Passages of Hope

Mr. Still, Mr. Wilson, and Thea arrived at Olivia’s house just before sunset. Olivia took a seat on the sofa, and Douglas sat very close to her. Hope had fallen asleep, and every time Olivia looked down at her in her arms, tears returned afresh. Beulah was dead, and Hope was an orphan. Beulah had suffered great hardship to get herself and her daughter to freedom. Both had found it. One in Olivia’s home. The other in the great by-and-by.

Olivia knew that they had gathered to come up with a plan, but she was unable to contribute. Thankfully, Douglas kept some of his wits, but his eyes were still red from the tears they had cried together.

None of her passengers had affected her like this. It was hard not to have strong feelings doing work for the Underground Railroad, but she had managed to keep an emotional distance from her passengers. It was almost a requirement. Care with the understanding that the passengers would move on, must move on. To send them from her heart in order to accept others.

But not with Beulah and Hope. That distance had closed the minute she saw Hope in Beulah’s arms and the desperate look on Beulah’s face. Olivia’s heart broke anew. Beulah traveled all the way to freedom only to die alone.

“We will find a place for the child,” Mr. Still said. “I was planning to ask Mrs. Brasewell but delayed until we knew something of the child’s mother. I can check tomorrow.”

“Maybe longer.” Mr. Still sat across from them. “Mrs. Brasewell runs one of the few orphanages in this area and is usually caring for as many children as she can.”

Olivia shuddered at the thought of Hope in a home with strangers. “You know she can stay here as long as she needs. It is not as if we have children of our own to care for.”

She felt Douglas shift beside her. She looked at him. His eyes were filled with pain.

Mrs. Wilson gave her a sympathetic look. “Of course, Milly can continue to come around and help when you need it.”

Mr. Still leaned forward. “We did everything we could for Beulah, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. She got herself and her child to freedom. Our job is ensuring that Hope has the life that Beulah suffered and sacrificed for.”

Olivia looked down at Hope, her heart breaking. This sweet child could not go into an orphanage. She needed a family. Someone to teach her to read. “Yes, of course.”

“If you are willing to care for Hope until we can find another solution, I will agree that is the best option,” Mr. Still said. “The child is still too frail and small to travel farther north to another orphanage.”

“The next order of business, I think, would be finding out who this Logan fellow is,” Mr. Wilson said.

“I have put everyone I can on alert, but no one seems to know who he is.” Mr. Still steepled his hands. “I tried to find out at the jail who brought Beulah in.”

“If it was him, why didn’t he just take her back to the South?” Thea asked.

“Maybe he was waiting to find out where Hope was,” Olivia said quietly. “Once Hope grew up, she would fetch a good price at auction.”

They all sat in silence for a few moments. “If the owner knew Hope existed. Beulah could have hidden her from her owner. It has happened many times before,” Thea finally said.

“That still does not change the fact that someone is luring fugitives away from the station houses,” Douglas said. “How could they do this without watching your movements?”

“Maybe they’re not,” Olivia said. “Remember, Beulah said she met Logan before she reached here. Maybe it is all prearranged.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Mr. Wilson said. “If that is so, why not take them then? Why arrange a later meeting?”

“Maybe we can have the stationmasters speak to all the fugitives we have hidden right now,” Douglas suggested. “Maybe they know something but don’t realize it.”

Olivia glanced at him, her heart swelling at his use of the word we. He, unaware of the love and pride swelling in her heart for him, squeezed her hand.

“An excellent idea.” Mr. Still rubbed his hands together. “We will send word around to ask. I will start asking the fugitives coming in about Logan. Maybe the connection to all this is him.”

“There is something else I was planning to relay before …” Olivia shook her head and forced herself to continue. “I have a strange new customer.” She told them about Mrs. Johnson and her trip to the Shipper’s Inn and Mr. Abrams’s information about her.

Mr. Still stood. “I will ask Mr. Abrams if he recognizes any of the men visiting Mrs. Johnson. I find it interesting that all these unknown people have shown up in the area now.”

“Me too,” Olivia said. They had seen something like this before. Slave catchers flooding the city. It normally happened in late October and November because that was the most favorable conditions for a fugitive to run. And where the fugitives went, the slave catchers followed.

