Patriots: Boston

Chapter Twelve Coming Home

    It was dark. Then all of I sudden I was riding through Uncle Tad's fields, the wind blowing hard and cool. I was laughing and bouncing up and down as I rode Agnes. I looked over to Isaac, who was much smaller and younger looking than usual. He was laughing too. I looked down at my hands, which were even smaller than they really were.
"I bet I can beat you to the well!" I teased.
My voice sounded very high. Somehow, I was 10 years old again. Isaac was 11. We reached the well and jumped off our horses. (I won of course.) We tied them to the hitching post and ran over to the well. It was a little well that looked like a fairy tale wishing well. Isaac hooked the bucket onto the string and lowered it down into the water. We both pulled the heavy, full bucket up to where we could reach it. Isaac dipped his hand in the water and splashed me. I splashed him back. Soon we were in a full on water fight near that well. We chased each other until we dropped on the ground next to each other.
Then the world blurred. Soon Zeb, Isaac, and I were running through the streets of Boston. Zeb looked about 15, Isaac looked 12, so I must have been 11. We were laughing and joking and going into the little restaurant where the owner used to give us cookies.
The world blurred again. A slightly older Isaac was standing over me as I opened my eyes. He looked about 13.
"C'mon," he whispered in his high, unchanged voice, "let's go to the end of the wharf and watch the sun rise!"
"Alright," I smiled, "just let me get dressed."
"Hurry!" He laughed.
I met him outside and we walked together down the wharf. It was dark except for the lanterns lining the wharf. We were not walking too fast or too slow. We reached the end of the wharf. There were no warships, just a few cargo ships bearing tea and other English trade goods. There seemed to be no one there but us. We sat down at the end of the port, our legs hanging over the edge. The sky glowed grey and then pink. The rosy pastel glow filled the morning. We sat there beside each other in silence until he broke it.
"Liza," he said, "Wouldn't it be nice if we sat here this morning, not on British land?"
"Why would you ask that?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know," He said, staring out on the water. "Your father just seems stressed lately with all intolerable acts. I feel like we don't need the king anymore, especially if he's just going to take our money and our freedom. Don't you agree?"
"I agree," I said. "This beautiful sunrise might be even more beautiful if we knew it was our own land."
The world blurred again. It was nighttime. Isaac and I were alone in the store. We heard drumming and marching outside and went to see what it was. Isaac peeked out the door before I did. He looked back at me, his brown eyes sparkling. He looked much older than he had on the wharf while watching the sunrise.
"It's the Sons!" He said excitedly.
We stepped out onto the front stoop. I saw the crowd of men and boys dressed as Indians and I realized which night this was. It was the night Zeb had gone out to dump the tea! We watched as the crowd processed through the streets down our wharf. We waved to Zeb when we saw him. He grabbed us each by the hand and brought us along with him in the crowd. We laughed and sang the songs of victory. We stopped in front of the Liberty tree and I jumped up and down, trying to see what they were doing with it. Someone had nailed a flier to it. I was too far away to see what it said, but everyone was cheering, so it had to be something good.
The world went blurry again and we were lying on that hill at Uncle Tad's under the stars. Isaac grabbed my hand and Zeb made his comment. We just kept holding onto each other's hands.
The world blurred one last time. I saw myself in a black mourning dress weeping by a grave.
"Oh no," I thought, "This can't be..."
I saw myself fall down to my knees and gently place a bouquet of wildflowers on the grave. The grave stone read "Isaac North, born August 2, 1759, died 1775."
   At that I burst into tears and sat on the ground with my face in my hands. I cried for what seemed like forever.
  "Liza," Zeb whispered, "Liza!"
  "What?!" I sobbed, opening my eyes.
  There Zeb was, right in front of me in the bedroom at Doctor Warren's.
   "Where are we? What happened to the cemetery?" I asked.
  "Cemetery? Liza, we're at Doctor Warren's. You cried a lot and then fell asleep in my arms last night. I don't blame you for falling asleep, you were up all night and day yesterday, but why are you still crying like that?" He asked.
I looked around the room frantically. Isaac was still in the bed, not in the ground. Zeb was 18, I was 14, and Isaac was 15 again. It occurred to me that all those happy memories were just memories, and the part where Isaac had died was only a dream. I knew now that those happy memories of the past could very well be over and I could possibly have nothing like them ever again. I could not cry about that anymore. I needed to face whatever was next and keep praying that Isaac would keep living.
"Are you alright, Liza?" Zeb asked.
"Yes," I said, swallowing my last sob.
