“She kissed you.”
“I didn’t return her kiss. I didn’t even know she was coming to our church today. She worships at Mother’s church. I think Francine and Mother came up with a plan to make you upset.” He touched her face.
She sensed the aftermath of her tears had dried onto her skin, and she probably looked frightful.
“Looks like they succeeded…making you upset. I hate seeing you cry, Ruth.”
This whole conversation made no sense. “Why would your ma and Francine want to upset me?”
He reached for her hand, and this time he took it. He cradled it in his large palm and kissed each of her fingers. “I like you, Ruth. When I made supper for you, I did that because I wanted to ask if I could court you. I never got around to asking because the escaped slaves arrived. Then Mother was in one of her moods. I told her I wanted to court you, and she got upset.” He paused and took a deep breath.
Joseph looked so tired and tormented. The circles beneath his eyes and the droop to his comely lips made her realize just how many troubles he carried on his broad shoulders.
“Mother mentioned Francine would be a perfect mate for me. I got mad. I think Mother wanted to make me change my mind about Francine. That’s why I believe she sent Francine to the church today, just to make you jealous.”
Goodness, he really wanted to court her? In spite of his mother’s objections and his social standing, he still wanted to court her, a former slave? But could she really let Joseph court her? She liked him too, but she didn’t know if she wanted to have anybody court her now, or ever. “Joseph, I like you too.”
He grinned. “I’m glad to hear that, Ruth.”
“But remember what I told you when we shared supper?”
“You feel called to help people escape slavery. You don’t want to be attached to anybody. You were in love with Thomas, and you still think about him.”
Well, that was a blessing. He was a man who listened. He’d heard all she’d revealed to him that day. She considered herself to be a strong, courageous woman, a woman who was destined to be alone, doing good for others. But she couldn’t deny the feelings she’d developed for Joseph Adams over the last few weeks. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Would you like some time to think about it?”
She nodded. She figured she’d be spending the next few days praying, hoping the Lord would see fit to show her what to do.
The soft classical music drifted from the closed front door of Joseph’s home. If memory served him correctly, it sounded like Mozart. He frowned as he slowly opened the door. He softly closed it and placed the antislavery notices he’d recently picked up from the printers on the hallway table. He then quietly followed the sound of the music. He spotted Mother in the sitting room, her back toward him, playing a flute. She finished playing the classical song.
She sniffed. “I didn’t realize you’d be home so soon.” She placed the flute onto a nearby table and turned toward him. Her face was wet, but she no longer seemed angry. She just seemed sad, and her shoulders drooped. Looked like she was tired too.
He slowly approached her. His mind stirred with so many questions. Confusion filled his soul as he dropped onto a chair beside her. He offered her his handkerchief. “Mother? You can play the flute?” In his entire life, he’d never known her to play anything. He didn’t even realize she enjoyed music.
She slowly nodded, wiping her face. “I used to play a long time ago. After I married your father and became involved with the bakery, and had you…time just got away from me, I guess.”
Well, that didn’t explain much. Why would getting married and having a baby make her want to stop playing the flute? He needed to understand what was going on with her. “Why are you playing now?”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m just so sad about you not taking a liking to Francine. Everything I’ve been working so hard for is just ruined. Playing used to help me escape from my problems. Decided to try it again now, I guess.”
“Why do you say everything is ruined? I don’t understand.”
“Son, when I married your father…well, we wanted to start a family.”
He nodded. He still had tons of questions he wanted to ask her but sensed he needed to let her open up to him when she was ready.
“You’re not my firstborn. I had two other children before I had you.”
His heart stilled. “What?”
“You heard me. I had two children before you. Both of them died when they were infants. Then I had you. You were sick as a baby but you survived. Son, I’ve always been so proud of you. You’re charming, good-looking, compassionate, sometimes too compassionate. Before your father died, I promised him I’d help you find the perfect wife. Both of us felt Francine would be a perfect match.”
“Mother, I’ve explained—”
She touched his hand. “I know. I’ve just been so focused on doing what I and your father felt was right for you that I haven’t been paying attention to how my actions have affected you. Son, I just didn’t want to further alienate you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Mother, you will never lose me. I will always love you and be your son.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
She nodded. “I have to be honest with you. I schemed with Francine. I agreed to her meeting you at the church and kissing you. You’re so smart you probably figured that out on your own.”
He nodded, still holding her hand. “Yes. Mother, you hurt Ruth. I like her. I honestly don’t know if she’ll agree to court me, but even if she doesn’t, I know that there’s no future between me and Francine. I can’t be with a woman I can’t trust.”
“I’m sorry, Son. I really am. I now realize I took things too far, and for that I’m truly sorry.”
He nodded. “I forgive you.” A miracle had just occurred. He couldn’t believe that Mother had actually admitted she’d been wrong. Well, he needed to tell her something that might make her feel better. “I like hearing you play. You should do it more often.”
