Peg locked the door to the shop and slipped into the narrow back room where she knelt down in front of an old wooden chair and cried. Cried for her past. Cried for her son. Cried for the life she’d lost. “Oh, God, it still hurts after all these years. Why? How much longer do I have to wait for healing?”
❧
Came on a little strong there, didn’t you, Bower? Perhaps he should have tried a less forward approach. But it did demonstrate one thing. She might not be the same Margaret Martin he was looking for. Who are you kidding, Bower? She’s the one. There’s no question, and you know it.
Matthew walked up to a palm tree and leaned against it. He was due at the Southards’ dinner party in half an hour. He’d hoped to bring Peg with him, but she’d refused just like Daniel said she would.
Did her past dictate her current choices? Obviously. Twenty years, Lord. Hasn’t the woman learned to cope with it by now? He sighed. Lord, I’ve only known for a couple months, and I’m barely coping with it. What will she do once she learns the truth? Maybe I shouldn’t tell her.
Matt headed toward the shoreline. Mounds of black eelgrass lined the shore. White puffs of churned up sea-foam draped the edges of the grass. Black and white, side by side, each contrasting the other, each having a part in the beauty of the ocean. They told a symbolic story that made him smile. Black stripes of sin cover us, but the white cleansing foam of Jesus washes the many sins of our lives and pulls them out to sea to be buried in the sea of God’s forgetfulness.
Okay, Lord, I get Your point. I’ll wait, but give me the words when the time comes. I can’t imagine how this truth will rip apart this woman’s heart. It’s ripping mine. Matthew bent down and pulled up a handful of the eelgrass and tossed it in the ocean. Help me get close to her, Lord. She needs a friend. Of course, when I tell her what I know, she’ll not want to talk with me again.
He rinsed his hands in the water and walked down the shore. Ellis Southard’s house was down this way and up a few blocks. The long walk would do him some good, Matt reasoned.
“Hey, Mr. Bower.”
Matt turned to see Ben waving. He appeared to be walking with his entire family. Mo Greene stood head and shoulders above any man he’d ever known, but the few times Matt had met him he seemed to have a gentle spirit. “Hi, Ben, Mo.”
“Ya comin’ to Mr. Ellis’s for dinner?”
“Sure am. Are you?” Matt headed toward the family.
Mo extended his hand. “You’re welcome to walk with us. Matt Bower, this be my beautiful wife, Lizzy.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Bower. Ben’s told us so much about you.”
Matt grinned. He’d hired the boy a few times over the past couple of weeks since arriving to the island.
“And these are our young’uns. Ben you know. This here is Sarah, William, and Olivia.”
“Pleasure meeting all of you.”
“Do you really sell cotton that slaves picked for you?” Sarah knitted her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Since slavery is against the law, I don’t suppose I do. But I did when it wasn’t against the law.”
“Sarah,” Lizzy chastised.
“It’s all right, Ma’am. It’s an honest question. Don’t know many men who didn’t make a living using slaves in the South. I won’t go talking politics, but I honestly never saw it as folks from the North did prior to the war. War makes a man think, some good thoughts, some bad. In the end, I surmised the Bible says a man shouldn’t own another man. So I realize we were wrong. I’m afraid it doesn’t change the way things were, but I feel I’ve wrestled with it and come to an understanding of my sin in this area. Can you share the table with a man who owned slaves?” Matt asked.
He watched Mo put a hand around his wife’s shoulders. “Ye bein’ honest, I suppose we can accept your word for how you were and how you feel now.”
“Thank you. Did it take you long to feel a whole man, Mo?”
“Took some time. How’d you know?”
“The scars on your wrist are a dead give away, but I’ve read some of the abolitionists’ works.”
Lizzy relaxed her shoulders. “Who have you read?”
“Frederick Douglass, mostly.”
The small parade made their way toward Ellis Southard’s home. “Lizzy has me reading some of his work now,” Mo said. “He explains it well.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Matt’s lips twisted ruefully.
