Two Wings to Fly Away

by Penny Mickelbury

  “You passed the house—you can’t see it from the road. You must turn around,” Amos Yoder said, which was not a problem for those on horseback. Turning the cart around was a different story. Arthur climbed down and immediately stumbled and fell to his knees. Yoder saw Arthur’s damaged leg and quickly slid down from his place behind Ezra. “Allow me to help, please,” he said to Arthur.

  “I can manage,” Arthur growled.

  “Please, sir, allow me to assist you. This road is—”

  Before Amos could complete his sentence, Arthur went all the way down. William, Ezra and Donald were on the ground with him in a matter of seconds. No one spoke and no one touched Arthur—they knew of the man’s pride—but they stood around him in a semi-circle, ready to offer assistance if he needed it. Muttering unintelligible curses, he pulled himself to his knees using the cart wheels for leverage. Then he looked beyond his circle of friends to Amos Yoder. “You’re right about this road, sir, whatever it is you were about to say. I’d appreciate your help turning this cart around.”

  Yoder knew his rutted road well. He advised the men to walk their horses, then he backed the cart into a path the visitors had not known was there and led the horse forward, a task that proved much easier when Yoder offered the carrot that Arthur gave him. “The horse belongs to a woman who thinks feeding it is a good idea.”

  “It is a good idea,” Amos Yoder said, stroking the appreciative horse between her ears.

  They were wet and freezing when they turned into another path they’d not have known existed without Yoder’s help and guidance. Their unusual procession had almost reached the front door of a farmhouse that was set well back from the road when the front door opened and a very tall, very thin, very old, heavily bearded man stepped out. Amos greeted him in a foreign language and the man replied in the same language. Yoder introduced him as Elmer Briskey, and he looked even older than he had appeared at a distance though there seemed nothing infirm about him. Amos and Elmer talked for a long while. Occasionally they both would look at Ezra and Amos would say something to him. Ezra would reply, and Amos would then interpret for Elmer.

  After a while Elmer looked at the people in his yard, raised his right hand as if taking an oath, and beckoned them forward and everyone followed him around the house to the barn. En route, Ezra quickly shared what he had learned: Three days ago, Elmer Briskey had found two men and a capsized boat washed up on the shoreline behind his house. The two men were barely conscious. He had them brought to his barn. He was about to drag the dinghy into the yard when beneath it he discovered the body of a man. That had been two days ago. Yesterday a second man had died without regaining consciousness. Both of the dead men were in the dinghy covered with snow. The third man, who Amos believed was Jack Juniper, was alive but barely.

  “Why does Amos believe he’s Jack Juniper?” William asked.

  “Because the only word he has uttered is Maggie.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Arthur said. “Let’s get him an’ take him home.”

  “He’s not a man you’d want to take home to his wife,” Ezra said, repeating what Elmer said: The sea and the rocks had beat the man badly. And though they hadn’t known Jack when he was healthy, not one of them wanted to take this man to Maggie Juniper. Not in his current condition.

  “First he’s got to wake up, then we got to clean him up and fix him up,” Arthur said.

  “We’ll get him home, and if he’s still alive we’ll wash and shave him and cut his hair so that he looks like a man instead of a beast. Then we’ll get Maggie and let her fix him,” William said. “She’d want to be the one to get him back to health.” And since he was the only one of them who had a wife, they deferred to him.

  They put Jack on the cart and wrapped him in the blankets and rugs they’d brought. William sat in the cart with Jack’s head in his lap to protect him from the worst the country roads had to offer as Arthur started slowly forward. Ezra was still talking with Amos and Elmer and trying to offer them money, which they were refusing. Ezra continued to talk, and, by all appearances, to beg and plead, until Amos and Elmer reluctantly accepted money from him. Then old man Briskey gave Ezra a parcel and the three men shook hands. Ezra made his way as quickly as possible to his horse and to William’s, which was now tethered to his. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to and overtake the cart, and he led them back to Philadelphia. Just as day had been breaking when they left that morning, it was fading when they returned. They were tired, cold and hungry but they could not see to their own needs until they took care of Jack Juniper.

