A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  McKinley’s jaw tightened. ‘‘I’ve already said I stand for abolition— and so does Violet. However, abolition is an entirely different issue from what’s going on in your house, Jasmine. Continuing down this path of reckless behavior will only lead to disaster for both your family as well as Moses. Did you not hear anything I said earlier?’’

  ‘‘Indeed I did. I tried to ignore and forgive it,’’ Jasmine replied angrily.

  Nolan stood and moved to stand by Jasmine. ‘‘I think we should all calm ourselves a bit. Let’s not permit our emotions to rule. I wouldn’t want any of us to say something we’d later regret.’’

  Stroking Moses’ cheek, Jasmine continued to rock back and forth. ‘‘I believe McKinley and Violet have already spoken their true feelings—as have I. When I gave my word to Mammy to help Obadiah, my promise was unqualified.’’

  ‘‘You’re a fool, Jasmine. You know that even a single drop of Negro blood is enough to categorize a person as colored,’’ McKinley argued. ‘‘That boy may appear as white as you or me, but by law, he’s a Negro. The entire country is dividing itself over issues such as these.’’

  Jasmine clenched her fists. ‘‘I believe the Southern ways are morally flawed. Moses shouldn’t be penalized because of his heritage. Truth be told, there’s more white blood running through his veins than Negro blood. And you, McKinley! I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. It’s obvious I don’t know you. You increasingly appear as much a bigot as the Southern plantation owners.’’

  Violet clasped a hand to her chest. ‘‘I do believe you’ve become overwrought, Jasmine. You know McKinley and I both support the abolition movement. We both oppose slavery, but you go too far. Raising a colored child as though he’s white goes beyond the pale. You may think you’re doing an admirable thing, but Moses is the one who will suffer for it.’’

  Jasmine stood with Moses in her arms. ‘‘Before another word is said against this child, I want both of you to leave our home.’’

  CHAPTER• 23

  BASKING IN THE ADULATION of the evening’s festivities, Malcolm Wainwright leaned back in the padded dining chair and smiled as his eldest son stood to speak to the gathered members of the Boston Associates. All agreed Samuel Wainwright had proven to be a wise choice as Bradley Houston’s replacement several years prior. Although some members of the Associates had initially voiced their misgivings regarding Samuel’s abilities, they soon withdrew their criticism. Moreover, Samuel had far exceeded the expectations of even the most hardened opponents, securing prices and suppliers that pleased both the Associates and the cotton growers.

  ‘‘I thank you for your vote of support and the fact that you’ve been accommodating when circumstances required. Such willingness to negotiate has won the confidence of the Southern growers with whom I deal. Consequently, they have become our greatest champions when securing new growers. They are vocal in their praise, and I now have growers contacting me.’’

  Nathan Appleton raised his glass of port. ‘‘You’ve become one of our greatest assets, young man.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Mr. Appleton. I consider it a privilege and an honor to work for the Associates. And you may rest assured there will be no shortage of cotton for the new mill you plan to open this year. In fact, I may be required to turn away growers in the future.’’

  ‘‘Such an event is difficult to believe. However, I, too, applaud the great strides you’ve made,’’ James Morgan said. ‘‘I wonder if it would be prudent to begin accumulating and storing the cotton while the prices are good. If abundant supplies are now available, I think we should take advantage of them. After all, who knows what the future holds.’’

  ‘‘Good point. However, before we begin stockpiling, we need to assure ourselves there’s adequate space and ability to maintain the quality of the cotton. Let’s remember, we’re now producing fifty thousand miles of cloth annually. Matthew, could you or McKinley assess the viability of such a feat?’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ Matthew said. ‘‘We’d be pleased to take on the project and report to you at our next meeting, unless you want an answer prior to then.’’

  Nathan glanced around the room. ‘‘I think the next meeting would be acceptable. After all, you’ll need some time to survey the possibilities and formulate your report. Don’t you agree, gentlemen?’’

