Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war...
The Gettysburg Address - Abraham Lincoln
The Mercantiler's Daughter
Paul had been laboring at the Trout's Dry Good's Mercantile for over a year now. He had been highly recommended to Mr. Bartholomew Trout by a Tory friend of Major Mimms. Bartholomew and his wife Joanna weren't fond of British soldiers, but nor were they keen on the Sons of Liberty. Matter of fact, which ever way one sliced the bread, they didn't care. All they wanted was a helping hand to lend assistance when Mr. Trout was off on business in New York trading pelts with the southern tribesmen.
Both Joanna and her daughter Abigail had grown quite appreciative of Paul. Joanna liked that he was always prompt, hard working and polite, while Abigail enjoyed his pleasant nature as well as finding him captivating to look at. He wasn't particularly tall and striking, but neither was she. He had a kind face though, a well proportioned frame and the most beautiful chestnut brown hair she'd ever seen on a man.
Paul was also a little different than the rest of the soldiers, in that he didn't paste his hair down when he came to the shop. So Abigail found it to be endearing when the occasional strand would escape the tight que it was always in. Paul's hair was also quite long and like most enlisted men, he didn't wear a wig. Abigail was surprised to find too that it was not uncommon for the soldiers to dress each other's hair and Paul had a friend who'd do what he called a 'fish bone braid'. Abigail liked that look and one day, she convinced herself that she'd gather the courage to ask for a demonstration.
The other thing she liked about Paul was that he was always neat and tidy when he came to work. She'd hear him and others tell tales of the men they'd thrown in the harbor for their lack of personal hygiene (and at times less their clothing). She always found that amusing, seeing how Boston harbor was anything but clean. Paul and his gaggle of companions though were usually well kept and not offensive to the nose. Matter of fact, they pretty much smelled of some combination of camp fire, spice and pine; which unfortunately could not be said for the entire army. Tess too though, the wife of Mathias; (whom were actually from Bavaria. Don't ask how they came to be in the British army; tis a long tale) she was one of particular sensitivities when it came to bathing and was known to complain loudly of displeasing folk, which is usually what precessed the trips to Boston harbor some of the soldiers seemed to savor dragging the unwilling participants too.
"Abigail, I'm going now. Just come home when you're finished." Joanna called to her daughter up in the front of the store.
"Yes mama." Abigail responded.
"Oh, and Paul is back there stacking flour sacks." Joanna gestured to the back room as she came through the store headed for the front door. "The back is locked." She commented as she pulled on her bonnet, grabbed her basket and headed out into the cold.
"Thank you mama." Abigail waved as her mother passed the window.
Abigail crept back to the storeroom door to see where Paul was. She hated to admit it, but she just liked to watch him work. He was a sturdy fellow, who moved with a quiet grace that made her want to giggle inside. He wasn't paying any attention to her. He never did when he had tasks to do, which made this little game all the more entertaining for her. She'd take little mental notes and when ever he'd get close to noticing her attention, she'd quickly fake something to do. A few times he'd stop and peer over at her, seeming a bit puzzled, shake his head (as if he was the crazy one) and go back to work. This always made Abigail snicker. Paul had been nothing but mannerly around herself and mama, always considerate and helpful. Both mama and father seemed to like him. Abigail wondered though if her parents realized how much she liked him?
Abigail let out a sigh as she returned to counting coins in her security box. She was a little ruffled, since father had told her that Miles Hanson had asked him for her hand in marriage. Abigail shook her head in disbelief. Miles was anything but that - mild. Father had told her about this a few days prior and though he'd said the choice was up to her, Abigail could tell father thought it would be a good idea. Miles wasn't all that much older than she, but father also never saw his temper either. She'd met the unfortunate experience one evening while at the Chesterfield's estate and Miles took it upon himself to berate and beat one of their house slaves. Clarence Chesterfield did not take kindly to that and had thrown Miles out of the gathering. Of course father didn't hear that side of the story either. Miles had just told him that he and Clarence had a business deal that went "under water".
