When Adria left the store after work, she looked around. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or disappointed when she didn’t see Logan Farrell stepping out of some doorway or shadow to join her on the walkway. She had to admit she was attracted to him, but at the same time she was sure a sensible girl would run the other direction at the first sight of him.
She had intended to go to church, but several customers right at quitting time kept her late. Then she had counted the money collected for Louis. She could hardly believe they had enough to purchase Louis’s freedom even without whatever had been collected at the church. Some had been left at the bank too. Perhaps enough to help Louis get started on a life of freedom.
She couldn’t quit smiling as she put the money back in the safe. In the morning, Pastor Robertson could take the money to the hotel to purchase Louis. He’d be free after years of slavery.
The thought put a spring in Adria’s step as, instead of going home, she turned down Walnut Street. Elias Brown had sent word to ask her to come by his shop. She had no idea why. Perhaps he wanted to order a cake.
Elias was banking the forge’s fire to leave for the day when she got there. No one else was in the shop.
When he heard her behind him, he turned around. “Miss Adria, glad you got here before I left for the day.”
Adria stepped closer to Elias. “What do you need, Elias? Some baked goods?”
It was warm in the shop, but welcoming somehow. His hammers were all hung along the wall, and the anvil was smooth and dark, waiting for more metal to be pounded into shape on it. A place where things were made.
“No, no. The missus does all her own baking. She’s a right fine cook, as you can see by the size of me.” He touched his broad middle, but it was more muscle than fat. “What I’m wanting to talk to you about has to do with Louis.”
“You don’t need to worry about giving more,” Adria said. “We’ve collected enough to buy him from the Sanderson family.”
“But what is he goin’ to do then? A man, any man, needs a job.”
“Louis will be able to get work. Mr. Sanderson has hired him out to half the people in Springfield.”
“No need to tell me that. I’ve given George Sanderson a fair share of coin over the years for Louis to swing his hammer here. That’s how I kept the shop going after my rheumatism got bad.” He rubbed one of his shoulders. “Truth is, I’m ready to lay down my hammers and sell my shop.”
“So do you want to put up a notice at the store?” She wasn’t sure why he was telling her his plans.
He shook his head. “I’ve been hearing folks talk about how everybody was giving to buy Louis, and I figured you might get more than his price. That got me to thinking maybe you could use any extra money in that collection of yours to buy my place here and turn it over to Louis. He’s a fine smithy. I’ll price it better than fair. For Louis.”
Adria could hardly believe her ears. That was exactly what Louis had told her he would want to do. The Lord was answering prayers she had been too timid to even voice.
“That would be wonderful.” She wanted to hug Elias, but a look at his smithy apron kept her at arm’s length. “If we have enough.”
“Long as it’s some. Then Louis can pay off the rest over time. When you know what you’ve got, send that new preacher of yours by and we’ll figure out a deal.”
Adria was practically dancing when she stepped back out on the street. She couldn’t wait to tell Ruth and Pastor Robertson. She wanted to run and tell Louis, but best not do that until it was a sure thing. Even if he wouldn’t be surprised. Not after he told her to pray believing. But she could hardly believe this.
Everything was working out. Earlier that day she’d heard Mrs. Gregory had bought Bet. Maybe in time she would set the cook free. Maybe in time all slaves would be freed. Adria had just received a letter from Abigail talking about how the abolition movement was growing in the east. As she did in every letter, she offered Adria a place to live in her home if Adria wanted to more actively join the fight. But Boston seemed as far away as the moon.
Then there was the truth that she did want to marry and have a family. If not tomorrow, then someday. She’d written that to Abigail, who had written back to suggest she might meet forward-thinking men in Boston who not only believed in freedom for slaves but spoke up for the rights of women. What a wonder that might be! Even if there were such men, that didn’t mean Adria would fall in love with one of them or him with her. But simply thinking about the possibility seemed to open new ways of thinking for Adria.
Here in Springfield, she had always assumed that someday she would take the expected path and marry Carlton. She would, as Ruth had pointed out, not want for anything. Carlton claimed he loved her, but Adria couldn’t help thinking he might love the woman he hoped she was instead of the woman she was. Long ago, she should have been honest with Carlton. Made him understand marriage was not going to change how she felt about slavery. She would not, could not, have slaves in her household.
