“That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that he’s taking you north. He’s taking you north. Oh, I am so relieved! I didn’t know how I could protect you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought perhaps his intention was to pretend he’d been looking for you all week and deliver you back to my father. But … no, that can’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve only just realized what will happen when he does. Someone has to hang for Cudgen’s death and it’s easier to blame a black man.” She was ashamed of the words that left her mouth even though she no longer believed them. “And Amira. This is the best way to make sure no one ever hurts her like that again. I’ve been raking my brains trying to think of a way to protect her and now it’s here. This is how it should be. You should be free.” She stood. “We need to do something. We need to get you ready. You’ll need food, water, a travel pack, some blankets …”
“Miss Sammy, now don’t you go getting yourself into trouble over this …”
Samantha didn’t hear him. “He said he’d be back in a week. That means we’ve got less than four days to get you ready.” She nodded to herself. “That should be enough time to gather everything without drawing attention to ourselves. I’ll tell Nessie in the morning. She’ll help. We can do this. I know we can.”
In the corner, Amira sighed in her sleep.
Odus put his gentle hand on Samantha’s face. His skin was cool, yet his touch filled her with warmth. She’d never been touched by a Negro man before. To her complete bewilderment, it felt safe.
“Thank you, Miss Sammy,” he said. “Thank you.”
Chapter 17
“I’m Kate, by the way,” said the woman as Annie and Theo followed her into the house.
The front door led into an open, sunlit room with wooden floors and wainscoted walls. Brightly colored cushions rested on worn, wooden furniture.
One wall was occupied by floor-to-ceiling shelves, which held paperbacks, structured pieces of blue glass and an array of colored photographs. On the middle shelf was a picture of a school class. There were about thirty children, all young enough to be in kindergarten. Kate stood amongst the children, holding a sign that said Clinton Elementary School, 2011.
My old school. Annie squinted, as if the picture was too bright. Then she remembered her own kindergarten glass with Mrs. Richards, and a student teacher called Ms. Jotowski. Could Kate be her?
Kate set Samantha’s letter down on the table and walked to the back wall. Annie and Theo watched as she took down a large, rectangular black and white picture and laid it on the table.
“Have a look,” she said.
Annie and Theo leant over the photograph. Over 100 people stood in rows in front of a large white house. The men were all in old-fashioned suits and cravats; the woman in hoop skirts and ruffled sleeves. At the bottom of the photo in faded brown ink read, Samantha’s debutante ball, March 6, 1861.
Annie let out a shriek. “Oh my God! This is her cotillion! Which one is she?”
“I don’t know for sure,” said Kate, “but I’m guessing she’s this one. She’s in the front, center position on the photo and if you compare her to the rest of the women she’s definitely the best dressed.”
Theo reached into Annie’s backpack and gave the woman his printout from the Beckwith Station Gazette.
“March 7, 1861,” she read. “This past Saturday, Samantha Ashton Weston, only daughter of Sanford and Madeline (nee Jacobs) Weston, was introduced to society. Oh, my heart.”
Annie stared at the picture and the image that gazed back at her. Samantha’s face was soft and round, her dark hair pulled up into a feast of ringlets. Annie wanted to touch her, just to see if Samantha Weston could be felt.
“Do you know anything about the family?” Theo asked.
“Not much. The realtor told me that the original plantation burned down just before the war. Sanford Weston lived here in the gate house until he died. This photo has been here ever since. When I moved in I found some very old wooden crates in the attic, but I haven’t had time to go through them. It would be incredible if there was something in there. Can you come back later?”
Annie and Theo exchanged helpless glances. “We need to get back to Vermont tonight,” he said.
The woman handed him a piece of paper and a pencil. “Here, write down your number and email address. If I find anything of interest I’ll let you know.”
Annie watched Theo’s left hand move across the paper, and then he gave it to the woman. She ripped it in half and wrote down her own details: Kate Jotowski,
It was her.
“Well, this has been just incredible,” she said, leading them out the door. “I really wish I didn’t have to go. Where are you off to now?”
“Back to Vermont,” said Annie.
“Unless,” said Theo, “there’s somewhere you’d recommend? You know, someplace we haven’t thought of that might give us more information?”
Kate thought for a moment. “The old cemetery is just the other side of those woods.” She pointed to the trees in the distance. “You can walk there. Go through the woods until you get to a stream – that’s the property marker. Turn left and follow it for about half a mile. I’d love to know what you find.”
“Great,” said Theo. “And thanks for your help.”
Kate got into her car. Annie and Theo waved. Halfway down the drive, the car stopped.
“Wait a minute,” Kate said and ran back toward the house.
She’s recognized me, Annie thought. She’s going to call the police. A whirlwind of possibilities swirled – she could try and lie her way out of it, deny every accusation, or take Theo’s truck and drive it off into the mountains.
Instead, Kate returned with the photo of the cotillion and handed it to Annie. “You should have this.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Consider it a loan,” Kate smiled. “You can give it back when you find out what happened to Samantha Weston. Something tells me you’re closer to her than you think.” She got back into her car and drove away.
