Rebuilding
Fresh Water
Benjamin Martin looked up at his newly rebuilt home with pride. He stood beside his family and his former men. He looked at his house with a mixture of pride, sadness and happiness. It was his house, and what the men had done for him had meant the world to him. But it wasn't the house Gabriel had first taken his steps in. It wasn't the house he and Elizabeth had lived in for all those years before her death. It wasn't the house Thomas had set up toy soldiers in. It wasn't the house Susan had been born in. It was a new house. A house which his new little one, Rose, would live in and take her first steps in. It wasn't the same house, but then again, was ANYTHING the same anymore? It was time to start over. It looked so much like his original house, but yet he could tell it apart in an instant.
Just like his old house, it was a traditional four-over-four, and was painted like the old one; painted white with dark shutters and a grey shake roof. It was surrounded on three sides by a very large porch, just like the other one. It was in the same location and offered the same commanding view of Fresh Water plantation. It was almost the same yet it was so different. The rooms were built in the same place at the last one, as Martin and his family had remembered the lay out of the house to complete perfection. They had bought similar furniture and put it in the places where the old furniture had been. It was so similar yet so different. He looked over it once more and smiled. Even though it was different, the house on the whole still meant a lot to him. He looked over to his men and smiled. "It looks great. Thank you," He looked to each of them. He hoped that some day he could return the favor. Then he thought about the Pembroke, town that Anne Howard and her family had lived in. Dan Scott and several others had come from that town. It was THEIR home. Perhaps he could help them rebuild Pembroke as they had helped him rebuild his house.
"You must all be hungry. We'll go in side and make a special dinner for all of you. And thank you," Charlotte smiled warmly at the men and went in side with Susan and Margaret, William and Samuel decided to come in and see what they could do to help.
"A special dinner from Charlotte? With as good as her cooking is, I can't wait to see this," Dan Scott looked at Martin.
"Yes," Martin agreed. "It'll take her a while to cook. Lets all go inside and relax for a while. We've worked hard these last few months," Martin started up to his home with the others following behind him. They went into the living room, which was furnished with furniture made by Benjamin Martin and the craftsmen. The work was exceptional, but the pride of it was the three-pound rocking chair that Martin had built in his spare time during construction. After loosing Gabriel t was increasingly hard to sleep, as if it wasn't hard enough already. When he found it absolutely impossible to sleep, he went into the rebuilt workshop. Even though they had rebuilt the shop, the tools had to be replaced. What he had missed most of all was the grand lathe. It had been imported from Holland and finest pries of equipment in the colonies. It stood six feet tall and by means of a leather belt had been connected to a lathe shaft. He remembered how his assistant Abner used to turn the crank for him while he tried to make those three-pound rocking chairs. Now he had succeeded. He had to buy a new lathe, one that was not quite such a piece of fine equipment, but he had done it. He remembered testing that thing for the first time. He could almost hear Gabriel say, "Oh, and by the way, father, your chair looks very solidly made this time." He smiled as he remembered that attempt. He remembered how Joshua had squealed as if someone had sat on him when the hair broke. He was so sure he had done it that time, until the leg broke. He missed Joshua. Tavington had forced him, along with the other Freedmen who aided the work at Fresh Water, into the British Army and he had died at one of the battles. Ironically enough he had been killed at the Battle of Cowpens, South Carolina. So had Tavington, though. Martin didn't know whether to grimace or smile upon Cowpens. He'd killed Tavington and the Patriots had won there, but yet there was something there that made it a painful memory.
The men sat down on chairs and Martin went to fetch something for them to drink. As he went to get them, he had to marvel at what he had here. It really was very similar to his old home. He returned a few minutes later with some glasses and some fine Irish whiskey. Irish whiskey, what he had used as antiseptics the day they found those wounded soldiers in their front yard, he remembered. After he had poured the drinks he sat down with the rest of his men and they talked for hours. After about an hour and a half into their conversation, the newly built house had come up.
"How do you like the new house, Colonel?" Dan Scott smiled at him as he took a drink of his whiskey.
"It's great," Martin smiled back, taking a drink of his own. "I was thinking, since you helped me rebuild my home, I'd like to help you rebuild yours," he said.
"Sir?" Dan Scott and the others from Pembroke looked up quizzically.
"Tavington destroyed Pembroke, your home. If you're going to rebuild it, I'd like to take part," Martin explained.
"There's nothing much left to rebuild," One of the men from the town mentioned.
"But there's still something. Not everyone died in that fire. Some of the families were on errand or visiting relatives. They have to live somewhere. Why not rebuild Pembroke."
"It's going to be hard to go back there," Dan Scott said looking into his Whiskey.
"It was hard to come back here," Martin mentioned. "This is where my son was killed. But I came back, and I'm damn glad I did, too. What you men did for our family was wonderful, and I should like to return the favor."
The men had to agree, rebuilding Pembroke would be a good way to start over.
"Thanks, Colonel," Dan Scott said and the rest of the Pembroke natives joined in their thanks.
"Benjamin," Martin smiled. "Call me Benjamin."