The Seeker

by Ann H. Gabhart

  Now Charlotte tried to push aside the familiar distaste of being near Perkins as she waited for him to tell her what he wanted. The man had aged in the months since she’d seen him. Deep lines creased his weather-beaten face, and unruly gray hairs sprang up from heavy eyebrows that almost met over his narrowed eyes as he frowned first at Charlotte and then the two Shaker sisters with her.

  “Why are you here, Perkins?” Charlotte asked. She saw no reason for the niceties of a polite greeting.

  “I could ask you the same.” He kept eyeing her much too boldly.

  “That’s hardly your concern.” She was surprised to hear a little of the old Grayson Charlotte’s commanding tone. When Sister Martha touched her arm to remind her to be kind, Charlotte softened her voice before she went on. “But since you are here, I assume there is a reason you came to speak to me. Is something wrong with Father?”

  “No, no, not so far as I know. He’s still in Frankfort. Trying to legislate the war out of Kentucky.”

  “That’s good to know,” Charlotte said, then waited for him to explain why he was there, but he seemed dumbstruck by her Shaker dress.

  Sister Altha lost patience. She leveled her severest look on him and spoke briskly. “You asked to see our sister, Mr. Perkins. A request we granted since you claimed it to be a matter of some importance. So come forth with whatever it is you want. We do not wish to be kept from our duties overlong.”

  Perkins glanced toward Sister Altha, but didn’t answer her. Instead he looked back at Charlotte. “It’d be better if they weren’t in here.”

  “Nay, it is necessary for us to be here,” Sister Martha said quietly before Sister Altha or Charlotte could speak.

  He shifted uneasily on his feet and twisted his hat again. “All right. I’ll just be out with it. Though the mistress will fire me without thinking twice if she finds out I came here. But the wife said I had to. That I couldn’t sell Tish down the river without trying to stop it.”

  Charlotte felt like she’d just been punched in the stomach. She could barely get out the words. “Sell Aunt Tish? You can’t do that.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell your father’s wife, but she’s done hired this fancy cook from up north. She let Tish cook for the field hands for a while, but now she says that’s a waste of resources since Tish can run a manor kitchen and would bring a fair price on the market. She says Tish has to go.” He looked straight at Charlotte. “That’s why I’m here. I mean I’ve sent plenty of slaves down the river, but it don’t seem right to do that to Tish.”

  “Father won’t let her.”

  “That’s just it. She don’t have to ask him. He wrote out a paper giving her permission to do whatever she wants, and she ordered me not to tell him.” Perkins looked down at the floor as though suddenly ashamed to meet Charlotte’s eyes. “I’ve been at Grayson for thirty years. I’m too old to find a new place.”

  Charlotte wasn’t concerned about his problems. Only Aunt Tish. She couldn’t let Selena sell her. She had to stop this insanity. “I’ll buy her.”

  Relief flashed across Perkins’s face as he looked up at her. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and held them out toward Charlotte. “I’m even willing to put in a hundred dollars out of my pocket, long as you don’t tell Mrs. Vance.”

  Charlotte stared at the money between them as the realization of the truth of her actual poverty slammed her in the heart. She had no money. She had nothing. She’d left it all at Grayson.

  Sister Altha drove that truth home as she said, “Do you have wealth we know nothing about, Sister Charlotte? If so, you were to have turned such over to the Ministry when you came among us. We have all property in common here.”

  Charlotte shut her eyes and saw Aunt Tish looking at her with belief when Charlotte had promised to someday free her. She felt near tears as she said, “Nay. I have no money.”

  “I thought not,” Sister Altha said.

  Perkins dropped the hand holding the bills back to his side. He looked beaten, but Charlotte couldn’t accept that. She had to find a way to stop Selena. Paper money was not the only thing of value in the world.

  She fastened her eyes on Sister Altha to make an appeal. “I brought a necklace and ring with me that I gave over to you. And a horse. They had some value. And I know where I can get another very fine gold necklace.”

