Path of Freedom: Quilts of Love Series

by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and headed toward the arched stables to the left. Cattle called from the distant pasture. Bruce grinned, feeling peace ease back into his soul. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he approached the wide threshold. His feet pressed into the packed dirt of the stable yard.

  If he was truthful with himself, he didn't like the idea of Flora being with some doctor in Virginia, and the thought of another man leading them on the mission had turned his stomach into knots. A jolt of realization seized him, and he paused, peering into the shadows of the rows of stalls on each side. If he craved Flora's affection for himself, he was doomed to disappointment. She hated him. Cold fear slithered up his spine, his momentary peace gone with one simple thought.

  One of the horses neighed and flicked his tail. Bruce set about refilling the feed at each stall and pouring fresh water. Once the chore of feeding the horses was complete, he lit a lantern and approached the final stall on the left, where his new machine was stored. He hung the lantern on a nearby peg and looked over the field reaper machine he'd been working on since his last mission.

  “Son, I think I know why thee doesn't want Silas to go with thee.” Eli's voice echoed through the barn.

  Bruce glanced around the stall wall. His father strolled toward him. He walked with a determined gait, an expression of fatherly concern in his wise hazel eyes. Eli Millikan stroked his gray beard in thoughtful contemplation, a look Bruce had come to recognize as a sign he was about to be questioned.

  “I might have overreacted. He can come along if he wants.” Bruce hoped his quick agreement would end the subject.

  “Why does thee struggle with getting along with Flora?” Father angled his head and met Bruce's gaze. “The Saferights are a good and respectable family. Flora and Irene have been raised well and are fine young ladies. It may be that God's will for thee and Flora is to put thy past aside and start a fresh new relationship with complete forgiveness and acceptance.”

  “I'd like that. Really, I would.” Bruce walked around the reaper and bent to access the bottom rollers. “She says a doctor in Virginia wants her to come work with him as a midwife and be his helper.”

  “A doctor?”

  “Yes, she has her sights on some doctor who lives near her cousins in Charlottesville. I don't think she's planning on staying in Greensboro to be an asset around here.”

  “And that upsets thee?”

  “No.” Why did his father always have to be so direct? Bruce sighed. “It will seem strange here without her. And what if she doesn't like it there?” Bruce gripped the iron jaws that gathered hay and wiggled them—sturdy with no breaks. Then he checked the chain on the pulley. One of the links was rusted. Maybe that was the reason it kept getting stuck.

  “She can always come back,” Father said, leaning over him.

  “I think I found the problem,” Bruce said, changing the subject. “Looks like I'll have to replace this link in the chain with one that isn't so rusted to keep the kinks out of it when the machine pulls it through.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Father said.

  “Does it involve more humiliation on my part?” Bruce backed out from under the machine and rubbed the muddy rust from his palms.

  “No, but is thee too prideful to suffer a little humiliation?” His father stepped back, allowing him room to check other parts on the machine.

  “Believe me, Flora has made sure I've had some moments with my share of it. She has a tongue sharp enough for a double-edged sword.” Bruce shook his head with a grin. “She's the only person who can make me lose my head and temper. Yesterday I called her foolhardy, and I don't know why I did it. I only meant to tease her, but I guess it didn't come out that way.”

  “I see.” Father chuckled. “I take it she's not too pleased with thee.”

  “That's an understatement.” Bruce looked away as heat climbed his neck and face. “She doesn't want to go on the mission because of me.” A dull ache burdened his chest. The knowledge made him feel like he'd already failed the Lord and everyone else.

  “She'll come around.” Father patted Bruce's shoulder. “Thee just might have to visit and apologize.”

  Apologize?

  The thought sent a wave of nausea to Bruce's gut. A rushing headache pierced the back of his head. His apologies hadn't gone so well in the past. Instead of graciously accepting his regret, she'd ended up insulting him out of anger and stomping away.

  “I wish it were that simple. Flora is a grudge holder, and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me.”

