Jane Dyer

 

             “Jane dear, Matthew m’boy, come say hello to your sisters,’ my father called from the bedroom. My brother Matthew and I had been in the barn when my mother’s labour pains started. That was yesterday. We spoke very kindly of the babe that was to join our cozy life. Sisters?

            “C’mon now, before your mother sleeps,” he called again impatiently. My brother and I looked at each other.

            “You first,” he said. Five years my senior, I always did what he asked, even if it was a little annoying.

            I crept to the stairs, gripping the railing. Sisters? More then one? I could hear my mother cooing to the little ones. I have sisters. It hit me then. Now I could care for someone other then my over active brother. I opened the door to my mother and fathers room to see my mother smiling down at two pink faces nestled in the folds of swaddling cloth. My sisters.

            “Jane, dear, come. Take Mary from me, you’re a big sister now,” my mother beamed her smile and I couldn’t help but follow suit. I reached for my sister as our mother held her out.

            “Hello Mary, I’m your big sister Jane, but you can call me Janey like our brother Matthew does,” I touched her little nose and her eyes opened. Blue! The bluest eyes I had ever seen on a baby were looking back at me. Our family was completed on June 14, 1617.

 

            Our king, James I, was holding a small celebration in his court and the festive mood caught on to the commoners. Soon everyone was holding small celebrations, so we as a family decided that we would for our new additions. Princess Mary and Princess Emma day, we later told them. They enjoyed the special treatment and our little spot of land seemed immune to horrible things. How wrong I was.

 

            The years passed and my father and mother produced no more children, of which I had no problem. The twins and my brother were enough to keep me on my toes. It wasn’t until after his death that I realized why our family stopped growing. My father started to forget things. Little things at first, but the condition worsened and soon it included people and places, odd jobs and arrangements he had made with neighbours. Next thing I knew I had to tell him my name and how we knew each other. He forgot Matthew, his only son everyday and his wife, Elizabeth.

The years went by slowly and every year more painful then the last. For a month my father’s memory would come back, as clearly as if he’d never lost it. Then right when things were looking up, he’d lose it and everything would spin downward again. I had to take over Matthew’s jobs in the field because my father too incapacitated to do anything.

Then, granting our prayers, the dear Lord took my father on May 24, 1621. Our family was sad to see him go but we knew it was better for him and the younger ones. Mary and Emma were too young to understand why their father never knew them. With my father finally at rest, I thought my family would continue on until Matthew or I married and brought the security that we needed. I was fourteen when my father died; I only had four more years until marriage was an option. Apparently, my mother thought differently.

Only two years after my father died, my mother announced her marriage engagement to my father’s best friend John Wright. He normally came over to help with the harvest. My mother paid frequent visits to his homestead while my father lay in his bed, drooling over his shirt.

            She called Matthew and me into the parlour to tell us the good news.

            “Matthew, Jane, John has something to ask of you,” she looked up at John expectantly. He cleared his throat.

            “Master Matthew, as man of the house, I am politely asking for your blessing in your mother’s hand in marriage,” he turned to me, “and Mistress Jane, as the household groundskeeper, I ask permission of you.” Matthew and I looked at each other. Only two years? Could she not have waited until I found a husband? I curtsied, knowing my mother was expecting our blessing whether or not we actually approved.

“Of course Master John. It would be a great burden you would be relieving of us,” I said. My brother bowed beside me in agreement.

“Please, call me father,” he said and he swooped up and hugged us both, placing a kiss on both our foreheads. I had to grin and bear the wedding for mother’s sake, but I would not call someone else Father.

           

  And so life took up a new tune, as my mother and John started their lives together. My mother, Mary and Emma were soon packing their bags to move in with John just half a mile down the road, but I felt as if I wouldn’t see my mother again. I was sad to see her go.

“Please Janey, come with us. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the little one with Mary and Emma there,” she said placing her hand absentmindedly on her stomach. Little one?

“Mother?”

“Yes, Jane. I am with child.” Though I was happy for the mother and soon-to-be stepfather, I couldn’t help but imagine the wedding dress, with her belly ready to explode. July 13 1623, I watched my mother and my two sisters ride away to their new home. Matthew and I were to stay here until we were either married or John could afford to buy it; adding it to his land.

            Sadly, I turned back to Matthew who put his arm around my shoulders, lightly.

            “Come now sister Jane, we shall make a meal for just the two of us and enjoy our first night in our own home,” he smiled and placed a loving kiss on my head.

            “Yes Brother Matthew, let’s,” I jested using his nickname from childhood. Matthew had once been caught fooling around with a young girl a few years ago behind the church and one of the Brothers, conveniently named Matthew, reported them to the Resident Priest, Father Paul who quickly threatened Matthew with a life of celibacy and prayer.

            I visited our mother almost every day and was beginning to look forward to the birth of my sibling. Mary and Emma were already asking about mother’s stomach.

            “Why does mama’s belly grow Janey?” Emma asked one day.

            “Because, she’s carrying a child. Just like when you and Mary were in there,” I explained. They were joyous that they would no longer be the younger ones.

            The weather began to change, getting colder and the days shorter. The leaves started their regular pattern of changing to golds and reds, shedding the lush greens of summer once again. I watched as my sisters grew through the fall months, still captivated by the changing of the seasons as they were when they were two. Finally November 22 1623 rolled around; the day before the wedding. My mother’s belly was bigger then it had been for the twins’ birth and I was worried.

            “Don’t fret Jane. My mother always got bigger the more children she bore to my father.”

