The Way of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  A warm hand touched hers, and Faith turned to see the tears in her mother’s eyes. She knew. She understood that Faith wasn’t teary in celebration but in sorrow. Their fingers laced together, and Mother gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Remember verse thirty-seven of tonight’s reading. ‘For with God nothing shall be impossible,’” her mother whispered.

  Faith nodded. “I’m trying to.”

  The trip back to Portland had barely gotten underway when Faith went searching for Andrew. She had wrapped the scarf around the hat and carried them just inside her coat. She hoped he’d be pleased with the gift but knew it might be awkward. With that in mind, she’d practiced what she’d say and how she would say it. She knew she could make it clear that this wasn’t anything important.

  “Miss Kenner, it’s good to see you again,” Andrew said, coming down from the wheelhouse.

  “I thought we had progressed to Faith and Andrew.”

  He grinned. “Yes, we had. Faith.”

  “Thank you, Andrew.” She reached inside her coat and pulled out the hat and scarf. She pushed them toward him, already apologizing. “Now, don’t make more of this than is needed. When I was with you on Christmas Eve, you had no hat and scarf. I decided to make you a scarf, and my mother helped by making the hat. We just wanted to ensure that you are well-protected on your river runs.”

  “Ever the doctor, eh?” He unwrapped the bundle and considered each piece but said nothing.

  Faith could hardly bear it. “It also gave me something to do with my hands while visiting with my family, so please understand that it’s not a gift that should make you feel in any way obligated. I simply like to be useful and help people when I can. Speaking of which, I hope Ben is doing well.” She knew she was rambling but didn’t feel comfortable stopping. “Does he need a hat and scarf as well?”

  Andrew looked up. His eyes, such a dark brown, seemed to grow darker still. “They are the best quality. I’m very touched that you would spend your holiday working on them for me.”

  Faith swallowed the lump in her throat and found her mouth very dry. She nodded and forced a smile. Grief, what was wrong with her? This shouldn’t be that hard. It was just a gesture of kindness.

  Andrew pulled the scarf around his neck. “I had a good wool hat but lost it on one of my trips. I kept meaning to purchase another.” He looped the scarf around and tucked it inside his coat with a smile. “Already warmer.” He took off the billed hat that he usually wore and pulled on the red cap. “It’s a perfect fit.” He smiled. “Thank you, Faith. I wish I had something to give you in return.”

  “That’s not necessary. I didn’t do it for that reason.” Her voice was barely a whisper. There was something about this man that made her feel small, yet they were almost evenly matched in height. He might have two or three inches on her, but no more.

  “I know, I’ll give you free passage on the Morning Star next time you sail. Although I’m sure to be getting the better part of this exchange.”

  Faith felt herself begin to relax. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “The fact is, I like you. You have a spirit that few women exhibit. You are fearless and face the world with a sense of authority. Few women could have done what you did, taking charge of my wound. You’re studying to be a doctor, so I know the things you see and deal with must be more than most women could bear.”

  “Women bear a lot and get little credit for it.” Faith thought of all the injuries she and her brothers had endured over the years of their youth. Her mother was always there to patch them up. From time to time, she had to tend Father’s wounds as well.

  “Still, I’ve never known anyone quite like you, and I admire you.”

  Her cheeks grew hot. “Thank you, Andrew. I admire you as well. Your kindness to people of color, Indians in particular, impresses me. Few white men consider Indians to be human, much less their equal.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe they’ve just never bothered to get to know one.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Maybe they’d be better men if they did.”

  CHAPTER 7

  College classes hadn’t yet resumed, but Faith saw Gerome Berkshire was giving a lecture and pondered the possibility of attending. She knew enough to be wary of him—even suspicious of the topic of his lecture—yet she felt drawn to the event. At the last minute, she slipped into the back of the room, hoping she’d blend in nicely with the others. If she was fortunate, Berkshire would never even notice her there.