Mo slapped him on the back. “I think I like you, Mr. Bower, even if you owned slaves.”
“Did you beat your slaves like Daddy’s master?” Olivia looked horrified.
“No. I never beat another man nor did I order any beatings. But I did have men who worked for me that did. Once I found out, I fired them and hired others.” Matt’s stomach tightened. It was hard facing his past. He’d owned slaves. At the time, he didn’t even have an inclination that it was wrong. It was so socially acceptable. Slowly, he was beginning to learn that what might be acceptable to men wasn’t necessarily acceptable to God. These Negroes had every right to hate him. He represented all the heartaches their people had gone through, and yet they were willing to share a table with him.
“You didn’t tell me you owned slaves.” Ben sidled up beside him and whispered.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t ask. Does that mean you don’t want to work for me anymore?”
“Hard to say. My father died fighting people like you.”
Matt nodded. “I lost a brother, a father, and a dozen cousins to that war too, some on both sides.”
“Some slave owners fought for the Union army?”
“Yes, families were torn apart. Some may never recover because of their pride.”
“Which side did your brother fight for?”
“The South.”
“Oh.” Ben slumped his shoulders.
“Like I said before, Ben. I can’t change the past. I can only choose to learn from it and move forward.”
Ben paused in the road and scrutinized him. He bit his lower lip, then spoke. “You’ve been fair to me. I guess I can still work for ya—iffin Mo and Momma don’t mind.”
Matt sighed. Judging from how uncomfortable he was at this very moment, how much more discomfort would Peg Martin feel when he told her why he’d come to Key West?
Four
Peg washed the tears from her face and changed her dress. Tonight she would be having dinner with the Southards, and she didn’t need to look like something just washed up on shore. She slipped the baby blanket into a cloth sack she had made for Bea for carrying diapers and a change of clothes for the baby. The same blue heron she’d put on the blanket also stood proudly on the sack. It could also make a handy bag once the child was old enough to carry things to the shore or whatever, she mused.
Peg nibbled her lower lip. Perhaps it was making these items for little James had bought back those memories—not the fact that a handsome stranger from Savannah, Georgia, had been paying her some attention. How could he know her shame? It wasn’t at all logical.
Peg slipped the blanket into the sack and pulled the drawstring closed. She took in a deep breath, straightened her skirt, and marched toward the Southards’. Tonight was for rejoicing, rejoicing in God’s grace and His gift to the Southard family.
Peg smiled at the sound of the muted voices drifting from the house. Ellis had a penchant for doing things on a large scale. A small dinner party would turn up half the town, if Bea didn’t put her foot down. Peg chuckled under her breath. Who could have stopped him? He was so proud, holding this first party to announce their new son. He’d been beaming since the day he discovered Bea was with child.
“Evening, Miss Peg.” Richie bounced out from behind the railing of the porch.
“Evening, Richie.”
“Is that for James?” he asked. His blue-gray eyes sparkled with excitement.
“It is.”
“Nanna is going to love
that. Did you make it?”
“Yes.”
Richie nodded his head up and down and placed his hands behind his back, then looked down at his feet.
“Has James received a lot of presents?”
“Nanna says, for a little while folks will be giving James lots of presents. Then, after awhile, it will only be on his birthday, like me.”
“I see. So, this little item I have in my purse—you would like me to wait to give it to you on your birthday?”
Richie’s grin beamed. “You brought me a present? Yippee! Can I open it?”
“You’d better ask Nanna or Uncle Ellis.”
Richie ran off hollering, “Nanna, Uncle Ellis.”
Peg reached the front door, chuckling to herself, and knocked. Bea had told her often how she couldn’t keep the boy still. Thankfully, most of the time he didn’t run in the house.
“Peg, I’m so glad you came.” Bea hugged her friend. The deep shadows under her eyes revealed volumes. “Come in, come in and join the crowd.”
“Ellis got carried away again, I see.”
“I don’t think Cook or I could have held him down on this one. But he promised me that I was free to escape into our room if the evening wore on too long.”