            I slept over at John’s homestead because I had to help my mother dress. My brother and John’s brother, our soon-to-be uncle, James stood as witness. Before Father Paul (who took the time to speak to Matthew privately) my mother and John were married. After the vows were exchanged, the dried wheat thrown and the sealing kiss given, the bride and groom left earlier to change into more comfortable clothing for the festivities afterward. I walked along the road carrying quilts and jars of homemade honey, jam and bread for the night that I was sure would last until the next morning light. I heard humming behind me and I stopped, looking for a change in the mood. Philip Ryerson, the son of the town’s butcher, was leading a cow down the road. He looked up just in time before he knocked me over. As child I had often jested on his long limbs and lack of muscle but in the years since then he had filled out. The day I turned sixteen he had got a cat and at Christmas I gave him his first kiss under the mistletoe. We had been friends since birth, but lately I had begun to think of something more then that.

            “G’afternoon Mistress Jane! How be the eldest daughter of a newly married mother?” He jested, tugging the cow behind him. Philip was a very schooled young man, skilled in singing and most instruments. Philip was so talented with music that I was sure that if you made an instrument one night and gave it to him the next, the day after he would come back to you and teach you how to play it. I chuckled a little at my joke.

            “Something I said?” He asked. I shook my head, linking arms with him.

            “Nay Phil, nothing you said. I’m just thinking about how things are going to change now that mother and John are married. Matthew and I have the old homestead to ourselves and we’re getting lonesome for the little ones. With mother’s birth coming up so soon, they’ll be a burden; I was thinking maybe I could take them while she nurses the new babe. Or babes,” I corrected lightly.

            “Ah, I see now. Well, you’re a beautiful lass Jane. There will surely be suitors in your near future,” and like my brother he kissed my head. I smiled kindly at him liking the way we were so open with each other. I felt good with Phil.

            The night passed just as I had thought with the exception of my mother, her unborn babe and the twins, having gone to sleep rather soon after the festivities started. Matthew had invited a young comely girl of eighteen named Elizabeth Moorly. I never saw him leave her side just as Phil never left mine. I didn’t mind it in the least. Phil was a very handsome man: strong arms, broad shoulders so I wasn’t afraid he wouldn’t be able to work in fields. His teeth were whiter and straighter than most men in our little town outside Canterbury and his hair was the colour of the sun; golden. He had eyes that my sister Mary could rival. The depth of his eyes was inconceivable, they just swallowed me gaze whenever I spoke to him. Matthew noticed long before I did why this was so.

            “Sister, Phil is a nice young man. Do not lead him on if you do not intend anything by it,” he cautioned.

            “Mind your own, Matthew Robert Dyer,” I spat back. I knew what he was implying. I wasn’t thinking of marriage so soon. I was only sixteen. But then I saw Phil from across the room, his eyes lighting up when they caught mine and I knew that what my brother said was the truth. I excused myself from my brother and started to where Phil was engaged in conversation with a portly woman who’ husband owned the bakery. He looked like he as listening but every now and then he would glance up to me and I felt like I was the only one in the room. Is this what father spoke of when he told me about love? My feet seemed like they weighted but half a pound and my head could touch the ceiling. How can I do this to him? How can I do this me? Be the time I got to Phil I knew what I had to do.

            “Hello Jane, is everything alright?” He asked, lowering his head so he speak in my ear over the music and chatter. I nodded.

            “Yes, dear Philip, everything’s just right,” then I reached up behind his head and touched my lips to his. I heard some commotion and snickers at my boldness but I didn’t care. Phil’s arms had wrapped themselves around me and I couldn’t think of a better place to be then here with him. I loved him. I broke off and looked into his eyes, a tear falling through my defenses. He wiped it away with his finger and kissed my cheek where he had stopped it.

            “I’ve waited ten years for you Jane," and I closed my eyes.

 

            Things happened so fast after that. Mother gave birth to a beautiful baby boy on November 31 1623, who they named Henry after John’s father. My mother asked me to stand as his godmother, something I did happily. I spoke to my parents about my taking the girls and though my mother was sad to see them leave, she was happy to have the piece of mind that had been missing since their birth six years ago. I welcomed them home with open arms and was glad for the noise they brought. Phil was over constantly; so much so that my brother took to hiring him as help for the winter. I wasn’t complaining. Matthew and Elizabeth Two were handfasted on December 15 1623, and she came to live with us. Sometimes, when there was nothing to do but watch the young ones, Phil and I would stand out on the front porch as Mary and Emma played in the grass.  

            “We’re the picture of a perfect family Jane. Marry me,” I turned in his arms and smiled.

            “You don’t think I already said yes?” I jested, wrapping my arms around his waist. We were a happy family. All Phil and I needed now were children of your own.

           

            The chilled fall months bled into the months of winter, blocking us from travel to the town. We spent our nights inside curled up by the fire, the girls learning to knit and sew and the boys talking about provisions and my upcoming wedding. Phil even got a lute and played a little for us. Sometimes I joined in the singing but most nights I sat back and watched as my Phil entertained my family. Our family. We celebrated the birth of Christ quietly and content and the New Year just as merrily. 1624 came with silent approach and with it the sun. We watched as the snow receded into the trees and the grasses begin to green. The cows and bulls welcomed new additions and we welcomed my mother, stepfather and little Henry for the first time since he was born.

Then to make things better and even more complete, Matthew and Elizabeth celebrated their wedding on May 24 1624. Everything was right again. Every morning, I would go out to collect the eggs from the chickens before anyone was up and I made breakfast for everyone, then I would set to making dinner* while knitting more clothes for the new babe my mother was carrying. She was over at our house alot now that she was showing. I didn’t mind. It felt like old times; before father died.

Author's Note

Still in the process of being written <3 have fun

Reviews

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Wow, you really have a knack for this. You are able to, very clearly, communicate alot of emotion in your writing. I really enjoyed this.


- Neo