  “I am honored to speak to you tonight,” Berkshire declared after another man announced him. The man had sung Gerome Berkshire’s praises and no doubt left the pompous fool feeling infallible.

  “Most of you have heard me speak before, and during those orations, you probably remember the strong stance I took against black residency in Oregon.”

  There were some murmurs and nods. Faith tried not to show her feelings one way or the other.

  “Tonight I want to speak to you about why my stand in this matter is so critical to our state and why it should be important to you.” He took a sip of water and continued. “As you know, when the great migration west began, people in this territory chose to implement laws that made it illegal for a black man or woman to reside here. The wagon masters of the Oregon Trail were charged with refusing passage in their trains to any people of color who intended to settle in Oregon.

  “After all, we already had the Indian to deal with. Those were dark days in many ways, and we were misjudged and condemned by some Easterners for our desires and beliefs as it pertained to race. Now, lest you misunderstand me, hear me out. I am not, as some people think, one of those who believes the only solution to deal with the Indian or black is to kill them. I am quite amenable to rounding them up and assigning them land elsewhere or even removing them to nations of people of their own kind.”

  Faith was amazed at the number of people who nodded in approval. How could they believe that such things were acceptable—that God approved the driving away of one race for the so-called betterment of another?

  “Many of us who believe in segregated living are often condemned, but even the Bible shows how God called the Jewish people to live apart from other tribes. They weren’t to intermarry with non-Jewish people.”

  Faith rolled her eyes and might have commented on how Jesus made it clear that there was no longer to be Jew or Gentile, but Berkshire was already well into his next thoughts on the matter. She couldn’t believe these people openly accepted his philosophies.

  “Now, I’ve also heard the arguments against the progressive idea that the blacks, Orientals, and Indians aren’t human. But it’s clear that the various skin colors signal different bodies and functions. I’ve heard that blacks have an entirely different muscular system than that of the white man. How, then, can we be the same? It is more than skin color that separates us and more than having two legs and walking upright that might join us together as human beings.”

  Several men responded with a rousing, “Hear! Hear!” Faith felt ill. How could people think this way? She had heard plenty of people who held the same opinion, but as always, when confronted by it, she was almost stupefied. She remembered some of the classes she’d attended where she’d been introduced to such thinking. At first it had been impossible to believe that anyone would accept such philosophies as truth. Then another book or speaker would share their foreign beliefs, urging the youth of the world to open their eyes to new thinking. Craving ideals that separated them from the old, tired standards of their parents, Faith had watch young students soak up the words.

  Berkshire’s command of the room was growing. Faith could hear how carefully he crafted his comments, increasing his volume or lowering it for effect. She could see how easily persuaded people were to believe that the man on the podium somehow knew all the answers that they so desperately sought.

  She’d had enough. When the man beside her began coughing and excused himself from the lecture, Faith followed as t
hough she were his companion.

  “Are you all right, sir?” she asked when he looked back at her.

  “Just a bit of winter cold lingering.” He smiled and gave her a bow. “Thank you for your concern.”

  He turned away and left her standing just outside the lecture hall. Faith shook her head. She felt contaminated, but not from the man’s cough.

  “Miss Kenner.”

  She looked up to find Mr. Lakewood. She was certain from things Nancy had said that he believed much the same as Berkshire, so she had no smile to offer him. Still, he was an important donor to the college. She needed to be civil.

  “Mr. Lakewood.”

  “Are you ill?”

  She pulled her wool wrap more tightly around her shoulders. “I was feeling a bit under the weather and thought I’d return home. Thank you for asking.”

  “My carriage is just outside. Might I drive you?”

  She nodded without thinking. “That would be kind.” Only then did she think of what some people might say about her riding alone with a man who wasn’t a family member.

  Grief, I am always breaking societal rules, whether it’s because of my bloodline or being a woman practicing a man’s profession. One carriage ride isn’t going to ruin me.

