The Old Cape House (13 page)

Wednesday – October 30, 1715

EASTHAM – CAPE COD

BY EARLY DAWN,
Maria had already brought the pushcart around to the front of the house. Her mother’s case was placed in first. To her disappointment its bulkiness nearly filled the whole cart. She pushed her weaving supplies in tight around the outsides of the bag, using their thickness as a cushion. Wrapping her scutching knife in a
handkerchief, she pocketed it for easy access, if needed for
protection. She was barely able to squeeze her food across the top of her pile of
belongings. Lastly, she covered everything with a shawl and a
blanket, then tied them down with rope. Hurrying back into the house to check if anything was forgotten Maria paused to look around.

“My spinning wheel!” she cried out. “I can’t leave it behind; I need it.” She paced back and forth in front of the hearth, holding her head in her hands. “How foolish of me to think that I could take it with me. There’s no room in the cart.” Her head shook in despair. The wheel meant so much to her; it was her freedom from being dependent on others. It was the one thing that she needed the most.

Maria climbed the stairs to the loft. She spun the wheel and held her hand over its movement as it whirred on its axle. The other hand caressed her belly. “The spinner must stay. We need to leave now, before Father wakes.”

Returning to the kitchen, she looked once more around the tiny house. Nothing else would be missed; memories of her dear mother were stored in her heart. After adjusting her heavy cape, she placed on her cap, closed the door and never looked back.

As Maria pushed the two-wheeled cart through the sleepy
village and onto the open road toward Abigail’s house, the misty morning sunlight illuminated her way. The damp air felt cool on her exposed face and hands.

During the first few miles, Maria rested against the side of the cart as needed. Once outside the village, near a small grove of pines, she finally stopped to remove stones that had found their way into her shoes. She decided this was a good place to eat her biscuit and relieve herself in the trees. Feeling refreshed, she noticed the sun was now high in the eastern sky and the air warm enough that she could remove her heavy cape. She laid it over the ropes on the cart and took hold of the handles to resume her journey. She pushed off with a shove but a loud crack echoed into the air and she fell forward onto her knees.

The cart had broken an axle, spilling her weaving supplies across the road. Her mother’s bag lay half in the cart and half on the dirt. She knelt as if praying but instead began to curse and scream, saying things that she had heard her father say time and again. Taken aback at her cursing, she covered her mouth to quiet the angry words and slumped back on her haunches. Unaware of a figure approaching in the distance, she began to pick up her few possessions from the dirt.

***

The lone traveler slowed his walking to get a better view of what was before him. He looked closer and saw a woman who seemed to
need help. He decided he was in no hurry and didn’t mind lending a
hand. As he got nearer he called out, “Hello there...do you need assistance?”

The woman straightened and turned towards him.

Stunned at her face, he called out to her, “Maria? Is that you?”

Maria could not believe her eyes. “Matthew?”

He dropped his bag on the road and ran to her. It was not the
custom to show affection to a single woman in public, but he couldn’t help
himself. He hugged her. As he held her in his arms, he felt Maria’s
swollen stomach against his waist. Leaning back, he looked into her eyes, avoiding its sight. “Maria, I’ve missed you. How are you?”

She stepped away from him and covered herself with the shawl. Embarrassed at her situation, she ignored his question. “Matthew, it’s good to see you. Where have you been?”

“Looking for adventure at sea, although I realize I might find a safer way to seek my fortune right here on land.”

“What do you mean?”

He began to collect some of her things, “Let’s not talk of it now, perhaps another time.”

Maria looked at the broken wheel. “I don’t know what I’m going to do!” She began putting some of her belongings into the pushcart.

Matthew stood and caught her by the shoulders. “Maria, we
have been friends a long time. Please tell me what you’re doing out here, by yourself.”

Ashamed by everything and overwhelmed with despair, she
began to cry on his waistcoat.

He cradled her in his arms and gently rubbed her back. “Maria,
don’t cry. I’ll help you.” His love for her filled his heart again. His
head
swirled with words of…I love you…I love you Maria. But they
stayed within. Like two lovers, they stood swaying in a locked embrace.

