A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  Naomi nodded her head up and down. ‘‘Jes’ like me and Oba- diah. Somebody’s hounds woulda chased her down and put her in shackles. But she free now, ain’t she, Missus? Up there in glory, reapin’ her reward.’’

  ‘‘Precisely. You know, even as she lay dying, she was thinking of others—wanting to assure Obadiah could live as a free man.’’

  ‘‘Don’ surprise me none. Ain’t no way I could ever forget Moses. Can’t be forgettin’ a chile after carryin’ him in your belly and birthin’ him, now can ya? It’s like they’s a part of you forever.

  I don’ know what I’d do if somebody took my chile. I don’ think I could go on livin’ if that happened.’’

  ‘‘But if she hadn’t gone on living, Obadiah wouldn’t be a freed man today,’’ Jasmine whispered.

  Naomi’s eyes widened and her lips curved into a faint smile. ‘‘I reckon dat’s the truth. Ain’t no way to know what God’s got in mind for us, is dere?’’

  ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ Jasmine replied, mirroring Naomi’s smile. ‘‘I’m going to have to return to the house and complete some tasks. You tell Obadiah I want him to give you permission to accept the fabric.’’

  ‘‘I’ll tell ’im, but can’t make no promises on what he’ll do.’’

  Jasmine took her cloak from a wooden peg near the door. ‘‘Come along, Spencer. It’s time to go home.’’

  Both boys began howling the moment Jasmine gave the command, and Naomi shook her head back and forth. ‘‘Listen to dat wailin’. You’d think somebody took a hickory switch to ’em. It’s fine wib me if Spencer stays here. I’ll have Obadiah bring him home once he gets done in da barn.’’

  ‘‘If you’re certain he won’t be—’’

  Naomi bent her elbows and placed a hand on each hip, her arms fanned open like two chicken wings. ‘‘He won’ be no trouble. He’ll keep Moses busy. You go on now and leave him to me.’’

  The boys’ tearful protests ceased once they realized their separation had been postponed—at least for the present. ‘‘Come give me a kiss,’’ Jasmine said, opening her arms. Both boys hurried to her, each placing a wet kiss on her cheek before returning to their play. ‘‘You’re certain bringing Spencer home won’t be a burden?’’

  ‘‘ ’Course not—you don’t need to be worryin’ at all ’bout such a thing as that youngun bein’ a burden.’’

  Careful to fasten her cloak before opening the door, Jasmine gave Naomi a warm smile and then directed her attention to Spencer. ‘‘You be a good boy,’’ she cautioned before hurrying out into the bitter cold.

  The shortened winter day had already faded into nightfall when Obadiah came to the door with her sleeping child in his arms. ‘‘He’s tuckered out from playin’ all day. Moses be sleepin’ too. Naomi fed ’em supper, and afore she knowed it, they was fast asleep. You want me to carry ’im up to his bed?’’

  ‘‘Yes, thank you,’’ Jasmine replied while leading the way. She stepped aside when they neared Spencer’s room and watched as Obadiah tenderly placed her son on his bed.

  ‘‘Naomi says jes’ leave him wrapped in dat blanket so’s he don’ wake up,’’ he whispered as he stepped back and looked down on Spencer’s sleeping form.

  ‘‘You can tell her I’ll return the quilt tomorrow,’’ Jasmine said softly. ‘‘I was having a cup of tea when you came in. I’d like to visit with you for a few moments; would you join me?’’

  Obadiah’s eyes opened wide, and his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. ‘‘You want me to have tea—wib you?’’ He moved back several steps and stared down at her before emitting a loud guffaw. ‘‘Can you jes’ ’magine what ole Massa Harshaw woulda thunk of me sittin’ down to tea with a lady like yo’self?’’

  Jasmine joined him in his laughter and then pointed to the dining room chair. ‘‘Please. Sit down, Obadiah. I truly do want to talk to you.’’

  He gingerly lowered himself onto the chair and sat poised at an angle as though ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice.

  ‘‘Don’ want no tea, Missus. I ain’t never took a likin’ to it.’’

  ‘‘Very well. Now that you and Naomi have had time to settle into your new home, I was wondering how you like working with the horses. I know you had fears about adapting to the animals, but Paddy and Mr. Fisher indicate you’ve done very well.’’

