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Authors: Mary Sharratt

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BOOK: The Vanishing Point
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"Here." She handed him the clout and stood beside him while he wiped himself clean.

"I thank you, mistress."

She had learned that his given name was Seamus. The Irishmen had names in their own language; Nathan had given English names to all except Finn, James's younger brother. Patrick was Padraig, Jack was Sean, Tom was Tomas, Peter was Peadar, Michael's name in his own tongue was pronounced
Mee-hal.
Nathan had
wanted to change Finn's name to Fred, but no one would call him that. On the last warm day of that year, May had by chance seen young Finn swimming naked in the river. How he had blushed before diving deep beneath the water to hide his embarrassment. Later she had teased him, saying they called him Finn on account of his graceful swimming.

While she, Adele, and the Irishmen were busy with the pig slaughter, Gabriel was off with his dogs, checking his traps. May thought he was shirking his duties, but James said it was better to have him take his dogs far away so they wouldn't go into a frenzy over the fresh meat. Nathan lay in bed, weak from ague. Last night May had laid compresses on him and made him drink a decoction of willow bark.

Patrick and Finn tied the stuck pig's hind legs together and hung the animal upside down on a pole stretched between two trees. Finn placed a bucket beneath the pig to catch the remaining blood.

Adele pointed to another pig, which had been hanging upside down for over an hour. "This one, he is ready. Bring him to the fire."

Tom and Michael each took one end of the pole, carried the pig to the cauldron, and plunged it into the boiling water. After a few minutes, they pulled it out and hung it back up.

Adele touched her arm. "You watch, May. I will teach you." The girl worked over the hide with rosin to strip off the hair. Then she took the long knife from James. "Fetch me the bowl," she told May.

When May returned with the wooden bowl and set it beneath the pig, Adele slit the animal's belly. May's hands twitched as the intestines tumbled out in a slimy mass. The smell was enough to make her retch.

"Later we wash them," Adele said, "for to make the
saucisse.
" Bent over the knot of guts, she stirred them with a long stick. Her face was intent, as though she saw something in that revolting mess that no one else could. May wondered if she could read auguries.

"Please bring me another bowl," Adele said at last.

May fetched it. Adele cut out the pig's heart, kidneys, liver, and lungs. "We will bake them in pie with
épices
and onions," Adele said, as calmly as if she were discussing the weather, even though she held the raw heart in her palm. Joan would dearly admire this girl.
And you must become more like Adele,
Joan would tell her,
if you are to survive in this place.

Adele dangled the pig's bladder in her hand. "On my island, the children they play with this. They blow it up with air." She blew into her cheeks, making them balloon. Her expression was so comical, May had to laugh.

She watched Adele cut away the best joints of meat for roasting that night. May brought another bowl for the scrap meat and the pig's head, which Patrick had sawed off. May cut off the tail and front feet. Finally Adele skinned the animal. The sides of pork went into the barrel of brine the men brought. The skin was left for Gabriel to tan.

"No one goes hungry in winter," Adele said. "This night we cook a big feast. Later we will take some pork from the barrel and hang it in the chimney for to smoke. Then we will have bacon." Fifteen years old, she spoke with the pride of an efficient housewife. May doubted that she herself would ever be as competent. She added wood to the fire before they plunged the next pig into the boiling water. There were still five more pigs to dress.

When they raised the swine out of the cauldron and hung it up, Adele handed May the rosin to strip off the hairs. "This time you try. I will go now to the creek for to wash out these." She picked up the bowl of intestines.

"Wait," May said. "I have heard that you can work magic." She smoothed her hands over her apron to hide her trepidation.

Adele lowered her voice. "Master Washbrook says if I talk of such things, I will get the whip."

"Oh, Adele." May touched her shoulder. "I would never betray you, I swear. My father had a servant named Joan. She was like a mother to me. In faith, I think you are like her. She was wise,
and you are wise, too. She could read the future from a pack of cards." May took her clout and wiped the pig's blood from Adele's face. "I do wish to know my future." She laughed. "To know if I
have
a future."

