Chapter Five

DILLARD BEACH MYSTERY UPDATE

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Dillard, September 25, 2018

It was five days later that Rebekah and John Rand met at the Sabbath day picnic in the center of the village. After a long morning of prayers and sermons, the worshippers gathered on the grass near the Congregational Meeting House, spread blankets under the shade of autumn trees and shared food, drink and village gossip until the afternoon service commenced. Women arrived with baskets full of cold meat pies and biscuits; the men with jugs of small beer to pass around.
Rebekah brought berries from her garden, a loaf of freshly baked bread and a block of cheese to share. John carried a jug of home made brew.
“I made it from an old recipe my father gave me years ago,” he explained. He held out a small cup for her to hold and poured it full to the brim. “I trust it will please you.”
Rebekah held the cup and took a small sip. “I taste pumpkin, sir.”
“Do you like it?”
She thought about it for a moment, letting the liquid swirl about her tongue. “There is an unusual sweetness to your brew.”
“When my father had no sugar, he added pumpkin.” He could see from her face that the beer did not agree with her. “I know it is best to let the brew rest for a few weeks. Perhaps I have served it too early?”
Rebekah smiled and shook her head. “I have discovered there are some things in the way of brewing, best left to those with much more experience than we mere mortals. You are a fine fisherman, John Rand, and I would never wish to compete with you on the high seas, but a beer maker? You are not.”
He grinned and shrugged his wide shoulders. “I had to bring something to your gathering. And I had the small beer at hand. Perhaps, next time, I will bring oysters fresh from the bay. The water is getting colder by the day and the harvest for oysters will be well worth the effort.”
“That would be a fine idea, John. I will match your oysters in a thick stew with pork and mutton.” She paused. Should she be bold with her invitation and strengthen the bond she now felt growing between herself and this comely fisherman? She studied his features. His eyes were eager and his smile broad. She decided to plunge ahead.
“Such a stew would not easily survive the trip from the shore to the village green and sit even in the darkest shade for the hours it takes for sermons and scripture to pass. Rather, you must harvest the oysters and bring them directly to my cottage at Dillard Bay and I will prepare the stew for your supper one day soon.”
The fisherman blushed crimson and smiled broadly. “What day will you have me, then? Tell me now so I can spend my days in happy anticipation.”
“My days are currently filled with my own need to harvest. Garden chores must be done and tinctures and medicines ready for the women likely to give birth before the new moon. But a visit from you within a fortnight would be most welcome and fit my plans very neatly.”
Before the congregation was called back to worship, the two friends had settled on a date.