His hands fumbled uncomfortably until he slid them into his pockets. He bounced his gaze off every corner of the room until settling them on me. My body felt like it would burst from the tension of the moment, but I stood my ground.
After exhaling deeply, he returned his gaze to my father. Softly, so that we had to lean in to hear him, he said, “Because I understand your cause…and if I’m being honest, because of Phoebe.” I couldn’t contain a smile as my face became hot. “I’d like not to see her harmed,” he finished, looking down.
My mother glared at me sharply, as if I was keeping a secret. Turning away, my gaze locked on William. His brown eyes softened to the warmest hue.
“Very well,” my father said, his answer stunning me as much as my mother.
“John, please…”
“It’s for the best,” he said. “Get our things. We must leave now.” Without another word, my distraught mother hurried upstairs, teary eyed, while Father gathered his guns and ammunition.
I attempted to speak to William, but could not find words. Only a nod escaped me, and then I too ran upstairs to gather my things.
I hurried to my room and threw a few garments in a sack and then reached under my bed to retrieve my diary and a small box of saved coins. It was then that I noticed William’s bag still on the floor.
As if on cue, a clearing of a throat sounded from my doorway. Without turning, I could feel his presence. Standing quickly, I moved out of his way. “Come in,” I said, wishing I had also cleared the scratchiness in my throat.
“My things—”
“I know,” I said a little more smoothly.
He moved past me like I wasn’t even there and quietly gathered his items into his satchel. Perhaps he felt awkward after his declaration downstairs. Or maybe he regretted it. Or maybe it was a lie. I had to know.
“Did you mean what you said? Downstairs. About me?”
He slowly fastened his bag and turned his gaze upon me. “Yes,” he said stoically, without hesitation.
I was entirely, unrecognizably thrilled on the inside, and somehow his admission made me chuckle nervously. I watched as the smile lines surrounded his charmingly perfect grin as he laughed as well.
The temporary calm was cut short by my father’s shout of “It’s time to go!” from below. In the same instant, we could hear distant cries and shouting beyond the hills, and we were both reminded of the harshness beyond the walls of my home.
Unable to move, I stood frozen, trying my hardest to muster the nerve to head outside into the chaos. Why were we leaving? It felt wrong.
“I don’t want to go,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone.
“Now!” my father shouted up the stairs
“You have to,” William said. “I’ll be with you.”
“But why can’t we just stay and pretend here?”
“Because it won’t last. They will only bring more danger here.” Even though his words were reasonable, my feet would not move. “It’s all right,” he said, stretching out an open hand before me. My gaze quickly settled upon it, and as more battle cries sounded just beyond the window, I knew it was now or never.
Taking his hand, I squeezed it hard, and he led me downstairs to where my family was waiting for us. My mother turned, and although tears were spilling over her lids, she nodded quickly and turned away.
“Do you have your weapons?” My father asked, looking at William.
“I do,” he answered.
“Good. Now take this also.” He tossed William a black coat, which William caught only by letting go of me. “Your red coat may not always save us. I suggest you be prepared to become a rebel if needed. Unless you oppose?”
“No,” William said, without hesitation.
My father looked at him with creases between his brows. “If you have to put this on, there may be no going back for you.”
William folded the coat into his bag. “I don’t want to go back.”
“You’ll fight your own?” my father asked.
“I have no intentions of fighting. But I will help you stand your ground. Even if that means yes.”
I thought I detected a look of satisfaction from my father, but he quickly broke the connection and ordered us onto the creaky porch and into the harshness of a divided world.
***
We knew we would travel through the forest, but weren’t sure where. I could hear my father telling William that his sister lived about ten miles to the west and that my mother had a brother who lived about five miles southwest. Feeling the vulnerability of traveling as a group, William and my father agreed to the shortest distance, so we set out to my uncle’s. There were still several shortcuts that the Redcoats wouldn’t know about, so we hid ourselves well, but it didn’t take long for a thought to occur to me and my parents.
We were heading in the direction of Charity’s house and thankfully my mother thought to ask my father if we should check on them and he agreed. Plus I think he wanted to share words about the impending conflict with her father.
Their house was small, but sat on over a hundred acres, well off the most traveled road, so we assumed they would be nestled at home safely. Unfortunately as we approached the peak of the hilltop we could hear noises. Shouting and cries similar to the ones I had heard in the distance beyond our own home.
“Get down!” my father hissed, ducking his head and forcing my brother’s down at the same time. Suddenly, terrified of what I might see, I obediently squeezed my eyes shut and bowed my head.
My mother crouched frozen beside me, but movement to my left gave me courage to open my eyes. William and my father were inching their way to the top of the hill.
“Bastards,” my father said through gritted teeth.
William was silent, but as soon as he caught sight of whatever it was, he bowed his head, no longer wanting to look. Several horrible scenarios shot through my mind until I could no longer take the suspense. Leaving my mother’s side, I too inched my way to the top. Before I could reach it, my father scurried down to me and held me back.
