The Puritans (American Family Portrait #1) by Jack Cavanaugh

Author:Jack Cavanaugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction, historical novel, christian fiction, american fiction, american historical fiction, historical fiction novel, historical saga, historical ebooks
Publisher: Jack Cavanaugh

Saturday the mystery regarding Drew’s Bible was solved. The curate had borrowed it. Apparently, while preparing his sermon, he became curious about how the King James translators had handled the passage. Drew was asleep, and the curate didn’t think Drew would mind if he borrowed the Bible. Of course, Drew didn’t mind, but there was still the unanswered question regarding the note hidden in its pages. Had the curate read it or not?

All work ceased in Edenford at three o’clock in preparation for the Sabbath Day observances on Sunday. The evening meal consisted of vegetable soup. There was no bread or meat. Conversation during and after the dinner was low key. Shortly after 9:30 while the others were talking of bed, Drew announced that he had been sleeping too much lately, wasn’t tired, and was feeling so good he thought he’d take a walk. He grabbed his walking cane and left. No one expressed undue alarm.

It was chilly outside. Halfway down High Street Drew thought about going back for a coat but decided against it. Considering how easy it was to slip out of the house, he didn’t want to take any chances of complicating the matter. His shoeless foot was cold, but what could he do about it? He’d just have to manage somehow.

The dark cracks between the shuttered windows indicated that most of the families on High Street had retired for the night.

As he headed downhill toward Market Street, he had a sudden realization. Eliot said to meet him near the bridge, but he didn’t say which bridge. Was he to meet him at the north bridge or at the south bridge by the mill?

At Market Street he had to decide. Which way? Left or right? He looked up and down the tree lined street dimly lit by street lamps. A bulging row of shadows lined the road beneath the trees. Beyond the trees the village green and church could be seen clearly in the moonlight.

Suddenly, two figures emerged from beneath a tree midway down the road. Drew stepped into a shadow against the last house on High Street. Because of the moon’s position, the shadow from the eaves didn’t fully cover him. He pressed himself harder against the wall. Whispers and giggles came from the two figures. Holding hands, they ran toward Chesterfield Road—away from him.

Drew chose the north bridge because that was the bridge he had crossed to enter Edenford, and he assumed Eliot would come the same way. He hugged the right side of Market Street, walking in the tree’s shadows as the street rounded toward the main thoroughfare. Passing the church, he headed north on Bridge Street, which was lined with two foot high stone walls, and crossed the three-arched stone bridge. He looked for Eliot. No one. It didn’t concern him; he was early.

Drew sat on the stone bridge wall and waited. In minutes he was shivering, as the cold penetrated his clothing. The trickling sound of the river below made him even colder, especially his toes.

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