Splash.
Cat screams.
Laughter.
I sat up in bed, confused and bewildered. I opened my blinds and saw three boys—one holding the rope that led down to the well—pulling the bucket up and down. I wondered if they were stealing water. I looked around my room. Silas wasn't sleeping at the foot of my bed, as usual. I looked out the window again. I spotted her, cramped in the small bucket! I saw her fall into the raging well water. I tore out of my room and rampaged down the stairs. I ran through the coffeehouse's crowded lobby and ran outside. "What are you three doing?" I shouted. The boys turned and the bucket dropped as the boy let go of the rope. I heard Silas scream. "Pull that bucket back up now," I ordered. The boy pulled it up. I grabbed Silas from the bucket and turned to the boys, "If you ever bother my cat or my home again, I will make sure the death penalty is assigned to you." The boys backed away slowly. "Now leave!" I shouted. They sprinted off. Trying to dry Silas's wet hair, I walked back into the coffeehouse. I heard Grandfather's laughter from the corner of the room. Eliza came out of the kitchen and told me Mother wanted me upstairs. I climbed the stairs, petting Silas, and headed into my mother's bedroom. She was sitting on her bed, striking her chair arm with her long bony finger.
"Mother."
My voice came out clammy and small. I'd never seen my mother so pale since Polly died. "Oh Matilda," my mother's voice said. I couldn't see her face. "I dreamt of something awful."
"What did you dream of?"
I went to sit down beside her but thought against it. Instead, I let the question hang in the air. "I dreamt of your father returning. He didn't really die, so the dream said, he just went away and he returned. It was lovely, we were all so happy to see him. And then he murdered us. All of us. He murdered you first, Matilda."
I dropped Silas, who landed on her feet and hissed at me. "Why did he do that, Mother?" I asked, "Did he tell you?" Mother shook her head. "Oh that's awful," I said, sitting down on the bed. "But I know the man I married—your father—would never do a thing like that," Mother said, "it was just a frightening dream." "I would imagine so," I said. We sat there for awhile, not talking. That is until Grandfather came in. He told me a boy by the name of Mr. Nathaniel Benson was waiting in the coffeehouse lobby. "Sergeant Benson's grandson, eh?" Grandfather said as we walked down the stairs together. I looked at him and he returned a look of curiosity back at me. "Grandfather," I scolded, "Nathaniel is nothing but a friend. Nothing but a friend." I repeated myself diligently. Grandfather smirked as we approached Nathaniel. He smiled at me and I curtsied. He tipped his hat politely. "How are you today, Miss Cook?" he asked. "I'm fine and you, Mr. Benson?" I asked as we walked out of the coffeehouse and into crowded High Street. "Better than ever," he said, smiling. "And why is that, Nathaniel?" I asked curiously. When we were out of earshot of our parents, we talked in regular terms to each other. "Oh nothing."
His voice cracked like it always did when he was lying. "Nathaniel…"
I made sure my voice was increasingly stern. "Look, Mattie," said Nathaniel, "all I've got to say is that Mr. Peale won't be very happy if he doesn't see me painting on the deck so I've got to make this quick. Let me tell you one thing, Mattie. When fever strikes again this year, I'll get caught. But you won't." He sprinted off, leaving me speechless in High Street. I walked back into the coffeehouse and felt Grandfather's eyes on me. I walked up the steps and into my room. I shut my door and carefully stepped over Silas before sitting on my bed. Silas jumped up to meet me and I petted her gently. What did Nathaniel mean about fever? That had been years ago. It was what Polly had died from. Grandfather, Mother, Nathanial, and I—we'd all escaped. Mrs. Peale and their two boys hadn't but Mr. Peale had. Nathanial told me he lived in sorrow and was very anti-social now that his family was gone. I stroked Silas as I thought about Nathanial's words.
"I'll get caught. But you won't."
Why would fever strike again? Why would he get caught and not me? How did he know this? A shiver trickled down my spine.
The next day came quickly. I was walking to the market and, in order to get to the market quicker, you have to walk down High Street. Well I went down there and I spotted something on the ground. It was a pack. I picked it up and untied the string. Inside were ten shillings! I was so amazed; I ran to the market and ran to Mrs. Avondale's store. I brushed past everyone in line and dumped ten shillings onto the counter. Mrs. Avondale looked suspicious but took them and asked what I wanted. I told her I wanted a candy bar, the dark chocolate one. She grabbed it from the shelf and gave me three shillings back. I put them in my pocket, took the candy bar, and ran out into the street.
After buying Mother's goods, I headed back to the coffeehouse, still eating my dark chocolate candy bar. When I got the coffeehouse, all of the chocolate was in my stomach and I was full to the brim. I entered and saw Eliza wiping down the tables. The coffeehouse was closed for the evening. "Go count the money," Eliza told me, "Quickly. Before your mother realizes you've been gone for so long." I nodded and ran to the register. I opened it and began to count the money. Grandfather had taught me how to count every bit of money—liras from Italy, francs from France, pounds from Britain, pence from Massachusetts, and shillings from Virginia. I dumped the three shillings I had left into the shilling pile. I counted up the shillings. We had twenty-two shillings, enough to buy me ten candy bars and get two shillings back in change. I counted up the pence. We had forty-three of those, enough to get me forty candy bars and one pence left in change. I counted up the liras.