  ‘‘I’s likin’ dem pretty good—some better den others. Dat Paddy, he’s good with all dem horses. He sure do love ’em, and he’s been showin’ me how to handle ’em. Paddy says horses is like people, takes ’em a while to get used to ya,’’ Obadiah said with a wide, toothy grin.

  His smile was a duplicate of the giant beams of approval Mammy had bestowed upon her as a child, unleashing a torrent of memories. Jasmine steadied her hand before pouring a cup of steaming tea. ‘‘I’m pleased you’re beginning to feel more at ease with the animals and that Paddy is helping you. I’m hopeful you and Naomi are beginning to make plans to remain on the farm.

  Once spring arrives, I’d like to begin construction of a more acceptable home for your family.’’

  Obadiah sat back in the chair and began shaking his head from side to side. ‘‘Oh, no, Missus, we be jes’ fine in the place we’re livin’. Naomi got it fixed up good, and she’s set herself to makin’ curtains out of dat cloth you gave her. And I’m thankin’ ya for that—I was gonna say somethin’ when I first got here and den fergot.’’

  ‘‘You’re quite welcome. Aside from the fact that the place you are living in is no more than an outbuilding for storage, I want to construct a more suitable home for your family, Obadiah. Building a home for your family would give me great pleasure.’’

  ‘‘Don’ know how to put dis into proper words, Missus, but all you’s doin’ for us, well, it’s hard to understan’. I keeps thinkin’ I’m in a dream and gonna wake up to Massa’s whip any minute.’’

  Jasmine’s stomach lurched at the mention of a whip. ‘‘This is no dream, Obadiah. You have the papers showing all of you are free, and it would give me much joy to have you agree to remain here on the farm. However, if you think your family would be more content elsewhere, I’ll not attempt to force you to remain in Massachusetts.’’

  ‘‘Don’ see how there could be anyplace we’d be treated better, Missus. This here has been a blessin’ straight from God. When we was livin’ with Massa, I spent mos’ all my time worryin’ ’bout Naomi and Moses. Didn’ matter none if he beat me, but I didn’t want him hurting Naomi.’’

  Deep ridges creased Jasmine’s forehead. ‘‘Why on earth would anyone whip Naomi? I can’t imagine her ever causing a problem. She’s so gentle and sweet-spirited.’’

  Obadiah paused a moment before speaking, his voice almost a whisper. ‘‘Ol’ Massa didn’t whip her. He used her body for his own pleasure. Knowin’ what he did to her, dere was times when I wanted to kill dat man with my bare hands. ’Specially what with her bein’ his own flesh and blood and all. You’d think that woulda stopped him. But weren’t nothin’ got in Massa Harshaw’s way when he was drinkin’ and wantin’ him a woman.’’

  Jasmine sought to hide her incredulity, but her jaw had gone slack at the revelation and she couldn’t seem to regain her senses. ‘‘Naomi is Mr. Harshaw’s daughter?’’ she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  Obadiah gazed down at the patterned wool carpet and nodded his head. ‘‘Never made her life no easier, neither. The missus hated Naomi from the day she was born. When Naomi got older and the massa begun having his way wib her, there was no help for Naomi. She was abused at night by the massa, and the next day his missus would be taking a whip to her, acting like it was Naomi’s fault.’’

  ‘‘He didn’t bother her after you became her husband, did he?’’

  Obadiah released a deep growl. ‘‘Only reason he let us get married in a slave ceremony was to make his missus think dere was nothin’ more goin’ on with Naomi. When he’d come to our cabin at night, he said Naomi weren’t my wife ’cause sl
aves ain’ got no right to get married. First time he come, I tried to stop him, and he went and got the overseer. Overseer near beat me to death while ol’ Massa stayed in da cabin with Naomi. After dat, Naomi said she was gonna leave me if I didn’t let the massa have his way with her. Naomi said he’d kill me nex’ time, and she wasn’t going to be responsible if dat happened.’’ Obadiah buried his face in his large callused hands. ‘‘I didn’ want her to leave me.’’

  ‘‘You ought not feel ashamed. You did the only thing you could—you gave her comfort and loved her.’’

  ‘‘Sometimes dat ain’t enough,’’ he lamented. ‘‘Tell you the truth, we don’ know who be Moses’ father. I knows one thing fer sure. Miz Harshaw thought Moses was sired by da massa. She did everythin’ she could to get da massa to kill the boy. I don’ know why, but he didn’ give in to her.’’