“Good, you look as though you could use some rest.”
“James was up half the night. He’s a good baby but…” her words trailed off.
Peg picked them up. “But you won’t mind when he’s sleeping through the night.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve missed you. I haven’t been to town for ages.” Bea draped a hand around Peg’s waist.
“The shop’s been busy. I meant to come before now. I just haven’t had the time.” Peg walked in step with her friend. “Oh, I made a little something for you—and James, of course.”
Peg handed her the gift. “It’s beautiful. And the heron is the same color as Ellis and Richie’s eyes. How’d you do that?”
“A special blend of thread.”
“You’re so creative, Peg. This is wonderful.”
Bea took the gift and showed it to Cook, who fingered the fine work with knowing hands. Her deep brown skin accented the white linen. “Mighty fine work, Miz Peg,” Cook offered. “My eyes are getting too dim to do fancy work like this.”
Peg was flattered, but she knew Cook could still weave a needle as fast as the best of them. Peg had sat in on several quilting sessions where folks were making quilts and linens for the displaced slaves. Lizzy, Cook’s daughter, had begun the project shortly after she married Mo Greene.
The sack passed from woman to woman, and praises mingled with statements on how they were going to do more shopping at Southern Treasures and save themselves some time. She wouldn’t mind the additional business, but Peg knew they were just being nice. Most folks didn’t have the kind of money to buy too many of her gifts. She tried to keep costs down, but they were labor-intense projects.
Peg whispered into Bea’s ear. “When you get the sack back, you might want to look inside.”
Bea smiled. “I did. It’s wonderful.”
“Now, where’s this handsome son Ellis has been bragging about?” Peg scanned the room.
“Upstairs taking a nap. Come on. I need to check on him anyway.”
The two women headed up the stairs. “Oh, I brought a little something for Richie,” Peg offered as they stepped into the hallway on the second floor.
“Is that what he was hollering about?”
“Afraid so. I hope he’s not disappointed. It’s just some penny candy and a top.”
“He’ll love it.”
Bea opened the bedroom door. Inside, the white bassinet was covered with fine white mosquito netting. Bugs were a problem on the island but manageable. Bea lifted a finger to her lips. “Shh,” she whispered.
Peg nodded and stepped lightly on her toes, avoiding the click her heels would make on the hardwood flooring.
James’s toothless grin looked up at them.
“Guess he wasn’t asleep.” Bea fussed with the netting and retrieved her son.
Peg’s heart tightened. “He’s beautiful.”
“I’m kind of partial,” Bea smiled. “Would you like to hold him?”
“May I?”
“Of course. He’ll be asking for his supper shortly. Let me run downstairs and tell Ellis I’ll be feeding James.”
Peg sat down on the rocker and cradled her arms to receive the tiny infant. Bea scurried out of the room. Tears nipped at Peg’s eyes as she fought to hold them back. “My, my, James, aren’t you a handsome lad.”
The baby cooed.
Peg removed the hoods from the baby’s hands and caressed the tiny fingers. He wrapped his fingers around her much larger one and held on tight.
He turned his head toward her breast. Peg lifted him higher. “Your mommy will be here shortly.” She caressed his soft cheek and kissed him tenderly on his forehead.
“You look so much like I pictured my own son.” A tear slipped past her eyelids and ran down her cheek.
“Peg?” Bea whispered and closed the door. “You have a son?”
❧
Matt couldn’t believe the crowd in Ellis Southard’s home. It appeared to be just about everyone who lived on the island. They all mingled—white, black, Hispanic—everyone together in one room. Since the war began, he’d been trying to understand how folks could look at others without considering race and equality. Yet here on a tiny remote island in the middle of nowhere, the people had figured it out. Matt held his glass and saluted the heavens. I finally got it, Lord. Thanks.
Mo Greene walked up to him. The pure size of the former slave could make a man quake in his boots. Matt squared his footing. “Quite a crowd.”
“Mr. Ellis doesn’t hold back when he celebrates,” Mo agreed.
