The Midwife's Revolt by Daynard Jodi

Author:Daynard, Jodi [Daynard, Jodi]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

27

So began our season of terror. The moment I had determined that both Dr. Flynt and Mr. Thayer had been murdered, there was no rest from fear—not for myself or for those I loved: Martha, the Cranches, the Quincys, and, most particularly, Abigail and her family.

I had little doubt that it was a plot, for no other explanation served to illuminate why the lives of two patriots in the household of a known patriot would be extinguished. Further, I reasoned, of all the places in all the colonies for murder to take place, the North Parish of Braintree could signify only one certain target: John Adams and his family. But why kill Flynt and Thayer? I had not been impressed by their characters. Surely they could not have played a verylarge role in our struggle.

I considered other possible targets besides the Adamses. Since the early years of the war, John Hancock had been chiefly absent from town, and his wife and family were with him in Philadelphia. An assassination plot on them would have been hatched in those parts, not ours. Washington was by then deep in the south, so surely he was not the target. As I raced toward my beloved Abigail that morning, I endeavored to piece together a plot whose clues were not all present and accounted for. I believed that someone, or some group, wished to threaten John Adams’s family in order to force John home.

I had implored Richard to do nothing and notify no one until my return. I was exceedingly glad of my foresight now, for by the time I reached Abigail’s farm, I had become convinced that the news should not go beyond our circle and that reporting to the constable would do far more harm than good.

I found her hauling a bundle of dried flax into the house. She had opened the door and was holding it ajar with her rear parts as she backed into the entryway. When she saw me approach, she set the bundle down and came to embrace me. Her body felt tiny in my arms, and she was covered in a fine salt sweat.

“I’m heartily glad to see you, Lizzie. What brings you? Is there something wrong?”

She had quickly caught my bearing. I could not hide it, nor did I wish to.

“Abigail,” I said, taking her hands, “let us sit.”

“Are Mary and the children well?” she asked, her voice sounding thin and fragile.

“They are all well,” I quickly reassured her. “None we could count among our friends are ill. Yet the news is still bad.”

“Then tell me.” She pushed aside a basket of pocky apples rescued from her ailing trees, finding room by the table for us to sit.

“Millie, could you bring us some cider from the cellar?” she said to her servant girl. She was someone new, a day laborer I’d not seen before.

The girl did as Abigail instructed. Then little Tommy came running in, followed by Charles, whom he was shooting noisily with a popgun.

“Boys, kindly go out of doors.

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