Chapter 19

In Which Jemma Explains Cherry Pies and Railroads

June 29, 1860

Dear Nell,

I know you will not read this until you are back home in Chicago, but my heart is pounding to think how close you are to the Maple Tree in that fine city! I hope somehow you were able to find him, and that your next letter will be filled with news about how he is and what he’s doing.

It was interesting to hear about the “lemony notes” in your last letter. At first I thought you were talking about a “stoney melon,” but then I took some more time and figured out what you meant. I sure hope you were able to recover it.

When I told Mama where you were traveling, she dropped a whole platter of biscuits from the shock of it. And that was a real shame, since my sister and brother are like baby birds always chirping to be fed.

Mama’s biscuits are as good as ever, but I will tell you that I am catching up to her fast. I hope you do not think I’m proud like a peahen the way I go on about the things I am good at—like my penmanship and running faster than every lazy boy in town. But you should see my pies. They are so pretty to look at, since I can crisscross the crust on top. (It is not hard to do. The secret is to butter your fingers.) And to taste them? Just like Mama’s biscuits! You’d fall right onto the floor from the shock of how delicious they are.

Mama doesn’t know how much I’m thinking about the Maple Tree and all he’s doing. It would hurt her to know I might leave home someday. But I don’t have patience for all this waiting around. Why am I up here in Canada when there is so much work to do there? The way I see it, if my cooking is good and my writing is neat, I know I can join in the Maple Tree’s work when I find him.

There are folks who help people like us make it to Canada, where we can live free—as free as those blue herons we used to see at the pond together. They are called conductors, and the way they bring us here is called a railroad. Only it’s not the kind with wood and spikes that you can see and hear. It’s a quiet, secret kind.

That’s how me, Mama, and the babies made it to the place we live now, to Saint Catharines. It was through that Underground Railroad. And that’s what the Maple Tree is doing today in that fine city you’re visiting. He’s a conductor for that railroad.

This is not exactly a cipher, but still I hope you can understand my meaning. I am sorry that I cannot share more. Mama would be angry to know how much I’ve told you already. And I do not want to write down more in this letter, in case someone reads it who shouldn’t be reading it. I don’t know what I’d do if I put the Maple Tree in danger.

Mama has company visiting, and they’re asking for pie. So I better start slicing. I will write more later.

Your friend forever and ever,

Jemma