Adele looked closely at May. "You are not happy here." Eyes shining with sympathy, she took May's hand. If she were any other girl, May thought she would have burst into tears and allowed Adele to comfort her. But she didn't cry, just hung her head. A few yards away the Irishmen sang to drown out the death squeals of another pig. They would not hear her confession.

"He does not care for me, Adele." Gabriel had never forgiven her for the way she had laughed at him on their first conjugal night. Loneliness devoured her. She had come to this shore with a head full of dreams of her new life, and here she was, wed to a boy who hated her. "Mayhap you will think me mad or wicked or both, but pray, can you not charm Master Gabriel into loving me? To make us care for one another as we should?" There was a tremor in her voice, but she chased it away with a hollow laugh.

Adele flashed her a warning look, eyes darting off to the side. May turned to see Nathan leaning on his walking stick. His face was drawn, his skin yellow with ague.

"Sir." The rosin fell from May's hand. "You do not look well. Should you not be abed?" How much had he overheard?

"I go to the creek." Adele snatched the bowl of intestines and hurried away.

May kneaded her bloodstained clout.

"I thought the air would do me good," said Nathan. "But I return now to the house. I only ask that you walk with me, May." He looked troubled. "I fear you and I must speak in private."

The moment has come.
He would inform her that he had no choice but to send her back—a parcel of rejected goods. Father's ashen face paraded before her. Hannah's uncomprehending tears.
You've let us down, May.
She struggled to think what she would tell them, how she could beg their forgiveness for her ultimate failure. The smell of fresh meat and offal made her queasy. Everything
reeked of death. But when Nathan held out his arm, she took it. He looked so weak, as though his walking stick could barely keep him upright.

"Let us go slowly, sir," she told him. "Take small steps. We may rest as often as you wish."

"Young Adele spoke the truth," he said. "You do look dreadfully unhappy. I fear that our narrow world has disappointed you."

May kept her eyes on the path in front of them. "We must all bear the travails God gives us, sir."

"I fear my son gives you no affection."

She wanted to dart into the bushes so he wouldn't see her face. After her first night with Gabriel, Nathan had returned to his own bed, only a yard away from their marriage bed. Had he spent the past five weeks listening with pricked ears for amorous rustlings behind the closed curtains?

To Nathan, she said, "The boy is yet young. Mayhap in time he will grow used to me."

Nathan clutched her arm. "May I tell you something, dear, that I have told no other living soul?"

"I am honored, sir, that you think me worthy of such a confidence." Her heart thudded as the premonition fell over her like a net. Deep down, she wanted to beg him not to tell her.

"Last night in my fever," he said, "I did dream of cold clay. You know, I think, what that portends."

"Pray do not speak of such things, sir. May God grant you many more years."

"In faith, none of us know how many days we have upon this earth." He spoke without self-pity. "This plantation may not be much, a mere smallholding compared to the Banhams' vast estate, but my dearest wish is that it should not die with me. None of the Washbrooks in England ever owned an acre. You may think I am too proud, but how I wish my descendants might transform this wilderness into a bower of abundance. I cannot entrust Gabriel to carry on for me when I am gone. The boy is too dreamy. At least I
may thank God that my son has a strong wife." He cast her a rueful smile.

"Sir, you flatter me. I fear I am not as strong as you think."

"You are," he insisted. "I saw it from our first meeting. When your temper rises, steel shines in your eyes. I think you were descended from some barbaric warrior queen."

In spite of herself, May laughed.

"Forgive me," he said, "for speaking so plainly, but you would make me the happiest man on earth if you gave me a grandchild before I died."

"We must be patient. Gabriel needs more time."

"
Forget
Gabriel." Nathan's voice chilled her.

May stumbled over a tree root. "What do you say, sir?"

"You are a handsome woman. Any young man would be overjoyed to receive your favor."

"Sir..."

"Your father did write to me in all honesty of your history ere you came to join us here."

She pulled her arm away from him. "Sir, do you seek to shame me?"

Clinging to his walking stick to keep his balance, he managed to smile. "On the contrary, that is why I chose you. Better your blood should run hot than cold like my son's."

He looked so feeble that May took his arm again. "I do not understand."

"Sometimes I believe that Gabriel is no son of mine, but a changeling."

"You treat him with no excess of kindness, sir."

