CHAPTER SIXTEEN

OLIVIA

In a week’s time, Olivia and Douglas had gotten a little better rhythm of caring for Hope. A pleasant rhythm.

Milly continued to come over to sit with Hope when Olivia had customers. Otherwise, Hope spent her days playing on the floor or sleeping in her basket. No matter how tired he was after work, Douglas always dropped to the floor to play with Hope for a few minutes when he came through the door. The little girl had fallen into the rhythm too. She began watching the door each day around the time Douglas would come home. Every now and then, Hope would wake in the night and begin to wail. On those nights, Olivia and Douglas moved with speed to comfort her.

The only challenge now was that Hope being in their lives was another topic they could not talk about.

Olivia had awakened this morning, Douglas still sleeping beside her and Hope sleeping in her little basket bed. She had come down and started breakfast. When she returned, she found that Hope had climbed into the bed with Douglas. Or he had gotten up and placed her there. Either way, her heart warmed.

When Douglas came down for breakfast, he brought Hope and her basket with him. She was fully dressed, and Olivia laughed at Douglas’ attempt to arrange the baby’s hair. “Good morning,” she said.

She took Hope from him and sat her at the table where Olivia already had prepared eggs for her. Hope dug right in. Douglas sat Hope’s basket bed by Olivia’s sewing table. “Good morning.” He looked at Hope. “Her appetite is recovering.”

“That it is.” Hope had significantly improved. Her skin had almost lost its sickly pallor. She was more active but still not making the noises that normal children would make. But then, she hadn’t had any kind of normal life. Douglas said that he thought the girl may be eighteen months or so based on how many teeth she had, but she was much smaller than she should be for that age. With time and continued care, Douglas was sure she might grow to a more normal size.

What neither of them was saying, however, was who would be caring for her.

Olivia sat down, and Douglas took the chair across from her. “Any word from Mr. Still?”

Olivia shook her head. “I had planned to send him a note today. But if he had any news, he would have let me know.”

Douglas looked at the little girl. “I hope they find Beulah.”

They gave thanks for their meal and for Hope, who was almost done with hers, and ate in silence. Finally, Douglas spoke. “When will you have to work again?” he asked, his eyes drifting to the door to the secret room.

She studied him for a minute. “Mr. Still thinks it may be best not to send more passengers until we have the matter with Hope settled.”

“Hmm,” Douglas said. “I think—”

A loud pounding on the door cut him off. Olivia jumped. So did Hope, but she didn’t cry. Olivia lifted her from the chair.

“I’ll get it.” Douglas exited the room in long strides, and she heard him open the front door.

She wondered what he was going to say. In a moment, she heard Milly’s excited voice. She rushed from behind the staircase to see Milly removing her coat. “Let me take her,” Milly said.

Olivia handed the child over, frowning. “Milly, I was not expecting you to come today.”

“My ma sent me round to take care of Hope. Mr. Still found her mama. She’s in jail.” Milly bounced Hope in her arms. “You have to go now. Mama said she’s in a bad way.”

Olivia stood stunned for a second, then went into motion. “Hope has had her breakfast.”

Douglas rushed to the coatrack and snatched up their coats. “I’m coming too.”

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but Douglas held up a hand. “If Beulah is bad, someone may have fetched me anyways. Not many white doctors will tend to a fugitive.”

Olivia, her words as scrambled as her thoughts, only nodded. Douglas grabbed his medical bag and ushered her out the door.

The jail sat a block from the port. Walking at a quick pace, she and Douglas reached the small squat building in fifteen minutes. Mr. Still and Mr. Wilson stood outside the building. They looked up in surprise when they saw Douglas accompanying Olivia.

“We tried to go in and see her, but the jailer believes we are going to whisk her away,” Mr. Wilson said, turning to Douglas. “But you two may be able to get in since you are a doctor. We were told that she is very sick.”

“I will do what I can,” Douglas said, moving to the door. Olivia followed behind him.

The jail was rank and dark. The only person not in a cell was the jailer, a thin sneering man. “I already told them two outside I ain’t lettin’ no one in to see the girl.”

“I am a doctor,” Douglas said.

“A colored doctor? Sure you are.”

