CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OLIVIA

The clock chimed noon, and Olivia nearly groaned. Her eyes stung from being so tired. And from crying. She and Douglas had spent a fretful night with baby Hope. Not that the babe was any trouble. She was tired from all the excitement and promptly fell asleep after she’d had a bath and Douglas had examined her. He noted that she was severely undernourished and had lost weight from her sickness.

Olivia’s tiredness came from the fact that she had sat and watched the child sleep in the basket they had lined with blankets. If Hope had awakened and not known where she was, it may have startled her. But she didn’t wake. Olivia had gone to sleep for a few hours before dawn. It seemed more like a few minutes.

When she began her morning routine, however, she realized she had another complication. What was she to do with Hope during the day? She wasn’t as clingy as the night before, but Hope would still cry if Olivia stayed out of her sight for too long. She had thought about putting her in the basket and carrying it downstairs to her work area, but that wouldn’t work today. Earlier that morning she had received a note from a Mrs. Pansy Johnson requesting a fitting. Her name was not familiar to Olivia, but the note said that Mrs. Johnson had been referred by Mrs. Mason. With the money Mrs. Mason spent on dresses, having another customer like her would be wonderful.

Olivia rubbed her eyes, and a soft thump sounded from upstairs. Without any other options, she had raced around to the Wilsons’ house before Hope woke and Douglas left for work. Both Mr. and Mrs. Wilson needed to be in the store today, but they could spare one of their older daughters, Milly, to come around for a few hours and sit with Hope.

Olivia had run through the possibilities of what to do with the child. Not sleeping gave her plenty of time to think. They could put Hope in one of the girls’ homes. There was one nearby run by Mrs. Brasewell, a member of the Vigilance Committee. But what if Beulah returned, looking for Hope? It was probably for the best that Hope stay. However, if Beulah did have a conductor take her farther north, it may be months before she could make contact. Most fugitives waited until they got themselves established before they sent for their loved ones. It made sense that Beulah would wait, especially if she believed Hope was in good hands with Olivia.

Except Beulah never asked Olivia to care for Hope. Instead, Beulah had asked if she had to leave.

The front door opened. The soft bumps upstairs promptly ceased. Olivia stood from her table to see a very tall, very solid woman coming through the door. She wore an immaculately tailored dress. Her dark curls framed her face.

Olivia smoothed her skirts. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” the woman said. Her words held a southern twang, and she wore a wide smile. “My name is Mrs. Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ain’t you a pretty little thing. The pleasure is mine. I have seen Catherine Mason’s dresses. Absolutely delightful.”

Olivia dipped her head. “Thank you. I assume you need some new dresses. What is the occasion?” Mrs. Mason normally showed up at the shop when she had an event to attend.

“No occasion. Pretty dresses make me happy.”

Olivia smiled. This woman would be an even better customer than Mrs. Mason. “Let us look at some fabric samples.” Olivia led her over to the table where she had the samples laid out. “What is your favorite color?”

Mrs. Johnson laughed, high and tinkling. “All of them.”

Olivia studied her face and then lifted several selections from the pile. One of the reasons her customers valued her so much was that she could match the perfect color to their skin. “What do you think of these?”

“I love them all.” She touched a deep green silk. “Especially this one. Reminds me of my home in Virginia.”

Olivia snapped her mouth shut. If Mrs. Johnson had a home in Virginia, the less Olivia knew about it the better. Her home was probably a plantation.

“Are you married, Miss Olivia?” Mrs. Johnson asked, fingering a piece of printed cotton with a delicate yellow flower pattern.

“I am.”

“What does your husband do?”

In the normal course of conversation, spouses and family regularly came up, but not before the customer had decided what they wanted made. “He is a doctor,” Olivia said slowly.

“A doctor? A real doctor?”

Olivia studied Mrs. Johnson, not sure if she was genuinely as surprised as her tone sounded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Johnson touched her on the arm. “You’re skilled at making lovely dresses, and your husband is a real doctor. I am always amazed at how smart your people can be.”

Olivia gritted her teeth. You would also be amazed at how many fugitives I will help with the money you pay me for your frilly dresses. “Thank you.”

With a little nudging, Olivia steered Mrs. Johnson to make her selections. She chose five squares of fabric and five dress styles. “I want these.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, “You want all five?”

“Ye–es.” Mrs. Johnson dragged out the word. “Unless there is a problem.”

“Not at all,” Olivia sputtered. The woman had picked the most complicated patterns and the most expensive fabrics. “Shall we do a fitting?” She ushered Mrs. Johnson behind the screen. “Just call out when you’re down to your corset and petticoats.”

While Mrs. Johnson undressed, Olivia grabbed a sheet of paper and tallied up the bill. It was three times what Mrs. Mason spent at once. What a boon it would be to have her as a regular customer.

“All ready,” Mrs. Johnson called.

When Olivia stepped behind the screen, Mrs. Johnson had done what she was told. Usually, Olivia would imagine that she was measuring a mannequin, but she couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Johnson’s strong arms and shoulders. Arms that had seen hard labor.

Olivia stepped to the woman and took her measurements as fast as she could. As she did, another bump sounded from upstairs followed by a giggle. Hope and Milly.

“You have children. Boy or girl? You probably have a whole brood.” Mrs. Johnson’s voice sounded above Olivia’s head as she measured her waist.

“Actually, I do not have children. I have guests staying with me at the moment.” That was the best she could come up with.

“Children are so darling. Mine are all grown,” Mrs. Johnson said with pride.

Olivia stood. “All done.” She rushed out from behind the screen.

Once Mrs. Johnson emerged, Olivia handed her the bill. “I will need a deposit.”

