Chapter 8
He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
Isabella Cullen, Boston, November 1769
I sighed as I nestled closer into Edward's side under the covers. We were lying there, a tangle of limbs, his arm encircling me as his thumb rubbed comforting circles on my shoulder. His heartbeat against my hand lying on the center of his chest steadied me. Outside, the world was just beginning to awake and I could hear the early morning stirrings of the forest animals, reminding me that dawn was here. I tried my best to ignore it, as if that would delay the coming of the day, but I knew that soon it would be time to return to the world of reality, the world of the inn.
Edward and I didn't have the most conventional marriage, but what we had was ours, and I treasured it for that alone. The only time we could have together as husband and wife were only stolen nights here and there, whenever I could sneak away from the inn and meet him in this little hideaway he built for us, this little corner of dreams where the future seemed close enough to grasp and the problems at hand didn't seem to matter as much anymore. I could forget about the constant danger that Edward was in, about how the number of Redcoats arriving on our shores only seemed to be growing by the day. In my own bed, I would have nightmares, dark images of marching red troops, trampling the forest floor, cutting through the trees on their way to our little home, where Edward was waiting for me, completely unaware of the coming danger. In the dream, I would scream and scream, running as fast as I could, but I never seemed to be getting anywhere and Edward never seemed to be able to hear me. But here, in Edward's arms, these nightmares never dared appear. Somehow, everything seemed far less frightening as long as we were together. Some nights we slept, some nights we loved, other nights we spent just talking, telling funny stories from our respective childhoods, or imagining what our future would be like when the Redcoats finally left.
What's more, I could forget the guilt that consumed me over keeping Charlie out of this dear part of my life. My birthday had come and passed, and as he had promised, he brought me on a stroll to the town center. The silence between us had been heavy as we were not used to being alone like that, with no work to be done. Then, without prelude, Charlie had started telling me about my mother. It was the most he'd ever spoke of her since I could remember. He told me about the first time they met, how beautiful she was and how talented and smart, how her family disapproved of the match but how she gave up everything to be with him. The perils they chose to face to come to the New World and start up a new life, leaving everything and everyone familiar behind. How he almost died of sickness on the voyage and how she'd nursed him back to health, refusing to leave him even though it meant she might grow ill herself. She had promised to never leave him.
He didn't need to tell me about her passing. That was a story I had heard many times, of that gusty September night that blew in my life as it blew out hers. How she gave me all her love and blessings with her last breath, naming me Isabella Marie, handing me off to Charlie as she lost even the strength to hold me in her arms.
What ate away at me was what Charlie had said when he turned to me. He had never been a very expressive man, but there were tears in his eyes then.
"Her dress, Isabella. Oh I wish you could've seen her in it. She was an angel, even then when she was alive. I had been hanging on to it for far too long for I had thought it was the last bit of her left to me. But I realized too late that I had been neglecting the true part of her that remained. As long as there's you, Isabella, there's her too. I see all the goodness that was in her reflected in you. I regret not being present as a real father. There's so much I should have said to you, done for you, that I didn't. It's as if I've had a veil dropped over my eyes, and when I finally brushed it aside, you were a young woman, not the little girl I remembered."
He had had to stop at this point, unable to continue as his voice cracked under the weight of his emotion. I grabbed his hand, pressing it between mine.
"Father, please don't fret over the past. You gave me a lovely childhood. I never felt unsafe or unloved. You were there for me when you needed to be. You were the one sitting by my side when I was sick. You were the one who always provided for me and kept me clothed and warm. Yes, perhaps you were a little distant, but you gave me independence and a mind with which I could think on my own. You've always let me make my own decisions, right or wrong, and learn to fix my mistakes. That's more than I can say for many other girls my age."
He patted my hand before roughly wiping at his eyes, "You are brave, Isabella. You have spirit, just like your mother. She had that same steely determination." I kissed him on the cheek.
