The Lost Quilter

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  Snatching up her shawl, Miss Evangeline raced outside. Joanna trailed after her, curious and half-afraid, to find men and women pouring from the houses into the streets. Men threw their hats in the air and cheered; women waved handkerchiefs and embraced one another. “Mrs. Ames,” Miss Evangeline cried out, spotting her neighbor. “Tell me, what’s the news?”

  “The convention vote was unanimous,” Mrs. Ames declared, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief and beaming. “One hundred sixty-nine to zero. The Union is dissolved!”

  Cold fingers of dread brushed against Joanna’s heart as all around her the jubilation multiplied. Ever since she had come to Harper Hall, she had overheard speculation that South Carolinians might get so fed up with the federal government that they would leave the Union and go their own way. Now it had happened. Most of Miss Evangeline’s friends had said that they expected the Union to let them go without a fight, but Joanna couldn’t believe it. In all her life she had never known buckra to let go of something they thought was rightfully theirs. They never stood on the front porch waving good-bye to a runaway. They set the dogs on him.

  Joanna left Miss Evangeline celebrating with Mrs. Ames and went inside to finish her work.

  All day long, Charleston celebrated. Miss Evangeline dashed off letters to her father and to friends, and when she sent George to East Bay Street with a note for Aunt Lucretia, he returned carrying Aunt Lucretia’s invitation to a secession party to be held at her home the following day. The colonel came home early to escort his wife to Institute Hall for the formal signing of the declaration. Abner drove the newlyweds in the coach, Asa and Joanna rode along on the drivers’ seat, and the newlyweds arrived just in time to witness the delegates marching in procession from St. Andrew’s Hall. The General Assembly awaited them within, or so Joanna heard the colonel say as the master and mistress joined the throng of jubilant Charlestonians who had come to witness the historic event. The Harpers managed to work their way through the crowd and through the front doors; folks took once glance at the colonel’s uniform and instinctively stepped back, clearing a narrow path for them. Hundreds of people who could not squeeze inside milled about on the stairs, the balconies, the sidewalks, but when the clock on a cupola high above the tall white front columns approached half past six, a hush fell over them, as all strained their ears in a vain attempt to hear what passed inside.

  Joanna, Abner, and Asa waited outside near the coach. “So quiet,” Joanna said, uneasy, drawing her shawl around her shoulders although the evening was unseasonably warm. Such a change from the noisy celebration of the day.

  “Each of them men got to sign his name,” said Abner. “That vote don’t mean nothing until they make their mark.”

  Joanna imagined the buckra inside, holding their breath, leaning forward eagerly as one by one each of the 169 men signed the paper. The clock hands slowly moved; Joanna paced near the coach and thought of Ruthie and Hannah. Two hours passed. Then, suddenly, a roar erupted within Institute Hall, the doors burst open, and all at once it seemed that from every direction people filled the streets, shouting and whooping and singing. “South Carolina is an independent commonwealth!” a voice rang out above the din, and was swallowed up by cheers.

  Joanna pressed herself against the coach, wishing the colonel would return so they could go back to Harper Hall, wishing Miss Evangeline had not required her to come. Somewhere a band struck up a merry march; fireworks popped and crackled; celebrants formed impromptu parades. The horses shied and stomped their hooves while Abner tried to calm them. Joanna spotted Miss Evangeline passing between the building’s tall white columns and descending the stairs, beaming and clinging to her husband’s arm as they worked their way through the crowd to the coach. Joanna sprang forward to help her inside, tucking in her long skirt, assisting her with her wraps. The sooner the mistress was settled, the sooner they would reach the safety of Harper Hall.

  It took them nearly an hour to make a journey that on an ordinary day would have needed only a few minutes. At last they passed through the wrought iron gates, and a laughing, exuberant Miss Evangeline pulled her grinning husband from the coach and danced with him on the lawn. Abner was tight-lipped, concerned about the jittery horses, which shied at every burst of fireworks and cannon shot; Asa was sober and silent.

