glad to have my old friend back. Mary and I did not know what to do with you.” The two went out the door arm in arm.

  They chattered all the way to the Horton house, pausing to sniff the cinnamon that wafted from the kitchen as they approached. Mary opened the door before they knocked. “I heard you halfway down the lane.” She smiled and gave each woman a kiss on the cheek as they entered. “Patience, are you all right? I’m sure it’s shaken you as much as it did us to have Jeremy come back, and then off he went.”

  Patience took Mary’s hands and squeezed them. “Yes, a shock, but I’m getting used to it.”

  “You are?”

  “To be sure, only a bit. Mary, I have something to tell you.”

  Her friends exchanged a look. Mary started to say something, then looked at Patience. “Yes? I see Lizzie knows, so please—tell me now.”

  “Jeremy. He asked me to marry him.”

  Mary’s eyes twinkled, and she squeezed Patience’s hands in return as she danced in a bobbing fashion. “He did? He did? I knew he would. How did he ask you? Tell me every word. Oh, your mother would be so happy.”

  Patience laughed through tears. “Truth be known, I think I brought up marriage. But in the end, it does not matter, does it? He was thinking it, if not saying it.”

  “You are right. And now we must pray without ceasing that the men return safe. Come, follow me to the kitchen. I’ve baked some new bread, almost like cake. You must taste it and tell me what you think.”

  Lizzie and Patience settled around the oak table with mugs of lemon thyme tea and Mary’s sweet bread swirled with cinnamon. They could hear the Horton girls out the back window, chasing each other. Mary looked out and waved to Misha and Sarah, who watched the little ones. Satisfied all was well, she sat next to Patience, her eyes brimming with excitement. “So we have a wedding to plan.”

  For the first time since she’d told Lizzie, Patience’s exuberance diminished. “I want Jeremy to be here. I want him to know all of our plans, to help me every step of the way.”

  Lizzie looked at Mary. “Oh.” She turned to Patience. “Is there a particular reason you feel this way?”

  She nodded. “We are both older, and neither of us have our parents anymore. I just think I do not want to act like a silly young bride all in a swoon over marrying her shining knight.” She took a sip of tea and let the warm liquid soothe her senses. “I’ve lived on my own a long time, made my own decisions. It’s my wish that Jeremy will respect that and always take my desires into consideration in all of our decisions. I want to do the same for him, beginning with the wedding plans. But ’tis more than that. I need him home from this battle before I can believe our marriage really will happen.”

  Both sisters grabbed her hands and held tightly. Lizzie spoke up first. “It will, Patience, truly. Jeremy shall be all right. He knows how to take care of himself. We should have believed you when we thought he’d drowned. We all need to have faith.”

  “That’s right, dear. We need to have faith like you showed to us when The Swallow sank.”

  Patience nodded. “The faith of a mustard seed. That’s what it is. You both make me so grateful for friends like you. Mary, you kn
ow you will have a full house come Wednesday. Every woman in the town shows up when the men are gone.”

  “I know, but ’tis a good thing. I remember all those years it was you and Lizzie and Winnie. I wanted to give assistance to ladies who found it difficult to cope—we were all in this wild, raw land together. But mostly it was the four of us. I suppose we did not cope as well as the other ladies.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “No, I think they enjoyed gossip more than something constructive. They can meet over a fence for that.”

  Patience nodded. “We all like a little of that from time to time, but we’ve been able to solve some real problems here in your home, Mary. I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

  “I think that is why God put us here. And we’ve been blessed by friends like you. And now a wedding. You may not be a swooning bride, but the wedding shall be beautiful, Patience. Shall it not, Lizzie?”

  “Oh, it shall. I can see the celebration now. All of the others we have planned were but practice for this one. It shall be magnificent.”

  “Pinch me, for this seems unreal.” She wanted to believe her marriage would happen. It didn’t have to be the most beautiful wedding the good people of Southold had ever beheld. She just wanted Jeremy. To be his wife. Forever and ever.

