A few men remained in the main chamber talking amongst themselves.

  Mr. Grimes met her at the entrance and directed her to a more secluded room across from the main dining chamber.

  “Amity.” Simon waved her over to a table by the fire. “It’s hardly a quiet place to work.”

  “Aunt Clementine is asleep already and there is nowhere else to be.”

  “Sometimes I do my best thinking in coffee shops.”

  “That’s hard to believe. How do you think?”

  “Something about the world going on around me. As though it’s taking care of itself and can do without me for a little while.” He glanced down at the table with a hint of rose in his cheeks.

  A door clicked open in her heart. “I’m afraid I’d find it too distracting to go to bed when a party is going on downstairs.”

  Simon drew up and leaned back in his chair, loose limbs draping over chair arms, legs spread out. “Your father told me you are working on a book.”

  It was Amity’s cheeks on fire now. “At first I thought I wanted to travel to write better books for my sisters and brothers. Then I got to Williamsburg, and I met those women, and I knew I needed to tell their stories. Now we are on our way to Winchester and I feel I should write about my travels. You might well say I’m in a quandary.”

  Simon sipped his coffee.

  “It’s all right if you laugh now.”

  “I’ll not laugh.”

  “Oh, scolding then. List for me the reasons why I shouldn’t pursue writing.” She counted them on her fingers; “The doors are closed to women…it’s too dangerous for a woman to travel.”

  “I’m not doing that either.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because it’s not the kind of thing you say to your friends.”

  Wonderment blew through her mind like a freshening wind. “Do you think we can be friends?”

  “I think so, don’t you?”

  “I’ve never had a male friend before. They were always suitors or Field’s friends—like you.”

  “With only one sister I never really had the choice.”

  Amity must have looked puzzled for he continued, “We only had each other, so we became close. I like to think Hester and I are friends.”

  The faces of her siblings played across her memory. “There’s so many of us—I am not sure we are friends—it feels like we never quite have enough time. There’s always something to be done for one of us. I guess I’m closer to Field than the others, but I love them all.”

  “I always envied Field that problem. My ideal is to have a house filled with little voices.”

  “It is not all joyful sounds.”

  “I’m sure not, but it must be better than the silence of my house.”

  Drunken voices leaked into the room.

  “Would you care to walk? I expect the evening will be as fine as the day.”

  On the porch, Amity drew her woolen shawl closer wrapping her hands underneath to keep them warm.

  “It’s crisper than I thought it would be.” Simon rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Would you care to go back inside?”

  “Not at all. It was getting stuffy in there with the fires and all those men.”

  Simon crooked his arm. Amity placed her hand on his sleeve, and the gnats returned to her belly. Stepping through golden rectangles of light they made their way to the back of the tavern. Beyond the kitchen and other dependencies lay a dirt track through a harvested field. Moonlight dimmed the stars.

  “Why did you agree to accompany us?”

  “Look, just because you ask a question does that mean I have to answer it?”

  “I thought you said we were friends. My friends and I talk about everything. Certainly, something as simple as why we went on a trip.”

  Animals snuffled in stable as they traversed its length.

  “Everything?”

  Amity was quiet for moment while she thought. “Yes. I can’t think of anything I would need to keep from Robertine Glassock. Only mundane things that would bore her curls straight.”

  Simon rasberried, took a deep breath, and snorted. An outright laugh shook her hand from his arm.

  Amity stared at him. By now, he was bent with laughter. If he stood up, she expected tears. “What is so funny?”

  He gasped for air.

  Amity released an embarrassed giggle.

  “An image of my sister, Hester.” He gasped. “Curls straight out…one at a time as she listened to me talk…” He curled over again. Strangled laughter escaped.

  Amity gave him an indulgent grin. Then in her mind’s eye an image appeared of Aunt Clementine at the dinner table with Papa. Papa loved to talk politics. Ping! One of Aunt Clementine’s curls pulled out straight. Papa continued. Ping! Another. Clementine was unaware that her lack of interest was showing as one by one her curls straightened and stuck straight up…soon Amity’s laughter blended with Simon’s. Amity grabbed his arm to keep from landing on the damp ground. He placed his hand over hers. Tears still streaming, she finally stopped laughing.

  Simon quieted.

  Amity stopped breathing.

  Simon leaned toward her as he straightened.

  A breath passed between them.

  “Park ’em over there!” The stable hand shouted to the rider.

  The intimacy between them evaporated in the voices from the barn.

  “Well, this is awkward.” Amity looked at the ground and then to the sky.

  “It is.” Simon took her hand and placed it back on his arm. “I’ll take you back in.”

  Every limb was alive. She wanted to jump and run. “It is a fine night though.”

  “Yes, but your aunt was right. It will be a long day tomorrow, and we should get some rest.”

  14

  “You will miss riding today, I think.” Clementine didn’t look up from her stitches as the coach pulled away from the ordinary.

  Mr. Grimes had no replacement for Ruby, who trotted back to Williamsburg behind the rider who came to fetch her last night. Amity found she didn’t mind a little time and space to put Simon Morgan back in the place she’d kept him in her mind for the past ten years.

