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CATHERINE WAS GLAD Noah exhibited the decency and patience to wait until they returned home before he began to question her.
“Why didn’t you tell me Lanneika was with Phyrahawque? And don’t tell me you haven’t known all along who that savage is! Perhaps you met him in the forest this very afternoon!” he accused. “You have a lot to learn about deception, my dear. You could have at least tucked a few weeds into your basket!”
Listening quietly to his tirade, Catherine removed her bonnet and hung it on a peg. Turning to face him, inspiration struck when she spotted something caught amongst the rushes on the floor. Stooping, she picked up a crusty brown leaf. “What do you call this, Noah?”
His lips pursed irritably. “It’s a leaf, of course. But what does that have to say to . . .”
“How do you suppose it got here?”
His tone sounded impatient. “I suppose it blew in the opened doorway!”
“As could a feather!” she ground out, sailing past him into their bedchamber.
He followed her. “You don’t get off that easy! I demand an explanation from you or I shall . . .”
She whirled to face him. “Or you shall what?” she challenged.
His nostrils flared. “If you’ve been lifting your skirts for that greasy savage, I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill . . . ”
His threat hung in the air.
“Kill me?” She removed her bodice and hung it on a peg. Reaching behind her back to undo her skirt, she held his steady gaze as she stepped from it.
“You whoring hussy!” He came at her like a man crazed. Grasping her bare arms, he shook her till her teeth rattled. Pressing her against the wall, his face contorted with rage. “You have cuckolded me with an Indian!”
She didn’t struggle. Instead she lifted her chin stubbornly. “I have not betrayed you, Noah. But I wonder what term one uses when a married man beds an Indian maid, or several of them?”
He thrust her from him. “A man has a right to seek whatever pleasure he wishes,” he growled.
Standing with her back to him, she removed her undergarments and drew on her night rail before she turned to face him.
“I have never lain with an Indian, Noah. You are my husband, and you are the only man I wish to lie with.”
She sat down on the bed and although at the moment she did not mean what she said, she thought it best to say it. “Come to bed. You are my husband, and I wish to lie with you.”
Though Catherine was only going through the motions, she did her best to pleasure her husband that night and for several nights following. It occurred to her that with both of her husbands, lovemaking was a rather rushed affair. Victor seemed to have had less experience at it than Noah, but neither man said much before, during or after, when both quickly fell fast asleep. Despite the pleasure she remembered from those first few stolen moments with Noah, all in all she didn’t see much to recommend the experience. Lovemaking seemed designed more to pleasure a man than a woman. Perhaps the pleasure for a woman was meant to come from the babe the act produced. Looking back on that night when Noah left her, even as she so desperately wanted him, now seemed deliberately cruel of him. But now that she knew more of Noah’s true personality, there was much about him that seemed cruel . . . something she would never have thought to be true of him.
The following morning, when her husband announced that he and the other two traders would be leaving on another expedition in a few days’ time, she knew the first moments of relief she’d felt since he’d returned to Jamestown the week previous.
With Noah again gone, she felt especially alone now that Lanneika was no longer coming. The children were also no longer there as Noah had insisted the day before he left that she give up her school and be a proper wife to him. It was just as well, she told herself, for without help from anyone, she had plenty to do every day with the cooking, cleaning, washing, and pulling the hardy weeds that threatened to strangle not only her knee-high corn stalks, but the tender young herbs in her herb garden . . . and the pretty flowers in her window box.
She consulted Goody Smithfield as to exactly when to plant beans and squash beneath her cornstalks, and, when told that any day now would be fine, she busied herself with that chore.
One day she decided it was again time to remove the soiled rushes on the floor and replace them with fresh-smelling straw. In the process, she came across a dozen or so more of the blue glass beads she’d dropped the day she stumbled and fell from the rickety ladder. She gathered up the beads and placed them in the center of the board table. If Lanneika did return one day, she would give them to her.
Another day, on her way back from the spring, she met up with Goody Smithfield. Catherine lowered the heavy wooden yoke resting on her shoulders to speak with the woman, who seemed excited about something.
