Patriots: Boston

Chapter Eight To be Mrs. Morris

My father came home from the port later that day. He found Zeb and me working in the shop vigorously.
"Where's Isaac?" He asked. "He should be working."
"Can't he have the day off, Papa, or as much time as he needs?" I asked.
"Why would that lazy boy need time off?" My father asked impatiently. "I'll give him time off if he's sick or something, but I won't settle for a stupid reason. Did anything happen while you were with Edes' apprentice?"
I shuttered.
Zeb looked at me and shook his head. "Something definitely happened, Mr. Byers, and I think you should give Isaac at least the day off."
"Care to explain what happened, Liza? Something between either of you and that boy?" My father was getting very annoyed.
"No, Papa! It wasn't that!" I shouted angrily.
"Don't take that tone with me, Elizabeth Byers!" He shouted back.
I composed myself. "We were visiting Doctor Warren and some soldiers came by. Doctor Warren let Eli, Isaac, and me go see what they were up to. They were going to Isaac's family's farm which is very near Doctor Warren's house. They wanted the property but Isaac's father refused to give it to them, so..." I paused, dreading what I would have to say next.
"Go on with your story, Liza," My father demanded.
"The soldiers bayoneted him-" I choked, "and burned the house with Isaac's mother and little sisters inside."
All of the color drained from my father's face. He sat down on a chair in the corner of the store. "Those innocent people?" He whispered.
I nodded, tears streaming down my face.
"Isaac can have as much time as he wants off," my father said blankly.
"Papa," I asked, "do you think Father Ignatius could do a funeral for the family and proper burial for his father? We brought his body back to Doctor Warren's."
"I'm sure he would," my father breathed. "You two get back to work. Where did Isaac go?"
  "I'm not sure, but you should probably leave him alone," I said.
  "Alright, I have some letters to write. You two keep working. Liza, I trust you will take over Isaac's jobs. He was supposed to fill out those trade records and to make sure none of the vegetables are moldy." My father walked out of the room, leaving Zeb and me alone.
"What happened to Isaac is horrible," Zeb said after a long silent pause.
"It makes me not want a war anymore," I said. "Seeing the blood and what it really means to die and what it does to the people who are left behind, it's just so horrible."
"Liza, everyone who is volunteering to fight knows that is a possibility, but they are not afraid," Zeb said.
"Zeb, have you ever watched someone die?" I asked.
"My mother died in childbirth when she had me and my father died of influenza when I was only two. I was too young to remember much about either of my parents and I was raised by my uncle until I came to your family," he explained. "I've lived all my life an orphan, Liza. I know what it's like to not have parents."
"You didn't watch your father die though, right?" I asked.
"Why are you nosy and personal? I didn't see my father die, and even if I did I wouldn't remember it!" Zeb said.
"I'm sorry, I just don't think you really understand," I said. "Isaac knew and loved his parents all his life. They gave everything for him, and he had to watch his father die a horrible and unjust death."
"Well, I'd never know what it's like to have parents who give everything to their children," Zeb said mockingly.
"Oh Zeb, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" I said, embarrassed.
"It's fine! I just want you to realize that the people who will fight the war are willing to give their lives. Isaac's father wasn't a soldier, but a martyr all the same," Zeb said fondly.
I paused and thought about what he said to Isaac.
"He told Isaac to fight so that more people did not have to die the way he did, Zeb. He wanted Isaac to be proud of him for dying this way," I explained.
"That Mr. North was quite a man," Zeb said.
  Zeb seemed to be rather calm about the whole thing. He hadn't seen it. He did not understand the beauty and tragedy of it. I decided he wouldn't. I went back to my records. Then I got an idea in my head.
  "Zeb," I asked, "you haven't courted Penelope in a while, have you?"
He stopped his work. "No one's told you?"
  "No one's told me what?" I asked.
  "I couldn't help but overhear..." My mother said, opening the door. "John! Come in here!"
