I am standing on a shoreline.

The tall man with deep brown skin in front of me hands a sack to the ferryman who eyes it warily. The ferryman checked our papers twice before letting Sam and Ruth step into his skiff, only handing them back after closely inspecting the signature and the raised wax seal. He hefts the sack up and down, testing the weight of it again, same as he had done back on the opposite shore.

Sam…No, we must call him Thomas now….He wears deep worry lines, unwilling to let his guard down while he’s wearing this free man’s skin. He squares his broad shoulders and looks down at the ferryman, his deep voice assuming a tone of authority when he thanks him for the ride.

As the ferryman tends to his boat and his lines, we all stand on the bank, staring across the water, back to the Maryland shores.

“We should go,” I hear myself whisper. “We should keep moving.”

Ruth adjusts her cap, making sure it covers her missing ear. She gathers up our belongings, slapping my hand away when I try to offer help. Maybe because she knows I’m exhausted from the burden I’m already carrying. Or maybe because she’s terrified the ferryman might grow suspicious. I let her carry the bundles, maybe to ease her mind. Or maybe because I am tired, all the way through to my bones. The black-and-white image seems to grow more muted and cloudy.

Sam and Ruth gather up the last of our supplies and walk briskly toward a trail up ahead, disappearing into a thick stand of trees, but I don’t turn away from the river. Not yet.

Instead, I lay a hand on the swell of my belly.

“You are strong,” I hear myself say, the words little more than a whisper in my head. “No matter where you are raised or what name you are given, you will endure. You will swim, you will dance, and you will love without fear. Nathaniel and Ruth and I…we will protect you. That, my child, is my promise to you.”

And with one last look back across the water, I close my eyes and Emmeline disappears.