Disappointment fueled a fire his chest. He wanted to find out more about the doctor in Virginia. Was she serious about this man? Bruce strolled around the wagon and prepared to pull himself up into the seat.
“Good day, Bruce Millikan,” a familiar voice called from behind.
Bruce turned to see Pastor John Allred striding toward him from across the street. He had to dodge a rider before he reached Bruce. They shook hands in a firm grip, greeting each other with smiles.
“Glad to see thee back. When did thee arrive in town?” John asked.
“Almost a fortnight ago. I'm sorry I missed meeting last week, but I plan to be there this Sunday. It was a long trip to Indiana. I've been trying to catch up on some chores around the farm.”
“No need to explain.” John shook his head and waved his hand to dismiss the issue. “Thee is doing important work for the Lord. That's the main thing. Was the mission successful?”
“Yes, but I'm looking forward to seeing everyone again and catching up on all the news. I just ran into Flora and Irene Saferight.”
“I heard they're about to leave on the train to Virginia.” John rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking of which, there's something I'd like to discuss with thee. Would thee be willing to come over for supper tonight?”
Bruce rubbed his chin. What would Flora's trip to Virginia have to do with him? Curious, he nodded. “I'll tell Mother not to expect me for supper when I return. Flora mentioned a doctor she met up there two summers ago. Does thee know when they'll be leaving?” Bruce hoped his voice sounded casual. “I thought she was planning on being a midwife around here.”
“I don't reckon her plans have changed.” John shook his head, his brown eyes lit up, and a smooth grin spread across his face. “In fact, she helped Hazel Miller birth her latest child. I think Flora will prove to be one of our community's best assets.”
Not if she moves away to Virginia. The sudden thought made Bruce's stomach churn. She was too young. What was she thinking? He'd only been gone eight months. How could things change so fast?
“Well, Pastor John, I'd better get these things home and put away so I can make it over to your place in time for supper.”
“Good idea, Bruce.” John slapped him on the shoulder. “I'll see thee in a little while.”
Bruce gave him a nod and climbed into the wagon. He took the reins, unset the brake, and guided the horse down the street.
Flora didn't slow until the post office was in sight. Her sister breathed heavily from their brisk pace, hauling her new cloak over her arm.
“I still don't see why thee wouldn't let me stop long enough to put my cloak in the wagon. Besides, I thought we had more shopping to do.” Irene glared at Flora while they waited for a buggy to pass before crossing the street.
“I promise. We'll go back and finish our shopping after I'm sure Bruce Millikan is gone.” Flora charged into the street and stomped across the dirt road.
“Thee cannot avoid him forever. Forgive him for the past and let it go. He's right. It was a long time ago.”
“It's true that Beaver Face was a long time ago, but his calling me foolhardy this morning isn't.” Flora blew out a puff of air. If it were possible for a human being to explode, she'd be in a million pieces right now.
She swung open the post office door and an elderly woman stumbled out.
“Oh! Pardon me.” Flora reached for the woman's elbow to steady her.
“Goodness!” The gray-haired woman righted herself and smoothed her skirts. She lifted her chin and glanced up at Flora and then Irene with brown eyes of stone. “You young people need not be in such haste. I daresay, this post office won't grow legs and walk, you know.”
“We're sorry.” Flora pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Inside, Flora blinked, adjusting her eyes to the darkness. She strode toward the open window, where Joseph Miller, the clerk, greeted her with a genuine smile.
“Howdy, Miss Saferight and Miss Saferight.” He nodded to Irene standing by Flora. “Hazel and the baby are doing very well. You did a fine job delivering my baby girl.” He rubbed the top of his bald head, which sported a thin layer of brown hair stretched from ear to ear.
“I'm glad to hear it. I hope to stop by for a visit before we leave on our trip to Virginia,” Flora said.
“Hazel would like that. I think the confinement is starting to bother her.”
“It won't be long before she'll be able to go out into society again.” Flora pulled out a folded letter addressed to her aunt. “I need to send this to Charlottesville, Virginia.”