  Murmurs of assent circled the room, and after the men had discussed a few remaining routine issues, the meeting adjourned. Malcolm watched as McKinley spoke briefly to Matthew Cheever before crossing the room. ‘‘Good to see you, Father. I knew you’d been invited to the dinner meeting but didn’t know if you’d make the journey north. I’m pleased you chose to attend.’’

  Malcolm grasped his son’s hand and pulled him forward into a brief embrace. ‘‘Good to see you also, my boy. Appears as if things are going well between you and Mr. Cheever.’’

  ‘‘Yes, quite well. I was hoping to accompany you and Samuel on the train—if you’re returning to Lowell in the morning. Mr.

  Cheever is required to remain in Boston for several more days.’’

  ‘‘Of course we’re returning to Lowell. Your grandmother would have my head on a plate if I failed to visit, and your sister would never forgive me if I didn’t spend time with her and the family.’’ Malcolm’s brows furrowed, his brown eyes filled with curiosity. ‘‘I’m surprised Jasmine didn’t mention my arrangements. I sent an updated schedule for my visit in my latest missive to your sister and asked that she share the information with you and your grandmother. Have you not seen Jasmine of late?’’

  ‘‘Not for nearly three weeks. I’d prefer to wait and explain the circumstances as we travel to Lowell. I have another meeting with Mr. Cheever before I return to the hotel,’’ McKinley said as he glanced toward several of the Associates standing nearby.

  The next morning the trio boarded the train and once they had settled into their seats, Malcolm turned his attention to McKinley. ‘‘Now do tell me why you haven’t been to visit your sister. I can’t believe your work keeps you so busy you can’t spend an occasional Sunday afternoon with her. Although our family is now scattered about the country, those of us who are near one another should be mindful to maintain strong familial ties.’’

  ‘‘You’re lecturing the wrong person, Father. Jasmine expelled both Violet Cheever and me from her home.’’

  His father and brother looked like they didn’t believe him.

  ‘‘What nonsense is this you’re speaking?’’ Malcolm said. ‘‘Do you truly expect me to believe your sister would bar you from her house?’’

  McKinley raked his fingers through his disheveled hair. ‘‘Believe what you will, but when you visit her, she and Nolan will both confirm the truth of my statement.’’

  Malcolm frowned while lowering his spectacles farther down on his nose. ‘‘And what did you say or do to cause such an edict?’’

  ‘‘You immediately assume it is my impropriety that caused the breach between us. But you have been away from Jasmine too long and forget her behavior can sometimes become unruly when she doesn’t get her way. Believe me, even Violet Cheever was appalled by Jasmine’s conduct.’’

  Certain he now had both his father’s and Samuel’s attention, McKinley launched into an explicit reenactment of the Sunday afternoon debacle, leaving no detail to the imagination.

  Malcolm’s jaw went slack as he listened to McKinley’s words. ‘‘So she actually plans to rear that boy alongside Spencer as though they’re equal—like brothers?’’ He choked on the last two words.

  ‘‘Yes. She’s gone completely daft over the notion that she promised Mammy she’d help Obadiah. Pure nonsense. Mammy would never have expected such inappropriate behavior. Quite frankly, I’m certain Mammy would have preferred her grandson to be raised as he is—a Negro,’’ McKinley said.

  Malcolm frowned. ‘‘What are you talking about? Mammy had no grandchild. She had no children.’’

  McKinley froze. He’d
been certain that Jasmine had told their father the truth about Obadiah, yet it was clear that Malcolm had no idea what he was talking about. McKinley drew a deep breath. ‘‘I suppose I’d better explain.’’

  ‘‘I suppose you’d better,’’ his father agreed.

  ‘‘Before Mammy died, she called Jasmine to her side and told her that she’d given birth to a son many years earlier. I can’t remember what happened to her husband, but he was gone. Her master, Mr. Harshaw, threatened to kill the child if she ever said so much as a word to you about him, because Harshaw knew your desire to keep families together.’’

  ‘‘But why not just sell the boy with his mother?’’ his father questioned.

  ‘‘I don’t know. I presume because he figured to raise the boy to be a strong field hand. Obadiah was his name, and he did indeed grow up to be a strong man. After Mammy told Jasmine about it, she asked Jasmine to try to set Obadiah free.’’

