North by Night (15 page)

Fondly
Rebecca

W
EDNESDAY
, F
EBRUARY
19, 1851

I’ll go home soon. And a good thing, for if I have time to ponder Rebecca’s letter, I’ll grow gloomy and discouraged. Can my dearest friend in the world disapprove of our work on the Railroad? Can she truly find Quakers too different? I pray not.

The snow began again this morning, and I scurried to bring in extra firewood and complete the barn work before it got too deep. Miss Aurelia stayed inside, cooked, and watched Cass. After the chores were done, I hauled extra water. I also built up the fire so that we could start supper early.

But when Miss Aurelia came down from the attic that afternoon, supper wasn’t on her mind. “Cass is laboring,” she said. “Her time has come, and it’s earlier than we thought. How bad is that snow, Lucy? Can you ride for Bessie Smith?”

Where had the weeks gone? They’d melted into days, but I wasn’t sorry. “I’ll go right away.”

Snow flew everywhere, in my face, across the road, down my neck. The only warmth I could feel came from Miss Aurelia’s dependable mare. I had wanted adventure but hadn’t imagined such a cold one.

When I reached the house, Mrs. Smith readied herself in a moment and we turned our horses toward Miss Aurelia’s.
We rode side by side, heads bent into the wind, a rope looped between our saddles for safety. The wind blew in from the northwest, a lake storm that dumped more and more snow across our backs. Our horses’ manes and tails turned white.

“Perhaps we should turn back,” Mrs. Smith shouted. “I can’t see the road.”

“Cass needs us. We have to go on,” I called. “If we follow the line of trees and fence posts, we won’t get lost.”

I wriggled my toes, but they didn’t have much feeling. I blew warm breath into my mittens. Clouds thickened overhead and the afternoon grew dark. I squinted into the white swirl. The trees that marked the road faded into blurry shadows. I nearly bumped into one as we veered across the road. I corrected our direction and peered into the distance for a lantern light but saw only blowing snow.

It seemed like hours later when we finally saw lights from Miss Aurelia’s windows. I tended the horses while Mrs. Smith hurried inside. Blood and warmth returned to my fingers and toes as I rubbed down the horses, then fed and watered them, giving each an extra measure of oats as a reward. From the noises I heard in the stalls, Miss Aurelia hadn’t had time to milk her cows, so I completed that chore, warming more as I leaned into the solid bulk of each cow.

I felt no great hurry to enter the house. Childbirth is mysterious, frightening. I worried for Cass, but my mind saw Mama’s mournful face after she lost that baby boy. I’d have stayed with the animals for the night, but my stomach growled and I couldn’t very well eat oats. So I
made my way, with brimming pails of milk, through the snow and wind to Miss Aurelia’s kitchen.

She stood at the stove and added water to a kettle. “Oh, Lucy. You’ve milked. What with tending Cass, I plain forgot the poor cows.”

“They’re fine. How is Cass?”

“She says she’s not going to have this baby after all—it’s all a big mistake. Bessie says laboring women get odd notions like that, and it means Cass is pretty far along. Good thing I never had to go through childbirth. My temperament isn’t given to patience.”

I grinned and shrugged off my damp coat.

“Water’s hot. I’ll brew you some tea and set aside a basin for washing. You look all done in from the ride, Lucy.”

“Thanks.” I traded the milk pails for a basin and hurried up. It felt good to strip off my wet clothing and wash with warm water. As I buttoned up my clean dress I heard Cass cry out. My heart thudded with the sound, so like Mama when she was in labor last spring.

I finished dressing and hurried up to where Mrs. Smith sat next to Cass, rubbing her back. “How are you doing?” I whispered to Cass.

“I be tired, Lucy. Plain old tired. But I glad you got this lady to help. Didn’t know what I’d do without Emma.”

“She’s doing fine,” Mrs. Smith said. “The pains come and go, but that’s normal.”

I nodded as if I knew what she was talking about and ducked back down the stairs. I didn’t want to be around if Cass yelled again. It was one thing to ride out in a snowstorm
for help; I could handle that kind of adventure. But sit next to a birthing bed and help, or even watch? Please, no. I’d probably faint dead away and need nursing myself.