"You know," he continued, "your mother was married in that dress. I know you are more than capable of making up your own mind, Isabella. You always have been. I'll be proud of you either way, but if you were to choose that dress for your own wedding day, I know your mother would have loved to see it, and it would mean a lot to me."
At those words, I felt as if an entire boulder had fell into my stomach, and all I had been able to manage was to croak out an, "Of course, Father," as we continued on down the lane. How could I tell him that I had already gone and married, in Mother's dress to boot, without him knowing a whit about it? My face had burned with the shame of it, and I had to look down at my boots as we walked so that my curls would hide it.
I could barely breathe when he asked me about the going-ons of my life, how Alice and Rose were doing, how Bonnie was doing in the hands of her new owner. I answered him as best I could, my soul darkened by the shadow of my secret.
Even now, thinking back to that afternoon, my brow furrowed in anxiety. Not only did I not know how I was going to tell him, I had no idea when I was going to tell him. Our inn was filled with Redcoats night and day now, and I didn't want to risk one of them over-hearing.
I could sense Edward looking at me with worry so I tried to shake the troublesome thoughts out of my mind. He was too sharp, however, to miss it.
"Thinking about your father?" he asked.
There was no hiding anything from him. I had told him about my birthday stroll with Charlie. I nodded mutely.
"Isabella, you know I'll stand behind you no matter what. I'm as much to blame in this as you. I should have asked him for your hand in marriage instead of stealing you away."
I shook my head fiercely, "No, Edward. He's my father. It was my responsibility, not yours. I'm the one who failed here."
He kissed my hair, "You're too hard on yourself, Isabella. You're not a failure. You were trying to protect him from the knowledge of who I am. You were doing your best for him."
"Trying to protect him from the knowledge of who you are?!" I cried incredulously, "No, Edward. I didn't tell him because I was selfish and a coward to boot. I know Charlie. I know he hates the tax collectors as much as anyone. He would love you if he knew you. I know he would. But I didn't tell him because I'd never had a secret before, not from anyone, and suddenly here you were, and I wanted you all to myself. It was entirely unfair. I've been a horrible daughter and now because of it, I'm a horrible wife. If Charlie knew about you, maybe we wouldn't have to sneak around like this. Maybe we'd be able to have more than a few nights every now and then." I wasn't aware of how many tears were streaming down my face before Edward started kissing them away as they fell.
"Isabella," he started, "you're not a horrible wife. You're perfect. You're perfect because you're mine. If you want to tell your father about us today, I want to be there with you. If you want to tell your father about us in five years, I still want to be there with you. A horrible daughter would never cry over her father like this."
"I'm telling him," I muttered, half to myself, "As soon as it's safe, I'm telling him."
It was hard as it always was to leave the warmth of the covers and Edward's body, but I did it as I always did. It was only getting later and later in the morning and I needed to be back before people in the inn started stirring. I put on my shift and my petticoats and behind me, I could hear the familiar sounds of Edward donning his own clothes. As soon as we'd set the bedclothes right and stamped down the fire, we were off.
Like usual, he stopped Steadfast a mile away from the inn. We dismounted to walk the rest of the way to the hidden servant's entrance, hand in hand. Our footsteps slowed just a few paces before the trees thinned out, so that we were just hidden from the view of curious eyes. I turned to face him, my hands still clasped in his.
"I'll wait for you," I promised him, our usual farewell. We never said goodbye. That particular word never felt right for us.
"I'll come for you," he promised in reply, "though hell should bar the way."
I stood up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss when suddenly, Edward's hands tightened around mine.
"There's someone here," he hissed, as he pushed me behind him.
"Isabella?"
My mouth went dry as I heard the familiar voice. Whipping my head to the left, I saw him. Jacob, with his arms full of kindling and his eyes full of shock.
I was paralyzed in sudden terror as I watched Jacob's eyes drift from me to Edward to our hands that were still clasped together. When his eyes returned to Edward's face, they were filled with something I'd never seen before. It was hate, pure and deep, and it chilled me to the very core.
