Chapter Six

As Early aired out the adjoining room to Missy's for Aunt 'Tilda, she hummed a sweet spiritual she had learned from her mother. Her beloved parent had experienced no fear when she had to cross over Jordan. She didn't have to cross alone because she loved the Lord Jesus and made sure that Early and Missy knew all about Him. I may be a dying but it's just to this old earth. You two darling girls better let Jesus know you're His so I can see you over there in heaven. Early smiled at the memories as she pulled back the covers for Aunt 'Tilda's feather bed and hummed another verse of the comforting song.

Dread shook Early as she looked toward the door and saw a sober Sidney watching her every movement from across the room. She averted her eyes and looked around the bedroom for something to use for protection. Her thoughts proved unnecessary, as Aunt 'Tilda swept into the room in a cloud of lavender scent. Barging past the startled young man, she placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him from the room with a huff. Snapping the door closed, she grinned at Early's gaping mouth.

"If I'm not mistaken, that young scallywag needs to learn some manners. Now, young lady, let me help you puff up these pillows a little bit."

"Stuff and bother, Early. It may be your job but there's no law that says I can't help out some with a few chores, is there?"

"Maybe not where you're from, ma'am, but I'm not sure about around here anymore—that is unless you're someone special like Missy is to me." Early almost hesitated to speak so boldly to the older woman, but seeing how she commanded openness from others, she couldn't resist the opportunity to talk freely with the matron, who already pushed around the feathers in an overstuffed pillow.

"We're almost like sisters—that is, except for the color of our skin. Most days we don't even stop to think about it, but lately I've been noticing...." Early's thoughts drifted off as she cast a quick look at the observant woman and wondered if she had said too much.

"It's all right, lass. I won't tell anyone your thoughts. I'm very much opposed to slavery and there are many people up north, and here in the South, who think just like me. Slavery never took hold in the hill country where my husband and I lived. I was happy to leave plantation life behind when I married my Frederick. Now look at me up close. I want to see those eyes of yours gazing proudly at the world." Aunt 'Tilda's own hazel eyes seemed to probe the very depths of Early's soul as she held the younger woman's chin. The aunt appeared to be searching for a missing clue to something. Discomfort filled Early as she shifted her gaze to the floor.

Awkwardly, Early slipped away from 'Tilda's hands and grabbed another pillow to fluff.

"She was a good woman. She raised Missy and me together here in this very room. It used to be the nursery and Mama filled it with enough love for both of us to share."

"Not really. I don't recall exactly what happened to Missy's real mother, but the story coming from one of my friends in the kitchen said she might have died of a broken heart. All I know is that for as long as I can remember it was just the three of us, like a cozy little family."

"No, Mama never talked about him. She only wanted me to know my Heavenly Father so I could go to the good place someday. I always wondered about my earthly father, though. I would have liked my papa to have been as nice as Papa Hollings has been to Missy."

'Tilda harrumphed instead of adding to the conversation. A perplexed expression crossed her face as she took another look at Early. "At least you seem to have escaped the worst ravages of slavery through some kind of Fatherly providence."

"I pray to my heavenly Father every day, ma'am." Early smoothed the bed covering and stepped away. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yes dear, I should like some writing materials. I need to answer some correspondence."

Early opened the doors to the small secretary where Missy secretly taught her to write, when the room housed the nursery. She folded down the desk table, revealing a collection of papers, feathered quills, and blackberry ink in a corked bottle. Seeing no evidence of her own or Missy's writing efforts, she sighed in relief and waved Aunt Matilda toward the writing implements.

"Thank you, ma'am, I mean Aunt 'Tilda, uh, Matilda." Early giggled and made her way to the door.

"And Early, if that young man wandering the halls bothers you again, let me know."

Holly Plantation

April 1858

Dear Mary Etta,

The matter of the girls is indeed pressing. The family resemblance is remarkable and undeniable evidence that we do have two nieces. They must have hidden the other girl away when I saw Melissa as a child. I hope Arthur has enough sense left in him to let us carry out a plan. I dare say before this year is over, we will need to make use of your guest rooms at Woodson House, including the hidden one that reminds me of our childhood adventures here at the plantation's dragon den. You were smart to include that memorable place in your reconstruction of our old home.

