by Naomi Finley
I’d never understood women and had given up trying. I smiled back at her, acting as though I believed the show she was putting on. Resting my head back against the seat, I closed my eyes.
The crackling of paper told me Ruby had withdrawn the paper I’d caught her reading more than once; each time she’d shove it in her pocketbook whenever I drew near. How many weeks had I wondered what was written on the paper that captivated her every thought? I’d lost track.
Ruby might be preoccupied with whatever went on in women’s heads, but I for one was thrilled to be able to catch up with Willow and Whitney and meet Willow’s uncle. The thought of Willow made my heart race. Some days I caught myself daydreaming about what our lives might’ve been like if she’d been open to our fathers’ proposal. Then I told myself it would never have happened. Willow had a mind of her own. No one could tell her otherwise. I smiled to myself as I recalled the day she’d stormed out of the house after her father had revealed his intention of joining our hands in matrimony.
God, she was beautiful, even when she was mad. Yet it was Willow’s heart that held the beauty I admired most. Within her burned passion. I suppose I’d loved her from that moment. Perhaps I always would. But I’d learned if I wanted to be part of her life, friendship was all that would ever be between us. With that understanding, I’d convinced myself I was content.
When we pulled into Livingston, I peeked out the gap between the curtain and the window. Raindrops trailed down the glass. My heart ached as I caught sight of Willow standing on the front veranda. Her hair was flattened by the rain and cupped her face. She’d wrapped her arms around her torso to ward off the chill. I thought of opening my coat and her walking into my arms and finding warmth in my embrace…
“Sir,” the driver said.
Lost in the fantasy, I’d not noticed him open the door. I glanced at Ruby and saw sadness mixed with worry. Confused by the emotional battle she seemed to be in, I opened my mouth to inquire about the turmoil, then reconsidered and stepped out.
Willow
FEBRUARY BROUGHT WITH IT THE blooming of magnolias and the budding of pink, white, and red camellias. The plantation sprang to life, renewed in glorious colors and beauty far more stunning than the greatest artist’s painting.
The day of Ruby and Kip’s arrival, the heavens mocked me with heavy rain clouds. I’d stewed with displeasure before setting out to finish last minute touches. I’d wanted everything to be perfect. To lavish Ruby with Southern hospitality and provide her with a refreshing view of the South. Show her there was beauty and good beyond the bad.
In preparing for Ruby’s arrival, I found a distraction from Bowden’s rejection and the guilt I felt over inflicting pain on Jimmy. A pain I intended to make right. Some way. Somehow, I’d do right by him.
Kip’s family refused to allow a colored to stay in their home and I’d been more than happy for Ruby to spend her time at Livingston. Despite my feelings on the matter, I’d prepared the marriage cabin in the quarters for her arrival. I couldn’t take the chance of wagging tongues by putting her in the house. Putting her in the cabin had caused enough trouble in the quarters. Tillie had reported coming back from the river on washing day and overhearing one woman claim, “She’s colored. ’Cause she’s a freed woman don’t make her no better dan de rest of us. My man’s coming in two weeks’ time and I’d hoped to ask de missus for de cabin.”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t please them all. I heaved a sigh.
Mary Grace, who’d been enthralled with Ruby since our trip to New York, had been chattering all morning while we cleaned the cabin. The lull of her humming was the only thing that’d kept me from sitting down and weeping.
The hearth now gleamed after being raked, swept, and oiled. Wood was stacked neatly in the corner. Shelves were organized, and the floor scrubbed. The window sparkled like new glass. A hooked rug lay on the floor in front of an oak rocker. I glanced around the cabin before going to the small wooden table by the stone fireplace and adjusting the glass vase of pink and mauve wildflowers.
“How many times are you going to rearrange that vase?” Mary Grace laughed. She stood fluffing the recently stuffed straw-tick mattress on the bed in the corner. Against the wall sat my mother’s vanity I had brought down from the house.
Dread had chased me for weeks about telling Ruby that she’d have to sleep in the quarters during her stay.
