To Follow Her Heart Read online

  “Yes. It seems as New Amsterdam is assimilated into an English colony, King Charles intends the whole of Long Island to fall under the jurisdiction of New Amsterdam. We shall lose our place with New Haven.”

  Barnabas scraped the chair against the wood floor as he stood, his hand raking through his hair while he paced. “Then we shall object. That is not right. We haven’t a vote? We haven’t a say? Well, that is not acceptable.”

  “Now, settle down, Barnabas. This is more rumor at this point than fact.”

  Jeremy rubbed his chin. “What are the implications if this happens? Why is this not better than having the Dutch in control of the west end and Southold having to answer to New Haven?”

  Dirk leaned forward. “The Dutch left Southold alone. And New Haven does the same. They have ignored us almost from the start, for which we have been thankful.”

  “Southold, and every village on the east end, will be under the scrutiny of the Crown. That is not what we desire.” Barnabas sat back down.

  “And I repeat, it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Very well, but we will fight it. I will go home and write a letter to New Haven at once. Dirk, you should write one, as well. From the Dutch point of view.” Barnabas looked at Jeremy. “And you should, too. Use your influence with Governor Winthrop. Write him a letter. We have to do all in our power to put such notions to an end.”

  Jeremy nodded. “That I can do. But that reminds me. I had a message from Joshua Hobart. He will be here two days hence for a visit. I know this is not the ideal time, but I would like to suggest that we have a dinner in his honor. I would be volunteering you and Mary for that, Barnabas, but I think it is advantageous—especially in light of your news, Reverend Youngs. His father is quite good friends with Governor Winthrop, as well.”

  “Of course. Mary and I would be honored. We cannot let it interrupt the training, but certainly we can have a small feast and make sure he sees things our way. What is his business, though, if I might ask?”

  Jeremy arched an eyebrow. “Well, I am not sure. I think he’s on a mission to find a place where they need a minister. That won’t be Southold, now, will it, Reverend?” He grinned.

  “Not for a while yet, anyway. I intend to serve this congregation until the good Lord calls me home. As long as the people are willing to have me.”

  Barnabas stood again. “Hear, hear. Of course we will have you. If this Reverend Hobart desires to preach on Long Island, he shall have to inquire over at Easthampton. Thank you, John, for keeping us informed. Now, we have letters to write, meals to prepare.” He chortled and clapped Dirk and the reverend on their backs. Jeremy fell in with him as they crossed the road to the Horton house.

  “This Hobart chap is a scholar, you know. I think you will like him. Graduated Harvard.”

  “If he can help us retain our allegiance to New Haven, I will like him very much.”

  They circled around to the back entrance into the kitchen. Mary looked up from the pot she stirred as they entered. “Why, hello. You are just in time for a little stew, Jeremy. I know I need not ask if you are hungry.” She smiled at both men.

  “It smells good, and you know I would never turn down one of your meals, Mary.”

  Barnabas draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her near. “Two days hence, we shall have company for dinner, and he is someone who could prove to be important to the people of Southold. If I offer my services, will you prepare the meal? Reverend Youngs and his wife will be coming, as well as Dirk and Heather Flower. And of course, Jeremy and Patience.”

  Her face brightened. “That would be lovely. Shall we have a ham? Or perhaps I should roast a joint of beef? And we shall have pheasant.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “It will all be good no matter what you prepare.”

  “We will be in my study. We’ve a couple of letters to write. Call us when the stew is ready.”

  “Letters? What letters? You cannot be so mysterious with me and get away with it.”

  “You may read them when we are done, my sweet sister-in-law. But it is better for us to write them first, then discuss them with you over dinner.”

  Barnabas led the way down the hall. “To be sure.”

  Mary called after them, “When I send you back to rewrite them, you shall wish you had talked first.” Her giggle followed them into the study.

  Barnabas sat at his desk. “She may be right, you know.”