Mr. Still walked over to Olivia and placed his hand on Hope’s head. “She is so peaceful. It is a hard thing for a child to be in the world without a mother.”

They left quietly, and Olivia carried Hope upstairs to their bedroom while Douglas extinguished the lamps. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding the sleeping child to her chest. Another flood of tears coursed down her cheeks. How could her heart break for someone she barely knew? How could it hurt this bad? She had never tried to fool herself that she should avoid all feeling for the fugitives. Their pain and their stories became a part of her story the minute they came into her house.

Hope was different. She was a child alone in the world. No known family. Beulah told Mr. Still that she did not have any more family than Hope. If she did, Olivia would move heaven and earth to reunite them. But this baby had no one but her and Douglas.

Douglas came into the room and paused at the door, staring at her. Then he came to sit next to her. “This is heartbreaking.”

“I wish I could have done more.” The tears were falling freely now. “Protected her better.”

If Olivia didn’t know the baby was too young, she would have sworn that Hope knew about what was happening in the wider world. She seemed to know her mother was gone. In the days following Beulah’s death, Hope clung to Olivia and Douglas, crying for the first time when she awakened in her basket bed but didn’t see either of them. Olivia soothed the girl, singing a soft lullaby, until she stopped crying. But she ended up having to hold her for the rest of the day.

Since she was running out of time to finish Mrs. Johnson’s dresses, Olivia employed Milly to come and sit with Hope more often. Milly happily agreed. The two of them had grown attached to each other. Olivia would watch them together, her heart breaking in advance for the day when all of them would have to say goodbye to Hope. She had had no word from Mr. Still that one of the orphanages had a bed for Hope. Olivia began to count every day as a stolen blessing.

Sitting at her table, Olivia trained her attention on the dress in front of her. The fifth one Mrs. Johnson had ordered. It was almost done. She also turned her attention to the woman herself. Mr. Abrams had continued to watch her, but nothing had changed. Mrs. Johnson still came and went at the Shipper’s Inn as before. She also still continued to meet with different men in the inn’s parlor. Solving that mystery would have to wait.

The front door opened and Franklin came in. “Hi, Miss ‘Livia.” He went over to the babe, took a piece of sweet bread from a napkin in his pocket, and gave it to her.

Olivia fought back a laugh and tried to sound stern. “You have to stop bringing her treats.”

“That’s okay. I always keep a piece in my pocket.” He patted his pocket and then seemed to remember why he had come. “I have a note for you.”

He pulled it from his pocket, and Olivia took it. She immediately recognized Mr. Still’s handwriting.

I know what we agreed, but we have a party of friends just arriving in the area.

They will only need one night’s accommodations. We will be dividing the party between several houses. There will only be two, brothers, coming to your house. If this is acceptable, they shall arrive at your door after sundown with Mr. Wilson.

Please send word back by our young messenger.

W. Still

She folded the letter and put it in her pocket. “Tell him this is acceptable.” They had agreed that Olivia would resume taking fugitives after something was decided with Hope, but with Douglas involved, she could do it sooner. Her heart warmed. He would help. At least with this part. After Hope was settled, she would have to find a way to return to her previous level of secrecy.

Milly shot him a quizzical glance. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked in a tone that only a big sister could.

“That man’s been followin’ me.” Franklin took a step back away from the window.

Olivia looked out the window and saw Saunders standing across the street. It was not unusual to have patrols around, but seeing Saunders so often sent alarm bells ringing in her mind.

“Stay here for a minute. If he continues to watch the house, you can go out the back door,” Olivia said. “But you need to let Mr. Still know that he followed you.”

“Delivering the bread like always,” Franklin said. “That man was standing outside, watching everyone walking up and down the street. Like he was guarding the place.”

Olivia gave Franklin a smile, not wanting to alarm him. “Do you have any other pressing deliveries?”

“No,” he said. “Just going back to Mr. Still with your answer to his message.”

They waited a quarter of an hour, and when they checked again, Saunders was gone. Olivia hustled Franklin out the door and told him to get to Mr. Still’s house as fast as he could. She and Milly spent the rest of the day jittery, jumping every time the door opened.

When Douglas came in, Olivia sighed with relief and gave him a hug. “I am so glad you are home.”