The door burst open. Jack strode in, blinking the rain from his glee-filled eyes. “They’re coming.”
With the threat of a storm, Whitney had confined him to the house, and he’d been none too happy about it. Sourly, for most of the morning, he’d sat at the window in the parlor that had the best view of the lane leading up to the plantation.
I looked around the small one-room cabin. It would have to do.
“No need to fret. Miss Ruby will understand.” Mary Grace tugged on my hand and smiled knowingly.
Grasping at the belief and understanding in her eyes, I headed for the door.
“You best put this on to save your hair.” Mary Grace handed me my shawl.
I smoothed back the hair escaping my pins and combs. Then I shook my skirt to expel the dust and took one last look around. Everything was in order. Surely my guests would excuse the appearance of their hostess. “A little rain won’t hurt anyone,” I said with a hopeful smile. Besides, could I look any worse?
“That ain’t what ya’ll been saying all day!” Jack said.
“That isn’t, Masa Jack,” Mary Grace corrected, steering him toward the door.
“Ain’t. Isn’t. It’s all the same,” he muttered, allowing Mary Grace to lead him.
Mary Grace opened the door. She removed her shawl and covered her and Jack’s heads as they ran for the house.
At the front of the house, Mary Grace hustled Jack inside as the closed carriage pulled to a stop. Drenched and chilled, I sought cover on the veranda.
The driver jumped down, popped up an umbrella, then strode over and opened the door. A top hat poked out. Then my heart swelled with happiness at the sight of Kip’s face. Kip spotted me and smiled, stepping down. I waved and rose on tiptoe, trying to look past him for Ruby.
The driver stood holding the umbrella over Kip. A movement behind him brought a smile to my lips, but it slipped as a colored man stepped out and closed the door behind him. My heart dropped with disappointment. Had Ruby forgone the trip?
Kip splashed through the puddles as he hurried to find cover on the veranda. The driver ran to keep up with him, followed by the colored man.
A man from the quarters came and took the driver and horses around back.
“What happened? Where’s Ruby?” I said, unable to hide my disappointment.
“I give you Jacob,” Kip sidestepped and the colored man removed his hat and bowed graciously.
“It’s a pleasure,” I said to the man, and eyed Kip. “That’s all well and good. Now, answer my question. Was she ill?”
Kip tipped back his head and laughed. His amusement was completely lost on me.
Mary Grace and Tillie stepped out onto the veranda. “Mary Grace, please see to it that our guest is fed and made comfortable until Kip is ready to leave,” I said to her.
“Sending me on my way already?”
“I thought you’d want to get to your sister’s place before nightfall. I haven’t prepared the guesthouse,” I said as Mary Grace led the man away.
“It’ll do for one night.”
“My uncle’s home, so I suppose it’ll be all right,” I said. “Tillie, please have the guesthouse freshened up.” Tillie curtsied and left.
Kip dipped his head respectfully. “Much appreciated.”
I smiled. “Then welcome to Livingston. I hope your journey wasn’t too tedious.”
“The view at the end of the journey will always be worth it,” Kip said with a wink, offering me an elbow.
Heat infused my face at his remark. I placed my hand in the curve of his elbow as we tur
ned and walked inside.
“WELCOME, MR. KIPLING,” MAMMY SAID with a toothy smile.
“Miss Rita, you look divine.”
“Aw, hush now. Dat sweet talk may work on de young’uns, but not me.” Mammy swatted a hand in the air, but as she took Kip’s coat, pink tinged the tops of her cheeks.
Kip had a way of making everyone feel important, a quality I admired in him.
Whitney and the twins joined us. “Where’s Ruby?” Whitney asked after the twins settled their excitement.
“Oh, Mary Grace took her around back to get cleaned up.” Kip laughed as my mouth dropped open.
“But he…her disguise was so deceiving.” I pushed down the foolishness I felt over not realizing the colored man was Ruby.
“We’ve become good at trickery. But I must say, Ruby was a saint this time. She willingly cut her hair to avoid being detected. Not a lot of women would do that,” he said with admiration.
