Storyteller (14 page)

“After Oriskany,” Elizabeth begins slowly, “a Loyalist named Han Yost Schuyler told St. Leger that the Patriot side’s General Arnold was coming. He pointed to the trees, as if to say, ‘with as many men as there are leaves.’ ”

Harry finishes for her. “St. Leger retreated, leaving Fort Stanwix to the Americans.”

Was Zee there? Did she see the flag flying over the fort? They’ll never know that. But Elizabeth is sure the war was over when Miller Wheeler drew Zee and the children. Their children, she’s sure of it.

“Yes,” Harry says, even though Elizabeth hasn’t said it aloud, and he buys the drawings, of course.

“Zee for you,” he says. “And the field …”

Elizabeth expects him to say “for me.”

Instead, he says, “The field for Libby.”

On the way back to Libby’s house, Elizabeth clutches the drawings to her. In his way, Miller has told her the story. She can picture Zee as an old lady with white hair under her cap and dozens of grandchildren, one of them Elizabeth’s own great-great-great-grandmother.

On a beautiful spring morning, I stood at the edge of the field with Rachael in my arms and the boys, tall now, next to me
.

The war was over. How long ago it seemed
.

After the British left Fort Stanwix without a fight, John and I came home together. On the way, we stopped, trying to find Mother’s small things, but my cave was gone, buried somewhere under stone or mud from a storm
.

But that wasn’t the important thing. It was the land that meant everything, our land for which we had fought so hard
.

At last, we reached our own green field. Miller found us there; he came toward us, arms out
.

I told Toby and Matthew the story of the war; soon Rachael
will be old enough to hear it, too. I’ll tell her about the dear ones we lost. I’ll promise her we’ll always be free
.

Because it was spring, I reminded the boys of Old Gerard and what he had told me years before. “Look up. See the oak leaves like furry mouse ears? That means it’s time to plant.” The boys laughed as I added my own words: “Whisper to the seeds. Tell them to be happy down there.”

I knew they’d remember those words when they helped their father with the planting, then helped John and his boys, and Julian across the river
.

Miller glanced up from the drawing he was doing of the four of us. “Ah, Zee,” he said. “So many stories to tell.”

I nodded, smiling through a quick glint of tears as I remembered. Hard stories, some of them
.

But now I smelled the bread baking. I had to hurry before it burned again
.

It’s Tuesday night. Elizabeth has spent her last day in school exchanging hugs and e-mail addresses.

Now the duffel bags are in the hall. Elizabeth and Libby stand next to the door, waiting. Pop has called on his cell phone to say that he’s just pulled off the highway. He’ll be there any minute.

Elizabeth looks up at Zee in her thin silver frame, and next to Elizabeth, Libby has tears in her eyes. “You’re coming back,” she says fiercely. “You’re your father’s girl, but you belong to us, too, now.”

Harry has said almost the same thing. “In July,” he says, “we’ll search around together and see if we can find the old caves. Three cousins, why not?”

They probably won’t find anything, but it doesn’t make any difference. She’ll come back for a long visit.

Zee has changed her life.

But as she sees Pop’s car pull up, she can’t wait. She opens the door and runs outside. He’s given her all this; for the first time she realizes it. What had he said? It’s time for you to know your mother’s family.

She stops in the middle of the path as he opens the door. She’s going home to find out about Pop, about his carvings, and about what it’s like to have a daughter who spills things, who’s a little bit messy, but who loves him. She’s going to find out his story. And she’s going to make sure he knows hers.

She can’t wait to begin.

Fort Stanwix was built by the British but fell into disuse before the Revolutionary War. The Patriots rebuilt it, renaming it Fort Schuyler. After Colonel St. Leger’s failed attempts to capture it in 1777, the fort was damaged by fire and heavy rain; it was abandoned in 1781. The fort, once again called Stanwix, has been restored for visitors. Throughout this book I have called it Fort Stanwix, as it was known originally and is still called today.

After he was wounded, Colonel Nicholas Herkimer was taken back to his house in what is now Little Falls, New York. He died of infection several days later. The house is a museum now, and is open to the public.

I’m truly grateful to everyone at the Schenectady County Public Library for their help, and especially to Mary Trivilino for her warmth and encouragement; to Robert Sullivan for his patience, expert knowledge, and willingness to answer my questions, which made all the difference; and to Karen Bradley, who made sure I had a place to work and everything I needed. A wonderful library; wonderful librarians.

I wish to thank Wendy Lamb, my editor, and George Nicholson for their support, and of course, my family: my husband, Jim; my children, Jim, Bill, and Alice. I’m blessed by their love.