"You think me harsh?" He looked unbearably sad. "I mean well for the boy, I do. He is so like his late mother. Clever as a fox, but willful and stubborn, and a loner at heart. Someone has to toughen him up, prepare him to be master when I am gone. Yet when I try to guide him, he defies me at every turn."

They had reached the porch steps. She helped Nathan clamber up, then opened the door for him. "Get you straight to bed."

Instead he sat in his carved chair at the head of the table. "Would you bring me my Bible, dear?"

She brought it to him. "Anon I must return and help Adele before the meat rots."

"And beg her to work witchcraft over the severed pig's head?" Before she could walk away, he clasped her hand. "Pray sit with me.

Just for a while."

Letting out her breath, she sat.

"Speak the truth to me, dear, and I will speak the truth to you. I have seen looks pass between you and James."

"Sir." She broke into a sweat, scalp itching beneath her linen cap. Her bodice, laced too tightly, chafed against her breasts.

"He is so young and handsome." Nathan's voice dwindled to a whisper. "How could you not desire him?" Head bowed over the Bible, he looked plaintive and vulnerable, no longer the master of them all but a soul snared, in thrall to a desire that he could neither confess nor banish. May had not failed to notice the way he gazed at James, never quite able to mask his longing. She could not see his eyes, only his tears splashing down on the calfskin Bible cover. Raising her hand, she stroked the back of his neck.

"Bless you," he said. "You are a dear child."

They sat a while in silence. It was a curious comfort that she and her father-in-law were both impure, each in their own way. Their secrets united them.

At last Nathan looked up from the Bible. "James has not had a woman in three years. I know he desires you."

May covered her face. "How can you speak to me like that?"

"I speak the truth," he said gently. He took her hands and pulled them away from her face. "If this household is to endure beyond my lifetime, we need an heir. Even if my son one day learns to use his pintle, I doubt that he can father children. Your father is a physician. You must have learned that a woman cannot conceive unless the man brings her to the heights of pleasure."

"Sir." If Nathan hadn't been holding her hands, she would have bolted out the door.

"Have other men before him moved you to ecstasy?"

She looked away. "What of it?"

"What I am telling you is that I shall welcome as my true and legal heir any child born of your body. I have already written as much in my will. If you gave me a grandson and heir sired by James, I would die a happy man." He pressed her hands between his own.

Blood rushed inside her head. When she closed her eyes, she saw stars. "You give me leave to betray your son and commit adultery?" Her voice hardened. "You would have me ruined. I have seen what men do to adulteresses here."

"May, no." Nathan's eyes filled with tears. "Anyone who wished to dishonor you would have to kill me first. I swear it in God's name." He laid his palm flat on the Bible. "I do solemnly swear that any child born of your body shall be my legal heir, as already written in my will, and I shall see to it that none trouble you with accusations of uncleanness."

After a long pause, she asked him, "What is Gabriel to make of this?"

"I think, in truth, he would find it a relief to be troubled by this business no longer." She saw a glint of fatherly compassion in his eyes. "The boy is happiest when left alone to wander the woods with his dogs."

May nodded. She could already imagine Gabriel's secret happiness in this reprieve of duty. Still, one thing troubled her. "Sir, forgive me, but what should happen when you are no longer here to enforce your will?"

Nathan looked at her not as a father-in-law to his son's wife, but as an equal, as though she were a man in his eyes. With a rush of emotion, she remembered that it was the same look Father had always given Hannah. "When I am gone," he said, "you will be mistress here and mother of the heir."

***

The following day, in the shed behind the tobacco barn, Gabriel worked the two-handled knife over the pigskin pegged over the fleshing beam. The beam was fixed at an angle, allowing Gabriel to press his body weight against the skin to keep it taut as he scraped away fat and membrane.

In one corner was a barrel filled with a mixture of creek water and pounded pig brains, which he would use to tan the hides he wanted soft and supple. These skins needed to be soaked for just a few days. A barrel of mashed oak bark and water occupied another corner. That was for treating the hides he wanted tough and waterproof for shoemaking. He would soak the chosen hides in the bark water for half a year, eventually moving the barrel into the pantry and placing it at the rear of the chimney so it wouldn't freeze.

BOOK: The Vanishing Point
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