  Jasmine could hear the pain in Obadiah’s voice as he recounted their past. ‘‘Probably because he feared killing Moses would be an admission to his wife that he had been continuing in his reprehensible behavior with Naomi after she was married to you.’’

  ‘‘I never thought ’bout dat. You’s prob’ly right. But dat ole mistress forced Naomi back to the fields and made her leave Moses in da nursery. Naomi even begged to carry da baby with her to the fields. We knew dat ole slave in the nursery was gettin’ extra rations fer treatin’ Moses poorly and not feedin’ him, but there wasn’t nothin’ we could do. For sho’ Moses would be dead if you hadn’t come and saved us from dat place. I tol’ Naomi it was da hand of God dat worked through you and saved us.’’

  Jasmine stared at him, taken aback by his pronouncement. ‘‘I was merely doing what your mother asked of me, Obadiah.’’

  ‘‘Well, we all is God’s instruments, if we jes’ listen and do what He asks. I’m sho’ glad you took it upon yo’self to be obedient.’’ Obadiah got to his feet. ‘‘ ’Less der’s somethin’ else you need to talk ’bout, I bes’ be gettin’ back home. Naomi’s gonna be won-derin’ if I got myself lost between here and dere.’’ He chuckled loudly at his own humor.

  ‘‘No, nothing else. I merely wanted to tell you about my hope that you and your family would remain here on the farm and my desire to build a house for the three of you come spring.’’

  ‘‘Like I said, dat place we got now is plenty fine, Missus. We ain’t plannin’ on goin’ nowhere.’’

  ‘‘I’m pleased to hear that,’’ she said while escorting Obadiah to the door. ‘‘Tell Naomi thank-you for looking after Spencer this afternoon,’’ she called after him. She could see the outline of his muscular arm as he waved.

  ‘‘Glad to have him.’’ His deep voice resonated though the cold night air like a vibrating tuning fork.

  Long after she closed the door, Jasmine weighed the revelations spoken this night. She believed every word of what she’d been told. There was little doubt Naomi’s bloodline was mixed, but Jasmine had never considered the possibility that Jacob Harshaw might be her father. The thought sickened her. Yet that same repulsive man had likely fathered sweet little Moses. Moses with his pale, buttery skin. Moses, more white than Negro. Moses, sired by his own grandfather! A chill ran through her being. Obscene!

  Jasmine stood inside the front door of her home and welcomed each member of the Ladies’ Aid Society. This marked the first time she would be acting as hostess since her return to Lowell, and she was pleased to see the group was continuing to increase in numbers. Thankfully Kiara had helped with preparations and would assist with serving while Naomi maintained a mindful watch over Spencer for the afternoon.

  ‘‘Don’t stray too far,’’ she whispered to Daughtie Donohue. ‘‘I’m not certain I remember the names of some of the ladies.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be right by your side as soon as I hang my cloak,’’ Daugh-tie replied.

  ‘‘Never ya mind. I’ll be takin’ that for ya,’’ Kiara said, grasping the cloak before Daughtie could object.

  ‘‘Kiara insisted there was nothing that needed to be done in the kitchen until later, and she might as well impress the ladies with her ability to act as my maid,’’ Jasmine said. ‘‘She is a dear friend.’’

  ‘‘She isn’t still working for you, is she? I’m certain Rogan’s wages are sufficient, although I know there are days when Liam hasn’t enough work to keep him busy.’’

  ‘‘On those days when Liam can’t keep Rogan busy, I do. He helps out with the horses at every opportunity. Paddy and Mr. Fisher do a fine job, but there’s always plenty of work around here. Now that I’m certain Obadiah is planning to stay, I may buy some additional land and increase our stock.’’

  Daughtie raised her eyebrows. ‘‘So he’s decided to remain in Massachusetts? I thought they might feel safer if they went on to Canada.’’

  ‘‘They’re safe right here. He has his papers showing he’s free, and he lives on my property.’’

  ‘‘We both know that even papers are sometimes not enough to keep a freed man out of shackles. For their sake, don’t ever involve them in helping the runaways, Jasmine. There’s little doubt that their house is the first place where bounty hunters are going to look. Eventually, they’ll come to realize that they’re not involved, but you should prepare Obadiah for his house being searched and possible ill treatment.’’

