These Tangled Threads

by Tracie Peterson

  Daughtie nodded and helped herself to a thick piece of the fruit-filled pastry. “I’ll eat it on the way. I promise to return your napkin,” she said, folding the checkered square cloth around the pie.

  Mrs. Arnold gave her a cheerful smile. “That’ll be fine,” the older woman replied as Daughtie rushed back down the hallway and out the front door.

  Fortunately, Ruth was nowhere to be seen. Either she was in Dr. Ketter’s office assisting him, or she’d gone upstairs. Regardless, Daughtie had been able to make her exit without an explanation or argument, and for that she was most thankful. The evening air was warm and thick with the scents of budding lilac and honeysuckle. She breathed deeply to enjoy the spring aroma as she hurried onward. Finally reaching Liam’s house, she raced up the front steps and knocked on the door, her heart pounding with excitement and fear.

  The door opened and Liam smiled down at her. “Come in.”

  “More runaway slaves?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Aye, but no babes,” he replied with a wan smile. “Only two lasses. The rest were restrained by their owners sometime yesterday.”

  “How many did they manage to recapture?”

  “Six—all men and lads. The girls are thinkin’ their owner quit searchin’ for them once he had the men back in his possession. They didn’t see any sign they were bein’ followed last night or today. I’ve got them hidden in the upstairs room. I was expectin’ them to arrive last night and feared something had gone wrong. And for sure, when the girls arrived, they were confirmin’ my fears. Doesn’t seem many of them are bein’ liberated,” Liam lamented.

  Daughtie could see the anguish in his expression and took his hand in her own. “I understand your feeling of helplessness, but we must remain positive and celebrate the fact that at least some of them are reaching freedom.”

  “I know ya’re right, but those poor girls are worried sick about their friends and family. They know what ’appens to runaways when they’re recaptured. And now I must pass along more bad news.”

  “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

  “These girls and the rest of their group were expected last night. I was to be deliverin’ them to me contact a short distance north of Lowell. When they didn’t appear, I met up with me contact to tell him of the situation. He said the group had likely been recaptured.”

  “And? Didn’t he realize they might only have been detained? Did he tell you what to do if they arrived?”

  Liam shook his head. “No. I should’ve been askin’, but I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He seemed nervous and was anxious to be goin’ on his way. Now I don’t know what I’m to do with these girls. I don’t know the proper route they’re to take, and there’s no man to travel along with them. The only instructions I’ve ever had were to either deliver them to their next contact or give instructions to the next safe house.”

  “Can’t you do that? Direct them to the next safe house?”

  “The safe houses change frequently. We’re given new instructions each time a group is expected. My house isn’t used every time runaways come this direction. It would be too risky for them to always move in the same direction and to use the same houses. So I’d be needin’ to have some assurance they’ll reach safety before I send them on.”

  “You’re right, of course,” she said as she began to wring her hands, attempting to contemplate their options. “I think we need to pray.”

  Liam’s eyes widened, apparently startled by her pronouncement. “Pray? Here? Now?”

  Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Yes, here and now.”

  “Ya’re beginnin’ to think ya shouldn’t be involved in such a thing as this, aren’t ya?”

  “No, not at all, but I am feeling as though we need divine intervention to find a solution. It’s clear neither of us knows what to do.”

  “ ’Tis true that a little help from above couldn’t hurt. I’m thinkin’ ya know more about what God might be wantin’ to hear, so you go ahead and pray. I’ll listen and agree,” he said with a grin.

  “There aren’t any set rules about prayer, Liam. God wants to hear whatever is in your heart; how we say it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Maybe so, but I’d still prefer you do the talkin’.”

  She nodded her agreement, bowed her head, and asked God to send them a plan, some resolution that would protect all of them.

  “That’s it?” he asked when she’d whispered a soft amen.

  “Did I forget something?”

  Liam wagged his head back and forth. “No. It’s just that your prayin’ was kind of simple.”

