The Old Cape House (15 page)

By mid-day, the two sat for a cider and dried fruit. When near finished, Abigail presented Maria with the gift of a small chest filled with the child linens from Nathanial’s children. The oak chest was lined with cedar.

“It’s beautiful,” Maria said, as she ran her slim fingers over the decorative scrolls that were carved onto the surfaces of the wood. She paused over a large letter D that flowed in script across its lid.

With a twinkle in her eye, Abigail replied, “Let me show you something very interesting.”

Maria watched in amazement as Abigail lifted the chest to the table, took out the linens and placed her fingertips on a half moon shape that was carved into the floor of the chest. She carefully pulled back on the wood and the floor of the chest slid away and out the front of the chest, revealing a two-inch space beneath it. “For secret items,” Abigail smiled.

“Thank you so much, Abigail. I will treasure it forever. You’re my best friend.”

Abigail went over to her desk in the parlor. “I have one more gift for you.”

She returned with three coins and handed them to Maria. “Here, take these and keep them in this secret compartment. You may need something extra one day.”

”You are a true friend, Abigail.” Maria gave her a hug.

Finding an old receipt from Nathanial’s affairs in the firebox, Abigail folded the paper around the coins and tied it with string.
“This will keep the coins quiet so no one but you will ever know
they are in there.”

Maria placed the little package at the bottom, slid the thin piece of wood back into place and replaced the linens. Closing the chest, she thought of how fortunate she was today.

***

Settling into their evening meal the two women heard a knock on the door.

“Well, my stars, who could that be?” The older woman stood and peered out the window. “People seem to visit me at such late hours.”

Ezra, the town constable, was standing outside.

She opened the door. “Come in, Ezra.”

“Sorry to trouble you, Abigail, at such a late hour, but I have
news of Nathanial.”

“What is your news? Tell me now.”

The constable greeted Maria with a nod and continued, “It
seems that Nathanial took sick on board his ship traveling from Antigua. They put into harbor at Barnstable and he has taken up residence at the home of Captain J. Hicks where he will remain until he is able to travel home.”

Abigail sat down on the bench next to Maria. “I must go to him. Ezra, I know of this Captain Hicks. I’ll be on the first packet to Barnstable in the morning.”

“Yes Ma’am. I’ll come by and take you to the landing, if you
would like,” offered Ezra.

“Thank you. Now get on with you so I can ready myself to
leave,” she said, pushing him out the door.

Abigail looked straight at Maria. “My child, I’ll have to leave
you for a while, but I know you’ll be fine. I’ll leave word with Hestor to come by and check on you. There are plenty of supplies to keep you warm, fed and comfortable. You know where the medicine is, if you need it…although I do not think you will.”

“Of course, Abigail, don’t worry about me, I’ll be able to take care of things. You need to go to Nathaniel.”

Abigail hustled towards her bedroom. “I have so many things to get together; I seem to have lost my appetite. I might be out later for a cup of cider to warm myself before bed.”

Left alone in the kitchen, Maria stored what food was left from their dinner and cleaned up as well as she could. She thought it best that she retire early, to leave Abigail alone to pack her things.

As she lay upstairs in bed, waiting for sleep to come, she could hear Abigail moving about downstairs late into the night. Early the
next morning, Saturday, November 2, the temperature dropped to
near freezing. The women said their goodbyes. As Maria watched Abigail leave, she prayed that she would not feel any tightening pains in her stomach–at least not until her friend returned.

November 4, 1715

NORTH HARWICH – CAPE COD

MARIA STRUGGLED TO KEEP HERSELF WARM.
She longed for Sam as November’s chill tightened its icy grip over Cape Cod. Still
alone on the third day of Abigail’s absence, Maria waited for her
friend’s return. The young girl pulled her shawl around her
shoulders and hummed a lullaby for comfort. She prayed to her mother…how I miss you and your gentle words.