“Ship’s comin’! Ship’s comin’! M’ husband said he seen two barks on the horizon! A hundred hungry settlers’ll be descendin’ on us any day now!”
Catherine smiled at the woman. “That is exciting news. Most like, they’ll all be needing homes, too.”
“Oh, my yes! M’ husband and I always takes some in. You and yer man should too. You’ve got plenty o’ room at yer place.”
“Indeed we do,” Catherine murmured, turning to go.
“I mean to make soap tomorrow,” Goodwife Smithfield called after her. “If’n ye’d like ta’ help, I can share with ye.”
“Thank you. My supply is about gone.”
“Mine, too!” The older woman laughed gaily. “Which is why my apron is such a sight!”
The more Catherine thought about inviting a couple to share their home, the more she liked the idea. Additional people in the house would serve more than the obvious purpose, which was to provide shelter to those who had none. It might also make Noah less likely to vent his wrath upon her over some trifling matter, plus another woman would be a great help to her. Surely Noah would not object since he was so seldom here.
When he was home, he would enjoy having another man to converse with, which might also restore his good humor. She also expected Noah would be eager to purchase one or two indentured contracts, since it would net him more land. The bondservants, she reasoned, could stay in a hastily constructed bark hut on the land. Noah could put the men to work clearing an acre in order to be ready to plant their first tobacco crop come next spring.
Once again, all would be well between them. Of late, she’d wished she had Noah’s little daughter to take care of, thereby completing their family, but since he’d only mentioned his baby that one time, she never brought the matter up again.
Recently, however, she had begun to suspect she might be with child. Her moon cycle, as Lanneika called it, had been interrupted, so there was a good chance she was, although she felt exceptionally well every day with no sickness whatever. She hoped the news would please Noah, despite his remark that he cared little for children, or for a woman carrying one.
Still, the thought pleased her, and she felt in an exceptionally good humor that afternoon as she set about clearing the second bedchamber in readiness for the new family. The items that Noah did not often use, she would store in the loft. The rest she’d find space for in the common room. With her school closed now, she decided they could give away the extra board tables to new settlers who didn’t yet have furniture or they could break them down and stand them up in the shed. That would free up plenty of space for Noah’s bulky breastplate, musket, helmet, and other things in an unused corner of the common room.
Humming to herself, she made several trips back and forth between the two rooms, carrying items of his clothing to hang on empty pegs lining the wall in their bedchamber. He’d worn his armor and carried his musket, so that meant she now only had to find room for his bow and quiver of arrows, which he seldom used. In fact, she hadn’t seen him so much as pick up either since they married. Deciding to take them to the loft, she slung the quiver over her back as she’d seen the Indians do, and headed up the ladder, one hand tightly grasping the bow, the other clinging to the sturdy rail of the ladder.
Once above stairs, she glanced about in search of a place to put them. Spotting an empty corner, she headed that direction but had to bend over to move a small keg. When she bent over, all the arrows tumbled out of the quiver, falling helter-skelter to the floor. Smiling at her own clumsiness, she squatted down to gather up the arrows and put them back in the quiver, feather-end up as they’d been before, but suddenly, something odd caught her eye. Picking up several arrows, one after another, she noted that nearly every last arrow in Noah’s collection had a different-sized arrowhead.
The head on the arrow she now held was tiny, no bigger than her thumbnail, with a needle-sharp point. She remembered Noah telling her that day in the forest that the smallest arrowhead was a Powhatan arrow. She picked up another one. Its head was twice as large, relatively flat, and the tip of the arrowhead, though equally as sharp, was wider, much like the one Jack had pulled from Victor’s leg; the one that shattered the bone and left shards of metal in his flesh.
She inspected the rest of the arrows. Though some were similar, there were no two exactly alike. The shafts also had different markings, odd drawings, or symbols, not unlike the emblem on the base of the feather that had so arrested Noah’s attention.
She thought back to the night of Victor’s accident when she’d opened the door to admit Noah. She’d thrust both of the arrows at him and told him the men wished to question him. She clearly recalled Noah instantly declaring he hadn’t been anywhere near the stream that day.
