Chapter Twenty-six

Boston 1805-1806

The house appeared in a rundown condition, the paint flaking, and shutters hung off their hinges. Grass stood waist-high, weeds choking the once weekly trimmed lawn.  While the house next door was dark, with cobwebs woven over sealed doors and windows.

Colin was running out of time. He promised James Madison that he would return to the Nation’s Capital by the end of October to begin his new position as Madison's aide yet. He lacked the courage to do what he needed to do. Hiding in the shadows he waited for any sign of Isaiah Paige or his daughter Jacqueline, but a sign never appeared.  He never planned to approach the house. He wanted to know if they were all right, then he could go on with his life. He had decided years ago that he would never fall in love again. It was too painful. It was painful for him, and it was too painful for his family. He had turned Jacqueline down years ago for that very reason. Now, he just needed to make sure she was okay, and he could go on with his life.

A little girl with red hair and freckles joined him on his watch.

She asked, "Why doncha just go up to the house and ask em?"

He needed to work up the courage to do the easy thing.

"If you don't go to the door, I will," a young voice from behind him said.

Colin turned to see his young freckle-faced accomplice bundled up for the afternoon chill. "I will go. I just need to formulate a plan."

She scrunched her face and shook her head. "Mommy said I shouldn't come help.”

"Then stop helping me," Colin shouted.

Tears flowed down her freckled face, her lips pursed into a pout.

"I am sorry. I didn't intend to be mean." Colin patted her on the top of her head.

A sly grin filled her face, her eyes twinkled, and her freckles shined in the bright autumn sun. She darted across the street without saying a word. Colin chased after her, trying to stop her. She knocked on the door. Colin’s mouth dropped as the door opened. The freckle-faced girl pointed to Colin and motioned for him to greet the owner of the house. He couldn't move. The young woman beside the door, she was the exact image of Jacqueline, holding a musket.

"Is she your daughter?" asked the Jacqueline look-alike.

Colin managed a weak, "No."

"I knew that." She placed the musket into the crook of her arm."Maybe you could tell me why you have been stalking my house?"

Colin could not speak.

"I should go, papa will wake soon and will want his lunch," she said and turned to go, patting the young girl on the top of the head.

Colin stood frozen, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

 "Wait," Colin blurted out. "Is this still the home of Isaiah Paige?"

"It is," the girl said, "Why do you ask?"

"Is Jacqueline or Isaiah at home?"

The girl left the porch and walked over to Colin pensive, her smile dropping to a straight line. Her eyes, the color of Jacqueline's probed his face for answers. "Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing. I was a friend of Isaiah's, and I remembered he had a daughter, that's all. Sorry for taking up your time. And I am sorry my young friend disturbed you." Colin felt every ounce of blood rush to his head.

The girl from the house stood a few paces from Colin and placed her weapon inside of the door. Her arms dangled by her side, and her eyes were sparkling. "It's impossible. My Grandfather returned from the war and hadn't said a word for nearly three decades. You are too young to have ever known him."

Colin inched closer.

The girl crossed her arms, and she tapped her foot on the ground. "I am sorry to say I lost momma to yellow fever back in '97. Daddy went to Ohio to see if he could find a better life for us. I haven't heard from him in two years. Grandpa, well Grandpa, lives in his little world. He misses his sons. They died at Bunker Hill."

"I know," Colin said, bowing his head. "I was there. Who is your father, and if I might be so bold as to ask your name and age?"

"How could you have been there?" The girl’s looked at Colin.

"Believe me. I was there." Colin was close to the young girl, his eyes pleading.

"I am Beth Olsen. My father is William Olsen. Grandpa brought him home from the war. And my age is none of your business." Beth shut the door.

Colin reached for her hand, but she pulled away. "The last time I saw your father he was freezing in Valley Forge. I haven't seen your grandfather since that awful day on Bunker Hill. I am happy they both survived. I am sorry for your loss. Your mother and I were very close."

Beth stood speechless. Her mind trying to digest what the stranger had told her.

Colin fought his feelings. This was not an ordinary girl, and it was the granddaughter of his dear friend. "Did your grandpa ever mention a Colin?"

Beth shook her head. "As I said, Grandpa hasn't spoken since his return from the war."

Disappointed, Colin hung his head, "Again I am sorry for intruding. I will take my leave now."

"Momma mentioned the name Colin, many times. Sometimes it infuriated Papa. Papa would say you were dead." She took hold of Colin’s hand for an instant.

The light touch sent sensations Colin had not felt for a very long time up his arm and into his heart. "What did your momma say about Colin?"

Beth gazed into Colin's eyes and smiled, "She said to wait for you."  She took Colin's hand and led him inside the house. The entryway had not changed over the years. The living room was as he remembered it except for a large portrait of William and his lovely bride.

Isaiah sat bundled in a corner rocking chair. He stared blankly at nothing in particular. His eyes brightened as Colin stood beside him, his weak hands fumbled for his dear friend's hand, "I was wondering when you would come see me."