Her taut skin, stretched to its limit across her stomach, could not be eased, even after massaging it with circular patterns. Maria swept the floor and scattered new sand on top of the rough-cut planks.

Wood was needed for the evening fire, so she ventured outdoors only to be pummeled by sleet that beat against the wooden shingles, and a bitter wind that slapped its fury across her face. It reminded her of her father’s harsh words. She hurried back inside.

Desperate for a distraction, Maria carefully climbed the narrow enclosed steps to the bedroom, steadying herself by holding onto its sidewalls. In the gray light she sorted through the childbed linens Abigail had found in the attic. She wished Sam could hold these tiny cloths now meant for their coming newborn.

A white linen bunting fell to the floor. As she bent over to pick it up, Maria’s stomach stiffened. “Be calm,” she cautioned herself. “It’s not time. It’s only my eighth month.”

Her face grew pale and she felt faint. A quick breath cleared her
head as she returned to the warm kitchen to stoke the fire in the
hearth.
With the heft of a length of firewood, the pain returned with the
same force as before. She reached for the hourglass above the hearth and
set it on the table. After the sand fell three quarters of the way
through the hour, her stomach grew tight again.

She thought it best to stay near the hearth and hope the cramps would stop. The wind and icy rain from the storm were the only sounds filling the chilly house as the glass bulb sifted its sand twice more. Another tightening repeated, but Maria decided it was still too irregular for a pattern
.
When her stomach relaxed, she began her evening meal and whispered a thank you to Hestor for the stew that had been prepared the prior day.

As the night grew darker, Maria finished her supper. Another log was added to the fire; its yellow flames soon lit the small room. She yearned for Sam to be by her side.

Gathering her skirts and the hourglass, she climbed the stairs to retire for the evening. The cold air hung heavy throughout the upper room. Maria’s kneecaps shook as the chilly air penetrated her body.
She left her skirts on and tied a shawl around her head and
shoulders.
With the hourglass on the floor beside the bed, she nestled her
swollen
body inside the blankets. Closing her eyes, thoughts of Sam’s
embrace slowly warmed her.

***

The pains came back after midnight, Maria rolled onto her side,
trying to comfort herself. Unsuccessful, she decided to look for
Minda’s
medicinal potion downstairs. Heavy with child and clumsy in
manner, she slowly rose from her bed and crept down the steep stairs to find the Indians’ potent leaves. She knew it was too early for the birth; maybe the herbs would ease her anxiety.

She reached for the medicine box on the high shelf. Opening the small pouch inside, Maria measured two pinches of herbs into the bottom of a large tankard to make her brew. The fire burned hot as it boiled the watery contents of the black kettle that hung on an iron pole inside the hearth. Swiftly, she poured the steamy liquid on top of the strange smelling mix, waited a few minutes, then strained it through a piece of linen and into a bottle with a glass stopper.

After taking two sips of the pungent liquid, she resolutely
climbed back up the stairs, with potion in hand, confident that she would now sleep.

Restless, Maria tossed and turned. She dreamt of horrible
images; creatures clawing at her body; her hands and feet frozen in ice; her
back and legs covered in a sticky liquid. As she slowly began to
waken from her nightmare, she held her eyes closed for fear that her dream
was real. Finally, she cautiously pushed her hand over the bed
linens. They felt cold and wet. Her fingers moved up and down, sliding across the icy bedding.

 A deep, searing pain rippled across her stomach, and her eyes flashed open. The murky morning light that filtered into the freezing
room revealed that the warm nest she had been lying upon had
indeed become wet and frozen. She threw the bedcovers aside and looked down between her legs. Her body shook in horror as she realized her water had broken during the night. Her travail had begun.

Maria lay in the damp, clammy bed trying to capture her
thoughts. The low temperatures had hardened her skirts and shift, making each movement almost impossible. She scrambled to get off the bed, all the while fighting to rid her body of the frozen clothes. At last, she stood naked, clutching her stomach. She leaned against the wall shaking, “Please, no...not now,” she cried. “I can’t do this by myself.”

