I was up before the sun rose the next morning. Baking day. Pappa was moving around in the main room, stoking the fire. I dressed quickly and went out to prepare his breakfast. We ate hurriedly, then I put a piece of burning wood from the fireplace into the oven and the kindling inside slowly flickered to life. I shut the door to the oven to let it get very hot.
Pappa informed me that he had to go to the tannery in town for a piece of hide. After he left I tidied the house and went outdoors to muck out the cow pen. I had finished the filthy job and was scrubbing my hands in a bucket of soapy water by the fireplace when there was a knock at the door. Wiping my hands on my apron, I answered the door and was surprised to see Mistress Reeves standing outside, bundled up against the cold, a long scarf covering most of her face.
“Come in, Mistress Reeves,” I said, stepping aside so she could come through the doorway. “How can I be of service this morning?”
“I fear my husband is feeling poorly today. I’ve come to see if your father has a remedy that could help him. Is he in the apothecary?”
“No. He went to the tannery. Perhaps I can be of service?”
She looked at me doubtfully. “I do not think so.” she answered. “I will return when he is at home. When do you expect him?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”
“Very well. I will be back later today.” She nodded her thanks, turned, and left without another word.
I was eager to start the baking and was already several minutes behind schedule. I mixed and kneaded, punched and shaped, until there were several loaves of bread ready to go into the oven. I also prepared a pumpkin pudding and a bean porridge. Then I threw a handful of cornmeal into the oven to see if it was hot enough; the cornmeal started to burn.
“It’s ready,” I announced to myself. I hastily and carefully withdrew the smoldering wood from the oven and put it in the fireplace. Then, working very quickly, I put the loaves and the pudding into the oven and closed the door.
Baking, as usual, took most of the day, but I enjoyed it because it reminded me of Mamma. She had taught me to bake and she had taught me well. She had been a wonderful baker herself.
Mistress Reeves returned during the afternoon. I had been thinking about her visit while I baked, and I had decided what to do if she came back before Pappa did.
I would lie to her. I didn’t see any need for the pastor to suffer needlessly when I knew exactly how to help him. He was such a nice man, and I felt sorry for him.
When I opened the door to her, I invited her into our main room. “Your father is home?” she asked.
“He did return, but I’m afraid he had to leave again. When he was here I told him about the pastor’s malady and he told me exactly what to give you to treat it. Come along and I’ll get it for you.” I beckoned her to follow me through the room to the apothecary door. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. It smelled of something strange in the shop—the outdoors, Pappa’s pipe smoke, and a tangy scent I couldn’t place. It wasn’t unpleasant, just different. For the first time since Mamma’s disappearance, the scent in the apothecary did not remind me of her.
I went to one of the shelves containing numerous small brown bottles. Though some of the older bottles were labeled in Mamma’a dainty script, most were labeled in Pappa’s hand. Mamma had known as much about herbs and apothecary as Pappa, and I had spent innumerable hours at their sides learning about medicines and remedies. Once Mamma disappeared I had taken her place by helping Pappa, so I knew well my way around the apothecary.
“Here is some dandelion.” I poured a good amount of crushed dandelion into a paper packet and handed it to Mistress Reeves. “If you make a tea with it, that should bring some relief to the pastor. I will also send you home with some dried spearmint, too, which is helpful in cases of stomachache.”
“Please tell your father I said thank you.” Mistress Reeves paid for her remedies and left.
By evening I had enough brown bread and pudding for the two of us for the upcoming week and the house smelled wonderful. I hurried to prepare supper, wondering where Pappa was and why he wasn’t in the apothecary. He couldn’t still be at the tannery. Several times I opened the door separating the house from the apothecary shop, hoping he had come back and returned to work. But the shop was empty.
Eventually he came home, his cheeks bright with color, a smile on his face, his hair sticking out in all directions, and smelling of seawater. “How was baking day, Sarah?” he asked cheerfully.
“All was well,” I replied, turning to retrieve a potato for his supper from the ashes in the fireplace. “Have you been out in the cold for a long while?”
“That I have,” he responded. “After I visited the tannery I had to meet a fellow down at the bay. It is quite windy down there today.”
“Oh?” I tried to affect a casual interest. “Why did you have to go all the way down there?” Why couldn’t he conduct business in the shop, as he normally did?