“What is it?” I pleaded.
“We have to go back,” he said, but I had to see for myself. Rolling away from him, I scrambled to the top. I was met with the sight of what looked like a thousand Redcoats making their way over the hills from every direction. And right in the center was Charity’s house, smoke billowing from the windows.
I sucked in a shocked breath so sharply that I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming. Squeezing my lids closed, I ducked back down, unable to focus. Only when I pressed away the distant sounds of fighting did I hear my father’s commands.
“We have to go back to the house.”
“What? Why?” my mother asked, grabbing hold of his arms.
“Because we are surrounded. Our only chance is to go back home and hope to gain favor with our willingness to host their wounded.”
My mother’s eyes bounced between my father’s, my brother’s, and myself, until she finally settled upon William.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She glanced at him and then my father. “That’s it?”
“Yes, and we must hurry before they discover our intentions.”
“William?” I asked, hoping for some sort of reassurance. Anything.
He stoically looked at each member of my family and then concurred. “I think your father is right,” he whispered, breaking eye contact.
“Now,” my father interrupted, and with one hurried motion we were all on our feet, scrambling back to our home.
The trek from Charity’s took less than half the time it had taken to get there, and our spirits were raised at the sight of our house, standing as we had left it. But just as we were about to emerge from the tree line, my father held us back.
“Wait. I will go first.”
“No!” my mother argued.
“I have to make sure it’s safe.”
“Well, what if it isn’t?”
“I
’ll go,” William offered.
“No,” I shouted, instantly regretting my outburst.
“We’re wasting time,” my father said.
“Then I’m coming with you,” my mother countered firmly. “It’s our home.”
He looked at her in defeat and nodded. Taking her hand, he demanded we stay behind. Taking a glance at William’s weapon, he said, “If anything goes wrong, you must see to their safety. And I swear, if anything happens…”
“I will do whatever I can,” William assured. They eyed each other in understanding, then nodded, but everything felt terribly wrong.
Leaving their bags behind, my mother and father walked hand in hand across our field as we retreated to crouch in the brush. My brother was restless, so I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and secured his small body to me.
Their walk seemed to last an eternity until, finally, they reached the front yard. All appeared well until two soldiers came out of the front door. My body froze, and William placed his hand on my back, but it only made me more tense.
My parents were about a hundred yards away, but I could make out my father putting his arm around my mother. He was moving his free hand as if he were explaining something. After a few moments, they turned away from the house and started walking back in our direction. I sighed in relief and confusion at the same time, but, before I could decipher my reaction, the two soldiers raised their weapons and fired several shots, hitting both of my parents from behind. My hands flew to my mouth in horror as we watched them fall to their knees. Free from my grasp, my brother jumped up and ran toward them.
Realizing my mistake, I lunged after him, only to fall and scramble as he emerged from the woods, shouting for my mother. I pressed my palms to the ground to push myself up, calling his name. Our parents lay motionless in the tall grass.
William grabbed my ankles and yanked me back, pressing my stomach to the earth. His body was heavy, and I protested and cried out, but he clasped his hand over my mouth. For the first time, I felt afraid of him.
“Please!” he hissed in my ear. “You can’t! I’m sorry!” he breathed, burning my earlobe. I wanted him away from me. Away from us. I squirmed and kicked and fought to free myself. Then, another gunshot sounded, and I knew.
True horror seized me as I caught a glimpse of Andrew falling to the ground.
Anger and fear consumed me as I fought to free myself. In the next instant, I was being lifted from the hard dirt and shaken until I was staring William in the face. “I’m sorry,” he urged, his eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry, but we have to go now. Right now. Do you hear?”
Unable to fight him anymore, I let myself fall limp and continued to cry. “I can’t leave them,” I sobbed.
“You have to. I’m sorry. They’re gone. We can’t save them. Please. Your father would want you to go.” He glanced over my shoulder and back to me. “We have to go now!”
“They killed them,” I cried.
“I know. And they will kill us too if we don’t get out of here.”
Had he not mentioned “us” in his plea, I knew I would have never moved, but somehow the idea of losing my family and him was beyond fathomable. With a small nod, he wrapped his arm around my ribs, grabbed our bags, and pulled me into a run. Overcome with horror and unable to suppress the urge, I turned back to steal one last glance at my family. As if the horror were not enough, our house was now ablaze.
I wailed and buried my face in William’s side and willed my feet to go wherever he pulled me. After several minutes of running, he asked me if I knew a good place to hide. Although my mind was clouded with sorrow, I was still able to understand our situation.
“There’s a cave,” I panted.
“Show me,” he said, never breaking stride.
After another hundred yards, we veered off into the thick brush, and I found the small cave that Charity’s older brother had once shown us. It was nestled into a hill, behind two large trees, covered by mature branches and leaves. William crept inside and settled me in and then immediately started re-covering the cave entrance. It was dark and cool in there, but none of it mattered as I curled up into a ball of nerves.