  “Aye, I am sure she is. We must not let her know it, though.” He looked around the room, so well appointed, and knew her hand was in it. Many of the pieces in the room she’d asked him to bring on his voyages from England and France. He ran his hand over the soft, worn leather of the chair he’d brought from Italy for Barnabas’s birthday, at Mary’s request.

  Barnabas proffered the chair with a wave of his hand. “Sit. You write a letter first to Governor Winthrop. We must make it clear to him we desire to remain under New Haven in all government matters.”

  Jeremy removed the cap from the ink bottle and dipped the quill in, stirring with the tip. “We need to state that this is just to inform him of our intentions, not that we anticipate a change. He disclosed the plan of attack to me in order to have the backing of our ground troop, but he did not come forth with the consequences of what he intended.”

  “He might not have known himself. We have all wanted the Dutch rule defeated, but to what end?” Barnabas walked over to the window and watched the orange and yellow oak leaves shiver in the breeze, droplets of water from the recent rain shedding from their surface. He clasped his hands behind his back. “State our concerns from a positive standpoint. That we rejoice in New Amsterdam for the Crown, but we expect little change on the north and south forks of Long Island.”

  Jeremy bent over his paper and let the words flow. He dotted an i and a period before he signed with a flourish: Your humble servant, Captain Jeremy Horton. “There. I think Mary shall be proud.”

  Barnabas looked over his shoulder and scrutinized the letter. “Very good.”

  Jeremy stood and swept his arm toward the seat. “It is all yours.” He watched his brother pick up the quill and dash off two letters in succession. One to the New Haven authorities and one to the King himself.

  “Well done.” He clapped Barnabas on the back, and they trotted down the hall, letters in hand, to find Mary. She was in the kitchen, ladling chunks of venison into bowls. She dipped the spoon back in the pot for extra gravy and bite-sized pieces of carrots and potatoes. Mercy sat at her place at the table, and Hannah, Sarah, and Mary brought bread, cheese, and crocks of butter to the table.

  Mary smiled at the men. “Barney, you may call Jonathan for supper. He is in the stable.”

  He set the letters on the sideboard and motioned Jeremy to sit. “I’ll fetch him.”

  Jeremy helped Mary place the steaming bowls of stew around the table before he took his seat.

  When everyone had gathered for the meal, they joined hands and Barnabas led them in prayer. He thanked the Lord for the good harvest that year, the food prepared, and the hands that cooked it.

  Jeremy listened as his brother asked for guidance in the coming days, for wisdom to meet the challenges before them. For change was here, and some was needed and welcomed, but not without difficulty laced with emotion. He added his hearty “Amen” to the prayer. “Someone once told me we must accept the things that cannot be changed but strive to change what we must. It seems that is where we are with this. As I see it, we have only one choice.”

  Barnabas paused as he brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth. “We wrote our letters, Mary, and when we’ve finished eating, we’d like you to read them.”

  “I should like that.” She smiled at her husband, then Jeremy. “I’m beyond curious.”

  Jonathan sat ramrod straight like his father and uncle. He set his spoon down. “Father, are your letters concerning our fight in New Amsterdam?”

  “Not so much the fight, son, but the aftermath. It is important that Sout
hold has a say in how the government is restructured, for it will be, without a doubt. We must not lose our voice.”

  Mary stirred Mercy’s stew and blew on the steam before she gave the spoon to her little girl.

  “There you are, my poppet. It’s not too hot.” She turned to Jeremy. “Patience and I shall be so happy when everything has settled and you may turn your thoughts to her and the wedding.”

  A pang of guilt played with his heart. He knew Patience waited on him to finish his business and get on with their life. But had they both not waited for each other a long while? Would a few more weeks matter? Not really, not with so much at stake for Southold and their future.

  After eating, the children set about their chores. Jonathan went out to bring in wood for the fireplace, and even Mercy helped her sisters clean the table and put away the dishes. Mary cut fat slices of apple pie for everyone and took bites of her piece while she pored over the letters.