  “You would not steal it from your father of the world, would you?” Sister Altha looked at her with a good bit of suspicion.

  “Nay. It is buried beside my mother’s tombstone. It was hers, but she would want me to use it to keep Aunt Tish from being sold.” Charlotte looked at Sister Altha. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll do anything you ask if you will help buy her for me.”

  “For you?” Sister Altha said.

  “To free her,” Charlotte amended.

  “And will she run away as soon as she gets here to Harmony Hill as Sister Melana did?” Sister Altha narrowed her eyes on Charlotte as though it was her fault that Mellie had left.

  “Sister Altha, we cannot hold Sister Charlotte to blame for our former sister’s lack of commitment,” Sister Martha said in a soft voice but one that carried a hint of censure.

  Sister Altha looked over at Perkins who had not stuffed his money back in his pocket. “We are not heartless, Mr. Perkins, but we are unable to purchase every slave we see being maltreated. Oh, that we could.”

  “You wouldn’t have to repay my money,” Perkins said. When Sister Altha didn’t say anything, he looked as if he were choosing his next words carefully. “You might want to remember that someday Miss Charlotte here may inherit the Grayson land. If she stays with you, she’d have to give it over to you, wouldn’t she?”

  “Our charity is not dependent on such concerns. And even if it were, it remains to be seen whether our sister will be able to pick up the cross of sacrifice and become one with us here at Harmony Hill.” Sister Altha frowned as she sent a side glance toward Charlotte. “I have many doubts as to that ever happening.”

  “She’s been with you a good many months now when she could have been dancing in parlors and sitting on garden benches twirling her parasol.” Perkins kept his eyes on Sister Altha. As a man used to seizing the upper hand in any confrontation, he had recognized the person with power in front of him.

  “He speaks true words, Sister Altha,” Sister Martha agreed quietly as she motioned with a barely lifted finger for Charlotte’s silence. “Sister Charlotte has been working diligently in our Society.”

  Sister Altha’s eyes narrowed on Charlotte. “And what say you, Sister? Are you willing to make such a bargain?”

  “I may never own the land now that my father has remarried.” Charlotte didn’t try to lie to Sister Altha. “So it may not be mine to give, but if I do receive some land as any inheritance, I will deed you one hundred acres. I’ll put it in writing and that will be true whether I remain with you or not.”

  “But you say that may not happen.”

  “Yea, that is true.” Charlotte stared at Sister Altha. “All I truly have is the labor of my hands. I promise it to you for a year if you will buy Aunt Tish.” She didn’t know if it would be enough, but it was all she had.

  Sister Martha spoke up. “Our Society does not deal in human bondage.”

  “Do not be so quick to find fault with her plan, Sister Martha,” Sister Altha said without looking over at the older sister. Instead she was smiling slightly at Charlotte. “We do not talk of bondage here. We speak only of commitment. Do we not each commit to working with our hands for the good of all? It would not be right of us to deny our sister the blessing of giving the gift of self for such an honorable reason. To do so might hinder the growth of her spirit.”

  “Your thinking is faulty, my sister,” Sister Martha warned.

  Charlotte put her hand on Sister Martha’s arm. “Please, Sister Martha, let Sister Altha approach the Ministry with my request.”

  “It is not right,” Si
ster Martha insisted.

  “Yea, it is. Many years ago I promised Aunt Tish her freedom if ever I had the means to provide it. I beg you not to deny me this means.” What was one short year of her life to live in bondage to a promise when Aunt Tish had lived so many years in bondage to chains?

  “It is not a decision for me to make,” Sister Martha said with a little sigh. “The Ministry will so decide. In the past they have chosen to purchase the freedom of some—not for the guarantee of a return but only out of kindness.”

  “You speak truth. And because of Sister Charlotte’s willingness to bend her spirit, I will speak in favor of the kindness of rescuing this poor woman from the evils of slavery.” Sister Altha almost smiled as she looked at Charlotte. “You will need to fetch the necklace,” she said as if the decision had already been made by the Ministry. She reached for the money in the overseer’s hand. “What price has been set on this woman of whom we speak?”

