Part 12 (2/2)

”You Yankees never cease to amaze me,” I say, and after I have thought on this a bit and thought back on my own case, I say, ”Yes. I have bundled and I did find it most pleasant.”

There's hoots and I get called ”Tacky Hotbottom” and there's pillows thrown and shrieks all around until, finally, down below, the father of the house takes up a poker or some such thing and gives the floor beneath us a few sharp raps and issues a m.u.f.fled threat to beat us all to sleep if we don't quiet down and let a poor workingman get his rest and why was he cursed with daughters, and we do it, we blow out the candle and quiet down. We settle into the big bed with the big fat feather-tick blanket over all of us. Feeling all their bodies, both big and little, snugged in around me, their breathing growing slow and even, reminds me of the old kip neath the Blackfriars Bridge in London, with Polly and Judy and me and the rest, 'cept it's warm and clean here and our bellies are full, and there it warn't like that at all.

As I fall asleep with Jaimy's ring in my fist, I hope with all my heart that he and I still got an understanding. My letter is on its way to him, the one where I told him about my disgrace and told him I ain't never gonna be a lady, and he ain't gonna like that, no, he ain't gonna like that at all. Oh, I could've written lies about how good everything was going but I don't want to lie to him, not now, not ever. And if it comes out that he don't want me no more because of it all, well, I'll deal with that when I find out for sure.

Chapter 15.

Tonight I resolve to check out the widow's walk, which is what the girls tell me the porch thing on top of the school is called. I had spotted the stair rig hanging up in the rafters overhead in the shadows at the other side of the long attic room the first time I was brought up here but hadn't worked out how to get it down. I had thought the ladder was fixed up there permanent to keep people from going up there, but tonight, when I bring the candle over for a closer look, I see that the whole thing is counterbalanced with weights and that a pull on the rope hanging from it brings the whole thing smoothly down to my waiting foot. I climb up toward the hatch above my head and when I reach it, I give it a shove. To my surprise, it opens and I see stars above me. I go up through and stand and look about.

Annie says porches on tops of houses like this are called ”widow's walks” 'cause that's where women whose husbands are at sea pace about and worry and fret and look out across the ocean in hopes of seeing their husbands come home safe. The name, of course, hints at the fact that many of those husbands don't come back safe, or even come back at all.

I stand there and look out over the sea and hope I ain't a sort-of widow. I hope with all my heart that Jaimy is safe and has warm clothes and is in good health. I hope he's got a plate of good food in front of him and a gla.s.s of good wine in his hand. I hope all that, I do, and if you want to call that a prayer, so be it.

The town is all spread out beneath me, lights in bedroom windows twinkling and going out, one by one, and the sea glinting under the light of the full moon, which has just risen and sits low over the water. It is a lovely, warm night and a slight breeze blows my skirt about my knees as I stand there and hope my hopes and dream my dreams.

I look for faithful Polaris, which should be right- A light in the church catches my eye. The window is right below the belfry, and in the light stands the Reverend Mather. He seems to be shouting and gesturing wildly with his arms.

I duck down so he don't see my silhouette against the bright moonlit sky and I watch him through the branches of the big tree that stands between the church and the school, touching the roofs of both.

Sometimes he's at the window and sometimes he steps back, but he keeps coming back and waving his arms and pointing, always pointing at something outside, and I can see that he's shouting and his face is contorted but I can't hear the words. Maybe he's practicing his sermon for Sunday? No, he can get real worked up in those when he's telling us what sinners we are and how we're going straight to h.e.l.l, but he don't get this worked up, no he don't.

By the way he snaps his head around it looks like he's talking to someone or arguing with 'em, but I get the creepy feeling that there ain't n.o.body in that room but him.

Now he's back at the window and he keeps pointing and pointing and jabbing his finger over and over again, and this time I try to follow his point and my eye goes over the churchyard and over the wall and it lands on the unmarked grave that Amy and I had seen that day by the churchyard, now a little mound of moon shadow in the gloom.

Chapter 16.

We've just finished serving dinner and we're piling back into the kitchen with the dirty dishes, chatterin' and banterin', and I takes my position at the steaming tub and starts in to was.h.i.+ng the dishes when all of a sudden there's a silence and I look sideways and I see that Amy Trevelyne has come up next to me. She does not look as if she has been sleeping well. She pokes me in my side and says, ”You said you were going to be my friend. You were my friend. And now you are not.”

I lower my head and say in a low voice, ”We can't, Miss. I'm downstairs, now. Surely you know that things have changed?”

