A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  Tightly gripping his satchel, Oliver made his way through the station. Stretching his stiff, tired muscles, he walked with long strides toward his mother’s boardinghouse, thankful the old house was nearby and he’d not be required to ride in another coach. He pulled out his pocket watch and clicked open the case. There wouldn’t be time to linger at his mother’s residence. He’d drop off his satchel with a promise to return for supper.

  Taking the front steps two at a time, Oliver opened the front door of the house. A small brass bell over the door jingled to announce his entry.

  ‘‘Read the sign. I got no openings,’’ his mother said as she bustled from the rear of the house.

  ‘‘Well, that’s good news,’’ Oliver replied. ‘‘I’m pleased to hear you’ve a full house and can easily make the mortgage payments.’’

  Edna Maxwell wagged her head back and forth. ‘‘When I heard the bell, I said there were no vacancies, but I do have empty rooms.’’

  Oliver’s eyebrows arched. ‘‘Why would you lie, Mother?’’

  ‘‘It’s not a lie. I’ve filled as many rooms as I can handle at one time. I’m an old woman, Oliver. I grow weary of cleaning rooms and cooking meals for ungrateful boarders who have nothing but complaints to give me in return. Look at these hands,’’ she said, shoving them forward to ensure they were in his direct line of vision. ‘‘They’re gnarled and crippled from age and years of hard work.’’

  Oliver dropped his satchel and walked to the open ledger lying on the desk. Using his finger as a guide, he traced the entries for the last two months. He was incredulous as he shot a look at his mother and then back to the pages, flipping through them in rapid succession. ‘‘You’re renting only three rooms? I’m sending you money to meet the mortgage when you’ve intentionally permitted rooms to stand empty?’’ He clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep his temper in check.

  ‘‘I told you it’s all I can do,’’ she defended.

  ‘‘And what of Gertrude? She may be lame, but surely she can help with some of the chores. Gertrude! Come to the parlor!’’ he yelled.

  He fell onto the frayed settee, his anger mounting while he waited. ‘‘Gertrude! I haven’t all day to wait on you.’’

  His sister’s uneven steps could be heard as she neared the parlor. With as much grace as her crippled body would permit, Gertrude entered the room. ‘‘Oliver, what a wonderful surprise. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was peeling potatoes—it takes me longer than it should,’’ she apologized.

  Truth be told, he didn’t know how she could even peel a potato with her crippled arm and clawlike hand. The entire left side of her body, save her face, was disfigured. A freak of nature, their father said; punishment for their father’s drunkenness, her mother said. But as far as Oliver was concerned, it was the plague of being poor and unable to have a doctor at his sister’s birthing.

  The reason no longer mattered. He was left with the unwanted responsibility of a mother who no longer wanted to work and a sister who was physically unable to be of much assistance.

  ‘‘Your limp appears to be growing worse,’’ he commented as his sister neared his side.

  She leaned down and placed a fleeting kiss upon his cheek. ‘‘It’s no worse than when you last visited. The left side of my body grows weary quite rapidly, and when I’m overly tired, the limp appears more pronounced. Do not worry yourself, brother. I’m quite healthy otherwise.’’

  He couldn’t remain angry with Gertrude. Through all her years of pain and the added torment of enduring cruel remarks by family and strangers alike, her sweet nature prevailed. ‘‘I’m concerned over the fact that only three rooms in the house are being rented out.’’

  ‘‘I try to help all I can,’’ Gertrude said, ‘‘but Mother ails and is unable to do much anymore. She says it’s all we can handle. Isn’t that right, Mother?’’

  Edna shifted in her chair. ‘‘I could possibly take on one more.’’

  ‘‘I’ve been taking in laundry and doing a bit of sewing to earn extra money,’’ Gertrude said while giving her brother a sweet smile. ‘‘The money helps with groceries.’’

  Oliver’s gaze settled on his sister’s lame hand. ‘‘How can you do laundry and sewing with that hand?’’

  ‘‘I manage. It takes me longer, but my customers seem pleased with my work.’’