“I was conducting a bit of business,” Pappa said. Then he changed the subject. “I chanced to meet old Captain Eli this afternoon. I’m afraid he becomes more odious every time I see him.” Pappa shook his head.
Captain Eli Barnett wasn’t a captain any longer—he had retired from a life spent on the sea and lived in Town. He had attempted to maintain a rescue station along the shore to watch for ships in distress, but his love of drink had made it impossible to maintain the station dependably. A well-known teller of tales, he took much pleasure in sharing his more ribald stories in polite company, embarrassing the women and angering their husbands. I was a bit afraid of him, with his grizzled face and his lewd, toothy grin.
If I had hoped to learn more about the business Pappa had been conducting in the darkened apothecary shop the previous night, I was to be disappointed. He did not address it at all, nor did he explain further what business had necessitated a trip to the bay. He dug into his supper with gusto, remarking on how good the food tasted when one was very hungry. It was clear he would entertain no questions from me regarding his unusual activities of the day and the previous evening. I told him about Mistress Reeves’ visit, and he told me sternly that I should not have lied to her. But the corners of his mouth twitched up when he spoke and I knew he was not angry with me.
After supper Pappa went into the shop and returned a moment later with his large ledger, a quill, a bottle of ink, and the slate he used for calculations. He opened the book on the table and began making notes in chalk on the slate. I tried to peer over his shoulder to see what he was writing, but he hunched over the table, his back preventing me from seeing anything.
What secrets was he keeping?
“Pappa, can I get you anything before I retire?” I asked.
He glanced up at me with a startled look, almost as if he had forgotten my presence. “Oh. No, my dear. Goodnight.”
I went into the bedchamber and lay down, listening for him to return the ledger to the shop, but all I could hear was the continued scratching of chalk on slate and eventually I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke earlier than usual the next morning and slipped quietly into the main room where the embers of the fire glowed dull scarlet in the darkness. Pappa slept on his mat facing the fireplace, breathing deeply. I felt an overwhelming urge to see if the ledger was still on the table. Stealing quietly across the floor, I crept to the table and felt for the big book.
It was there. I was faced with a dilemma: should I light a candle and try to see what was written on the pages? Or should I return to bed and wait for Pappa to tell me about his business dealings when he was ready?
I chose to return to bed. There was no way to light a candle without reaching it into the fireplace embers. That would surely wake Pappa and I didn’t want him to catch me at something I shouldn’t be doing.
I lay in bed for as long as I could, then dressed quickly in the cold room. Peering around the coverlet separating the bedchamber from the main room, I could see dusky gray light filtering through the window. The sun would soon be up, and Pappa with it. I wondered if I could see any of the writing on the ledger in the dim light of predawn. I determined to try.
I crept lightly and silently toward the table, checking several times to make sure Pappa was still breathing deeply in slumber. I bent over the ledger until my nose was practically touching the rough paper. I could barely make out his heavy handwriting on the hand-drawn line, but a little frisson of shock went through me when I saw the number under the “total” column, the right-most column on the page. It was quite a large number. Not a number an apothecary should be showing on a business ledger. A merchant, yes. But a herbalist, no.
What is going on? I wondered.
Pappa stirred suddenly, moving to face away from the fireplace. I stepped back hurriedly, my heart beating faster. I knew I shouldn’t have looked, but I couldn’t resist. And now I was left with more questions than answers. I smiled ruefully, knowing Mistress Reeves would scold me for sinning against God and against my earthly father. I soundlessly prayed for forgiveness and slipped out the door to milk the cows.
When I returned Pappa was awake. He had taken up his straw sleeping mat from the floor and placed it under the bench where it resided during the day. I noticed the ledger was gone.
“I need you to mend an apron for me today, Sarah,” Pappa said while he ate his morning meal.
“I’ll do it first thing,” I told him with a smile. I began to worry that my face or voice might somehow arouse Pappa’s suspicion, that it might in some way convey to him that I had knowledge of the ledger which I should not have had.
But Pappa didn’t say anything else other than to thank me for working on his apron and to bid me goodbye when he went to work in the apothecary.
There were several customers that morning. When Pappa came into the main room for his noonday meal, he explained why.