He froze. “Is all well?” She released him quickly. Surely he thought her affection would be strange after her being reserved for so long. He studied her for a moment then looked past her to where Hope and Milly were sitting on the floor.

“I am not certain, but I was wondering if you could escort Milly home. Saunders followed her brother here,” Olivia said. “We will have dinner when you get back.”

Douglas nodded and helped Milly with her coat, and then Olivia locked the door behind them. A sense of dread continued to grow in her mind, and she was nearly shaking by the time Douglas got back.

He came in wearing a frown. “She made it home safely. Mr. Wilson told me Saunders was in his grocery this afternoon.”

Olivia sat down next to Hope, her emotions sinking. “Saunders must have figured something out.”

“He watches Mr. Still’s house all the time. Maybe he put the pieces together by seeing how often Franklin and I go in and out of Mr. Still’s house.”

Douglas sat down in the seat next to Olivia and placed his hand on hers. “Obviously, he does not know too much, or he would have arrested you by now.”

“If he keeps watching, he will figure something out.” She glanced over at Hope who was feeding herself fistfuls of potatoes. She moved to divide the food into smaller bites. “Mr. Still sent me a note today. He wants to know if I can …” She paused. “If I can work tonight.”

“It will be well after Hope falls asleep, so you can go to bed as usual.” She turned her attention to her plate.

“Nothing is as usual now.” He said the words with so much conviction, Olivia looked up.

They finished their dinner, and Douglas played a bit with Hope. But Hope, who must have been tuckered out from all the excitement of the day, was soon nodding off. Douglas carried her upstairs, and Olivia got her little bed ready.

As he lowered her to the bed, Douglas asked, “Do you think we should get a crib?”

Olivia watched Hope adjust in the little basket and drift back to sleep. “Is that wise, since we do not know how long Hope will be with us? Mr. Still is checking with Mrs. Brasewell for a spot at her children’s home.” The thought of sending Hope away soured her stomach. Maybe she would tell Mr. Still that Hope could stay longer—maybe forever. She shook the thought away. Hope was not theirs.

“She will soon be too big for the basket. Besides, we will eventually need a crib for our own children.”

She fought back tears. Douglas was right. God had already blessed them with Hope. Why not more?

After one more check on Hope to make sure she was sound asleep, Olivia returned downstairs.

As she was removing the panel, Douglas came down. He had changed into the clothes he used to work in their summer garden. “What do we need to do?”

“I know you do not need me, but I want to help.” Douglas took a step forward.

“But if you know what I am doing, how will I keep you safe?” Her words came out as a strangled plea.

She looked down at her shoes, unable to argue against his point. Danger had come close to him, and if Saunders was watching the house, what would stop him from following Douglas to his work? Olivia fought to keep Douglas from knowing what she was doing, but Saunders was unaware of that.

Douglas gave her a smile and went to work. He carried the basket, and Olivia went before him with a lamp. They sat on the little cot, waiting for Mr. Wilson to knock on the door.

Douglas exhaled. “I have never been down here this long. It must get dark with no lamp.”

Olivia shifted to face him. “It does, but I try and make it as comfortable as possible.”

“I am certain you do, but it is hard to imagine what the fugitives go through to get here. And then to come to this dark room.”

Olivia swallowed. She knew. Miles and miles of walking. Pain. Hunger. Cold and heat. “But when they get here, they are free for the first time in their lives.”

She looked at him. The faint lamplight cast flickering shadows over his face and made it difficult to read his expression.

The clock upstairs chimed ten, its tones floating down the stairs like mist. Olivia froze. “Something is not right. They should have been here by now.”

Olivia shook her head. “That is not how it works. They come to me. I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking.”

Just then, they heard a noise. Not a knock on the door, but something clattering against it. Neither of them spoke, taking quiet breaths. After a moment, the sound came again. Olivia’s eyes widened and her blood chilled as she recognized the sound.

She turned to Douglas. “That is the signal Mr. Wilson is to use when it is not safe for them to come in. We need to go up and extinguish the lights as if we are going to bed. To show we know they are not coming tonight.”

Douglas grabbed the basket, and as fast as they could, they extinguished the lamps in the house. When they got to their bedroom, Olivia turned off the lamp and the room went dark. As her eyes were adjusting, she heard Douglas say, “Olivia, come look at this.”