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"Edmund,"
His hands tightened around the parchment, and her handwriting fractured around his knuckles. The handwriting alone pierced his heart again – the same handwriting she had used to forge those divorce papers – and he considered throwing the letter away. But his heart, the traitorous muscle, stayed his shaking hands. He straightened it out and continued reading.
"Let me start by saying how sorry I am for what I have done. I know that you cannot understand yet, and perhaps even by the end of this letter, you still will not understand."
Sorry. She was sorry. Edmund inhaled sharply through his nose, trying to steady the emotions he had spent hours trying to get under control. She could just…accuse him of a crime, of coercing her – the word stuck in his throat – to marry him, and think that apologizing would just make it better? The exhale that tumbled from his mouth sounded like a dry sob. He ignored it.
"I did forge those divorce papers, that much I’m sure you have deduced from my handwriting. But I could not tell you why, for fear of incriminating myself further. I knew that Richard would seek to prosecute me to the fullest extent of the law, and that would leave you alone and unprotected."
Edmund released one hand from the letter long enough to blindly grope for his seat and take it. He knew, subconsciously, that she was going to deliver more bad news. His eyes landed on ‘incriminating,’ ‘prosecute,’ and ‘unprotected.’ The suspicions that he had harbored since he first met her rose in his chest again. Her father had been hung as a Patriot, a traitor to the crown, and her affair with Abraham, the fervor with which she protected her traitorous husband, all lent itself to Patriot sensibilities.
"Abraham meant to kill you after the Simcoe mission was completed, and I could not abide your death. You see, Abraham urged me to befriend you, to keep you away from him, but he never suspected –"
Here the ink smudged, like she had wiped away a tear from the parchment. Edmund’s fingers traced over it gently, trying to capture the emotion that had dried into the material long before he found her letter, tucked underneath the stand where he always put his wig.
"He never suspected that I would grow to love you."
Edmund exhaled sharply, his hand landing gracefully over his mouth.
"I am certain that you have deduced by now why I was so aware of Abraham’s intentions."
He was, but that didn’t matter. His eyes rose one line higher to the word ‘love.’ She loved him. He wanted to smile, he wanted to do something that could express how seeing the word, formed by her graceful hand, made his heart swell. But still, the circumstances kept him in his seat.
"My suggestion to leave to Scotland was to save your life, and to give us a chance to be happy, away from Richard, away from Abraham, away from all of the horrible things I have done in the name of freedom. When you refused, I realized that the only way to keep you safe was to make you want to leave the colonies so much that you would leave without me."
How she had succeeded. Edmund dropped his head to his hands, overwhelmed. Even when she was backed against a corner, Anna continued to impress him. Her strategy, her brilliance, all of it was devastatingly effective. It ached in his limbs, in his heart, in his head. If only he could have known – if he could have seen it in her eyes when he desperately searched them for any answers.
He had seen pain – oh yes, so much pain – and a significance that spoke to a larger picture, and a plea that he accepted without much thought. He promised to protect her – he had never known she was protecting him in the same way.
"Now that you are reading this, I will be on my way to Washington’s camp. I daresay I will never see you again. Know, my love, that the idea of never seeing your face, never being by your side again, is as torturous as losing you to death, but at least now, you have a chance to be happy with someone who deserves you.
You are a kind and decent man, Edmund. It would have been an honor to be your wife.
All my love,
Anna Strong"
His hand clenched around the letter again, and this time, he let his hand crumble the letter that crushed him so. Instead of feeling hope, happiness, he felt anger. He was furious. She had been told to befriend him out of some stupid mission.
But that didn’t diminish the tearstains on the letter. That didn’t explain that she loved him. Somehow, he had earned her love. He had earned her heart. He growled, throwing the letter away from him.
Washington’s camp. She was going to the heart of the rebel camp. He had already drafted his resignation. He was going back to Scotland, just like she wanted. But if she got to Washington’s camp, he would never see her again. Even if she managed to survive the war, she would never find him in Scotland.
He froze, his brain working furiously to try to find a solution.
A quiet knock interrupted him. “Who is it?” he called, annoyed.
“Wakefield, sir,” his replacement eased the door open carefully. “Ensign Rhys has just been sent off with your resignation,” he said. “I just wanted to keep you apprised.”
“Wakefield,” Edmund interrupted, not even bothering to pretend like he had been listening. “Is your horse outside?” He strode the corner of the room and retrieved the letter Anna left him.
Wakefield paused in his explanation and furrowed his brows. “Uh, yes, sir. Why?”
Edmund pushed past him, dropping his powdered wig on the table without care. “I need to borrow him,” he said without waiting for an answer. “And your pistol.” He held out his hand for it. Wakefield was staring at him like he was crazy, and he imagined he must look it. He waggled his fingers at him and Wakefield finally obliged.
“Sir!”
Edmund didn’t bother to wait. He didn’t have the time.