She actually smiled. He then abandoned his seat and made a pot of coffee. He spent the entire evening talking to his mother, asking her questions, hoping that he could help erase the rift that had grown between them.
Ruth lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. It’d been two days since Joseph’s question about courting her. A loud knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”
Miss Tilley came into the room. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Have you been all right?”
Miss Tilley seemed to be able to know when something was bothering her. She may as well be truthful. “No.”
“Your mind has been wandering the last couple of days during our school lessons.” The older woman pulled her chair up to the bed and took a seat. She patted Ruth’s leg. “You’ve made excellent progress on your lessons. Your speech has improved.”
“Thank you, Miss Tilley.” She’d even started reading some of the simple children’s nursery rhyme books. She’d been working hard on learning her letters, and she figured in due time, Mrs. Adams might let her wait on the customers in the bakery. The woman barely paid her any attention. She often wondered if Mrs. Adams noticed her speech had improved since she’d been hired to work in the bakery.
Miss Tilley cleared her throat. “I worked with Joseph this evening.”
“You did?” This was surprising. She didn’t realize Miss Tilley would be helping Joseph.
“Yes. I helped him to hang some antislavery notices. We’re trying to get some more people to come to our next abolitionist meeting. We’re expecting some more runaways in a couple of weeks.”
She’d known Joseph was going to be hanging notices, but she didn’t realize he’d be doing that this evening. Normally, she would have assisted him with the task, but she’d seen him all day at the bakery. She needed some time away from him to think about his offer of courtship.
“How are things going at the bakery
?”
“I’s…I’ve been working hard like usual.”
“Are you getting along with Mrs. Adams?”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “She don’t…doesn’t talk to me, Miss Tilley. She doesn’t look at me. Only reason I’m still there is because of my bread. The profits are good, so she tolerates me.”
“How about Joseph? He was mighty upset about what happened last Sunday with Francine. He told me you two talked at the park.”
“Yes, we talked.” She then told Miss Tilley about Joseph wanting to court her. “I don’t know if I should let him court me. I wonder if I’d be happier by myself.”
“Have you prayed about it?”
“Yes, a lot.”
“What do you feel in here?” Miss Tilley touched her chest. “In your heart?”
“I like Joseph. It made me mad when Francine kissed him. I hated seeing her around him when we were passing out the pamphlets earlier this month.”
“Are you still sad about Thomas?”
“Not as much since I’ve started working in the bakery. I still dream about him, think about him.”
Miss Tilley nodded. “Grief can be like that sometimes. When my pa died, it was awful. Took me a while to get used to his being gone. I still think about him a lot.”
Ruth nodded. “Sorry about your pa.”
She waved her hand. “It happened a long time ago. Now, tell me how you feel about Joseph.”
“I like Joseph. He’s kind, honest, and trusting. I like how he helps people.”
“Are you referring to his helping with the abolitionist movement?”
“Yes, but I’m also talking about his helping people in the city. He feeds homeless people and tells them about the Bible. He really cares, and seeing him care for folks like that, feeding them, wanting to nourish their souls”—she swallowed and continued to gather her thoughts—“makes me feel happy in here.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “My heart gets glad just seeing him minister. Plus, he’s handsome. I could sit and look at him all day.”
Miss Tilley grinned. “I think you know what you need to do, Ruth.”
She frowned. “I do?”
“What would Thomas want you to do? Do you think he’d want you to be alone for the rest of your life?”
She’d never thought of it like that. She knew Thomas would want her to be happy.
“Ruth, from hearing you speak, you want to spend time with Joseph and get to know him better, but you are scared of being hurt again.” She took Ruth’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “Don’t be afraid to love again. The Lord wants you to be happy, and if being with Joseph brings you happiness, then you should let him court you.” Miss Tilley hugged her then left the room and closed the door behind her.
Joseph pulled out a chair for Ruth. They’d just closed the bakery, and Mother had already gone home. Mother was still strangely silent during the workday, clearly unsettled about his affections for Ruth. She still didn’t speak to Ruth, but at least she no longer glared at her like she used to. Ever since she’d told him about her deceased children and her aspirations for him as her only living child, it was like a barrier had been removed from between them. For the last couple of nights, they’d shared coffee and had a decent conversation. He was finding things out about his mother he’d never known, and he’d encouraged her to consider playing the flute as worship to God.
He eyed Ruth as she sat in her seat. Earlier, she’d requested to speak with him after closing, and he’d gladly agreed. Lord, please let Ruth agree to my courtship.
She removed her bonnet and he admired the bunch of curls gathered on her head. He sat beside her as she pulled her dinner pail from the floor. She reached into the pail and removed a small wrapped parcel. “This is for you.” Her dainty hands shook as she gave him the package. She looked nervous. Well, he was nervous too.
He studied the package before untying the knotted twine. Two heart-shaped sugar cookies were nestled within the folds of paper. “You baked these for me?”
She nodded. “I’s…I like you, Joseph. I baked these for you to let you know that my answer is yes. I want you to court me.”