  Oliver cradled his sister’s face in his palm. She was the only woman in whom he’d ever discovered virtue—the rest always wanted something from him, including his mother. ‘‘You’re a fine girl, Gertrude, and I’m sorry I hollered at you earlier. I was weary from traveling and overwrought when I discovered how the rentals were being handled. It’s not your fault. Please forgive me.’’

  ‘‘Of course, Oliver. Mother and I are very thankful for all you do. I know how difficult it must be traveling about the country selling shoes. I know you’d likely prefer to remain in one place.’’

  Edna narrowed her eyes. Oliver could feel her studying him.

  ‘‘I know that look. What is it you want to say, Mother?’’

  ‘‘We can talk later, when we’re alone. You can put your satchel in room eight.’’

  He returned his mother’s steely glare. ‘‘I’ve a business meeting I must attend, but I’ll return this evening. I won’t take supper with you, as I’m certain you weren’t planning on another mouth to feed,’’ he said in an acerbic tone.

  ‘‘And what business is it that needs the immediate attention of a shoe peddler?’’ his mother rebutted. ‘‘I’ll not always be a shoe peddler, Mother. In the meantime, I haven’t noticed you hesitating to line your purse with the coins I earn selling shoes.’’

  ‘‘You’re always ready with a bit of sass and disrespect.’’

  ‘‘And you’re always quick to find fault with me, so I’d say you’re reaping what you’ve sown, old woman. The fact that you’ve a kindhearted daughter who can bear living with you day after day is nothing short of unbelievable. I’ll take my satchel upstairs when I return.’’

  He strode out of the house, unwilling to be detained by her outbursts, before their argument could escalate any further. Gertrude’s faint good-bye echoed in his ears as he hurried down the street. If all went well over the next year, he would buy a small house for Gertrude and send her a monthly stipend. Let his mother fight to meet the monthly bank note on her own. Maybe then she’d realize how much she relied upon him and come groveling for his help. Oliver reveled in the thought of finally forcing his mother to acknowledge her dependency on him. She withheld her love like a miser clinging to golden coins, never willing to share affection with others.

  ‘‘Likely why Father found warmth in the arms of other women,’’ he muttered as he entered a small tavern not far from the train depot.

  Oliver edged his way through the tavern, skimming the sea of faces in an effort to find his new business partners. Spotting Enoch Garon near the rear of the room, he worked his way toward the tall, muscular man. Enoch wasn’t bright, but he followed instructions and his brute strength was an asset.

  ‘‘Enoch! You’re looking well,’’ Oliver greeted while pulling a chair away from the table and sitting down. ‘‘Where’s Joseph?’’ He scanned the place for the third member of his business association.

  ‘‘He’ll be here. Told me yesterday he might be a little late.’’ Enoch turned toward the front of the tavern. ‘‘Here he comes now.’’

  The men greeted each other, ordered their ale, and waited until it had been served before commencing their discussion in earnest. ‘‘I take it you both have been hearing about the Fugitive Slave Act being signed by President Fillmore,’’ Oliver said after taking a swig of his ale.

  ‘‘ ’Course we heard. Probably long afore you folks up in Massachusetts,’’ Enoch replied. ‘‘Wondered if you was ever gonna get down here and get things going. There’s been lots of opportunities, but me and Joseph wanted to keep our word to you. The time is now to begin hunting down them slaves that’s ru
nning north.

  With this new policy, we’re gonna be able to make some fine money.’’

  Joseph nodded his head. ‘‘Especially since the authorities are required to help us round up any runaways if we ask. Can’t ask for nothin’ better than that.’’

  ‘‘Problem is there’s more and more men seeing this as a golden opportunity. The competition is going to increase, and I’m guessing more of the slaves are going to be afraid to run off, knowing they won’t have safe sanctuary up north anymore. That means fewer runaways and more people out there trying to find ’em.’’

  ‘‘Hadn’t thought of that,’’ Enoch said. ‘‘So we’re really not much better off, are we?’’

  ‘‘Only if you’re using your head to develop a plan beyond the obvious. And that’s exactly what I’ve done,’’ Oliver said.

