Authors: Lori Copeland
Ashley glanced expectantly at Aaron.
“You are privy to far too much information,” he said
quietly. “If you value honesty and truth, you will swear a vow on the Bible not
to reveal anything of what you hear upon pain of death.”
After stepping forward, Ashley placed her hand on the Bible
and repeated the oath with the men. She felt like a complete fool, but she did
it anyway.
Once the ritual was completed, Ashley moved back to the
stove to warm herself as the men sat around the table and began to converse in
low tones.
Easing nearer the table, Ashley strained to hear what the
men were saying.
“The time grows near,” Dr. Warren said gravely. “Boats for
moving troops have been seen on the Charles River, and English scouts have been
observed on the road to Lexington and Concord.”
“You have this on good source?” Church asked.
“Aye. Rumor is spreading fast. A quick-witted stable boy
overheard two officers making plans. We must be careful, but watchful too if we
are to avoid being caught unaware.”
A feeling of sadness came over Ashley as she suddenly
remembered what she’d read about Dr. Warren.
Joseph Warren had delivered a Boston Massacre oration in
1772 in the Old South Church after John Adams had declined the invitation.
Though his speech inspired no particular fervor, he delivered a second one in
March 1775. It hardly seemed fair that he would never live to see his efforts
in the revolution realized. History recorded that Dr. Joseph Warren would be
killed in June, at the age of thirty-four, in the Battle of Bunker Hill—only a
few weeks away.
In spite of their treatment of her, tears suddenly stung her
eyes. These men were so fervent, so dedicated, so determined to do what they felt
was right. It was sad that so many of them would give their lives for the
cause.
Her gaze traveled to Church, and she stiffened, remembering
suddenly why his name had bothered her so. Why, he was a—
“Mistress Wheeler.”
Ashley glanced up. “Yes?”
Aaron walked toward her, his business concluded for the
moment. “Paul has asked that we share the evening meal with his family.”
“Oh.” Ashley wondered how Rachel Revere would feel about
having two unexpected guests at her dinner table. “I suppose we leave by the window?”
A smile played at the corners of Aaron’s mouth. “It would
seem that is the only way out.”
Sighing, Ashley got to her feet. She was learning that
keeping company with American patriots wasn’t easy.
“Why, gracious me! Who have we here?”
Ashley jerked awake when the horse stopped in Revere’s yard
and Aaron slid off. Trying to blink the grit out of her eyes, she realized that
she must have dozed off.
Yawning, she became aware of a woman not much older than
herself coming down the steps. Rachel Revere. Ashley couldn’t tear her eyes
away from the eighteenth-century woman.
“Sorry to intrude upon you this way, Rachel, but Paul
assured me that you wouldn’t mind.” Aaron swung out of the saddle, then turned
to help Ashley down.
Their eyes met as he lowered her to the ground. Ashley could
have sworn she saw the first hint of compassion in the gray depths. His touch
warmed her, and she had an inexplicable urge to linger in his arms.
She swayed as he released her, and she reached out to steady
herself on his arm. Her knees were weak, and she felt faint with hunger after
her ordeal.
“Put another chair at the table, Mother. We have company,”
Paul called as he handed the reins to one of the young boys who bounded out of
the house at the sound of company arriving.
“So I see, dear.” Rachel viewed Ashley’s weary state with
motherly concern. “Good heavens, child, you look exhausted! What have these two
pea gooses been doing with you?”
Both pea gooses had been rude, she wanted to say, but
didn’t.
“Mistress Wheeler is going to take dinner with us tonight,”
Paul said as he walked over to steal a welcoming kiss from his wife. The two
exchanged a brief, intimate smile before he gave her bottom an affectionate pat
and moved on.
A small child clung to Rachel’s skirt, and several more were
running around in the yard. It looked as if school had let out, with all the
yelping and shouting, but Ashley supposed that’s the way any household with
this many children would look.
“Dinner’s on the table,” Rachel promised as she turned and
walked back to the house. “I hope you like mutton and journey cakes!”
Taking her by the hand, Aaron led Ashley up the back steps
to the Reveres’ large kitchen.