  ‘‘That seems so unlike Mammy.’’ Malcolm looked at Samuel. ‘‘Did you know anything about this?’’

  ‘‘Nothing.’’

  ‘‘I am sorry,’’ McKinley began again. ‘‘I presumed that by this time you knew.’’

  ‘‘I knew there were former slaves living on Jasmine’s land,’’ Malcolm admitted. ‘‘I just didn’t realize why they were living there or the connection to Mammy.’’

  ‘‘Jasmine felt honor bound,’’ McKinley stated. ‘‘As I suppose she feels now with Obadiah’s son, Moses.’’

  ‘‘This is the boy she’s raising as an equal with my grandson?’’

  McKinley nodded. ‘‘She’ll hear nothing of protest against this. That’s why I’ve long been absent from her company.’’

  Malcolm balled his fists against his thigh. ‘‘She’s insane to believe such a thing will produce anything but grief. She knows about the slave laws.’’

  ‘‘Indeed, but she cares little for that or what people think. She merely sees her treatment of Moses as an extension of her abolitionist work. But it’s not, and this will no doubt lead to trouble in the future.’’

  Samuel nodded his agreement. ‘‘It’s all this freethinking that’s led to Jasmine’s irrational actions. First she came up here and got herself involved in the antislavery movement, then she became an outspoken advocate, willing to set aside her Southern roots, and now she’s breaking ties with her own family. What else will she do?’’

  ‘‘She’s already done more. I failed to tell you she’s permitted those two Irish workers to purchase an interest in the horse farm— and the young one, Paddy, not even a man yet,’’ McKinley added, his anger building as he told the tale.

  ‘‘It appears there’s much at stake here,’’ Malcolm said, ‘‘but I think the issue of Jasmine raising that colored boy as her own flesh and blood is my first priority. I sincerely doubt that Nolan will overrule Jasmine concerning the child. Years ago he expressed a deep belief in the right to equality for all Negroes. Consequently, it will be difficult to persuade either of them that their decision regarding the colored boy is flawed. Especially given her promise to Mammy. I must think on this matter.’’

  The train car swayed and gently rocked back and forth over the tracks as they continued on toward Lowell. Malcolm leaned back, his thoughts filled with the information McKinley had shared. Frightful news for a journey he had hoped would be filled with pleasure. The only positive aspect of the entire conversation had been McKinley’s comments regarding coloreds. Perhaps his youngest son was finally realizing that abolition was not the answer to the country’s unrest regarding the slavery issue.

  Malcolm thought about Mammy and the baby she’d been forced to leave behind. It grieved him, as he had always prided himself on keeping slave families together. It had been one way that he told himself he had risen above the rest. Slavery was a necessary evil, but a master needn’t be cruel.

  But I was cruel and I didn’t even know it, he thought, closing his eyes against the world.

  With Spencer on one side and Moses on the other, Jasmine knocked on the front door of her grandmother’s house. ‘‘Good morning, Martha.’’

  ‘‘Good morning, Miss Jasmine. Come in. Your grandmother’s upstairs, but I’ll tell her you’re here,’’ the aging housekeeper replied.

  Martha stepped aside and moved toward the stairs. Glancing briefly over her shoulder as she ascended the steps, Martha said, ‘‘I’m certain your grandmother will be pleased to see you. It’s been too long since you’ve visited.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Martha,’’ Jasmine replied before leading the boys into the parlor. ‘‘Now sit nicely,’’ she instructed them, seating the boys on either side of her.

  ‘‘Jasmine! What a wonderful surprise,’’ Alice Wainwright said as she entered the room and gave her granddaughter a hug.

  ‘‘I should have sent word I was going to call. However, I discovered only yesterday that McKinley was out of town, and I wanted to be certain and tell you I had a letter from Father. He said you were aware he was coming for a visit but to advise you he’d likely arrive tomorrow.’’

  Alice pursed her lips and frowned. ‘‘I wish I would have had a bit more time for preparation.’’

  ‘‘I apologize, but I didn’t want an encounter with McKinley. He’s likely told you I’ve banned him from our home. I have no interest in being around him.’’