I began to feel cold as the daylight disappeared, and it was only then that William left his watch at the entrance of the cave and came beside me.
I felt so conflicted, wanting him near and far from me at the same time, but having him there was somehow soothing, if perhaps only because I wasn’t truly alone.
With a long, tired sigh, I wiped my face and turned toward him. “What now?” I managed to ask.
“We’ll wait awhile longer and then I’ll go back and check on your family.”
It took a moment to process his words. Concern, fear, and hope meshed together in a fuzzy haze until I focused on the hope. “I’ll go with you,” I said, moving closer to him.
“No.” He shook his head.
“But—”
“No. Your father made me promise to keep you safe.”
“But it’s my family,” I argued.
“They won’t harm me if they find me alone.” He paused and swallowed. “There’s no telling what they’ll do if we’re together.”
I wanted to speak, but just found myself swallowing too.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaning in. His stare was intense and I knew he meant it. “Okay,” I whispered.
“Promise me you’ll stay here.”
“Okay.”
“Say it,” he said. The urgency in his voice brought forward the other feelings of worry and fear. I felt cornered and afraid, but knowing he was right, and desperately wanting to know about my family, I gave in.
“I promise,” I croaked.
Nodding, satisfied, he scooted our bags toward the back of the cave and made a place for me there. With one last glance, he made his way out of the cave and concealed it with precision.
It wasn’t very long before I wanted to renege on our agreement. Thousands of thoughts went through my mind as I began to count the time it would take to get there and back, but after a while, it felt too long.
It was growing colder and darker inside the cave, and the moonlight outside drew me toward the entrance. I slowly removed some of the shrubbery and poked my head out. I didn’t see anything that signaled danger. No campfires, no gunshots, nothing.
I motioned to take a step outside, but heard my father’s fearful voice telling me to stay. Frozen, I listened harder, wondering whether it was really his voice, or a memory. Straining with hopeful ears, I listened and listened, but nothing. Once I realized his voice was only in my head, I closed my eyes and willed his words to continue. It was in listening to the memories that I could not only hear him, but see him. Feeling helpless, but knowing he would want me to stay, I shrank away from the entrance.
Just as I did, a twig snapped, stopping me still. I held a sharp breath and instantly wished I was in the corner where William had left me. But all I could do was remain frozen, only a fraction of an inch away from the moonlit entrance.
A moment later, the sound of rustling leaves came closer, and my breath became strangled in my throat. There was no rock or stick or anything for protection within my reach, so I nearly screamed defenselessly when a dark shadow hovered over the mouth of the cave.
“Phoebe?”
“Oh, my gosh,” I sighed, so relieved that I lunged toward the voice. William wrapped his arms around me tightly. Too tightly. His hold was urgent, relieved, and sympathetic all at once, and then I felt what he already knew.
“My family?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly, still holding me tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said in my ear.
Even though I had seen it for myself, his confirmation, or maybe his invitation to let me mourn into him, caused me to let go and cry again for what I had lost.
He soothed me until I felt relief from him just being there. In pulling away, I was able to see his dark eyes in the moonlight, and could tell that he was avoiding my gaze. Despite his
body language, there was something he wasn’t telling me. “What did you see?” I asked.
He hesitated, searching for words. “Please, tell me,” I urged, needing to hear the truth.
With a deep breath, he looked down.
“I found them still in the field where they were shot.”
Somehow my pain was mirrored in the creases between his brows, and I knew the recounting was difficult for him.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I need to know.”
His gaze found mine again, and it took everything I had not to let my weakness show. I blinked quickly and leaned forward.
He swallowed and took another deep breath. “The house was burned down. All of it.”
“And they just left them there?” The anger was building.
He nodded and slipped out of his red coat.
“I want to see them,” I said, motioning toward the entrance.
“No.” He grabbed me. “I buried them.”
“What?”
“I buried them. In a shallow grave behind the bathhouse.” He looked away again, like he was ashamed. Or maybe saddened. As I gazed at him, trying to decipher his words and expression, it dawned on me that he was shaken. It was my family, but he’d gone back. He’d seen them like that and put them to rest, even though he didn’t have to. I was confused, sad, grateful.
“Each of them?”
He nodded. “Together,” he murmured, and then he reluctantly found my gaze again. “I would have taken more time, but—”
“No, no. Please don’t.” I hugged him instinctively. “Please don’t. I’m grateful for what you’ve done.” At least I knew where they were.
And he came back. I was so grateful. I held on to him until I was calm enough to thank him. After re-covering the cave, we lay down, and I continued to mourn silently. He positioned himself beside me, close enough to where I felt his body heat against mine. After another immeasurable amount of time, he put his arm over mine, but said nothing.
Only when a rustling startled me did I realize I’d fallen asleep. It was too dark to see anything, so I sat up with a start and tried to adjust my vision.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just going to check around outside.”