Disclaimer:All characters and settings in this story are the property of Elizabeth George Speare. I'm just playing...
Do you remember?
A morning in early April of 1690 found Kit Eaton standing quietly on the forecastle deck of her husband's ketch, the Witch. She had been there since daybreak, watching the grey landmass that was America slowly approach. This time, though, she watched with the eagerness of homecoming, instead of the disappointment she had felt upon her first arrival.
Around the same time, three years earlier, Kit had come to America from Barbados for the first time. She'd been going to stay with her aunt and uncle, Matthew and Rachel Wood.
"What does it look like to you now?" The question came from Nat, her seafaring husband, who had snuck quietly to her side as she stood leaning on the railing, lost in thought.
"It looks like home," Kit replied softly. Throughout the year she had spent in Barbados, she had been filled with a curious longing for North America, the place that, initially, she had hated.
"Do you remember," she asked, "that day on the boat, when I jumped into the water to catch Prudence's doll?" Nat laughed quietly.
"You were so eager to see your new home, yet you found strange surprises there. How foolish I was, flying into a rage in that fashion. 'Tis a wonder you ever agreed to marry me."
"Perhaps you bewitched me," she teased, and laughed at his expression of mock outrage.
"About that," he said, becoming serious. "Perhaps it would be best if you did not go to Wethersfield for the summer. I hear that there had ben a bit of a witch-scare again, and your coming could be like the rubbing of salt in old wounds." Kit scowled.
"No harm will come to me Nat, this I promise. My family would not allow it, and I shall get off on the right foot this time." Her eyes held his gaze beseechingly.
"Think on it, Kit, please. Mayhap they could visit you..." He broke off, know that her family, especially her cousin Mercy, could not.
"Very well, go then, but I will accompany you, at least for a time." Kit nodded, knowing that a better bargain would not be gotten from him. The couple turned back toward the approaching shoreline, neither speaking aloud, both thinking their own thoughts.
Judith Ashby bustled about her house, helping to ready the midday meal. Her husband William would be in from his work soon, and he liked when everything was just so. She looked around the sunny dining room, brimming with satisfaction. Spring had come, hers was the finest house in Wethersfield, and her husband was a fine, well-to-do man. Life was good.
Sighing happily, she looked around, making sure once again that nothing was missing. The house was the young couple's personal triumph, with its diamond paned windows, Delft china, and spotless housekeeping. Around the house were neatly arranged vases of early spring flowers, crisp linen curtains, and finely woven rugs. Hurrying up the stairs, Judith went to her bedroom and stood before the looking glass.
She looked quite smart, but considering the importance of this luncheon... Judith looked through the fine pieces of jewelry she now owned, all gifts from William, and chose a brooch adorned with a red wax rose to pin to her snowy white collar. Hearing her husband's footsteps in the hall, she picked up her skirts and rushed down the stairs into his embrace.
Arm in arm, they walked together to the set table. Contending with a nervous excitement that was gnawing at her insides, Judith hardly at a bite of the fine meal. William noticed her edginess quickly, considering his usual concentration on his food.
"Why, Judith," he exclaimed. "You have scarcely said a word since I came home. Is anything amiss?" She took a deep breath, clasping her hands in her lap.
"I have something to tell you, William." His brow wrinkled.
"This is not such a confession as Kit might have made, is it?" Judith was taken aback. Kit was not a common topic in the Ashby household.
"William! I am no Mistress Tyler, or rather, Eaton. I merely have news, joyous news. I am carrying your child!" He stared at her, fist in shock, then in happiness.
"Well, that is indeed good news!" He reached out and took hold of her hand as if unsure of how to proceed.
"Do you have any names in mind?"
"Well, for a girl I always liked Phyllis..."
Mercy Holbrook sat in her rocking chair beside the hearth of her snug new cabin, darning a pair of socks as her husband John read to her. Spring had come, but it was still chilly enough to enjoy a crackling fire and a cozy evening spent together. Presently, John closed his book and smiled at her.
"I will miss this when the summer work begins." After the start of the hard farm work that Joh share with Marcy's father, he rarely found time to read long pieces to her.
"I will miss these evenings too, but there is always the Sabbath. I always enjoy hearing you preach your sermons."
"And I love to know that you like to her me speak." Mercy laughed.
"'T'would be a great pity if a wife did not enjoy listening to her husband. Do you remember the night you first read to us? I was as starstruck as William when he first say Kit, if I am to believe the story Judith tells." John smiled, amused.
"I was there, in case you did not know, Mercy. If you were as smitten as he, I did not notice at the time." Sharing a loving look, they sat in contented silence, remembering.