On her last morning in Brandywine Valley, Sara woke up to a cold, dark sky. Outside everything was quiet; it was too early for the birds. The day before, Sara had packed, cleaned, and bid farewell to the little brown house that her son had been born in. Now she was dressing her drowsy baby and preparing a quick, light breakfast. By candlelight, they ate mush, buttered bread, and drank warm milk.
"You better go on down and say your good-byes," Gil said once the dishes had been washed and the packed into the wagon.
Sara nodded and laid a sleeping Thomas on her shoulder, it was too early for him to wake up and he chose to go back to sleep. Carefully, she walked through the cool, dewy grass and down the hill to her aunt's house. Aunt Catherine had a candle in the window and from outside the door, Sara could see her aunt peeking into the oven at something. Sara hesitated with her hand on the knob. There was going to be a fair amount of tears shared between the two and she wanted to prepare herself. With a deep breath, Sara opened the door. The first thing she noticed was that the air smelled of spicy ginger cookies. The smell brought back memories of coming inside from a swim and grabbing a warm cookie off of a plate that was resting on the table. As if Aunt Catherine could read her thoughts, she set down a platter of cookies and smiled her warm smile.
"You're starting early," Aunt Catherine commented.
Sara helped herself to a cookie from the platter. "Yes," she answered. "Gil wants us to get settled before nightfall."
Sara noticed that her aunt's eyes were glistening from tears that she had shed earlier. She wished with all her might that her sweet aunt wouldn't cry. Aunt Catherine had always been the strong one, and if she cried, then Sara was bound too.
"I packed you a basket," Aunt Catherine said, motioning to the brown, wicker basket resting on the checked tablecloth.
Sara lifted up the cheese-cloth that was covering the basket and looked inside. There was a browned loaf of bread, a yellow ball of cheese, a bright yellow ball of butter, a tied bundle of cold chicken, and a tied handkerchief of ginger cookies. Sara felt the tears swell behind her eyelids and threatened to run over.
"Oh," Sara gasped. "Thank you."
It was all she could say, for she had started to cry. From her pocket she pulled out her laced handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.
"Now, visit often and take good care of my little great nephew. I'm going to miss you," Aunt Catherine said as she dabbed her own eyes.
Sara nodded. "Once Gil and I get everything settled, you are going to have to visit us. I'll write you once we get in," she promised.
John, his face still red from scrubbing it, jumped down the stairs and his immediately went to the platter of fresh cookies. In a way, the way he stared at the cookies reminded her of a hungry wolf looking at a herd of sheep. Quick as a flash his hand shot out and grabbed the cookie nearest to him. Aunt Catherine, who had been watching him with a frown since he came down the stairs, took it out of his hand faster than he could blink.
"You know better than that, you little scalawag," his mother said. "You'll ruin your breakfast."
"Oh, Mama," John complained.
"Never mind," Aunt Catherine said. "Hug your cousin and bid her farewell."
John walked over to Sara and hugged her, being careful not to wake Thomas. Sara gave him a kiss on the cheek and for once, he did not wipe it off.
"I'll miss you, John," Sara said to her little cousin.
"I'll miss you too," he replied.
Without even hesitating, John thrust his hand out and snatched another cookie off the platter. Aunt Catherine tried to grab him, but he ducked underneath her and banged out the front door. Thomas Jumped awake and cried until Sara's soothing put him back to sleep.
"Oh, I'll give him a whipping he'll never forget," Aunt Catherine said in a whisper.
Though it was chaotic, Sara was going to miss John and his mischievous ways. When she was younger, before she knew how to behave, she had been just as mischievous as he.
Sara couldn't help but laugh at John's wickedness. "I better be along," she said as she stood.
Aunt Catherine gave her another hug and kissed Thomas's head. With her free hand, Sara lifted the basket. It was heavier than she had thought, but she managed. When she made her way back to the wagon, Uncle Jim was standing there. He was holding John by the scruff of his neck.
"I see you caught a hoodlum," Gil joked as he took the basket from Sara and set it behind the wagon seat.
"Any rascal that runs from the house like a animal has to be up to no good," Uncle Jim said. "I bet Cathy will have a few things to say."