  It took them an hour to get Jack clean and to rid him of several weeks’ worth of head and facial hair. Adelaide brought beef broth and hot milk with honey and brandy. “What a handsome man!” she exclaimed.

  “You should have seen him an hour ago,” William muttered.

  Jack swallowed most of the broth and opened his eyes but without recognition. He slept again, then took the remainder of the broth. He opened his eyes again and tried to focus them and make some sense of what he was looking at, but the effort was too great. By the time he was halfway through the hot milk and brandy he was sleeping deeply, the way Ezra had slept after his injury.

  “He’ll be all right,” Arthur said, and opened a bottle of horse liniment. And the following morning he was all right enough to ask who they were. When he understood they were Maggie’s friends, tears filled his eyes.

  “Please,” he whispered.

  “We’ll go get her now.”

  “Elizabeth?” Jack whispered.

  “They’re both at Abby’s,” Ezra said, and Jack smiled and fell into a deep sleep. When they were convinced that he was just sleeping and not dying, Ezra bought dinner for everyone at Joe Joseph’s restaurant where the waiter greeted them warmly before demanding to know where Miss Eugenie was.

  Reverend Richard Allen had never seen any of them without Genie being present and it wasn’t a circumstance that he wished to become familiar with. Both Ezra and William tried to reassure him that Genie would have been with them if she hadn’t been busy but he wasn’t to be mollified. “I want her to see what a good job I’m doing! She got me this job and I want her to know that Mr. Joseph, he says I’m doing good and I want her to see!”

  “We will tell her because we can see what a good job you’re doing,” Adelaide said.

  “And when she’s not working, she’ll come see for herself,” Ezra said, thinking he was helping.

  “She ain’t working at that dress store this time of night, ’specially with Miss Adelaide here,” he said darkly.

  “Miss Eugenie does all kinda work, boy, you know that, don’t you?” Arthur growled, giving Reverend Richard a hard look, and he took the meaning. He knew very well that Genie did more than sew.

  “Yessir, I know,” he said quickly. “Y’all enjoy your dinner.”

  And they did enjoy dinner, and breakfast, too, the following morning—all except William and Adelaide who ate at home. Then, rested and fed and assured that Jack Juniper was alive if not yet well, Ezra and Donald went to get Maggie.

  “You will be quiet Elizabeth Juniper, or you will go to your room!” Maggie’s frustration with her daughter’s unbridled exuberance finally spilled over, startling Abby who had entered the kitchen at just that moment. She had been in the front of the house supervising the thorough cleaning in preparation for Christmas—as well as keeping the hired cleaners well away from the kitchen where four Blacks were studying.

  Genie, Maggie, Elizabeth and Eli were seated at the kitchen table for Eli’s lesson and they were using Elizabeth’s alphabet book. She had agreed to help—was, in fact, excited at the prospect of helping this boy she had come to think of as a big brother—but she could not restrain her inclination to show off. She knew more than her big brother! Whenever Genie or Maggie queried Eli, before he could answer Elizabeth would proudly recite the correct response in defiance of all attempts to convince her that not only was she not helping but sh
e was making it more difficult for Eli to learn. She had not understood why a boy older than she was could not already read and write the alphabet and Genie and Maggie had explained that he’d had to go to work, not to school, a fact she had seemed to both understand and accept. The challenge was allowing him to learn at his own pace.

  “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, Auntie Genie.”

  “It is Eli to whom you should apologize,” Maggie snapped, “for it is his lesson you’re ruining.”

  Elizabeth hung her head. “I’m sorry, Eli. I won’t—” The neighing of a horse interrupted her words and the two children leapt to their feet as one and were out the scullery door in an instant. Ezra and Donald had returned! Genie and Abby shared a look that mixed hope and fear, which Maggie didn’t see as she was collecting the paper and pencils and clearing the table.

  Ezra entered then, smiling, and Genie and Abby gave an excited whoop, startling and confusing Maggie, who was even more startled when Ezra came to stand before her. “Jack is at Genie’s waiting for you,” he said.