  Perkins surrendered the money willingly. “Eight hundred. She is an excellent cook and knows many domestic skills, but her age has lowered her price.”

  “Very well. Come with me and if the Ministry allows this purchase as I feel certain they will, we will arrange the funds while our sister fetches the necklace of which she speaks.” Sister Altha was all business now.

  Brother Willard, who was almost as old as Sister Martha, drove Charlotte and the old sister to Grayson that afternoon. At Charlotte’s request, he pulled the Shakers’ wagon in among some trees a little way from the house where they would be hidden from easy view. Charlotte had no wish to see Selena or for Selena to see her.

  Of course Selena might not even be at Grayson. She might have gone to a summer home somewhere in the north. Or to Frankfort to be with Charlotte’s father. That would give her the chance to attend all the fancy events that were held in the capital. Charlotte wondered if Selena was planning entertainments at Grayson. Perhaps not, since so many in the county were pro-Secessionist while Charlotte’s father would be maintaining his unyielding support of the Union even as he roundly condemned the President’s talk of abolishing slavery.

  If she was at Grayson, Charlotte hoped Selena would be taking her afternoon rest on the front veranda, as was the usual custom for ladies in the summer months. Charlotte could almost see the tray of sweet iced tea and shortbread cookies covered by a white linen cloth on the glass table beside the wicker chair. There might even be a young slave girl stirring the air and keeping the flies away with a palm leaf fan if visitors had come to call.

  The thought of whiling away a summer afternoon so lazily seemed almost foreign to Charlotte now as she made the short walk to the graveyard. The July sun was hot. So the moment she was out of sight of Sister Martha, Charlotte stripped off the Shaker cap to let the slight breeze ruffle her hair. It was good to feel Grayson land under her feet and have Grayson air filling her lungs. Every inch of her skin tingled with joy as she lightly ran her hands over the bark of the trees and wished her shoes gone so the grass could tickle her toes. She was home.

  But not to stay, she reminded herself sternly. Perhaps never again to stay. That was no reason she couldn’t rejoice in this moment as she paused at the edge of the stand of trees and looked toward Grayson’s manor house. The rear of the house was plain in comparison to the front. No dormer windows. No veranda spreading out with shady welcome. The porch on the back was a working porch where servants shelled beans and shucked corn. She looked for Aunt Tish, but could see no one moving about.

  That was good. Charlotte slipped across the open field to the graveyard where once again she felt concealed by the trees shading the graves. She’d promised Sister Martha she wouldn’t linger, but once at her mother’s grave, she touched the headstone warm from the day’s sun and remembered the last time she’d touched the stone. Adam Wade had backed her into it, expecting her to kiss him. She hadn’t. She’d wanted to, but she hadn’t.

  Would she ever again have the chance to feel his lips on hers? He was following the army into battle. Not to fight, but to draw illustrations of the conflict. That didn’t mean he might not be in harm’s way. And she, what of her? She had promised her hands to the Shakers. It was better to push all thought of Adam Wade far from her mind. She had told Sister Altha she would pick up the cross of sacrifice and carry it without complaint. She was no longer the Charlotte who was born to the manor house and a lady’s life of ease. She was Sister Charlotte with a duty to do. Retrieve the necklace for the Shakers to sell to help gather the money needed for Aunt Tish’s freedom.

  She knelt down to feel for the edge of the circle of grass she had lifted up to bury the necklace. “I know you won’t mind, Mother,” she said aloud as she pushed the trowel she’d brought with her into the ground.

  “Are you Mayda?” a timid voice asked behind her.

  Startled, Charlotte whirled around. The trowel banged against the tombstone and bounced out of her hand. A boy was watching her with large, frightened eyes.

  “Mayda?” she asked when she found her voice.

  “Come out of the grave to haunt my mother.” The child pointed a finger at the tombstone. He was very slender and too pale either from the fright of staring at a haunt or perhaps a recent illness that had kept him in out of the sun for too many days. “Little Jim says I’d better watch out for Grayson ghosts trying to chase me and Mother away.” He paused a minute as if getting up his nerve to say his next words. “Ghosts like you.”