  “You men are very bold, are you not? But I like it. You must show these to Reverend Youngs and send them off at once.” She glanced at them over her spectacles.

  “When did you start reading with spectacles, Mary?”

  “Oh, I’ve had them for years now. You just have not been around to see. I started using them after Mercy was born. Everything started falling apart then, I fear.”

  Jeremy stood and kissed her cheek and turned to bid good night to the children and Barnabas. “Well, I shall be much closer now. Keeping an eye on all of you.” The children shrieked their delight and ran to hug his legs as he inched toward the door.

  He turned to take in the warmth of the fire, the aroma that lingered from the fine meal, the children gathered ’round. He’d waited too long to have such a family with Patience. But he could be thankful for what they would share. And a passel of nieces and nephews would be among those things.

  14

  September 16, 1664

  A cool, wet wind lifted her hair and skirts as Patience walked the path to Mary’s orchard. It was the most established grove in Southold, with trees brought over years ago from her papa’s orchard, and Mary took joy in it. She shared their bounty with all in the village.

  Patience breathed in the damp air, happy for the change in season. The apple harvest was already in progress, but today she’d promised to help Mary and the children tidy the groves. After they removed the bad apples, the boys could come through quickly, filling baskets with the good ones. School would begin again soon, and she’d spend her days planning and teaching—and dreaming of her wedding.

  Mary helped Sarah out of a tree, small withered and wormy apples on the ground beneath. Patience waved and called, “Good morrow—I remember when Caleb and Joshua used to do this chore. Where is Jonathan? Does he not help?”

  Mary pushed at her sleeves. “He is off with Barney out in the woods by the sound. They took Thomas Mapes out with them to do a little surveying. Someday Barney might build another house out there.”

  “Oh! I did not know he had intentions of that sort. Is this new?”

  “It is, in a way. But I think he’s thought of doing this ever since John Budd left for Rye and gave Ben and Anna the house he built here. Barney would never leave Southold, but he rather likes the idea of leaving the old house to the next generation. Sooner rather than later.”

  “But what of the bakery?”

  “Why, it could stay right here, I would think.” Mercy ran by chasing Muffkin, and Mary raised her voice. “Now, don’t chase that mouser—he’s much too old for that.”

  They both watched as Mercy fell in a heap on the ground, tearful at the reprimand but rolling over with giggles as Muffkin came to investigate her condition and planted licks on her cheeks.

  Patience turned back to Mary. “I have not seen Jeremy for a few days now. I know he has much to occupy his time, though.”

  “He had a meeting with Reverend Youngs and Barney yesterday. Did Dirk tell you about it? He was there.”

  “Oh yes, he did. ’Tis troublesome about New Amsterdam. At first it seemed wonderful news. But truly it is so much more complicated.” How could they begin thinking of their life together when the recent events consumed the thoughts of the entire village? Her sigh gave her thoughts away. “Governor Winthrop told Jeremy that King Charles gave New Amsterdam to his brother months ago, even before he sent the warships. ’Tis why everyone worries that Southold will fall under the Duke of York’s realm rather than New Haven.”

  “Is that possible? I don’t know. But life goes on, Patience, and soon Jeremy will come to you. In fact, he brought us news yesterday that Reverend Hobart’s son, Joshua, is coming to Southold on the morrow. Barney asked me to prepare a meal for him, and I told Jeremy to invite you. I’m certain he will be stopping by today to ask you. Heather Flower and Dirk are invited too, of course.”

  “Really? That is delightful! How can I help you?”

  “Just come. Perhaps cut some flowers from your garden. You have the prettiest in all of Southold.”

  Patience looked at the sky, the clouds scuttling across like little ships. “I shall do that, if a storm doesn’t come through during the night and the petals all blow away.” Jeremy could be at her house right this instant, and here she was chatting away with Mary. She surveyed the orchard. “It looks rather fine here. Do you still need my help?”

