To Sweeten a Sour Soul

All three women of the house kept peeking out the curtains as a group of British soldiers approached. Watching them march up the hill was painful; they were still too far away for Anna to see them clearly, but she saw a group of three men.

An officer with medals and straps decorating his uniform approached the door first. Her father was already getting up, walking over to the door, leaning heavily on his cane before they knocked. Anna hung back with her sister and mother in the kitchen as a useless onlooker, a bystander.

Anna felt her stomach hollow out when two young British soldiers walked up the stairs onto their porch behind the officer, one of whom had a very distinctive scar on the side of his neck. She couldn't possibly keep a straight face.

“Good day, sir,” the officer said to her father. “I assume you have heard of the Quartering Act? And I’m speaking to Mr. Michael Marino?”

“Yes, sir,” her father said.

“Pleasure, I am General Evan Williams. How many empty beds do you have in your home?”

“Two.”

“Ah, not bad,” the offer said pleasantly. “Is that all the space you have?”

“There’s also space in the loft of our barn. There’s not much other than hay up there as far as accommodations go.”

The Brit grimaced at the mention of staying in a barn. “We would like to house two soldiers here for now.”

“Of course,” her father said, his voice flat.

There was a pause. “May I ask why you have two empty beds? We just want to ensure our men aren’t being put at risk of any sicknesses, you see.”

“I had two sons,” her father said, his voice surprisingly flat, “they died some years ago.”

She knew her father was being understandably careful, trying not to provoke them, but it still bothered her to hear.

“I see. My condolences for your loss,” General Williams said, though he didn’t sound very aggrieved.

“Thank you, general.”

“This is Nicholas Smith and Alfred Lockthorn,” he said, motioning toward the young men clad in red. “They will be staying here under the protection of the Townshend Act until further notice.”

Greetings and handshakes were exchanged, but Anna stayed in the kitchen with her sister and mother. She closed her eyes, wishing the entire situation away. Maria didn’t know anything was wrong beyond their rights being horribly violated and their family taken advantage of by the British.

Once the general was on his way, Anna’s mother led the way into the living room. She watched her mother’s expression as she passed, seeing the steeliness in her mother’s eyes. Her older brothers were seldom spoken of. Since they left for war and never returned, speaking of them at home was treated like invoking the devil.

She didn’t want to stare the British soldiers down too obviously, but she sized the two of them up. The first looked older than even Maria, in his mid-twenties, and had the picturesque blond hair and blue eyes like people did in paintings of European nobles. The second was brunette and had brunette hair that swooped near his eyes, styled in a way that seemed too long for military regulations. His eyes were a warm brown, but he looked more uncomfortable than his counterpart to be in someone’s home.

Her mother invited the two young men to take off their jackets, careful not to say the word with too much distaste. Common courtesy seemed loaded with frustration when the object of the question was one that symbolized so much oppression. After hanging his coat upon a worn spindle of the coat rack, Alfred extended his hand to her father.

“I apologize for the inconvenience this puts you under,” the brunette—Alfred—said with a respectful bow of his head.

Her father seemed taken aback by the unexpected politeness. “Oh- well, it’s fine, we have space.”

“I appreciate it. Please let me know if there’s anything I can help with around the farm, I would be glad to assist when I’m finished with my duties for the military.”

Her father nodded, still eyeing Alfred oddly. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Well, for now, we want you to get settled in and feel at home,” Maria said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Anna was certain that was her sister’s way of saying get out of my sight right now.

She appreciated Maria’s ability to react and keep her composure in situations none of them wanted. She was doubly glad for it when she followed her family, bringing up the rear of the group while Maria led the way. Her older sister gave him a very brief tour of the house since it was small enough to see where everything was from walking inside. Maria opened the door into George’s old bedroom.

“This will be your room while you stay with us,” she said curtly. “Dinner is served just after sunset. Please feel free to ask us if you have any questions.”

Alfred and Nicholas both thanked her, though the latter was much curter in his response. Once they were inside the room and starting to unpack their things, Anna closely trailed Maria out the back door. It looked like she was headed toward the nearest garden where the few remaining tomatoes and peppers were growing and Maria let out a sigh.

“You know, I hadn’t expected the British boys to look so much better than the ones that grow around here,” Maria said as she approached one of the tomato plants.

“Maria,” Anna groaned, wincing at her comment.

Maria plucked two tomatoes off the vine and handed them to Anna. She could have carried them herself, but Anna guessed that she intended to make use of her presence since she trailed along to the garden.