  “Do I look like a ghost?” Charlotte asked with a little smile.

  “Not the way I imagined, but Miss Pennebaker says I don’t always imagine things right. Like being a whaleboat captain. She tells me that really wouldn’t be so much fun, that I’d have to start out swabbing decks and eating fishhead stew.” He came a couple of steps closer. “Have you ever eaten fishhead stew?”

  “I don’t think I have, but then ghosts don’t have much need to eat.”

  “You’re not a ghost,” the little boy said.

  “Oh? Then who am I?” Charlotte laughed before she turned away from him to pick up the trowel and shove it into the ground to find the box she’d planted there only a few months before.

  “My sister.”

  Charlotte froze as chills ran up her back. Perhaps instead of her being the ghost, this child was. Her little brother grown 276 older in some sort of spirit world and haunting the graveyard where his little body was buried. Charlotte shook her head at the foolishness of her thoughts. The child behind her wasn’t a ghost any more than she was. She dug deeper in the hole until she felt the hard edges of the box. She lifted it out of the dirt before she turned back to the boy. “Why do you think I’m your sister?”

  “You have red hair. Ghosts don’t have red hair, but my sister does.”

  He had to be Selena’s child, even if he had little resemblance to her. “All right. You’ve caught me. I’m not a ghost. But who told you I’m your sister?”

  “Mother.” The boy had lost his nervous fright at the thought of ghosts and now merely looked curious. “Is it a long walk from Virginia?”

  “Virginia?”

  “From your school there. I would have thought it would be a very long walk. I had to ride a train with Miss Pennebaker when we came here from Boston. I wanted to come on a ship, but Mother said I couldn’t.”

  “Grayson doesn’t sit on the ocean, and my school is not quite so far as Virginia,” Charlotte said. “You must be Landon.”

  “You know me then,” the child said as if it was a common thing for the people he met to know him without introductions. “Your mother told me you were coming to Grayson.”

  “But you were already gone when I got here. Did Mother make you leave?”

  “Why do you say that?” Charlotte sat back on her heels and studied the child’s sincere face. Not only did he not look like his mother, he seemed to have little of her ways.

  “I don’t know.” He looked down at his shoes as if worried he’d said something that was going to get him in trouble. “It’s
just that Mother’s very good at making things happen as she wants. That’s why Miss Pennebaker says I won’t get to be a whaleboat captain. Mother would never allow it. She says I have to be a gentleman.” The little boy peeked back up at Charlotte. “Do you know what gentlemen do? Besides not going barefoot and always being polite.”

  Charlotte looked at the child Selena was pushing forward to take Charlotte’s rightful place at Grayson, and in spite of that, she laughed and took pity on this pale boy who was doomed to years of attempting to please Selena. “Gentlemen might not harpoon whales, but they ride horses and practice shooting.”

  “I know. That’s so they can go to the army and be captains and generals and not have to march on the ground.” Landon looked worried again. “But I don’t want to shoot people. I’d rather harpoon whales.”

  “Then perhaps someday you will,” Charlotte said as she stood up and brushed the dirt off her hands on her apron. “Sometimes a gentleman or a lady does the most unexpected things. Now I must go back to my unexpected path.”

  “Can I tell Mother I saw you?”

  “Do you think she’ll believe you? As you said, it is a very long walk from Virginia.” Charlotte looked at him with raised eyebrows before prizing the top off the powder box. She lifted out the necklace and dropped it down into her pocket. Sister Martha would be getting worried.

  “Perhaps I will keep it a secret. Brothers and sisters have secrets, don’t they?”

  “They do.”

  “I hope you come back,” Landon told her. He looked sad to see her go.

  “I might. Someday.” Charlotte smiled at the boy. Selena must have stolen him from another mother. “Until then, I’ll share a secret with you. Gentlemen can go barefoot as long as their mothers don’t see and they don’t complain if they happen to step on a bee.”