“Shame it has to go,” Deputy Simms said.
Harp nodded. “Bound to be some nice things.”
“The Swanns were nice people, a fine family,” the deputy said. “Took in all kinds of kids. Filled that house with them.”
“Yeah? Foster kids? That kind of thing?” Ben grabbed a can of the peaches that Charlie liked. He guessed they were no more healthy than a cup of sugar, but they sometimes bought him a smile.
“Real saints they were,” Harp replied, adding up the groceries.
“Oh, and four of those apples, if you don’t mind.”
“How’s that pretty wife of yours?” the deputy asked.
“She’s well, thanks.” Ben made eye contact with the deputy for the first time. He guessed the man was in his late twenties—about thirty years too young to say something like that without it sounding like a threat. “Happy to be out of the city.”
The deputy nodded and smiled, displaying the black coin of dip wedged in his gums.
“You make sure that roof’s fixed up right, Mr. Tierney,” Harp told him. He took the twenty Ben handed him. “Easiest way to take down a house is to pull off a couple a shingles and wait a season. Hard winters here, too. Rain and snow’s a bother, but the wind’s the real curse. Especially up on the Drop.”
“Thanks. I think we’re in good shape,” Ben said. This wasn’t true, but he didn’t see what business it was of theirs.
Harp frowned and handed him his change.
“The heat, too,” the deputy said. “Gonna need that as much as a roof. Even with that good-lookin’ lady to warm you.” He stretched his arms behind his back casually, letting his muscles tense against his uniform.
“Well, so far so good,” Ben said. He gathered the bags up into his arms.
“I can come up and look at it, if you like,” the deputy said. Ben caught the man send a wink and a smirk Harp’s way. “Be my pleasure.”
“I’ll let you know if it gives me any trouble.” Ben backed into the store’s door. “Have a good day, guys.”
“Nope, that fella don’t need help from the likes of us,” he heard the deputy mutter before the door slammed shut behind him.
Ben put the groceries in the cooler he kept in the back of the Escape and closed the trunk. It wasn’t until he was back on the county road, music blaring again, that he let himself feel anger. He indulged himself by revising the scene in the store. He edited his dialogue, adding an edge that his character otherwise lacked. With this tweak, the confrontation escalated. Instead of leaving with a friendly nod, Ben ended the encounter by throwing the deputy out the store’s window. He closed the chapter by leaving the man’s body lying on the pavement, a stripe of blood stretching from his split lip. A satisfying conclusion, one any reader would cheer for.
He was almost out of the valley, a good ten miles from the Crofts, and he had yet to see another car on the county road. There was no reason for anyone but locals to take this route. He’d heard that Swannhaven had only forty households. Most were scattered across the floor of the valley on tired dairy farms, like the one his grandmother was born on.
When Ben reached the highway, the Escape roared its approval.
The battery of signage confirmed that he’d left the remote and insular world that the Crofts and Swannhaven comprised. There was Montreal up ahead and Boston to the east. The signs told him that he could go anywhere on this road. There was strong Canadian beer, or seafood that had been swimming freely an hour before landing on his plate. Turn around and in only three thousand miles he could watch the sun set over the ocean.
The young man on his iPod sang about crashing a party thrown by the friend of a friend in a sweltering studio off the Bowery. He crooned about vodka and getting high and a girl with green eyes and arms covered with tattoos. The singer didn’t pretend to have it all figured out, but he knew enough that life was good and every moment was a gift.
Ben liked songs like this, but today he skipped to the next track.
April 4, 1776
Dearest Kathy,
I am well and back safely at the Crofts. Thank you again, my dearest, for such a lovely visit.
Jack and the twins were there to greet me in Albany. James has grown nearly to my waist now, and Emmett’s health is much improved since I last saw him. They were both so pleased to be out of the valley and on a real adventure with their elder brother and sister. Of course, Jack wanted to hear everything about the war. And I think the lot of them are in awe of me now, as the three days’ ride gave me much time for embellishment. They had already heard that the redcoats had fled Boston, which is a pity, as I wished to tell them myself so that I might watch their faces. It is true that good news has swift wings.
Mother was proud when I told her of John’s commission with Colonel Phinney, and I believe Father to be pleased, too, in his own way. News of the militia’s battles against the king’s armies had made Mother afraid for us, but finally seeing me in person has again set her mind to rest.
And I know I ought not to say it, but it was an adventure, was it not? You mustn’t think me wicked for saying so. But it was so good to be free of this place, if for only a while. You know as well as I the menace of the woods and the contagious gloom of the ancient oaks.
You must think me foolish to revert to our childhood fears. But what am I to complain about without regiments of British Regulars at my door? You have only yourself to blame, my dear Kathy. You spoil me with bright frocks, bustling cobblestone streets, and nothing less than revolution itself, so this is what you must expect of this provincial relation from now on.
We had a wonderful time, did we not, dear sister? I already miss you terribly. Think fondly of me, and I shall pray daily that God will keep you and your dearest John safe and happy.
Your Bess
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