  “The Shakers taught me to be simple and direct; I carry that same concept into my prayers. I like to believe God appreciates the fact that He doesn’t have to sift through all the inconsequential words before getting to the heart of my supplications—not that He doesn’t already know my needs,” she added.

  “So if He already knows what ya’re needin’, why do ya pray?” Liam inquired.

  “Because God’s Word instructs us to pray. Even Jesus prayed to the Father.”

  Liam rubbed his forehead, a confused look in his eyes. “So ya pray in order to let God know ya’re doin’ what the Bible instructs, which is countin’ on Him to solve your problems, even though He already knows what’s goin’ on before ya pray?”

  Daughtie reflected on Liam’s statement for a moment. “God is certainly all-knowing. He could solve our problems without hearing our prayers, but He created man for communion. Prayer is our way to fellowship with God.”

  “I can understand the Almighty wantin’ to hear from a sweet lady like yarself, but why would He want to hear the blatherin’ of an ungodly Irishman?”

  “Because He loves you, Liam. It’s God’s fondest desire that every man love Him in return. God wants to bless all of our lives, but many refuse Him. They miss out on the wondrous gift of His love and protection. Isn’t that sad?”

  “Are ya tryin’ to make a point with me, lassie?”

  Giving him a gentle smile, Daughtie nodded. “I don’t want you to miss any of the blessings God has stored up for you, Liam. I know you’re a decent man, but doing good deeds and caring about others won’t gain you access into God’s kingdom.”

  He appeared puzzled by her words. “I thought that’s what godly people were supposed to be doin’—helpin’ the poor and downtrodden.”

  “Yes, of course they are. Good deeds are exactly that— a way of ministering to our fellow man. But that’s all they are—charitable acts, not a key to eternity with our Heavenly Father,” she explained.

  “What more am I to do?”

  “You must acknowledge that Jesus is the Son of God, confess your sins and ask His forgiveness, and invite Him into your life, Liam,” she explained.

  He remained silent for a moment and then slowly rubbed his jaw, appearing to contemplate her words. “I’ll be thinkin’ about what ya’ve said. Yar beliefs are a far cry from the peculiar ideas my mother adopted. Sometimes it’s hard to be knowin’ what to believe.”

  Daughtie nodded in agreement. “Exactly! Rather than accept what I’ve said here tonight, you need to search out the truth for yourself. Read your Bible. Pray. Seek God. He’ll reveal Himself and the truth of His Word to you, and then you can make a sound decision.”

  “How is it that such a young lass can be so wise?” he asked, his dark eyes reflecting the golden glow of the flames dancing in the fireplace.

  For a moment she felt mesmerized, captive to his unyielding gaze. A thump, immediately followed by the sound of breaking china, pulled her attention to the stairway. “The girls?” she inquired, looking back at Liam.

  “Sounds as though they’re having a bit o’ trouble. I’d best be checkin’ on them.”

  “May I go with you?” she asked. “I’d like to meet them.”

  “Of course,” he said, leading the way.

  Two dark-skinned girls, both attired in ragged dresses made from the white cotton known as Negro cloth, w
hich was produced in the Lowell mills, were on their knees gathering broken pieces of a hand-painted china bowl and water pitcher. Both gazed upward with a look of terror filling their large chocolate brown eyes.

  “It was an accident,” the older of the two explained in a shaky voice while inching herself in front of the younger girl. “It were my fault, Massa; you can whip me,” she continued.

  “There won’t be any whippin’ around this house,” Liam replied in a firm tone.

  “But I broke—”

  The younger girl peeked around from behind her companion. “She din do it—I did. You can whip me, but please don’ hurt her,” she pleaded.

  “I’ve never seen folks so anxious to take a whippin’. There’s nothin’ in this house that can’t be replaced or repaired, so don’t concern yourselves over a broken piece of china. Just be careful you don’t cut yourself,” he said while pointing toward a shard of the porcelain.