As they entered the homey dwelling, the mouth-watering smell
of meat roasting over a spit in the fireplace nearly overwhelmed Ashley. After
the purge, she thought she’d never be able to eat again, but she found herself
looking forward to the meal.
“Paul, I’m sure Mistress Wheeler would enjoy some hot water
and a brush,” Rachel called as she busied about the kitchen, swatting
youngsters’ fingers away from the large bowls of food sitting on the cupboard.
“All right, Mama. Just let me get my boots off.”
“Deborah.” Rachel motioned to an older girl as she unhooked
a large pot from a jiggin iron. “Fetch Mistress Wheeler some water, and be
quick about it.”
The girl ran off to fetch the water as Rachel called after
her. “And bring my brush and comb when you come back!” She turned back to
Ashley, smiling. “Sara will show you upstairs where you can tidy up.”
Minutes later, Ashley found herself alone in the small
bedroom shared by Paul and Rachel. There was hot water in the pitcher, and a
coarse white washcloth and soap setting on the washstand.
Young Sara disappeared, then came back a few minutes later
to provide a clean dress for Ashley. Overcome with gratitude, Ashley tried to
thank the young woman, but Sara flushed and backed out of the room saying it
really was no trouble.
When the door closed behind the young girl, Ashley turned
and surveyed herself in the clouded looking glass hanging over the washstand.
She winced, deciding that she’d never looked worse. After picking up the bar of
soap, she scrubbed every inch of her body, and was relieved to find she was not
lice infested; then she dried herself on the coarse linen cloth that smelled of
sunshine and fresh air.
When she went downstairs later, her hair had been brushed to
a lustrous sheen, and she was wearing Sara’s simple cotton dress. The green and
white gingham was a bit loose in the waist and bodice and it tended to gap open
if she wasn’t careful, but at least it was clean—and free of vermin.
Rachel bustled by, carrying a large platter of mutton and a
bowl of carrots. “Oh, my, you are a lovely one.”
“Thank you,” Ashley murmured, feeling awkward in the
situation. By now Paul and Aaron would have explained her presence to Rachel,
and Rachel would know that the men suspected her of being a spy.
“Come, supper’s waiting,” Rachel coaxed.
Aaron and Paul were already seated at the table, deep in
conversation. The men seemed oblivious to the state of confusion as the
children scrambled for seats.
Smiling, Ashley recalled that with each additional child,
Paul simply added another chair around the table. Her smile widened upon seeing
the various designs his artistic nature had crafted.
Aaron glanced up as she entered the room, and his features
softened when he saw her improved appearance.
Meeting his gaze shyly, Ashley blushed as his eyes skimmed
over her. She found herself wondering if he was involved with a woman, and was
startled by the sharp pang of jealousy the disturbing thought brought.
Rachel patted the back of the chair opposite Aaron. “Sit
here, Mistress Wheeler.”
“Please, call me Ashley,” she murmured as she slid into the
seat and prepared to look as unobtrusive as possible.
“Ashley? What a lovely name! Were you named after your
mother?”
“No, Mom just heard the name in a movie once and liked it.”
Rachel’s smile wavered ever so slightly. “A movie?”
“Yes, it’s….” Ashley lowered her gaze to her plate. “It’s
not important.”
Rachel returned to the kitchen for a pan of journey cakes as
if it didn’t matter to her that Ashley-what-a-lovely-name was a demented
British spy.
Folding her hands on her lap, Ashley let her gaze roam
hungrily over the burdened table. The scent of sizzling mutton roast and boiled
potatoes reminded her of how long it had been since she’d had a decent meal.
The thick slices of cornbread and freshly churned butter were like ambrosia to
her growling stomach.
Rachel took her seat, and Paul motioned for the children to
quiet down.
The noise died away, and Paul turned to Aaron and said, “It
is good to have friends share our meal. We shall pray.”
After joining hands, Paul said the prayer, asking the Lord
to watch over them, particularly in the perilous days ahead.
When the prayer was finished, Ashley saw Rachel squeeze
Paul’s hand lovingly.
Bedlam broke loose as the adults’ plates were filled, then
the children’s, and everyone turned their attention to the business of eating.
Once her initial hunger was satisfied, Ashley began to pay
more attention to what was going on around her.