  Joanna put away the mistress’s wraps and went to the kitchen, where Sally and Minnie peppered her with questions as they hurried to serve the Harpers’ delayed supper. Joanna answered as best she could, but when they asked her what secession meant for colored folk, she did not know what to say. It could not possibly mean anything good for them. Secession would bring war, and war meant trouble, and when trouble came, the colored folk always got the worst of it.

  She was sick at heart when she considered that Elm Creek Farm was now within another country. It was no farther away than it had been before the convention voted, but somehow it seemed more impossible to reach.

  “What a merry Christmas this will be,” the colonel declared as Asa helped him undress for bed and Joanna undressed Miss Evangeline. “Just think of it: our first Christmas as a free and independent commonwealth.”

  “Let’s hope the New Year doesn’t bring us a war.” Miss Evangeline pulled back the quilt and climbed into bed. “Federal forces are too close for comfort. I wish we could drive them out of the harbor and out to sea.”

  “They won’t trouble us,” her husband reassured her. “Major Anderson is no fool. He has only a handful of men at Fort Moultrie, hardly enough to start a war, especially one he himself doesn’t want. He knows Charleston is well protected as long our men hold Fort Sumter.”

  “But after that loathsome Mr. Lincoln takes office, if he should give orders—”

  “He won’t. If he should threaten war rather than let us leave the Union peacefully, Great Britain will intercede. They’ll rally to our cause rather than allow their cotton supply to be cut off.”

  “Of course you’re right,” said Miss Evangeline, but Joanna recognized the familiar lightness that meant the mistress was not telling the whole truth of what she felt.

  Three days later, Christmas guests began to arrive. Joanna rushed around tending to one newcomer after another, but always she listened for horses’ hooves on cobblestones and the rattle of a familiar coach. Hannah listened and waited too, eagerly peeping out the front window at the sound of each new arrival. “Your mama comin’ soon,” Joanna promised her, and the silent girl rewarded her with the quick flash of a smile.

  The James Island Harpers were among the first to arrive. Hannah was helping Joanna make beds in a guest bedroom when the coach pulled up with the Marse Colonel’s parents, widowed sister, and nephews. Hannah raced downstairs to greet her mother, and after a moment Joanna followed, curiosity overcoming her caution, for she knew she would be punished if she did not have their guests’ rooms ready in time.

  She caught up with the girl on the front porch, frozen in place, staring at the wagon that had pulled up behind the James Island Harpers’ coach carrying slaves, trunks, and parcels. “Which one your mama, child?” Joanna asked, watching the female slaves, wondering why not one face lit up in recognition, why no one cried out in joy at the sight of Hannah awaiting her.

  Suddenly Hannah turned and darted back inside.

  “Hannah?” Quickly Joanna followed and, rounding the corner, barely avoided crashing into Minnie and sending the housekeeper’s armful of linens flying. “Where Hannah go? Why she run away from her mama?”

  Minnie went to the window, peered outside, and shook her head. “None of them’s her mama.”

  “Ain’t her mama maid to Marse Colonel’s sister?” No buckra lady went for an overnight visit without her maid.

  “She was, but she ain’t here.” Minnie indicated one of the slave women with a jerk of her head. “That one there, I ain’t never seen her before. Maybe she Mrs. Givens’s new maid.”

  Joanna’s worries were confirmed later that day after Minnie showed th
e newcomers to the slaves’ dormitory and hurried back to tell Joanna what she had learned. The unfamiliar slave woman was indeed Mrs. Givens’s new maid, purchased after Hannah’s mother died of malaria. “She been gone three months,” Minnie said, shaking her head and glancing at Hannah, who gave no sign of hearing or understanding a word as she went to the kitchen as if intent on some errand for Sally.

  But Joanna knew better.

  While unpacking the colonel’s mother’s bags, Joanna heard the familiar rattle of carriage wheels at last, and her heart leaped as she raced to the window to confirm her hopes. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of Titus, tall and strong in the driver’s seat, pulling up to the carriage house and looking around eagerly for her. Forgetting the open trunk, the folded dresses, she raced downstairs and outside. “Titus,” she shouted. “Titus!”