As she pulled two dry shifts on for warmth, her body contracted
again. When she was able to breathe normally, Maria glanced
towards her bed and saw the glass bottle filled with the dark liquid on the floor. Abigail’s warnings of its power cautioned her to drink from it.
Ignoring her misgivings, she took the glass bottle, along with the
hourglass, and wrapped them in a shift. After tying the material into a sling around her neck to keep her hands free, she returned to the kitchen to be closer to the fire.

Midway down the steps, a sharp spasm knocked her off balance, and she landed hard on the fourth plank. Her hands gripped the wooden board while she waited for the pain to pass. While the wind
roared outside, a piercing draft of air dropped from the upstairs
against her back, sending her body into more violent shivers.

Maria stood and dragged her weakening body down the
remaining
stairs to finally set the fire that she so desperately needed. After
placing the hourglass on the table and the medicine bottle on the bureau, she leaned into the hearth and pleaded, “Please, where is Hestor? Where are you Sam? I’m so frightened to be alone!”

Her hands shook as she worked the bellows to engage the fire.
She waited for the next tightening but it did not come. Relieved,
Maria leaned her head over the table and began to whimper like a small child, realizing no one was coming to help her. Sam was so far away, no amount of praying or wishing was going to help her this night.

Maria raised her head and decided that she must prepare to face her travail alone. With determination, she gathered old cloths, her knife, a pillow, extra blankets, pieces of string and the child linens.
She placed them on the bureau in the borning room and rested on
the small bed. Her travail returned with a savage force. She screamed, “Stop pushing. Stop it! Be strong.”

Her screams changed into cries for help. “I can’t stand the pain! Please, someone help me!”

She looked over to the glass bottle on the small chest of drawers. Dragging her body into the borning room, she lunged for the bottle. No longer caring about Minda’s cautions, Maria took a sip from it, then another and another. Soon she felt drowsy. Collapsing onto the small bed near the wall, she finally closed her eyes.

Within a short time her labor returned with even stronger urges to push. Maria tried to stand but the contractions folded her body forward and she fell back onto the bed. She fought to right herself, then tried to stimulate the child to come faster. She pulled her body
around the room by holding onto the walls with her hands. Her
heart pounded and her body grew heavy with sweat. Her stomach felt as if it would explode and her lower body split open. She forced her
legs to keep walking. With each turn around the enclosed space,
Maria stopped and sipped more of the potent drug until it was all gone.

When the pains became stronger and closer together, the natural
processes of childbirth took control of her body and mind. Her
screams of agony mingled with the screeching wind and icy rain smashing
into the window. As the storm swirled around Abigail’s house and
the tiny village’s deserted cart-ways, Maria’s cries went unheard.

Present Day – July 3

BREWSTER – CAPE COD

FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE,
I could see Paul staring down into the hole. After a while, he went in. I wondered if he had found anything else. I decided to join him, leaving Molly in the house watching TV.

The dirt cellar was about 4 feet deep and 4 wide. I climbed down the narrow steps into the hole next to Paul. It easily accommodated both of us. He picked some of the bigger pieces of wood from the box and carefully moved the dirt from under the iron straps that now extended out into thin air. He looked desperate for anything that might catch his eye. I didn’t want to miss anything either, or be
left out of any new discoveries, so I also started to sift through the
dirt.

“Did you call the police?” he asked.

“Yes. They’re sending an officer over to take a look.”

“Good. It sure is exciting, but also kind of weird,” he said as he leaned back to study the black dirt surrounding us.

I touched his arm. “You know, standing here makes me think of the nightmare I had the other night. I don’t know what I was expecting to find when we started digging, but I didn’t think we’d find part of a dead body.” Shivers rippled up and down my back.

Paul leaned over to make sure the towel covered the bone
fragment.