So, speak of the devil, who should drop by the store? Abigail growled under her breath as she saw none other than Miles Hanson jiggling the front handle to get in. She felt like waking over and telling him they were closed, but she knew he wouldn't "buy" that one. It was still too early in the day.
"Hello Miss Abigail." Miles smiled politely as he looked around her to see if her mother was in her back office.
"Good day Mr. Hanson." Abigail replied, hoping her formality would let him know she really wasn't in the mood to be bothered.
"Are you... alone?" Miles inquired. "Your mother doesn't seem to be in her office."
"She wasn't feeling well. She left early." Abigail replied. "But no, I'm not alone here." She added in quick post script.
"Oh?" Miles sounded surprised. "That's very well, it won't be that much longer." He quipped as he walked around the store looking at the fineries. What won't be that much longer? Abigail eyed the back of his head.
"You are making plans aren't you?" Miles turned toward her. "Your father has told you; hasn't he?"
"Yes." Abigail sighed, suddenly realizing her father apparently hadn't told him that she'd 'not decided'.
"And your plans?" Miles inquired.
"Yes, my plans." Abigail replied as she peered into the back room just to make sure Paul was still there. She didn't expect that he wouldn't be. He'd never leave without telling her. She breathed a veiled sigh of relief when she saw him stand up. "My plans are... coming along fine." Abigail giggled a bit at the idea that had just popped into her head.
"Oh great!" Miles smiled broadly, not even paying attention to the fact that she wasn't even looking at him. Imbecile, she quietly smirked.
"So who's here with you?" Miles seemed a bit annoyed.
"Oh, just some hired help." Abigail tried to pass it off.
"It's not that redcoat is it?" Miles grumbled.
"Which one?" Abigail said coyly. "Boston is full of them you know." She quipped.
Miles gave her the eye.
"Don't know why your father hired him?" Miles muttered.
"Because he's a good worker, he knows how to keep books and he's been nothing but well mannered and courteous." Abigail answered.
"No matter." Miles remarked coldly. "Won't be long before he's gone."
Gone? Abigail wondered nervously, before she peered toward the back room and called for him. "Paul! Come out here please."
"Yes?" Paul came right away. "What do you need?" He asked while brushing the flour dust off his work apron.
"Hello sir." Paul nodded to the stranger in the store.
Miles looked inquisitively at him, seeming a bit unnerved by the physical difference between the two; as Paul was obviously more accustomed to manual labor and definitely younger than Miles. Soldiers, the crown's pack animals. Miles nodded in half acknowledgment before his attention drifted back toward Abigail and he smiled a nearly sinister grin.
"Um?" Abigail tried to think of something quickly as she'd remembered she is the one who'd summonsed Paul to begin with and to not look to suspicious, she'd better think of something for him to do. She looked around a moment. "Oh, I've been meaning to check our spice supplies." She said to Paul as she pointed to the cabinets next to her. "Would you see if there are some extras under the counter over here?"
"Sure." Paul nodded, trying not to show that he recognized Abigail's discomfort. "What are you looking for?"
"Um?" Abigail glanced at him and ducked down behind the counter. "Sugar, what do we have left down here in sugar?"
Paul came over and squatted down behind the counter, getting the feeling that Abigail just wanted him to come be near her.
"Very well." Miles announced as he headed for the door. "Tell me when you have your plans finished."
"Yes my plans finished." She muttered to herself as she popped up from behind the counter just to see Miles walking away. Her eyes than wandered back toward Paul, who was now stranded amongst piles of tin containers. Abigail smirked a sly smile and waltzed over to the other side of the counter.
As soon as Miles was gone, she scurried over and locked the door. Paul peered up from behind the counter. "Closing early?" He asked as Abigail scurried back and ducked behind the counter again.
"He thinks I'm going to marry him." Abigail huffed in exasperation.
Paul looked shocked.
"He told my father he wants to marry me." She explained as she began to busy herself with looking for sugar. "But I don't want him." She muttered as she began to blush a bit.