  “It is another glorious day,” Amity sat her travel desk on her lap. “But I shall try to put the time to good use.” She anchored a clean sheet of paper with one thumb turning her gaze out the window to order her thoughts.

  Simon touched his hat in greeting.

  Her belly got the jitters. She inclined her head. He made her feel like a grown woman and a schoolgirl all at once. Last night they laughed like she hadn’t laughed since they were pranking children. Last night. He would have kissed her if the rider had not arrived when he did. She was sure of it. Her first real kiss. Old dreams revived at the thought. He might try tonight if Clementine was absent again after dinner. “How are you feeling today, Aunt?”

  She really must get these feelings in check. She decided her future with him years ago. She wasn’t about to change her mind on a bit of whimsy. Friends is what they decided. Just friends. It was for the best.

  “I am very well. I pray our accommodations at Emerson’s this evening will be as clean as Mill’s was last night.”

  “I am truly glad.”

  “Me, too. I’m not one to lay about, but a good night’s sleep is not to be underestimated.”

  Simon’s movement outside her window caught her eye once again.

  Simon nodded ahead and sped out in front of them. He sat his horse as though Pilgrim was an extension of his own long limbs.

  The coach dipped into a close wood. Shadow filled the conveyance with damp March cold. The last hint of warmth was gone from her brick. She placed the extra blanket over Clementine’s knees.

  The ground beneath them got rougher as though they traveled across a road woven of tree limbs. Amity lurched from side to side. She gave up on anchoring the page and tossed it into her desk.

  Aunt Clementine dropped her needles and braced herself against the coach walls.

  The coach slowed.

  “At this pace we won’t see Emerson’s tonight.”

  “It’s bound to get better soon, Aunt.”

  “William traveled up and down these parts. He knew all the good places to stay. I don’t remember him saying anything about a place between here and Tappahannock. Of course if it was rough he rode his horse and did not tumble around in a carriage.” Sadness deepened the gray in her hazel eyes.

  “We’ll make it. Simon will make sure we get through.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “He’s like Field.”

  “Is he?” A mischievous smile hung about her lips.

  “It is a reasonable thing to recognize someone’s good qualities without needing to marry them.”

  “Hmmph.”

  The crack of the wheel reverberated through the woods. The coach listed to its right side and stopped.

  Amity gave Clementine a steadying hand. When she pushed, the door bounced off a tree on the side of the narrow lane.

  Simon waited on the other side to help them down.

  “Damage?” Clementine didn’t wait to head to the broken wheel on the other side.

  “The wheel gonna have to come off,” Jax hollered.

  Simon’s hands on her waist once again sent the gnats swirling. Her gaze caught his. Anxiety spiked in their depths. “I’m safe.”

  Relief caressed his features.

  Did he feel it too?

  Thick forest began barely two feet from the broken wheel. A frisson of energy infused Amity when she brushed against Simon as they squeezed shoulder to shoulder to get a better look.

  “Reparable here, I think. It will take a little time. If we packed…” Simon said.

  “We got tools and some wood back in the luggage wagon, Mr. Simon. But that wheel gonna have to come off.”

  “How far back?”

  “Not too far, be here just in time for us to break out something to eat.”

  “The food is in that wagon.”

  Jax grinned. “Yes, Miss Amity, but if we was to have food and take it out, and make us ready to eat, right as we set down, the other wagon will be here.”

  “Yes, well. What do we do in the meantime?” Clementine drew her cloak around her. “I’m freezing.”

  The coach door swung open when Simon touched the latch. “Seems steady enough.” He pushed against the sides before he pulled out a traveling blanket for Clementine. To Jax he said, “We scout out something to prop it up with while we get the wheel off and repair it.”

  Amity stepped up behind him. “Let me get my things off.”

  “There’s not that much.”

  She grinned at him. “Surely you don’t need to be lifting traveling bricks for no reason.”

  He bowed away with a flourish. “We shall procure a wedge.” He and Jax stepped into the woods.

  Shortly after she’d stacked the traveling bricks and the small bags next to a tree root well out of the way, the rustle of their second wagon echoed in the woods.

  Jax and George took a saw to a fallen tree a few feet from the road.

  Lucy prepared a meal of bread and ham. It was gone before Amity saw any crumbs to clean up the three men stood to appraise the damage once again.

  Jax rolled the log next to the coach.

  Jax and George stood on either side of the wheel. Jax stood head to head with Simon. George wasn’t much taller than Amity’s five feet.

  “If I push it up, you could stand up the log,” Jax said.

  Pointing to the coach, Lucy interrupted. “Jax, you can’t push that thing all by yourself. Let George help, I can stand that log under there.”

  Simon removed his coats leaving him in his shirt sleeves.

  Amity shifted her gaze to the much safer Lucy to keep from staring at Simon.

  “Jax and I will lift. George, you stand the log,” Simon ordered.

  Lucy’s mouth firmed into a straight line. Obviously, she didn’t think that would work either.

  Amity agreed and took her place beside Lucy ready to dive under and push the supporting log into place.