  “Perhaps thee should view this trip as an opportunity to prove thee can be trustworthy again,” Father said. “Just think about it. Guess I'll go on back and leave thee to finish working on thy machine.”

  “Hope to have it back up and running by this afternoon.” Bruce rapped his knuckles on the side of his hand-built machine. Once he fixed the link in the chain, he would hook it up to a horse and test it out.

  “Good,” his father said while walking away. “Then thee will have time to visit Flora Saferight tomorrow and make things right.”

  Bruce took a deep breath, not ready to commit to such a daunting task. “I think I'll wait till Sunday. She might be in a better mood at Meeting after prayer and meditation on God's word.”

  He hoped.

  Sunday morning Flora sat on the hard wooden benches on the fifth row beside her mother and Irene at Centre Friends Meeting. Her father had settled on the opposite side of the aisle with the men.

  She loved Sunday meetings, where she got a chance to see and talk to friends she couldn't visit with during the week. It was a time to reflect on God's word, pray, and fellowship with friends.

  Pastor John Allred walked down the center aisle toward the front, where a long table sat against the pine wall. In the middle of the simple oak table stood a hand-carved wooden cross with two lit candles on each side. At the far right side of the table sat Elizabeth Osbourne with a feather quill in hand and a bottle of ink next to her book of recordings. Throughout the Meeting, she would record all the discussions. The sanctuary grew silent out of respect as all eyes turned toward the front.

  “I would like to read a scripture from Leviticus 19:18,” Pastor John said. “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”

  He paused, allowing them to meditate on the scripture he'd read. Flora contemplated the word grudge. Forgiveness was something she had learned to give as a young girl, but she didn't see the point in putting herself back into the clutches of a friend who couldn't be trusted. An image of Bruce Millikan came to mind. She didn't dare look over her shoulder. Earlier she had seen him arrive with his family and had tried to avoid eye contact.

  Even if she had forgiven him for his past deeds, she hadn't forgotten them. Resentment filled her heart at the thought of him. Did that mean she still harbored a grudge against Bruce Millikan?

  Lord, please forgive me.

  It was a sin from the heart. Tears of guilt stung Flora's eyes. The last thing she wanted was to be disobedient to God. Her dislike of Bruce had almost cost her the chance to do the Lord's work on this mission. She didn't want anything holding her back from doing God's will and helping others.

  Flora bowed her head and concentrated on her plight. She could let go of past wrongs, but feared letting her guard down and being caught unaware by new hurts. How could she trust a man who had just called her foolhardy only a few days ago? It wasn't a childhood jibe. She truly believed that Bruce Millikan thought her foolish.

  Pastor John's voice broke the silence. He prayed aloud for their community. Flora let his voice fade into the background as she whispered a silent prayer of her own.

  One by one other friends prayed aloud or shared an enlightening experience as they felt led. Afterwards the congregation received a new family who had transferred from another Virginia Quaker church. A woman was disowned for marrying outside the Quaker faith. Friend Elizab
eth dipped her quill. It scratched against the paper as she raced to record all the details.

  Pastor John announced a wedding that would take place in three months and informed the congregation that Widow Hodgson had suffered a stroke and could use some assistance around her house. Once his announcements were finished, he bowed in closing prayer and dismissed everyone with a brief nod and smile.

  Conversations buzzed around them, and people stood. Some lingered in further discussions while others filed into the aisle and out of the building.

  “That was quite refreshing,” Mother said with a contented sigh. “Now I believe the afternoon meal will do us all some good.”

  “I agree.” Irene touched her middle. “My stomach rumbled so loud I thought for sure everyone would hear it.”

  “If thee had taken time to break thy fast, then thee might not feel so famished.” Mother glanced over her shoulder, her gaze drifting past Flora to Irene.

  “I only wanted to look presentable,” Irene said, lowering her voice, drawing out each syllable as if she were tempted to whine.

  “Thy vanity is starting to concern me,” Mother said. “I believe this trip will do thee some good. Nothing like a little humbleness and a charitable deed for someone else to bring one back to reality.”

