March 1786
Suffolk County, New York
A log snapped in the fireplace of the small cabin and Kate’s gaze flew from the book perched beside her toward the sound. Her heart started to speed up, and she instinctively moved to run for Charlotte, but she took a deep breath.
The war is over now. I am safe. I am home.
The idea was still novel to her, even three years after the war’s end. When they’d made it across the river all those years ago, Kate had expected that her bad luck couldn’t be far behind. When Elijah had shown up on his master’s doorstep and explained that there was a new provision to their deal—that Mr. Sutton had to shelter Elijah’s family while he fought for America’s freedom—Kate had thought they’d certainly be turned out into the streets. But she’d spent the war working for Mr. Sutton, whose last remaining slave had taken her chances with the British, and Elijah had eventually returned home when many other men hadn’t. Her small family all had their free papers, and a home, and each other.
Sometimes she wondered what would have come to pass if she’d stayed at the camp and left for Canada, where most of the Black Loyalists had been repatriated. The reports in the paper about the hardships they faced there angered and saddened her. She’d called Elijah naive once, but she could think of no other reason for her surprise. There was no utopia awaiting those who had been pressed into bondage, but there was the hope and happiness they could make for themselves and their people.
She got up and threw more wood on the fire to keep the early spring cold at bay. Elijah and Charlotte would be home soon, and she wanted the house blazing for them.
Elijah had returned from Yorktown in one piece, but his years on the battlefield affected him in other ways. Now the chill seeped into his knees and ankles, settling in with an ache that he grit his teeth against. That didn’t stop him from spending his days out with the horses, calling on the surrounding farms, or being active in the Colored community. And even when the pain hit him hard, that didn’t stop him from being kind.
There were heavy footfalls in the distance, then the scuffing of boots on the mat outside the door. The heavy wooden rectangle pushed in, got stuck against the jamb, then swung open, and there he was.
Elijah.
Still big and strong after all these years. Still smiling that smile that made her all warm-cheeked and flustered.
Every time he returned home to her, she felt the unconscious fear that he wouldn’t drop away, leaving her light and buoyant. She would never lose the dread that her happiness could be snatched away from her; no amount of love and security could pry away the clinging knowledge of experience. But she had learned that living with fear and living in fear were two different things. Living in fear meant cutting yourself off from all that might sustain you, and Kate had taken the first step away from that way of life years ago, had let the waves of the East River wash away the anger and hurt that she’d thought could protect her. The change hadn’t been easy and was still in progress, but Elijah was still hers and she was still his, so she thought perhaps she hadn’t fared too badly.
“Good evening, Mr. Sutton.”
He shut the door against the cold and leaned back against it, and from across the room she could feel his gaze raking over her.
“Charlotte’s putting up the horses. She insisted she could do it herself,” he said, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
“If only that girl paid half as much attention to her needlework.” She shook her head, but part of her was proud of their daughter, too. Proud that Charlotte had grown up free, with the choice to shirk her duty and watch Elijah’s every move in the horse paddock. In this new country, this new America, maybe one day every little Black girl would have that choice.
“I’d linger in the barn, too, if I knew you were waiting with a pile of sewing to be done.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the work piled beside her chair. “Smart girl. Takes after her father.”
Kate laughed, and Elijah smiled wide in response. He held his arms out, beckoning her.
“Everything went smoothly?” she asked, stepping into his embrace, letting the comforting, familiar weight of him push away the last of her tension. Elijah was well-known in these parts. Some of the white townsfolk hadn’t been thrilled when Mr. Sutton had manumitted his slave and given him land and livestock, as he’d promised, but a good part of their hostility fell away as soon as they had their first horse problem. Apparently, self-interest was a great equalizer amongst men. Still, each time he visited a new farm she worried.
“Yes,” he said, pulling her tight against him. He smelled of cold and horse and that light, spicy aroma that couldn’t be covered by animal musk or scrubbed away with soap. “They were fine people. Spoke very highly of the new Manumission Society. More importantly, they paid well for my services. We can get those new fabrics you needed for the summer dresses Mrs. Carter wanted made. They’re looking to bring in more horses, and they’ve already requested I come back when they do”
His hands slid to her waist and cinched her there, holding her against him, and the familiar spiral of desire unspooled between her thighs. There was no time for what she wanted, what they both wanted, so just being near him would have to be enough.
“Well, I’m glad the call went better than we expected,” she said, leaning into him. She rested her hands on his chest and looked at him, at the gray coming into his beard and the faint lines that creased his face from smiling too often.
“I’m just glad I’m home.” The sincerity in his words gave her a pleasant jolt. She knew he wasn’t just talking about their modest two room cabin or the belongings they’d scraped together over the years. Not when he was looking at her like that.
She grinned. “Missed me did you?”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Katie,” he said. “Every minute I spent away at war, I was longing for you. Every time I leave you now, I feel the same.”
Kate felt something in her chest expand almost painfully. She’d been wary of love before Elijah, and still was in many ways. One thing she hadn’t realized when she’d stopped trying to evade the emotion was that love wasn’t a static thing that you accepted and moved on from—it was wild like the ocean, with dips and swells that would always surprise her. That, even after all this time, a few simple words from Elijah could have joy sprout up in her fast and strong, like a sapling stretching toward the sunlight. She hadn’t realized he could make her fall in love with him every day, and that she’d enjoy falling.
She pressed her cheek against his, savoring the scrub of his beard.
“I’d tell you to never leave me, then, but I do enjoy my private reading time,” she joked. She had to joke because everything she felt about him was wrapped too tightly around her heart. “But since you missed me so, I’ll let you have one kiss before Charlotte returns.”
His hand came to her neck to pull her head back, and the heat she saw in his eyes before he kissed her licked higher than the newly stoked flames behind the grate. Then Elijah’s mouth was against hers, his lips soft and warm, and his tongue hot and sleek and searching for hers. She felt the love in his kiss and how it nourished her, how it made that sapling grow and branch out until it blotted out the view of her past, and his, shaded them from the cruelties of society, and left them secluded in a world all their own.
“Mama!” The door behind Elijah shook as Charlotte tried to push her way in. “Can you unlatch the door before I catch a chill? Where is Papa?”
Elijah sighed, pressed one more kiss to her lips, and rested his forehead against hers. “Shall we let her in?”
“I don’t see why not. I’m quite fond of the girl,” she said, stepping away from him. “And of you.”
Elijah chuckled and pulled his bulk away from the door, turning to open it as Charlotte’s lithe form pranced in on a gust of wind. She kissed Kate on the cheek and then dashed toward the fireplace, holding out her hands toward the warmth.
“Mama, you should have seen the giant stallion on the farm! And they had this sweet little foal that nuzzled my hand! And Papa said maybe, if I did all my sewing and got my letters right, I could go with him again next time!”
“Oh, Char,” Kate said. The girl’s hair was blown every which way and the hem of her dress was covered in filth. But her eyes were bright and the smile on her face was worth the mess. “Come on, then. Wash up and help me get dinner started. You can tell me all about your day.”
Elijah removed his coat and settled into his chair in front of the fire, beside Kate’s, after Charlotte dashed off. The girl returned quickly and filled the room with her excited chatter as they prepared the meal. Kate paused in her kneading and took in the scene around her: warm cabin, napping husband, prattling daughter.
I am home.