"We ought to head home," Zeb said. "The Doctor will take care of Isaac."
   "Alright," I said with false confidence.
  Honestly, home was the last place I wanted go now. My mother would be livid with anger, as would my father, and the fact we returned without Isaac would not help us.
  We said goodbye to Doctor Warren and rode our horses towards home.
  "Why are we even going home? We should go to a tavern with some other rebels and celebrate the overall victory," I suggested.
  "Liza, think of how worried you family must have been! We have to at least let them know we're alive," Zeb scolded me.
"Fine, but you know we soon won't be once my ma and papa are through with us," I muttered.
  We rode up to the stables next door and tied up and fed our horses. Then we snuck in the back door that opened to the parlor. The entire family was sitting around in a circle, not speaking. I hoped we could maybe still sneak in unnoticed, but that obviously wasn't Zeb's plan.
  "Hello, everyone!" He said cheerfully.
  Everyone turned their heads to stare at us in disbelief.
"Are you two really standing here?" Father Ignatius asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes, it's really us," I said awkwardly,
"I gcás in ifreann raibh tú, Elizabeth Byers?!" My mother shouted angrily.
"What?" Zeb whispered to me.
"Don't ask," I said.
"Where have you been?! We heard rumors you three were dead!" My mother roared.
My father just held me in his arms so tightly I could barely breathe.
"Zebulun, were you in Lexington?" My father asked as he let me go.
"Yes, sir," Zeb said, staring at the ground, "I'm dreadfully sorry I went against my contract."
"I'm not too angry with you, Zebulun. You are a Son of Liberty. I just wish you would have told me before you left. Liza, on the other hand, where were you, and where is Isaac? Please don't say with God!" My father shouted.
"Well, Papa, Isaac wanted to go to Lexington to fight too. I tried very hard to keep him from going, but he went anyway. You know he can't even shoot off a hunting rifle, so I followed him. He was wounded in a volley during the first skirmish on Lexington town green. We brought him back to Doctor Warren's, but he's not doing so well," I explained.
"She also saved my life in the skirmish," Zeb said. "If it weren't for her, we would both be dead."
"Is Isaac going to live?" My father asked.
"If he has the will to, at least that's what the doctor said," I explained.
"So you lost an apprentice!" My mother shouted.
"What about a friend? And, Mrs. Byers, he will live. He'll just be out for a while," Zeb said.
"You stupid boy! That's what they tell you to calm you down when they don't want to tell you that he's as good as dead!" She shouted angrily.
"Ma, you loved him like a son! How dare you speak that way!" I shouted back.
She slapped me across the face, hard. "He's a goner, and I guess that means that you two can get married now without any distractions in the way! Anyway, without Isaac, work can't get done on schedule! We'll have to replace him. He broke his contract! Liza, that replacement will not be you. I should keep you under lock and key, but that doesn't feed us! You'll have to get a job away from those revolutionaries!"
I cried harder, "Ma, he'll be back at work soon enough! He won't die!"
"Even if he does survive, he broke his contract! He is no longer our apprentice!" My mother ranted.
"Ma, that's not for you to decide!" I sobbed.
"It's true, Liza. He broke his contract. He needs to be let go, if he doesn't die," My father said.
"But he's not just an employee!" I cried, "He's a member of the family! And I-I l-"
"He's a foolish young boy who did something stupid, put our daughter in danger, and got himself shot, and he's our employee!" My mother shouted, trying to slap me again.
I dodged her hand. "I love him!"
Everyone stopped.
"Damn! You finally admitted it!" Zeb whispered.
My mother's face was red with anger, "Now you listen here, young lady! You don't even know what love is! I won't hear any more of this foolishness! He is either dead or not our problem anymore! You are never to see him again! You hear me?!"
I ran up to the loft crying.
"Aileen, I think that was a little harsh!" My father scolded.
"A little! Aileen, that was highly unnecessary! Think of what she just had to go through with the battle and then she comes home to this!" Father Ignatius sympathized with me.
"She went into battle! That is not something a mother can have her daughter doing! That boy will lead her to her death! I won't have my daughter on a battle field dying in a barbaric fight for a ridiculous cause! This for her sake!" My mother ranted.
"Aileen, this is a fight worth fighting! I agree, she does not belong on a battle field, but she has been quite a help to the Sons," my father said.
  "The Sons are who spur her to risk her life like that! She has to go far away from that!" My mother protested.
The yelling continued and I heard my siblings all run out of the room. Father Ignatius tried to be a buffer between my parents and Zeb slipped out to find me. I was lying on Isaac's side of the bed, still crying.