“That will be one penny.”
Flora dug into her skirt pocket and handed him the required change. Once they finished their business at the post office, they stepped outside the small wooden building into the bright sun. She shielded her eyes. She loved North Carolina in the fall. Soon more color would fill their world and cooler weather would bring in the harvest.
“I promised Mother we'd stop by the train station and find out the prices of the tickets,” Flora said as they made their way toward South Elm Street.
“This is exciting!” In a sudden burst of energy, Irene caught Flora's pace as a smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “Just think, we'll be going through the capital city of Raleigh and then into Virginia in comfortable passenger seats. No slow, bumpy wagon with a hard wooden seat for days on end.”
The sound of a distant train whistle bellowed through the air. Smoke shot into the sky over the gray roof of the wooden train depot as they neared. A shiny black engine appeared beyond the building, hauling several linked train cars. They took off in an eastward direction. More steam unleashed its power, hissing and groaning against the wheels attempting to churn over the rails. The massive iron machine started out slow, but gained speed and momentum with each thrust.
They reached the side of the depot and rounded the corner of the building to the front entrance. Flora collided with a moving object and gasped, straightening her bonnet.
“Oh, dear, please excuse me,” a woman said.
Flora glanced up. Concerned green eyes met her gaze. Wisps of auburn hair framed the young woman's face beneath a white bonnet. Recognition gripped Flora's muddled brain as she took a moment to sort through her childhood memories for a name.
“Kimberly Coltrane?” Flora tilted her head and gulped, hoping she'd remembered correctly.
“Yes.” She blinked, and after a moment her eyes widened. “Flora and Irene Saferight?” Her mouth dropped open, and she covered it with a delicate hand. “How long has it been?”
“It seems like thee moved from Centre to New Garden four or five years ago,” Irene said. “Thee has turned into a beauty.”
Her rosy glow deepened and she looked down. While she wore a simple gray skirt and white blouse, Flora agreed that Kimberly could never be considered plain.
“What brings thee to Greensboro?” She glanced from Irene to Flora, arching an eyebrow.
“Shopping,” Irene said, holding out her new cloak.
“It's lovely,” Kimberly ran a gentle hand over the purple garment. “I wish I was in town to shop. I came with my father. He's inside buying a ticket for a business trip to Raleigh. Earlier I had to wait on him in the hardware store.” Her eyes brightened, almost like sparkling emeralds. “Guess who we ran into?”
Irene and Flora exchanged knowing glances.
“Would it happen to be Bruce Millikan?” Flora asked, trying not to show disdain in her expression or tone.
“Exactly!” She grinned, blinking in surprise. “He's changed so much. He's as tall as my father now. They discussed farming methods in the hardware store.”
“Indeed, we saw him in the general store.” Flora shifted in discomfort as Kimberly's expression transformed to a dreamy daze.
“Who would have ever guessed that Bruce Millikan would turn out to be so handsome?” Kimberly touched her hand to her chest. “He's such a gentleman and so attentive. I hope he meant it when he said
I've grown into a sophisticated woman and he'd stop by and call on us when he's in town again.”
“He called thee sophisticated?” The question tumbled from Flora's tongue before she could hold it back. Disappointment stabbed her anew, twisting her heart.
“Yes.” Kimberly folded her arms as if hugging herself and her smile widened. “Father seems to be impressed by him as well. He's talked of nothing else since.”
Rare jealousy sparked a flame in Flora's wounded heart. She had always wondered if Bruce Millikan was incapable of tenderness and pleasant gallantry. Now she had proof. He was more than capable—just not with her. The realization brought anger and then a fresh wave of bitterness.
Bruce rode past fields of tobacco and rows of tall corn until, by early afternoon, the two-story gray house came into view.
His mother came out onto the porch, shielding her brown eyes from the sun. Her plump form was a welcome sight as she pulled her tan shawl tight around her and patted the silver bun on the crown of her head.
“Looks like thee brought the whole store back from town,” her soft voice teased. She hurried down the porch steps toward the wagon and peered over the side.
