Limits of Infinity

When Mary returned home, her pot of water was almost gone, leaving the bits of cabbage, carrot, and beef lying in a small puddle at the bottom.

Cursing herself, she carefully pulled the black pot up and off the hook that suspended it above the fireplace. As she swished it around, she figured it wasn’t worth throwing out all the meat and vegetables. She would just add more water and hope the soup came out right.

As she walked over to the well, she couldn’t help but glance at the trees that popped up over the top of the fort wall. They danced in the wind, swaying from side to side in a taunting way.

It was as if they were speaking to Mary, saying “Look at me, oh wait, no you can’t, because you’re in a wooden box!”

Shaking her head, she sighed and grabbed her water before returning to her cottage.

**

While she was waiting for the stew to cook, Mary took up her knitting. The repetitiveness of it all was so comforting, it helped take away the anxiety of being stuffed in this fort.

Under, around, up, over, off. One stitch done. Yarn around, through the back, around, under, up, off. Another stitch done.

Stitch after stitch, her work was coming together, bit by bit. She was in such a trance, she failed to notice when the front door opened.

“Mary,” her mother’s voice scolded. “Do you know what Mr. Almonde told me today?”

Putting down her needles, Mary shook her head.

“Mary, why were you by the fort’s door, and talking to Thomas Heath of all people?”

Mary took in a sharp breath. For the second time today, she had been caught.

“Mama, I hate it here,” she breathed out. “It’s like being stuck in an envelope all day!”

“Mary, what are you talking about? Here, you’re safe and out of trouble. Why are you looking for problems?”

Mary was silent; she knew her Ma was right—she had a good, safe life, and she should be grateful, but she couldn’t shake the restlessness that she felt being in the fort all day.

“Be thankful for the life you have, Mary. Things could be so much worse than they are right now, so just be glad you’re in a good position.”

“I know, Mama. But think of what is outside these walls,” she stood up. “Don’t you ever think of it?”

“It’s dangerous out there, Mary. It’s not a place for young women like you.”

“There you go again with the danger lecture! Why does everyone assume that about this place? John Smith has no trouble coming and going all day. If he can do it why can’t I?”

“We’re not going there, Mary.”

“Why not?” she snapped, then took a step back. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Mary Durham you will not raise your voice at your mother!” she shouted. “Now this conversation is going to end here. Stay away from the door and stay out of trouble. You’re sixteen years old—you don’t need to be attacked by a wild bear, or worse.”

Mary bit her tongue, wanting to scream and tell her mother all that was wrong with that, but she didn’t. Instead, she watched as her mother picked up a small loaf of bread and scamper out the door.

**

The next morning, Mary woke up to her mother getting her things together for the day.

“Good morning, Mary. I’m going over to Lucy Wade’s house for today. She’s very sick and needs help with the kids.”

Mary nodded and watched as her mother put her essentials in a basket. “I won’t be back until this evening before dinner, so I’ll need you to clean the bedding, wash the clothes, and make dinner.” She walked over to the door.

“Oh, and Mary, if I see you near the fort’s door again, you’ll be put on restriction. I’ll find someone to keep an eye on the house to make sure you don’t leave. If you think staying within our settlement is jail, just wait until you’re stuck in these walls.” Her threat been spoken, Mary’s mother left, closing the door behind her.

Since her father was already gone for the day, Mary got dressed in her light pink dress and began her chores.

**

By early afternoon, Mary had managed to clean and change the beddings, wash half the family’s clothing, and start dinner preparations.

I need some rosemary for the meat, she remembered, continuing on with her housework. The best way to stay out of trouble was to stay busy, she decided. Her mother was right—being stuck under the same roof all day was worse than living in the fort for the rest of her life.

The herb garden was right outside the door, just off to the right. It sat green and fresh, roped off by twigs and twine that the Durham’s had lying around.

Stepping over the string, Mary was careful to walk on only dirt and not a plant. She knelt down next to the rosemary bush and began plucking leaf after leaf, branch after branch.

Just like knitting, the repetitive motion was calming and distracting enough to get her mind off things, so she could solely focus on her work—at least, until he came by.

“Mary, you’re doing much better than yesterday, I see.” Thomas came walking over, a cocky, mocking expression plastered on his face.

“Yes, well, your little ‘act of heroism’ yesterday got me in trouble,” she snapped, pulling a branch of herb a little too hard, almost rooting the poor plant.

“Easy, now,” Thomas motioned to the garden. Mary glared. “You may be upset now, but Mary, we both know you never would have lasted in the woods alone.”

“Says who? You? You only met me yesterday,” she retorted, standing up. She left the basket on the ground so she could brush off the front of her dress.

“I may not have known you for very long, Miss Durham, but as a gentleman, I know that the forest isn’t the place for beautiful women like yourself,” he beamed down at her and brought a hand up to her shoulder.

Mary smacked it away, “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“I told you I’d be watched. I’m merely checking up on you.”

“Well don’t,” she countered, stepping out of the garden.

“Why don’t you come on a walk with me?” Thomas asked, extending a hand to help Mary out of the garden, which she declined.

“Why would I do that? Besides, I have to make dinner.”

“Chores weren’t your top priority yesterday, were they? C’mon, Mary. It’ll be quick,” he promised.

“Quick,” she repeated, dropping the basket of rosemary by the door.