Read Online The widow's war by Sally Gunning - Free Book Online

just asleep after thrashing me about for hours.”
    Lyddie stepped forward and cupped the two nearest girls’ shoulders. “These two might sleep with me and keep me warm.” She looked to Mehitable but saw nothing in her eye but the hard gleam of a reflected candle.
    “Bethiah and I might share with Aunt Patience and our littlest cousin,” Jane said. “And Nate could take the two boys in with him. What say you, Father?”
    “Oh, yes, yes, yes. All right. Move along, now, all of you. But I’ll ask you to make no habit of this, Sister.”
    Mehitable spun around and returned to her room, leaving her children to deal with their respective charges. Lyddie guided her two young guests to her room. “What an adventure to be out in the dead of night,” she said. “Tell me, did you see any stars?”
    They recounted the positions of the Seven Sisters, the Dipper, the Great Hunter, and by the time they were through they were settled under the blankets. They were quickly asleep, but Lyddie lay awake, reminded of the comfort of another warm body in her bed, until she took a sharp blow from a small elbow.

     

    Silas Clarke arrived the next day to collect his family, his head slung low between his shoulders, but if he was expecting reprimand from his brother he received none that Lyddie heard; in fact, the matter was not discussed again until the next day, the Sabbath.
    The Reverend Dunne’s sermon addressed God’s call, not to the righteous but to the sinners, the reverend declaring this call encompassed every one of them, for a sin in the heart was as great as a sin in the flesh. He concluded with a sweeping promise of redemption that tired Lyddie to the core, but it brought Deliverance Smith to her feet to confess her grievous sin of drunkenness and bad language.
    Once outside Bethiah asked, “Why didn’t Uncle Silas get up and confess his drunkenness, Papa?”
    “Because a man may take his drink,” Nathan answered. “Our sister makes too much of it, disturbing my peaceful home at the slightest suggestion.”
    “I’d not call a kitchen knife a suggestion,” Lyddie said.
    Nathan turned to glare at her before herding his family to the left, toward the inn. Lyddie turned right.
    Mehitable called after her. “Mother! Where are you going?”
    “Home. I’ve a great headache coming.”

     

    Untruths did not sit well with Lyddie. As soon as she reached her room she went down on her knees to make herself right with God, but all the old words eluded her. She couldn’t beg forgiveness for her own actions until she forgave God his, and there it festered, until God in his infinite justice delivered the headache she’d feigned to avoid his sermon. But neither feigned nor real headache saved her; as soon as Nathan came home he took pains to seek her out, inquire solicitously after her health, and then quote the bulk of the reverend’s message, ending with a flourish: he who neglects God in this life will face his eternal wrath hereafter.

11

    Lyddie continued her walks to the water, although for what reason she couldn’t say, as they did little to comfort her. If the sea lay calm she felt angry; if it roiled she felt despair; if it fell in a place between she felt unsettled and on edge, but still it drew her. On a day of rough seas she found her boots caught in the wash, and instead of moving back she moved forward, until her hem was caught and the water began to pull at her. At the feel of the pull she leaped back, but not before she got drenched to her thighs, and as her luck would run, on the walk home she ran into Eben Freeman just exiting the Cowett house.
    “Widow Berry! What on earth has happened to you? Did you fall?”
    “I forgot to mind my feet, is all. You were visiting the Cowetts?”
    “On a matter of business. I’m sorry, but you make me ask…others have mentioned…you walk often to the water?”
    “Now and then. I’m surprised to see you here.”
    “I’ve been much in town. Or do you mean here, at