North by Night (11 page)

I am sorry to be such a crybaby. I am ashamed as well, for there are those whose hurts cut much deeper than mine. I will rise tomorrow and try to find strength and cheer, but for now my heart brims with sadness
.

Lucinda
S
UNDAY
, F
EBRUARY
2, 1851

I want. I want. I want. The list is so long I feel greedy. Here is what I want—

Cass to get better and have a healthy child

Will and Jeremiah to deliver Emma and the children to Cleveland

A boat and safe passage to Canada for them all

To live in a place where there is no slavery

That is a fine and righteous list. For myself, I count but two wishes—

For my brother and Jeremiah to return safely

To go home

M
ONDAY
, F
EBRUARY
3, 1851

I tried to cheer Cass today but failed miserably. She just lies there in bed up in that huge empty attic and stares at the roof. She doesn’t cry out loud, but tears leak from her eyes. And she barely eats. How can we improve her spirits?

And mine. For Mama sent Tom with a letter that made me lonelier still.

1
February

Dear, sweet Lucy
,

The clouds pile ever so high, and the wind grows strong. I fear another storm. I worry that you and Aurelia have enough firewood and food. We pray for your safety every morning and every night. Our house is quiet. No visitors, and only chores to keep us occupied. Your papa sits and whittles legs for a new bench, but he fidgets. I know his thoughts stray to you as well
.

Miranda is a bee in a bottle. She buzzes to get out, but it’s too cold. Where that child gets her energy, I’ll never know. She’s made me promise to write down her news next, and I will, but I must tell you how she misses you. I sympathize, being a younger sister. I believed my older sister was a queen, ruler of my world. My universe crumbled when she married and left home for Sandusky and the Firelands
.

But I guess this separation may be good for us. You are, after all, a young woman now. We wouldn’t clip your wings or keep you fenced in our yard. You will soon be queen of your own domain, a wife and then a mother
.

I am such a sentimentalist. With half of my heart I want
to hold you back, to clutch my firstborn chick to my breast. And with the other half I envy your youth and your energy. You will soon step into your own life, and that’s tremendously exciting
.

Shame on me. See what this gray sky has done to my disposition. I shall become more cheerful and less melancholy right away. I think I’ll bake a pie. If Miranda helps, it will keep her out of trouble, fior a while at least
.

We love you, Lucy. Come home to us soon. I’ll put this note into Tom’s pocket and send him tomorrow
.

Love
,
Mama

I can barely read the last words, my eyes have fogged up so. But I feel Mama’s care and warmth slip around me like loving arms, comforting me, even from a distance.

It’s odd how distance has freed her to put new thoughts to words … thoughts about my future. We’ve talked before about it—she taught me to sew and we filled a wooden chest with sheets and pillowslips for my own home. But this letter refers to a close-up future. Too close. I’m not nearly ready to leave my family.

I need to stop sniffling and mucking about. I’ll push the serious thoughts aside and read Miranda’s note, for surely that will cheer me up.

Dear Lucy
,

Bad news
.

Reddie flew away today
.

I cried. I wanted to keep him in his box
.

Tom says I shouldn’t mind so. He says God didn’t make birds for us to shut in boxes. He says they should be free
.

I still don’t like it. And I don’t like it that you’re gone. How long do measles take? You belong with us and not Widow Mercer
.

Mama says you’ll come back soon. She says Reddie might come back. He might bring a lady bird and start a nest near our house. I hope so. And I want you to come home right away
. Right away.

Love
Miranda

Not you too, Miri! Now I’m a real mess, missing everybody—even Tom, whom I’ve just seen. I’ll get up and splash cool water from the basin onto my face. How can I become a grown person if I act like such a child? And how can I feel so sorry for myself when Cass lies upstairs, more alone than I can even imagine?

T
UESDAY
, F
EBRUARY
4, 1851

Perhaps it was loneliness that did it. Or else God answered some of my prayers. Whatever the reason, I’m truly grateful.

In spite of a new snowstorm, Cass and I had a lovely afternoon together. Surprising, actually, because we started off blubbering.

I carried her a plate of fresh hot corn bread, ham, and turnips. She pushed the plate aside.

“You need to eat, Cass. I know you feel terrible, but
think about the baby. You need to eat so the baby can get strong.”

She frowned at me. “What you know about terrible?”

I sighed. “I don’t, really. It’s just that I haven’t been away from home before. I feel bad and miss my family, even though they’re just a little distance from here. I shouldn’t be homesick. Your family’s much farther and you’ve left home for good.” I reached up and rubbed at my eyes. I surely didn’t want to cry.

She took my hand and sniffed. “You right about that. I did leave home
for good
. Even alone, I feel
good
not to have that master bother me. But my babies … I wonder where they be.”

Next thing I knew we were hugging each other and crying like babies ourselves. It was then the idea came to me. “Wait! I’ll show you where your children are. I bet Miss Aurelia has a map. You eat your dinner, I’ll eat mine, and afterward we’ll look at the map.”

