Part 3

A Heart Still Pining

Andrew rode his horse up the narrow trace at a fast canter, praying he was on the right road. The forest looked much different now than it had last year at summer's end. The branches of the trees, now free of their flaming leaves of fall, crackled in the icy January air. Many trees were impressibly massive; he guessed ten men with linked hands could not encircle one. They grew so tall and so close together they created an enclosed canopy above him, blocking out much of the sparse winter sunlight. The silence of these woods gave him an ominous feeling, more so than hearing the beasts of the forest scream and howl at night as he had during the warmer months. He smiled grimly as he remembered that he had not slept a wink for night after night for fear of the savage wildness of this land. Now, however, it stirred and excited him deeply in a way he knew civilization never could.

His thoughts drifted back to just a few hours ago when he had sat in a tavern with other fellow officers in a nearby town to get a drunk and escape the cold. Many of the men were homesick; tired of having snowballs and rocks thrown at them by the colonials, of being outrightly hated and called "bloody lobsterbacks" to their faces when they should have been hailed as heroes. He had hoped he had finally succeeded in forgetting her as he had for several days, that is until he heard verses drift in the building from outside where some soldiers were singing. It had gone:

The hours sad I left a maid
A lingering farewell taking
Whose sighs and tears my steps delayed
I thought her heart was breaking.
I seek for one as fair as day,
But find none to remind me.

O ne'er shall I forget the night,
the stars were bright above me.
And gently lent their silv'ry light
when first she vowed to love me.
How sweet the hours I passed away,
With the girl I left behind me.

His mind had turned of its own accord to the face of the girl whom he had left alone on a homestead six months ago, to which he now headed. He could not seem to stop thinking of her now, no matter how hard he tried. Even in the heat of battle, with bullets whistling past and nearly missing him and the screams of the dying crying out to him he saw her face, remembered the touch of her soft skin… This had to stop. He was being a fool. He had met many willing and accomodating southern Loyalist women, all more beautiful and of better quality than she. Yet unexplainably his thoughts always seemed to stray to her. She was, after all, a farmer's daughter and the idea of him courting her was a joke. He could not bring her back as his wife. He grimaced when he imagined the disgusted look on his father and mother's face.

He would see her one more time, see that she did well and he had no need to worry about her. He would find her less appealing in reality than he had in his dreams, and he would no longer desire her. He was a soldier, and he could not be distracted from his duties. Reaching the homestead he pulled his horse to a stop and jumped down. He had been distracted and had not realized his horse had had to labor through snow reaching the animal's knees. He looked around but found no one was there to greet him. The only sound he heard was of a woman singing.

Leah reached down to pick more of the winter squash from off the ground. She had had to dig through deep snow in order to reach them and her hands were numb and tingling from the cold. Her large belly had made her feel awkward and off balance. Here, behind the farmhouse, drifts reached almost as high as the first story. Her breath came out in great plumes like smoke. She was glad for the snowshoes Ousamequin had made for her.

She stood and surveyed the land around her and the beauty in it to catch her breath. Ice had frozen and left a thin covering on even the smallest branches of the white beech trees at the edge of the forest beyond the fields. The snow covered gray mountains rose up sharply to meet the milky blue sky. The Indian men had said that God speaks to us through the silence of His creation… Leah felt inside that something would happen today, but so far she had been disappointed. She stood still, lost in thought. The scene before her made her think of a song her mother had sung on winter days, and she began to sing it,

Our mountains and hills and our valleys below
Are oftentimes covered with ice and with snow.
If any prove hearty and would it withstand
They forfeit a finger a foot or a hand

She felt her baby move within her and she put her hands on her big belly, barely visible beneath her bulky blankets and clothing, to soothe it.

"Don't like that one?" She hummed another and began to sing it loudly so the baby could hear.

It was one summer's morning
Her uncle went straightway,
He knocked at her bedroom door,
And thus to her did say-
Come, rise up, pretty maiden,
A lady you may be,
The squire's waiting for you---

It was then that she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, crunching through the hard-packed snow. She shaded her eyes against the sun with her hand and saw a soldier walking towards her. He was caught almost waist-deep in the snow until he reached the path Leah had made connecting the garden to the back door. She called out to him.

"Are you lost? Are you hurt? I can help you, I know something of the physick---" He stopped a yard or so from her. She felt her stomach inexplicably do a sumersault inside her.

"Leah… Do you remember me?"

The green and yellow gourds fell from her arms into a heap onto the snow and ice. Her mouth fell open in delighted surprise.

