The Way of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  “So you kept her hidden? That must have been quite difficult.” Nancy’s tone was compassionate and not in the least accusing.

  Mrs. Weaver nodded. “It seemed the only thing we could do. If folks knew we had a black woman living in our house, they would have come to make her leave.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to endure so much.” Nancy shook her head. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have some cocoa? When Seth returns, I’ll have him repair the bed. He should be home any moment.”

  “But what about Alma?” Mrs. Weaver asked. “I cannot bear for her to be put onto the streets.” She went to the black woman and put her arm around her. “She is dearer than a sister to me, and without her I would surely die. She has cared for me since infancy.”

  “I would never consider separating you,” Nancy replied. “Honestly, Mrs. Weaver, if you had just come to me, I would have seen to it that she was safely kept with you. I am not like those who would cruelly take her from you. Although I understand why you didn’t tell me. Trust is required for such a thing, and you didn’t know me well enough to know that you could trust me with your secret.”

  They adjourned to the first floor, and while Clementine went to the kitchen to see to the cocoa, the other women gathered around the dining room table.

  Faith could see that the black woman was still quite fearful. “I’m Faith Kenner, Alma. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I think you’ll find that everyone here is quite accepting of people, no matter their skin color.”

  Alma glanced to Mrs. Weaver, who nodded. “It would seem,” Virginia Weaver declared, “that we are among friends.”

  “Of course you are,” Nancy countered. “Oh, I wish you had just come to me. I have no desire to see you and Alma separated.”

  “But most whites do not feel as you do.” The old woman looked at her friend. “We have been together since my birth. Alma is three years older than me, and her mother was my mammy. Alma was my childhood companion and later my maid. When I married, my father gave Alma to me as a gift. When my husband decided we would move west, there was never a question of whether we’d invite Alma to accompany us.”

  Mrs. Weaver paused to smile at Alma. “So she decided to come with us, only to learn that blacks were not welcome in the Oregon Country. We witnessed many horrible things involving the Negro people. Many were whipped and forced to leave, never to be heard from again. I couldn’t let that happen to Alma.

  “My husband had purchased a house in the country, and there we felt fairly safe. Alma was able to live without fear to a degree, but whenever people came calling, we were careful to hide her away. We had a nice room set up for her off the chicken house. This was only for those times when people came calling and were in the main house. Otherwise Alma had her own bedroom upstairs in our house.”

  “Why did you need a separate hiding place off the chicken house?” Nancy asked.

  Virginia nodded, as if anticipating the question. “We couldn’t risk someone being with us downstairs and hearing her footsteps or the creaking of the floorboards upstairs. We had to constantly keep such things in mind.”

  “That would be terrible.”

  “We made sure there were lots of places she could hide on the property. We wanted to make sure she’d be safe no matter what. No one ever knew she was with us.”

  “How awful to have to hide away all the time,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

  Virginia cast a sorrowful gaze at Alma. “When my husband died and I was forced to sell everything and move to the city, I actually considered returning to Georgia, but I knew it would cost every cent I had. We’d be dependent upon family to care for us, and I couldn’t be sure they’d accept Alma. I told her we would simply have to sneak her into the boardinghouse, so she hid herself in the blanket box that I packed with my clothes and sentimental articles. She would hide there when you came to see me in my room. Sometimes, though, there wasn’t time, and she would crawl under the bed.”

  Faith couldn’t imagine the old woman having to do that. She and Mrs. Weaver were at least in their sixties, and just watching Alma as she came downstairs, Faith felt certain the black woman was arthritic.

  “Well, there will be no more of that.” Nancy frowned. “I am so sorry for what you’ve endured, Alma. I have little tolerance for the harsh judgment that is passed on a person because of the color of their skin.” She looked back at Mrs. Weaver. “How can we best remedy this, Virginia? Would a bigger room help? We have the room the Clifton sisters used to occupy. It’s a little bigger. I have empty rooms downstairs that I plan to convert to bedrooms, as well. Seth and I could move ahead on that project, if that would benefit you and Alma. In the meantime, I can certainly provide two beds instead of one.”

  “We don’t wish to be trouble. It’s a blessing that you would allow Alma to stay.” Tears came to Mrs. Weaver’s eyes, and she looked down as if embarrassed. “I can’t afford to pay much more, however.”

  “We won’t worry about that just now. Instead, we want to make sure Alma has what she needs.”

  Clementine brought a tray of cocoa and cups. “Here we are. This should fortify us.”

  The rain began to fall quite hard outside. Faith could hear the pounding on the roof. It sounded as if someone were pelting the house over and over with rocks. The others noticed it as well.

  “I’m sorry Seth has to be out on a night like this,” Clementine declared, pouring cocoa into each cup. “I saved a mug for him on the stove. Hopefully it’ll keep warm.”

  Nancy nodded. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

  “I don’t think you should worry, Mrs. Weaver,” Mimi said, reaching over to give the older woman’s arm a squeeze. “There may be laws against the blacks living in Oregon, but few people are enforcing them. The black community has its own church and school, and many blacks even own businesses and homes. I believe better heads have prevailed against those ugly laws.”

