29
HOPE
OCTOBER 10, 1692
NEW YORK
It was quiet and cool in the little stone church within the walls of Fort William Henry on the southern tip of Manhattan Island. Grace walked beside me as we made our way up the aisle. The only noise was the tapping of our shoes against the wood floor and the beat of my heart as I met Isaac’s tender gaze.
He stood tall and proud at the front of the church with the minister, Henricus Selyns, who had agreed to marry us in a small, private ceremony. Our marriage vows would be witnessed by Grace and one of Mister Selyns’s sons. There was not time, or extra money, for new clothes or fancy shoes. Though I had insisted upon a warm bath that morning.
The stone church was the tallest structure on the island, with its spire and weathercock rising high above the fort. Mister Selyns had told us it had been used for over fifty years by the Dutch Reformed Church and was dearly loved by all. It was afar cry from the Meeting House in Salem Village, for which I was thankful. Isaac and I had agreed that a marriage with a Minister of the Gospel was more important to us than a civil ceremony with a magistrate, as the Puritans practiced. Thankfully, Mister Selyns did not ask too many questions and was willing to see that we were properly married in the eyes of God and the Church.
Grace was withdrawn and pale, though she tried to rally with a smile for my benefit as I stopped beside Isaac and we faced the minister.
Mister Selyns spoke in broken English, but it was enough for us to understand. The ceremony was very simple as we shared our marriage vows, promising to honor one another, to be faithful, and to care for each other, so long as we both lived.
After we signed the register and Isaac paid the minister, the ceremony was finished.
“Congratulations,” Grace said as she hugged me just outside the church’s front door. “I’m so happy for you.”
She didn’t sound or look happy, but I knew she was trying.
It had been eight days since she’d died in 1912. Each day, as we traveled to New York, she had gone to sleep, only to wake up the next morning more and more anguished over what she had lost. I tried to talk to her about Luc, but she didn’t want to discuss her pain.
As much as I had mourned losing 1912 and Luc, it was nothing like Grace’s grief, and it made me realize how deeply she loved him.
We had arrived at Fort William Henry, formerly Fort Amsterdam, just two days ago, and Isaac had secured a little house for us to use while we waited for the madness in Salem to die down. With almost five thousand occupants in the fort and living nearby on the southern tip of Manhattan Island, it hadn’t been easy to find a place to live. New York was a bustling, thriving colony—though it was a far cry from what it would be in 1912.
Now, as I walked away from the stone church as Isaac’s bride, I couldn’t wait to be his completely. My love for him grew every day. If I was given the choice between him and 1912, I would choose him over and over again. But God, in His infinite wisdom, had known I needed my eyes to be opened and had orchestrated our romance in a way that left me in awe.
Isaac reached for me, and I slipped my hand into his. I wished Mama and Daddy could be with us today, but I was thankful for Grace.
When we returned to our little cottage, Grace started to prepare our wedding supper. With her back turned to us, Isaac drew me into his arms and kissed me. Warmth filled me from head to toe, and if Grace hadn’t been there, I would have allowed him to kiss me as long as he wanted. But I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I pulled back and smiled at him. It was difficult to wait, but it would make our time together later even sweeter.
Isaac let out a little groan for my ears only and then said, “I’ve heard Philip English is living on the other side of the fort.” Philip and his wife had been accused and had fled Massachusetts with their daughter. “I think I’ll go speak to him while supper is being prepared.”
I glanced at Grace, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, and nodded. There were things I needed to say to my sister, things best said without Isaac present. On the long trip to New York, we had told him about our time-crossing gift, and he had accepted the truth without question. But I knew Grace wouldn’t speak as freely with Isaac at hand.
He left the small house, but not before giving me another kiss. It would be hard to be newlyweds with Grace underfoot. The house had one room on the main floor and one room above. Isaac and I would sleep upstairs while Grace slept on a cot near the hearth.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Grace after Isaac was gone. “I know this day is hard for you.”
She turned from the carrots she was cutting and shook her head. “Don’t be sorry for being happy, Hope. This day isn’t hard because you’ve married Isaac. ’Tis better because of it.”
“I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“You and Isaac have freed me from life in Salem. I cannot ask for more.”
I put my hands on her forearms and said, “You can ask for so much more, Grace. I know you’re miserable—I was, too—but I believe there is a life waiting for you here. God has a plan, and though it looks dark and uncertain right now, it will be bright again. I promise.”
She smiled, though her eyes were still sad. “It heartens me to hear you say such things, but please let me mourn for now. I cannot mend my heart in a day or even a week. ’Tis broken and might take a lifetime to heal. But I will trust in God’s plan.” She nodded, as if trying to fortify herself. “And this was what I was going to choose anyway. Remember?”
Would she have chosen it? If I had been able to talk to her—to tell her that I would let her go with my blessing. If she had not died in that aeroplane, would she have chosen this path?
The answer was plain to see in the sorrow in her eyes.
“I will pray for you,” I told her. “That God will give you His peace and comfort, as only He can.”