“I assure you I am. And are you sure that the girl’s owner will like that you turned away a doctor? He probably will appreciate you taking good care of his property,” Douglas said.

Although Olivia flinched at the word property, Douglas kept his tone level and matter-of-fact, which was more than she could have managed in the moment. The jailer scratched his face. “Guess it won’t hurt, unless you kill her.” He led them to Beulah’s cell, and Olivia had to bite the inside of her cheek not to cry at the sight that met them.

Beulah lay on a blanket on the floor. Her breathing was heavy. The jailer opened the door, and Olivia rushed in, Douglas only a step behind her. Beulah didn’t open her eyes when Douglas began his ministrations. The jailer stood at the door and watched.

Douglas put a thermometer in her mouth. “She has a high fever,” he said, leaning over so only Olivia heard.

Speaking just as low, she answered, “She was unwell earlier but not this bad.”

Douglas listened to her lungs, gave Olivia a grim look, and shook his head.

Olivia looked down at Beulah’s troubled face. It had only been a little more than a week since Beulah disappeared, but she’d grown much worse in that short time. Where had she been? She must have been under horrible conditions, because she appeared to be on the mend when she left Olivia. Which was why, Olivia suspected, that Beulah had left her child behind. If she was this bad, how much worse would Hope have fared?

Douglas turned to the jailer. “Can my wife fetch some water to bathe her face?”

The jailer laughed. “You shoulda brought everything you needed in with ya. And hurry it along.”

Douglas gave Olivia a sad look. “She will not survive long like this.” He glanced around the jail. It was cold and drafty and there was no light. Not to mention the filthy, threadbare blanket Beulah was lying on.

Olivia’s heart sank. She wanted to lift Beulah into her arms and comfort her but knew she could not. “Mrs. Kingston?” Beulah’s voice creaked.

She and Douglas shot a quick glance at the door. The jailer had stepped to another cell and was loudly berating the prisoner there.

Olivia looked down and saw that her eyes were open but only to a slit. “Yes, Beulah?”

“Hope.” The way she said the word, Olivia was unsure if she was asking about her daughter or giving Olivia a command to expect this to turn out better.

Douglas leaned closer to Beulah. “She is well,” he whispered soothingly. “We will do whatever we can to get you back to her.”

Beulah’s expression seemed to brighten for a moment, but then she frowned deeply. “Was tricked.”

Olivia leaned in, her mind trying to make sense of what Beulah had said.

“Who was tricked?” Olivia asked.

“Me.” She breathed heavily. “Logan.”

“Is Logan the person who tricked you?” Douglas asked.

Beulah looked at him. “He said—” She groaned. “He said he came to help. That he was a friend.”

Alarm raced through Olivia. “Did he come into the house?”

“No. I went out.” She blinked. “He told me to come out when I was with the other man.”

Olivia frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “What other man?”

“Mr. Lloyd.”

Olivia’s scalp tingled. Mr. Wilson had said that something strange had happened with Beulah and Mr. Lloyd. Douglas looked to Olivia for an explanation, and Olivia mouthed, Later.

Olivia made her voice even lower. “What did Logan look like?”

“White. Blue eyes. Tall.” Her head rolled to the side, her eyes closing. “Tricked more than just me. Took us to another house and locked us in a room. When I got sick, they brought me here.” Her eyes closed, and Olivia held her breath until Beulah took another one.

They. With that word, Olivia’s worry turned to terror. They meant that the Friends had a bigger problem than they realized. That they needed to be on guard for several people.

“Can you tell me anything else?”

Beulah blinked, worked her mouth, and then closed her eyes. Olivia asked her again, but it was clear that Beulah had run out of strength to talk.

Douglas checked her for a heartbeat and then rose. “She is still breathing, but I suspect not for much longer. Not much more we can do.” He offered Olivia a hand. It took all her strength to stand and leave Beulah alone in what were probably her last hours.

As they turned to leave, Beulah said from behind them, her voice a hoarse whisper, “If … if I don’t live, be Hope’s mama and daddy.”

They both turned. Beulah lay there, eyes closed, like she had not spoken.

The jailer rushed over to them. “Out. You been here long enough,” he barked.

Douglas took Olivia’s hand and led her out of the cell, tears in his eyes as well as hers.