The horse, a brown mare, was waiting beside the guards. Edmund didn’t bother acknowledging them; he jumped up on the horse and dug in his heels, hoping that he was making the right decision. He clenched his legs, trying to urge the horse to go faster. The night sky was peppered with stars, and he found his eyes straying to them, praying that those stars would guide him to where he needed to go.
Abraham’s light was on when he got there. Edmund didn’t bother knocking – he shoved the door open, holding his pistol aloft. Immediately, Thomas started crying, and he momentarily regretted his rash movement, but his resolve strengthened when he saw Abraham, in almost the same pose he had just been in, reading a letter with her distinct handwriting.
“So she left you one too,” Edmund growled, cocking the gun.
Abraham rose from his place, his face hardened in hatred. Edmund raised the gun even higher, and Abraham’s eyes landed on the barrel.
“Finally decided you’re going to shoot me in front of my son?” he asked, his voice choked with emotion. Edmund momentarily felt pity for him, but it was immediately doused in his own anger.
“No,” he said quietly as Thomas started to quiet down. “I came here because you’re going to take me where you meet your Continental contact.”
Abraham’s eyes bulged. “Absolutely not.”
Edmund shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to take you to the stocks so you can hang in the morning. It is my duty, after all, to inform the new commanding officer of Setauket of all the information I’ve gathered while leading this post. I will make your death sentence my last official act as Major. Or, you will take me to your Continental post.”
Abraham shook his head. “I will not sell out my contact.”
“I don’t give a damn about your contact!” Edmund roared, shoving his gun into the soft flesh of Abraham’s throat. He yanked Anna’s letter out of his pocket and threw it at him. Abraham noticed the handwriting on the front, and his face hardened even more. “Open it,” Edmund commanded. “Open it!”
His harsh voice pushed Abraham into reaching for the letter and opening it. Edmund watched carefully as his face morphed from hatred, to sadness, to anger. He clenched the gun tighter in his hand as he read. They didn’t have time to lose with Abraham’s limited reading comprehension. Finally, he held it up.
“This doesn’t make me want to take you to where our contact meets us,” Abraham said bitterly.
Knowing that this gesture would make him hate himself for years to come, Edmund lowered the aim of his gun to the now slumbering Thomas. Abraham’s wide eyes locked on his face, and Edmund clenched his jaw.
“I am desperate,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to do this. But I am not going to let her become a casualty of war simply because she was trying to protect me. You claim to love her – then protect her. Let me protect her.”
Abraham looked like he wanted to lunge at him, and Edmund couldn’t help but agree. Pointing a gun at a child was the lowest form of barbarism, but he knew that he would never follow through with his threat. But this was his last chance.
“I don’t care about your spying, I don’t care about this war,” he continued as Abraham hesitated. “I don’t care about any of it anymore. I just want to make her happy. I want to make sure she survives this.”
***
The swampy mud beneath Anna’s feet was sticking to her dress – the dress that was going to be her wedding dress. She felt the word sting sharply in her chest, and dropped her suitcases on the ground. She hadn’t brought much – there wasn’t much left. Her eyes scanned the water for Caleb, wishing even now that she had someone’s arms around her, only so she could feel like she wasn’t completely alone.
His boat was at the edge of the Sound, working its way toward her. She felt sobs rising in her throat again, and she succumbed to them, allowing it to expel some of her nervous energy.
His face – the betrayal on Edmund’s face – she would never forget it. Even in the last moments, he had managed to protect her like she was trying to protect him. He had allowed her to leave, to abandon him, and he hadn’t even tried to figure out why. He was trying to be a gentleman, the chivalrous man she had grown to love even when his love was destroying his heart.
She hated herself.
But, she reasoned, she would live with that loathing for the rest of her life if it meant that Edmund could be safe. He would have no reason to stay anymore, he’d said so himself. Without her – she sobbed again – he could go back to Scotland.
Oh how she wished she could go with him.
Caleb’s boat was pushing against the shore, and he was splashing, and just his presence broke another dam in her and she rushed into the freezing water, throwing herself into his arms.
“Annie?” he asked softly, hugging her as she cried. “Annie, what’s wrong? Is Woody okay?”
She couldn’t say anything – there was nothing she could say to explain what had happened, so she just nodded against his shoulder and kept crying, trying desperately to gasp in breaths. Caleb smelled like the Sound and gunpowder, and his comforting smell eased her into softer cries. He was petting her hair, telling her it was all going to be okay.
“Why did you call me?” he asked, easing her back onto the shore.
“I’m leaving Setauket,” she replied. “I’m going with you back to Washington’s camp.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Things go that south for you?” he asked, and Anna felt her chin quiver with more tears. If only he knew. But before she could answer, his eyes narrowed and focused on something past her. “Annie, get in the boat,” he ordered, his voice quiet. He drew his gun from under his arm and aimed it into the darkness.
“Annie, go!” he demanded.
The sound of horses hooves finally reached her, and she stumbled toward the boat, pulling her skirts in after her. A brown mare came into view, and she watched in awe as Caleb lowered his gun.
“Woody?” he asked. Anna felt dread spread through her stomach. So Abraham had come to stop her from leaving. She considered, wildly for a moment, pushing the boat away from the shore.