As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, Carlton was waiting in front of her house when she turned down Elm Street. As soon as he saw her, he started up the street toward her. Even before he got close, she could see he was upset. When had they lost the fun of being together? She liked him. She really did. But when he got that frown in his eyes, he changed from the boy she once thought she might love enough to marry to a man she didn’t know.
“Carlton.” She smiled as if she didn’t notice his frown. “You didn’t go to church.”
“I came to go with you and Ruth, but now the service will be half over.” He stopped in front of her, nearly blocking the walkway.
“I’m sorry. You should have gone on with Ruth. Some people came in right at closing time.” She did her best to look genuinely sorry in hopes of appeasing him.
Instead his frown got darker. “You always have an excuse, don’t you?”
“Not an excuse. A reason. You have a job. If you need to, don’t you stay late to finish whatever needs to be done?”
“I work for my father. I can leave whenever I want.”
“But your father doesn’t, does he?” Adria raised her eyebrows at him as she eased past him to move on toward her house.
“No, he’s probably still working.” He turned to walk along with her. “Mother says he’s going to work himself to death. That he should hire more people or teach some of our slaves to work at the shop. Father says he’d rather pay his workers. He thinks that makes them have more pride in making a good hat.”
“Do you like to make hats?” It wasn’t something she had ever asked Carlton.
“I hate making hats. I’ve surely told you that.” Carlton sounded cross that she had to ask.
Adria stopped at the front gate and looked toward the small house that was in need of paint. A little feather of smoke rose from the chimney where Ruth must have been baking earlier. She wanted to go on inside, sit down, and take off her shoes, but she couldn’t invite Carlton into the house. It wouldn’t be proper without Ruth there to chaperone.
“Maybe you did. I don’t remember.” Adria leaned against the gate. “So what do you want to do?”
“After we marry, we’ll move out to my grandfather’s farm. He’s getting too old to take care of things there. I aim to make it profitable. Have cattle. Pigs. With the slaughterhouses and pork processing places here in town, that will be something good to get into.”
“Sounds harder than making hats.”
“Grandfather’s slaves do the work. I’ll just have to see that things are done and take care of the business end of buying and selling the stock.”
“And buying and selling slaves?” Adria kept her voice soft.
“That is part of running a successful farm. I know that bothers you, but Grandfather’s slaves are well cared for. Grandmother doesn’t have to lift a finger in the house. All she has to do is keep the servants in order and doing what they should.”
Adria stood up a little straighter and braced herself for whatever might follow her words. “You do know, don’t you, that I believe all slavery should be abolished. I could never own a slave.”
He waved his hand as though her words were of no consequence. “You’ll change your mind after we’re married and you see how things are out on the farm. We have to have slaves to get the work done. Those people in the north think we can just set them all free. That’s insane. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Our people would have no idea how to survive if we didn’t feed and take care of them. And they are happy that way.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“That’s because you’ve filled your head with stories from books.” He tapped her hat with his finger and gave her an indulgent smile. “And now this with Louis has got you all confused on how life really is. You could be right about the town owing Louis his freedom. Father agrees with you completely and gave a big chunk toward your campaign. But all slaves aren’t like Louis. Nobody wants to set them free.”
“I do.”
“And that’s a charming thing about you, but you’ll have to forget those crazy ideas after we get married.”
“And be a proper wife who does what her husband wants, I suppose.” Adria’s smile hurt her face.
“That’s what a wife is supposed to do. And raise our children. Tell me you’ll stop putting off our marriage. We could say vows in front of the preacher next Sunday.”
He reached for her hand, but she hid it in her skirts. She wanted to be angry with him, but instead she simply felt sad. Deeply sad. “I’m not going to marry you.”
“All right, if Sunday is too soon, we can wait until next month. July is hot, but so is August. That doesn’t really matter anyway. Once we’re married, we’ll spend every day the rest of our lives together, no matter the weather.”
“I’m not going to marry you, Carlton.” She made sure she said the words distinctly and firmly.
Confusion flashed across his face, but then he was smiling again. “You’ve simply got the vapors. You’ll change your mind in a few days. As soon as all this with the Sanderson sale is done and things settle back down.” His smile disappeared. “And that Logan Farrell moves along. You can’t depend on a man like that. No roots. Nothing but a smile that doesn’t mean a thing when he’s promising you the moon.”
