Second Chance Love

by Shannon Farrington

  They continued with their tasks. He gathered his notes. She wore down her charcoal sticks. Today the work brought little peace. Elizabeth felt the same sense of foreboding she had when she first noticed the federal soldiers, only now it was much worse. For some reason she could not get Elijah and Elisha out of her mind. A chill ran down her spine when at one point David turned to her and said, “You may think me mad, but I have this sudden feeling that we need to stop what we are doing and visit the dry goods store.”

  She immediately closed her sketchbook. “I don’t think you mad. I have been thinking the same.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. It’s almost as if I feel something is about to happen.” She wasn’t exactly certain her earlier prayer had anything to do with this, but she told him about it, anyway.

  “You prayed for me?” he asked.

  “Yes, and for Elijah and Elisha.”

  “That’s all the convincing I need,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  They soon reached Light Street. Much to their surprise, Sam and Julia were at the dry goods counter. Wallace, the merchant, did not look pleased to see them.

  “I have told you a hundred times before,” he said, “they are my property. I will not hand them over to you, no matter what you offer!”

  The sharp tone and the man’s fierce expression made Elizabeth instinctively reach for David’s arm. As they approached the counter, their friends cast them only a sparing glance, as if they were little more than strangers. David said nothing to them, either. Julia looked extremely pale and worried as her husband resumed his previous conversation.

  “But why not take the certain money I have to offer you?” Sam asked Wallace. “If the vote passes, you will be forced to free them, and it’s possible you could get nothing in the way of compensation then.”

  The merchant sneered. “You abolitionists dream of that, don’t you?” He then turned his anger toward David. “And you, coming in here with that accent of yours. You don’t think I know where you are from? Have you Boston boys forgotten what we do to those who won’t mind their own business?”

  Elizabeth’s skin prickled, and for a moment she feared the man had a pistol behind his counter and was about to make use of it. David must have thought the same. He immediately stepped in front of her. He’d promised her previously that he would allow no harm to come to her. She hoped he would not have to make good on that promise.

  “I’m a reporter for the Free American,” David quickly said, “and I should be very interested in hearing your story.”

  Wallace looked taken aback for a second or two, but when David pulled out his press card, the man then pointed at Sam and Julia. “The story is this high and mighty fella is trying to tell me what to do with my slaves. He thinks I should hand them over to him.”

  David opened his journal. Elizabeth still stood behind him, but she had positioned herself so that she could see what was happening. He scribbled down a few particulars, then turned toward her. “Forgive me,” he said. “This is...my assistant. Would you like for her to sketch your portrait?”

  He was appealing to Wallace’s pride, and it worked. He quickly consented, eager to have his face make the morning edition.

  “See to the man, then,” David told her. “Only him.”

  Elizabeth quickly obliged. She knew full well why he was foregoing Sam and Julia’s likeness. It was the same reason he had introduced her as a nameless assistant. He was trying to protect each of them.

  David questioned Wallace, asking him everything, from how much he’d originally paid to purchase his slaves, to what his philosophy was on keeping them. Elizabeth winced when the merchant said the children were cursed by God, fit for nothing but servitude. Anger had her gripping her pencil so tightly she feared it would snap in two.

  David took extra time writing down the man’s quote, then asked, “And where are your slaves at present? Are they here?”

  “No. They’re out on delivery. They won’t be back for another hour.”

  “I see.” He then turned to Sam. David asked him only a few questions, most importantly why he so desperately wished to purchase the boys.

  “I want to ransom them,” Sam said.

  “Why?” David asked, although Elizabeth knew he was fully aware of the reason.

  “Because Christ died to free us from the curse of sin and death,” Sam said. “He cares for all of us, no matter what the color of our skin.”

  Wallace simply sneered. David scribbled down the quote and thanked each party for their time. Sam and Julia turned to go, but not without one last plea for the children. The merchant refused. To quell his anger, David mentioned when the man could likely expect to see his portrait in the newspaper. Both reporter and sketch artist then stepped outside.

  “I apologize for treating you rudely,” David said.

  “You were not rude. I appreciated the fact that you tried to shield me from danger. I don’t know how you managed to keep your presence of mind in all of that. I suppose, though, that is your gift.”

  “My gift?”

  “For getting the story.”

  “Not that I really know what to do with it,” he said. “I certainly don’t want to print any of Wallace’s quotes. They sicken me. I only took them down because I felt like I was supposed to keep him talking, that I was supposed to keep Sam and his wife there, as well.”

  “Perhaps you or they said something that will make the man reconsider his position.”

  His shoulders fell with a sigh. “I hope so. As much as I want to see Elijah and Elisha free, there is another matter at stake here.”

  Elizabeth guessed his thoughts. “The matter of Wallace himself.”

  David nodded. He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his dark wavy hair. For some strange reason, Elizabeth wanted to run hers through it, too.