He grinned and pulled Ruth into his arms. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. He took her soft, dainty hand and squeezed her fingers. He bit into the thin confection, and the taste of sugar and vanilla exploded in his mouth with delicate sweetness. He offered the cookie to Ruth and she took a small bite.
He then leaned toward her and kissed her beautiful lips.
Epilogue
One year later…
Joseph strolled to the podium, holding his Bible. He relished his role as pastor of his church. He’d been the pastor for almost a year, and he was still amazed he’d been chosen to replace Cyrus Brown. He scanned the audience, his eyes resting on Ruth. She sat in the front seat, her hands resting on her large pregnant stomach. Mother sat right beside her. It had been a rocky road getting the two of them to get along.
After he’d asked Ruth for courtship, they’d spent time together for a month before Cyrus Brown married them. Mother had attended their wedding, and she openly admitted to him beforehand that it was still hard for her to accept Ruth into their lives, but she was willing to try. When he’d started his pastorship, Mother and Ruth began to run the bakery together. Ruth started talking to Mother about more improvements in the bakery. She’d suggested having a cookie day, a day when the bakery sold cookies in addition to their breads and pastries.
Their profits had increased even more, and Mother had finally started to respect Ruth. Now, they ran the bakery together, and Mother had finally started coming to their church. She’d even played her flute for the congregation a few times and had received a lot of compliments about her talent. They’d also hired a new assistant for the bakery once he’d become pastor.
He was still active in the abolitionist movement and Ruth continued to assist in the duties. She continued dispensing dried herbs and encouragement to the runaways, and she thrived in her role as a supporter of the Underground Railroad. He scanned the audience before again focusing on Ruth.
“I love you.” She silently mouthed the words.
He often daydreamed of what life would be like once their baby was born. He knew Mother would be pleased to have a grandchild on whom to dote.
“I love you too,” he mouthed. His beautiful wife then grinned at him, and he returned her smile before he began his sermon.
Cecelia Dowdy is a world traveler who has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. When she first read Christian fiction, she felt called to write for the genre. She loves to read, write, and bake desserts in her spare time. She also loves spending time with her husband and toddler son. Currently she resides with her family in Maryland.
A Place of Refuge
by Patty Smith Hall
Chapter 1
Abbeville, South Carolina
1857
She was running out of time.
Jorgine Emerson stared out at the lush green fields, the white boles of cotton swaying in time with the horses’ hooves. A bumper crop this year for certain. They’d need to harvest their crop and get it to market before the price plummeted. She’d need every spare penny to keep Piney Brooke up and running for another year.
Her home was the only thing she had left on this earth that was hers.
“Really, Jorgine. You’re not listening to a word I say.”
She took one last look at the ripening field and then turned toward the young woman sitting across from her in the carriage. Millie Shephard had been a friend since the cradle, a fact Mrs. Shephard loved to bring up whenever there was someone close by to impress. The town of Abbeville had been built around the Emerson family, the closest thing to royalty in this part of the state. Thank heavens, Millie was kindness itself without any of her mama’s ambitious social climbing.
Jorgine took a deep breath of humid air and sighed. “I’m sorry. So why are we going to the Wallaces’ garden party? I didn’t think
you knew them that well.”
“I don’t. I mean, we’ve exchanged pleasantries.” Millie’s gaze dipped to her clenched hands in her lap. “Mama just says it’s a good place to start.”
Dear heavens, what was that woman up to now? “A good place to start what?”
Her friend’s cheeks turned pink. “Mama feels that it’s time I started looking for a husband.”
Jorgine shook her head. “We’ve talked about possible suitors, but you’ve never mentioned anything about a beau.” When Millie didn’t answer right way, she leaned forward and grasped her friend’s hand.
“Because I don’t have one.” Millie’s green eyes were somber. “Business at the mill hasn’t improved since Papa hired freed Negroes and paid them a living wage.” She swallowed. “People would rather travel to Spartanburg or Columbia for their lumber rather than buy anything from Papa right now.”
“I’m sure folks will get tired of that long trip into town and give their business back to your father. It just takes some time.”
“I don’t have time, Jorgine.” She pulled a white handkerchief from her wrist and sniffed. “Mama fears if I don’t make a good marriage now, we might not survive the backlash. I must get married, and to someone with enough money to help my family see this through.”
“Oh, Millie. I had no idea things were that bad. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Her friend gave her a watery smile. “Help me find a rich husband? Maybe someone like your Win?”
Your Win. Jorgine’s throat tightened at the mention of her fiancé. Winfield Wakefield of the Charleston Wakefields had been handpicked to be her husband by her uncle and guardian, Richard Emerson. Not that Jorgine had been given any choice. Why Papa had asked Uncle Richard to be her guardian when she was perfectly capable of running Piney Brooke on her own was beyond comprehension. Now nearly everything Papa had possessed, including the slaves and the shipping business, belonged to Uncle Richard. Everything but Piney Brooke.
The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War Page 28