"Well, I'm sure if you tell your father, he'll understand. He's a reasonable man." Paul offered, trying not to let his own distress show through, for he really liked Abigail himself, although never fathomed for a moment that he'd have a chance. After all, life as an army wife, Paul could not see having any appeal to a young lady like Abigail. So he let out a small sigh and turned back to the stacks of tin containers.
Abigail looked at him and smiled. So innocently unsuspecting too. She fought to contain her emotions for fear of what Paul might think of her. After all, young lasses weren't suppose to look at young lads the way she was looking at him. What would she tell her father though? Speaking of? She thought a moment.
"Well, father did leave it up to me, although he seems to think this is a good idea." She sighed, back on topic at hand. "But I can't stand Miles." Abigail whispered as if this was some big secret. "He's a pompous ass."
Paul nearly gasped as he turned and looked at Abigail. He'd never heard her use such language. So thus he knew she must be really upset about all of this. "Well, we just have to tell your father!" Paul declared his definitive conclusion. "To not tell him makes no sense."
Abigail glanced over at him and smiled, for he'd said exactly what she'd thought he'd say and also precisely what she wanted to hear! She fought hard to keep her excitement in.
"Yeah but for some reason right now, father's worried I'll never find someone." Abigail sighed as she shook her head for her parents' obvious lack of observation. "He's got his breeches all in knots." She muttered. Paul only giggled as she began handing him canisters. Here was her opportunity. She thought.
"B..B..But I have." Abigail stuttered a whisper which suddenly caught Paul's attention. He swallowed hard as he didn't want to be impolite and ask who?
Abigail paused quietly as she fought within herself as to whether or not she actually had the courage to do what she was thinking. She put the canisters down and motioned to Paul to come a bit closer. "I'll tell you." She whispered like a secretive school girl.
OK, Paul laughed to himself as he agreed to play her silly game. So he pushed the containers aside and leaned in to hear the big secret; than Abigail leaned over and kissed his forehead. Paul just about fainted.
The whole room went dead silent in Paul's ears. Did what he thought happened just happen? He had to ask himself as a distinct embarrassment began to fill his face. Paul had lost his balance and when his feet went out from under him, he found himself praying to God that he wouldn't actually pass out. That would be awful. He thought to himself. What would Abigail think he was trying to tell her? Paul also knew he was turning several shades of deep red as he could feel the blood rushing to his face. He clasped his hands over his mouth for he wasn't sure what to do next. He really wanted to hug Abigail, but knew if he started, it would be awfully hard to stop. So he only sat on the floor, eyes glued to her.
Abigail just sat giggling at him. His sensitive apprehension left her absolutely delighted and now she knew she could find the courage to creep a little closer without fear of Paul being carried away by some out of control desire. She just wasn't so sure about herself though. She shyly covered her face as she peeked out from between her fingers.
"Here." She finally sighed as she slid a hair closer and helped him with the leather work apron. "I do like your uniform." She confessed as she straitened his collar. "You wear it so proudly." She smiled as Paul couldn't help but lean over and politely kiss the side of her face. Abigail giggled as she really wanted to hug him, but wasn't sure if she should.
"So what are you going to do about Miles?" Paul asked the serious question.
"Well..." Abigail grinned innocently. "If you... help me..." She nervously tangled her fingers together. "I don't have to worry about him."
Paul looked at her in awestruck profound shock. Was she that serious about this?
"Y.. Y..you know what that means... don't you?" He asked, although Paul himself wasn't exactly sure what it meant.
"Well... um, sort of?" Abigail hesitantly confessed. "I know it does mean I'd be fast making friends with a lot of women in your regiment." She whispered.
Paul started to laugh. "Well, that's true." He nervously shrugged in a bit of relief. "I think you'd like Mathias's wife Tess." He snickered.
"But what about the store?" Paul posed a more serious question. "And what about your father?"