"You son of a bitch," Jacob snarled. I watched in horror as he dropped the kindling, which spilled onto the frozen ground with a dull clatter, and pulled the hunting knife he kept with him from its sheath, advancing towards Edward, whose hand flashed towards his pistol, his other arm barring me behind him.
"NO!" I screamed, ducking under Edward's arm to rush towards Jacob.
"Isabella, don't!" Edward shouted, as he made a grab for me, but I was too quick. I slammed into Jacob, making him grunt with the impact.
His knife-wielding hand hesitated for a moment as he glanced down at me, his eyes softening for a moment. I took the chance to plead with him.
"Jacob, please stop this. You don't know what you are doing," I cried.
His eyes hardened again and his teeth were bared as he spat out, "This man is a wanted criminal, Isabella. There's hundreds of pounds on his head. What has he done to you? Why are you out of your bed this early in the morning?"
"No, Jacob," I begged, "This man is no criminal. He hasn't done anything to me. He's my husband."
Jacob went slack-jawed as he stared at me. I didn't like how his eyes appraised me, as if I were a stranger. I couldn't say I didn't deserve it though. He was so surprised that he dropped his knife. I had enough presence of mind at least to kick it away from his reach.
"Your what?" Jacob finally growled.
"My husband," I repeated, "I love him"
His eyes flitted between Edward and I, before he suddenly turned away from me, his hands grasping his long dark hair as he let out a string of expletives that Charlie would have had his hide for if he were a boy.
He started stalking back towards the inn and my heart stopped in sudden fear of what he may do. I ran, scrambling to block his path.
"Please, Jacob," I begged breathlessly, "please, don't tell anyone."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," he glared at me, his eyes hard as flint.
"Edward is a good man, Jacob. Please just let me explain. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I was planning to tell you soon, really. We grew up together, Jacob. You're like family and if you ever loved me as a sister, please, don't do what I think you're about to do."
My words did not have the intended effect, because Jacob pushed me away from him as he spat, "I am not your brother, Isabella. Don't you say that. We are not blood." His words cut through me as I stared at him, hurt. I had never seen him this angry and he looked almost unrecognizable. He stared back at me when suddenly, something seemed to register in him and his shoulders slumped forward. The anger didn't leave him but there was a new weariness to it.
"Fine," he muttered, his eyes refusing to meet mine, "I'll indulge you." And he started back towards the inn. I wasn't quite sure of him yet so I jumped in front of him again, wanting to look into his eyes and know that my secret was safe with him.
"Get out of my way, Isabella," Jacob snapped, "before I change my mind." My eyes met his, and although they were still filled with fury, they looked like Jacob's again and I breathed out a sigh of relief. Quietly, I let him go and watched him disappear around the corner. A few moments later, I heard the distant slam of the stable door.
I turned around to see Edward looking at me, his eyes indecipherable. I went up to take his hands in mine, resting my forehead against his chest with a deep sigh, letting out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding all this time. He released his hands from my grasp to wrap his arms around me.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, "I've never seen him so upset. I had no idea he would react like that."
Edward was silent for a moment before he replied, "Of course he would. He loves you."
"I know," I whispered, "Jacob and I grew up together. We've never kept secrets from each other before."
Edward shook his head, "No, Isabella. You're not understanding me. I mean that he is in love with you."
I looked up at him in shock, "Edward, what are you talking about?"
Edward smiled wryly, "It's quite plain to see, Isabella. I can't say I blame him."
I shook my head, "No, that's impossible." My mind railed against the idea that Jacob secretly harbored romantic feelings towards me. I had ever thought of him as a brother and I loved him as such. I didn't want to consider it possible that he felt differently and that I had been ignorant of it for all this time. But even as I tried to deny it, in my heart, I knew that Edward spoke the truth. All those glances in my direction, the new discomfort I felt under his gaze. It all fit, damn it. I had been a fool and my foolishness had hurt my first and oldest friend.
