The Midwife's Revolt (34 page)

42

IT WILL BE apparent to any astute
reader that my joy was Eliza’s misery, but she packed her things and left without a word. At least, I consoled myself, she had seen John. And she had been given every assurance by Colonel Langdon himself that help would be forthcoming. However, Eliza said nothing on the trip home, but sat gazing at some distant point beyond the road, and I did not intrude upon her private thoughts.

Our carriage was just pulling down the bumpy lane to the cottage when I beheld a tan, thin figure wave his arms at us in the summer light. He was loping down through the dunes from the great house, and at the sight of us began to run. He was tall, and as we drew closer I saw that he had a faint blond beard and sandy locks, loose and wavy as a girl’s.

The carriage pulled up to our house at last. It was then I saw the man who had once been my little brother.

How often had I dreamed of him? Despaired of him? Dozens of times. And yet, no power of imagination could have aided me in guessing his fair likeness now.

I jumped down out of the carriage and went running. Harry looked puzzled. Was I so greatly altered? No, it was the light, only the bright summer light, which had cast me in silhouette.

“Harry!” I stopped short of him. Then, knowing it was I for certain, he came flying into my arms.

Oh, to feel my brother’s arms around me! Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood!

I buried my head in his shoulder, felt his thin yet strong arms. He had lost flesh and gained a foot in height since I’d seen him last. Though handsome and strong, he looked as if he had starved. I wished to feed him soon. I shut my eyes and let myself feel his breath and his heartbeat, and we stood there some minutes before I wiped my tears and said, “But it is a hot day. You must be wishing for refreshment.”

Harry laughed. “Indeed, Sister, it is hot. But I am used to hotter.”

I signaled to the coachman to approach the house. Once we had entered and bade the coachman follow with our trunks, I made tea. Eliza declined refreshment and went upstairs to find Martha, which left Harry and me alone together in the parlor.

Harry looked about the parlor and made an ironical face. “Poor sister. The sacrifices you have had to make.”

“Tut!” I said, knowing him to be teasing me, as he always had when we were children. I found his behavior reassuring, for it told me he had not changed greatly.

“Well, you shall fare better by and by,” he hinted, eyeing the rough and dirty sacks he had stashed by the door.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Shall I show you, then?”

“Let us rest an hour, so that we may better appreciate your gifts, if such they be.”

“I’ll let you judge, Sister.”

“Oh, Harry! I can’t believe it’s you!” I rose and embraced him once more, nearly toppling us backward in the chair.

He laughed and hugged me to him.

I repaired to my chamber, where I found Eliza and Johnny asleep on my bed. Martha sat by their side, caressing Eliza’s hair.

“Poor thing,” Martha whispered. “I fear she is very low.”

“It’s my fault.”

“No, Lizzie. Who could begrudge you a reunion with your brother?”

I shrugged, lay down next to Eliza and Johnny, and soon joined them both in slumber.

When I awoke, I was alone in the chamber. I washed my face, took salt to my teeth, combed my hair, and availed myself of the chamber pot, too impatient to slip out to the necessary.

Harry and Martha were below, chatting gaily, he regaling her and Eliza with his tales of the pirate’s life.

“And dost thou wish to see thy bounty now?” He bowed toward me.

“Indeed I do.” I laughed. “But Harry, I’m alarmed.”

“Oh, don’t be,” he said. “We divided it all fair and square, with the lion’s share sent off to His Excellency for the troops. And Sister, you mustn’t call me Harry any more. I am all grown up now. My mates call me Henry.”

“Pardon me,” I intoned facetiously. “But I will call you Harry. I dislike the name Henry, which will suit you perfectly when you are a toothless old man.”

“Let us see what you have, then,
Harry
,” Martha said impatiently, for she had been waiting for hours while I slept.

“Your maid is a prickly one,” he said, turning to me. Then he pivoted and bowed to her, saying, “Here we go, Your Bossiness.”

Martha had already known Harry for two days, and I felt a slight envy that they had already established a teasing familiarity with one another.

Eliza smiled wanly, clutching Johnny to her. Martha merely scowled.

Can I explain the delight we felt, even Eliza, at having a man in the house? Can I describe my delight in having this dear, handsome, vigorous relation? I cannot. But perhaps I can begin to describe the almost instant camaraderie that sprang up between my fair brother and my friends:

Johnny gripped his mother’s shoulder and his green eyes gazed with curiosity at Harry while I dragged the sacks from the door to the center of the parlor. Eliza caught my eye, and she smiled as best she could for my delight.

Harry now splayed himself out upon the floor, the first sack between his two long legs. He unloosed the rope about the sack’s neck and began to lift the contents out. As he did so, he looked at each item, held it up, and announced its entrance into the world like a newborn babe. Out they came, to my and Martha’s unending chorus of exclamations.

“Two pounds Demerara sugar,” he announced, setting the paper-wrapped block aside.

“Ooh!”

“Coffee. Jamaican. Four pounds.”

“Ah!”

“Bohea tea. Two pounds.”

“It cannot be true!” Eliza blurted, clasping her hands together.

“Calico. Twelve yards.”

“Martha, only think of it!” I said. “With such fabric we can make new frocks for all three of us.”