 

"I knew it. I knew it. I knew it," Sally shrieked with glee, jumping up and down clapping her hands together. Her joyful antics brightened the room.

Colin smiled before continuing. "I wouldn't exactly say it was love at first sight, I had fallen fast many times over the last eight hundred years. No, it wasn't love at first sight, but it was the closest I've come to it. Well, the closest thing to it since when Alison walked into the tavern after my return from the Crusades."

"What did you do?" asked Grant.

"I don't understand the question, General. I did what every young man does. I fell entirely under her spell. Mind you. I tried not to fall in love. I worked hard. I had decided I would never place myself or another woman through that misery again, but in the end, my heart won out," Colin said with a sigh.

"I meant, what did you do? As in you needed to be in Washington D.C. within the next week or so," Grant said lighting another of his perpetual cigars.

"General, those things will kill you," Sally's mom said before Colin could answer the question.

"Nonsense woman, an excellent cigar could hurt no one. It's in the Constitution, you know." Grant inhaled his lit cigar and vigorously blew out a tremendous smoke ring. "So what did you do about your timetable?"

"I—”

"Just a minute, Colin," Sally's mother interrupted.  "Where in the constitution does it say cigar smoking is protected? I missed that part."

"My good woman, it is in the preamble of course. When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Cigars make me happy," Grant finished with a laugh. The room joined in. "Now answer my question before this confounded woman tells me alcohol will kill me as well."

Sally's mother glared at Grant, but she couldn't pull off the angry woman stare. Breaking into a smile, she said, “Yes, what did you do?"

"I sent a letter to Mr. Madison requesting more time. What else could I do? I wasn't about to leave Isaiah and Beth."

"Did you get more time?" Sally asked.

"Yes and no. Thomas replied that I could take as much time as I required. In his letter, he said that Napoleon was giving Britain trouble in Europe. It would be some time before they could be much of a threat to our sailors. Mr. Madison, on the other hand, requested that I return at once. He informed me that since the British defeated Napoleon's Navy at Trafalgar, he assumed that the British Navy would be free to continue their harassment of American sailors."

"Which one was right?" Grant asked.

"I guess you could say Madison was right. Napoleon passed what history called the Napoleonic Code, which forbade any British vessel from landing anywhere in Europe. The Royal Navy found America shipping merchants to be easy prey."

Grant snubbed out his cigar. "So you left Beth and rushed off to Madison?"

"Hell no. The president said I could take my time. I stayed in Boston.  Isaiah passed away just before Christmas 1805," Colin said.

"Did you tell him the secret before he died?" asked Sally intently.

"No, he said he had already guessed my secret. He called me to his side three days before Christmas." Tears flowed down Colin's cheeks.

 

"Colin it's getting late, we are to be at the theater before 8:00 p.m.," Beth rushed around in the room.

"Relax Beth. I just got here. I don't know why you couldn't have met me at the tavern. It is much closer to Red Lion Street than here." Colin fumbled with his jacket.

"We have been through this, Colin. It is unladylike for me to do such a thing. Not until we are married in two weeks." Beth turned, silently asking Colin to approve her new dress. Colin thought the neckline dipped too much but said nothing.

Colin gripped his fiancée's wrap. "You are right, as usual. Why do we need to go to the theater? Doesn't the Robertson's Touring Company perform Shakespeare?"

"Yes, and there is nothing wrong with trying to fit a little culture into your life." She tapped her foot on the floor and hinted that she needed approval or at least some acknowledgment. She seldom wore such revealing dresses, and she had bought the dress specifically for Colin.

"I have culture. I knew Shakespeare," Colin said defeated.  He knew he would end up at the theater with or without knowing the Bard. “You look beautiful, Dear.”

"You knew Shakespeare, Dear," Beth said with no trace of doubt.

"No, I knew him. He was a friend." Colin handed Beth a shawl.

"Of course, Dear. Did you bring a top coat? We are going to the theater to celebrate your birthday. It isn't every day that you turn seven hundred and forty now is it?"

Colin struggled to place his overcoat on over his expensive suit. "How else do you think Shakespeare got all the facts about English kings that died years before William wrote plays about them?" Colin whispered helping Beth into her coat.

"I know. You told me a thousand times. That isn't getting you out of attending the play," Beth said as she stood by the door waiting for Colin to open it for her.

"Beth and I were married April 7th, 1806, in a private ceremony held in the mostly refurbished Faneuil Hal. The only attendees were the clergy, a handful of laborers, Mayor Byron, and the world-famous architect, Charles Bullfinch."

"That sounds like a particularly odd guest list," Sally's mom surmised.

"Oh, that wasn't the guest list. As I said, it was partially refurbished. Bullfinch and the mayor were going over final details, and the laborers welcomed the break, which we paid for."

"How unromantic," Sally's mother said. "I hope you had a decent honeymoon."

"Well, we honeymooned in Washington D.C., at Mr. Madison's insistence."