  He pulled the horses to a halt and swiftly climbed down from the high seat. A moment later, his arms were around her, his mouth seeking hers. “Don’t cry,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m here. It’s all right.”

  “How’s Ruthie?” she said, breathless. “My baby girl all right?”

  “She’s good.” Titus kissed her and held her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

  With a gasp, Joanna whirled around and watched as a wagon pulled up behind the coach, the bed loaded with parcels and slaves whose services could not be done without even for a short visit. Mrs. Chester’s maid climbed down from the wagon bed, and when she unwrapped her shawl, Joanna spotted Ruthie in her arms. She ran to her daughter, snatched her up, and held her close, convincing herself that it was only her imagination that Ruthie squirmed and reached for the maid. “It’s Mama,” Joanna told her. “I’m your mama. You remember me.”

  “I thought you would be pleased,” said Miss Evangeline, who had come outside to greet her father, brothers, sister, and stepmother as they emerged from the coach. “I meant it to be a surprise for Christmas, but I suppose it would have been impossible to hide a baby, even in such a busy house as ours.”

  “Thank you,” Joanna said, voice trembling. Miss Evangeline had never shown her such kindness. “Thank you for not waiting for Christmas, missus. I get two more days to visit with her now.”

  “This isn’t a visit,” Miss Evangeline said. “Julia will be staying with us.”

  Joanna hardly dared speak. Surely this must be one of the mistress’s cruel amusements. “For good?”

  “For good, and if she’s anything like her mother, I know one day I’ll wonder how I ever managed without her. I know you’re training Hannah as a seamstress.” Miss Evangeline smiled and laid a hand gracefully on her abdomen. “But my daughter shall need a maid.”

  “You mean our son shall need a servant.” The colonel seized his wife’s hands and raised them to his lips. “What do you say, Titus? Any plans for a boy?”

  Any reply Titus might have made was lost in the sudden exclamations of joy and flurry of embraces as Harpers and Chesters celebrated the couple’s happy news. “A grandson,” Marse Chester proclaimed, shaking his head in wonder and delight. “My dear, I haven’t been so happy since—”

  “Since South Carolina became an independent commonwealth?” Miss Evangeline broke in. Everyone laughed—except for the colored folk, who were busy unloading packages, minding children, tending horses, making sure the masters and mistresses wanted for nothing. Nothing must spoil their holiday. “I can’t promise you a grandson, Papa, only a grandchild.”

  “How are you feeling?” her stepmother inquired politely.

  “As well as can be expected,” the mistress replied. “Aunt Lucretia has been very attentive and our neighbor, Mrs. Ames, shows me great kindness. The servants see to it that I don’t want for anything.” She turned a fond glance Joanna’s way. “I only hope that Julia will be as good and faithful a servant to my daughter as you have been to me.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Harper,” Joanna managed to say. “Me too.”

  “You mean to your son,” the colonel and Marse Chester corrected in unison, and all the buckra burst into laughter.

  Unhitching the horses, Titus looked Joanna’s way, and when his eyes met hers, he gave his head the tiniest shake. She knew what he was thinking. He could not wish a lifetime as Miss Evangeline’s maid upon their baby girl. The only dream good enough for her was freedom.

  Hannah took to baby Ruthie immediately. While Joanna unpacked the visiting women’s trunks, Hannah lay Ruthie on a quilt spread on the floor and dangled a hair ribbon for the baby to seize and tug with her tiny fist. Joanna watched the two girls while she worked. Ruthie’s legs kicked busily as she beamed up at her new playmate; silent Hannah made amusing faces and bent forward to give Ruthie’s round cheeks tiny kisses. It probably did not occur to Hannah, who had no one and expected nothing for herself, to be jealous of the baby.