Ben made his way down the staircase.
“Kip, I’d like you to meet my uncle, Benjamin Hendricks.”
Kip extended a hand. “Sir.”
Pleasantries were exchanged before we moved into the parlor.
“Your niece was to be my betrothed, but she refused in the most hurtful way. I’ve yet to get over it.” Kip placed a hand to his wounded heart.
I laughed at his reminder of my outright rage at Father’s attempt at an arranged marriage.
“Kipling has been talking like a lovestruck woman about this trip for months. Nothing would stop him from coming.” Ruby, clad in a simple peach skirt and ivory blouse, stood in the doorway.
“Now don’t be telling Willow stories of my affections when she’s already spoken for.” Kip’s neck above his collar reddened, and a boyish grin broke across his face.
I didn’t miss the sadness that darkened Ruby’s eyes, and I quickly brushed off Kip’s remark. “I’m so happy you came.” I crossed the room and gathered Ruby in a quick hug.
She stiffly returned my embrace.
I pulled back and did my best to hide my confusion. Was she not as happy to be here as we were to have her? “Children, please go play,” I said.
“Yes, Miss Willow,” they chimed and dashed from the room.
“Ruby, if you’ll follow me.”
“I intend to hold the child you were carrying when you were in New York,” Ruby said as we passed Mary Grace in the corridor. Mary Grace beamed and nodded.
I turned to Ruby and took her hand in mine, beside myself with worry. “There’s something I must speak to you about.”
Ruby glanced past me to a servant as he walked by.
“I hope you’ll understand, but we’ve set up a cabin in the quarters for your stay.”
“That will be lovely,” she said, clearly distracted.
“Unless you’d prefer the kitchen house?” I tried to get a reaction.
“Sure.” Her eyes slid to the servant polishing the staircase.
I glanced at Whitney. She shrugged, obviously as baffled as me.
“Have I done something to displease you?” I waved a hand in front of Ruby’s face.
Ruby set confused eyes on me. “What? No.”
“You seem disconnected or upset,” I said.
“It’s just…it’s…”
“What is it?” I touched her arm.
“Is there a place we can speak in private?”
“Certainly.” I led her down the corridor to the study. Whitney followed. I opened the door and gestured for Ruby to enter, then followed—only to collide with her back.
Whitney tumbled into me. “What in the name of—?” she muttered in exasperation.
Ruby stood frozen. “The woman in the picture, who is she?”
I rubbed the cheek that had collided with her shoulder. “My mother.” I stepped past her into the room and smiled proudly as I turned to look back at Ruby. My smile faded at the shock on her face and the building panic in her dark eyes. “Is something wrong?”
“Your mother…” Her voice fractured, her eyes never leaving the picture.
I looked from the picture to Whitney, and back to the portrait. “Olivia was her name.”
“Olivia…” She rolled the name over her tongue.
“You’re frightening me.” My limbs tingled.
“I know her.”
“That’s impossible,” I sputtered.
“I assure you it’s not.”
What was she saying? My mother was dead. Wasn’t she? Had they all lied to me about that, too?
No. They wouldn’t be that cruel. Would they?
“What Willow’s trying to say is, her mother is dead. But you knew this already…?” Whitney’s forehead furrowed.
Ruby turned to look at us, her dark skin pale. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to confuse you.” She reached for the edge of the desk to steady herself.
Whitney took her by the elbow and guided her to a chair. “Sit,” she ordered. She turned to me. “You too. You look ready to faint.”
The vibrating in my heart made me feel like the walls were pressing in on me. I shuffled to a chair next to Ruby and sank into it.
“That’s the woman,” Ruby said. “The one in my vision. Her eyes are…your eyes.” Her eyes wide, she glanced at the portrait, then back to me. “As sure as I’m here now, she’s indeed the woman.”
She’s mistaken. It isn’t so.
“When I received your letter, I’d dared hope, but the impossibility of it all gave me cause to doubt.”
“Stop.” I held up a hand. My heart thumped in the base of my throat. “You’re talking in riddles. What are you saying?”