"Isabella," Edward started. I ignored him, squeezing my eyes shut as if willing the last ten minutes to have never have happened.
"Isabella," Edward repeated. I sighed and opened my eyes to look at him.
"If you truly consider him a friend, you need to go find him and talk to him. He deserves an explanation."
I sniffled, nodding in agreement. Edward was right, as usual. I had to go find Jacob. Even if all I wanted to do was hide in mortification of my own ignorance, I owed it to him. If he wanted to rail some more, call me whatever horrible names he could think of, it was my just dessert and his due for how I'd treated him.
"Do you want me to accompany you?" Edward offered.
"No, I should speak with him alone. I fear that your presence may only make it worse," I replied. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of the inn stirring. Quickly, I kissed him.
"It's time for you to go," I urged him, the fear of possible discovery starting to build up again within my chest.
"When shall we meet again?"
I bit my lip. Although Jacob had promised not to tell, the entire situation made me feel uneasy for Edward's safety.
"A fortnight," I finally, reluctantly, said, "Wait for things to settle down. I'll send word by Esme."
"In that case," Edward said, before he bent down to give me a kiss that scorched me from the top of my head to the very tips of my toes. My face was flushed when we parted and my breath came out in quick sharp gasps.
"To last me for the long fortnight," Edward said before he disappeared into the trees.
I struggled to catch my breath as my fingers drifted up to brush against my lips which still tingled from his touch. It was unholy how much I loved this man.
I waited for the flush in my cheeks to go down before I turned to face the inn. I swallowed hard as I gathered up the courage to start heading towards the stables. I knew that whatever was coming would not be pleasant, but it was high time for me to stop burying my head in the sand. My resolve steeled, I smoothed down my cloak and skirts as I started towards the stable door. There were little bits of wood on the ground around it, fallen from the force Jacob had used in slamming the door. I sighed as I pushed it open, peering inside. All was silent except for the soft breathing of the horses.
"Jacob?" I called out. There was no answer. I walked over to the little room where he slept and rapped lightly on the door.
"Jacob?" I called again. Still, there was no answer. I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the wooden boards. Even though all was silent, I knew he was in there. Ever since he was young, whenever he got upset, this is where he would retreat to stew. Only this time, I wasn't in there with him, because I was the one who had hurt him.
"Jacob," I whispered, "please let me in. Please."
"Go away, Isabella."
I sighed in relief. At least he answered. That was always a good sign.
"Please, Jacob. Just let me talk to you," I begged.
"What could you possibly have to say to me?"
"Just let me explain. Everything. You deserve to know everything. No secrets," I replied, "Not anymore. I promise." There was silence for a while and I started to think that Jacob and I would just remain here forever, our feet growing into the floor like old tree roots. But suddenly, the door flew open, making me stumble a little. I looked up to see Jacob glowering at me, arms crossed.
"Explain," he ordered.
Meekly, I asked, "Can I come in and sit down? It's a long story."
Jacob rolled his eyes at me but thankfully, he moved aside to let me by, closing the door behind me as I sat myself down on the one chair in his room. He stood with his back leaning against the door, waiting for me to speak. I looked around the little abode. It had been a while since I was last in here and it seemed as if time had stopped. Nothing in the room had changed; but for the occupants in it, everything had.
"Well?" Jacob prompted.
I looked back at him, took a deep breath, and started telling him everything from the very beginning. I told him about dragging Edward out from that roadside ditch, about hiding him in the stable loft, nursing him back to health. I told him all about the day I found out who the world thought he was and the night I realized it didn't matter what the world thought he was. I told him about the night he appeared at the inn, how he risked discovery to save me from the Redcoats. I told him about Esme, and the night I found out who he really was. I told him about that miserable street in town, and Ben. I told him about Edward's mother and his childhood, and why he became a highwayman. I told him about our secret wedding and how happy I was. I told him about the home he built for us.