It had been an eternity since anyone had hugged Maria, and she
didn’t want to let go of Matthew. She felt so safe in her dear friend’s arms.

Matthew missed her touch and wanted her close to him. “Maria, where are you going with this old cart?”

She wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m trying to get to Abigail’s.”

“Abigail’s? Do you realize how far that is?”

“I do!” she answered with a slight stubbornness in her voice. “I can’t go back to my house. Father wants nothing to do with me and my...child.”

“Where’s the father of this child?” Matthew asked, trying to get more information from her.

“He’s not here, but…. He’ll be back to take care of me. I just need
to get to Abigail’s house. Will you help me?” She hoped that he
would not refuse her, thinking of the many times Matthew had fulfilled her every request.

He looked at Maria, and then at the broken cart, and back to
Maria. “Of course I’ll help you.” He smiled. “Go wait on that rock, and I’ll
fetch my wagon and horse. Then I’ll take you to Abigail’s.” He
picked up the rest of Maria’s things, along with his own bag, and carried them over to the edge of the pine grove. Then he dragged the broken cart from the pathway.

“Matthew, would you do me a favor?” Maria asked.

“What is it?”

“Would you please bring my spinning wheel from the attic?
Father will still be asleep. I’m sure that he’ll not hear nor see you.”

“Yes, I’ll get it.”

“Matthew, could you find one more thing?”

He stopped and turned towards her. “Yes?”

“In the bottom of my chest of drawers is a box with a rose
painted on it. Will you bring that too?”

He walked over to her, held her hand in his and reassured her. “I’m at your service!”

***

Matthew felt exhilarated as he ran. He had been eager to come
home to see Maria and finally make his feelings known to her. He knew a life at sea was not for him, and right now, land beneath his feet was satisfying. He picked up his pace. His true feelings would have to wait, he decided. My Maria is in trouble and needs my help.

Many questions raced through his head as he raced home. Who is the father? I need to know why this man left her. I would never have left Maria, knowing she was with child. Maybe he didn’t know!
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and concentrate on his
footing as he pushed himself along the path. I’ll be there soon. I’m almost there. I love her.

Thursday Afternoon – October 31, 1715

EASTHAM – CAPE COD

IT WAS THE BEGINNING OF THE COLD MONTHS
in the
colonies. The air carried a chill but the sun felt warm on Maria’s shoulders as she waited on her stone seat for Matthew. She busied herself with
folding and refolding the clothes in her bag. She cleaned her
weaving tools. She straightened threads, yarns, and pieces of unfinished cloth.
As she walked back and forth along the tree line, her thoughts
turned to Abigail. She knew her friend would be surprised to see her but it
didn’t matter. There would be a warm welcome for her and
Matthew; that was Abigail’s way.

The sun’s path in the sky marked mid-afternoon. Maria grew nervous about the lateness in the day but remained hopeful that Matthew would come back for her before dark. She traced the initials on her mother’s bag, ‘S.A.M’. Sam, how I wish you were here.

A jingling horse bridle broke the quiet. Maria jumped up from
her stone seat and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Matthew. He waved to her and she waved back, watching him guide the wagon
closer.

After tying the reins to a handle on the wagon, he paused to stare at her. She was so beautiful. Her face was glowing. How could anyone leave her?

“Matthew! What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me. Shall we load everything into the wagon? I found the spinning wheel and the box.” He added with a laugh, “You were right about your father; he was still sleeping in the barn.”

Maria found her small box in the wagon. It was decorated with a beautiful rose painted on its top, near the right corner. “Thank you, Matthew.” She turned away from him and opened it a crack to check its contents, then pushed the decorative box under her clothes in the travel bag. “Shall we get started?”

Matthew helped her onto the wagon’s seat. He had placed a
large blanket across the bench for warmth. As they rode, he noticed Maria holding her stomach. They had already traveled over eight miles and he wondered if she was all right. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine. The child is moving.”

