Dillard Beach Mystery – 23

Chapter Twenty-three

October… 1679

As the warm summer days eased into fall, Rebekah’s life in Dillard followed a daily pattern of mothering and midwifery. She cared for her new child, her patients and the house, with scarce time for the garden. Thankfully, Emma came each day to work the soil and harvest the last of the herbs and vegetables.

“It’s not a full harvest as I had hoped in the spring.” Rebekah explained to Emma, “but trades I make with the women I help will keep us in flour and fruit for a few months. With the salted fish and pork John has set by, we should be well supplied into winter. And I still have money promised from Mister Boswell, once I begin selling my tinctures at the village store.

Emma sat on the garden bench, outside the cottage door, sorting seeds and stems as the late afternoon sun sent shadows across the empty garden. “I think you will do well with your tinctures. Our patients have much appreciated those that calm their nerves and bring peace to their souls. And their husbands are glad for the salve you make for their rough hands.”

Rebekah leaned back against the cottage wall. “It will not be long before I will be making more salves and remedies to ward off colds and diseases of the throat. I felt a bit of frost in the air this morning. Winter will be upon us soon enough and there is much to do to prepare for it.” She sighed. “But that will have to wait for tomorrow.” She glanced at the darkening sky above. “It is time you were heading home, Emma. A good day of work, done.”

Emma nodded and promised to return the next day.

Rebekah waved her off and smiled down at her son Ezra, sleeping peacefully in the large laundry basket she used as his crib. She must have dozed off as it was the sound of John’s voice that woke her a few minutes later. He stood in front of his wife, holding what appeared to be part of a large empty barrel.

John explained to his wife, “I found it tossed into the woods and forgotten. One side was damaged, but the rest is still right enough and worth saving for the wood if nothing else.”

“And what is it good for?” Rebekah was skeptical.

“I had an idea it was worth saving and so did a bit of work on it this morning while you and Emma were sorting seeds and such. Tell me what you think of it.”

Rebekah looked closely at his work. John had cut in half what was left of the abandoned barrel, evened off the staves at each end and then he had padded the inside of the wooden cask with a layer of rush covered with a soft layer of wool.

She still wasn’t sure what it was. “What is it I am looking at, John?”

He didn’t respond directly. Rather, he placed the half barrel on the ground in front of Rebekah and gave it a nudge. The round bulging vessel easily rocked back and forth.

“It is a cradle!” she exclaimed. “Oh, John, it is a wonder.” Rebekah proudly declared.

John smiled, pleased that his gift was so well received. “Let us see if little Ezra agrees.” He gently lifted his son from the laundry basket and carefully placed him into the cradle. As soon as the barrel began to rock, Ezra began to smile. His little legs began to pump happily with the rocking.

“I think the boy likes it,” John remarked. “He can pretend as if he were rocking in a boat on the tide.”

Rebekah smiled, “It is a wondrous thing, John. Thank you. Our cradle will be the envy of every mother in the village.”

The next morning, Rebekah carried her son in the new cradle outside while she did the laundry. With Ezra carefully tucked inside under a blanket, she gave the cradle a single push and stood back to watch. The cradle rocked back and forth for several minutes. Lying deep in the center of the cradle, the baby was protected and entertained at one and the same time.

With her son safe, and her arms free for work, Rebekah was able to focus on the task at hand without distraction. The laundry was washed and draped over the bushes for drying and she was able to harvest the last of the dandelions before Emma Ballard walked in the front gate.

“Good morning to you, Mistress Rand,” she called out. She walked towards the cottage and stopped short at the half barrel cradle sitting on the grass next to Rebekah.

“And what is this contraption?”

“It is a cradle! John made it for little Ezra.” She gave the cradle a gentle nudge and it began to rock. Ezra, tucked neatly inside, began to make baby sounds and kick his legs.

Emma stared at the half barrel.

“What do you think?”asked Rebekah.

“I think it a wonderful thing.”