CHAPTER FOUR

OLIVIA

Philadelphia, 1855

Olivia Kingston reached the bottom of the stairs, the darkness no hindrance to her steps, and then lit the oil lamp in her hand. The light glowed gold around the small room, creating a ring around her. The brick walls and dirt floor seemed to absorb some of the brightness, but not enough to keep the three figures huddled in a corner in complete shadow.

The frightened, wide-eyed expressions on their faces were familiar. She had seen it many times before. “All is well,” she said quietly.

The two men and the woman relaxed, their shoulders slumping with the release of worry.

Olivia set the lamp down and traveled back up the steps to get the basket in the doorway at the top of the stairs. Her movements were quick. Sluggishness could be dangerous tonight. She set the basket in front of the three. “The arrangements for your departure have been made. We must go to the docks tonight.”

The faces in front of her shifted, each in its own way, from alertness back to worry.

“Do not be too anxious. This will be dangerous, but you will have friends with you. There is food, warmer clothing, some blankets, and a little money for each of you.” She moved the blanket atop the basket to reveal the items.

One of the men, Otto, stood and went to the opposite corner and picked up the traveling sack he had arrived with. The other two, a couple, Lula and Albert, looked dismayed. “We do not have any way to carry those things.”

Olivia smiled at them. “We will fashion a sack from one of the blankets, but we must hurry. The next conductor will be waiting for you.”

With Lula and Albert’s help, Olivia spread one of the blankets on the floor. The four of them had all the goods and few coins distributed between them and their bundles secured with knots in less than five minutes.

“We will go out the door you came in and down to the docks,” Olivia told them, noting the charge that now filled the air. Moving the “passengers,” their code name, was a feat that required great care and caution. One mistake and these three would suffer worse fates than they ran away from.

She moved to lift the lamp. “I will return within the hour to accompany you to the docks.”

Otto gave her a worried look. “Miss Olivia, are you sure? Won’t it be dangerous?”

Olivia touched her hand to her heart. “It will be fine. There will be others there to watch out and make sure you get on the boat safely. If you do exactly as I say, you will be gone before there is any danger.”

Lula smiled, tears sparkling in her eyes. “We want to thank you.”

Olivia gave them a gracious smile. This was one of the great joys of being a stationmaster. Helping every living soul who passed through her room. Knowing that she had been a part of their journey to freedom. Also to give them a picture of what their lives could be like. Olivia was very often the first free Black woman her guests had ever seen.

“No thanks needed,” she said, moving to the bottom of the steps. “Your freedom is enough thanks for me.”

Lula swiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Miss Olivia. May God bless you,” she said in a low voice.

Olivia nodded. “Please try and get some rest.” She steadied her breathing with each step up the stairs and extinguished the light at the top. She heard a faint shuffling from below before she moved through the short wooden door and out onto the main floor of her home.

A home she had been using to shelter fugitives for a little over a year.

The room in front of her held the lawful side of her life. Her dressmaking shop. Although the walls were an ordinary cream, the room was full of color from the bolts of fabric and half-finished dresses on mannequins. This was where she worked her other trade.

She placed the lamp on a small table by the door and lifted the wood panel that leaned against the wall. Mr. Colton, a free Black bricklayer who built her home, including the room below, had also fashioned her a lightweight piece of wood that she could secure over the door so it remained unseen. Once in place, no one looking at it would know that there was a door behind it that led down to her secret room.

Her task done, she extinguished the rest of the lamps on the bottom floor and began her trip up to her bedroom. She let out a yawn. A few customers had come through her door, but preparing her passengers to leave had taken up most of her day. She’d had to collect all the supplies, bake some bread for their journey, and plan the route to the docks. They could almost never take the quickest, most direct route. They had to go a longer way that allowed hiding places if they were followed.

It was well after dark, and her husband, Douglas, would already be in bed. Probably long asleep. She had seen him very little today. His work as one of the few Black doctors in Bella Vista exhausted him, and he retired from the table not long after dinner. Her heart craved a conversation with him, but it would not happen tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night either. Maybe it was for the best, because she couldn’t talk about the topic uppermost in her mind.

Douglas and Olivia had been married for nearly three years, and they’d had only one conversation about the work she did. He had recently graduated from medical school, and they were in the process of buying this house. She had sat him down and explained that she wanted to continue the work she had done with William Still and the Underground Railroad. Her parents, free Blacks, had planted the seed in Olivia, using their modest home in Delaware as a station house. She was helping fugitives by the time she was nine.

Her parents had moved to Philadelphia and served Mr. Still for a few years and then had moved again to Ohio, where they used their new home as a station house as well. She had married Douglas and stayed near Mr. Still even though Douglas was supportive of their moving closer to her parents. Olivia had to be here. This was where she could do the most good. She would not stop until every single Black person was free like she was.

She would help the three in her secret room down to the docks without Douglas knowing much. He had agreed that she continue her work during that conversation three years ago. She’d promised that she would keep the details from him. There was a stiff penalty for helping fugitives. If questioned, he could honestly say he did not know anything about what she was doing. And he would have no need to lie.