Both of our nieces have matured into beautiful women, from their hazel eyes down to the dimples in their cheeks. Their Hollings' heritage is strong and I fear that the new stepson has designs toward both young women. If we do not rescue them from the situation sometime this summer I fear for their purity. So far they have been sheltered from the storms of this world but that will soon change one way or the other.

I am looking forward to joining your family in the near future. I already sent two trunks your way for safe keeping. All of my other belongings are a gift for the farm's new owner. I sold my Winston County, Alabama land to a good free man and his family. I pray they will see many harvests but the land isn't as productive as Arthur's here in plantation country. The Winston County neighbors have taken a stand against the slavery that surrounds less hilly counties. Should rumors of a war over slavery ever come to fruition, I fear for the safety of my former neighbors who would surely side with the North.

Our niece Melissa has a talent for poetry and she has developed a dislike for slavery, a curse that keeps her in buttons and bows. It seems that your husband's nephew made quite the appeal for the abolition movement while he visited her at the wedding. Her eyes seem to hold a certain sparkle when she speaks of the young man. I hope he is worthy of her gentle spirit. She has drawn enough courage to write several poems that he might be able to use in his efforts. I am enclosing some of her verses with my letter. She lives in fear that her words may be intercepted if she attempts to communicate on her own. I see that her fears may indeed be rooted in reality as I observe Amanda and Sidney.

Please offer daily prayers for me as I deal with Arthur and his new family. I must say I have enjoyed meeting with the youngest members of the Hollings family tree, our sweet nieces.

Your loving sister,

Matilda Hollings McCallum

Samuel shifted on his feet as the woman in front of him read most of her letter aloud. Having the post office in his print shop often proved interesting when customers shared their news. Most epistles didn't affect him personally. His Aunt Mary Etta frequently shared any family news with him, but this time her letter concerned the young woman whose image kept appearing in his daydreams. He had pushed her visage out of his thoughts many times since his return to Forest Glen.

The southern belle should mean nothing to him. She stood in total opposition to all that he believed in. She would never measure up to his Rebecca, who had worked hard to provide a warm home for their little family. Too bad his sweetheart had died in childbirth a year after their young marriage had begun. He had no plans for marrying again, especially to a helpless plantation girl. She probably didn't have enough sense to realize that the maid who did all her work was clearly her own flesh and blood. Would she even care if she knew? There was enough heartache in the world. His thoughts shouldn't even connect spoiled Missy Hollings with marriage. He could use the excuse that she was a cousin but Aunt Mary Etta had made it clear that the two shared no blood lines. She'd even winked and declared his uncle had survived quite well married to a Southern gal. Regardless, the call to serve others, through his newspaper and by traveling the South with information for those who wanted freedom, filled his life.

"Are you listening? Samuel?" Mary Etta pushed papers against his chest. A whiff of lavender emanated from the sheets along with a hint of inky berries. The curly penmanship further identified the writer as female, the shape of the worded forms poetic. So, she had actually risen to his challenge. He sank against his desk, set the personal letter aside and browsed the poetry. The message in the poems touched his hardened soul. He closed his eyes, looked heavenward, and prayed for strength to resist the woman while using her poems for good.

Early glanced up at the sky and couldn't resist filling her lungs with the night air as she took in the blanket of stars dotting God's dark blue heavens. A half moon partially lit the sky as sparkling patterns of stars wove a tapestry across the dark expanse. Could that big gourd in the heavens truly be a map to freedom or was it just a fairy tale like the ones she had heard when Missy’s tutors were trying to teach the young mistress how to read?

The life she knew with Missy had begun to feel more and more like a work of fiction since Sidney had entered their little world. Over the course of the spring season she'd come to believe men could be both dangerous and confusing. Shaking her head at her wandering thoughts, she quickly stepped into the servants' necessary and took care of her business before beginning her trek toward the back entrance to the basement room where she should be sleeping. Amanda recently discovered her sleeping arrangements with Missy and had sent her back to the cellar. Nellie now slept on the outside of their bed while Early slept against the wall. The older woman's snores had awakened Early's urge to visit the outhouse. Too bad they didn't have a chamber pot like the one in Missy's room.

