The Old Cape House (37 page)

***

Maria woke to the aftermath of the same untimely storm that had delayed Matthew. Remnants of sea grass that had been blown up onto the bluffs lay scattered over the scrub by her house. Her broom and other tools were strewn across the dirt. Several pieces of linen, which had been drying on a tree, lay atop the marsh grasses. Large tree limbs blocked the path leading to her house. She took her time to fetch water from the well as she began her day, not sensing any urgency to clear away the debris. No one ever visited her. She thought Minda might come, but surely the storm’s fury would have made it difficult for the old woman to travel. There was time to clean up and move the large branches later.

Maria stoked the hearth embers from the previous day’s fire to
heat the kettle for her morning drink. After such a cold and
frightening night it would taste good. Sam’s gift of china had become a pleasant
habit for Maria to use with her daily meals and today was no
different.

She sipped her tea outside, where the air was cool but smelled fresh and clean. Glancing toward the grasses and wild flowers that grew across the dunes, she knew winter would soon be over.

On the horizon Maria saw her friend, the old PohWah, climbing
over the fallen branches on the path ahead. As she approached,
Maria called out, “Minda, you’re an early riser. You surprise me today.”

Minda took her seat next to Maria on the bench. “Just anxious to
visit you,” the old PohWah told her young friend. “I hope you fare
well?”

“Yes, I do,” Maria answered. “May I interest you in some tea?”

Observing Sam’s fine china in Maria’s hand, Minda replied,
“Yes, but a simple cup if you please.”

Minda had made a habit of visiting Maria throughout the past
year. On this occasion, it was to be a quick visit. She was needed
among her people. With the death of Reverend Treat, last March, the Nauset
Indians had been worried about his replacement and how his
passing would affect their relationship with a new reverend and the people of Eastham. Her counsel was important to the Nausets.

Minda felt the warmth of the sun as she sat on the bench and let
her thoughts ramble. Maria had survived well. The settlers now
came
to her for help in the dark of night, hiding their clandestine visits
from the elders, seeking relief from their aching bones, or other
mysterious
illnesses that no one but Maria could understand. Minda was
pleased
that they wanted Maria’s herbs and medicines. In return, the
villagers left Maria food or extra supplies in payment. Minda grinned. The whispers from old Widow Baker about the banished girl and her supposed witchcraft practices only brought success to Maria and never scorn upon her reputation. Minda had taught the girl well.

Maria was pleased that there was enough honey to sweeten their peppermint tea. Mr. Leach, who’d been worried about his wife when she was with child, had come to Maria for a loadstone amulet to strengthen the infant within her and to prevent a miscarriage. He’d
looked very happy when Maria had wrapped the small stone in
linen and laced it with a piece of thin leather for his wife to hang above her navel. Satisfied with his child’s healthy birth, he had left two jars of honey on Maria’s stoop in exchange for payment.

The two friends drank their sweet tea and looked out over the newly grown green marshes.

Minda asked, “Do you still hurt in your heart for Sam?”

Maria shook her head. “No, the hurt grows smaller each day.”

Minda reached over and held her hand. “That is good. When
your sorrow is small, the hole in your heart is easier to mend.”

Maria sipped her tea.

“Do you think of Matthew?”

“Yes, almost every day,” Maria sighed. “I watch for him now as I watched for Sam.”

Silence fell between them except for a bird’s serenading song.

Minda looked up at the swaying trees and listened to the pines whispering in the spring breeze. “I have heard that some people call you a witch.”

“I’m aware of that gossip but I pay it no mind.” Maria traced the delicate lines of the flowers on the china cup with her finger. “As long as they treat me with respect, even if it’s only for my strange ways, I can benefit from it.”

Minda’s heart was content at the thought that this young girl
had grown into a smart and resourceful woman. Maria’s mother
would have been proud.