In the kitchen, Miss Aurelia had fried up bacon and scrambled eggs. The smells made my mouth water. We sat to eat, and I ate like my brothers—second helpings heaped high. “You’d think I’d been starved for days,” I said when I’d cleaned the last bite of eggs from the plate.

“It’s the cold,” Miss Aurelia said. “And the excitement. You burned a lot of energy this afternoon. You needed a good hot meal.”

“What about Mrs. Smith? Won’t she need food, too? Somebody could stay with Cass while she eats.” I hoped the somebody wouldn’t be me. “And Cass. She’s working harder than any of us. She must be starving.”

“Cass can’t eat. Bessie says so. Bessie had tea and biscuits when she first got here. We’ll spell her from time to time so she gets a chance to rest and eat.”

“All right. I’ll help.”

Miss Aurelia smiled. “Excited about this, aren’t you, Lucy?”

“I’d rather chop wood,” I admitted. “I want the baby to come. And I want Cass to be all right. But pain and bleeding make me dizzy.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Miss Aurelia said. “I’m so grateful you could ride for Bessie. Imagine if we’d had to do this all ourselves.”

“Poor Cass. Imagine if she had to depend on just us.” I shook my head as more noise came from above. “I don’t want to think about it,” I said. “Don’t you have something for me to do? Washing or baking?”

“I’ve already started bread,” she said. “But if you want to clear up these dishes, I surely wouldn’t mind.”

Miss Aurelia tiptoed up to check on Cass, and I set to work at the sink. I scrubbed each plate, fork, and spoon at least three times. I rinsed and dried the dishes until they shone. I attacked the skillet, scraping egg from the sides. But that took only a few minutes.

I wish we’d fed fifty people, or a hundred, so I’d have something to occupy my hands. I’m a lot like Miss Aurelia: God left patience off my list of virtues. I can’t help but question if I’ll ever be a mother myself. First you have to wait nine months for the child to grow, then the birthing takes forever. And from the sounds, it hurts like the dickens. Maybe I’m just plain dumb or I’ve missed something important, but with all the trouble it takes to have children, it seems a miracle the human race has survived.

Poor Cass. Her life has been hard enough. Please, God, give her this baby quick and make it healthy and safe. Amen.

T
HURSDAY
, F
EBRUARY
20, 1851

The birth of Hope!

It sounds like a biblical event. I wore out my knees, praying all night. But the waiting is over. Hallelujah, everybody is fine!

Dawn pinked the sky when we finally heard the soft, mewing cry that told us the baby was born.

Miss Aurelia and I hurried with supplies. She had towels and warm water. I carried the bundle of little
clothes I’d made, with my favorite yellow flannel gown and blanket on top.

I’d expected Cass to look like she’d been beaten up, but instead she smiled at us. “Congratulations, Cass!” I said. “A boy or a girl?”

“Girl. I name her Hope,” she said, her voice strong and proud. “She the hope of our family. First one born free.”

I squeezed Cass’s hand, then turned to Mrs. Smith, who held Hope in her arms. My breath caught as I looked into that tiny face. Her nose was no bigger than my thumb, her eyes shone like black marbles, and her curly dark hair was soft and damp as moss when I touched it.

“She’s beautiful, Cass.” My spine tingled as I touched the tiny hand. She grabbed on to my finger and held tight. “She’s a strong one,” I said. “If she hangs on to her freedom the way she’s hanging on to me, she’ll earn her name and more. Can I wash and dress her? I’ve helped Mama a lot.”

Mrs. Smith passed Hope to me. “Sure enough. She’s a good strong baby, all right. Mind the cord.”

I held her close and she curled into me, warm and sweet.

Once she’d passed me the baby Mrs. Smith bustled around Cass, and it amazed me. I’d drowsed on and off all night while she’d worked straight through yet her energy put me to shame. Miss Aurelia stepped in to give her a hand, and I took charge of dressing the baby.

