The Turning of Anne Merrick by Christine Blevins Read Free Book Online

invade and occupy New York. She never went anywhere without her token, and the General’s table would be no exception.
    Anne found the broken shard of cast iron amid the bits and bobs in her everyday pocket. No bigger than a walnut, the iron token weighed heavy in the palm of her hand. Jack wore its mate strung on a leather thong about his neck, and, when puzzled together, the two halves formed a whole—a small crown.
    “For us—a token to remember the day by,” Jack had said, when he pressed it into her hand the day the Declaration of Independence was first read aloud.
    Rebellion and war ensured her days together with Jack had been memorable, but also few, far between, and never free of strife. Anne sighed, grasping the broken chunk of cast iron tight in her fist. Relishing the bite of rough metal digging into her skin, she whispered with conviction, “My heart belongs to you, Jack Hampton,” before slipping it to sink down to the bottom of her pocket.
    Sally glanced up from threading her needle. “What’s th’ matter, Annie?”
    Anne shook her head, quick to swipe her sudden tears away with the hem of her shift. “This tent is worse than an Indian sweat lodge,” she said, snatching up the fresh-pressed overdress, pushing her arms through the sleeve holes. “Best hurry and stitch me into my frock, afore I melt into a puddle.”
    “’Tis as hot and steamy as th’ devil’s nut bag, na? I can just feel my hair forming into a mad frizz.”
    While Sally joined the front edges of the bodice together with neat whipstitches, Anne fussed with the starch-stiffened lace that edged the scooped neckline. Grabbing a gauzy scarf from the jumble ofgarments strewn across the cot, she draped it over her shoulders, crisscrossing the ends to mask her exposed décolletage. “Sally—have you a pin in your cushion for this fichu?”
    “Fichu? We’ll have none of that…” Sally looked up and snatched the scarf away, letting it flutter to their feet. “Ye’ll tempt more bears with that bit of honey, aye?”
    “But where there is honey, bears come uninvited.” Anne reached down to retrieve the discarded fichu.
    Sally slapped her hand away. “Tha’s th’ point, in’t it? Now just hold still—”
    Anne tried not to fidget as Sally finished the seam, and just when the thread was knotted and snipped off, a masculine voice called, “Mrs. Merrick? Are you within?”
    “It’s him!” Anne whispered.
    Sally poked her head between the door flaps and called, “Patience, Captain! My mistress will be with ye in a blink.” Turning back, she pulled a rouge pot from her pocket and thumbed tint onto Anne’s cheeks and lips. “Mr. Pepperell is very dashing in his regimentals, and yer th’ very picture of lovely—a fine couple ye make.”
    Anne hissed, “He and I are
not
a couple.”
    “Ah, g’won, I meant nothing by it…” Sally whispered back. “I ken well where yer true heart lies—as do you, aye?”
    Anne drew a deep breath. Puffing it out slow, she focused to relax the lines in her forehead and ease the tension in her neck, keeping her voice low. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Sal, but as much as I wish for us to achieve results, I so
dread
putting forth the requisite charade…”
    Grasping Anne square by the shoulders, Sally leaned in a scant inch from her ear. “Neither of us enjoys being at th’ beck and boo of these lobsterback scoundrels, but such are the quirks an’ quillets of the battles we fight. As ye once said—there are many who bear far worse than we for the same cause.”
    Sally straightened one of the blue ribbon rosettes pinned into Anne’s upswept curls, turned her friend toward the door flaps, and whispered, “Off wi’ ye, now—bat yer eyelashes and flaunt yer bubbies—for Liberty and Country, aye?”

TWO
    The success of the cause, the union of the people, and the means of supporting and securing both, are points which cannot be too much attended to.
    T HOMAS P AINE ,
The American