“Well,” said Theo, “care to walk through Samantha’s fields?”
Annie couldn’t speak. She just nodded and let Theo lead her through the coarse, yellow grass.
The sun was high as Annie and Theo walked across the field. When they entered the woods, the change in temperature was so marked that Annie trembled against the chill.
“I can hear the stream,” she said, moving toward the sound of water bubbling over stones, not looking to see how closely Theo ambled behind her. The louder the sound, the faster Annie walked until finally she found herself running toward the water.
Standing over it, she could feel its coolness. She took off her boots and stepped in. The water that swelled around her ankles was biting, as if ice lay in between the rocks and stones, but Annie did not care. She closed her eyes. She heard Theo arrive behind her.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Soaking it all in,” she said. ‘Soaking her in. It’s almost like she should be here, like she is here.”
Theo took off his shoes and waded in beside her. “Good Lordy, this is cold.”
Annie opened her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me here. Sorry I’ve been so up and down.”
Theo sat down on a large, flat rock at the edge of the stream. “It’s okay. I can imagine it’s all a bit emotional, being here.”
“Why would being in Virginia make me emotional?” she snapped.
“Well,” he said, “you’re away from your mom, which as far as I can tell is a big deal.”
Annie sat down next to him. She picked up a flat, oval stone and dried it on her jeans. She could feel Theo’s eyes bearing into her skin.
“It must be lonely, where you are. Not going to school. Don’t you ever just want to, I don’t know, be a part of something?”
“Every day,” said Annie, putting the stone in her pocket.
Theo m
oved closer.
“Annie,” he said, pulling her chin towards him. “You can trust me.”
It would have been so easy to kiss him. The very thought made her want to melt into the water and rush away with the stream. Maybe that’s not what he wanted, maybe this was just a gesture. But she had to stop this now. Being so close to home, reading Sanchez’s emails, worrying that Kate had recognized her – it brought her back to reality. There was no point getting closer to Theo, or to anyone.
She stood abruptly and almost fell over. “I can’t,” she said, stepping out of the stream and wiping her feet with her hands. “I’m sorry, Theo.” She slid her damp feet into her boots and walked briskly towards the cemetery, not knowing if Theo would follow and too scared to turn around and find out.
The wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to the cemetery creaked when Annie pushed them open. Large, old trees loomed so high they seemed to be competing with the sun. Annie walked past moss-covered graves that looked as if they would soon become one with the grass on which they sat. Many engravings had been worn by years of wind and weather. She heard the gates creak behind her; Theo had arrived. Would he even speak to her now? She saw him out of the corner of her eye, meandering through the cemetery and reading the stones as he passed. Annie stopped in front of a grave for a baby girl who had died on the same day she was born and wanted to cry at all this little girl never had the chance to become.
“I found it!” Theo shouted.
Annie saw him standing by a large, stone monument.
“Look,” he said.
Annie ran to his side and read the engraved lettering.
WESTON
Here lies
Sanford Emmanuel Weston
b. August 11, 1813
d. January 8, 1910
His devoted wife
Madeline Jacobs
b. October 30, 1820
d. June 11, 1861
and their cherished daughter
Georgia May
b. February 28, 1839
d. May 11, 1856
“Mrs. Weston died not long after Fort Sumter,” said Theo. “Kate mentioned that Mont Verity burned down just before the Civil War started. I hope they’re not related.”
There was nothing in Theo’s tone to suggest that he was angry with her. Somehow, that made Annie even more irritated.
“Where is she? Where’s Samantha? Why isn’t she here?”
“Well, maybe she never made it back. She did say in the letter that she was never coming back. Or maybe she wasn’t buried with her family.” Theo’s voice broke. “Maybe she got married and is buried with her husband.”
“Theo, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
Annie took his hand, almost without realizing. “Are you sure?”
“It’s just … this is my first time out of Vermont since my mother left. It feels weird. Like she could be around every corner, because she could be anywhere. She could have been eating breakfast at the diner or sitting at a desk in the library. Even walking around here I half expect to come across her grave.”
“I’m sorry, Theo.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, but I’m sorry for being so wrapped up in my own stuff that I haven’t noticed you’re not finding this easy either.”
“Oh well,” he said, shrugging away her hand. “Let’s have a look around and see if we find any Samanthas.”
He walked away, his head bowed as he read the gravestones. Annie stood where he left her, unsure of where to go.
“Over here,” Theo shouted, pointing to a small house made of stone slabs. “It’s the Fabres!” Annie ran over.
FABRE
Major Louis Fabre
b. March 6, 1810
d. April 12, 1861
Beloved wife
Narcescsa Millet
b. December 20, 1818
d. July 12, 1899
Noble son
Evans Royal
b. May 16, 1833
d. May 10, 1901
His devoted wife
Olivia Bradford
b. February 25, 1848
d. November 12, 1885
Theo pulled the rubbing out of Annie’s bag and studied it. “Every time we find something new I just get more confused.”
“What do you mean?”