"My parents are selling the store." Abigail explained. "We're not even loyalists, but it's getting awfully dangerous." Abigail went on. "People have even threatened father just for hiring you. So, he's asked Mr. Wenslaw if he wants to buy the business and he agreed."
"Mr. Wenslaw?" Paul gave Abigail a strange look. "The steadfast...patriot, or what ever he wants to call himself?"
"Yes." She nodded. "Father hasn't said anything to anyone else, but as soon as the finances trade hands, he thinks it's best to just leave. Mother has an aunt in Canada."
"Hum." Was Paul's only response.
"So..." Abigail smiled big as she crept a little closer to Paul and fidgeted with his collar again. Paul smiled back. He was happy, although he wasn't sure what to do. Abigail paused a moment and looked seriously at Paul. "You've never..." She whispered in quite affirmation.
No. Paul shook his head.
"Oooh, I knew you were the right one!" She enthusiastically exclaimed as she began unbuttoning his waist coat.
"Abigail!" Paul squealed in panicked excitement as he took hold of her hands. "Are you... sure about this?" He gasped.
Abigail looked earnestly at Paul before she wiggled her hands free and grabbed hold of his head. "I know your life is hard." She said. "But the honest dignity you possess is worth the sacrifice." She nodded. "I don't even care if this war kills both of us." She whispered. "I have never met anyone quite like you..." Abigail paused a moment. "And that's why I should be so bold as to ask this of you?"
Paul sat in stunned silence. Beautiful Abigail who could choose from how many other men of much more means than he, is willing to forsake all that for a chance at sincere love, even if that chance ends on a battlefield a couple of months from now. The thought brought tears to his eyes.
"Okay." He agreed.
Abigail excitedly threw her arms around him and nearly before Paul had really grasped what had happened. She was saying: "Do it again please." While in his exhaustion, he had to confess: "I don't think I can."
Paul sat up and looked around. It sort of felt like had left this world for some divine place and had just returned. Was that what God meant by rapture; or at least the closest thing to resurrection he could experience without actually dying? Yet the only thing that kept going through his mind was; Abigail, now we need to go talk to your father and hope he's not too mad at me. Paul wanted to laugh, but wasn't sure this was actually funny. All he knew was that he sure felt satiated and wanted to sleep. His whole body tingled and he felt utterly humbled by the experience.
Despite the desire to just take a long nap, Paul forced himself to seek out something to clean up with. Abigail lay giggling on the floor while he tried to get up, and nearly collapsed on top of her again. Still, Paul fumbled around the nearly dark mercantile till he found some water and a few scraps of linen remnants. He warmed the pot by the smoldering fire and offered Abigail some assistance. She was utterly exhilarated now and Paul began to wonder if were possible that she could be with child? He had no idea. He'd heard that could happen, but he had no way of knowing for sure and now that possibility was utterly sobering. Either way, that didn't seem to matter. Paul now knew he was completely responsible for her.
"Abigail" Paul whispered. "We need to go talk to your father now."
Abigail sat up and looked at Paul for a moment before she threw her arms around him.
"I knew I did the right thing when I chose you!" She declared as she kissed him.
Paul had to think about that again, as he put his arms around Abigail and gently kissed her forehead. She felt so familiar to him now. She chose him, but he willfully agreed. Regardless of what society would have to say about their predicament, they were cleaved together now and Paul understood they needed to stay that way!
So they readied themselves and Paul took Abigail by the hand and walked her home. When they ascended the stairs and knocked on the door. Mr. Trout answered. Abigail peeked out at her father from behind Paul. "Sir." Paul said. "I need to speak with you."
Mr. Trout acknowledged with a nod and escorted the two inside. "Joanna dear." He called seeming rather ominously aware. "Would you come in here please. I think our daughter is ready to plan her wedding."
"Really?" A startled response came from the kitchen, only to be followed by even more profound surprise when she came to the front door.
"Paul?" Joanna looked at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Dear?" Her husband only peered at her.
"What?" Joanna looked back at him. Mr. Trout just cleared his throat.