  “Sometimes I think I would have made a better reporter if I hadn’t been a preacher’s son,” he said.

  “You mean if you didn’t care so much?”

  He nodded again.

  “But your faith is what makes you different. That’s what made you a good steward. That’s what makes you a good reporter now. You’re not just out for a story. You are a man of integrity, of honor.”

  He rubbed his whiskers and offered her a bashful smile, but the discouragement in his eyes still lingered. “You paint much too bright a picture of me,” he said.

  But Elizabeth knew what she said was true. There was a quiet strength in David Wainwright. More than merely physical, it enveloped every part of his character. His life was a reflection of Christ, and in it she saw continued proof that, despite the darkness surrounding them, God did still govern the affairs of men.

  * * *

  David stewed over the incident at the dry goods store for the rest of the afternoon. Though he managed to pull together a balanced piece, he still wasn’t all that eager to see it in print. He handed it off to Peter, however, and continued on with the rest of his work. The next morning the article had barely hit the street corners when Elijah and Elisha’s master came storming into the office. He immediately demanded to see David.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “Wrong?” Wallace exclaimed. The merchant then rattled off a sting of curses directed at Sam Ward. At her desk, Elizabeth cringed. David quickly reminded the man that a lady was present. Peter also lumbered over with a warning.

  “Sir, I suggest you gain control of yourself.”

  “Control? I have news for you!”

  “I don’t care what news you have,” Peter said. “If you don’t gain control, I’ll have one of my men toss you out on your ear.”

  As if for proof Russell and Detwiler rose from their chairs, their arms crossed. Unwilling to tangle with men half his age, and surely wanting whatever this latest ch
apter of his story was to be told, Wallace backed down, slightly. “I came to tell you he took them!”

  “Who took whom?” David asked.

  Wallace was back to blaming Sam Ward, but with Russell and Detwiler still standing guard, at least his language was a little less colorful.

  “He took my slaves!”

  David’s heart began to pound. Casting a quick glance in Elizabeth’s direction, he knew hers was, as well. Her bodice was rising and falling with quick breaths.

  “Tell me exactly what happened,” he said, and he offered the angry merchant a seat.

  “I don’t know, exactly. I don’t know how he did it, but he stole them boys right off the street!”

  “What?” David had suspected Sam may be involved with the Underground Railroad, but he didn’t think he’d be bold enough to snatch Elijah and Elisha in broad daylight, especially when Wallace knew him and his family. What a risk he has taken!

  The merchant would have no recourse with the US Army, for they had stopped returning runaway slaves some time ago, and the local police would be too busy with other matters, yet still David worried. A man like this will not relent. He will find someone else to handle the situation, someone who will exact revenge on Sam, maybe even his wife and child. That’s probably why he’s come to me now. He wants to generate publicity.

  David’s muscles tightened, but he kept his composure and listened as Wallace continued. “I looked for them all over, but they ain’t anywhere to be found. Just after you left yesterday, a boy showed up at my store and handed me this.”

  He pulled out a wad of wrinkled greenbacks. It looked to be more than enough to ransom a pair of slave children. Just to be certain, David asked if it was.

  “It’s more than what I paid for them,” he said. “Which is how I know it was him.”

  That doesn’t necessarily prove anything. “You say a boy delivered the money?”

  Wallace nodded.

  “What did he look like?”

  As the merchant went on to describe the mysterious courier, David discovered Wallace really meant a Negro man had come to his shop. He asked bluntly for clarification’s sake and to make a point of his own. “You mean a gentleman came into your shop and gave you the money?”

  Wallace huffed. “He weren’t no gentleman. Might have been a house servant. Educated, probably. Those abolitionists do that, you know.”

  The description he gave was as vague as his facts surrounding the delivery. “Did this person say the money was in payment for the children?” David asked.

  “No. He just laid it on the counter.”

  “Then you didn’t actually speak to him?”

  “I was busy with a customer.”

  Your mistake, David thought. “What time did you say the slave children went missing?”

  “Yesterday between three and four o’clock. They made a delivery on Charles Street, but they never made it to the one on Hanover. That’s when he must have snatched them.”

  David’s memory sparked. “Between three and four o’clock?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re certain of that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was interviewing you at that time,” David reminded him. “The man you’re accusing was with us. So was his wife. They couldn’t have snatched those boys. They were standing in your store.”

  Stunned, Wallace only blinked.

  All this time Elizabeth had been busy—head down, pencil in hand, looking completely absorbed in the task before her. But David knew she had been listening in on every word. Both of them had felt the need to visit the merchant yesterday. David didn’t know where Elijah and Elisha were at that moment, but he recognized the hand of Providence when he saw it. His and Elizabeth’s presence at the store provided their friends an alibi. The news article and sketch were evidence on their behalf.