“How about I just pay you all of it right now?” Mrs. Johnson reached into her satchel, pulled out a banknote, and handed it to Olivia. “I will return in a month.”

Olivia stared at the note and gaped at the ease with which the woman handed it over. And it did not escape her notice how many banknotes Mrs. Johnson had. “Yes, ma’am. If they are done sooner, I will send word to you. Where are you staying?”

“I said I will be back in a month.” Mrs. Johnson gave her a pointed stare. Olivia held it until the woman looked away.

Once Mrs. Johnson left and Olivia closed the door behind her, Olivia stared at the note. Another thump upstairs. This is plenty to help us take care of Hope.

Olivia decided it was best to go out the back door to get to Mr. Still’s house. It sat across the street, the back of her house facing the side of his. The trip needed to be brief since it would be dark soon. She pulled her coat closed and walked with quick steps to the front door of Mr. Still’s house. She knocked on the door, and Mrs. Still opened it.

“Mrs. Kingston, how are you?” Mrs. Still leaned forward, studying her face. “You look like you need rest.”

Olivia sighed. She needed rest, but she had no time for it. “These past days have been trying.”

Mrs. Still led Olivia into her living room. “The weather is changing. All the women are in need of heavier garments.” Mrs. Still was a more skilled seamstress than Olivia. Between word of mouth and her advertisement in the paper, Mrs. Still never lacked for customers.

“No, not the dressmaking, although I did get a new customer with expensive tastes.”

“Nice to have wealthy customers.” She led Olivia to the stairs. “Then you must be here to see William. He is up in his office.”

Olivia nodded her thanks and climbed the stairs. She braced herself. Beulah’s disappearance would be unpleasant news, especially so soon after Walker went missing. She knocked on Mr. Still’s office door, and he called out, “Come in.”

She stepped into the small office. Mr. Still sat behind a desk covered in papers. Beside the desk were shelves of bookcases. In front of the desk was an armchair. Olivia wondered how many fugitives had sat in that seat and told Mr. Still all about themselves.

Mr. Still looked up and smiled. “Mrs. Kingston. Please sit. How can I help you?”

She sat and folded her hands in her lap. “I need to consult with you on a matter.”

He put his pen down. “Of course.”

As she told him about Beulah, his eyes grew wider. “Did Miss Beulah leave a note? Talk to you about leaving?”

“No. She cannot read or write.”

“When did she leave?”

“I do not know. I assume yesterday. I only discovered it because I went down to prepare her for Mr. Gull to take her farther north.”

Mr. Still rubbed his face. “I will speak with Mrs. Brasewell and see if she has space for Hope.”

Olivia sat forward. “But that is nearly a day’s travel. What if Beulah comes back for the child?”

Mr. Still sighed. “Very true. You will have to keep her for a little longer.”

Olivia sat straighter. “My husband and I came to that conclusion.”

Mr. Still’s eyebrows shot up. “Your husband?”

“I have hidden many things in that room, but a baby with no mama isn’t something I could manage alone,” Olivia said. “Or keep hidden from Douglas.”

Mr. Still chuckled. “I suppose not. Then if you and Dr. Kingston are settled with keeping the child, I will alert the conductors and stationmasters to be on the lookout for Miss Beulah.”

She started to stand and then remembered something. “Did Mr. Wilson tell you about their unexpected passenger?”

“He did. It was very perplexing.”

“I wonder if this is connected. He disappeared like Beulah did,” Olivia said.

Mr. Still frowned. “That he did. And, now that I think about it, a fugitive disappeared from another station house in the area. The Breer family.”

“Could this be a coincidence?”

Mr. Still shook his head. “I would like to believe it is. I will send Franklin around with a note if I hear anything. And I will find other accommodations for any incoming fugitives until we settle this matter with the baby.”

Olivia sighed in relief but immediately felt guilty. The idea of no fugitives for a while should not make her feel better. Finding shelter for them was already challenging enough. The Bella Vista network would have one less house. But then, she and Douglas were providing aid to baby Hope. “Thank you,” she said.

Footsteps pounded up the steps. Mrs. Still appeared at the door, nearly breathless. “Mr. Williamson has been released!” she cried with tears in her eyes.

Mr. Passmore Williamson had been imprisoned since the summer for participating in a dramatic rescue. A woman and her two sons were to sail north with their owner, but Mr. Williamson, Mr. Still, and five other members of the Vigilance Committee had rushed to the docks, boarded the ship, and informed her that she was free if she so chose. All she had to do was walk off the boat into their care. She did.

All those involved in the rescue were arrested, but only Mr. Williamson remained in jail. The members of the antislavery community had been petitioning the courts for his release for months.

Mr. Still hopped to his feet. “Truly?”

“Yes. Franklin just brought a note from Mr. Williamson himself.”

Mr. Still rushed to the door, pausing to face Olivia. “I am sorry, but I must go.”

Olivia grinned at them both. “Please do not worry. This is the best news.”

And with that, Olivia left. She couldn’t stop smiling as she covered the distance between the two houses. Her heart felt a little lighter. There was so much bad happening all around. She must remember to take the time to celebrate the good.

All was quiet when she stepped into the kitchen. She removed her coat and went upstairs, her worry growing. Why was it so quiet?

When she reached their sitting room door, she saw why. Douglas and Hope had made themselves comfortable on the sofa and had fallen asleep together. A book sat on Douglas’ knee, and Olivia suspected they had fallen asleep while he was reading to her.

She stood in the doorway, studying them. A pang and longing threaded through her heart. The Underground Railroad was rewarding work, and she was glad for it. But she dreamed of having a family too. To tell her children the story of their history. That their grandparents and parents were conductors and stationmasters and took up this sacred work to help others. But for some reason, God had not blessed them yet.

Or maybe He had, even if just for a little while.