She had honored that promise. If she was caught housing fugitives, all Douglas’ hard work of becoming a doctor would be wasted. They would have to take flight themselves to keep their freedom. So she only ever told him that she had “work.” It must be the tone that she used when she told him, but she never had to explain to him which of her jobs she meant. He only nodded and said, “I will pray.”

As she changed into her sturdy boots and dark cloak, she wondered again what he would say if he knew just how much danger she was in.

Olivia sat at the head of the table in Shipper’s dining room and stifled a yawn. She glanced around to see if anyone saw. It did not appear that the members of the Friends of Bella Vista had. Conversation and laughter floated around her.

The Friends monthly meeting was held at Shipper’s, an inn owed by Mr. Abrams. The committee had been active for years. William Still, chairman of the Pennsylvania Society for the Abolition of Slavery, had begun it. He had also enlisted several members to be stationmasters or conductors. The Friends of Bella Vista met to find ways to help their neighbors, but it was also the safest way for them to discuss their antislavery work without raising questions.

Olivia had soon been nominated to chairwoman as she was already connected to the Bella Vista community. She had accepted the honor with all her heart, thankful for the opportunity to help.

She glanced around the room, taking account of who was in attendance. All the stationmasters and conductors, Mr. Wilson and Thea, Mr. Abrams, and Mr. Gull, a conductor who lived about ten miles north. He had been assisting many years before Olivia and was one of the first conductors she had met. Also in attendance was Henry Foley, a newly freed Black man who worked at the docks. Mrs. Steward, a widow, had sent a note to Olivia that she would not be coming. Lottie Muller, a sharp young woman, had stopped by to tell them she was working tonight. The Friends discussed community concerns while Mrs. Steward, Lottie, and Henry were present. But when they weren’t, they discussed Underground Railroad business.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she thought her fatigue had escaped notice until Mrs. Thea Wilson sat down beside her.

“Did you sleep at all?” Olivia’s friend and fellow stationmaster asked.

“Yes.” She looked down at her notes. She had slept for about two hours after returning from the docks. The sun rose too soon, and she had dragged herself out of bed. Douglas required little attention, but food still needed to be cooked. And, in a quiet tone, he had asked her to mend a button on one of his favorite shirts. He had stood very near to show her which one. Did he notice how she had leaned toward him, their shoulders almost touching? She had fixed the button this morning, replaying the comfort in being close to him. Words between them were so precious. Even words asking if she could fix a button.

“How long?” Thea asked, her gaze still on Olivia’s face.

“All I could.”

Thea raised an eyebrow. “I am in awe at how you can do so much with so little sleep.”

“Not everything. I wanted to finish repairing the tear in Franklin’s coat. It will be done by tomorrow.”

“Olivia, you cannot continue like this. You are not responsible for everything. I told you he has another coat. You have more important things to do than repairing a coat ripped by an energetic boy.”

Olivia grimaced at Thea’s words. “If I had his energy, sleep would be unnecessary.”

Thea shook her head. “Not true. Franklin is so tired after a day of running errands that he nearly collapses. It is impossible to get him up in the morning, and he often sleeps late.”

Sounds glorious. To get in bed and not have to be out of it before the sun rose. She nearly yawned again but took several deep breaths instead.

Mr. Abrams entered the room with a cup and saucer in his hand. He set the black coffee in front of Olivia. “Had to start prep on tomorrow’s meals.”

Olivia stared at it, and Thea let out a soft chuckle.

“Thank you. Shall we begin with prayer?”

The room quieted. Every single person in the room knew they were doing God’s work. Each heart’s conviction was as strong as the next. Several in the room had aligned themselves with the Quakers’ stance against slavery. All of them believed that every person should be as free as they were in God’s eyes.

Olivia said a short prayer, asking for God’s help and guidance in their work, and once a hearty “Amen,” sounded around the room, she lifted her notes.

The words on the page blurred, and she blinked several times to focus. The first item was Mr. Wilson’s report on the funds. She sighed with relief. If Mr. Wilson had to talk first, it would give her time to have some coffee and wake up a bit. “Mr. Wilson, please share your report.”

Mr. Wilson began with recounting the funds the group had dispersed. Their donations went toward three areas: the Institute for Colored Youth, the needy in the Bella Vista community, and Underground Railroad activities. Only the first two would be discussed at the official Friends meeting. The third would be addressed once Henry left.

Pride filled Olivia’s heart at how their efforts had gotten more books for the institute. Mr. Wilson finished his report by stating how much was in the community fund.

“Which brings us to the next item,” Olivia said. “We need to decide who in the community needs help so Mr. Wilson can disburse funds.”

Mr. Abrams cleared his throat. “We already decided.”

Olivia paused in the middle of lifting her cup to her mouth, alarm bringing her alert. Had she missed that discussion? She was tired but had no memory of drifting off to sleep in the meeting. “We have?”

