when the life of your husband is in such danger. I imagine my thoughts would lie with him day and night if I were you. How terrible to sit here day after day not knowing his fate or even if he still lives. I am impressed by your courage and ability to put him out of your thoughts,” Deidre said.
Emily’s eyes sparked and she bolted upright.
“How dare you question my love for Jonathon! He is never out of my thoughts or prayers and it is abhorrent of you to suggest otherwise. Be careful what you say, Deidre. You are in no position to anger me,” Emily snapped.
“Oh, dear, Emily, you misunderstand me. I never intended to question your love of Jonathon; I was merely complimenting your abundance of compassion. That you could even consider the safety of David’s niece while you daily live with the anguish of ignorance about Jonathon’s health and safety is admirable. You misinterpreted my compliment.” Deidre rose and straightened her skirt, dusting it off lightly. “I apologize if I offended you in any way,” she said, patting Emily’s hand.
Emily watched as Deidre walked away, unconsciously wiping the spot where the woman’s hand had touched hers.
• • •
Randy approached the cabin as the sun was sinking below the tree line. The peacefulness of the woods was a balm after the upheaval of port cities. Breathing in the pine scent, cool and crisp, he reviewed the day’s events. Emotions were running high in Williamsburg as talk of independence from England became more and more heated. As the largest of the colonies, Virginia possessed enormous influence, and its actions could sway other colonies to favor independence, too. Britain’s demands on the colonies to fund the army and navy and recoup economic stability after the war with the French had become untenable, and rebellion had been simmering for years. Now it had come to a head, and the call for independence from England was mounting. The Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg was a center for debate and planning, and it was from just such a lively session that Randy was returning. Approaching the cabin, he took the usual precautions, carefully scanning the woods for hidden spies. He had taken a circuitous route there, doubling back several times to ensure he was not being followed. They had planned carefully for Jonathon’s safety as he was not only a good friend, but instrumental in the effort against the British. His work for the Committees of Correspondence using his ship, the
Destiny
, was well-known, and many patriot successes were due to his courageous leadership. He had rallied many to the cause, and there was much more he was needed for in order to continue the fight. No, it was not just friendship that called Randy to aide Jonathon; he was, in essence, a major part of the spirit of the revolution.
Riding up to the cabin, Randy secured his horse to a tree, removed two overstuffed saddlebags and stepped up to the door. It was quiet, as usual, but Randy sensed an added layer to the quiet. Opening the door, he stepped into the shadowy room. Jonathon lay against the pillow, his face pale, his arm thrown over his eyes. Randy hurried to the bedside.
“Are you well, Jonathon? What is it?” Randy asked. Concern gripped him as he dared to think that all of their ministrations had been for naught. “Jonathon, are you ill? What do you need?”
Jonathon lowered his arm and looked at the friend who had shared his life, a trusted friend. Self-loathing again surged through him, and he ripped open his shirt revealing scarlet strips angled across the wounds inflicted by the British. Jaw clenched, twitching with anger, he spat out his words.
“Nothing that the British did can compare to the consequence of these scars.”
Randy looked at him in confusion, shifting his eyes from the fresh wounds to Jonathon’s face.
“Whatever happened to you, Jonathon? Did the British find you? Who was here?” he asked, for indeed, if the British had discovered Jonathon, he
Emily’s eyes sparked and she bolted upright.
“How dare you question my love for Jonathon! He is never out of my thoughts or prayers and it is abhorrent of you to suggest otherwise. Be careful what you say, Deidre. You are in no position to anger me,” Emily snapped.
“Oh, dear, Emily, you misunderstand me. I never intended to question your love of Jonathon; I was merely complimenting your abundance of compassion. That you could even consider the safety of David’s niece while you daily live with the anguish of ignorance about Jonathon’s health and safety is admirable. You misinterpreted my compliment.” Deidre rose and straightened her skirt, dusting it off lightly. “I apologize if I offended you in any way,” she said, patting Emily’s hand.
Emily watched as Deidre walked away, unconsciously wiping the spot where the woman’s hand had touched hers.
• • •
Randy approached the cabin as the sun was sinking below the tree line. The peacefulness of the woods was a balm after the upheaval of port cities. Breathing in the pine scent, cool and crisp, he reviewed the day’s events. Emotions were running high in Williamsburg as talk of independence from England became more and more heated. As the largest of the colonies, Virginia possessed enormous influence, and its actions could sway other colonies to favor independence, too. Britain’s demands on the colonies to fund the army and navy and recoup economic stability after the war with the French had become untenable, and rebellion had been simmering for years. Now it had come to a head, and the call for independence from England was mounting. The Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg was a center for debate and planning, and it was from just such a lively session that Randy was returning. Approaching the cabin, he took the usual precautions, carefully scanning the woods for hidden spies. He had taken a circuitous route there, doubling back several times to ensure he was not being followed. They had planned carefully for Jonathon’s safety as he was not only a good friend, but instrumental in the effort against the British. His work for the Committees of Correspondence using his ship, the
Destiny
, was well-known, and many patriot successes were due to his courageous leadership. He had rallied many to the cause, and there was much more he was needed for in order to continue the fight. No, it was not just friendship that called Randy to aide Jonathon; he was, in essence, a major part of the spirit of the revolution.
Riding up to the cabin, Randy secured his horse to a tree, removed two overstuffed saddlebags and stepped up to the door. It was quiet, as usual, but Randy sensed an added layer to the quiet. Opening the door, he stepped into the shadowy room. Jonathon lay against the pillow, his face pale, his arm thrown over his eyes. Randy hurried to the bedside.
“Are you well, Jonathon? What is it?” Randy asked. Concern gripped him as he dared to think that all of their ministrations had been for naught. “Jonathon, are you ill? What do you need?”
Jonathon lowered his arm and looked at the friend who had shared his life, a trusted friend. Self-loathing again surged through him, and he ripped open his shirt revealing scarlet strips angled across the wounds inflicted by the British. Jaw clenched, twitching with anger, he spat out his words.
“Nothing that the British did can compare to the consequence of these scars.”
Randy looked at him in confusion, shifting his eyes from the fresh wounds to Jonathon’s face.
“Whatever happened to you, Jonathon? Did the British find you? Who was here?” he asked, for indeed, if the British had discovered Jonathon, he
Similar Books