  “Thank you, suh,” they replied in unison.

  Daughtie stepped forward. “I’m Daughtie Winfield, a friend of Mr. Donohue. We’re hoping to find a safe place for you girls to call home.”

  “I’m Minerva, and this here be my sister, Nelly. Ain’t we goin’ on up north ter Canada?” the older girl asked.

  Liam squatted down in front of the girls. “Here’s the problem. The two of you can’t make it on your own all the way to Canada, and I don’t know when another group of runaways may be passin’ through that I could be sendin’ you with. I can’t risk keepin’ you here too long, and yet I can’t just send you off without havin’ a place arranged for you to go.”

  “Can’t we move on ter de next station? We’ll keep a lookout fo the signal.”

  “What signal?” Daughtie asked.

  “A single candle in the window,” Liam replied before turning his attention back to the girls. “You’d be travelin’ at least twenty miles, and even if ya found the signal, I don’t know the password. That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to explain. We missed our connection last night. We’re goin’ to try and devise another plan.”

  Daughtie gave them a confident smile. “We’ve been praying for God to send us the perfect answer.”

  “Den we’ll pray, too,” Minerva said.

  “Oh, that would be most helpful. With all of us praying, I’m certain God’s going to send us a magnificent solution. You should be careful to remain hidden when Mr. Donohue’s gone from the house. Don’t answer the door, and don’t burn a candle upstairs. Folks around here know Mr. Donohue lives alone,” she instructed and then turned back toward Liam, who was grinning at her. “I should take my leave. I’m sure Ruth will be questioning me concerning my whereabouts since I told her I had errands to complete. Why are you grinning at me? Have I said something to amuse you?”

  “Your orders to the girls—I gave them all that information when they arrived,” he replied, escorting her down the hallway.

  “Oh! Would you extend my apologies to them?” she asked, her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

  “I doubt they were upset over your reminder.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Any special orders for me?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance, uncertain if he was toying with her. “Be certain you keep to your normal routine so you don’t arouse suspicion,” she warned. “And pray,” she hastily added as he opened the front door for her.

  “I think I can remember all of that,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Even if you should forget everything else, don’t forget to pray—that’s the most important of my instructions.” She stared up into his eyes, remembering the night he’d kissed her on the cheek outside the boardinghouse. She wondered now if that had just been a passing kindness—a tenderness because she’d talked of her loneliness. Her own feelings for him seemed to spill out from her heart and into her every thought. If only she could be sure of what he was feeling— thinking.

  Liam leaned down, and before she realized his intent, she felt the softness of his lips upon her cheek. “Good night, Daughtie. And thank you for your help.”

  “You . . . you’re welcome,” she stammered.

  She headed toward home, her fingers touching the spot Liam had kissed, her heart thumping in wild delight.

  It was nearly eight-thirty when Daughtie returned home—early enough Ruth ought not quiz her at length, but late enough that Dr. Ketter’s patients would be gone. Hopefully he wouldn’t see her come in.

  “There you are!” Ruth exclaimed.

  Daughtie turned toward the parlor, where Ruth sat with her hands neatly folded atop her lap.

  “You went sneaking off without so much as a word, and now you’ve missed all the excitement.” There was no mistaking the smugness in Ruth’s voice.

  “What have I missed?” Daughtie inquired.

  “Bella has returned from England and sent word for you to come and visit her tonight. Their ship docked yesterday, and they returned to Lowell by canal boat early this evening.”

  “Oh, that’s marvelous!” Daughtie exclaimed, turning again for the door. “I’ll be back after a while.”

  Daughtie hurriedly made her way to Bella’s and knocked at the front door. She waited several anxious moments before it swung open. “Bella!” Daughtie greeted, pulling her friend into a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Bella returned the embrace and then led Daughtie into the parlor. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming— or that you hadn’t received my message.”