Maria basically threw the rest of the vegetables she picked in Anna’s general direction, leaving her to catch them. All the while, Maria droned on about all the terrible luck they had, all the way until they were returning to the back door and heading into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

For once, she was rather glad to hide away in the kitchen and help with the meal. She’d usually try to do anything short of cleaning manure to avoid helping her mother and Maria with the cooking, but she could steer clear of him this way. Her mother gave her the menial, repetitive tasks, like chopping onions, but they were somehow comforting.

The time taken to prepare food always seemed as though it stretched on forever, but she honestly would have preferred it to keep on sluggishly passing than to start serving. Her mother and father were oddly quiet as they gathered around the table, clearly off-put by the presence of unwanted guests in the house.

The men took their seats first while Anna, Maria, and their mother finished serving then, then finally sat themselves. Being gathered around the table made the silence ten thousand times more poignant. Though Anna was fairly certain that an actual devil would have been more welcomed at the table than the British were, her father was a kind enough man to attempt extending an olive branch of conversation out.

“Your name is Alfred, correct?” he asked.

She knew her father was kind, but with the history her family had with the British, she thought she’d still see some tightness in his brow.

“Yes,” he replied politely, “I usually go by Al.”

“That’s a fine name,” her father said with an approving nod. “Al it is then. Nicholas, do you have any nickname?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips at her father’s joke, but Nicholas’ expression remained steely.

“No, Mr. Marino,” Nicholas said, his choice of words making it clear that he had no desire for familiarity.

“Have you two been in the colonies long?” her father asked.

“Just a few months, I’m rather new to this territory,” Al said.

“About a year for me,” Nicholas said.

“I see,” her father said with a nod. “Leeds Point and all of the towns around here are quite different from the cities.”