”That should not matter. What about all your talk of sisterhood? What about the spitting and the joining of those hands? The oath? Was that all false? Was it all a game? All a lie?”

”It was in a different time and place, Miss. I ain't complaining,” I say, not looking at her. ”Why should you?”

I put the scouring pad to the pan and start in to scrubbing. ”Please, Miss. You're making me and the others nervous.”

She sucks in her breath and I hear the rustle of her skirts as she rushes out.

We get the dishes done and are about to do some laundry when Peg up and says, ”Jacky. That lawyer friend of yours was by today and said for you to drop by to see him when you get a chance, his office bein' on Union Street, right next to the Oyster House.”

Hmmm, I thinks. What's up?

”So,” says Peg, ”go down and get some fish for tomorrow's chowder. About six pounds. You do know how to buy fish, don't you?”

”Peg, I was born in a market,” I says, thinkin' back to the old days in Cheapside, and I pantomimes takin' a skinned fish and openin' it up where its guts used to be and stickin' my nose in and takin' a long sniff.

”All right. We have accounts with Fulton's and with Anzivino's. They're both in the Haymarket. Be back in time to serve supper.”

The whole afternoon! Hooray!

”Luckeeeee,” says Abby, and the rest of them hoot at me for getting out of work as I grab a basket and head out the door. It's a warm day and I won't need my cloak and I got my maid cap on as a head cover so I won't have to run upstairs and get my bonnet. I've found out since I got arrested that one of the reasons Wiggins picked up on me that day was that I wasn't wearing a hat, and around these parts that means you're advertising yourself as a bad girl. They could've told me that before I got nailed, jailed, and derailed in becoming a lady, but what's done is done.

This time I decide to take Gretchen cause that'll save me a bunch of time and it's a beautiful day and I love riding her, so that's all the reason I need. I head to the stables.

I don't get to ride with the upstairs ladies anymore, of course, but Henry lets me ride on my own 'cause I help clean up in the stables when I can sneak over to pet Gretchie. He's been ever so helpful to me since I got demoted. He's even let me put a regular saddle on Gretchen and try it that way, and I was right, it is a lot easier-boys always get everything their own way and we girls always got to do it the hard way. I know Henry was scandalized when I rode astride, with my skirt riding up to my knees, but I know he didn't look away.

He still blushes and stammers around me, but he's easier now that we're on the same level, like. I know he's glad I got sent down 'cause now we can be friends, though he don't say so. And I know that he wants to be more than friends but he don't push it, so I don't have to tell him that I am promised to another.

I spy him combing down Jupiter, which is Clarissa's horse that she owns herself. n.o.body else ever rides Jupiter.

”Henry, can I take Gretchen to the market, please, say yes, please,” I say, bouncing up and down and giving him the big eyes.

”I suppose, if you're careful with her, Jacky,” says Henry, and he pulls a saddle off a rack and goes into Gretchen's stall and throws it on her. I could do it, but I know he likes doing it for me so I let him. She whinnies when she sees me, and I take an apple from a bin and give it to her. I love the feel of her lips in my palm as she takes it and then chews it up.

Henry weaves his fingers together and presents his hands to me for a leg up and I put my foot in his hands, but before I jump up, I lean forward and give him a kiss on his forehead and say, ”Thanks, Henry, you're a dear,” and then I take the reins and Gretchie and I head out into the light.

A sisterly peck now and then, what the harm? He seems to enjoy it so.

We cross Beacon Street and ride down through the Common and there's a good firm path there so I get Gretchie up to the gallop and go whooping and hallooing along, scattering goats and sheep that go nay-ing and baaa-ing out of our way till we get to the streets, and then we slow to a trot on Tremont Street and then to a walk on Court Street 'cause I don't want to cause no fuss here, that's for certain, but I blends right in 'cause there's lots of people in the street, both walking and riding, and Gretchen is ever so gentle in the way she picks her way through that there's never an angry eye cast our way.

As we go by the courthouse I catch a glimpse of that hated whipping post and...

...And the stocks. I realize with a start that the stocks ain't empty and the person in 'em is none other than Mr. Gulliver MacFarland, the Hero of Culloden Moor and my former jailhouse mate.

There is a hitching post at the side of the courthouse by the stocks and I dismount and tie Gretchen's reins to the rail and pet her and whisper in her ear so she'll feel safe here where she ain't been before. She flashes me a trusting eye and I walk over to the pillory.

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