All the while, my handsome brother continued to laugh good-naturedly at us. When he came to the bottom of the first sack, he tossed it aside and asked, “Shall I open the second sack, then?”

To cries of “Yes!” and “Don’t stop now!” Harry untied the neck of the second sack and resumed his recitation.

“Ten pounds of wheat flour.”

“But it can’t be,” I said, amazed, for not even the Quincys had such a quantity of flour. The entire North Parish had not so much.

“Yes, it can and
is
.” He smiled at me. Seeing my delighted, childish face, he bent to kiss me.

The second sack included salt pork, hard cheese, a dozen oranges, raisins, and fourteen pounds sterling.

At the sight of the oranges, I rose.

“I shall give Star an orange. He will love it. I myself have not had one since our dear mother was alive.”

“Oh, Sister,” Harry called, glancing sideways at Martha, “when I tell you my stories you won’t believe me. I shall tell of a place where oranges grow so thick on the trees you could just reach up and pick one any time you like. And lemons, too.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll make you an orange cake,” I said exultantly, “and shall invite the Quincys. It will be a homecoming celebration.”

“I accept without hesitation.” He bowed facetiously, his sandy curls flopping over his face.

I smiled. “Yes, I must go to them shortly and tell them they’re welcome tomorrow evening.”

“They have been very kind,” he agreed. “These past three nights I have enjoyed such comfort as I have not had in many years.”

“Perhaps you would like to remain there?” I inquired. He might prefer having Dr. Franklin’s room overlooking the dunes (so-called for it being the doctor’s room when he visited) rather than the dairy overlooking the cheese.

“Oh, no,” he said, seeing he had wounded me, though the wound was but a slight one. “I would rather sleep on a dirt floor and drink that hard Liberty tea of yours than be away from you now, sweet Lizzie.”

“In that case, you shall be very happy here.”

With that, I ran to the barn, calling, “Star! Look what I have for you!” My brother left to get his things from the great house and to invite the Quincys to dine with us on the morrow.

Before he left, I shouted to him, “Oh, Harry—kindly ask the Quincys to let Abigail know you are arrived, and that she’s welcome to join us tomorrow.”

“Abigail? You mean Mrs. John Adams? Why, I’ve already met her,” he informed me, much to my surprise. “She came just yesterday, to glean news of you from Martha.”

“Well, then,” I amended, “if the Quincys could but extend her the invitation
. . .
”

He nodded his reassurance and was off.

Harry ended up staying with the Quincys for an hour or so, having entered into a conversation with Colonel Quincy about the progress of the war, while I returned to my friends.

I found only Martha. Eliza was feeding Johnny.

“How like you him?” I asked her as we worked by the small fire, preparing supper. We were used to delaying our gratification and didn’t even think to avail ourselves of our treasure trove.

“He is sweet-natured and also giving, like you,” she said simply.

“And quite handsome, too, don’t you find?”

Martha blushed a deep crimson color. Then she sought to change the subject. “Is he much changed, Lizzie?” she asked after taking up a potato to peel.

“Oh, yes. I should not have known him. He was a boy when I said good-bye to him. And he looks poorly nourished, though none of his cheer has diminished.”

“Know you how long he plans to stop?”

“Presumably some weeks, at least.”

“Where shall we put him? He’s tall.” She spoke the words as if discussing the arrival of a new loom.

I considered. “He may have a pallet in the parlor if he wishes, but I imagine he shall prefer the dairy, as it has a door.”

“Yes. I should say that’s the best plan. That way, he will have protection against Johnny’s crying as well.”

“He’s said nothing about Johnny. Do you think he noticed?”

Martha knew to what I referred.

“Certainly.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” I nodded. Harry had seen the world now. I felt some envy. As a privateer who had traveled with a rough lot, he could not still be naive of the world’s ways. He must have seen many people who looked like Johnny, especially in the West Indies.

Eliza entered then and took to helping us clear the dairy and prepare a bed for my brother. She seemed grateful for something to do.

The following morning, when we all awoke after a good night’s sleep, I sat with my brother enjoying my first cup of real tea in some months. Eliza was off in a corner of the kitchen, feeding Johnny porridge. Martha had gone to feed the animals.

I turned to my brother and asked, “Am I much altered, Harry?”

“Indeed you are,” he said. “I should not have recognized you had you not thrown your arms around me.”

“Have I grown quite repulsive?”

“Repulsive? I should say not. You’ve grown lean. And there’s a sadness I wish were not there.” Harry reached his hand out for mine. “Lizzie, I’m truly sorry I was not there to condole with you at Jeb’s death. By all accounts, he was a good and honorable man.”

“He was a fool,” I said.

Harry looked at me inquiringly. “In these times, I suppose we all must be either fools or cowards. Is there much in between?”

“Are you saying you’re a fool as well, then?”

“Far bigger a fool than Jeb.” He smiled.

I considered my brother’s words.

“Yes, I suppose you are an even greater fool. See that you survive. For, now that I have you again, I could not bear to lose you.”

“That is in our Maker’s hands, but I will do my best.”

“Oh, Harry.” I embraced him warmly, for our banter belied my truer feelings.