***

Matthew was able to leave near high noon. It was going to be a warmer ride than expected, leaving so late in the day, but it didn’t matter because he was happy.

The narrow rutted cart-way, soon to be dedicated as the King’s
Highway, took him away from Stoneybrook Village toward the
Doane homestead, where the memory of that fateful night and horrible fire reminded him even more that he needed to take his Maria away to a safer place.

Matthew stopped the wagon and noted traces of charred grasses where the Doane house once stood. The large oak tree had survived the intense heat of the fire, but the side closest to Abigail’s house was blackened and bare, while the other side grew green. It was as if it was telling Matthew to travel that way to Maria. She was all he cared about, all he thought about. He rubbed the pain in his leg, flicked the
reins and drove the wagon toward the direction of the growing
leaves.

It was dusk and on the verge of total blackness when Matthew
drove close to the McKeon house. He stopped the wagon a short
distance away and sat to contemplate what he was about to do. He repeated in his head: I love her; I’m certain of that. Does she love me enough to come with me now?

The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the window of the small house. He could see the outline of a woman by the hearth. After the horse and wagon were tied to a tree, he walked towards the door.

Matthew straightened his waistcoat and stood tall with his hand poised to knock.

***

Maria and Minda sat at the table eating their evening meal of
rabbit
stew, courtesy of Mr. Jackson’s constant bouts of indigestion. A
knock at the door stopped their spoons in mid-air.

“Another visitor from Eastham?” Minda asked.

“I don’t know who that could be.” Maria beckoned her friend. “Please take a safe position in the shed out back so you aren’t found with me.” Minda obliged her request but held the back door ajar so
that she could see who was visiting. She stood quietly in the
darkness and waited.

Maria placed her hand on the latch. “Who’s at my door?”

The voice spoke, “Maria? It’s Matthew.”

The sound of Matthew’s name startled her at first, and then her heart leapt with joy. She threw open the door, put her arms around
his neck and would not let go. He twirled her body across the
threshold and into the house.

“Matthew, Matthew, it’s so good to see you,” she said, looking
into his wide eyes and laughing. A wellspring of youth surged
within her, and she felt as if they were children again.

Matthew gently let Maria go, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of
her.

 “What brings you here tonight, Matthew?”

“Something I have thought about for a long time.” He gazed at how her brown hair fell loose around her shoulders. His heart raced; his body surged with passion at the sight of her, and he remembered why he loved her so deeply. “I can’t hold my tongue any longer; I’m bursting with love for you, Maria.”

Maria stood still. Matthew’s touch surprised her and pleased her all at once. She looked at him with a great affection in her heart. He
stood before her now: a strong, handsome man with whom she
could live with and love for the rest of her life.

He reached out, held her close to his body and stroked her
cheek. With tears in his eyes he asked, “Maria will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Matthew needed no more words. He pulled her even closer and kissed her over and over, sealing their pact.

Minda opened the back door and entered the room singing a
loud ‘whoop’ signifying her joy.

But Matthew and Maria paid no attention, lost in the beginning of their new world.

***

That night, as Matthew loaded Maria’s things into the wagon, she sat at the table in the kitchen and placed the last of the blue china into the small chest on the floor. She closed its lid and remembered back to her once passionate love for Sam. Although it was now a
distant memory, she still kept a piece of him in the corner of her
heart, not for love, but for compassion and sympathy for the man who’d
loved her and had simply wanted a life better than the one he’d been
dealt.

Sam Bellamy was her first love but not her last. He was a good and true prince of pirates. He gave his life trying to save Abigail.

The spinner took precedence over all and stood tallest in the
wagon. Matthew made sure it was secure. It was surrounded by
Maria’s
special keepsake box, yarns, threads, weaving supplies, the small
chest
filled with the blue dishes and whatever coins were left from Sam,
and of course the herbs and medicines that Maria was so adept at
dispensing.