"But you just said..." She mumbled thoughtlessly. "And I just left..." Joanna suddenly covered her mouth. "Ooooh." She whispered staring at the two of them, of whom she could mostly see only Paul, since her daughter was still hiding behind him. "That was a couple hours ago now wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was." Mr. Trout acknowledged. "Is your headache gone now dear?" He glanced at his wife.
Joanna peered up at her husband. "Well, that depends?" She cheerfully tried to sound hopeful. "Do we know for sure that's..." She paused a moment. "Well... " She flitted her hand through the air. "You know..." She whispered.
Mr. Trout cocked his head and turned toward Paul, holding his hand out to indicate he should answer.
Paul became flush and tried to give them an audible reply, but nothing came out. So, he just nodded solemnly.
"Oh dear Lord." Joanna put her hand to her head. "What should we do?"
"Call for the Vicker." Her husband stated the obvious.
"I'm so sorry." Joanna told her husband. "So many times I've left them there alone... I never thought..."
Mr. Trout held his hand up to indicate his wife should hold her peace. "We gave her the choice." He said. "She made it and though he might not have been first on our list. She obviously chose someone who's got the courage to come here and tell us." Mr. Trout sighed. "But I'm going to catch hell from my Sons of Liberty brother."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about uncle Patrick." Abigail mumbled sheepishly.
"Oh dear." Joanna said to Abigail. "I knew you admired him, but I never knew." She took her daughter by the hand. "I think you made a good choice too." She whispered in Abigail's ear. "He is rather attractive."
"Thank you mother." Abigail giggled.
"But your father's right. Uncle Patrick is going to split a cannon!"
Joanna and Abigail went to finish preparing dinner while Joanna paused to set three extra plates; one for her new son in law and the other for the honorable Reverend Freeier and his wife Bessie. Mr. Trout went to fetch the Vicker while Abigail's older brother came into his father's library and sat down with Paul.
Paul had met Samuel on a few occasions, when he wasn't traveling with his father; but had never dreamed it'd be under these circumstances. Paul wasn't sure if he should be happy or embarrassed. The Trout family seemed to be far more understanding than he'd ever expected they would be, although Paul was having a hard time "reading" Samuel. They sat for probably near a half hour before Samuel finally said something.
"I'm really surprised at you."
"Well, I'm sorry if I've disappointed you." Paul answered politely.
"No, I'm surprised you lasted this long." Samuel started to snicker. "I know at least a couple of girls that had their intentions upon you. You and your... honorable brothers that is." Samuel paused a moment. "The morally respectable, polite and highly civil redcoats; not the jackass soldiers that get into brawls with my cousins and their 'son's of brainlessness' friends." Samuel shook his head. "Must be something... innately ravishing about young men in army uniforms with manners and...chastity!" He laughed dramatically. "You give renewed and needed esteem to the term - fornication under consent of the king." He snickered.
Paul raised a weary eyebrow to Samuel. Not sure if that comment was a compliment or not?
"Don't worry." Samuel waved Paul's concern away. "I still like you and will still respect you in the morning." He chuckled. "My sister is no dull of mind, silly girl. Blue lobsters are a prize catch, even if they are still lobsters." He said as he got up, upon hearing the front door open. He motioned to Paul. "Father is back. Let's go see if dinner is ready."
Paul followed Samuel into the other room, where they met Mr. Trout, Reverend Freeier and his wife Bessie by the foyer. Mr. Trout introduced them. Paul thought it was very kindly to be referred to as the 'soon to be officially adopted member of the family'. The Reverend seemed a bit surprised.
"Shall I take this to understand Bartholomew, that your brother will not be attending?" He quietly inquired of Mr. Trout.
"Ehh, no." was the response.
"Likely a wise choice." The Reverend nodded.