“Samantha didn’t marry Evans Royal Fabre. And look. The slave uprising was on April 12, 1861. Fort Sumter was April 12, 1861. And now we know that’s also the day that Elijah Fabre’s father died. The worst part is that we know there’s no Beckwith Station Gazette copy to tell us how and why he died.”
“Elijah Fabre’s not here,” said Annie.
Theo scanned the ground. “Yes, he is,” he said, leaning down over a tall, thin gravestone.
Elijah Fabre
Brought into this life
October 1, 1843
And tragically taken from it
On March 13, 1861
Justice not gained in life
Is assured in the sweet hereafter
“Elijah Fabre died in March, 1861?” said Theo. “And what do they mean by ‘tragically’?”
Annie reached into her backpack and checked the date of Samantha’s debutante ball.
“He died exactly a week after the cotillion. Look – the ball was on March 6 and he died on the 13th.”
Theo checked the lists of letters and numbers. “If he died on March 13, then he can’t be the one who made the EF markings in the Bible, and he can’t be the one Samantha said she was in love with.”
Annie pulled the knife out of her boot and looked at Elijah Fabre’s name engraved into the blade.
“If he’s not EF,” said Theo, “then how did his knife get all the way up to Vermont?”
“Maybe he gave it to Samantha before he died. Maybe Royal is EF, and he was given it as a keepsake. I don’t know.”
“But if Royal was EF then why didn’t he and Samantha get married?”
Annie studied the gravestone. “I don’t get what ‘tragically’ means. Was he in an accident or something?”
“I don’t know.” Theo clapped his hands over his face. “We’re idiots!”
“What?”
“We didn’t look him up when we were at the library. Maybe there’s an article on him that we completely missed.”
He grabbed her hand and together, they ran back to his truck.
Theo sped back to the library and tore into the parking lot.
“Afternoon,” said Theo as he pulled Annie past the library desk. The blonde was no longer there.
Theo rushed straight to the computer with the Beckwith Station Gazette files and didn’t even bother sitting down. He just leaned over and typed: Elijah Fabre, January 1861 – March 1861.
One result came up. Theo clicked it open. He read the headline and sank into the chair behind him. “Whoa,” he said.
“Oh my God,” said Annie.
They both sat silenced by the words before them.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me neither.”
They stared, reading and re-reading what was in front them, unsure whether or not to believe it. After several minutes, Theo leaned over and hit print. He and Annie watched as the words on the screen appeared as ink on paper.
Theo picked it up and read it one last time.
“Well, now we know what happened to Elijah Fabre.”
“Yes,” said Annie, blinking in disbelief. “Now we know.”
Chapter 18
“Miss Sammy,” said Nessie, “you gots to calm down.”
It was Wednesday morning, a week after Samantha’s cotillion, and the sun shone down from a cloudless sky. She was due to meet Eli in the woods that night and all she’d collected for Odus and Amira lay on her bed: two blankets, a canteen, an extra dress for Amira, bandages, hard tack and dried beef.
“It’s not enough,” she said. “They won’t even get halfway to the Potomac with this little food.”
“Too mu
ch, and poor Odus’ll struggle to carry it. Don’t you worry, what I hear about this whole Underground Railroad is that they’ll be taken care of ev’ry time they’re taken in.”
“Go find Oma. Tell her to go to the kitchen and get at least four biscuits. I can smell them from here.”
“Are you sure, Miss Sammy?”
“Yes. Now please go.”
The past week had flown by. The days were spent smuggling food into the eaves while feigning interest in the wedding preparations. The nights passed with Amira asleep on Samantha’s bed while she and Odus huddled by the window as she taught him how to read. He’d learned so much and could now read three-letter words. This was one of the many reasons she would be sorry to see him go. She had so much more to teach him.
She hardly thought of Eli. Only as the day to meet him arrived and she prepared to say goodbye to Odus and Amira did the questions come. When he was done taking Odus and Amira north, how soon would he come back? Were there other slaves he intended to free? Should they put their wedding plans on hold? Should they even get married at all? Surely they would achieve more if she married Royal and had two plantations under her control? But was this even his plan? Was freeing Odus and Amira just a one-time effort? Did he still want to marry her and live at Mont Verity?
She would just have to wait and find out.
Nessie returned to find Samantha still standing over all she’d gathered. She began rubbing Samantha’s back, just as she had done when Samantha was a colicky baby refusing to go to sleep. “Miss Sammy, you done enough.”
“What if they don’t make it, Nessie? It’ll be all my fault.”
“Miss Sammy, you already done more than I ever thought you could do. God bless you.”
Samantha began putting the rations into a canvas sack. There was a knock at the door. Nessie cracked it open.
“I gots six biscuits,” she heard Oma say.
“Did anyone see you?” Nessie asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well done, Oma,” said Samantha. “Here – you keep one.”
“Thanks, Miss Sammy,” she said, putting it into the pocket of her apron.
Once Nessie had closed the door Samantha went into the wardrobe. A blast of heat from the eaves hit her as soon as she opened the hatch. Amira lay feebly slumped against the wall, her face ashen and dull. Odus fanned her with two of Samantha’s fans. Samantha crawled through the hole and looked around the darkened space.
Underground Page 15