Minda felt proud as she watched the two lovers work as partners
readying for their journey together. She beamed as if she were
Maria’s mother, pleased to see a daughter who had found love and security at last.

The supplies were covered with a large blanket. There was just
enough room for Matthew and his new bride-to-be to sit on the
bench.

By early dawn, they were prepared to leave.

“Maria, we must go now.”

“Coming, my love.”

The old McKeon house sat empty in the early pre-dawn hours except for the table, chair, and bed that were there when she first met Sam. One final hug and words of goodbye were exchanged between the two old friends. Maria knew she would never see Minda again.
The only thing that she would miss of her past life was the Old
PowWah.

Minda held the nanny goat that would return with her to the
Nausets as she watched Maria begin a journey to the next stage of her life. She sang a blessing for them as they made their way through the first cluster of houses near the village, then to its center and finally onto the open road. No one would notice them in the early morning light, and if someone did, it did not matter; Maria Hallett was leaving Eastham.

Maria held Matthew’s knee as the wagon rumbled along the
cart-way. “I cannot remember a time when I was not watching or waiting for someone or something. My life has been like the tides, forever
washing away parts of my life while also cleansing it for something
new to begin.”

She kissed him on the cheek and looked straight ahead,
comforted by Minda’s sweet goodbye song.

Present Day

BREWSTER – CAPE COD

LITTLE DANIEL, A HEALTHY BABY BOY,
was born in February. By the time he was five months old, I was still carrying most of my extra weight from his pregnancy, but remained steadfast at getting those last pounds off.

It was June, and I felt hopeful for the coming season. Tourists
once again filled the grocery stores, and there was the hustle and bustle of businesses opening their doors across the main streets of Cape Cod. It was music to my ears. I could hardly wait for potential buyers to walk into our little gallery. Money was tight. Danny’s birth was only partially covered by our insurance, so we were still paying off the debt. But my family was happy.

Paul had been productive through early winter and had helped
me in the first three months of the year with baby Daniel. He’d
painted every day, creating art pieces that rivaled anything else he had ever
done. The natural light of the Cape glistened across his new
paintings
with masterful brushstrokes. It looked like it was going to be a good season.

Jim was in the West Indies for his first year in the Peace Corps and was already accomplishing great things. Brian had been elected president of his junior class and was finally happy about our move to the Cape. Casey had made a lot of friends and was enjoying her
new school. Molly was her usual precocious self, making us all
laugh.

In between taking care of Daniel, I explored our two acres of
land and promised myself that I’d make paths throughout the woods as soon as the ground was a little drier. Such a simple thing to do, but
the wooded trails would provide adventure for the whole family,
and
all the friends and family who would visit in the coming summer days.

Half of our land was a tangle of wild roses, grapevines,
blackberries, and hardwoods mixed in with a lot of scrub. Clearing the pathways could be fun and would provide no-cost exercise for me.

One crisp morning, my strategy was planned as I enjoyed a
warm cup of coffee. I bounced baby Daniel in his baby seat near me on the kitchen floor.

“Paul, as soon as I put Daniel down for his morning nap, I’m going to start my paths.”

Paul poured his last cup of coffee from the thermos. “No
problem, I’ll take the baby monitor into the studio.”

I picked Daniel up. “Okay. I figure I have a couple of hours
before Molly comes home on the bus from kindergarten.”

By 10 am Daniel was asleep. I went into the barn to gather some tools and grabbed a garden rake or ‘whacker’ for prickly vines, some hand clippers, and the heavy artillery; a big shovel for pushing away the really big thorns and vines.

As I walked around the perimeter of the woods, I tried to find a
natural entrance. On the ground, near the edge of the woods, I
noticed some deer droppings. Looking up ahead I could see a subtle path. I hit the brambles a few times with my shovel and stepped into the thicket. I’m in, I thought to myself. Out came the hand clippers from my pocket to cut away the wild rose vines that were sticking to my clothes and arms as I ventured deeper in.