Most of the rest of the evening went by in pleasant conversation after a brief exchange of vows and a signing of the marriage certificate. Abigail was very happy, although Paul was still quite nervous for some reason he couldn't quite pinpoint. Abigail kept eyeing him and he tried to be temperate, knowing she was anticipating being able to take him upstairs at the end of the festivities. He felt absolutely humbled by and even undeserving of the deep love she had so utterly pursued and consumed him with. He now understood why Tess so willingly followed Mathias onto the battlefield and now with Breeds hill still so fresh in his memory, he was both fearful and awestruck at the idea that Abigail may do the same. Just the thought made him want to take her upstairs.
All this felt so strange as Paul sat with these feelings stirring around inside of him. He stayed in the study with the Reverend and Mr. Trout listening intently to them discuss God, love and being cleaved together. Paul didn't have much to say, since it was all new to him and he simply felt so overwhelmed by what had happened that he wouldn't know what to say even if he wanted to say anything at all. He thought of Abigail's respectful request that he do this for the sake of her preferring him over Miles. He never imagined he'd agree to something like that, but when she told him it was his strength of character she so admired, Paul knew he'd made a good choice too, for he could see that she bore many of the same traits.
Paul was lost in all these thoughts when Mr. Trout asked him a question.
"So, why did you choose my daughter?"
Paul had to come back to his senses for a moment. "Well," He paused because it really was such a complicated question. "I noticed her interest...but, I never thought she'd be so... intent to follow those feelings." Paul opened his mouth and was frankly surprised at how eloquently his thoughts escaped. "So, I just stayed out of the way and let her make what ever choice seemed best to her.." Paul took a deep breath. "I always thought she was just lovely, but never figured I'd have much of a chance."
"So she chose you?" The Reverend reiterated.
Paul hesitantly nodded with a cautious shrug, for he didn't want it to seem like he was blaming Abigail for the choices he made himself. "She did ask me, but I was the one who agreed." He stated resolutely.
"Hum? Interesting" The Reverend responded. "And why did you agree?"
"Because..." Paul hesitated another moment. "She said she loved me."
There was several moments of silence as the two men took in his response.
"And do you love her?" Came Mr. Trout's question.
"How can you not love someone who's willing to sacrifice so much?" Paul replied.
The other two men just smiled at him.
"Are you willing to sacrifice so much." The Reverend asked.
"Yes." Paul quietly nodded.
"I know he is." Mr. Trout continued. "If he waited so long to not impose his own desires on my daughter, he would sacrifice so much. I've seen him do so just for me."
"Hum?" The Reverend nodded. "So how do you suppose this happened than?" He turned to Mr. Trout.
"Well, seems she initiated and he agreed." Came the answer. "I'm sure it had something to do with Miles Hanson, but I firmly believe she still made the choice. My daughter is stubborn that way and I know she won't settle for less than what she really wants." Mr. Trout gestured at Paul.
"I had a feeling anyways, this would be the outcome; after observing a few times the way she watched him." He chuckled while Paul grew a bit more self conscious and certainly more embarrassed. "She'd said to her mother and I at dinner several months back, that she hoped this unrest didn't come to war, because she didn't know what she'd do if something happened to him."
"Something may still happen to him." The Reverend pointed out.
"Yes, but you know as well as I do, that it's a little different now." Mr. Trout added as he looked at Paul and smiled. Paul couldn't do anything but assent in agreement. The other two men only chuckled.
"Oh to be so young, innocent and completely, overwhelmingly... seized upon!" Mr. Trout laughed. "I remember those days!"
"Well than, if your satisfied Bartholomew, I think we're done here." Reverend Freeier concluded as he patted the chair handles and proceeded to get up. "Shall we go fetch Bessie, and my coat." He smiled.
"Well, if you are sure you would not like some pie." Mr. Trout asked. "Apple-berry; it's Abigail's favorite."
"Wedding pie instead of cake." The reverend laughed.
"Well, you have to make do with circumstances you know." Mr. Trout chuckled.
They were just leaving the library when a knock came at the door. Mr. Trout paused to open it. "Well hello, Ebenezer." Paul heard him greet someone. "Would you like to come in? We are all just about to have some tea and desert."
