discover that he had a rival.
Toward the end of July Nicholas came for supper and as he visited with the family, he told them that he would be leaving the next day for New York. Phoebe felt her heart drop in her chest and hoped her feelings were not displayed on her face. She glanced at Alice, but her sister was polite and smiling as always.
“We’re sorry you have to leave,” she said, “especially with a war going on. That must be frightening.”
“When is the war going to start?” demanded Jonathan, a tall husky boy of twelve. “I wish I could go off and fight.”
Sarah threw an alarmed glance over her shoulder as she rose to refill the pitcher in her hands. “Nonsense! You’re much too young! It’s bad enough that your brother wanted to turn soldier.”
Nicholas smiled at the boy. “He’s no smaller than some of the drummer boys with the army now. But no, Jonathan,” seeing Sarah’s expression, “you’d better stay at home till you’re a little older. Your mother would worry. Unfortunately, the war won’t likely be over before you have your chance.”
“He’s big for his age,” Sarah returned, “but he’s too young. I don’t want him to get any ideas.”
She began to clear the table, stacking pewter plates with little bangs and thumps, and Phoebe rose to join her. The males of the family filed out of the kitchen.
“I need to take leave of you now, Mrs. Fuller,” Nicholas said. “Thank you for your hospitality these last few weeks, and for this fine supper.”
He smiled at Sarah and then at Phoebe, a quick, engaging, mischievous smile with those little crinkles around his eyes. Phoebe smiled in return. She saw him speak softly to Alice, and the two of them disappeared through the door together. Phoebe bit her lip, swallowed hard, and began to fill the basin with hot water from the fire.
She couldn’t blame Nicholas for choosing Alice as the object of his interest. It was surely the most natural thing in the world, and although she could not observe the developing relationship without a few pangs, they were pangs of sadness rather than resentment.
I suppose Nicholas is not for me, Lord, she prayed silently as she began scrubbing the plates and cups. In these last few weeks, he had never once distinguished her by any particular attention. Lord, I suppose this means there is another man for me somewhere—if I ever do marry, that is—and after all, I don’t know Nicholas very well. He is attractive and charming, but that doesn’t mean he is the sort of godly husband that I would want.
She resolved to put Nicholas out of her mind—at least while he was out of town—and was assisted in this worthy resolution at the end of July by another unexpected arrival. The family was gathered around the supper table one evening when they heard the front door open without a knock, then heavy footsteps in the hall. Sarah called sharply, “Who is that?” and Phoebe exclaimed, “George is home!” just as her brother burst through the kitchen door.
There were cries and embraces all around, beginning with her mother, followed by Phoebe and her little sister Sally. Alice rose to offer her brother a light kiss, and her father gave him a quiet smile and patted his back as he joined the family around the table.
“Here, fill your plate, you must be hungry after your trip,” Sarah told him, bustling to bring the platter of turnips and the pot of lentil soup. “Sally, run and fetch your brother a cup of buttermilk; he’s thirsty. Surely you didn’t walk all the way from New York?”
“Nay, and I’m thankful, for that would have used up my whole leave, and I’d need to turn right around as soon as I got here.” George laughed as he broke off a hunk of bread and lathered it with thick yellow butter. “I was fortunate enough to meet up with a trader a few miles outside of New York, who offered me a ride in his wagon for a few shillings. But now I’m completely penniless, and half-starved to