“To bring good cheer.”
Hope rose, setting her Bible on the chair, a smile on her lips.
“Good evening, Hope,” Isaac said, nodding in her direction.
“Good evening,” she responded, giving him her full attention.
It was the first time in years that Hope had seemed happy about Isaac’s appearance. Both he and I paused for a second, and I suspected that he noticed the change, too.
“Here,” Hope said as she moved her Bible to the worktable and pushed her high-backed chair closer to the fire. “Warm yourself while I get you something to eat and drink.”
Isaac took a seat on the chair. He watched as she went about the work of preparing a meal for him, pleasure on his face.
I stood back for a moment, frowning slightly. What had changed? Why was Hope so attentive to our old friend? It was I who usually waited on him.
I grabbed a linen cloth for him to towel off his hands andface, though he would have to sit in his wet clothes until he could get home to change.
He took the cloth and wiped his face before saying, “I have just now returned from Sandwich with news that will encourage you.”
Hope paused and turned from the plate she was preparing—her gaze catching mine.
I swallowed the nerves that bubbled up as I pulled a chair nearer the fire to sit beside him. “And?”
He glanced at Hope. “I’ll wait until you’re both ready.”
Hope finished the plate and poured a cup of mulled cider for him before joining us at the hearth. She handed the meal to him and pulled a chair over for herself.
“What did you learn?” she asked, leaning in, speaking in hushed tones.
He set his cup on the floor and balanced the plate on his lap. When he met my gaze, and then Hope’s, he smiled. “Your mother’s family is alive and well—and there are many of them.”
I briefly closed my eyes as I leaned back in my chair, thanking God that we might have answers. Finally.
“I met your mother’s sister, Pricilla Baker, and she was eager to learn about you both. She said that all these years, she hath wondered where you were.”
“She didn’t know our father?” I frowned. “How could that be?”
Isaac shrugged and shook his head. He hadn’t touched the food on his plate yet.
“Are they still Quakers?” Hope asked.
“Yes. The whole family, as far as I can tell.” He slipped his hand under his doublet and pulled out an envelope. “Your aunt sent this letter for you.”
He wasn’t sure who to hand it to, so I took it.
“They are eager to meet you,” Isaac continued. “I’m sure your aunt will tell you everything in her letter.”
Hope rose from her chair and came to stand behind me as I broke open the seal. Isaac began to eat his meal as I gingerly unfolded the damp piece of paper, my heart beating so fast that I put my hand over my chest.
“Shall I read it out loud?” I asked Hope.
“No. I don’t want anyone to hear. I can read it from here.”
I lifted the paper to the light from the fire so we could both read.
Dearly Beloved Girls,
I cannot tell ye how surprised and pleased I am that Goodman Abbott hath brought word that ye live. It is a long-held prayer answered, and we are giving glory to God Almighty for this blessing. I am certain ye have a lot of questions, and I pray I can answer them. But I am afraid I cannot say everything I want in this letter.