“Sarah, I have spoken to quite a few people this morning, all suffering from a similar illness. I do not want you going into the village right now. I want you to stay in the house where you’ll be safe.”
“What kind of illness?” I asked.
“An ague that produces cough, chills, and difficulty breathing. It has taken hold in a few homes in Town and promises to spread to affect others.” He gave me a stern look and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing Patience that day.
While I was in the apothecary that afternoon helping Pappa with his orders, Mistress Reeves returned to purchase another tincture for her husband. He was still suffering from stomach troubles, she told Pappa, and needed something to give him strength so he could work on his sermon for that week. I was glad I had told Pappa about her visit the previous day.
“I’m quite worried about him,” Mistress Reeves said, her voice quavery. Her eyes looked tired and her mouth was drawn at the corners. Her usual pinched look was made even more severe by the worry etched on her face.
“Do not worry, Mistress Reeves,” Pappa assured her. He reached for a jar of dried chamomile and placed a large pinch of it inside a paper packet. He handed the packet to Mistress. “If he continues to take this with his drink, he should start feeling better soon. How is young Arthur?” he asked, his eyes twinkling as he glanced in my direction. I’m quite sure I blushed at the question.
Mistress Reeves appeared to take no notice. “He is doing quite well, thank you.” she answered. Then she leaned in closer and spoke in a low voice, as if there were people all around who could overhear her. “He is planning to follow in his father’s footsteps in service to God, so we are sending him to England to continue his studies.”
England?
I must have betrayed my surprise, because I looked up and noticed both Pappa and Mistress Reeves staring at me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting back into the house.” I almost tripped in my haste to get to the door leading out of the apothecary, but I caught myself and held my head up as I disappeared from view of my father and Mistress Reeves.
I don’t know why I was surprised to learn about Arthur’s upcoming trip to the land where I was born. I knew what Patience would have said: Ooh! You’ll be returning to England as Mrs. Arthur Reeves! I will miss you so!
But Patience was mistaken. And though I would never be Mistress Arthur Reeves, he was a good person and my friend. I would be sorry to see him leave. I knew from experience what a long and arduous trip it would be across the sea, and I didn’t envy him for it.
Mistress Reeves returned the following day to tell Pappa that her husband was, indeed, feeling better. She asked if there was anything he should be taking to keep the stomach pains at bay. Since I was busy helping Pappa in the apothecary, he instructed me to give Mistress Reeves a small bottle of mint syrup and asked her to give it to him every few hours until the syrup was gone. When she tried to pay Pappa, he refused to take the money.
“You tell Pastor Reeves that I look forward to hearing his sermon this week,” Pappa told her with a smile. “A powerful sermon will be more than enough for my payment.”
Just then the apothecary door opened and Arthur poked his head into the shop.
“Mother? I’m glad I’ve found you.” He came in and closed the door behind him. “Father is asking for you.”
A worried look crossed Mistress Reeves’ face. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing of which I am aware,” Arthur answered. Then he looked toward Pappa and me. “Good afternoon, sir. Hello, Sarah.”
“Hello, Arthur,” I said, then turned back to my work. Pappa reached to shake Arthur’s hand. “How are you doing, young man?” he asked.
Arthur smiled. “I am quite well, sir. I wonder if my mother has told you that I shall be going to England to study at seminary?”
“Indeed, she has,” Pappa answered. He turned to me. “What do you think of that, Sarah? Our own Arthur is going to England!”
Pappa was always interested in hearing of people going to England. Not that he wanted to return—he loved living on this wild, unforgiving cape.
“Congratulations, Arthur,” I said, smiling at him. He smiled at me in return, his eyes dancing, but I noticed a frown crease his mother’s forehead.
“Perhaps you can tell me all about England before I am to leave,” Arthur suggested. Was he talking to my father or to me?
I didn’t respond, in case he meant for my father to answer, but then I noticed it had grown silent in the room and I looked up to find three pairs of eyes on me.
“Oh, yes,” I stammered. “I shall certainly be happy to tell you about England.”
“Shall we go see what your father needs, Arthur?” Mistress Reeves tucked her hand under her son’s arm and gave me an indecipherable look before nodding toward my father and saying, “Thank you for the mint syrup. I shall pass your message along to my husband.” She opened the door and put up her hood, waiting for Arthur to follow her. He smiled at me and Pappa as he joined her. I grinned and waved as he glanced toward us one last time.