  “Yes, but they haven’t changed them.” Virginia Weaver looked at each of the ladies as if she were hoping someone might contradict her comment. No one did.

  The truth was that the laws were clearly on the books, and if someone chose to make a case out of it, the law would support ridding the town and state of anyone who was black. Faith could understand Virginia Weaver’s fear. It seemed better to her to hide her friend away in a blanket box than to risk losing her altogether.

  “It’s true the laws haven’t been changed,” Nancy said between sips of cocoa. “But they should be.”

  “Still, with men like Gerome Berkshire fighting to rid the state of blacks and Indians, we can’t be too careful.” Faith looked at her cousin. “We can, however, continue to keep this secret.”

  Nancy nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “We won’t say a word,” Mimi agreed.

  “You can count on me,” Clementine promised.

  Mrs. Weaver exchanged a look with Alma. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say but thank you. I know that’s not enough, especially after deceiving you as I did.”

  “You did what you thought best for your friend.” Nancy gave her a warm smile. “I would have done the same and cannot fault you for your love.”

  The front door opened, and the ladies all glanced toward the arched entry to the dining room. Seth came down the hall drenched, clearly intent on making his way to the bedroom. He stopped when he saw the women, however.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Nancy got up and handed him a tea towel from the sideboard. “Besides the fact that you’re soaked to the bone, we had an incident with one of the beds upstairs. The slats fell out.”

  He took the towel and wiped his face. “I’ll get some dry clothes on and see to fixing that.” Then he noticed Alma. He looked at Nancy, his brow furrowed.

  Nancy made the introductions. “This is Alma. She’s Mrs. Weaver’s lifelong friend and our new boarder.”

  “Welcome to the house,” Seth said, his expression relaxing. “Yo
u picked a doozy of a time to come, but you’re always welcome. Now, if you ladies will excuse me.” He headed down the hall before anyone could reply.

  Nancy smiled back at Mrs. Weaver and Alma. “See there, he doesn’t mind a bit. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if I can help him get changed.”

  “So she was hidden in the blanket box?” Seth asked after the bed was repaired and everyone but Faith and Nancy had retired for the night.

  “Virginia was so afraid Alma would be beaten and sent away that she felt she had to hide her. Isn’t that terrible?”

  “It is. Sadly, I know it’s widely accepted behavior. We have a lot of prejudice in this country, and the Indian wars over the years have only served to make whites question the need for any person of color. Just last week, a Chinese man was found severely beaten behind one of the saloons.” Seth sipped his cup of hot chocolate.

  “People are cruel.” Faith knew this from patients she’d cared for on her hospital training rounds.

  For several minutes, no one said anything more. Resolution was a long way off, and they all seemed to feel the burden of this in their silence.

  “Thank you for the hot chocolate,” Seth said. “I finally feel thawed.”

  “I wish it would stop raining,” Nancy said again as she began to gather the cups. “Everything is so damp and cold. I can’t seem to get warm enough, no matter what I wear.”

  Seth grinned. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Faith laughed. “I believe that’s my cue to leave you two.” She got to her feet. “I hope you know how much I appreciate your acceptance of Alma. And for that matter, me. I sometimes ponder the choices I’ve made and wonder if I’m doing wrong by living the life of a white woman.” She had given Nancy permission to share the truth of her birth with Seth, especially now that he was family.

  “You are equally white and Cayuse,” Nancy replied. “I see nothing wrong with choosing one or the other. I would see nothing wrong if you wanted to live as both, although I know the world would never accept that and brand you Indian alone.”

  “It’s true,” Seth replied. “I think you can help the most people with your medical training, and that means continuing to pass as white. Otherwise I’m afraid all opportunities would be closed to you.”

  “I know you’re right. I look at the laws and the problems the Indian people are facing. They have so few who will advocate for them. Although I did meet a woman in Colorado a few years back. Her name is Helen Hunt Jackson. We became fast friends when she learned I was studying to become a physician. She had lost two sons, one to diphtheria and one to a brain disease.”

  “How awful.” Nancy rubbed her growing belly. “I don’t think I could bear such a thing.”

  “She is a remarkable woman, but her pain was evident. Still, she was troubled by the treatment of the Indians, and last year she attended a lecture in Boston where she heard the Ponca Indian Chief Standing Bear describe the government’s removal of the Ponca in Nebraska. She wrote to me, knowing that I held great interest in the matter of Indian affairs. She was heartsick at all that had happened to the Indians. The government had been cruel. Many starved to death, and others were beaten and abused. It was then that she decided to take up the Indian cause full-time. She wrote to tell me she plans to pen a book that will detail the terrible things that have been done.”

  Nancy’s face lit up. “Then perhaps, dear cousin, that is exactly what you are here to do. Didn’t you tell me you were speaking to a group of donors next week? Men who will donate large sums of money to the medical college?”

  “Yes. But I won’t be speaking about the problems between Indians and whites.”