"Oh that would be grand Bartholomew, but I don't really have time. I just came to bring you my payment and some paperwork for the store." The other voice answered. It was Mr. Wenslaw. "Are you sure you won't join the cause. You'd make a fine statesman and once this war is over, we are going to need them." He chuckled as Mr. Trout disappeared into his library for a moment to sign the papers. "We already know you can run a business."
"Yes, Ebenezer, I know. I get many offers from both sides." Mr. Trout answered as he came back out. "We wish to remain neutral though. The thought of shedding the blood of good men on either side sickens me. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Freedom has a price." Mr. Wenslaw answered. "I would have been up there myself if I could. Bad back you know."
"Yes, I'm sure you would have." Mr. Trout nodded.
"I know Bartholomew. Some times we just have to take a stand though." Mr. Wenslaw continued. "I know this pains you. So, I have to ask; that soldier from your store? Is he Okay?"
"Yes, Ebenezer." Mr. Trout paused a moment. "Thank you for asking." He sighed. "He's actually here right now. Do you want to see him?"
"Well..." Mr. Winslaw hesitated a moment as Paul peeked out from behind the library door. Mr Winslaw suddenly became misty eyed at the sight of him. "My son died on that hill." He sucked in a sob.
Paul came out from behind the door. "I lost people too." He quietly whispered. "Two 12 year old drummer boys were among them."
"Civil war is never a good idea." Mr. Trout mumbled as he threw up his hands and walked into the other room.
"You're right Bartholomew." Ebenezer wiped his tears. "I will respect you enough to leave this war outside." He cried a bit more. "The three of us are never going to fix what's wrong in Parliament."
"Or what's wrong in these colonies." Paul added.
Mr. Wenslaw just looked at Paul. "Yes," He finally conceded. "That too." He than turned and hurried out the door.
Mr. Trout ran outside as Paul watched from the front entrance. "Ebenezer! Ebenezer!" He called into the darkness. "I'm sorry!"
"So am I." Came a loan mournful voice in the distance. "So am I."
Mr. Trout came back inside, quietly closed the door and leaned his head against it.
"I'm sorry too." Paul whispered as Mr. Trout just turned and looked at him, before he erupted in a bout of frustration and grabbed Paul by the coat.
"If I could just rip all these damned uniforms off all of you!" He growled as he shoved Paul up against the wall. "We go back to being one community." He cried. "One people... under God."
"Father?" Abigail's voice came from behind them. Mr. Trout turned and looked at his daughter, before he let go of Paul.
"The sooner we get out of here, the better." He sighed. "I'm sorry Paul." He turned around a moment. "I've lived in this city my entire life. I don't want to leave!" He sucked in a deep breath. "But it's only people like Ebenezer that are keeping these thugs from raiding the store and burning down our house." Mr. Trout fought to keep control of himself. "Now that he's paid me. We should finish packing. I want to be out of Boston before day break."
"I'll help you sir." Paul volunteered.
Mr. Trout paused and looked at Paul a moment. "Thank you." He said.
The family agreed that they would sit down to desert though before they began to execute their 'bug out of Boston' plan. Though all knew this day was coming, it weighted heavy on their minds, like the last supper. "May this cup pass from us." The Reverend prayed.
Dishes were just being picked up when another knock came at the door. Who was it now? Mr. Trout sighed as he got up to answer, praying it wasn't anyone dangerous. He peered out the side widow before he opened the door. It was Miles Hanson. Annoying definitely, but dangerous - probably not.
"Yes Miles, how may I help you?" Mr. Trout tried to be diplomatic.
"I've come to see Abigail." Miles answered.
"Well, she's busy at the moment." Mr. Trout said. "She and my wife have a many things to accomplish tonight."
"She's thrown herself into the planning I see!" Miles smiled broadly.
"Yes, she has." Mr. Trout answered nondescriptly, not really wanting to be dealing with Miles right now.
"Can I see her for just a moment though?" Miles insisted trying to peer around Mr. Trout. "I want to ask her opinion on something."
"Well." Mr Trout sighed. "I tell you what, if you come by the store tomorrow. That would be better for us."