  They stepped into the aisle, smiling and greeting others, inching their way to the back door leading outside. A few moments later, bright sunshine greeted them along with a slight breeze that Flora welcomed. With the church building located on a hill, they were able to view the other families in various conversational groups or making their way to their country wagons and black carriages.

  “Where could thy father have gone?” Mother shielded her eyes. “I see him. He's over by the graveyard. Visiting our three babies, no doubt.”

  “Go on and join him.” Flora touched her mother's arm. “I need to speak with someone.”

  “I believe I shall.” Mother patted her hand and moved off in that direction.

  “What about me?” Irene asked.

  “Thee is welcome to come witness me humble myself or thee can go visit with one of thy school friends.”

  “I believe thy humbleness will be much more entertaining.” Irene's lips twitched.

  “I figured thee would see it that way.” Flora nodded in the opposite direction. “Come on.”

  With her heart outpacing her, Flora set off down the hill to where the Millikans were preparing their carriage on the side of the dirt road. Eli Millikan adjusted the harness and reins around the family's two horses. Holly Millikan was the first to notice their approach. A smile lit her face, and she hurried toward them, her hands outstretched in greeting.

  Nearing sixty, Friend Holly's silver hair framed her face beneath her black bonnet. Her brown eyes held a deep regard and warmth that gave Flora encouragement. Thin lines etched her eyes and mouth without detracting from her looks, but rather enhancing her years of wisdom. Hers was a comforting expression that made one want to confide in her.

  Warm hands gripped Flora's and then reached out to welcome Irene as well. “Good to see thee this morning. I'm so glad I got a chance to greet thee both.” She squeezed Flora's hand in emphasis.

  “Indeed,” Flora nodded. “I hope thee is doing well?”

  “I am.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Although I had hoped to have my Bruce home a little longer before he set out on one of those dangerous missions again. I've put him in the Lord's hands, but a mother still worries.” She lowered her eyes and shook her head as if ashamed that she couldn't help worrying.

  “I understand.” Flora's heart filled with compassion, and she rubbed Holly's arm. “If I had a son, I'd feel the same way.”

  “Oh, Friend Flora, now I shall worry about thee as well. And thee, too, Irene.” She glanced from her to Irene. “But I do have one small favor to ask.”

  “Anything,” Flora said, nodding.

  “Will thee make sure my Bruce eats well? I fear he lost too much weight on his last mission and there weren't two nice young ladies such as thyselves to feed him.”

  “On that score, I believe I can put thy mind at ease.” Flora gave her hand a reassuring pat. “I'll make sure he eats plenty.”

  Bruce and Silas walked up and greeted them with wide grins. Bruce walked with assurance and Silas with a nonchalant swagger.

  “We were thinking of calling on thee,” Silas said. “Perhaps this afternoon will do? The weather is perfect for a buggy ride after the midday meal.”

  “I promised Mother I'd help her cook the midday meal and then we must can some of the vegetables for winter.” Flora glanced at her sister, who was gazing up at Silas with wide, admiring eyes. “I thank thee, but perhaps Irene would?”

  “I'd love to,” Irene said, her face flushing a pink as bright as their spring garden roses.

  “Friend Bruce, may I speak with thee about the mission?” Flora asked, pinning her gaze upon him before she lost her newfound courage.

  His eyebrows rose and his lips dropped into a frown.

  “In private?” Her chest beat like a drum against her ribcage. “Please?”

  “Excuse me.” He nodded to the others and stepped away with her.

  They walked down the road side by side. As the silence lengthened, their arms grazed. Warmth flooded her. She imagined her face turning the same color as Irene's had a moment earlier.

  “Flora, I know thee didn't want to go on a stroll. What's on thy mind?”

  His tone wasn't unkind, but it was inquisitive. She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. I just wasn't sure where to begin.” She stopped and glanced up into his green eyes. His reddish-blond hair was combed gently over to the side of his forehead beneath his black hat. His oblong face now fitted his man's frame very nicely. Irene was right. Bruce Millikan had turned out to be very handsome indeed.