  Mary’s giggle eased her guilt over abandoning her. “The children love this chore, and they were up before first light in anticipation. I appreciate that you offered, but truly I understand your need to go home and tend to your own chores. Even if that includes worrying over Jeremy.” Her hazel eyes shone green as she spoke.

  Patience grabbed her friend’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. You know how dear you are to me.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Now go. Do not tarry—Jeremy could be at your door as we speak.”

  Patience’s feet flew beneath her as she hurried to the road. Behind her she heard Mary call, “I did not say run—you shall fall” right before she started to tumble.

  Strong arms caught her, and she looked up into Jeremy’s gorgeous green eyes. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Are you all right? Did you twist your ankle?”

  He held her close, and all of the doubts aggrieving her mind released like fuzz from a dandelion blowing in the wind. “I’m fine. Mary said you might be coming to see me, and I thought I should be at home.”

  “I did go to your house, and Heather Flower said I’d find you at Mary’s. Would you like to go back to her house, or shall I walk you home?”

  She peered back toward the orchard and could see Mary had already turned back to the children. No doubt she’d seen Jeremy save her from her graceless fall and hoped they would spend some time together at last. “I rather think I’d like you to walk me home.”

  He opened the gate to her backyard, and they followed the path to the garden. They’d just settled on a bench when Mosh entered and curled himself at her feet. She bent and ran her fingers through his thick gray fur, and he thanked her by nuzzling her knee with a damp nose.

  “Oh, Mosh.” She lowered her face into his furry neck and pulled him partway to her lap. “I see why Heather Flower loves you so.” She looked up at Jeremy. “She shan’t be far behind him.”

  “Then I must tell you quickly.”

  She held her breath.

  “Joshua Hobart, a minister I met in Barbados, is coming to Southold tomorrow.”

  Her breath gave way to a laugh, and Mosh wiggled as if the laugh were for him. “I know. Mary told me. And we are to have dinner with him at the Hortons’.”

  “Yes, and did she also tell you that there are likely to be changes in the way we are governed because of the changes in New Amsterdam?” His earnest eyes searched hers.

  “No, Dirk told me that last night. I’ve caught up on all of the news, Jeremy. Why did you wait so long to come to see me?” She watched him as he studied a rose bloom. One drop of moisture still clung to the whorl of petals.

  “I
imagine because I thought the news would be upsetting to you. Not only must we prepare to defend Southold, but we must find a way to restructure that is acceptable to both our people and the Crown. It is very complicated, and I know that you long for everything to be resolved so that we may turn our thoughts to our wedding.”

  She stretched her finger to the flower and brushed the droplet away. “I may long for peace and security for Southold, but prithee, why must we wait for it all to be resolved? Why must we?” She could not look in his eyes as she asked the question. The fear that she would see his answer, stark and unadorned, kept her from it. Surely he would soften it with gentle words.

  “Patience, my love—”

  “Mosh! There you are.” Heather Flower came around the bend in the path. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were here, Jeremy. I’m sorry if I am intruding.”

  Jeremy stood. “Of course not. Please sit down with us.” He swept out his arm to the other bench.

  Was he relieved that Heather Flower had kept him from saying what he must? Her friend took the seat offered by Jeremy, and Mosh moved immediately to her side.

  Jeremy lowered himself next to Patience. She shook her head. “I know what you intended to say, but I can assure you I understand. You needn’t explain, but you must know I shall be waiting for you. I always have.” She looked into Heather Flower’s dark eyes. “’Tis all right. You have not interrupted. In truth, you came at just the right time.”

  “You are angry with me, Patience.” Jeremy picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’m so sorry. I should have come sooner.”

  Heather Flower rose. “Do not be afraid to talk to each other about matters of the heart as long as you use loving words meant to heal and not destroy. Neither angry words nor silence are good ways to communicate. Come, Mosh. These two must talk.” Her lips gave way to a small, pouty smile as she turned to follow the path back to the house.

  Patience looked up at Jeremy. “Of course, she is right. I should have let you finish. I’m not angry, I’m just a little sad, I suppose.”