  9

  August 27, 1664

  Jeremy went directly to the front of the church, joining Barnabas and Reverend Youngs at the pulpit. Benjamin sat at the clerk’s table, and Joshua Horton, now a lieutenant in the militia, arrived with Captain Johnny Youngs. They sat with Benjamin and waited for the rest of the troop to fill the pews.

  At length, the sanctuary was filled, and the reverend cleared his throat before calling the room to order. “Gentlemen, we are sent today on a mission of extraordinary importance in the history of Long Island. Captain Horton has been dispatched by Governor Winthrop to facilitate the Southold Militia in an attack against New Amsterdam. Our ground forces are to support the British naval ships that are gathering in the sound as we speak.”

  A murmur rippled through the troop, but they settled to listen as Jeremy unrolled a large map of the island and laid out the course of action.

  When all questions were thoroughly answered, Johnny stood to close the meeting. “We’ve all known our militia could be called up at a moment’s notice and we can be proud to say we are ready. You all have one hour to say your goodbyes to your families, and then you are to report to the livery. We’ll mount and ride out at that time. If that is understood, you are dismissed.”

  Everyone began to mill about, keeping their comments low under their breath. As they dispersed to their homes, Jeremy started for Patience’s house. She would roll her eyes, he was certain, and tell him he’d said goodbye already and once was enough. But he’d not expected another chance.

  He stepped out of the church, musket in hand, into the sunlight. There she stood, with a blush to her cheeks and her eyes riveted to the ground. Could it be she was shy to seek him out? “Patience, I was just coming to look for you. We have an hour before I must meet the troop at the livery.”

  Her dark lashes fluttered as she looked everywhere except at him. “I have something for you. ’Tis not much, but a remembrance of me.” She held out a lock of her blond hair, tied with a curled pink ribbon. Her wide eyes darted to his as he took the gift.

  A pang jabbed at his heart, and his throat constricted as he began to speak. “I . . . I will hold this close to my heart and treasure it always. I wish I had something to give you, but all I have is my word that I will return.”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Hush. Do not even think that is not enough. That is what I cling to—the hope you shall return to me safely. ’Tis all I need.”

  “Would you walk with me along the village green to the livery?”

  “I should be delighted, Captain Horton.”

  She slipped her arm in his, and they walked in silence, with no sense of urgency. By the time they arrived at the livery, horses had been saddled and fit with the required supplies. The men were gathering, muskets at the ready and bedrolls wrapped around provisions of biscuits and dried venison.

  Lizzie, Mary, and Barnabas were there to say goodbye to Benjamin, Joshua, and Caleb. Jonathan made it clear that he was old enough to go fight at sixteen, but Mary insisted—and Barnabas agreed—that their youngest boy would remain home. It was only right that a family should not be in jeopardy of losing all their sons to battle. Jonathan could train with the reserve troop but would not be sent to the battlefield.

  Mary’s hazel eyes danced as she took Jeremy’s arm. He didn’t have to guess that she’d been told of his proposal.

  “You must return at your first opportunity. Don’t be the hero, just come home. I hear there’s a wedding taking place when you get back, and you mustn’t keep us waiting.”

  “You’ve found me out. Of course I will be returning posthaste, but not without all of our troops. You must take good care of her. For me. Will you?”

  “I have all of these years, and I’m not about to stop.” She looked at Patience, who remained quiet at his side. “We look out for each other, do we not?”

  “We do. Always.” Patience’s blue eyes brimmed with tears. “Look at me. I wasn’t going to cry today.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket.

  Jeremy touched her chin and drew it up. “Save your tears for ones of joy when the men come home.” He bent to kiss her lips. “Until I return, my love.” He bowed to Mary and Lizzie and shook Barnabas’s hand before the man pulled him into a Horton bear hug and clapped him hard on the back.