Sara bit her lip and did not say what he had done. She would let Aunt Catherine deal with him because she was his mother.
"Good bye, Sara," Uncle Jim said, releasing John.
John stayed where he was, for he knew not to cross his father. Uncle Jim had always been a kind man, but he was stern and demanded respect. Sara hugged her Uncle and gave him a kiss on his rough cheek.
"Good bye, Uncle Jim," Sara said, the tears threatening to run over for a second time. "We will be settled soon enough. You will have to visit our new home."
Uncle Jim gave a nod. "We will make time for a visit," he turned to Gil. "Take care of my niece."
Gil nodded. "I will, sir," he said as he climbed up into the wagon.
Uncle Jim took Thomas while he helped Sara climb up into the seat beside him. Once she was settled, Uncle Jim handed Thomas up. Tied to the back of the wagon was Sara's pony, Star, and a black spotted milk cow. Asleep, curled into a ball, was the little barn kitten that Sara had picked out of the litter to keep. They didn't take any chickens, for in town there would be plenty of chickens.
"Well," Gil said. "Good bye then."
He shook the reins softly and chirruped the horses. Hank took his place beside the wagon when he saw that it had started to move. He seemed to know that they were leaving the little brown house and onto a new place. The horses that Gil drove were a perfectly matched pair of black horses that Gil had bought for a fair price. They were both beautiful and rode gently. As the wagon rode on, Sara turned to look behind her at the farm. Aunt Catherine's house, with the candle still in the window, grew smaller and smaller. When they drove over the hill, she could see the farm no more. They rode through the town of Brandy Wine and Gil waved to people who were wishing them good luck. Soon, the light in the sky grew lighter. The birds began to wake up and the air grew warmer. Thomas stirred n Sara's arms and opened his sleep eye as if to say 'Why are we moving?'. Soon, the town of Brandy Wine was behind them and there was nothing left but the long, fifteen mile drive to Philadelphia.
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When they were an hour into the ride, Thomas grew restless. He was used to getting on the floor and hitching around, though he wasn't good at it quiet yet. Sara gave him a silver spoon to occupy him. For a moment, he was interested in his upside down reflection, but soon grew bored and threw it down with a thunk.
"Oh, Thomas," Sara sighed.
She rooted around in her satchel until she found his little, wooden giraffe. She handed it to him with hopes that he would be satisfied, but he threw it down without hesitation.
"What is it you want, son?" Sara asked him.
Thomas didn't understand. He looked at Sara like she was supposed to perform a miracle.
"Give him something to eat?" Gil suggested.
Sara uncovered the basket that Aunt Catherine had prepared and cautiously handed the baby an orange ginger cookie. Truthfully, she was afraid he would choke because he wasn't used to eating much solid food yet. Sara had to stop milking him because his new, little teeth hurt her delicate skin. Thomas took the cookie in his chubby fist and looked at it with wonder. He put in his mouth and his blue eyes grew to be as big as little saucers.
"Is it good?" Gil asked him.
Thomas sucked on the cookie and leaned back into Sara's bosom. With the baby satisfied, Sara decided that it was time to strike up a conversation.
"When do you start to work?" she asked.
Gil thought for a moment. "Well, I will need to prepare for class soon, but I will get paid at the end of every month," he said.
"How much?" Sara asked before she caught herself.
Gil chuckled. "How does four hundred pounds a month sound to you?" he asked.
Sara was in awe. Never in her life had she had so much money. She did the mental math and concluded that with 4 months of teaching, Gil would make over a thousand pounds.
"Oh Gil, how exciting," she said.
Gil nodded. "Yes," he said. "We'll be able to buy a buggy and good things to eat."
They stopped for dinner halfway to Philadelphia. They ate the delicious cold chicken and buttered bread. After the small meal was over and the horses watered, they rode the rest of the way. Sara knew they had entered Philadelphia when the road went from dirt, to cobble-stone. The first building Sara saw was new. It was still a skeleton, but it looked like it was going to be a church. At town square, Gil turned off of Main Street onto Third Street, the street their house was on. The trees that grew along the walk ways shaded the street, so the sun was beating down on top of them. Soon Gil stopped in front of the familiar stone house and Sara sighed. This was her new home and there was no turning back.