  Jax stood at the rear side of the wheel with Simon at the front side. The two men placed their backs to the coach and bent their knees.

  “You ready?” Simon called to George.

  George squatted behind the log. “Yes.”

  On the count of three, Simon lifted. The coach raised a breath from the ground.

  George thudded the stump against the bottom of the coach.

  They let the coach down slowly. George stayed in position.

  Simon peered at Jax. “One more time.”

  Jax nodded.

  Simon took a breath that expanded his chest. Amity thought his fitted shirt might rip from the pressure of his strength. They lifted, and George fitted the log in place.

  Simon clapped Jax on the back. The two men stood. Simon flexed, stretching arms over his head.

  Amity couldn’t look away from Simon’s muscles this time.

  ~*~

  The horizon had softened into a red-orange haze, and a stiff wind joined them by the time they reached Tappahannock. Soreness reminded Simon of the muscles he needed to exercise more often. Traveling always interfered with his regimen. But this journey was worth every inconvenience he’d encountered so far.

  Mrs. Foster’s husband had indeed known what he was about in choosing accommodations. Mill’s had been clean and the food respectable. Tonight they were to lodge at Emerson’s. If reports were correct, they were in for more of the same. Clean beds and Mrs. Emerson’s reputation in the kitchen were renown.

  It looked no different from other ordinaries. White clapboard, black shutters, large porch on the front, and five dormers across the roof. Friendly light shown from clean window lights. Mrs. Emerson ordered the care of their horses and carriages. Once she directed her staff, she led them into a private dining chamber.

  “Well, let’s hope that will be our only adversity on this trip.” Clementine said as she relaxed into a chair.

  “We have a long way to go Mrs. Foster.”

  “I understand that, Mr. Morgan.”

  They took the rest of the meal in silence. Simon found Mrs. Emerson’s bread earned its reputation, crusty on the outside and soft on the inside. He inhaled the first piece before the fresh churned butter melted. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d gotten in the cold. He could have ridden in the carriage with Amity and her aunt, but he’d rather face the cold than the awkwardness in the carriage. He took a deep drink of warm coffee. The liquid slid down into his middle, and held in place by the bread, warmed him.

  Laughing with Amity last night took Simon back to their young courtship. He didn’t kiss her then because Field was his best friend. She’d been so young. Too young to know what she wanted, at least, that’s what he thought at the time. He’d miscalculated about her knowing her own mind then; he wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

  The way Amity’d lingered in his arms when he lowered her out of the broken carriage suggested the awkwardness was behind them, but he never knew with Amity. He’d yet to decipher the mystery of her stormy eyes.

  “Would you care for a walk tonight, Simon?”

  “I thought after today you would both prefer to sit by the fire and stay warm.”

  “Exactly what I intend to do, Mr. Morgan,” Clementine said. “I plan to spend the evening with Mrs. Peabody on her latest adventure, tucked next to the fire in my room.”

  Amity’s rose lips smoothed into a grin. “I thought to take a look around Tappahannock. It’s my first time here. Unless you think the day is too far gone.” Her challenge was unmistakable.

  “No, in fact I see the gamers are starting to arrive in our hosts’ main chamber.” Clementine nodded her disapproval toward the room behind Simon.

  “I’d be happy to escort you around the neighborhood if that is what you would like…”

  “I would.” Amity followed her aunt upstairs and returned wearing her heavy woolen cloak. A soft charge sparked under his skin when she lightly placed her hand on his offered arm.

  Cold, hard dirt packed streets tamped the sounds of boots and wheels as people moved around the village. From Water Lane they took a right on to Prince Street. On their immediate left The Scots Arms Tavern hummed with sounds of tinkling glass and laughter. In the next block on the right side of the street candles glowed in the windows of Whitlock’s Ordinary, where more men sat around tables shuffling cards. Shouts and laughter spilled into the street.

  “Shall we turn around? It seems that all Tappahannock is gaming tonight.”

  Amity said nothing but deftly followed his lead when he headed them past the taverns once more. “’Tis a busy place.”

  Simon only nodded. It was his job on this trip to keep Amity out of danger while she explored the world she had yet to see. Hopefully, there was more to see of this town than rowdy taverns.

  The wind had blown off the clouds leaving behind a clock-stopping cold. If he guessed right, the next day would be downright frigid. He should plan on riding in the carriage tomorrow.

  In the block past Emerson’s a large brick house overlooked the street. Candles in those windows shone on a family in their parlor. A man sat in a high-backed chair with a book by the fire. On the other side, a woman sat with her needlework. Three children were sometimes visible as they moved about.

  Amity pulled them to a stop. “Do you suppose that is his wife?”

  “Maybe it’s his sister that keeps house for him.”

  “She does favor him a little.”

  “They say that a man and his wife grow to look like each other as they age.”

  “They’re not aged. They aren’t much older than we are.”

  “But as you say, she does favor him a little. Perhaps we tend to choose people who look like ourselves naturally, without thinking about it at all.” Simon mused.

  “You don’t look like me.”

  They both stopped.

  She quickly looked down the street.