Distracted by a lightning bug, Early almost missed a shadow that passed by the side of the house. However, there was no missing the twanging voice as Sidney sang an off-tune sonnet. His shadow faded into the reality of the man behind the singing. Fearing discovery, Early stepped between the barn and a shed. Strong, warm arms pulled her further into the darkness, no longer lit by the moon. She stiffened in fear.

"It's all right, Early. I won't let him find you, so don't you dare scream." George felt the tense woman begin to relax in his arms so he loosed his hold. He instantly missed her warmth but knew it was a wiser choice to release her. He stepped back and motioned for her to follow him further between the buildings. Reaching for her hand seemed the right thing to do as he led the way to the far side of the buildings. He second-guessed his action, as a warm tingle seemed to stretch through their connection. Dropping her hand almost as fast as he had taken it, he paused to listen to the commotion occurring at the back entrance to the house.

"It's about time somebody let me in. I was out admiring the sights and couldn't seem to find what I was looking for." The crash of a wash pan falling off the back steps was followed by Moses' quiet voice as he encouraged the young master to make his way to bed.

Early's chattering teeth filled the air and touched something buried deep within George's heart. He closed the gap between them that he had so recently opened. Pulling her shaking body close to his brought him a sense of homecoming, and with a sigh, he leaned closer and tucked her head under his chin. Early's wavering seemed to increase, so he reached under her chin and gently brought her face up toward his own.

Tear-filled eyes met his as their faces grew closer and closer. "I'm scared, George."

"Me too, Early." Afraid to share a kiss, afraid of the dangerous young man, afraid to leave this woman or take her with him on a dangerous trip to freedom... His lips almost brushed hers as a hiss sounded from a shadowed figure on the walkway to the necessary. Early's head turned to the side. Loss, fear, and relief swirled deep within George's chest.

"Psssst. Early, is that you back there between the sheds? It's safe now." Missy's sharp whisper caused the couple to step further apart. Instead of a warm kiss, he laid a warning finger upon Early's lips before he faded away into the darkness. Her eyes looked in his direction before she stepped toward her mistress and grabbed her hand. The two young women, in silent accord, hurried back toward the shadowed mansion. Missy would take care of her for now. But, for how long?

George watched the twosome emerge into the light streaming from a lantern Missy's aunt held high from where she stood on the back stoop. His heartbeat began to return to normal. What had he been thinking? He couldn't get involved with the pampered young miss who didn't know her place in this harsh world. All too soon, something was going to happen to her—something he couldn't control. Reality would rear its angry head and throw her to the ground. When he left, the stampede of slavery would trample her to the ground. He wouldn't be able to save her. It was probably better that he left, rather than be here to see what evils lay ahead for the innocent woman.

Spring became more evident every day and whispered talk about the possible return of a Moses or railroad to freedom grew with intensity among the people who lived down in the quarters where he and Old John slept. It was only by the grace of God that he had wandered out of the building tonight and happened upon Early fleeing from the peril of the drunken young man.

He had stepped out under the starlit sky to see if the Ohio man's compass really did point to the north. He fingered the treasure in his pocket and held it out in the moonlight to see if its pointer worked. The arrow spun and then pointed toward the North Star. Satisfied with the direction it gave, he dropped it back into its hidden pocket. He would stitch it back into place before going to sleep, if he didn't hear the call to leave tonight.

His trek into the dark to take in the beloved dipper and the star that pointed to the north had led to Early's safety. Perhaps God watched out for her after all. The Lord had not come to his rescue when his former master tore his family apart. Perhaps God only cared for this woman out of some twist of luck, but not for the likes of a barn slave. It seemed like household slaves had better luck than the rest of them.

Staring up into the vast, clear sky, George couldn't help but be amazed at the expanse that he had once acknowledged as God's handiwork. Deep down in his soul, he knew God existed. He just resented a Heavenly Father who took away his earthly parents. He knew he should be praying about the confusing woman and her safety. He struggled to leave her in the Lord's hands as he prepared to escape to freedom. He searched the sky for answers. Though nothing appeared except the brightly twinkling stars, a peace filled his whole being as the spring night returned to normal with quiet cricket chirps and a distant hoot of a barn owl. George listened as the owl called again, sounding almost human. Instead of going to check the source of the sound, he turned toward the house and then made his way to bed.