Both John and Junior had promises to fulfill that were tied to Richmond.
After nearly four years of being in Mount Hope, John had succumbed to his inner demons and pushed full speed ahead to return to Richmond to see his mother. He didn’t know if she was living in the same godforsaken cabin, or even if she was alive for that matter, but the trip would be worth it. He’d commit himself to searching far and wide to find her. And he even entertained the thought about stopping near Billingsly to offer penance for his misdeeds.
He had done well with his farm and the Lawrence County Colored Alliance. He hated himself for not returning earlier, especially after Billingsly had intimated that Ann could be harmed if he wasn’t forthcoming about what happened to Madame Billingsly and the dreadful flasks. Settling in Mount Hope and working in the community had surpassed his need to see his mother. No more; it was time to lift the anchor.
Although he wanted to see more of Goldie, Junior agreed to accompany John to Richmond to see Ann. Junior would be Cousin Riley’s stand-in—he’d tell Ann all about his father, what little his father had shared with him about being a slave for Chad Davis.
He and Junior were set to make the trip to Richmond. John had already planned the itinerary. John had his own money, and Junior had money from his father’s whiskey still business. They’d reverse the course John had taken from Richmond to Mount Hope as much as possible, only this time they’d spend most of their time on a passenger train seated in the colored-only sections. Along the ride, they’d commiserate and tell each other they were glad they found each other. It was just the two of them and Ann in the world that shared the same blood, as far as John knew.
Dreaming about Richmond, he’d envision Ann’s powerful smile when he’d tell her how he first met Junior. He’d envision years of heartache for him and his mother wiped away with their reunion. And he’d tell Ann why he’d left Richmond; he’d promise her he’d return the flasks to the rightful owner.
They’d bought their train tickets and were scheduled to leave the next day, but in the meantime, a night out at the Blind Tiger was in order.
John was never a big carouser. But because he had kept his head down and worked hard, he felt he could relax a little. The more alcohol he imbibed, the more forward his tongue had become, which for him led to several men jumping him and breaking a couple of ribs. He wished Junior had been there; Junior’s powerful frame would have either deterred the attackers or made the fight more manageable for John. Instead, he was somewhere entangled with Goldie.
With broken ribs, he was immured in his rented five room abode. He walked little and said little for five days, as he swallowed the price of two tickets.
During his convalescence, Junior and Goldie took food to John and worked to nurse him back to health. To speed up recovery, Junior paid a young woman with an ample bosom and a cheery smile to help John where needed. But they just talked, and she proved to be a good listener. When his mind was not on his farm, the Alliance, or his mother, he’d dream about Tilla and wonder if she was out of his league. But the dreams would quickly vaporize because it was not to be. He was smart and handsome with good skills; he knew he’d find someone else soon. Perhaps that would be in Richmond, where he’d get married and his mother would dote on her grandchildren.
John healed up within two weeks. He purchased tickets for Junior and himself. The day had come for him to leave for Richmond.
He had already said his goodbyes to Reverend Owen, and some of his parishioners. Fannie and Tilla had missed church after Pony died. John asked Reverend Owen to say goodbye to them for him.
His bags lay at the door. As he had always done while traveling, he packed light. He picked them up and walked to the hansom cab he’d retained to take him to the station. He threw his bags in the back of the hansom and climbed aboard. The clouds parted, giving way to sunshine as the driver snapped the reins and his two dobbins lurched forward.
A voiced called out. “John! John Billingsly!”
Nothing was going to stop him from going home to see his mother. Not this time. He ignored the call.
The same voice called out again: “John, it’s Tilla. Stop! Won’t you stop?”
“Should I stop?” the driver asked.
John hesitated. He had fallen in love with her voice when he’d first heard her speak at church. Though the voice was the same, a voice that had conquered his heart, mind, and soul, the magic was gone. It was better that way; it’d be easier for him to get to Richmond to have his reunion with his mother. An interruption of a few seconds on his long journey ahead couldn’t hurt. And he’d now have the chance to tell her goodbye. “Yes, stop.”
He turned in his seat. Tilla lifted her hem and ran toward the hansom.
He jumped down and spoke first. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Mr. Hawkins. I wanted to tell you at church, but I haven’t seen you.”
Eyes that looked like they had cried for weeks couldn’t derail her beauty. His eyes drifted from hers and landed on her humdrum calico mutton leg-sleeve dress. Something wasn’t right.
“I know. It’s been hard on Mother and me.” After a pause, she said, “I need to tell you something before you leave.” After another pause, she said, “I’m pregnant.”
“Well, I think Roscoe will be a good father. You’ll have a good life with him. But thanks for telling me. I must be moving on. I’m going to see my mama in Richmond.”
“It’s not Roscoe’s; I never did it with him.”
She had cheated on Roscoe. But he didn’t care. He was more curious than anything. “Well, who’s the father?”
She arched her brow and widened her eyes, waiting for him to figure it out.
He remembered the one encounter they’d had a couple of months ago before she became betrothed to Roscoe. “No,” he said, “it can’t be. That’s impossible.”
Touching her stomach with both hands, she said, “This is the impossible … It’s yours.”
“Have you told Roscoe?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Roscoe’s not for me. We’re no longer together.”
“Does Mrs. Hawkins know?”
“No, I thought you should be the first to know.”
John’s eyes went vacant and a moment of silence ensued.
Richmond beckoned, and he was ready to set foot there again, ready to face his demons. After five years away from her, his mother was the lacuna in his life that he sorely coveted. He pictured her toothy smile in hearing that he had found Cousin Riley’s son. He’d move her out of that godforsaken slave cabin and find a new place for them to stay with the money he had saved. He’d find that bigger life back in Richmond. His affiliation with the Colored Farmer’s Alliance helped him understand the labor, business, and political aspects of running a farm. Someone would want his skills. Or perhaps he’d start his own business. And he’d come clean and tell her about the flasks. Things were looking up.
He turned and walked to the hansom, climbed aboard, and sat for a few seconds as the driver waited for instruction. He jumped down from the hansom and walked to Tilla, who had not moved.
Tilla spoke after the awkward pause. “Will you come see the baby? Come anytime.”
The dobbins nickered, and John looked at them as a way to temporize.
Finally, after ten long seconds, Tilla moved closer to John and said, “John, a girl isn’t supposed to say …”
John turned to Tilla. Feelings for her that he thought he’d drowned at the bottom of his heart rushed to the surface. His heart whooped and ineffable ecstasy washed over him. At long last, he had corralled his maiden beauty.
“A girl needn’t say it. Tilla, I love you.”
Using both hands, he cupped her face and kissed her deeply.
The driver clapped, and then said, “You go on and get your bags.”