Stunned by what was swirling in her head, she sat back on her heels, her heart pounding wildly in her ears.
What, she wondered now, had Noah been told when Argall summoned him? Had he been told exactly where the accident took place? If not, how would he have known it was near the stream?
Feeling as if the blood in her veins was on fire, she shook herself. How could she be thinking such horrible thoughts about her own husband? Certainly Noah had nothing to do with Victor’s death. She stuffed the rest of the arrows into the quiver and hastened back downstairs.
But he had threatened more than once to kill any man who touched her, a small voice in her head reminded her.
Stop! She put both hands over her ears to shut out the nagging thoughts. Noah was a man of strong passions. It was one of the reasons why she had loved him so. When he spoke of killing any man who touched her, it had surely been his way of expressing the depth of his love!
With fresh resolve, she determined to never think about the arrowheads or the awful events of that night ever again!
Catherine spent the entire next day in Goody Smithfield’s yard learning how to make soap. It was a lengthy process using the grease one had accumulated throughout the year along with half a dozen bushels of ashes collected and saved from the hearth. Catherine had wondered why Abby had been so adamant about saving the old grease and sweeping the ashes into a barrel every day. Now she knew. And was glad she’d followed suit for, with the addition of what she contributed, both she and Goody Smithfield netted a barrel full of jelly-like soft soap that would last throughout the next year.
When the complicated procedure was finally completed, Goodman Smithfield obligingly rolled Catherine’s barrel down the dusty path to her home and set it just inside the front door, convenient for scooping out a handful when one wished to scrub trenchers or do laundry outdoors. Although Catherine was glad to have learned how to accomplish yet one more necessary task in the New World, she was completely exhausted when the sun finally set on that long day.
The next morning, she was awakened by an excited hue and cry from outdoors; the two ships everyone had been anxiously watching approach were sailing into the harbor. Other ships had arrived since Catherine had come to the New World, but she had never run down to the pier with the colonists to welcome the new arrivals. Today she did.
It was a sunny May morning with fluffy white clouds overhead. Talk amongst those who breathlessly waited on shore centered around what supplies the ships might have brought. The winter months had been harsh and everyone’s store of foodstuffs and general household items were running perilously low. Unless the traders could extricate something edible from the Indians soon, everyone would have to wait until harvest-time to replenish their food supply. Women on shore wondered if the ship brought letters from home, or fabric, new clothing, coffee and tea, or perhaps exotic spices; men wondered if there would be new tools, or perhaps a cow or goat to purchase. In the past year, Catherine had worn holes in the soles of her boots. Entertaining the hope of purchasing a new pair today, a few coins jingled in her apron pocket as she stood on shore gazing out at the tall ships in the harbor, their hulls brightly painted red, yellow, and green. Atop the tall masts, red and blue silken flags snapped in the breeze. Joyous cheers erupted from the throng on shore when the first longboat reached land and the new arrivals stepped onto solid ground.
Caught up in the exultation, Catherine surged forward along with the other excited settlers.
After waiting a lengthy spell for the ship’s merchant to set up his store in a longboat near the water’s edge, she did purchase a new pair of sturdy brown leather boots and two lengths of fabric, which she meant to stitch into gowns for herself. If she were with child, she also meant to fashion tiny garments for her precious infant to wear.
That night, as she lay in bed thinking over the events of the day, she could not help but be reminded of her own arrival in Jamestown nearly one year ago. She cringed when she recalled her supreme disappointment when she’d learned that Noah hadn’t waited for her, that he’d married another and the couple already had a babe on the way. Although a very great deal had happened in the past twelvemonth, she thanked the Lord now that at long last everything had been set to rights and she and Noah were finally man and wife.
Weary, she settled the bedclothes in readiness to sleep. But sleep did not come. The tight knot of anxiety in her midsection simply would not let her rest. Despite Adam’s dire warnings about Noah, she’d stubbornly clung to her childish notion that she loved him, and he loved her. Now, she wondered, after all she’d gone through to be with Noah, had she only been successful in deceiving herself? Doubts and unanswered questions about her new husband troubled her waking hours and were now also disturbing her sleep.