“Well, we have a very strong candidate, and most of us were already prepared to nominate him,” Mr. Abrams said. Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.

She exhaled. “With such a strong endorsement, I guess our vote is only a formality. Who is it?”

“Douglas.”

Olivia blinked. “My Douglas?”

Mr. Abrams nodded. “He has treated our poorer neighbors many times without being paid, as you know.”

Olivia managed to keep her surprise from her expression. He has?

“He is a saint for that, but still, his generosity must be creating a hardship for your family,” Mr. Wilson said. “We don’t have much to give, but we can at least assist with some of the unpaid bills.”

Henry nodded. “You will need to convince him to accept it.”

Of all the requests they could have made of her, talking to Douglas about anything would be the most difficult. “Wouldn’t it be in bad form for a committee member to accept funds?”

Mr. Gull laughed. “Like when the committee helped me repair my wagon?”

“Or the repayment for the food my wife and I supplied when that large group of children arrived at the institute?” Mr. Wilson asked. His grocery had been a hub for the station houses in Bella Vista. It was one of the few places that almost all of the stationmasters could go without suspicion. Everyone needed food, so it provided the perfect cover.

The committee had done all that and more. It was one of the convictions of the group that made it work. No one stood on ceremony. They all understood the sacrifices required to do what they did. More than that, accepting assistance meant they could do more work. Assistance that none of them would think of refusing … except her. “I will speak to Douglas.”

The meeting continued, and Olivia’s exhaustion increased. The thought of talking to Douglas had put an additional weight on her shoulders. What would he say? How could she even bring up the topic? I found out from the committee that you have not been charging the poor residents. No. Accusing him like that would make her a hypocrite. How many secrets was she keeping from him?

The sun had set by the time the first meeting adjourned. All of the conductors and stationmasters made the pretense of leaving, collecting their things, but began to have conversations with one another while they waited for Henry to leave. They could count on him leaving shortly after the meeting because Henry always walked Lottie and Mrs. Steward home. But tonight Henry, who was normally so reserved, began chatting with Mr. Gull, more animated than Olivia had ever seen him.

Mr. Wilson had to manufacture a reason to escort Henry out of the room. As he passed Olivia, he whispered, “Go ahead without me. Thea can tell me what you discussed.”

As soon as the two men were gone, everyone returned to their seats. “We should go through the rest of the items quickly,” Olivia said. “We are already behind.”

“I thought that boy would never leave,” Mr. Abrams said with a chuckle.

They dove right into their Underground Railroad business. Most of the discussion centered on their recent encounters with slave catchers.

“We have to be extra careful right now,” Mr. Gull said. “I have seen at least two new slave patrols in the last week.”

November was the worst month. Because more slaves ran in November, there were more catchers in the area. “I believe that our measures to travel in pairs as much as we can is our best course of action. We may need additional options when traveling alone is unavoidable,” Olivia said. “Have we heard from Moonie?” she asked, worry heavy in her heart.

Moonie was a free Black, only twenty-two years old, who had gone missing earlier that summer. No one had heard from him since, and no matter how much they and Mr. Still had searched for him, they had not been able to find him. No one wanted to accept that he had been kidnapped and sold south, but they had few other explanations. Moonie had been working at the mill one day and gone the next. If he had been sold, it might take months for him to get word to Mr. Still. It had happened before, so they had some hope, but with each passing day, hope dwindled. Olivia shuddered at the pain he may be suffering. But Moonie was young and strong. He would not accept being a slave after being free his whole life.

When the second meeting adjourned, Mr. Gull drove Olivia and Thea home. After Olivia climbed down from the wagon, Thea placed a hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

Olivia nodded and watched the wagon drive off. She checked her surroundings as she rushed up the stairs with her remaining energy. The lights were still on. Douglas had not gone to bed yet. She put the key in the lock of the front door, her muscles stiff with fatigue. Stepping inside, she breathed a sigh of relief that the front room was empty.

Her relief evaporated when Douglas came around the end of the stairs with a cup of tea in his hand. “Evening. How did the meeting go?”

“Well.” The desire to sleep overshadowed her discomfort. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

He studied her. “Can it wait until the morning? You look as if you need sleep first.”

She removed her hat and cloak and sat in a chair. Douglas came and sat in the chair across from her. “The committee members voted tonight to settle some of your unpaid bills with the money we raise to help members of the community.”

He frowned. “Surely there must be a more worthy cause than me.”

“The committee feels you are worthy, especially since you are treating patients at no charge.” She said the words, waiting for him to explain why he kept his generosity secret. Not that she was surprised. Or angry. But finding out from others did needle her.

“I would rather they find another cause. Can you convince them?”

She shook her head. “They want me to convince you.”

He looked down at his tea. “If you feel it is proper.”

“I had little say in the selection.”

He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. His expression told her that he had considered saying something other than, “Very well.” But that was what he said, and the matter was closed. Very closed.