  Wallace realized it, as well, and was now completely frustrated. “What am I to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know that there is much you can do,” David said. “You don’t have any idea who actually took them or even if anyone did.”

  “Are you suggesting they ran off on their own?”

  “I’m saying you have no way of knowing what really happened. Look, if it was some abolitionist, you’ve been paid a fair price—”

  “You saying I should leave well enough alone?” The man was fuming.

  “I’m saying it’s very possible that slavery is about to be outlawed. You have at least been compensated.”

  But Wallace was demanding further satisfaction, and it was clear he would take it any way he could get it. He pointed his finger at David. “I want you to write about this! I want you to tell everyone what I told you.”

  “I’ll report on the children’s disappearance,” he promised, “but I can’t go accusing a man by name of being involved in it when we don’t have any proof he has done anything.”

  “I see,” Wallace quipped, eyes narrowing. “So I was right about you. You are one of those haughty abolitionists.”

  “Mr. Wallace,” David firmly insisted, “I am a journalist. I stick to the facts. I am committed to telling all sides of a story.”

  “And printing it?”

  Over that, of course David had no control. Having never been out of earshot, his editor again stepped forward. “I decide what gets printed, Mr. Wallace, but as Mr. Wainwright has already made perfectly clear, this newspaper is committed to telling all sides of this issue, including which way the people of Maryland vote.”

  Wallace stood, nearly overturning his chair. “The people of this state better have the sense to keep things as they are! A pox upon us if the abolitionists have their way!” He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

  When he had gone, the staff slowly returned to their desks. Elizabeth looked pale and worried. “Where do you think Elijah and Elisha have gone?” she asked. “Do you think someone actually snatched them?”

  “I don’t know,” David said, “but you can be certain I am going to do my best to find out.”

  The following day the report of Wallace’s missing slaves was printed in the paper along with the results of the vote. 31,593 for to 19,524 against. Slavery would be outlawed in Maryland, just as soon as a new state constitution could be written and approved.

  Chapter Eleven

  David’s celebration over the proposed new state constitution was tempered by several things. One concern was just what methods would actually be used to free the remaining slaves. Also preying on his mind was the whereabouts of Elijah and Elisha.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what their former master might now do. Although Wallace could not deny Sam Ward’s presence in his store at the time of the boys’ disappearance, David still smelled trouble brewing and he felt responsible.

  After all, it was he who had spoken to Sam Ward in the first place, and had urged Elijah and Elisha’s rescue. Had Sam arranged some plot—deliberately visiting the dry goods store at that time in hopes of keeping himself and his family in the clear—or was it possible he knew nothing at all? David wasn’t sure. On Sunday morning before he and Elizabeth left church, he pulled Sam aside.

  “I already know,” Sam said, even before David could tell him about Wallace’s appearance at the paper.

  “You do?”

  “Wallace told me himself.”

  “How?” David asked. “Did he pay you a visit?”

  “No. I went back to see him yesterday. I offered once more to ransom the boys, hoping he’d take my money rather than bank on the state compensating him.”

  “Did he tell you he had already been compensated?”

  “He did. He was adamant that it was I who had sent the money.”

  David couldn’t help but wonder that himself. “Did you?” he asked.


  “I assure you, I did not. Although I can’t say I haven’t thought about such a scenario.” A hint of a grin showed on the man’s face, one David suspected was more than just an admission of an active imagination.

  He knows something. He is involved in this in some way after all. When David had made certain no one else was in earshot, he asked Sam point-blank, “Where are they?”

  Surprised, the man blinked, but he offered nothing more.

  “Don’t give me the silent treatment,” David said. “I’m asking this strictly unofficially. You know something. I know you do. Perhaps by way of a friend of a friend?”

  “Honestly?” Sam said. “I don’t know where they are at this point.”

  “At this point?”

  The grin emerged again but only for a second, then it was gone. “All I’ll say is pray. Pray that they reach safety.”

  “And where do you assume they will be safe?”

  Sam didn’t answer that. Instead he dangled another piece of information before the hungry reporter. “It broke Julia’s heart not to be able to say goodbye, but she rejoices in the fact their future is now much more hopeful.”

  More hopeful? David wasn’t about to let this go. He knew the story would never make it into print, but he had to satisfy his own curiosity. And Elizabeth will want to know, as well. “What makes you so certain?”

  Sam shook his head, smiled mischievously, and turned to go.

  “Wait,” David said. “You can’t give me any details, fair enough, but may I offer you a word of advice?”

  The man made no objection.

  “Watch your back. Slavery may be on its way out, but there are still plenty of people who won’t take kindly to an abolitionist’s intervention, no matter how inconsequential it may be.”

  “Particularly Wallace?”

  “Exactly. I don’t think it wise for your paths to cross again. You don’t want to go tweaking his nose any further.”