  “Flora?” He leaned forward, his gaze searching hers in concern.

  “I'm sorry…for not forgiving thee as I should.” She scratched her eyebrow and brushed a strand of hair aside. Her fingers trembled, and she hoped he hadn't noticed. “When I heard the scripture this morning, I realized I don't want to be a grudge holder or have unforgiving thoughts linger in my heart. I want to be obedient to the Lord. Please know that I forgive thee and will not begrudge thee for thy past.”

  “I'm sorry, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground. “I was hoping we could come to some kind of truce for the success of this mission. In spite of what thee must think of me, I've a sincere desire to serve the Lord and see slavery abolished, and I'll do anything in my power to help the cause of freedom.”

  “That's why I've come to admire thee so much.” She offered a smile, hoping she wouldn't come to regret those words.

  “Does this mean thee is willing to follow my lead in the wilderness? I don't want thee feeling like I'm bossy, but I need to know I can depend on thee.”

  “Bruce Millikan, I'll always speak my mind. If I don't agree with thee, I'll tell thee. I do not blindly follow any man.” She took another deep breath. “But I promise to consider thy viewpoint if I'm tempted to defy thee.”

  A week later, Bruce rode up to Pastor John's house. The slave couple, Marta and Jim, had arrived with a Quaker from South Carolina on his way to market. Unable to stay, the man dropped them off and headed back south.

  Bruce tethered his horse to a tree in the front yard. The Saferight's wagon was also parked out front. He walked around the side of the house toward the brown barn, where he heard voices. Flora laughed at something. The hearty sound lifted his mood. He hadn't known what to expect the next time he saw her. After her genuine confession at Meeting on Sunday, he couldn't help wondering if she would change her mind once she had more time to reflect on her decision.

  His respect for her had risen a notch. He still wasn't convinced that she was the most experienced midwife for this mission, but it seemed he had been overruled on that matter. Now he would just have to make the best of it, and he had no doubt he could
do so with the Lord's assistance.

  Shadow barked, running out to greet him. Bruce smiled and bent to rub the dog between the ears. The excited animal circled him, shaking his tail in approval.

  “Good to see thee.” Pastor John stepped out from the shade of the barn entrance and extended his hand. Flora followed with her sister, Irene, and both her parents. They all nodded with greeting smiles. Bruce took John's hand in a firm grip and then shook Will Saferight's hand.

  “Allow me to introduce thee to Marta and Jim. They arrived last night,” John said, stepping aside and gesturing to a young black couple.

  Marta didn't look much older than fourteen or fifteen. She gazed up at him with hazel eyes, a mixture of hope and trepidation lingering in her expression. He imagined she didn't trust people very easily. Her round belly protruded from a thin, malnourished frame in a ragged gray dress. Bruce swallowed in discomfort, wondering how she'd made it this far. Her frizzy black hair had escaped a single braid as if she had been through a difficult trip.

  Blinking back a bit of moisture and swallowing his compassion, he offered a smile. “Glad to meet thee, Marta. I'm looking forward to helping thee.”

  Next, he glanced at the man standing beside her. His skin was much darker than Marta's, and he stood a few inches taller than Bruce. His dark eyes held a hard glint as he assessed Bruce, looking him up and down.

  “Glad to meet thee as well, Jim.” Bruce offered his hand.

  Jim stared as if he wasn't sure he wanted to touch it. He scratched the side of his head, covered with bushy hair. Something flickered in his eyes, and he tilted his long face, giving Bruce a better view of his wide nose and full lips.

  In an awkward silence, Bruce started to pull his hand back when Jim finally extended his in a sure handshake. That's when Bruce noticed that a “W” had been branded into the skin rippling over a muscular upper arm. He followed Bruce's gaze and grinned.

  “A gift from my mastah, Mr. Wheaton. He brands all his property.”