  The two men leaned in further, anxious to hear what Oliver had to say. ‘‘Tell us what you’ve been planning. You know you can trust the two of us,’’ Enoch urged.

  ‘‘I keep my eyes and ears open while I’m traveling about the countryside, and I’m certain I’ll be able to pry loose information from time to time about runaways. But we need to do more if we’re to make a dependable income from this new law. I’m thinking we should consider capturing some of the freed Negroes that have moved north. We can take them back down south and sell them at auction. Lots easier than actually hunting for runaways.’’

  Enoch rubbed his hands together. ‘‘Or we can take ’em to most any plantation. Those owners won’t care where they come from or if they claim to be free. You got you one good idea, Oliver. And I’ll wager you know where there’s some fine specimens up north that we can get our hands on.’’

  ‘‘Around Lowell, I think I can find a number of fine-looking freed Negroes. More than either one of you can imagine,’’ he said while beginning to formulate a list in his mind. Obadiah, the strong buck over at the Houston horse farm, made the top of his list.

  CHAPTER• 14

  ALICE FANNED HERSELF with a vengeance. ‘‘I did not agree to a small, intimate wedding, Jasmine. You took my silence as agreement, just as you did with your engagement party. If you won’t consider your old grandmother and the pleasure a lovely wedding would bring to me, then think of your friends and other relatives.

  Give them the enjoyment of such festivities.’’

  ‘‘A grand weddin’ would be enjoyable,’’ Kiara agreed as she sat down beside Jasmine while holding a piece of lace in one hand.

  Alice gave Kiara an engaging smile. ‘‘You see? Your friends want to attend a nice affair as much as I do.’’

  ‘‘Grandmother! Will you stop at nothing to have your way in this matter? I do not want a large wedding, nor does Nolan.We’ve decided upon a small garden wedding in October. I think you should be ashamed of yourself for attempting to manipulate me with your emotion-filled statements.’’

  ‘‘To tell ya the truth, I could use some extra time to complete the lace I’m makin’ fer yar weddin’ veil. It’s ta be my weddin’ gift to ya,’’ Kiara said.

  Jasmine sighed and gave her friend a feeble smile. ‘‘You don’t need to go to all that trouble, Kiara. I had a large wedding when I married Bradley. Nolan and I truly do not desire a large affair.

  Besides, you need to spend this time making special clothing for your baby.’’

  Kiara’s eyes clouded as she dropped the lace onto her swollen belly. ‘‘Ya do na want me ta make yar weddin’ lace?’’

  ‘‘That’s not what I meant, Kiara. The lace is beautiful and I truly appreciate your kindness, but I wasn’t planning to wear a veil.

  Couldn’t we use the lace on my dress?’’

  ‘‘If that’s what ya’re wantin’,’’ she replied, though her dejection was obvious.

  Alice poured a glass of lemonade from a cut glass pitcher and took a sip of the sweetened drink before speaking. ‘‘Now you see what you’ve done? You’ve hurt Kiara’s feelings, and you’re attempting to shame me for wanting something as simple as an appropriate wedding for you. I’m an old woman, and I’ll likely die before I have an opportunity to see another of my grandchildren wed. I would think that instead of considering only yourselves, you and Nolan would think of bringing others pleasure also. And before you mention David’s possible wedding, let me say that I doubt my health will permit me to ever travel to The Willows again. We both know David will not come to Massachusetts to wed his Southern wife, and there’s no possibility McKinley will wed in the near future.’’

  Jasmine clasped a hand to her breast and could feel her heartbeat begin to accelerate beneath her fingers. ‘‘What health problems would prohibit your travel? Is there something regarding your well-being you’ve kept secret from me?’’

  Alice took another sip of her lemonade. ‘‘Would such information change your mind?’’

  ‘‘No, I don’t believe it would. However, if you’re ill, you should confide in me so that we can find proper medical treatment. Besides, if you’re truly ailing, I do not want to subject you to the rigors of planning a large wedding.’’

  A frown pinched Alice’s fine features. ‘‘I’m certain my health would improve if I could occupy my thoughts with something exciting—such as a wedding. I’ve been told you can trick the mind into thinking you’re well if you concentrate on other matters and don’t dwell on your illness.’’