Hope looked all red and wrinkled, but everything was perfect, from her tiny toes to the soft fuzz on her head.
Her skin was paler than I’d expected, but then I remembered Ruth and Mesha and their white father. I washed and dressed her quickly and wrapped her snug in the flannel blanket so she’d stay warm. I got to hold her for a few minutes more while Miss Aurelia and Mrs. Smith changed the bedsheets around Cass, sponged her off, and put a fresh nightgown on her. Mrs. Smith placed her hand near Cass’s heart and waited a moment, then tucked in mother and baby for a rest.

We made our way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

“She’s all right?” Miss Aurelia asked.

“Baby’s fine,” Mrs. Smith said. “Watch the mother for a day or two. Her condition is tender. Her heart pumps faster than I’d like. It should calm once she gets some rest, but keep somebody with her for at least two days.”

“I’ll help,” I offered. Now that the birthing was through and we had a sweet baby to fuss over, I’d do anything.

“We’ll take turns,” Miss Aurelia said. “We did extra chores last night, so we can rest today.” She pushed back a curtain, and pale early sunlight shone through. “Why is it babies always get born in the middle of a storm? Are they just naturally cantankerous? If she’d waited until today, your trip would have been a sight easier.”

Mrs. Smith laughed. “Babies don’t care about easier,” she said. “At least I’ll have a nice ride home.”

“Shall I come along?”

“I’ll do fine once I get a good breakfast in me. My African blood needs fortifying for these northern winters. You tend to Cass and I’ll ride along on my own.”

We had a quiet day at Miss Aurelia’s. I slept in the morning while Miss Aurelia finished up the last of her chores and watched over Cass. She woke me for midday dinner, and I took charge while she rested, but it hardly felt like work. We’d pulled a rocking chair up to the attic, and I sat there and read some of Mr. Hawthorne’s stories while Cass and the baby slept the afternoon away. My only labor was warming up the remains of dinner for our evening meal.

By that time Cass had awakened hungry, surely a good sign. We all ate together in the attic, and the baby hardly cried. She was probably tired out. Getting born seemed a lot of work.

“Rest again, Miss Aurelia,” I said. “I’ll stay up late and read.”

“Thank you. Wake me when you get sleepy. How are you, Cass? Bessie said your heart raced. How does it feel now?”

“Full of love.” She turned to look at baby Hope. “I plan to mend real quick so we get ourselves up to Canada and free. This baby’s name don’t mean nothin’ unless she get to the promised land and out of the reach of that old Mister Roberts.”

“My brother will drive us, soon as you feel ready,” I said.

“Amen,” Cass said. “We going home soon. Can I write again in your book, Lucy?”

After Cass wrote, she fell back asleep. And so I sit here and admire the beautiful sight of Cass and her new daughter. Every time I look at the words Cass wrote, my eyes sting. Hope is so sweet, maybe someday I’ll get brave enough to have a child after all.

S
ATURDAY
, F
EBRUARY
22, 1851
L
ATE AFTERNOON

I want to burn this journal. I hate the words I must write. I would burn down the whole house and the barns, with Miss Aurelia’s blessing, if it would undo the past day and a half. But nothing can remove the shadow when the angel of death has passed by.

Cass is gone.

I can write no more.

S
UNDAY
, F
EBRUARY
23, 1851
M
ORNING

Today is a black Sabbath. I can find no voice to sing hymns in Miss Aurelia’s parlor. A blizzard has swept through my heart and frozen it.

Yet we have work to do and plans under way. Mama
told me I must write everything down, to honor Cass and to ease my pain. I will try, but I don’t hold out much hope for success.

How could such a thing happen? Mrs. Smith says she’s seen two other cases with the swelling legs and the racing heart. But I can’t listen to her words, for my mind and heart rage. Why Cass? How could God let her die?

It happened in the small hours of Saturday morning. Miss Aurelia took over the watching about midnight, and by then I was yawning. I settled in under the quilt and fell right to sleep. It seemed like only minutes later when she shook my shoulder.

“Lucy. Lucy, there’s trouble.”

I sat right up and spoke the first thing that came into my head. “Catchers?”

“No—Cass. She shakes all over. Something’s terribly wrong.”

I jumped out of bed and ran to the attic. Cass and Hope lay on the pallet, just as I’d left them not two hours past. Miss Aurelia took my hand and led me closer. I could feel her fingers tremble.