“Just half of it.” Bruce winked, giving her a grin as he jumped down. When she smiled back, a ring of wrinkles encased her loving eyes, reminding him of how much she had aged in the last two years.
With two older sons and a daughter grown and married, his parents were now sixty. Only Bruce and Silas, his younger brother, remained on the farm.
“I ran into Pastor John while I was in town. He asked me over for supper. Said he needed to discuss something with me.” Bruce laid a hand on his mother's shoulder. “So don't make a plate for me this evening.” He kissed her cheek.
“I hope he doesn't have another mission for thee so soon. Son, I believe in the work thee does for the Underground Railroad, but after so many months of traveling, thee needs a break. Can he not find someone else this time?” His mother wrung her hands as she followed him to the back of the wagon, where he unhitched the latch and pulled down the gate.
“I'm not sure, but I'll be fine, Mother. Thee knows if I don't go, Father will. He's content to let me take his place, but he won't stand by and let the Millikans miss out on what he thinks is an opportunity to save a life.”
“It's so dangerous!”
“Which is why Father should stay here. He can't handle the outdoor elements and the vigorous running and climbing over the mountains like he once did.”
“Holly!” His father rode his horse in a canter toward them.
Bruce and his mother walked to meet him where he had slowed to a stop. With the sun casting him in a silhouette from behind, his gray whiskers and sideburns looked white rather than gray beneath his black hat.
“Some of the cows escaped.” He took a deep breath. “Part of the fence must have been weak.”
“I'll help thee round them up,” Bruce offered.
“Thee can help after unloading.” His father nodded toward the wagon. “Where's Silas?”
“He was in the barn working on that harvest machine that Bruce made a while back,” Mother said. “Can't get it to work right.”
“I'll need his help. He can work on that later.” Father started to pull away, but she reached up and laid a hand on his arm.
“Eli, Bruce has another meeting with the pastor this evening.”
His father paused, and his hazel eyes met Bruce's. “Do I need to be there?”
“He didn't mention it,” Bruce said.
“Well, all right, then. Let us know if it's another mission.” His father rode away.
“I wish thee didn't have to go.” His mother sighed, watching her husband ride toward the barn.
“It may not even be about a new mission. Pastor John may only want a report on the last mission to Indiana.”
She grabbed his arm and smiled with relief. “Thee is right. I hadn't even thought of that. Perhaps that's all it is.”
2
Bruce pulled up behind another wagon in front of Pastor John's small one-story house. Who else could he have invited? After a busy afternoon of putting away supplies and helping his brother round up cattle that had escaped through the broken fence, he was glad he'd had the foresight to bathe and dress in some decent, clean clothes. While he believed in the Quaker ways of dressing plain, he also believed in cleanliness and being presentable, especially in mixed company.
He set the brake and glanced up at the waning sun casting its pinkish glow across the evening sky. Crickets sang from nearby bushes. Fireflies glowed with blinking yellow lights.
Jumping to his feet, John's black Lab barked from the front porch. Bruce grinned at Shadow's tail wagging in excitement. Once Bruce had hopped down and walked around the wagon, the animal ran over and leaped up on him, greeting Bruce with a long, wet tongue. Bruce managed to turn his face just in time.
“Shadow, down!” Pastor John gave a stern warning, as he stepped out onto the gray porch and crossed his arms. The dog dropped to all four feet and whimpered, lowering his head and walking back to his master, his tail no longer wagging.
“Sit down.” John pointed at the ground beside his feet. “That's no way to greet our guest.”
The dog plopped down into the exact spot with a pouting sigh.
“Sorry about that.” John grinned and slapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder when he reached the steps. “Hope I caught him before he caused any damage.”
“He's fine. I like dogs, and he knows it. I think he remembers me from my last visit.”
“Come on in.” John opened the door and waved him inside.
“I didn't know thee cooked.” The smell of chicken and dumplings teased his nose, mingled with the aroma of an apple pie. His tongue watered, and he gripped his rumbling stomach. He followed John through the living room and into the hallway.