  Jasmine arched and straightened her shoulders until she looked like a soldier standing at attention. ‘‘Not while he lives on my property!’’

  Daughtie motioned toward a group of women entering the house and then whispered to Jasmine, ‘‘Anyone in this group you don’t know?’’

  ‘‘No. I remember all of them,’’ Jasmine whispered in return before turning her attention to the clustered visitors. ‘‘Welcome, ladies. Kiara will take your wraps, and then you may go into the parlor.’’

  After all the expected members had arrived, Jasmine welcomed the group before requesting Daughtie come forward to direct the meeting.

  Appearing younger than her thirty and five years in a golden taupe silk dress, Daughtie gracefully moved forward to face the assembled group. ‘‘I’m pleased to see so many in attendance and want to first tell you that your good works have helped many on their journey to freedom. However, we cannot rest upon our past good deeds. There is much work that remains before us, and I hope each of you will prove equal to the task. We’ve received word that arrangements are being made for the movement of another large group of runaways. They will assemble together for their journey northward.’’

  ‘‘How many and exactly when are they arriving?’’ Nettie Harper inquired.

  ‘‘I can only tell you early spring, Nettie. Quite frankly, the less information we have, the better it is. A slip of the tongue can prove dangerous,’’ she said with a pleasant smile.

  ‘‘I merely wondered how much time we would have to acquire goods for them. There isn’t much left on hand.’’

  ‘‘Exactly,’’ Daughtie said. ‘‘We are in dire need of replenishing supplies, and that is why I asked Jasmine to hostess this meeting. None of us realized there would be so many provisions required for the last large group that passed through. And, of course, there have been several smaller groups since then. At this particular point, we couldn’t be of substantial assistance to even a small number of runaways.’’

  ‘‘Except to hide them and escort them onward. I’d say that’s substantial,’’ Elinor stated.

  ‘‘Well, of course, Elinor,’’ Daughtie agreed. ‘‘Our highest priority is to provide safe haven, but my prayer is that we will concentrate our efforts and do much more than that.’’

  Elinor moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward to gaze upon the assembled women. ‘‘I suppose you are all aware that the South is not going to continue tolerating Northern assistance to runaways. Is there some plan how the Society is going to handle that matter?’’

  Jasmine glanced back and forth between Daughtie and Elinor.

  ‘‘Having recently been in the South, I don’t think we
have major concerns at this point. Let’s not borrow trouble.’’

  ‘‘My thought also. You’re always expecting the worst instead of celebrating our successes,’’ Nettie Harper snapped.

  Elinor glared at the older woman. ‘‘Perhaps life has taught me to proceed with caution, Nettie. Unlike you, I’ve encountered more tragedy than success in my years.’’

  ‘‘If we could get back to the reason why we’ve gathered,’’ Daughtie interjected, ‘‘I’d like to focus our energies upon collecting necessities. I’ve given thought to having each of you take charge of one specific type of goods.’’

  Nettie waved her handkerchief in Daughtie’s direction. ‘‘I’d like to be in charge of quilts and blankets.’’

  ‘‘I’ve assigned quilts and blankets to Hannah,’’ Daughtie replied. ‘‘With your exceptional needlework, I hoped you would agree to take charge of clothing for babies and children.’’

  ‘‘Well, ’tis true my stitching is finer than most,’’ she said, pursing her lips into a tight knot. ‘‘I suppose I am better suited for something more difficult than blankets and quilts.’’

  ‘‘Might be good for you to check the Scriptures addressing the issue of pride,’’ Elinor muttered.

  ‘‘Speak up, Elinor. You’re mumbling,’’ Nettie snapped.

  Jasmine noted the flash of anger in Elinor’s eyes and interrupted before an argument could ensue. ‘‘What about other articles of clothing, Daughtie? Have those been assigned?’’

  Daughtie glanced at the list she was now holding in her hand. ‘‘Elinor, I wondered if you would take charge of shoes. Is that acceptable?’’

  Elinor looked around the room, obviously expecting someone to challenge her assignment. When there was no objection, she nodded her head. ‘‘I’m certain many of the mill girls can be persuaded to donate their old shoes. We need only tell them we’re collecting for the needy. I’ll ask the other keepers to spread the word.’’