  He offered her his arm, and they headed outside. “I am sorry that you’re feeling unwell. I am counting on you to speak to my gathering on the twelfth.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be much recovered.”

  He smiled and waved to his carriage driver, who immediately brought the closed carriage to where they waited. Lakewood gave the driver the address of Nancy’s boardinghouse. Faith was surprised that he knew it by heart but said nothing. Her head was starting to pound.

  Mr. Lakewood handed Faith up and then took the seat opposite her in a very proper manner. He rapped the roof with his hand.

  “There. We’ll have you home very soon.”

  Faith pressed her fingers to her temples. “I am sorry to make such poor company.”

  “It was quite warm in the lecture hall. Of course, you add Berkshire’s hot air, and it doubles the heat.”

  Faith smiled. “I thought you agreed with Mr. Berkshire.” She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud, but now that she had, there was no choice but to endure whatever comments he might offer.

  “I agree with much that Berkshire has to share. I do believe that had we been a nation of only white-skinned men and women, we never would have suffered through the War Between the States. Had there been no black—no slave—we would have worked through the issues of state’s rights without the need for war.” He lowered his head slightly. “I lost good friends and family to that war, and for what? To proclaim that a man with brown or black skin is as human as those with white? I never said they weren’t human. That’s Berkshire’s nonsense.”

  “But you would have them removed from America in order to cleanse the country of colored skin?”

  He looked at her and nodded. “I suppose I would. I further suppose you think me extraordinarily cruel to host such beliefs, but keep this in mind—I heard a lecture by a man who had been torn from his family in Africa and forced to come to America to be bought and sold many times over. He longed for home—for the family he’d been separated from, for the land of his birth. I saw grown men—white men—weep for the pain of that man’s spirit. Surely that man was not alone.”

  “But many of the slaves set free were born right here. They have no memory of Africa or Jamaica or any other place from where black men and women were taken. America is their home. To where would you send them?”

  “To a land where they could live in the manner that their nature demanded.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and the driver was soon at the door.

  “Their nature?” Faith couldn’t help but ask.

  Lakewood nodded. “Their nature. We are not all alike. We do not all long for the same things.”

  “Like food, shelter, and provision for our families?”

  He smiled. “Those are universal needs. All I’m saying is that it’s not their natural state to be educated or civilized.”

  It was difficult to keep her temper from getting the best of her when such ignorance was spouted as knowledge. “And such things are the natural state of white men? I have yet to deliver a baby who can speak or walk, much less read and write. We all must learn, Mr. Lakewood. Unfortunately, I believe some of what is being taught is more dangerous and despicable than useful. If we are not careful, we may well find ourselves fighting a bigger war than we’ve ever imagined possible.”

  Faith could see that the rain had started to pour in earnest and knew that her opinion wasn’t going to change his mind.

  “Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Lakewood. I am sure I will feel fit in time for your gathering of donors. I wonder if you would mind if I bring someone along with me.”

  He shook his head. “Of course not. Whom did you have in mind?”

  “One of the ladies at the boardinghouse. In fact, there are two. They are teachers and mentioned that they would be interested to hear what I might say.”

  He smiled. “Of course. I will send my carriage for you. My man will be here at six forty-five precisely.”

  Faith allowed the driver to help her down. “We’ll be ready.”

  “And then he drove away.”

  “Oh, Faith, what were you thinking, riding home alone with that man?” Clementine shook her head. “The things I’ve heard him say suggest he’s just as dangerous as Berkshire.”

  “I agree.” Nancy stood and put a hand to the small of her back.

  Faith noticed that Nancy was showing quite a bit more than she had prior to Christmas. “Look at you. You’re rounding out nicely.”

  “Sometimes my lower back aches, and I’m certainly more exhausted at times.” Nancy smiled. “However, I’m so delighted to be in this condition that you will not hear me complain about a single thing.”