  Daughtie sat down on the overstuffed settee. “I left the house before your message arrived. I came as soon as I heard you’d returned. I want to hear all about the wonderful places you visited.”

  Bella giggled. “I haven’t enough time to even begin telling you of the wondrous sights we visited in the short time before you must return to the boardinghouse. We’ll have to save that for a lengthy visit after church on Sunday. But I couldn’t wait to tell you of the excitement that occurred on board ship. However, the story really begins before we left England,” she said, taking time to explain about John’s kidnapping and William Thurston’s connection to the incident.

  Daughtie clasped a hand over her mouth. “So William Thurston is alive and well, living in England?”

  “He was. As I told you, by the time we boarded the ship, Uncle John had already escaped and was hiding on the ship. Then, lo and behold, he spotted William Thurston on board. In fact, Mr. Thurston, whom we believe was searching for Uncle John, pushed John out of the way thinking him to be no one of importance—since he was dressed like a sailor. We set sail before Thurston disembarked.”

  “Oh, my! What a turn of events!” Daughtie exclaimed.

  “And that’s not the worst of it. Taylor went to the captain with the arduous task of explaining the situation. Fortunately, the captain believed him and agreed to take Thurston into custody before we docked in Boston.”

  “I am so very thankful to hear that evil man is going to be held accountable for his crimes. And Ruth will be elated to hear the good news. She’s always harbored anger that William Thurston was the one who planned all of the kidnappings and yet slipped away before receiving punishment,” Daughtie said.

  “That’s just it—he’s escaped once again.”

  “What? How did that happen?”

  “When Taylor and the captain went to Thurston’s cabin to place him in shackles, he was missing. The sailors searched the ship, but to no avail. John has offered a reward and is hopeful some of the crew will continue the search— at least until they set sail back to England.”

  “How disappointing. Do you think he’s still on board the ship? Surely he would want to return to England rather than remain a hunted man in the United States.”

  “I’m not certain. Uncle John is hopeful he’ll be captured and brought to trial, but I fear he’s managed to slip away again. But enough of this gloomy talk. I’ve more news to share.”

  “What else happened?”

  “We brought Taylor’s sister
Elinor home to live with us!”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. It was getting a bit much for her grandparents to continue to care for her, so they decided we would be the best candidates to raise her.”

  “Well, that’s very exciting and scary all at once, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is. I want to introduce you to her and tell you all about our journey. Do say you’ll come to church with us on Sunday and join us afterward for the noonday meal.”

  Daughtie hesitated a moment, her mind racing. “I’ll try,” she said.

  The smile faded from Bella’s lips. “Try? Have you more important plans?” she asked, obvious disappointment in her voice.

  “I may be needed to assist some friends,” she hedged.

  Bella arched her eyebrows. “You’re keeping something from me, Daughtie Winfield. What is it?”

  “What makes you think I’m keeping secrets?”

  “Because you’ve been my dearest friend since the day I arrived at the Shaker village in Canterbury. I know you almost as well as I know myself. You may as well take me into your confidence, for you surely realize I’ll give you no peace until I know what’s going on,” Bella replied. And then, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, Bella grasped Daughtie’s hands in her own. “Does this have something to do with Liam Donohue?” When Daughtie didn’t immediately answer, Bella squeezed her hands. “I’ve guessed correctly, haven’t I? I can see it in your eyes.”

  Daughtie’s voice caught in her throat. “It’s not what you think,” she argued, her voice raspy.

  “Then tell me,” Bella insisted. “You know I’ve always kept your confidences.”

  “Runaway slaves,” Daughtie whispered. “We’re helping runaway slaves.”

  Bella clasped a hand across her mouth. “You’re placing yourself in extreme danger.”

  “Given the opportunity, you’d do the same thing.”

  “Perhaps,” Bella conceded. “Give me the particulars— who else is involved? How did this all begin? All you said in your letters was that you had attended an antislavery meeting.”