Free Home of the Brave by Jeffry Hepple Page B

she said as she gathered
undergarments.
    “I suppose I should
apologize.”
    “Yes you should. To me, to
my brother and, more importantly, to your mother and
father.”
    “To my mother and father?
For what?”
    “For calling her a whore and
him an adulterer.”
    “He told you about that?
About what I said at Christmas?”
    “No he didn’t. But your
mother mentioned it when she wrote to apologize to me for your
behavior. I received her letter just yesterday.”
    “Does she know you’re in
love with my father?”
    “I told you last night that
everyone knows.”
    “I’m surprised that she
hasn’t scalped you or something. She does things like that, you
know. She’s a very violent, uncivilized person with a disreputable
past.”
    Annabelle dropped the
clothes she’d chosen on the bed. “You obviously know less about
your mother than you do about your father.”
    “Does he love you?” Anna
began dressing.
    “Yes.”
    “You love him and he loves
you but you’re not lovers.”
    “Yes. Why is that so hard to
understand?” Annabelle returned to her seat in the
dormer.
    “You must admit that it’s
very strange.”
    “What’s strange?”
    “The whole thing;
particularly a married man being openly in love with another
woman.”
    “I’m certain that your
father isn’t the first man that ever loved two women, Anna. In some
cultures men can have more than one wife.”
    “I suppose the real shock is
that my mother would tolerate it. She’s not known for tolerance in
any form or fashion to anyone for any reason.”
    “How can she possibly change
the way your father feels? For that matter, how could he? If one
could turn off love I would have done it long ago.”
    Anna thought about that for
several seconds. “It might have been kinder if he had never told
Mother about you.”
    “The circumstances and his
character made telling her necessary, but I don’t wish to go into
that now.”
    “The implication being that
you and my father were once lovers but he went back to my
mother.”
    “You may infer what you wish
but that is not what I said nor is it accurate.”
    “There’s no need to get
testy.”
    “Actually there is. My
patience with you is at an end. You may accept or reject what I’ve
told you, but I refuse to discuss it further with you now or ever
again.”
    “Okay then. I’m
sorry.”
    Annabelle cocked her head to
the side. “I think I hear my brother.” She walked to the door and
stopped. “I’ll be back to help you dress.”
    “One question before you go
please.”
    “What is it?”
    “If I accepted your offer
and went with you to Detroit, would my parents have to know about
the baby?”
    “Yes. I’d never keep a
secret from your father.”
    “Then I shan’t be
going.”
    “As you wish. If you change
your mind the offer is open until we sail.”

January 30, 1829
    Montauk Point, New
York
     
    Jane Hamilton turned the
tall, long-legged horse and ran him to the road where a young woman
was walking toward Third House. “Hello there,” Jane said,
struggling to hold the stallion, who was prancing, snorting and
bobbing his head impatiently.
    The young woman stopped and
eyed the horse nervously. “I’m looking for my brother, Thomas Van
Buskirk.”
    Jane turned the horse in a
tight left circle then dismounted and led him back by the reins.
“Thomas isn’t here. You must be Anna.”
    “You must be
Jane.”
    “That’s me.” Jane giggled as
the horse nuzzled her hard enough to make her stumble. She turned
to pat him on the nose.
    “Thomas told my great-uncle
that he was coming over here,” Anna said, watching the horse with
obvious trepidation.
    “He won’t hurt you,” Jane
assured her, leading the animal a few feet away from Anna. “He’s a
first generation Kentucky-bred Arabian. He just wants to
run.”
    “I really must find Thomas,”
Anna insisted.
    “Did you come all the way
from Van Buskirk Point?”
    “Yes. I took the Narrows
Ferry, then a coach to East Hampton