  Smiling, Faith got to her feet. “I’m spent. After listening to Gerome Berkshire’s nonsense in that overheated hall, and then hearing Samuel Lakewood drone on, I could use a bath.”

  “I believe there is plenty of hot water and fresh towels.”

  Clementine walked to the window and pulled back the drapes just enough to peer outside. “I wish the rain would stop. I can’t bear the idea of dealing with flooding, even if we aren’t in any real threat here.”

  “I agree. The rain has been quite tedious.” Nancy suppressed a yawn. “I hope Seth gets back soon. I know he’ll be soaked to the bone.”

  “Where did he go on such a foul evening?” Clementine asked, coming away from the window.

  “It was a deacons’ meeting at church. I’m sure it won’t last much longer, and he has the carriage, so hopefully he’ll make the trip quickly when they conclude.”

  Faith turned to Clementine. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I asked Mr. Lakewood if it would be all right to bring you and Mimi to his donor meeting. You mentioned wanting to hear me speak, and I thought it might give me some additional protection. Berkshire will no doubt be there.”

  “I’d love to come. I’m sure Mimi would—”

  A thunderous crash sounded from the second floor. Nancy gasped and headed for the stairs. “You don’t suppose Mrs. Weaver has fallen, do you?”

  She raced up the stairs despite her expanding abdomen. Faith and Clementine followed without delay.

  Mrs. Weaver’s room was near the back stairs at the end of the hall, and it was clear that some sort of ruckus was going on inside.

  “Mrs. Weaver, are you all right?” Nancy didn’t wait for an answer but produced her key and unlocked the door. “Mrs. Weaver?”

  “I’m—I’m quite . . . all right,” the old woman replied, her voice barely heard.

  Faith made certain they had light before assessing the situation. If Mrs. Weaver had fallen, she would need to examine her. But there was no thought of that once Faith turned back to where Mrs. Weaver lay tangled in her covers—on the floor. The slats in the
bed had broken or shifted enough that the collapse had caused a terrible crash.

  But this was not the reason for everyone’s immediate silence and dropped jaws. There beside Mrs. Weaver in the rumpled mess was a small black woman who stared back at them as if she feared for her life.

  CHAPTER 8

  The wide-eyed black woman clutched the covers to her neck as her gaze darted from face to face. Faith could see she was terrified and knelt beside her to offer reassurance.

  “I’m a doctor. Are you injured?”

  The gray-haired woman shook her head. Mrs. Weaver, on the other side of the bed, finally spoke. “Help me up from this mess, please.”

  Clementine pulled back the tangle of covers and assisted Virginia Weaver to a sitting position. The mattress was lopsided, with part of the top and right side still positioned on the rail, while the left side and lower part had landed on the floor.

  Mimi burst into the room. “What on earth happened?” She stopped and gaped when she saw the small black woman.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Weaver?” Nancy asked as the old woman adjusted her mobcap.

  “I am well.” She got to her feet with Clementine’s help and reached for her flannel robe. “What a disaster, and now my secret is known.”

  Nancy smiled. “Can you explain what’s going on?”

  Mrs. Weaver allowed Clementine to help her with the dressing gown. “This is Alma. We’ve been together since childhood, and I will not be parted from her. She was my slave, but I freed her, and she has long been my friend.”

  Faith again smiled and offered her hand to the elderly black woman. “Might I help you to your feet?”

  Alma gave a hesitant nod.

  Taking great care to cause the woman no pain, Faith all but lifted the tiny soul from the floor. She couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds, nightclothes and all.

  “Well, I must say, this is a surprise,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

  “I did not intend to cheat you of revenue,” Mrs. Weaver declared. “That was certainly never my intention, but we know about the laws against blacks here. Once, when my husband and I were newly arrived, we saw another family with a black maid, and what happened was appalling. They whipped that poor servant and then forced the family to send her away. Over the years, we’ve heard much threatening talk, and I’ve even read about some physical displays in the paper. I couldn’t risk that for poor Alma.”