Turning to the small child seated next to her, Ashley
smiled. “And what’s your name?”
The boy lifted his fork, took careful aim, and let loose. A
piece of hominy came sailing through the air and hit Ashley in the middle of
the forehead.
“Joshua! Stop playing with your food. Mary, see to your
brother,” Rachel reprimanded sharply.
“Yes, Mama.” Mary reached over and spooned a large gob of
potatoes into the boy’s mouth.
Discreetly wiping the back of her hand across her forehead,
Ashley turned her attention to the friendly bickering going on between Paul and
Aaron. Judging by their amicable banter, they had been good friends for a long
time.
“Ah, we’ll beat these Britishers as quickly as we whipped
the French,” Paul joked as he buttered his third piece of journey cake.
Rachel shook her head, an indulgent smile playing across her
features as she passed the meat platter to Aaron. “Pay no heed to him, Aaron.
You know how he prattles.”
Aaron laughed, and Ashley decided she liked the sound. It
was deep and masculine and sent little shivers fluttering through her. He was
so powerfully attractive that she found herself just staring at him.
“But I agree, Rachel. It only took seventy years to send the
French back home. We should turn the British back in a good deal less time.”
Paul good-naturedly joined in Rachel and Aaron’s laughter.
Ashley forked another potato, smiling as she silently shared
their lighthearted banter. The struggle between England and France in the New
World had begun in 1690, lasted through four colonial wars, ending with the
French and Indian Wars.
“Of course,” Paul said. “It ended because they heard I was
prepared to join the fray.” He laughed heartily, recalling his youthful years.
“When news spread that French soldiers along with the Indians were attacking
the borders of the colonies, I clapped my hat on my head and set off in search
of excitement. Being twenty-one, I was prepared to defend Fort William Henry
single-handed, if necessary. But alas, I spent the summer sitting around,
cleaning my rifle, polishing my sword, and swatting flies! There were thousands
of flies at Lake George the summer of fifty-six!”
Aaron laughed. “And it still took seven years for the French
to realize the danger they were in!”
“Well, think how long the skirmish would have lagged on had
I not determined to go!”
The men shared another laugh, and everyone at the table
joined in as if something funny indeed had just transpired.
“Ah, ’twas a wonderful time,” Paul recalled, his face alight
with memories as he reached for the mug of white wine Rachel was pouring.
Ashley felt a sense of near envy as she listened to the
companionable bantering. For the first time in her life, she saw how nice it
would be to have a large, warm family like this one to come home to every
night.
By the time the meal was finished, Ashley’s head was
nodding.
“We must go.” Aaron’s voice came to her through a drowsy
mist. “She grows exceedingly weary.”
Laying her hand on Aaron’s shoulder, Rachel said softly,
“You must treat her kindly, even though you suspect the worse.”
“Rachel, have you ever known me not to treat a woman
kindly?” Aaron rebuked.
Rachel took an affectionate swat at him. “I have known you
to be the worst of scoundrels, Aaron Kenneman. Now see that you treat this
lovely creature with respect!”
Aaron turned to gaze at Ashley, whose head by now had nearly
fallen to her empty plate.
“I will treat her kindly,” he conceded.
Stirring, Ashley murmured, “Thank you for the wonderful meal
and for lending me a clean dress, Rachel.” Ashley thrust her hand blindly into
her bag, fumbling for the object she wanted. “I’d like you to have this.” She extended
her blue Cover Girl compact to Paul’s wife.
“Oh, ’tis too much,” Rachel cried, her eyes growing wide at
the lovely offering.
Lifting her head, Ashley smiled sleepily. “Let me show you
how it works.” She snapped open the lid, displaying the small mirror and
pressed powder. “See? You carry it with you to powder your nose. It isn’t much,
but you’ve been so nice...”
While Rachel oohed and ahhed, the children’s eyes sparkled
with delight as they gathered around their mother to view the fancy gift.
“By jove, ’tis a striking trinket!” Paul vowed as he perused
the offering that could be found at any twenty-first century discount store for
$5.79.
And “by jove,” it wasn’t bad for a spur-of-the-moment gift,
Ashley realized when she saw the way Rachel’s face gleamed for having received
such a wondrous token.