“He hasn’t promised me anything. And this isn’t about him. It’s about you. The two of us.” She kept her eyes locked on his face. “I have never had the vapors and I mean what I say. I like you, Carlton. Very much. We’ve been friends forever, but I can’t marry you.” She shook her head a little. “No, ‘can’t’ isn’t the right word. I won’t marry you.”
Carlton stared at her for a moment, as though he wasn’t sure he heard her right. “You don’t know what you’re saying. We’ve known we were going to get married for years. Everybody knows that. Of course you are going to marry me.”
Adria just looked at him without saying anything. What more was there to say?
His confusion turned to anger then. He grabbed her and pushed her back against the gate. “Whatever game you’re playing, Adria, I’m tired of it. You need to come to your senses and realize I am your only hope of a decent marriage after you’ve ruined your reputation with that drifter. Going into a tavern with him like a common woman of the night. Not to mention dealing with the lowest of men in that store every day. But because I love you, I am willing to overlook all that.” He stared down at her, his eyes fierce as his hands tightened on her arms. “But once we’re married, things will change. People will respect you because you’re my wife.”
Adria wanted to jerk away from him, but instead she stood very still. While she had argued with Carlton many times, she’d never seen him this angry. She took a slow breath to keep her own anger in check. “You’re hurting me, Carlton.”
For a couple of seconds he kept his grip tight, as though he wanted her to know he was stronger and could impose his will on her. Then his face changed and he was again the Carlton she knew and sometimes thought she loved.
He loosened his hands but didn’t turn her loose. “I’m sorry, but sometimes you push me too far, Adria.”
“I am simply being honest with you.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “So next are you going to tell me you love that scoundrel Logan Farrell?”
“Not at all. I hardly know the man.”
“Well, at least you are using your good sense there.” His voice softened and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms in a caress now to perhaps make up for his roughness. “You’re just not thinking straight, Adria. Eventually you’ll see things more clearly. We can have a good life together. I’ll give you everything you ever dreamed of having.”
Except the freedom to be the woman I want to be. The words threaded through her mind, but she didn’t speak them aloud. Carlton wouldn’t understand. He had never understood. She would have to convince him that she couldn’t marry him, but right now she just wanted him to go away.
“It’s been a long day, Carlton, and I’m tired.”
“Poor dear.” He touched her face with his fingertips. “You’ll never have to work again after we marry.”
“I know.” She smiled a little as she pushed him back and stepped through the gate before he could lean down to kiss her. Perhaps if Ruth talked to him, she could make him understand that Adria meant what she said about not marrying him. Or she could get Pastor Robertson to talk to him.
“I love you, Adria.” He leaned across the gate toward her. “Nobody could ever love you like I do.”
“Goodbye, Carlton.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Adria said. Then she thought of Abigail’s letter telling her to come to Boston. While that seemed like somewhere in another world, suddenly her world here felt too small.
She turned to go up the steps onto the front porch. Relief swept through her when she looked back to see Carlton walking away.
The house felt empty when she went in the front door and took off her hat to hang on the hall tree. The scent of fresh-baked bread and cakes lingered in the air. A sweet, homey odor. Adria stood still and listened. Even now, all these years later, she sometimes imagined she could hear the echo of her mother’s laugh and her father’s voice. They had loved each other so much. Both had been content with their lot in life. Her mother to care for Adria and her little brother. Her father to provide for them.
How different Adria’s life surely would have been if not for the cholera. Perhaps then she would have been happy to marry Carlton. She would have never known Aunt Tilda’s burning need to be free that had colored her every word. Louis might have been only another slave to barely notice as she walked along the Springfield streets.
But the cholera had raged through the town, stealing that past from Adria and giving her a different future with Ruth, a woman who showed Adria the world through books. A woman who had been strong through every difficulty and had cared for Adria in spite of her hesitation to claim her as a daughter. It could be that, if not for Adria, Ruth would have long ago remarried and had a different life too.
There was no need to think about what might have been. Better to consider what was and decide on her tomorrow with a clear eye.
She went in the kitchen to find something to eat. The room was still warm from the morning’s baking.
A soft, almost timid knock on the back door made her look around.
“Missy Adria, are you in there?”
A woman’s voice. Not Louis, who still called her “missy” as he had from the time he first carried her away from this house after her family died. But a familiar voice all the same.
Adria pulled the door open. “Bet. What are you doing here?”
“I’s needin’ your help.” The black woman looked behind her and around.
Adria reached out and pulled her into the kitchen. Fear stepped inside with her.