  ‘‘And since he lives with me, I’m forced into the middle of your dispute.’’

  Jasmine frowned. ‘‘If you’ve been placed in an uncomfortable position, that’s McKinley’s doing. After all, I’ve not even seen you for over three weeks.’’

  ‘‘Exactly my point. In the past, you would stop whenever you were in town, and I could always depend upon having some time with you and your family on Sundays. Now all of that has changed. And from what McKinley tells me, your decision to stay away is due only in part to your argument with him.’’

  ‘‘Why? What did he say?’’

  ‘‘He mentioned your lack of attendance at church is due to your feared reaction from church members—regarding Moses.’’

  Moses immediately pointed to himself. ‘‘Moses,’’ he said.

  Jasmine smiled at the child. ‘‘Yes, you’re Moses. Grandmother, if we’re to have this discussion, perhaps the boys could join Martha in the kitchen for cookies.’’

  Alice rang a small bell that sat near her chair, and within moments, the housekeeper appeared at the parlor door. ‘‘Would you have some cookies or fruit that might keep the boys occupied in the kitchen for a time, Martha?’’

  Martha smiled. ‘‘I have some gingerbread I’m certain they’ll enjoy. Come along, boys. I have a treat for you in the kitchen.’’

  Spencer and Moses wriggled down from the settee and trailed after the housekeeper like goslings following a mother goose.

  ‘‘Thank you, Martha,’’ Jasmine called after the older woman before turning back toward her grandmother. ‘‘I do have concerns about attending church with Moses. There are many judgmental and self-righteous members at St. Anne’s.’’

  ‘‘There are judgmental, self-righteous people everywhere, child. The church is filled with imperfection. After all, this world is populated with sinners. I would like to say that from the time I became a believer, I no longer sinned, but that would be a lie, and one more transgression,’’ Alice said with a chuckle.

  ‘‘However, it appears those who profess their belief in the Lord are sometimes the worst offenders—always looking for reasons to find fault with others,’’ Jasmine said.

  ‘‘I learned long ago I can’t change others and the way they act, but I can attempt to live in a way that I hope is pleasing to God. If others see a glimmer of Christ in me, perhaps they will have changed hearts and attitudes. If you believe rearing Moses as your own is what you should do, then have the courage of your convictions. You can’t hide at the farm for the remainder of his life. Besides, you’d be doing both Spencer and Moses an injustice.’’

  ‘‘Then you believe
people will eventually accept the boy?’’

  ‘‘Accept? No. Tolerate? Possibly. Oh, there will be some who will be cruel and never attempt to understand, and there will be a very few who will accept what you’re doing. However, you cannot base your decisions on what others think. If you believe this is what God is leading you to do, then take heart and have courage.’’

  Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, Jasmine wiped away the tears that had begun to form in her glistening brown eyes. ‘‘I’m not certain what God would have me do, Grandmother. None of this was planned. Obadiah made his decision to go and find Naomi, and the situation simply evolved after that.’’

  ‘‘So this is more a matter of happenstance than planned behavior?’’

  The muted sound of the boys’ carefree laughter could be heard in the distance and a faint smile curved Jasmine’s lips. ‘‘Yes. My hope is that Obadiah and Naomi will return, but I promised Oba-diah I would make certain Moses knew about his parents if neither of them came back to Lowell. I intend to keep my word. However, the first night Moses stayed with us after Obadiah’s departure, I was putting the boys to bed and Moses mimicked Spencer and referred to me as Mama. I didn’t have the heart to tell him no. I still don’t. Such behavior seems cruel and could cause him irreparable harm. I love Moses very much and I won’t hurt him.’’

  Alice rose from her chair and walked to the doors leading to the garden. ‘‘You should make this situation a matter of prayer, Jasmine. I will do the same. I am sympathetic to your decision and want what is best for all concerned. Please remember you are always welcome in my home—and this is my home, not McKinley’s. I do hope you will give careful thought to what I’ve told you. I believe you must continue to live your life as you always have in spite of the criticism you will surely receive.’’