  Kiara moved to Alice’s side and gave the older woman’s hand a gentle pat. ‘‘I did na know ya was ailing, and ya can always look ta me to help ya, ma’am. Good I am at takin’ care of those that are sick. Just ask Paddy—I could always nurse ’im back ta health.’’

  ‘‘How sweet you are, Kiara. And I’m sure you wouldn’t deprive your grandmother of something so simple as a wedding, would you?’’

  Kiara wagged her head back and forth. ‘‘Oh, no—I’m only wishin’ me ma could ’ave been here when I married Rogan. What a blessin’ that would ’ave been. And even more ’appy I’d be ta ’ave me mother see this wee babe when it’s born.’’

  Jasmine closely watched the exchange between Kiara and her grandmother. ‘‘I believe you’re as fit as the day I arrived in Lowell and this whole discussion is nothing more than a charade so that I’ll give in to your whims.’’

  ‘‘Such accusations!’’ Alice retorted. ‘‘Do you desire a written statement from the doctor?’’

  Hesitating momentarily, Jasmine watched her grandmother shift uncomfortably in her chair. ‘‘Yes. I believe that would be acceptable.’’

  Alice wilted at the challenge, yet remained unrelenting. ‘‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t require proof of what I say.’’

  Neither woman noticed Nolan enter the room. ‘‘What’s going on in here? I could hear the ruckus before I entered the house. I believe I’ve heard fewer angry voices in the local tavern.’’

  Jasmine’s cheeks flushed. She should never have engaged in such uncomely behavior—especially with her grandmother. She grasped Alice’s hand. ‘‘I apologize for my argumentative conduct.’’

  Alice sighed contentedly. ‘‘Apology accepted, my dear. Now, shall we begin planning the wedding? I’ve a list of things we must accomplish before week’s end, and Kiara must return to working on the lace for your wedding veil.’’

  Nolan cleared his throat. ‘‘Ladies! The wedding plans have already been settled. The ceremony will be small and take place on the twelfth of October. We will be married in the garden, weather permitting, and a reception will follow indoors. There will be no changes to our plans and absolutely no delays.’’

  Jasmine and the two other women stared at him, all three rendered momentarily speechless by his unyielding declaration.

  Completely composed, he walked to the divan and sat down beside Jasmine. ‘‘Now that we’ve settled the wedding issue, I believe I would enjoy a glass of that lemonade.’’

  Elinor Brighton sat in the last row of chairs, ready to hear a lecture on South American butterflies. She wasn’t sure why she’d even come
. Butterflies were of no interest to her, and her free time was so scarce that it seemed quite wasteful. Still, here she was— picking lint from her coarse brown skirt and wondering where life was taking her.

  Sometimes the memories of Daniel and Wilbur were so painful that they threatened to steal away her will to live. Other times, like now, they were bittersweet, almost reassuring reminders that at one point—at one time—she had been loved.

  Why were they gone? Why had they died so young? Her best memories of her life with Daniel were their times together before they’d even married. Oh, it wasn’t that their intimacy as husband and wife hadn’t been joyous, wondrous . . . but rather it was the time spent in conversation, walks in the park, or simple moments in each other’s company that touched her most deeply.

  How she missed the conversation of a man. She longed for something more than inane chatter of the mill girls. Their idea of exciting discourse ran along the lines of what new dress so-and-so had bought, and which young gentleman they were seeing at the time. They were silly and young . . . much younger than Elinor could ever remember being.

  I’m only twenty-six, she thought. Not so very old. But much too old for conversations centering on hairstyles and parties. The loss of her youth to widowhood often made Elinor angry, but this time it just made her feel defeated. The reassurance of being loved faded in light of the loss.

  The lecturer took his place and began to speak of his studies and eventual trips to South America. He spoke with a great booming voice that promised much authority on the matter. Eli-nor sighed. Jasmine Houston was remarrying in a few days. She was one of the only other young widows Elinor had ever known.

  Jasmine was very much in love—of that Elinor was certain, so it only seemed right that she should marry.