  It took a moment for Maggie to understand but when she did tears sprung to her eyes. “But how?”

  “Donald and I went to get him,” Ezra replied blandly. Too blandly apparently, for Maggie now was on alert.

  “From where, Ezra? And why didn’t he just send for me when he returned like always?”

  And so Ezra had to explain, as cautiously and gently as possible, but Maggie’s tears flowed and her chest heaved, though she stifled the sobs that threatened to break free at any moment. When Ezra began to explain the ship’s detour to the ports of Baltimore or Charleston, Maggie’s knees buckled. Abby and Genie caught and held her until she regained her balance. She kept trying to catch her breath so could she speak. It proved difficult but she managed a few words between sobs. “He couldn’t go back to Maryland. He’s a runaway from there. He’d rather die than go back there!” Genie and Abby continued to support her on either side but did not speak or attempt to halt her tears. Eventually Genie brought a cloth to wipe her face, and she finally controlled her breathing and managed words: “First you saved my daughter and now you’ve saved my husband. I will never be able to thank you, Ezra, and I will forever be in your debt.”

  Ezra smiled as he took her hands. “After meeting the man, I can understand why you laughed at the thought of me as a husband, but I’d be grateful if you’d agree to make me chicken fricassee on occasion—”

  Maggie hugged him then, laughing through her tears. “Please take me to my husband, you silly man!”

  While Maggie ran upstairs to pack bags for herself and Elizabeth, Ezra quickly told them what he could and promised complete details later. “We’ll take the carriage and Eli if that’s all right?” Ezra asked, and Abby immediately agreed as Maggie bustled back in and they all helped her take her things to the carriage. When Maggie explained where they were going, Elizabeth alternated between excitement and trepidation. How badly was Papa injured and would he be all right? Maggie told her to get into the carriage and be quiet while she turned her attention to Abby.

  “I’m sorry to leave so suddenly and without proper preparations—”

  “Please don’t apologize, Maggie—it isn’t necessary. We will be fine. See to Jack and if he’s well, perhaps the three of you will come for Christmas dinner?”

  “Oh, I won’t be away for so long!” an appalled Maggie exclaimed. “Besides, I must cook Christmas dinner. Or at least assist. And don’t forget that the butcher is saving a prime turkey for us!”

  “I won’t let her forget,” Genie said, “now go!”

  Maggie’s tears started again as she embraced Genie. “And I can’t thank you enough. We’ve never had a place to be a family.”

  “Now you do,” Genie said. “Please make it your home.”

  “You three will return for supper?” Abby asked Ezra.

  “Can you make chicken fricassee?”

  Abby laughed and Genie, with a shrug, allowed that perhaps she could—but not tonight. “But I will bake bread and make a cake.” And with that a happy Ezra climbed into the carriage with Maggie and Elizabeth and pulled the curtains while Donald and Eli sat up top like the professional drivers they were, taking their passengers safely to their destination. Back inside Genie and Abby sat at the table, quiet for a few moments, too emotional to speak. Then Abby got up to brew a pot of tea.

  “I keep trying not to allow myself to think what Jack must have been going through, fighting that rough sea in that small boat.”

  “I keep trying not to allow myself to imagine being returned to Maryland. I’d also choose the sea and I hate water.” Genie had spoken quietly but Abby flinched as if she’d screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “Genie . . .?”

  “I am a runaway slave from Maryland. That is how I know Montague Wright. His sister was my owner and she is more evil than he. He is merely vain and stupid, though apparently, he is a good physician. She is good only at creating misery for others.”

  Something deep within Abby fractured, shattered, broke. “Genie.” She whispered the word as a prayer.

  ✴ ✴ ✴

  “I don’t want her in my house!” Matilda Wright Will shrieked. “I hate niggers, Montague, you know that!”

  “Yes, I do know that,” her brother said, “but I also know that you have no interest in caring for your child—”

  “Don’t call her mine. She belongs to Gilbert. He’s the one who wanted a child, not me.”

  “But it is you who had her, Sister.”

  “Don’t remind me of that horrible experience, or of the even more horrible experience that led to her existence.”

