Father has not left his study since Lowell was brought to him. I have comforted Mother and little James and Emmett as best I can, but you and Jack were always better at that than I. I’ve told them that I believe he didn’t suffer, our Jack. A throat wound is so very swift a death. I’ve told them that he registered a moment of surprise and a brief sensation of pressure on his neck before unconsciousness took him. This is what I have told them.
If you ever read this, sitting in the sun on a cobblestone street in free Boston, you will think me mad, dear sister, and you may be right. Like hunger, once madness is in the air it is likely to take root anywhere. Perhaps my madness might be in continuing to write these letters. For all I know, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia have all burned and this war has been the undoing of us all. What else is there to think with demons at our door and our beloved brother taken from us?
Pray for our dear Jack, Kathy. Pray for all of us, as I shall continue to pray for you.
Your Bess
22
Caroline held the brittle nook of Mrs. White’s arm as they surveyed the frost-glazed garden. The fall herbs had long since been harvested, but trudging through the rows was a habit they’d carried from warmer months.
“Birthroot,” Mrs. White said, pointing at one bed. In its prime, the plant had boasted beautiful crimson blooms, but it was now little more than a frozen stub of frayed leaves. The garden had been glorious in the summer and fall, but the weeks of cold had beaten most of the plants back into the earth. “When eaten, it speeds a baby along. And in a salve it clears insect bites right quick.”
Caroline hadn’t known anything about herbal medicine before spending time with Mrs. White. But over the course of many visits, she’d become a convert. Specially blended teas had eased her moods, broken her headaches, and calmed her nerves. These remedies had proved so effective that Caroline had completely phased out her medications a few weeks ago. Gone were the feelings of flatness and suffocation she sometimes felt on the drugs, and gone, too, was the sense of victimhood that came to her each time she had to obediently count out her pills. The transition hadn’t been entirely smooth, but she and Mrs. White had experimented to find a combination of herbs, teas, and tinctures that worked. Ben’s head would probably explode when he found out, but Caroline didn’t plan to tell him until they’d gotten all the kinks worked out.
“For every problem, God offers a solution,” Mrs. White said.
Lately, her soft voice had dropped to the volume of rustling leaves. Caroline was not the only one for whom the dark days of winter were difficult. Under the spell of cold, Mrs. White had withered along with her plants.
“I meant to tell you, that balm you made for Bub’s teeth has been a blessing. He’s sleeping right through the night again.”
“Such a darling baby,” Mrs. White said. “And how is Charlie?”
“He’s fine,” Caroline said. Maybe this wasn’t strictly true, but he was Charlie. There was no easy answer.
“And Ben?”
“A bit distant, but he’s always like that when he’s working on a book.” Unfortunately, he’s always working on a book, was what she didn’t say. Mrs. White had become the only person she could talk to about such things, though she tried not to complain much about Ben. Caroline didn’t want to be one of those women who constantly whined about her husband. It wasn’t appropriate in so small a village, especially considering that Ben and Mrs. White were both active in the Preservation Society and the Swannhaven Trust.
“It’s a hard season,” Mrs. White said. Caroline had often heard that said about the holidays, and she couldn’t disagree.
After negotiating a good rate with a manufacturer, Caroline had ordered dozens of beds, tables, couches, and dressers for the Crofts. She’d also commissioned larger pieces of furniture for the rooms on the first floor. As much as they’d already bought, they still needed linens, rugs, curtains, dishes, towels, art—and that was just for the interior. Though Caroline had big plans for an herb garden and other landscaping, she and Ben hadn’t even begun working on the grounds. And unless it involved moving furniture or holding picture frames against the wall, she knew Ben would be of little help. As usual, Caroline would find herself shouldering the burden. It would take a massive amount of time to get everything right. Time and money. Always money.
“I like the holidays,” Caroline said—though saying this aloud made her remember that she still needed to cajole Christmas lists out of Ben and Charlie, buy the presents, wrap them, get more ornaments for the trees, bake cookies, bake more cookies, plan a menu for Christmas Day, write out cards, address the envelopes, and decorate the house nicely for the kids. The Christmases of her youth had seemed magical, and she wanted her sons’ to be the same. If she couldn’t be a banker, she was going to be the best mother anyone had ever seen. She wanted the holidays to be perfect, just as she wanted the Crofts to be. Ben thought that this was part of her problem, but Caroline believed in striving for excellence. Still, that left her with a lot to do and little time in which to do it. They hadn’t even taken their Christmas card photo yet.
“It’s right to look forward to happy times, but the winters here have their hardships, too,” Mrs. White said. Coming to the end of a row, they turned back to Mrs. White’s small house, where they would share a cup of tea before Caroline headed home.
Whenever Caroline visited Mrs. White’s cottage, she felt as if she were stepping into the pages of a fairy tale. Inside, the embers of a fire glowed in the hearth, and the ceiling beams burgeoned with bundles of dried herbs. A wall was covered with narrow shelves that held an entire apothecary’s worth of tinctures, oils, tonics, and balms.
Mrs. White fired the stovetop for the kettle and examined the small mounds of bespoke teas on her workbench. Caroline knew hers would have St. John’s wort and lady slipper for anxiety, while Mrs. White’s often had some milkweed and yarrow for her arthritis.
“Maybe you should include some blessed thistle and wormwood in yours,” Caroline said. “For appetite.”