  Amidst tears and handkerchiefs, Jeremy gave the final salute as Johnny and his men filed down the road behind him. The ride was rough to Wading Creek, and the troop made camp quickly to relax under the stars before heading to Flushing and the start of battle. In his bedroll, Jeremy pulled the ringlet of blond hair from his chest pocket and tucked it between the pages of his Bible. He went to sleep dreaming of a girl—a woman—whose yellow hair smelled of honeysuckle and crisp starch.

  The ride into Flushing was fast, and they delivered the news quickly. Governor Stuyvesant must surrender to the British forces or face a bloody battle. Those who chose to support the takeover would be allowed to sign a petition and remain in their homes. Those who did not must face consequences if war broke out.

  As Johnny and Benjamin delivered the message, Jeremy sought out Dirk Van Buren and his wife, Heather Flower. Dirk had left his post as a Dutch lieutenant when he and Heather Flower married. Over the years, he’d become sympathetic to the English and involved with the people of Southold. Jeremy considered him one of his closest friends.

  He rode to the Van Buren farm on the outskirts of Flushing. The house itself was set back from the public road and had a long, private lane. Heather Flower opened the door before he could dismount from his tall gelding, and he grinned at her deerskin tunic, bedecked with beads and feathers. She had not forgotten who she was or the ways of her people, even as she adopted her husband’s way of life. The stark elegance of their home, immaculate and beautiful in its simplicity, was much admired by her Dutch neighbors he’d heard tell.

  “Heather Flower, so good to see you.” He took her shaking hands and pressed his lips to them in greeting.

  “Aqui, friend. Is it truly you? We were told you were dead and with our Father in the heavens. I fear I see the ghost of you.”

  A fluffy gray wolf-dog with inquisitive blue eyes stood close to her, and Jeremy knelt and stretched his fingers in greeting. The pup sniffed, then nuzzled his hand, and Jeremy grinned up at Heather Flower. “Aye, it is me. But I was the only one to survive the wreck of The Swallow. My crew, all was lost.”

  “I am so sorry, Jeremy. Dirk is too, but he will be so thankful to see you live.” She tugged at his arm to bring him inside and led him to a walnut table, decorated with a small square of delicate embroidery and a tall vase filled with sunflowers in the center. “I must give you some tea while we wait for Dirk. He returns ever
y day at this time for dinner. I’ve made a rabbit stew, and you must eat with us.”

  He watched her dip water from the large pot at the back of the fireplace into two mugs. She had not aged in the least, her glossy black hair in a braid down her back, her lips in a pout even while her tall figure was confident and elegant. She picked clumps of bright green sage from a little bowl sitting on the window sash and dunked them in. With silver shears, she shaved chunks from a sugarloaf and stirred them into the steaming tea. She took the lid off the Dutch oven and stirred the stew before she brought the cups to the table.

  He stood as she took a chair opposite him, and then they sat together, chatting about Southold and Montauk and the life she’d left behind when she married Dirk. In a funny twist in the path of life, Jeremy had wed them, and he’d been honored to do it. She was the female sachem of the Montauks now, but in name only. Her parents were dead, and her brother, too. The numbers of her tribe had dwindled from illness, and only a few remained on the tip of the south fork of the island.

  “My friend, I want to hear about the shipwreck. I want to hear how you live.”

  Jeremy grinned. “It’s a long story, and I think it should wait for Dirk.” No sooner had he said that than the door swung open and Dirk stood, his mouth agape, his boots glued to the floor.

  “Hallo! How is this? Jeremy—we thought you dead. It is you in the flesh, ja?”

  Jeremy jumped from his chair and closed the distance to the door in four long strides. “Of course—Dirk, how are you, my friend?” He clapped him on the back, and the two embraced in a bear hug. The only kind of hug the Horton clan knew.

  “I have never been better since I married Heather Flower and left the cavalry. I enjoy scouting much more as a civilian.” He patted his wife’s hand and sniffed the air. “Hmm, rabbit, and it smells wonderful.” He looked at Jeremy. “Heather Flower has made you agree to dinner, ja?”

  “Oh yes, of course. I’ve much to tell you, but I am famished. If it’s ready, I would be the first to say ‘let’s eat.’”