page14 (1/2)
“When he’s finished” His mother’s tone was unusually sharp, her face set in lines of worry under a starched linen cap “Come, read me the next word”
“N-ame” Marcus slowly sounded out the letters “My name is Marcus MacNeil”
“Yes, it is,” his mother replied “And the next word?”
“Ni-jit” Marcus frowned That wasn’t a word he’d heard before “Ni-got?”
“Do you remember what I told you about silent letters?” His mother lifted Patience from the wide-planked floor and went to the , her brown skirts swishing As she walked, sand cah the cracks between the boards
Marcus did remember—dimly
“Night” Marcus looked up “That’s when Father left It was raining And dark”
“Can you find the word ‘rain’ in your book?” Histhe spaces in the shutters She dusted theh each narrow opening Marcus’s s and allowed no one else to take care of the front roo a week to help with the other chores
“Oak Pain Quart Rain I found it, Mama!” Marcus shouted with excitement
“Good boy One day you will be a scholar at Harvard, like the other men in the Chauncey family” His mother was inordinately proud of her cousins, uncles, and brothers, all of whoone to school for years and years To Marcus, the prospect sounded drearier than the weather
“No I’s of his chair, a sign of his co sound that he did it again
“Stop this nonsense What is a foolish son?” His led Patience up and down on her hip Patience was teething, which y
“A heaviness to his e of alphabet verses There was the proverb—right at the top: A wise son lad father, but a foolish son is a heaviness to hisit out to him
“Recite the rest of the alphabet,” his es of the roo They don’t allow boys to attend Harvard College if they mumble”
Marcus reached L—Liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and bri out the words—when the wooden gate that protected their front garden froeese and the traffic opened His mother froze
Marcus turned in his chair and pressed his eyes to the two holes bored into the top slat The holes were for hanging the chair up on the pegs by the kitchen door, but Marcus had discovered they were excellent peepholes He felt like a bandit or an Indian scout whenever he peered through them Sometimes, when his mother and father were occupied and he was supposed to be doing his lessons or watching Patience, Marcus pulled the chair to theand watched the world go by, i he was on the lookout for heathens or that he was a captain on a ship staring through a telescope, or a highwayh the trees at his next victim
The front door creaked open, letting in the wind and the rain A black wool hat, wide brih the air and landed atop the newel post Marcus’s father used the globe-shaped wooden ball to teach hiraphy Pa had inscribed the eastern coast of America on it with black ink that stained the wood, as well as an irregular splotch that showed how far across the ocean the king was Even so, Pa said, he atching over his people in America Ellie polished the post on every visit, but the ink never faded
“Catherine?” His father stu in the hall and swore
“In here, Pa,” Marcus called before his mother had a chance to respond Marcus had learned not to fling himself into his father’s arms the moment he arrived home His father didn’t like to be taken unawares, not even by someone as small and familiar as Marcus
Obadiah MacNeil stepped into the roohtly on his feet The scent of s followed hi the heavy iron bootjack that normally sat by the front door
Peeking through the chair slat, Marcus saw that his father wasn’t wearing his woolen muffler around his neck as he usually did It was a jaunty red that stood out like the color of the fruits left on the rose bush when the first snow fell Today, his linen shirt was open at the neck, the simple cravat askew and stained
“Chairs are for asses, not knees” Obadiah ran a gri, sharp nose It left a smear of yellowed earth “Did you hear me, boy?”
Marcus swung around and slid his feet over the seat, cheeks burning His father had told hiainst the back of the chair, sending Marcus toward the table The edge hit hi the wind out of him
“I asked you a question” Obadiah braced his ar Marcus ool and that sickly sweet smell The bootjack was still in his hand It was crafted in the shape of a devil, with the prongs of his horned head serving for the heel rest and the long body the brace The devil’s eyes winked up at Marcus, two black holes above a leering mouth
“I’m sorry, Pa” Marcus blinked back the tears Soldiers didn’t cry
“Don’t ain” Obadiah’s breath smelled of apples He stood
“Where have you been, Obadiah?” Marcus’s mother put Patience into her cradle by the fire
“No business of yours, Catherine”
“On West Street, I warrant”
His father didn’t respond
“Was Josiah with you?” his mother asked Marcus didn’t much like Cousin Josiah, whose eyes shifted when he spoke and whose voice echoed against the rafters
“Leave it, woman” Obadiah’s tone eary “I’ to the animals”
“I’ll help, too!” Marcus scrambled off the chair Unlike Cousin Josiah, Zeb Pruitt was one of his favorite people He’d taught Marcus how to string a fishing rod, how to catch mice in the barn, and how to climb the apple tree Zeb had also eese in toere e bite
“Zeb doesn’t need your help,” said his mother “Stay where you are and finish your lesson”
Marcus’s face fell He didn’t o to the barn andat soldier and hiding behind the water trough when the enemy pursued him
His mother hurried out of the room after his father, who had left the front door open to the elements
“Mind that Patience doesn’t fall out of her cradle,” she told Marcus as she took her shan fro and left the house
Marcus stared glumly at his sister Patience sucked on her fist, which was shiny with spittle and bright red fro
His sister would htened
“Do you want to beby the cradle Patience cooed her assent “All right, then You stay where you are No ed”
Marcus rocked the cradle gently, lessons forgotten, and i for his co officer to arrive and praise him for his valor
—
“YOU MUST HAVE BEEN up all night with the coround” Old Madam Porter put a small cup and saucer on the table at his mother’s elbow Marcus could see the wallpaper, blue as the spring sky, through the eggshell-thin cup
Madame Porter’s house was one of the finest in Hadley It had shtly colored paint as well as patterned wallpaper The chairs were carved and padded for comfort The s opened up in the neay, not out like the old casements at their house Marcus loved to visit—not least because there was usually Madeira cake studded with currants and spread with jam o;When he’s finished” His mother’s tone was unusually sharp, her face set in lines of worry under a starched linen cap “Come, read me the next word”