“I’ve noticed,” Alfred said, then realized that his choice of words sounded less than complimentary. “It’s very peaceful and quiet.”

~~~

When Maria and Anna were finished in the kitchen, Anna followed suit and went straight to her bedroom and flopped face down on the bed. Maria wasn’t far behind her and made a soft sound of disapproval as she closed the door.

“So ladylike, little sister.”

“So polite you’ve been tonight, elder sister,” she said, more than a little mockingly.

“You can hardly blame me.”

Anna rolled onto her back and lowered her voice. “How thick is the wall between here and George’s room? Do you think they can hear us?”

“Possibly.”

Both sisters looked to the door when they heard movement in the living room and didn’t say much else. Maria made herself comfortable with a book of poetry, and Anna tried to do the same, but even the stories her older sister said were the most exciting couldn’t keep her engrossed when there was so much else happening.

Though Maria taught Anna well and her reading and writing skills were better than the average peasant girl’s, she still got stuck on unusual words more often than she would have liked. She’d often interrupt Maria to explain what a particularly long and strange word meant if she couldn’t figure it out from the context of the sentence.

An hour or more passed and there was still some sun left in the sky when she gave up on the adventure novel and decided to venture outside while she could still walk without a lantern.

She stepped out of her room and had the ill timing to open the door seconds after Alfred opened his. She was half tempted just to turn on her heel, go back inside her room, and close the door before he could speak with her. Unfortunately for her, he saw her before she had the chance.

“Ah” he began, then broke off. “I’m sorry, but do you have a kettle I could borrow? I was going to make tea.”

Her stomach lurched.

“Sure, we have a tea strainer too,” she said.

“That’s great, thank you,” he replied, then glanced toward the door to her parents’ room. “I don’t believe I caught your name earlier.”

“Anna,” she said stiffly.

She tried to smile politely again, but it was really just twisting pursed lips upward.

Once they were in the kitchen, she breezed past him and went to the cabinet to get the kettle out. He awkwardly lingered in the doorway for a moment before following after he and standing a bit closer than she would have liked. He did seem genuinely uncomfortable with being there.

She opened the heavy door of the cabinet beneath the sink. The wood was warped from frequently getting wet when they did the dishes, but though it resisted, it still worked well enough that it didn’t justify wasting wood to replace it. She poked through the pots and pans that her mother accumulated, mostly from deceased neighbors and relatives, since they were too poor to buy things new.

She stretched up onto the tips of her toes to reach the shelf where the strainer was. He was making a show of being polite to her family, but she didn’t trust the authenticity of it. She finally found the teapot hiding behind some of her mother’s carefully stored potatoes.

“Do you need help?” he asked hesitantly, at normal volume.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said loudly as she tossed the kettle at him unceremoniously. “You’re a guest.”

He caught it without too much trouble, but the glare she cast him was pointed.

“Well, at least let me share some tea with you,” he said politely. “Do you by chance have any sugar?”

“No,” she said in an unfittingly cheerful voice. “Can’t afford it with all the new taxes.”

She was fairly certain she heard one of the bedroom doors creak, and at risk of it being her mother, she promptly stepped away from the counter.

“I’m sure you can sort the rest out on your own. I’ll be going.”

Before he had the chance to say anything more, or before her mother could creep into the living room to eavesdrop, she disappeared out the door. As promised, she didn’t go far. She wasn’t going to chance sneaking out when her family was unsettled and most likely wouldn’t sleep well. Worse, there was still a higher risk of being attacked by an animal late at night when they were still displaced and trying to find new homes after the fire tore through their pine barrens.

She took a few steps down the back porch, each old board creaking objection as she walked. She had the spots that didn’t make noise memorized. But she didn't have any need to walk carefully at that moment. She walked past several of their gardens and walked past their sheds. When the grass inclined downward, she plopped down, ignoring its faint dampness.

She heard the back door squeak as it opened again, but forced herself not to look. She actually found herself hoping that it would be her mother or Maria showing their remarkable nosiness. She listened to the footsteps as they approached, but as they drew closer, she realized that they sounded a bit too heavy. It was hard for her to be certain since the moist evening grass muffled the sound of footfalls considerably, but she refused to turn her head.

Unfortunately, it was Alfred. She furrowed her eyebrows but still didn’t look at him.

She glanced over her shoulder at the house. “My mother could be peering out one of the windows right now.”

“Can I at least sit and talk to you?” he asked. “It’s not a crime, is it?”

“It’s really not proper for a young woman to have tea with a strange man.”

A small shape entered her peripheral vision when he held something out to her. She lifted her gaze just enough to see a second teacup.

“If anyone sees us, I’ll insist it’s simply British courtesy to share tea with a host.”

“Alright, you win,” she said as she took the steaming teacup.

She grazed the bottom of the cup with her other hand but found it too hot to hold from down there. The handle on the fair china cup was tiny and her fingers brushed against his as she took it from him. He sat down beside her and joined her in looking at the hills and fields surrounding them. The sun had fallen below the horizon, but there was still some residual light left in the sky. It wouldn’t be long until it was completely dark, but there was enough of a sea breeze in the air that it kept the mosquitos at bay.

“I am sorry about this,” he said.

He moved in front of her, forcing her to turn her head to keep from looking at him. He now sat slightly below her, where the hill was slanting more, putting him at eye level with her even though he was ordinarily a head taller. She lifted the teacup to her lips and closed her eyes as she let the tea touch her lips. It was burning hot and she didn’t take a spit, instead pulling it away.

“And what do you want?” she asked.

She dreaded the answer but finally met his gaze this time. If he was going to say something horrible and terrible to her, she at least wanted to see his face as he said it. It would be easier to despise him if she memorized his harder expressions.

Though when she turned, his eyes were soft and his demeanor was calm. He did seem like a gentleman rather than a filthy redcoat.

“For you to call me Al,” he said simply.

She bristled at the way he made light of her question,, but she also felt relieved. “What?”

“It might seem inconsequential, but I want to show you that the British aren’t all horrible,” he said, sincerity dripping from his voice.

Part of her still didn’t want to stop resenting him. She looked down at her teacup again, seeing that the dark brownish liquid was no longer steaming.

“Have I cleared the air between us?” he asked.

“I suppose,” she said.

“Good,” he said as he straightened. “I try to make allies among the colonists. Not enemies.”

She took a sip of her tea and remembered how on that first time she met him, he wasn’t even truly ready to fire his musket at her. As the tea touched her tongue, she was shocked to find it sweet.

“Sugar?” she asked incredulously.

He smiled. “I had some in my belongings.”

“You just carry sugar around with you everywhere?” she asked, letting out a laugh. “How British are you?”

“I absolutely need my tea sweetened,” he said, laughing too, finally breaking the somber mood.

“That is so childish!” she said, though she was smiling and only half-seriously admonishing him. “I haven’t had sweet tea in months.”

She closed her eyes and savored the sweetness. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sweetened tea—it was a luxury in Leeds Point, though she imagined it was uncommon everywhere with the state of things with Britain.

“I’ll let you indulge in my supply whenever you like,” he said, “but that means you’ll need to have tea with me again.”

“You’ll have to let Maria try some too. She’ll be over the moon.”

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t have too much packed up with me, but I can share with my gracious hosts.”

“Sounds fair,” she said as she eagerly took another sip. “I appreciate it… Al.”

“Glad to hear it, Anna.”