  Nancy smiled. “Maybe you should. Maybe as a physician, you can speak to the fact that we are no different. I remember my mother working on a poor Indian woman. She had been injured in a fall, and I remember my mother pointing out that her blood was no different than ours—that her internal organs and bones were made just as ours are.”

  “It’s true. I’ve done many dissections on Indian bodies as well as whites. There is no difference inside. We are the same. Blacks and Chinese as well. As far as science has proven to me, once you peel away the outer skin, we are basically the same.”

  “So maybe you need to work that into your speech. While you defend the need for female doctors, maybe that tidbit of knowledge could be shared as well.”

  “I think Nancy makes a good point,” Seth chimed in. “Maybe with your education and knowledge of the body, you will be able to persuade others to reconsider their opinions. After all, other doctors know the truth as well.”

  Faith smiled. “You might have a point there. I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Perhaps Mrs. Jackson can even offer you advice on how to approach your audience,” Nancy said.

  “I’m sure she could. She truly is a remarkable woman. I hope you get to meet her one day.”

  Such thoughts filled Faith’s dreams that night, and the next morning as she made her bed, she continued to ponder what Seth and Nancy had suggested. The idea behind speaking about being a female doctor was to raise financial support for the college. If she expressed her own feelings against racial prejudices by using her educational experiences, she had a feeling it would only defeat the first purpose. Yet how could she stand by and do nothing?

  A light rapping sounded on her door. “Come in.” She plumped the pillow and waited to see who it was.

  “Good morning, Faith.” Clementine beamed at her. “Nancy asked me to give you this letter. It came yesterday, and she forgot all about it until this morning.”

  Faith took the missive and glanced at the writing. “It’s from my mother.”

  “Always good to have news from home. I’ll leave you to read it.”

  Once Clementine was gone, Faith opened the envelope and scanned the page. She had to smile at her mother’s concern about her staying warm enough and keeping dry. She supposed no matter what her age might be, Faith would always be a little girl to her mother. She continued to read.

  Your father and I heartily approve of your work with the other college students to hold lectures to promote unifying people of all colors. We want to help with that in any way we can.

  Faith had written to express her concerns some weeks before her trip home for Christmas. There had been little time to discuss it over the holidays, but now that she was refocusing on her final semester of school, Faith felt an urgency to do whatever she could to help further the cause. Last night had driven home a point to which she had given little thought. People were suffering because of prejudices and bad laws, and it was her duty to help get those laws changed and see that all people were treated equally. She might not be able to vote, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t work to influence others.

  Your father plans to come to Portland and set up a bank account for you. The money can be used for your personal needs but also for helping fund your lecture plans.

  Faith couldn’t contain her smile. Her parents were always generous, and her father would know exactly the kind of funding they would need to rent out speaking halls and have flyers printed.

  We are proud of you, Faith. You have always been so tenderhearted toward people of all colors. Your kindness and determination to see people treated as God would treat them serves to make you all the more admirable.

  To know that her parents were proud of her brought tears to Faith’s eyes. She had always worked for their favorable opinion and approval, and now it was clear she had both. She could hardly ask for more than that.

  Faith went to her writing desk and took a seat. She would send a thank-you note back to her folks, but first she would write to Helen Hunt Jackson. With the funding provided by her folks, it seemed clear that God was calling her to take up the cause, and Helen would be able to advise her as to how to start.

  Perhaps she could even favor us with a visit! Faith picked up her pen.

  CHAPTER 9

  With her classes resuming next Monday, as well as her sp
eaking event for Mr. Lakewood the same evening, Faith began to feel overwhelmed. It was already Friday, which gave her only two days to see to schoolwork and her speech, because she wanted to keep her Sabbath as a day of rest. When Seth mentioned that the Morning Star had docked sometime in the night, Faith knew she could find solace in visiting Captain Gratton. It seemed unreasonable to waste precious time, given that nothing could ever come of their friendship, but she told herself that perhaps nothing needed to come of it. Having a good friend in the captain was reason enough to continue the relationship. She didn’t need to think of him as a potential mate. Wasn’t there a certain liberty in that?

  Of course, there was still the issue of her studies looming over her. Perhaps since church didn’t start until ten o’clock, she could sleep late that morning. That way she could stay up late on Saturday to finish her assignments and finalize her speech. She wanted to make a good impression on Mr. Lakewood and his friends.

  When Faith drew near to where the ship was moored, she spied Andrew on the lower deck, speaking to a couple of crew members. He saw her and waved her aboard without hesitation.

  “What brings you down here today?” he asked, helping her with her final steps up the gangplank. “We aren’t taking passengers until this afternoon.”

  “I heard you were in town and wanted to see if you had fully recovered from your injury.” She knew it was a lame excuse, but at the moment she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  He smiled. “I’m fit as a fiddle. Had a great doctor and knitter.” He tugged on the red cap she had made him.

  “Crochet,” she corrected. “The hat and scarf were crocheted, not knitted.” She smiled. “But I’m glad to see that you’re using them.”