chaise drove off, with Silvy sitting between them, Barley driving, and John riding alongside, I had more fears than a cat with a long tail in a room full of rocking chairs.
I should have gone with them, I thought. I shouldn't have allowed Anne to take her lacquered box in which she kept her treasures. That alone could cause trouble with the other girls. Then MyJohn came up behind me. "Good, you got them off," he said. "It's starting to rain."
As I turned to go back inside the house, I saw a white pigeon on the roof.
***
B Y THE TIME MyJohn was ready to leave that evening, the rain was steady and vicious. He didn't want to go until John returned. John had been away all afternoon, likely at Dorothea's.
We stood under the covered walkway out back. We were alone, and MyJohn looked as if he wanted to kiss me. But I gave him no encouragement.
"Patsy, you've got to stop this," he said.
"What?"
"You know. We're betrothed. Why won't you kiss me?"
I had no answer. I wanted to. The nearness of him, the manly smells of him, the dear familiar arms and hands, the broad shoulders made me half daft with wanting. Did he think it was easy for me?
I let him kiss me. I huddled in his arms, letting him protect me, until we saw John and Barley ride up.
Both were already soaked through. Barley took the horse and chaise into the barn. MyJohn squeezed my hand and went to speak to my brother. Then he rode off.
John and Barley came in about ten. I gave them supper in the traveler's room. Rain slashed against the windows and pinged into rain barrels. When they'd come in, I'd seen through the open door pools of standing water in the back quadrant. And heard water rushing in rivulets in the lane between the slave houses.
"I'm afraid we're in for the worst of it," John said. "Some people at the Hoopers' said the James and Rappahannock are already threatening to flood."
I thought of Mama. And her predictions. But I said nothing.
John and Barley ate in companionable silence. There was something between these two. They'd grown up together, played together. But, while John still retained some of his boyhood friendship with Barley, it had long since taken on a different tone. Barley was a good hand with the horses John was raising for racing. But John was definitely the master now in the friendship.
Men do this better than women, I decided. Just then there was a tremendous clap of thunder. And I jumped. John got up and set his plate down. "You'd best get to your bed," he advised Barley. "Unless you want to bed down in here for the night."
The fire looked inviting. Barley grinned sheepishly. "You got a quilt, I'd just as soon stay in here if'n it's arright," he said.
So a quilt was fetched. Candles were extinguished. John bolted the outside door and the door from the traveler's room to the house, and saw me to my room. It was a comfort to know John was there.
Outside the rain poured down as if the world were coming to an end. I could not sleep for the sound of it.
***
I MUST HAVE slept, after all, though always my mind was conscious of the terrible rain. The wheat crop will be ruined, I thought. The peach orchard brought down. Then I heard a sound, a thump from outside my window. I got up to peer outside, but I could see nothing in the drenching rain.
Then, in a flash of lightning, I saw it.
Under the linden tree by the white fence! A figure, bedraggled and plodding against the rain.
Mama! I was sure of it! My heart leapt inside me. And in her arms she held something. A child?
I ran to Edward's cradle on the other side of my bed. He lay sleeping peacefully. Who, then?
Betsy!
I ran out into the hall and down to her room. Betsy's bed was empty.
"John? John!" I pounded on his door. "John, wake up!"
"What is it, Patsy? What's amiss?" He stood there, half asleep.
"John, I just saw Mama outside! Carrying Betsy!"
***
J OHN TUGGED BREECHES over his nightshirt, put on a hunting shirt, and took up a lantern. Then he went to the traveler's
I should have gone with them, I thought. I shouldn't have allowed Anne to take her lacquered box in which she kept her treasures. That alone could cause trouble with the other girls. Then MyJohn came up behind me. "Good, you got them off," he said. "It's starting to rain."
As I turned to go back inside the house, I saw a white pigeon on the roof.
***
B Y THE TIME MyJohn was ready to leave that evening, the rain was steady and vicious. He didn't want to go until John returned. John had been away all afternoon, likely at Dorothea's.
We stood under the covered walkway out back. We were alone, and MyJohn looked as if he wanted to kiss me. But I gave him no encouragement.
"Patsy, you've got to stop this," he said.
"What?"
"You know. We're betrothed. Why won't you kiss me?"
I had no answer. I wanted to. The nearness of him, the manly smells of him, the dear familiar arms and hands, the broad shoulders made me half daft with wanting. Did he think it was easy for me?
I let him kiss me. I huddled in his arms, letting him protect me, until we saw John and Barley ride up.
Both were already soaked through. Barley took the horse and chaise into the barn. MyJohn squeezed my hand and went to speak to my brother. Then he rode off.
John and Barley came in about ten. I gave them supper in the traveler's room. Rain slashed against the windows and pinged into rain barrels. When they'd come in, I'd seen through the open door pools of standing water in the back quadrant. And heard water rushing in rivulets in the lane between the slave houses.
"I'm afraid we're in for the worst of it," John said. "Some people at the Hoopers' said the James and Rappahannock are already threatening to flood."
I thought of Mama. And her predictions. But I said nothing.
John and Barley ate in companionable silence. There was something between these two. They'd grown up together, played together. But, while John still retained some of his boyhood friendship with Barley, it had long since taken on a different tone. Barley was a good hand with the horses John was raising for racing. But John was definitely the master now in the friendship.
Men do this better than women, I decided. Just then there was a tremendous clap of thunder. And I jumped. John got up and set his plate down. "You'd best get to your bed," he advised Barley. "Unless you want to bed down in here for the night."
The fire looked inviting. Barley grinned sheepishly. "You got a quilt, I'd just as soon stay in here if'n it's arright," he said.
So a quilt was fetched. Candles were extinguished. John bolted the outside door and the door from the traveler's room to the house, and saw me to my room. It was a comfort to know John was there.
Outside the rain poured down as if the world were coming to an end. I could not sleep for the sound of it.
***
I MUST HAVE slept, after all, though always my mind was conscious of the terrible rain. The wheat crop will be ruined, I thought. The peach orchard brought down. Then I heard a sound, a thump from outside my window. I got up to peer outside, but I could see nothing in the drenching rain.
Then, in a flash of lightning, I saw it.
Under the linden tree by the white fence! A figure, bedraggled and plodding against the rain.
Mama! I was sure of it! My heart leapt inside me. And in her arms she held something. A child?
I ran to Edward's cradle on the other side of my bed. He lay sleeping peacefully. Who, then?
Betsy!
I ran out into the hall and down to her room. Betsy's bed was empty.
"John? John!" I pounded on his door. "John, wake up!"
"What is it, Patsy? What's amiss?" He stood there, half asleep.
"John, I just saw Mama outside! Carrying Betsy!"
***
J OHN TUGGED BREECHES over his nightshirt, put on a hunting shirt, and took up a lantern. Then he went to the traveler's
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