“I can see that.”
“I wanted to apologize for Sarah’s behavior earlier.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Mo. She spoke from her heart.”
“The young’uns have been born free. They don’t know what it’s like to speak only when spoken to, to not look a white man in the eye.”
Matt noticed Mo had no trouble looking him in the eye. “You escaped, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Matt nodded his head. “Those wrists tell a story, Mo. I’m sorry you were locked in chains.”
“The chains weren’t nothin’ compared to the beatin’s.”
“I’m sorry, Mo.” What else could he say? It wasn’t his fault, and yet, by not resisting the inhumanity of slavery, by owning his own slaves even though he’d paid them well, much to the annoyance of his business associates, he had been just as guilty as the men who used the whip.
“You understand, don’t you?” Mo placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder. Their eyes connected. Volumes of words were shouted between them, though not one was spoken. Mo tapped his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I’m pleased to know you, Mr. Bower.”
Matt’s voice caught. “Pleasure is all mine.” Matt internally winced at the choice of social formalities he’d used. For it certainly wasn’t pleasure that stirred in his gut. Acknowledging one’s sins was never a pleasurable experience. However, God’s grace covered those sins and brought about a cleansing so deep it washed him from head to toe. Matt couldn’t wait to have some quiet time with the Lord.
Mo chuckled. “It’s hard gettin’ used to livin’ a new kind of life, but I think you’re gettin’ there.”
Matt wondered, Am I that transparent, Lord?
“I’ll leave ye to your thoughts.” Mo left him standing there in the corner of the room, looking out the picture window to the back gardens of Ellis Southard’s property. People were even out there mingling. Just how many folks had Ellis Southard invited?
“Matt. Glad you could make it.” Ellis Southard walked into the dining room.
“Thank you for the invitation.” Matt raised his glass of limeade.
“You’re welcome. I wanted to hear more about t
he plans for your business.” Ellis grabbed a sandwich from the table and walked up beside him.
“Not much to it. I’ve decided to relocate. Savannah was devastated by the war, although it is rebuilding. I thought if I could cut down on my expenses and speed up the delivery time by having the cotton arrive here rather than in Savannah, I might be able to still turn a profit.”
“So you’d be needing a warehouse, some place close to the harbor.”
“That I would. I’m afraid the property is pretty locked up. Most folks who own waterfront property have been making a profit and have no intentions of selling.”
“True. But the wrecking business isn’t what it used to be before the war, so there may be some property up for a decent price.”
“Perhaps.” Matt raised his glass to his lips. Maybe exporting was still out of the question. It had been his business before the war, and he’d done well. But with the boycott of Southern goods to the North, and the pirating of ships bound for Europe, he’d barely made anything during the war. Not to mention the fact that Confederate money wasn’t worth the paper it had been printed on. “My understanding is that Key West remained under Union control throughout the war.”
“Your understanding is correct. The men and women who sided with the South were allowed to leave. Some did. But not too long after that order had been given, it was rescinded. Folks somehow lived harmoniously during the war. That isn’t to say a few arguments didn’t get passed between the best of friends, but there was no blood shed, and for that I’m grateful.”
Ellis Southard was an interesting man. Word on the street was he paid Mo more than most folks earned. And yet his business continued to grow. How could he afford such benevolence?
“So, where’s this strapping young man you said was your son?” Matt recalled his own pride and joy at bringing Micah home for the first time.
“His mother is feeding him. Bea said she’d bring him down shortly after he’s through.” Ellis beamed.
“Children are a blessing from the Lord.”
“Amen. You said you have a son?”
“Micah, yes. He makes this father proud.”
“I know what you mean. Richie, my nephew, is such a fine young boy. Bea did an excellent job raising him,” he added. “My brother and his wife both died, leaving Richie to my care. I know he’s not my son, in terms of biology, but I still feel the same pride for him as I do for James. And at the same time, I have the same awareness of what an awesome responsibility God has given me to raise these boys.”
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