“Mistress Reeves doesn’t like me,” I said to Pappa as we worked side-by-side in the cold apothecary.
“What makes you say that?”
I shrugged. “It’s just a feeling I get, I suppose.”
“I think she doesn’t want to lose her son to an apothecary’s daughter.” Pappa’s eyes were smiling.
I must have blushed to my very toes. “Pappa!” I scolded. “I am sure neither Arthur nor Mistress Reeves has any such thing on their minds!”
Pappa merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged, then turned back to his work. “We shall see,” he finally said.
I changed the subject. “Have you heard of anyone else who has come down with the fever?” I asked.
“I believe it is slowing down,” Pappa said. “Only two new people have come in today looking for something that will provide some relief.”
“Are we running low on any supplies?” I asked.
“We are running out of a few things. Several days ago I sent a message to the apothecary in Philadelphia who supplies me with some of my remedies and I hope he sends along replacements soon.”
“It’s strange how quickly you’ve begun to run out of some remedies.” I turned back to pick the leaves from a stem of basil.
My father turned quickly to look at me, but didn’t say anything. Had I said something wrong?
I left him working in the apothecary when it began to get dark. I had late afternoon chores to complete outside and I wanted to get them done before it got too much colder.
Snow swirled in the air as I made my way to the cow pen. I milked the cows with fingers that were growing colder with every pull, then placed the pails by the pen door. I went to the chicken coop and gathered two eggs for Pappa and me to have with our supper. I was going inside with the eggs in my apron pocket and the pails of milk in my hands when I heard a voice whispering my name.
I whirled round, trying to figure out the source of the sound. “Patience?” I spoke into the air.
“No, it’s me. Arthur.” The sky had become the color of a stormy sea. I squinted my eyes to see Arthur.
“Arthur! You scared me! Where are you?” I asked.
“Over here, behind the chicken coop. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I set the milk pails down again and walked over to the chicken coop, where Arthur was standing, hidden in the shadows.
“What are you doing back there?” I asked. I faced my friend with my hands on my hips.
“I wanted to talk with you, but not with your father around.” My senses were immediately alert.
“You know you can speak in front of my father.”
“I think you misunderstand,” Arthur hastened to say.
I didn’t say anything, but lifted my chin higher and raised my eyebrows at him. He probably couldn’t even see me in the gathering darkness.
“I only thought you might like to take a walk with me tomorrow. I would like to talk to you about my trip to England.”
So that was it. He wanted to know about England.
“That would be fine. I can tell you everything I remember. I can go with you early in the afternoon.”
I sensed rather than saw his grin. “I’ll come for you tomorrow in the afternoon, then,” he said, and I heard him turn around. He was gone in an instant.
The next day brought even fewer visitors to the apothecary, and it was a good thing because Pappa had run out of several bottles and medicines he used to make his remedies. I was surprised at the amount that had been used over the days when the ague ran rampant through the village and surrounding farms. I asked him about it during our noonday meal.
“Pappa, you must have treated more people than I realized,” I began. “I had no idea our medicine supply had run so low.”
He seemed not to hear me at first, for he just nodded his head and stared out the window.
“Pappa?” I asked.
He gave himself a little shake and faced me. “Hmm?”
“I was saying that I had no idea we had run so low on medicines.”
“Yes. Well, I’m hoping to get a delivery from Philadelphia tomorrow,” he said. Then he hurriedly finished his meal and left the table.
I had just finished cleaning up from our meal when there came a knock at the door. Casting a quick glance toward the apothecary, I went to the window to look outside. Arthur was standing in front of the door, blowing into his hands. I opened the door for him.
“Good afternoon, Sarah. Do you still care to go for a walk with me? It’s quite cold outside, but we can make it a short walk if you’d like.”
“You know I like the cold. Let me get my cloak.” I removed my cloak from the peg by the door and tied it under my chin. I also added a hat and a pair of gloves Mamma had made for me years ago. They were worn and a bit too small for me, but they brought back happy memories and I refused to stop wearing them.
I stepped lightly across the room and opened the apothecary door. “Pappa, I’m going for a walk,” I said.
“Are you going alone?” he asked.