Well, I was so excited I could barely eat. Miss Aurelia produced a map of Ohio, and I got out Jeremiah’s letters from his snowy trip so I’d be able to guess what towns he and Will might stop in. I don’t know how many times we traced the route from Atwater to Cleveland and then across Lake Erie to Canada, but I know it was enough, for Cass blessed me with a smile. Hallelujah!

W
EDNESDAY
, F
EBRUARY
5, 1851

Will and Jeremiah must have reached Cleveland by now. I’m sure they’ll stay put until they see the boat leave
the dock, so I’ll not calculate or guess about their return, for I’ll be disappointed again. But I hope it’s soon.

Meanwhile, Cass keeps me busy. I wish I could take credit for another good idea, but this one belongs to her.

We looked at the map again this morning. She pointed at a town. “What this place, Lucy? I not sure I remember.”

“That’s Hudson. Halfway to Cleveland.”

“How you know for sure?”

“It says so, right on the map. That word, there.” I pointed. “Hudson.”

“How you learn about words, Lucy?”

“Mama taught me some. Mostly I learned at school. You didn’t get to go, did you?”

She shook her head.

I know most slaves can’t read. Some older folks can, and a few have masters who actually teach them to read the Bible. But way back before I was born, the politicians in most Southern states passed laws that forbid anyone to teach slaves to read.

“Do it be hard? Words?”

“Not really. It takes some time, but anyone can learn it. Even my sister, and she’s only five.”

“How about me? What I got but time?”

“You mean it? You want to learn to read? You want me to teach you?” I wanted to jump up and down, swing Cass in a do-si-do. “We’ll start right away.”

I took to teaching as though I’d been born in a schoolroom. We started with Cass’s name and her children’s
and sped through half the alphabet before she grew tired and needed a nap. Cass is as thirsty for learning as a cornfield in a drought.

I rushed downstairs to share the good news with Miss Aurelia. She offered to do all the inside chores, saying that if I can keep Cass happy, that’s the most important job of all. Two days ago I would have complained that nobody could keep Cass happy. Now I can barely sit still till she wakes up.

T
HURSDAY
, F
EBRUARY
6, 1851

Cass is really funny.

“I like the snaky ones,” she said this morning as I taught her the alphabet. “Ssssss!”

She wrote her name in my journal, proud as can be.

Miss Aurelia gave us paper, and I’ve written out each letter and a picture that shows the sound it makes. Cass helped with the pictures, for I can’t draw worth a peach pit. But between us we have the alphabet done, large and small letters. Tomorrow we’ll list the names of her whole family, for Cass works her hardest if the learning tickles her or connects to something important.

F
RIDAY
, F
EBRUARY
7, 1851

Hunger is amazing. Cass has learned more in three days than Miranda learned in three months. Being grown probably helps, but wanting something for so long and then having a chance at it—well, it’s all I can do to get her to take her naps. She’d sit and trace letters from dawn until twilight if we let her. But for the baby’s sake she needs to rest. Even I know that much.

S
ATURDAY
, F
EBRUARY
8, 1851

I’m writing letters to the family and notes in my journal while Cass practices her letters and short words. She asked if she could write something more in my book and so she did. I only helped with the spelling.

8
February

Dear Miranda
,

Another big storm. Have you made snow angels yet? I bet you have. Next time you go outside, please make an extra one for me
.

I have thought about your friend the redbird. Tom is right, Miri dear. Birds are meant to fly. Always
.

When it gets warmer, you and I will put snips of Mama’s yarn outside so that if Reddie fixes by to visit, he and his lady
bird will see the yarn and make a nest with it. Won’t it be fun to watch them lay eggs and hatch them? I can’t wait
.

Until then, be a good girl and help Mama
.

I love you
Lucy

8
February

Dear Mama and Papa
,

I feel so much better now. Even the storm didn’t make me feel gray, for it came and went quickly, leaving lovely white fields in place of that dreary mud. Will should be home from his traveling soon, and this heartens me, as it must hearten you. So I write these brief notes for him to carry
.

Pray for us all that this winter will pass quickly into spring
.

Your loving daughter
Lucinda

8
February

Dear Rebecca
,

I will stay with Miss Aurelia a while longer, for illness can be unpredictable. I do miss you, but I keep myself as busy as I can and the time flows by. Not a rushing stream, you understand, but a gently meandering creek. When spring comes we shall have to steal at least a week together, for between your news and mine, a day or two would never be enough
.

You have read by now of my romantic quandaries. My
heart leans toward Jeremiah Strong. He is a good man and we share many interests. Doesn’t that sound noble? Truth is, he kisses so sweetly it makes me greedy for more. Wicked!

Poor Jonathan Clark. I like him—but as a friend. Now that I have come to care for Jeremiah, I know that mere friendship is not enough. I still struggle for a way to tell Jonathan that is honest and considerate. Is this possible? I hope so
.

How is Nathaniel? Has he spoken to your father? Write me everything, for with the winter and the isolation of the widow’s illness, my only news comes in letters
.

And what prank have you invented? I have told you my secrets. You must now share your mischief with me. Write soon
.

Best of luck with Nathaniel
Lucinda

S
UNDAY
, F
EBRUARY
9, 1851