“I believe…I believe I’m Mag.”
She became a tiny speckle in my vision and as she continued to speak, her words all jumbled into one.
Mag?
Could…God be righting a wrong of the past? Or was the world playing a twisted prank on us all? The unlikelihood of it all was like capturing a star in your hand.
“Willow!” Whitney said before going to shut the study door.
I shook my head. Rubbed my hands over my face and pulled them down, staring at Ruby. “What makes you think you’re the Mag I mentioned in the letter?”
“I remember the ship. I remember landing in New York. And I remember the name Mag. Like a whisper in the wind, it’s always been there in my head.”
I couldn’t stop the tears that sheeted down my cheeks. Ruby’s voice again became a murmur as my mind wandered. Is it her? Could she be Mag? But what if she isn’t? I can’t give Jimmy false hope. Nausea rumbled in my stomach.
“What do you know of this Mag you wrote about?” Ruby asked.
“My mother found the child hiding on the plantation. She’d escaped the slave traders. They’d hidden in the swamps until Mother thought it was safe. Then they doubled back, and Ben disguised the child as a boy and put her on a ship to New York. You see, we don’t even know if Mag reached New York.”
“Why are you so insistent on finding this child?” Ruby asked.
“Because…because I believe her to be the child of someone very dear to me.”
Ruby’s back straightened, and her eyes sharpened with yearning. “Who is this person?” She swallowed hard.
“His name is Jimmy. He’s a blacksmith here at Livingston.”
“James,” Whitney corrected. “His given name is James. His wife’s name was Nellie.”
“Do you recognize the names?” I asked.
“No,” Ruby said. Her face fell. “I’d hoped…I…”
“We all did,” I said, releasing a deep breath.
“Perhaps I can meet your blacksmith.”
“No!” I gasped, and my eyes flew to her face.
Her eyes grew round, and her lips parted at my outburst.
I hurried to explain. “When I told Jimmy about the name in the ledger and Ben revealed the details of the child, Jimmy was distraught. Told me never to speak of her again.”
“Yet you continue to search for her?”
“But why?”
“Because I can’t give up. If you could only see the ache in his eyes. Losing her broke him.”
“You care for the blacksmith.”
“Like a father.” For the first time, I spoke the feelings in my heart.
Dangerous words. Words that were my truth. Feelings that could bring harm to Jimmy and me both.
“He must be quite a man, to bring on such feelings.”
“He’s extraordinary. Wise. Intelligent. Good at whatever he puts his hands to. He’s been there for me through many dark times in my life. Guided me…and, I like to believe, loved me.”
“Will you introduce me to this man?”
“If you promise not to mention my letter. We must also be certain you are Mag. I can’t risk breaking his heart again.”
“Understood.”
“Very well, then. Let us show you to your quarters,” I said.
OVER THE NEXT DAYS, RUBY mingled with the folks in the quarters. Some welcomed her into their cabins, and others stood back and scrutinized the Northern freed black in her fancy clothes with her educated speech.
Ruby, if aware of their rebuff, hadn’t allowed it to deter her from helping them. I’d stood back, mesmerized by the way she handled and soothed a sick child. She’d moved from cabin to cabin, gracing people with her time and kindness, playing nursemaid to those who needed tending. She radiated beauty far greater than the beauty one sees at first glance. Kimie became her shadow, and Ruby devoted her time to teaching her the skills she’d learned from years of helping the sick in the slums.
Nights for Ruby were spent sitting with the folk and listening to their stories. I yearned to sit amongst them and shed the burden of being the Lady of Livingston. From my window, I’d watched them gathered around the fire and imagined them sharing with her the memories of their lives before coming to Livingston. I wanted to feel their pain and rejoice in the pretense of happiness they projected. For it didn’t matter how I tried to make life better for the people of the quarters, they could never be happy in a life where free will didn’t exist.
One day, from the doorway of the forge, I watched Ruby coming back from the river on washing day. She fit in where I’d never belonged amongst the people I’d loved since I was a little girl; where my heart pulled me, but society would never permit me.