“No.” I hesitated. “Arthur is going with me.”
Pappa gave me a look I couldn’t read, but I’m quite sure I saw a hint of a smile prod the corners of his lips upward. I shook my head in exasperation. He was as bad as Patience.
“Be back before long. It’s getting dark earlier and earlier.”
“Yes, Pappa.”
Arthur and I walked out into the bracing wind and flying snowflakes. I was glad to be bundled up so well, and wondered when we might get a good snowfall.
As I walked with Arthur, I found he had more questions about me and my life in England than questions about things he might see on his own trip.
“Did you live your entire life in England before coming to New Jersey?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Where did you live in England?”
“Oxfordshire,” I said.
“What was it like there?”
“It was a gentle place to live, with soft rains and easy winters, not like you have here. The houses were small, smaller than they are here, and there were far more hills and valleys than I’ve ever seen around this area.”
“Do you miss living there?”
I had to think for a moment before answering. “Sometimes. I miss my grandmother and the other family we left behind. I miss my old friends, though I’m sure they’ve changed as much as I have in the past four years. I think Mamma might still be with us if we had stayed in England, so I suppose there are times I wish we had never come here.”
Arthur was silent for a few minutes, perhaps not knowing what to say. Finally he spoke again.
“Maybe I shall meet your grandmother when I move to England.”
I thought it quite unlikely that he would meet one particular woman in the whole of England, but I nodded.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you could see her again?” he asked.
“Of course it would. But I’m not returning to England and she will not be coming here to New Jersey. We will have to make do with sending letters to one another,” I answered him, in a voice which I’m sure sounded harsh to his ears. In truth, I was becoming annoyed by his questions. Was he trying to make me melancholy?
We walked almost to the end of the street in Town before I told him that Pappa wanted me home long before dark. I didn’t want to spend any more time walking with Arthur. His questions had unnerved me and made me peevish and irritable.
We had just turned around to start our walk back to my house when I spotted a man standing behind the tanner’s shop. He was tall with hair the color of jet, long and flowing down the back of his short cape. He wore heavy boots. I got the sense he was younger than his appearance indicated. He happened to turn around to face the street as Arthur and I were walking past him, and my eyes met his.
It was as if a bolt of lightning coursed through my body when I saw his eyes. I had no idea who he was, but I had a feeling I had known him forever. His dark gaze followed me for just a moment before the tanner came out the back door of the shop and called for the man’s attention.
Arthur noticed my sudden interest in the stranger. “Who is that?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought perhaps you were acquainted with him somehow, though I can’t think how. It would be unseemly for someone like you to be in the acquaintance of someone like him.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“He has rather a dangerous look about him, don’t you think? With those flashing eyes and that long black hair. I half expected to see a wooden leg under those breeches!” Arthur laughed as if he had made a humorous comment. I found no humor in it, though, and when he noticed I wasn’t smiling, he stopped smiling, too.
I couldn’t shake the thought of that man from the tanner’s shop all the way back to my house, and I’m sure Arthur noticed. I was sorry I couldn’t be more engaging, but my mind was back in Town, wondering why the sight of that man had produced such an effect on me.
At my door, Arthur bowed slightly and thanked me for walking with him. “I hope the cold didn’t bother you,” he said in a solicitous tone.
“Oh, not at all. I love the cold and the snow—that’s one of the things I like best about living here,” I answered.
“Perhaps you’d like to do it again sometime?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to say. Normally I would have accepted immediately, since I enjoyed spending time with my friend, but all the talk from both Patience and my father had flustered me. Now, I thought, what would Pappa think, what would everyone think, if they saw me walking with Arthur again?
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I waved goodbye to him and ducked through the door. Pappa came into the house from the apothecary shortly thereafter and did not ask me about my walk with Arthur.
Later on, Pappa and I ate our evening meal together before Pappa suggested that we read together again. As I listened to his voice telling an old English story, my thoughts began to wander back to the country of my birth. I smiled remembering the gardens, the voices of the people who lived around us, and my old house. It, too, had been next to Pappa’s apothecary shop and I loved to go in there to watch him work, measuring and mixing and, on the rare occasion, tasting his mixtures to see if they were too bitter for patients to swallow.
I missed England and my family and friends, yes, but I belonged in New Jersey now.