  "What is it, Aileen?" My father ran in.
  "We should tell Liza her big news!" My mother said. She was smiling.
  "Oh, that news?" My father asked.
  "What news?!" I asked impatiently.
  "Well, you're old enough, and the future of the shop looks a little uncertain because of this war. Lots of girls your age are doing this. Liza, it's time to get serious about your future," my mother said excitedly.
  "What do you mean, Ma?" I asked nervously.
  "Liza, it's time for you to be betrothed!" My mother said with such cheer.
  A million emotions of sadness, fear, anger, anxiety, and regret filled my head. It wasn't like it seemed, right?
  "M-ma? M-may I ask t-to whom?" I stuttered.
She fluttered over to Zeb and me and took both our hands and joined them.
  "Zebulun!" She said, clapping.
   My heart just about stopped. I looked into Zeb's beautiful eyes and they shone with pain. I felt like tears were escaping my eyes again. I was flabbergasted. I didn't want this. He didn't want this. Why was this happening?!
  "M-ma? P-papa? Why?" I asked.
  "It's part of the apprentice's contract. The older and more skilled apprentice, if there is no son to carry on the business, must marry the eldest daughter or the daughter chosen for him to make him a relative of the master he works for!" My mother said cheerfully.
  "With the war coming, the business might not turn out so well, so I need a definite successor for the shop," My father smiled.
  "What's wrong with Billy or Benedict?" I asked.
  "They're too young to for sure inherit the business," my father said.
  "Also, I can't my Liza growing up to be an old maid!" My mother said.
  "Ma, Papa, I can't pledge myself to him right now! I'm 14 years old! I have an entire life in front of me! I can't be married right now!" I complained.
"Other girls are betrothed at your age, and we need to speed this up!" My mother said.
  "But we don't love each other!" I protested.
  "You'll grow to love each other, and this is for the sake of the family business!" My mother pressed.
  "What about me? What about him?" I asked. "You don't love me like that, do you, Zeb?"
  Zeb looked at me, then shifted his eyes and fidgeted uncomfortably. He said nothing.
  "You see? He can't even look me in the eyes! He doesn't love me like that! I can't make that sort of commitment like that! I just can't! You can't make us sacrifice our happiness like this!" I yelled.
  "Liza, this is for the good of the family! You don't need to be madly in love!" My father scolded.
  "I'm not just being selfish! Zeb doesn't love me like this! He loves-"
  "Liza! We don't have a choice!" Zeb interrupted.
  "Zebulun Morris! We have freewill! We're human beings! No one can make us do this!" I yelled.
  "Yes, we can! You two are betrothed and that's that! You won't be married too soon, but you need to know that it's happening eventually!" My mother shouted back.
  "Doesn't God want men and women to be together and love each other?! You really think you can overrule God?" I shouted.
  "Shut up! It's done!" My mother screamed.
   She slapped me across the face, hard. I ran from the room in tears.
  "Aileen, you didn't have to do that," my Father said sternly.
  "She deserved it! Doesn't she know she'll never get a better husband the way she is?!" My mother defended herself.
  Zeb ran after me into the "parlor." I collapsed on the love seat. He touched my shoulder as I sobbed.
  "You love Penelope! They're hurting you, me, and her in this! The business can be maintained in some other way!" I cried. "Why didn't you defend yourself? They would have listened to you!"
  "I can't go against your parents. They're the closest thing I've ever had to my own parents. I'll use God to back me up to," he cleared his throat. "Honor your father and your mother."
  "Oh Zeb, that doesn't count here! They aren't being much better than King George!" I protested.
  "Now Liza," he said.
  "You can't say I'm wrong, can you? No representation on our part!" I said.
  "Alright. Yes, I love Penelope, and no offense, but I don't love you in the way I would if I wanted to marry you," he said.
"You see? This isn't good for anyone!" I said.
"I guess you're right," he said, "We won't go through with this."