But Caleb was raising his gun again, and another man was with Abe.
Edmund.
“What the hell is this?” Caleb asked Abraham furiously. “You’ve compromised our drop site!”
Edmund waved him off. “I don’t care about your drop, Mr…” Caleb didn’t bother giving him his name. “I’m only here for her.” He left Caleb and Abraham to argue and let his eyes rove over Anna’s face. She was still in the boat, and he on the shore, but she could feel him, feel his forgiveness.
She wasn’t sure why his presence surprised her so much – Edmund had always been so gallant, so determined to be good to her, but she found herself gaping at him, in his shirtsleeves, without his wig, standing on the shore, his face both sad and ecstatic to see her.
“I never thought I’d make it in time,” he breathed, and his words were carried to her on the wind off the Sound.
“I imagine you want a better explanation?” she asked, her feet still planted in the boat.
He let out a mirthless laugh that pulled Caleb and Abraham’s eyes to him. “I think I’ve endured enough pain tonight,” he clarified. “No, your letter was explanation enough. I came here to stop you from leaving.”
She sighed. “There’s nothing left for me in Setauket, Edmund,” she answered. “The whole town is against me; I have no reason to stay here.”
He was holding his hand out to her, hoping she’d take it. “I didn’t say I wanted to stay in Setauket,” he said.
She didn’t answer; her eyes were on his hand.
“You committed crimes to make sure that I stayed alive,” he reasoned. “You lied, you forged divorce papers, you committed treason against the crown. You humiliated me in front of half of the town, including a man that used to be my friend. You blamed me, you ruined my reputation in Setuaket, you made me out to be a predatory man out to get your love, just like Simcoe.”
She flinched. His voice wasn’t harsh, if anything, it was the softest she’d ever heard it, but it hurt her that much more to know that he was reliving the pain she’d caused.
“Everyone in the town, even Abraham, has painted you into Helen of Troy. Heavenly face, beautiful beyond compare. The face that launched a thousand ships. Anna, I would gladly wage a war for you. But I think calling you Helen of Troy does you a grave injustice. Those men, Paris, Menlaus, they waged a war in her name.”
He took his first step into the water. “I wish to weather a war by your side. You aren’t Helen, Anna. You’re Athena. You’re a warrior, a strategist, a fighter. You are brilliant in the same breath that you are beautiful. You are tough, resilient, unforgiving, stubborn. But you are loving, you are protective, and you are, above all, selfless.”
“I do not wish to stay in Setauket,” he said. “I wish to return to Scotland, but I wish to take you with me. We can be married there. As you said, bigamy won’t follow us across the sea.”
“Edmund –” her voice bolstered him, and he took another step closer to the edge of the boat. She could reach his hand if she wanted.
“You’ve been protecting me for so long. You’ve been protecting everyone for so long,” he said quietly. “Let me protect you for a change.”
She felt tears sneaking up on her again, as they often did when Edmund said something she never thought she’d hear from a man’s mouth. He was looking up at her now, his feet planted in the mud and water, her own position in the boat giving her a significant amount of height.
“Annie,” Caleb’s voice sounded far away, like she and Edmund had managed to move from the shore without her knowledge. She turned toward him, his greasy and dirty hair shining in the moonlight. “Go with him.”
Abraham, behind him, let out a scoff.
“You’ve done enough for the cause,” he said. “And this war has taken…everything from a lot of us, but especially from you. Besides,” he said with a hint of a smile, “Washington’s camp is no place for a woman.”
“Caleb Brewster, a woman in that camp would –” she began furiously before his sad smile stopped her. He was telling her to leave. He was giving her permission to make herself happy. After losing her family, losing Abraham, and losing Selah, she never allowed herself to take her happiness and make it her first priority.
She took Edmund’s hand and let him pull her from the boat. He gently carried her out of the water and onto the shore, where she launched herself into Caleb’s arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him, “for letting me go.”
“I expect letters, Annie,” he admonished. “And you better treat her well, Major, or I’ll come for your arse next.”
Edmund made a single aggrieved, offended sound that pulled Caleb and Anna into giggles once more. Abraham, behind Caleb, turned away from the group, but Anna didn’t have the heart to call him back. Caleb seemed to know where her eyes were going. He patted her on the shoulder and gave her a kiss on the forehead, tickling her brow with his regrowing whiskers.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said softly. “Go to your fiancé. Get out of here, you’re compromising my drop.”
She smiled at him, knowing that she would probably never see his face in person again. If he survived the war, she would be in Scotland, and he would be in America. She was losing someone, again.
She turned back to Edmund, who had been watching the exchange with a faint smile on his face. He held out his arm for her to take, the same way he had taken her away from Simcoe, and she felt a smile spread over her face.
She took his arm and let him lead her to the brown mare that she had all but forgotten about. He helped her up onto the saddle, climbing on behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he took the reins. His chin was resting on her shoulder. For the first time since Selah had been arrested, Anna felt safe.