  Montague Wright gave his sister a pitying look. She was miserable but that wasn’t his fault and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Their father had married her to Gilbert Will who was old, ugly, and richer than anyone in the county. For her part, Matilda, at twenty-four, no longer was young, and while she never had been pretty, she was the richest girl in the county—only because there were no women of marriageable age in the Will family. The marriage of the Will and Wright fortunes made Matilda a very wealthy woman. Montague had chosen medicine over plantation management, which destined him to a life of genteel poverty. It was only due to his sister’s generosity that he was able to enjoy external manifestations of wealth: expensive clothes, jewelry, artifacts, and travel to exciting—and expensive—locations, a gift that Matilda now refused him because she no longer was allowed to accompany him. “I’m giving you a girl to care for the child, Matilda, and unless you’d prefer to do the job, the girl’s mother to nurse the child.”

  A horrified Matilda screeched and clasped her bosom. “Most assuredly not.”

  “The girl is about ten years old and she’ll move into the nursery immediately—”

  “I told you, Montague, that I don’t want some filthy nigger upstairs near me!”

  “They cook your food, Matilda, and wash your clothes and clean your house—”

  “And they do it all downstairs where I can’t see them, not up here where I can. And they’re stupid.”

  Montague sighed. “Then hire the tutor for your child now and have her teach the slave to read and write and speak properly. That way the slave can help the tutor teach the child. And I’ll see to it that she bathes daily.”

  Matilda sighed her acceptance. “What is her name?”

  “What is whose name?”

  “The filthy nigger, Montague! Who have we been discussing?”

  “You know that I don’t name them, Matilda. I have no need to since I don’t talk to them unless absolutely necessary.”

  “The tutor will have to call her something, as will the child.”

  “Then you may feel free to name her, Matilda. You choose a name.”

  “I will when I’ve seen her,” Matilda said, and made it clear that wouldn’t be until after Montague had hired the tutor, not an easy task since they lived outside Baltimore in what he called the country. Words like
plantation and farmland, to Montague, meant country. There were cities—Baltimore and Philadelphia and New York and certainly London and Paris. Everything outside those cities was the country, and lettered tutors were loathe to take jobs in places lacking cultural enticements. Unless they were old and penniless and without family. Rebecca Tillson was her name and she had more education than anyone Montague had ever met. She also was weary of cities and welcomed the calm and quiet of the country. She was initially confused to learn that the pupil was an infant. When Montague explained what his sister wanted from the tutor, Miss Tillson initially was resistant. Then she met Matilda and learned that part of her job was to take the infant downstairs to the wet nurse several times a day so that Matilda wouldn’t have to see “her Black ugly face,” and that tutoring the ten-year old girl was so Matilda wouldn’t have to “put up with her Black, ugly, ignorant self,” and the old tutor’s resistance faded. She was no abolitionist, but she did not understand such virulent hatred of people who had no ability to harm. Besides, she knew quite well that Blacks were as intelligent as anyone else if they were properly taught. She made up her mind that the girl Matilda called Clara “because she looks like that black, ugly mule out in the yard named Clara,” would be the most accomplished student of her long and varied teaching life. And she was. The slave girl loved learning as much as Rebecca herself did, and she learned faster and more proficiently than any previous student.

  Gilbert Will named his daughter Victoria after the queen because he admired all things British, and because his wife said she didn’t care what he named the girl. She was not as good a student as Clara, nor was she as interested in learning, but she had her father’s temperament rather than her mother’s, so she was not unpleasant to be around. More importantly, she didn’t interfere with Rebecca’s teaching and Clara’s learning. Because Matilda insisted that her daughter—whose name she could never remember—had only the most fashionable wardrobe, she had Gilbert hire the best seamstress he could find. He found Beate, a German from Philadelphia. She spoke minimal English and no one in the house spoke German—except Rebecca, who agreed to teach the seamstress English if the seamstress would teach Clara to sew. In a very short time the girl named after a mule became as adept as her teacher, making all of little Victoria’s garments and most of Matilda’s while Rebecca and Beate kept each other company, speaking in German so no one knew what they said to each other.