  All day long, Joanna blissfully cuddled her daughter whenever she could steal moments from her work, whenever Miss Evangeline could not observe them. She dared not remind the mistress why she had once accused Joanna of allowing her child to distract her from her duties. Titus had to keep to the stable and the carriage house most of the day, but when all the servants came together at mealtimes, they could be together. Joanna sat on the floor with her side pressed close to her husband’s, his arm around her shoulders, baby Ruthie on her lap. Hannah sat nearby, scooping rice into her mouth from her gourd bowl, eyeing Titus warily as if waiting for him to shoo her away.

  “Look like she think she belong to you,” said Titus, amused.

  “She understand everything you say,” Joanna warned lightly. People often made that mistake and spoke freely in front of the silent girl. If Hannah could speak, Joanna could only imagine the secrets she would spill. “She don’t got no one else.”

  As Joanna lifted Ruthie to her shoulder, Titus cupped her little head in his palm. “You got your own girl now.”

  Hannah appeared to be preoccupied with picking the last grains of rice from her bowl, but Joanna knew better. “Maybe I got two.”

  Almost imperceptibly, Hannah smiled, but at the same time, a shadow darkened Titus’s eyes. “You mean Miss Evangeline got two.”

  His words took the merriment from her like an exhalation of breath. He was right. Hannah couldn’t ever be Joanna’s. Not even Ruthie could ever be truly hers, not when the master or mistress could part them forever with a single word.

  That night, after Ruthie fell asleep in the narrow rope bed beside Hannah, Joanna crept down the stairs and slipped outside, the cobblestones cool and smooth on her bare feet. Silently she stole away to the carriage house, where she found Titus waiting for her in the hayloft. They embraced as if they were once again alone by the riverbank on Oak Grove, and she slept that night in his arms, peaceful, free, until he woke her by stroking her hair and murmuring a warning of the approach of dawn. Brushing straw from her dress, Joanna slipped back into the kitchen building and upstairs to the dormitory, where she found Ruthie wide awake, peering curiously up at the sloped ceiling. Beside her Hannah slept on, her arm curled protectively around the baby.

  The days passed in a blur of work and stolen moments of happiness in Titus’s arms. Christmas Eve came. Joanna wondered how many slaves back at Oak Grove would receive their annual clothing ration and how many would do without. She could not imagine Mrs. Chester finishing the work Joanna had left incomplete. Perhaps Marse Chester had bought another seamstress from the Charleston slave market. Or perhaps Josiah Chester had sent another incorrigible runaway down south, another problem for his more responsible brother to fix. They probably thought they had fixed Joanna, that they had driven the yearning for freedom from her forever. Marse Chester had assured his wife that marriage and motherhood would settle Joanna down, and she had let them believe that. What they would not know until the day they found her missing was that marriage and motherhood had made her even more desperate to see her family safely to freedom, where no one could ever separate them.

  How she
and Titus would bring this to pass, she did not know, but when the time came, she was determined to take Hannah with them.

  The Harpers and Chesters made merry Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, their celebrations infused with an eager anticipation and bold promises of what the New Year would bring the new commonwealth. The colonel and Marse Chester expected other Southern states to follow South Carolina’s lead and withdraw from the Union. As their numbers increased, the men said, the Northern states would recognize the futility of holding the old nation together and let the Southern commonwealths go without argument. In the meantime, the colonel said as he raised his glass in a Christmas toast, he would train his soldiers and wait.

  Two days after Christmas, the colonel was proved entirely wrong when a messenger came running to Harper Hall and breathlessly repeated the news that had shocked Charlestonians waking early on December 26.

  The Stars and Stripes flew over Fort Sumter.

  Chapter Six

  1860–61

  Charleston, South Carolina

  How can this be?” Miss Evangeline cried, pacing back and forth while Asa swiftly dressed the colonel in his uniform. “How could Major Anderson have slipped past the harbor guards?”

  “Perhaps those guards indulged in a little too much Christmas cheer,” her husband replied grimly, holding out his arms so Asa could slip on his coat. “I have to give the major credit. It was a brilliant maneuver. If he’d remained at Fort Moultrie, he would have been vulnerable to an attack from the rear, but now—”

  “Now he’s in the middle of the channel, probably turning his guns upon us as we speak.”