The mid-July heat baked down on Peacefield. There was nothing that Abigail Adams wanted to do more than just lie down for a few moments. She had risen before the dawn, begun the day with cleaning and cooking, woken and readied the children, and turned out toward the fields. The farm which the entire family depends upon, the farm which she fears will never produce as much as they need.
She had tried to warn John of this, but she knew that his mind was elsewhere. His letters were so full of his own frustrations and discontent that she felt discomfort in adding her own. As much as she would have leapt at the chance to join her dearest friend in Philadelphia, she understood that someone must tend to the farm. As he must tend to the seeds of their nation, she must tend to their farm and children. Surely it is not as easy a life as that of a Virginian belle, but it is one of her choosing.
Quincy has the best eyes of them, and he is the first to spot the horses approaching. For a moment her heart pounded. Her husband had precious few friends, especially at this moment with so much at stake. But with relief she observed that these were not redcoats, but two men driving a horse and cart.
When these unfamiliar faces finally slowed before her, the drivers hurried back into their wagon, and hastily disembarked and presented before her several crates and, with a flourish, a letter. Their duties done, the men bowed to her and drove their horses away.
With trembling hands and voice, she read the letter aloud to her children, who had gathered by her side with the approaching commotion.
July 3rd, 1776
My dearest friend,
You know as well as anyone that it is far easier for me to express my displeasure rather than its opposite, and that I might not be as demonstrative as my affection for you might deserve. And yet I must send my heartfelt thanks to you and to all the ladies for the saltpetre. I hope that you can take solace in the role you have played in our independency- here Abigail stopped reading aloud- and that soon, madam, I shall walk with you in Cupid's Grove.
Till then,
I am, as I ever was, and ever shall be,
Yours
Abigail smiled. He understood too.