I left nothing out. Every thought I had, every feeling I felt in the last year, was laid bare. When I was finally done, the silence was deafening. I was afraid to look at him, afraid of what his reaction would be.
"You hid him right under my nose… for months?!" Jacob finally asked. Although it was quiet, his voice was white hot with fury.
"I had nowhere else to put him," I whispered.
Jacob darkly muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "You should have put him in the ground."
Silence again, and then: "Does Charlie know?"
There was the old familiar guilt again as I barely eked out the one word: "No."
Jacob scoffed. It was another while before he spoke again, but this time, his voice was softer.
"Well, at least I'm not the last to know," he remarked drily.
"I'm sorry, Jacob," I said, looking up at him now, my eyes meeting his. There were so many things I was sorry for, and it wasn't just the fact that I had kept this immense secret from him for months. I could have said it a thousand times and it still wouldn't be enough. He must have seen it in my eyes, because his shoulders stiffened.
"So you know." It wasn't a question. And I didn't have to clarify what he meant. I knew.
"Yes," I responded sadly.
"When?"
"Just now. Edward told me."
"Edward –?! "Jacob started furiously, before stopping, seemingly too angry for words.
"Yes, Edward. He said he didn't blame you."
"I don't need his pity," Jacob shot back.
"I should have realized sooner. I could tell something was different between us. The air had changed. It didn't feel like when we were children anymore, but I didn't see the obvious reason why. I was stupid and blind and I hate that I hurt you. I never meant to. I never wanted to." I hoped he believed me because it was all true. Jacob stared at the dirt floor, scuffing it with the toe of his boot. I waited for him to say something, anything.
Finally: "Would it have mattered?"
"What?"
"If you had figured it out sooner. If you had known. Would it have mattered?"
I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to answer him. I didn't want to lie to him but I also didn't want to hurt him further with a truthful answer.
"Bella," he prompted me.
"Jacob," I finally spoke, hoping that he would just let the subject drop "Whatever I say, it's not going to change anything."
"Tell me," he grabbed my shoulders and shook me gently so that my eyes popped open, straight into his insistent gaze. I looked back at him. No matter how much I hated it, I had to tell him the truth now. He wasn't going to give me any other choice.
"I'm sorry, Jacob."
That was all I could bring myself to say, but it was all I needed to say because he knew what it meant. He slumped against the door like a marionette with the strings cut. It hurt me to see him like this and know that I had done it.
"It's not right, Isabella," he finally said, "He's not good for you."
I looked at him sharply, "Jacob, I'm not a little girl anymore. I think I can decide for myself what's good for me and what's not."
He was silent and I chewed on my lip as I thought about how I was going to say what's been heavy on my mind all throughout this conversation.
"Jacob," I finally said, "I trust you." He didn't answer.
"I know you'd never do anything to hurt me," I continued, "You've always kept my secrets and I've always kept yours.
Jacob looked up now, his eyes intense, "No, Isabella. I would never hurt you. I only ever want what's good for you."
I nodded, relieved. I wanted to tell him how I envisioned the future, how I had faith he would find love yet, and how I saw us all happy together, raising our families together side by side, just as Jacob and I had grown up together, but before I could open my mouth to speak –
"Boy! I need my horse. Where is that bloody stableboy?"
"I have to go," Jacob muttered. Before I could blink, he was gone, leaving me alone in the room. I could still hear them talking out in the stable and I tiptoed over to the door to take a peek through the crack. My blood froze when I saw a flash of red, but as I kept watch, Jacob gave no indication that anything unusual happened this morning. My heartbeat slowed to a more normal pace as I watched him prepare the horse and follow horse and rider out of the stable. All was quiet then and I waited a few more moments to see if anyone was coming back. When no one did, I quietly left my hiding place to start my day.