Passages of Hope

Olivia looked over at Hope sleeping in her little basket bed and smiled. She had fallen asleep shortly after lunchtime, and Olivia had raced to her sewing table to finish the hem on the dress she was working on. Douglas had cleared Olivia to return to her activities a few days after she arrived home. She had only had a few bouts of dizziness, but they were not frequent. She had gone back to her customers and taking passengers into her room. Fugitives looking for assistance had continued to arrive, and Olivia was glad to return to helping them, even if it took some reordering of her life.

Hope was her first priority. Of course, she had Douglas to help, and with some coordination, they could manage the passengers in their room. Douglas took on more duties, including working as a conductor one night. Milly loved Hope as much as Douglas and Olivia did, so she was always happy to sit with the little girl when Olivia had customers. She and Douglas found that despite the extra responsibility of caring for a child, they could continue their work.

Hope had become a part of their life, a ray of sunshine. She had started to make noises but no words yet. She had also begun to move a lot more, keeping Olivia on her toes and guarding her pins even closer. The child still loved the sound of them all hitting the floor. Only a few days had passed since Beulah died, but it seemed longer to Olivia.

When someone knocked on the door, Olivia opened it to find Mr. Still standing on the doorstep.

He walked into the room, his eyes going to Olivia’s sewing table. “This looks like how I left Lucretia this morning.” Then he saw Hope sleeping. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“I saw Mrs. Brasewell this morning, and she said she can accommodate Hope now,” he said, his tone neutral. But the effect the news had on Olivia’s heart was not.

“Yes. She wants you to bring the child tomorrow and get her settled. She said you and Douglas are welcome to come and visit the child anytime you like.”

“I will do everything in my power to see that Hope grows up well and has everything she needs.” Mr. Still turned to the door. “Unfortunately, I have to go. I am on my way to a meeting and thought I would relay the message in person.”

She stayed in the haze of shock the rest of the day. Everything Hope did was more precious to her. Several times when Hope smiled at her, Olivia confused the child by crying in response. She eventually managed to control her emotions a little, but then Douglas arrived home from work.

He came through the door and immediately lifted Hope into his arms. “Hello,” he said, kissing the child on the forehead. When he came and planted a kiss on Olivia’s cheek, he slowed. “Is everything all right?”

They sat, Douglas watching her the whole time. Then he asked, “Are you not feeling well again?”

“I am well.” She steadied herself. “Mr. Still visited today. He said that there is space at the orphanage for Hope.”

She watched Douglas think through the words. Then he clutched Hope closer. “An orphanage,” he said in a tone that was not quite a question.

He frowned. “An orphanage,” he said again. He looked at Hope, who was now trying to put her fingers in his mouth. “But we are the only people she knows.”

Douglas pressed his lips together, but his expression said everything she was feeling.

Olivia left them and went back to working on the hem, although it turned out to be an exercise in futility. She could not focus her thoughts enough to sew straight.

She should have known this was coming. That one day they would have to give up Hope. She was not theirs, and the agreement was for them to care for her temporarily. But Olivia’s feelings were too strong for temporary care.

She and Douglas had been trying to have children for years, but none had come from their trying. Douglas had regularly assured her that it would happen one day, but in her heart, Olivia wondered if it would. They had no children even though they desperately wanted them.

What if Hope was God’s way of sending them a child? If she was the blessing He had sent to them? It could not be a more perfect arrangement. She and Douglas had no children. Hope had no parents. Could they—she paused in her very poor sewing—could they be her parents? Beulah had asked them to be Hope’s mama and daddy. The thought seemed too good to be true. She turned and looked at Douglas, who was reading a book to Hope. It would be perfect.

By the time they sat down to dinner, Olivia had managed to find her courage and the words. Douglas said a blessing over the food, his tone bittersweet. Olivia kept her head lowered even after the prayer was finished. She lifted her fork but then put it back down.

She heard Douglas’ fork clank against the plate. She looked up and found him staring back at her. Then they were both speaking at the same time.

Douglas bolted out of his chair and came to kneel next to Olivia’s chair, his eyes full of expectation. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. I cannot bear to think of her going there.” She took Douglas’ hand. “I know we believe that God will give us children. But what if He already has?”

They both looked at Hope, who was focused on the mashed potatoes and was wearing a large streak of it on her cheek, oblivious to how her life had just changed for the better.

Olivia went to her sewing table and gathered the needed supplies with a shaky hand and wrote:

Dear Mr. Still,

I have a matter I would like to discuss with you. Douglas and I would like to adopt Hope. Can you please advise us on how to proceed? We pray that one day after the horrible practice of slavery is outlawed, as we all hope it will be soon, we will be able to officially adopt her. Her arrival at our house for shelter has changed our lives, and we want to change hers.

Of course, our work of receiving passengers will have to resume after we have established a routine with Hope. If, however, there is any other assistance Douglas and I can give, please send word to us.

A final note. We are considering changing Hope’s name to Beulah Hope Kingston in honor of her mother. We want Beulah Hope to always remember what her mother did for her and carry her name with honor.

Yours faithfully,
Olivia Kingston

When she was done, she returned to where Douglas still sat at the table, Hope sleeping in his lap. She read him the letter. He paused for a moment and then said, “It is perfect.”