Just as Mr. Trout was about to be rid of Miles, he saw Reverend Freeier come through the door that lead to the kitchen. "Reverend Freeier!" Miles slipped by Mr. Trout. "How nice to see you tonight." He ran over to shake the Reverend's hand. "Special occasion?" He smiled big. "Like wedding plans?" Miles giggled.
"Well, actually the wedding is over." The Reverend said.
Miles stopped cold. "What wedding is over?"
"Mine!" Samuel suddenly came running through the door. Any opportunity to taunt Miles, he could not pass it up.
"So who did you marry?" Miles said coldly.
Samuel looked around, the only women being either members of his own family or the Reverend's wife, all of whom Miles knew.
"OH!" Samuel suddenly exclaimed. "My blushing beauty must be upstairs awaiting her love!" He tossed his head back in a mock faint, complete with absurd hand gestures. "I'd better hurry!" He giggled effeminately, ran up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door.
Mr. Trout just shook his head while he handed the Reverend his great coat.
"He didn't really get married, did he?" Miles half seriously asked Reverend Freeier as he pointed up the stairs.
The Reverend coyly shrugged and than cracked a smile as he helped his wife Bessie get ready and they slipped out the door. Miles just stood there staring at them, than turned to Mr. Trout once they were out of sight.
"What is going on here!" Miles demanded in a huff as Abigail suddenly came running in from the kitchen.
"Oh that silly brother of mine. He's so absurd." She hurried over to Miles, took his arm and escorted him to the door. "We are so busy with the plans." She tried to act as charming as possible. "Just come to the store tomorrow afternoon like father asked you to." She patted his hand and showed him the outside.
Miles looked curiously at Abigail. "So what plans have you made?" He asked suspiciously.
"Oh I can't tell you. It would ruin the surprise!" Abigail exclaimed.
At this point Miles became quite annoyed, slipped by Abigail and marched right into the kitchen. He stopped and looked around, only to see Joanna who was busy pretending to cook. Than he eyed the curtain that hung over the pantry doorway.
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you!" Joanna's voice rang through the air just as Miles approached the curtain.
"Why not?" He swung around rather angrily.
"Because you might find something in there you don't want to see." Joanna answered stoically as she noticed Paul peeping out from behind the curtain.
"Like the soldier who obtained ample carnal knowledge of your daughter in the store this afternoon!" Miles blurted out as he folded his arms; unaware that Paul was sneaking up behind him.
"No, the soldier who my daughter obtained ample carnal knowledge of in the store this afternoon." Joanna corrected without missing a beat.
There was a long moment of silence as Miles face began to turn bright red.
"That's disgusting!"' He bellowed as he wheeled around again, only to find himself standing toe to tow with Paul. "Well now? What do you have to say for yourself?" He growled disdainfully.
"HOORAH!" Paul shouted the first thing that came to mind.
Miles tried to hit him, but Paul was too fast. So he spent the next 10 minutes chasing the giggling redcoat around the house while everyone else just stood by and tried to hide their snickers. By this point Samuel had come back down the stairs and was rolling on the floor howling in laughter. Miles finally came to the conclusion that even if he could catch Paul, it wasn't likely he'd win a fight, and being made sport of by all of this was, "beneath him" after all.
So Miles stormed out of the house amidst threats of death and destruction, vowing vengeance on whom ever he could think of for having been "wronged in love". He was going to sue Mr. Trout, take over the store, burn down the house, stone Abigail and castrate the British army. (All before sunrise tomorrow morning.)
So amidst all such "excitement", the family worked through the next several hours to load up what they would take with them to Canada. It was about 3 AM when Abigail and Paul watched her parents and Samuel pull off from the road that led to the garrison barracks toward the outskirts of town. Many laughs were shared and tears shed at the forces that were now splitting Boston and the rest of the colonies apart. In this family alone, the war left brothers on either side of the boarder, as well as daughters and sons scattered across the ranks of both armies.
...testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this...