As they got closer to Abigail’s, the sun disappeared behind grey clouds forming above them. Maria felt chilled and covered herself
with part of the blanket. When they pulled away from a wooded
area of dense trees, tiny snowflakes began to drift through the cold air.

Matthew looked over to his silent passenger. “Don’t worry.
We’ll
be at Abigail’s shortly.” He wanted to hold her hand, but instead he
held steady on the reins, keeping the wagon straight on the old cart-
way.

By the time they reached Abigail’s house, the sun had set; it was
dusk and lightly snowing. Matthew had hoped to talk to Maria
about what took place while he was at sea, but Maria seemed preoccupied.

***

Abigail was sitting down to her evening meal when she thought she heard the sound of a wagon approaching. She wondered who
would be out this time of night? She peeked through the small
window on the door, but darkness clouded her view. The unexpected arrival of a stranger frightened her, so she backed away; ready to grab the iron rod hanging in the hearth.

Maria stood next to Matthew as he knocked on the door.

Abigail called out, “Who is it?”

“Maria Hallett.”

“Come closer to the window so I can see your face,” Abigail
ordered.

Maria positioned her face as close as she could to the little
opening on the door. Abigail grabbed the Betty Lamp. “Maria, it IS you.” She lifted the heavy latch to let in her friend. “What are you doing here?”

As soon as Maria saw Abigail, she began to cry in relief and
leaned into the comfort of her arms. “Father has forbidden me to stay in the house and wants nothing more to do with me.”

Matthew entered the house behind Maria.

“And who might you be?” Abigail took a stern look towards Matthew.

Maria pulled away from Abigail and wiped her tears. “This is Matthew Ellis, the dearest friend that anyone could have, besides you and Minda. He lives with his family next to our house.”

“Well, come in and close the door or all the warmth will be lost.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Matthew closed the door and took off his hat.

“Let me look at you, my dear,” Abigail said noticing the sizable stomach on Maria. “You are coming along as expected. Sit down, both of you. Please join me in dinner so we may talk.”

Matthew inquired if he would be allowed to bed his horse down in the barn for the night. Abigail agreed and he left, informing them that he would be back presently. The two women decided they should wait for Matthew before eating. During their short wait, Maria confided to Abigail that she had not told Matthew about Sam and she asked her not to speak of him to Matthew. Abigail agreed. And as Maria hoped, the kind old woman invited her to stay in the house for as long as was needed.

All three were hungry when Matthew joined the two women at the table. Maria spoke of how her father had discovered she was with child and then explained how angry he’d become.

Matthew listened in silence.

She relayed her futile attempt to walk the roads, pushing the old cart, and then her rescue by Matthew.

 Finishing the last of the biscuits, the young man complimented
Abigail. “Everything tasted wonderful, Abigail...thank you so
much.”

“It’s my pleasure to serve such a kind man as you.”

She poured him more ale, usually reserved for her husband Nathanial, and asked, “Tell me about how you came to be walking on the road this morning.”

Matthew settled himself into his chair. “After being at sea for
nigh six months I was heading home to Eastham. Our ship had landed at Boston Harbor, so my shipmate, Jonathan Quidley, and I, caught a packet to Barnstable, where he makes his home. We had the stench of the sea on us but we didn't care; it was home that mattered most to us.” He smiled at Maria and placed his open hand down on the table, nearer to hers. “As the boat traveled along the bay, I bought food for the two of us, for a few shillings, and we sat outside in the sea air. It was the least I could do for my friend who was going to put me up for the night.”

Maria inched her hand closer to his across the smooth wood.

“Upon arriving at his home, Jonathan’s mother washed my
clothes and let me clean myself up. In exchange, I helped Jonathan fell a tree that had its roots exposed. We cut and stacked the wood, and added it to his family’s woodpile for winter. When my things were in order, I said my goodbyes and caught the packet out of Barnstable Harbor to Breakwater Landing, in the North Parish. From there I started walking home. It was a long journey, but I didn’t mind. He looked at Maria, then to Abigail. “It became a fortunate event that I saw Maria
and was able to help her.” He reached out and gently held Maria’s
hand.