  "I'm really sorry we got you into so much trouble," he said, "but I'm tired of seeing you cry so much."
"I can't help it, I feel like my whole life is falling apart!" I sobbed.
"Well, you have saved both Isaac and my life, several soldiers back at Doctor Warren's, and we wound up stealing an extra gun," Zeb said. "You should be proud of yourself! It doesn't matter what your mother is trying to get you to do! If you feel like you are being called to do help in the revolution, you do that! Don't let anyone but God tell you no."
  "Zeb, what if Isaac dies? What happens then? She's sending me away to get a job far from the Sons! I'll probably wind up working for some prissy, weak-minded loyalists who will keep their servants cooped up inside all day and pay me very little! That won't feed the family! It will only ruin me more!" I cried.
"It doesn't have to ruin you. It only will ruin you if you let it," Zeb said.
  The next day I snuck out very early to see Isaac. He was sleeping when I got there. He looked even sicker than he had the previous day. Many soldiers who had been there had either died or gone home to recover. I decided that if Isaac did wake up, I should not tell him that he was fired and that I was not really allowed to see him. I needed to keep his spirits up, or else he might "lose the will to live." He may have failed at fighting in the battle, but he still had to fight for his life.
  "Are his chances looking any better?" I asked Doctor Warren.
  He looked at me with sorry eyes, "Liza, I'm sorry, but he's getting worse instead of better. If he's alive right now, he won't be for long."
  I tried to keep my tears hidden, but they escaped while I sat by Isaac's side in the bedroom. He finally woke up, and he was not quite himself. He could not seem to be able to look at me or focus on anything.
  "Doctor, what is wrong with him now?" I asked fearfully.
  "Well, you see, I've been giving him pain killers, lots of 'em, for the past few days. Those wounds do get infected. The drug I have to give him puts him out of sorts, it's nothing personal," the Doctor explained. "He should probably have another dose. Why don't you give it to him. I need to tend to another patient."
  He handed me a bowl of medicine with a spoon.
  "Isaac," I whispered.
   His eyes were open. He looked at me and smiled, his eyes closing slightly.
  "It's you?" He whispered weakly.
  "Yes, it's me," I said, hoping he knew who I was.
  "You've been around here a lot in the past few days, Liza. That's very nice of you," he breathed, his weak smile so much like his father's.
  "It's the least I could do. You're my best friend," I said, grasping his hand.
  "Yeah, friend," he breathed.
  "Take your medicine," I said, lifting up his head and holding the spoon to his mouth.
  "No more of that stuff, please," he whispered.
  "You need it, it keeps you from feeling too much pain," I pressed.
  "I can take it," he whispered.
  "No, you can't. You passed out from the pain after it happened. We can't risk such a collapse of your system." I said. "Open up."
  "Fine," he breathed.
  He took the medicine and I gave him a drink of water.
  "Hey," I said, "This room is stuffy and smells awful. Would you like me to open a window?"
  "Sure," he whispered, "It feels like it has been a while since I've breathed the outside air."
  I opened the windows in the bedroom. A fresh gust of wind filled the room.
"I need to get to that window!" Isaac whispered persistently. 
"Save your strength and stay alive. Do not try to do something crazy like walking or moving, even with my help," I advised. "I'll part the curtains for you, there, it that better?"
  "I guess," he coughed.
   His eyelids drooped. He appeared to be going to sleep again. I felt his forehead. It felt too hot. I wiped the sweat from his brow with a cold, wet rag and placed it on his forehead. Soon he was asleep and the clock struck 5 am. I needed to get back to my house before my parents woke up.
  "Goodbye," I whispered.
   Isaac did not answer. He was asleep, and hopefully just asleep. I said goodbye to the doctor and rode home.  I walked into the kitchen, thinking I could maybe make breakfast to soften my mother's anger. To my surprise, Uncle Tad was already in there.
  "Already out this morning?" He asked.
  "Umm," I turned red.
  "You went out to see your friend, I get it," he smiled. "How's he doing?"
"Not well," I said sadly. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Oh, nothing right now," he said. "Hey, listen, I understand you were very brave in the battle at Lexington?"
"I guess," I said. The thought of possibly killing that soldier ran through my head and terrified me.
"Even if your parents are hard on you, I just want you to know that I and your priest friend are very proud of you," he said with a smile.
   "Thanks, Uncle Tad," I said.
   My mother walked in.
   "Liza," she said sharply.
   I looked up, "Yes, Ma?"
   She still looked angry with me, "You ought to get ready for work."