"Andrew?" She whispered, hardly daring to believe what she saw. He grinned at her as he crossed the distance to her in two short strides. "You came back." She smiled as she repeated it.

"Yes." He felt unexplainable joy at seeing her. He pulled off the scarf wrapped round her head and part of her face to see it better. He touched her cheek. His vows made to himself earlier forgotten, he lost himself in the pleasure of seeing her again. They simply looked at one another for long moments.

He was shivering and Leah could see he was not dressed properly for the cold. She laughed. "Your face, it is so red. You'll freeze if you stay out here much longer.. Come inside with me." She took his hand and led him inside to be warmed in front of the fire.

She pulled off all of her bulky clothing and many layers of blankets. Her joy at Andrew's visit momentarily dampened as she remembered she was with child. His child. She wondered how he would react. She swallowed and slowly turned around to face him. She saw his eyes widen. He jumped to his feet and came to her side. "You did not say that… that you…". He looked to her large belly in surprise.

She licked her lips and said, "You did not ask." She shyly looked at his face, searching for any trace of approval. "You are happy?" she asked timidly as a small child would.

His arms encircled her waist and he grinned proudly, like a boy. He twirled her around and around. "Happy?" He laughed at the solemn expression on her face. "Of course I am!" he said before he kissed her again and again until she smiled back at him.

Andrew sat in Leah's father's favorite rocking chair before a roaring fire, her on his lap. His arms were wrapped around her waist, his hands on her belly, determined to feel his child kick or shift inside its mother. She rested her head against his shoulder and gave a sigh of happiness. She leaned her cheek against his. The warmth of the fire made her feel sleepy.

"How much longer?", he asked.

"Another four months, I would guess."

"How have you been? You are well?"

"I've not gotten the sickness, except in the first few weeks. I threw up every day then it seemed. Since then, sir, your child has given me no complaints other than refusing to be still."

He smiled sheepishly, like he was sorry he was the cause of her previous discomfort. His hands adoringly stroked her. "I am glad…" He turned his face and kissed her tenderly. For some odd reason he desired her terribly, more than he had when he had first laid eyes upon her. His touch became more urgent, and Leah responded in turn. He stood and carried her in his arms to bed.

They spent the later half of the next morning dallying together in bed, for it felt far too cold for either of them to leave it.

"I haven't heard news for months. Who has been winning this horrible war?"

He smiled at her excitement. "There is no chance the rebels will succeed. They have yet to win a battle. You rebellious colonials will all be the King's loyal subjects once again by the end of summer."

"They could still win. There's still a chance."

He laughed. "Hardly."

Leah said nothing for a while. Then, "Have you heard of the Butcher? They say he is an evil monster who kills women and children and---"

"Yes, I know of the Colonel. Sometimes horrible things must be done in war. We must make these rebels see that they are wrong and bring them back to us. He feels it is what must be done to bring you back to heel, to make you accept the King as your sovereign again."

"You excuse him! What if he did these things to me, Andrew? Would it be alright them in the name of your King---

"He is your King as well, Leah. And the Colonel would not harm you for you do not commit treason."

Leah again lapsed into thoughtful silence. For some reason she did not wish to tell him of the illegal rebel newspapers she had read. She thought she could remain neutral, and yet had fallen in love with the ideas of liberty and a new nation where all men were free from tyranny. Why should we not rule ourselves?

He could see his words had troubled her and he quickly changed the subject. "Have you heard from your brothers? Your father?"

"Nathan sent me a letter. I've not heard from father or Tom. But then, I never really expected one." He caught the hurt look crossing her face and he nodded as he caressed her face.

Leah had fallen asleep again that afternoon and when she awoke she went downstairs to find him dressed and ready to leave. He stood and took her hands in his. "Leah, I must go. I've stayed too long already."

She felt tears well up in her eyes. "No. You haven't even been here a day. I will worry so much for you. Stay---"

He stroked her back and she leaned into him. He pulled her to look at him and he wiped the tears from her face. "Do not worry about me, there will not be any fighting now in winter. I'll come back, to see our baby. This summer, I promise."

"I want to come with you."

"You know you cannot."

She closed her eyes nodded. He kissed her one last time and held her in his arms to comfort her. As he rode away he felt a turmoil of confusing feelings. He was being a fool, losing himself in her eyes, her embrace. If she had not had a child… He knew that guilt would not simply the reason why. What had happened here had been the opposite of what he had intended. He did not know what he felt exactly, but he knew he would keep his promise and return.