“I don't. At least not well, but as a bachelor, I've learned to get by.” He stepped into the kitchen and motioned around the room. “But the Saferight ladies took pity on me and brought over some good food tonight.”
Flora turned from the counter and her blue-gray eyes met his as she carried two steaming bowls and set them down in front of two empty seats. Irene placed silverware around the table.
“I've heard about thy mother's good chicken and dumplings.” Bruce rubbed his hands in anticipation. “I'm looking forward to trying it.”
Flora straightened, her eyes piercing him with a glare as her hand flew to her slim hips. “I suppose thee will have to keep waiting.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Tonight we only have MY chicken and dumplings, and we all know how disappointing a meal by a foolhardy girl can be.”
“Flora?” Irene's eyes widened in surprise. “Thee doesn't sound like thyself.”
Lifting her chin in a testimony of defiance, Flora twisted her lips and turned to grab the other two steaming bowls waiting on the counter.
Bruce stood in place, realizing with trepidation how he must have sounded this morning. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and now he'd just insulted her again by not even giving her credit for having prepared the meal.
“Well, it smells delicious. I'm sure thy cooking is superb, since thee has learned from the best.” He forced a smile, hoping to lighten her mood. “I'm starved.”
A silver spoon crashed to the floor, splitting his ears. “I'm sorry.” Flora bent to retrieve it.
Irene cleared her throat and gestured to the chairs. “I made an apple pie for dessert. Go ahead, gentlemen, please have a seat.”
John pulled out a chair at the square table. Bruce took the seat opposite him, glancing in Flora's direction, but she ignored him as she poured water into cups. Irene set the cups on the table. She sat on his left and Flora on his right.
“Let's give thanks to the Lord.” John bowed his head. The two women followed his lead, as did Bruce. “Lord, we thank thee for the abundant meal we receive this night and for the friends gathered here. Give us wisdom. Help us to see thy plan and to follow thy g
uidance. In Jesus' name, amen.”
Everyone lifted their heads, and John looked around the table, his gaze shifting from Flora to Bruce. “Thanks for coming tonight. Go ahead and enjoy the meal, while I share the main reason we've all gathered.”
Bruce dipped his spoon and lifted a portion of chicken and a small dumpling. He shoved the bite into his mouth and savored the taste of tender meat and the soft chewy bread immersed in a buttery broth.
“Mmm…this is quite good.” The compliment rolled off his tongue.
No response followed. Unspoken tension filled the air, and he wondered if there would ever come a time when he would be able to reconcile his mistakes with Flora.
“Oh!” Flora jerked, jarring the table, and glared at Irene. Her pale cheeks struck a rosy glow that amused Bruce. “Um, I thank thee.”
It was a begrudging admission and one that Bruce assumed must have come from Irene's kick under the table. He grinned. How many times had he longed to do something similar when Flora wasn't behaving as he wanted her to?
“So, John,” he lifted his glass of water and forced his gaze upon their pastor, “tell us why we're here.”
“I have an important mission.” John leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and linking his fingers. “In a fortnight a slave couple will arrive, and I need someone to take them to Pennsylvania by way of Virginia. Since Flora and Irene already have an upcoming trip to Charlottesville, I thought it would be less suspicious if thee escorted them and the slave couple.”
“And Flora,” John turned to his left. “The slave girl is pregnant. We'll need thy midwife skills if anything goes wrong and she goes into early labor.”
Bruce stared at his pastor. Shock vibrated through his system. His jaw slackened and dropped open. How could he get out of this without offending anyone?
Flora sat still as disbelief pooled in her brain like a muddy swamp with no way out. Her pulse coursed through her body, pounding her limbs into numbness. The idea of being part of the Underground Railroad and doing something so meaningful for God thrilled her, but carrying the mission out with Bruce Millikan was impossible. They would kill each other, or worse, argue themselves into discovery, and then where would they be? Lives were at stake. No, this mission was too risky.
Path of Freedom: Quilts of Love Series Page 2
