Passages of Hope

Although their conditions improved some, they were still very weak. Olivia had done all she could to keep them warm and fed.

Even though she knew they were recovering, her anxiety remained high. Particularly now that Walker had disappeared. Not to mention how Saunders’ visit had rattled her badly enough that she jumped every time the front door opened. Even when it was Douglas. The first few times, he had studied her with concern. Now he announced himself when he came home.

She vowed to stop jumping. A man should be able to come home from work and not frighten his wife every night. But he had, as usual, not asked why she was so skittish. If he knew she was growing more afraid by the day, he would forbid her to put her life in danger. She shook her head. It was too late for that now.

Olivia was hunched over her sewing table when the door opened. She jumped and then scolded herself. But surprise brought her to her feet when she saw Franklin standing in the doorway in the fading sunlight.

“Franklin. Oh my. I quite forgot myself. Did I ask you to deliver something? Because I have nothing for you.” She pushed the pin in her hand into the pincushion.

“No.” Franklin took off the brown cap he was wearing and reached in his pocket. “I got a letter for you.”

She crossed the room and took the letter. “Thank you. Do you need to wait for a reply?”

“No, ma’am.” Franklin shuffled. “Just trying to get warm. Mighty cold out there.”

Olivia smiled at the boy. “You can go and make yourself a cup of cocoa. I believe there are a few biscuits left over too.”

She returned to her seat and opened the letter, taking one last peek at the door. Douglas would be arriving soon from work. If she expected him, he would not frighten her. The flap gave easily under her finger. She unfolded the note and began to read.

Mrs. Kingston,

I will be arriving at your house tomorrow to collect the passengers that you have been so kind to accommodate these past weeks. Mr. and Mrs. Tomas are ready to receive them and assist them with food and shelter until they can be escorted to our northernmost conductors.

I will come after sunset if that is acceptable to you. There have been strange doings about, and I feel it is best to use the aid of darkness.

Yours in service,
Mr. T. Gull

Olivia refolded the letter, her mind working on all she would need to do before Mr. Gull arrived tomorrow. First and most importantly, she would have to go over the process with Beulah. Extra steps would need to be taken to accommodate baby Hope. Olivia would also have to prepare Beulah that Mr. Gull was white. Some fugitives were unnerved by receiving assistance from a white man because they had trouble forgetting their past. Olivia would make sure Beulah understood she was among friends.

Franklin returned from the kitchen. “Thank you, Ms. ‘Livia. That was what I needed.”

Olivia laughed. Franklin spoke in a manner that was well above his years. “Glad you enjoyed it.” She let the boy out, closed the drapes, and locked the door. Maybe she could get to talk to Beulah a bit before Douglas arrived home.

Olivia removed the panel, but when she opened the door, she was met with a sight she never expected to see.

Baby Hope was sitting on the second-from-the-top stair. Olivia took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

After scooping up Hope, she rushed down the stairs as fast as she safely could. The room was dimly lit, and as Olivia’s eyes adjusted, she noticed two things.

She gasped, holding Hope tighter. The panel between the root cellar and the secret room leaned against the adjoining wall. From where she stood, she could see that the outside door was slightly ajar, like someone had tried to close it. Cold air flooded the room. Her mind whirred. Beulah would not have left. Where would she go? And would she have left Hope?

Olivia looked down at Hope. The baby’s face was a mask of confusion. Maybe she would have left Hope.

One skill all stationmasters needed was the ability to think on their feet. But standing there in the dim room with Hope staring at her with worried eyes, Olivia’s mind was as frozen as the air.

The root cellar door still stood a little ajar. She gently placed Hope on the bed so she could close it. But she had not taken two steps before the child let out a hoarse wail. Olivia rushed back, picked up the girl, and rocked her. “All is well. Don’t cry, little one.”

Hope pressed her face into Olivia’s neck and grabbed a fistful of Olivia’s blouse, making it very clear that Olivia was not going to be able to put her down again.

She caressed the girl’s head. “It is nearly suppertime, and I was going to bring food down to you and your mama. How about something to eat?”

The door would have to wait. Besides, if she closed it, Beulah would be locked outside. She shifted Hope in her arms as she climbed the stairs. Maybe once Olivia fed the child, Hope would drift to sleep and Olivia could close the door. Then she could work on solving her next problem, which was getting word to Mr. Still. Beulah had passed through Mr. Still’s house first, so it was a possibility she had returned there. Olivia tried to accept that explanation, but her mind pushed back. But why leave Hope?

She reached the top of the stairs. Hope buried her face in Olivia’s neck and let out a whimper. Poor babe. She had been in the dark so long the light hurt her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He was standing next to the door, a puzzled look in his eyes, and when she ran into him, he wrapped his arms around her and Hope to steady them. “Olivia?” His voice came close to her ear.

It was something about the tenderness in his tone that uncorked her emotions. Tears rushed to her eyes. “Douglas … I …”

Douglas relaxed his hold and looked down at Hope. “And who do we have here?”

Olivia blinked back tears, exhaustion weighing her down. Most of her reserve in telling Douglas about her work slipped. “Hope.”

She swallowed, struggling against the tears forming. “Yes, she—I am not supposed—”

Douglas held up a hand. “Let’s not worry about that now. You look like you could use some help.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Hope and her mama came here together, but her mama left without her.”

“I do not know.” But as soon as she spoke the words, a memory came to mind. Mrs. Wilson having to exit through the root cellar door because Saunders was here. Besides that, how much more had Beulah heard from downstairs? Did she leave to protect Hope and Olivia?

“Let me help you,” Douglas said. His voice was firm. A tone she knew. He was going to help her no matter what she said.

Olivia sniffled. Her legs felt like she had run up and down the stairs all day. “The root cellar door is open. I need to close it.”

Douglas looked down at Hope. “You tend to the child, and I will close the door.”

“Everything will be all right. We will tend to the immediate needs and then talk.”

He released her, breaking the bubble of warmth his embrace created. He crossed the room and picked up an oil lamp Olivia kept sitting on a table for that very reason.

He lit the lamp and descended the stairs. She watched him until he disappeared, then carried Hope into the kitchen. Hope’s eyes had adjusted to the light, and she was studying everything with wonder. “How about some bread to start?” Olivia picked up one of the biscuits she had baked earlier and handed it to the child.

She heard Douglas coming up the stairs, and in a minute he was standing in the doorway, watching Hope. “She is undernourished.”

“And she was sick.” Douglas moved around her and began preparing plates of food.

“I think I do.” He smiled at her. “Go sit in the dining room. I’ll have more food for you before Hope finishes that biscuit.”

Olivia obeyed, her emotions in a jumble. When Douglas set the plate of chicken and potatoes in front of her, Hope leapt forward to grab for it. Olivia had to react quickly to catch her tiny hands.

Douglas laughed. “Looks like she’s ready for more.” He placed his own plate in front of the chair next to Olivia and sat down. After saying a quick blessing, Olivia used her fork to mash one of the pieces of potato and shred some chicken for Hope.

“What do you do now? By the way you looked coming out of the basement, I assume this was not supposed to happen.”

Olivia looked down at Hope, who was chewing on a strip of chicken and reaching for another. “I need to get word to Mr.—” She stopped herself. Douglas was already too far into this than she was comfortable with.

He tipped his head and gave her a curious look. “I’ve always been involved, dear.”