Chasing the North Star

by Robert Morgan

  A chill stung through Joshua as he thought of Angel. He’d run away from her three times on the road: on the French Broad, at Miss Linda’s at Roanoke, and at Owego. And he’d avoided her in Ithaca, telling himself it wasn’t safe to associate with another escaped slave. Besides, she was ignorant and sold herself at Miss Linda’s, and, if rumor was correct, at the hotel in Ithaca. She was fat and her tongue was sharp. She had a special knack for belittling him, and she liked to cross and contradict him.

  But he recalled the times she’d been good to him, the night of wonder at the jubilee, the night she’d comforted him on the train after he kicked the other runaway out of the boxcar, the way she’d found him at the jail in Winchester, and waited in the woods for him at the Driver farm in Pennsylvania. He thought of her laugh, and the smoothness of her honey-colored skin. There was a liveliness about Angel he didn’t have words to describe. It was as though she was completely in her life wherever she was. In comparison, other people, including himself, had their heads off in the clouds or some other vague place. Angel filled her life completely every day.

  Joshua saw that the only thing that could cheer him up was to see Angel. She was the only remnant of home he had left. Everything else had been lost. The job he had at the mill and the room he rented from Mrs. Gregg were nice. But they were not home. Not home as he understood it, felt it in his bones and in his blood. Angel was all he had left of his real self. She was the only chance of a home he had.

  Suddenly Joshua saw that he must go to Angel and apologize for abandoning her. He’d left her three times, as Peter had denied Christ three times before he repented. She’d seen all along how much he had needed her, and he’d been callous and blind to his true need, and hers. Joshua wiped his eyes and saw what a fool he’d been. He’d acted silly out of fear and arrogance, and his own ignorance. Though she couldn’t read, Angel had understood him far better than he had himself.

  It was already eight o’clock, but he knew he must go to Angel. He would wish her a Merry Christmas and thank her for helping him reach the North, thank her for stealing those eggs that sustained them through Pennsylvania as the weather turned cold. She’d been his partner and his helpmeet. She’d given him solace and love when he had been most desperate.

  Putting on his coat and scarf and cap, Joshua descended the stairs as quietly as he could and stepped out into the cold night. Snow crunched like broken glass under his boots. The stars were brilliant overhead, and candles burned in windows all along the street. He met a group of carolers, their breaths smoking and smelling of brandy as they sang “Joy to the World” at the edge of a yard.

  Joshua knew he should take a present to Angel-Sarepta. It was the least he could do to show her his change of heart, his appreciation. He had money in his pocket, but wasn’t sure what stores would be open at this hour. He turned onto State Street, which was the main street, and was pleased when he saw lights in Rothschild’s dry goods store. A red and gold and blue scarf was displayed in the window, so shiny it seemed like rippling water. He bought it and had it wrapped just as the store was closing for the night. With the package under his arm, he turned the corner and headed toward the hotel.

  When Angel had invited him to visit her weeks before, she’d said she lived on the top floor and he should come up the back stairs. But Joshua did not feel like going around to the back and sneaking up to Angel’s room. He’d come to a resolution about Angel and he was bringing her a Christmas present and he would not be afraid. He would enter through the front door and lobby for all to see. He’d not be ashamed of visiting his former partner on the road.

  As Joshua walked into the lobby lit by gas lamps, a man at the front desk stopped him. “Well Merry Christmas, boy,” he said. “Where might you be going?”

  Joshua was so surprised he stammered, “Going to see Angel Thomas.”

  “No Angel Thomas here,” the man said. He stared at Joshua and the package under his arm.

  “I mean Sarepta, Sarepta King,” Joshua said.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Joshua shook his head and anger began to flare in his throat. He swallowed and saw his mistake in coming through the lobby. “She’s a friend,” he said.

  “Sarepta has lots of friends,” the man behind the desk said. “You can make an appointment to come later.”

  “Don’t need no appointment,” Joshua said.

  Just then Joshua saw Angel come out of a hallway with a man in a fur-collared coat and top hat. She wore a coat and big bonnet, but he knew it was Angel by her big figure and dark face. She and the man in fancy clothes started up the staircase to the next floor and Joshua watched them mount until they were out of sight.

  “Sarepta will be free later, if you care to make an appointment,” the man at the desk said.

  Joshua spun around and banged the door as he stepped back into the cold, still clutching the wrapped package. He hardly noticed the chill night air, for the blood inside his face seemed even colder. Snow that had partly melted during the day had now frozen again, and his boots crunched on the hardened tracks. He stomped along the street, hardly noticing where he was going, and almost collided with a tipsy caroler before he stepped aside. “Pardon me,” he muttered and hurried on.

  With the present held to his chest, he thought of walking to the lake and throwing the gift into the still unfrozen inlet. He thought of climbing the hill past the mill and tossing the scarf over the waterfall. A fire was burning in a barrel at the corner of State Street where boys who had been ice skating warmed their hands. He considered dropping the package into the flames, but he didn’t.

  Instead Joshua walked back to Mrs. Gregg’s house and entered and climbed the stairs to his room without wiping his boots. As he took off his coat he ignored the lumps of melting snow that fell on the floor. He threw the package and the coat on the bed and sat down in his one chair before the little table where the lamp still burned. The Bible lay in front of him and the three volumes of David Copperfield. He opened and then closed the first volume.

  Joshua had known all along that Angel sold herself to customers at Miss Linda’s, after she had moved to the upstairs room. And he knew she’d been a bed warmer for her master at the Thomas place, for she’d told him so herself. He even knew the rumors about her in Ithaca, about her working at the hotel. It was no great secret how she made her living.

  He was surprised at himself, and angry at himself, and ashamed of himself for being so affected by seeing her with the man in the top hat and fur-collared coat. He didn’t feel like himself but somebody else. Before he had resented Angel going with other men, but he’d been more concerned about getting away from her and making it to the North. He’d liked to be with her himself, but that didn’t stop him from abandoning her three times—four times if you counted the train at Harrisburg—and never trying to see her in Ithaca over the past few weeks.

  What had changed now was his own feelings. Angel had not changed. She had to find a way to live in this town, until she could make her way on to Canada. How did she know he’d decided to go to her on Christmas Eve? It was his mind that had altered as he saw how much he needed her. Joshua was disgusted with himself for being so foolish. Whoa there, boy, you are dumb as sawdust, he said. But he was still angry at Angel, too.

  He looked at the wrapped present on the bed. He’d splurged in his rush of affection for Angel. He’d wasted his money. It was a beautiful scarf, with colors bright as gemstones. The fabric was shimmery, gleaming like sunlight on troubled water. Suddenly Joshua knew what to do with the scarf: he’d give it to Mrs. Belue tomorrow. He hadn’t thought of taking a present to the Belues, but he would give the scarf to Mrs. Belue, who’d been so kind to him so many times.

  IN THE DAYS AFTER Christmas, Joshua worked at the mill as usual, and he began to read the novel that he’d started that fateful day in the barn loft at the Williams place. But after reading a few pages every evening, his thoughts would return to Angel. He tried to think of other things, but alwa
ys there was Angel at the back of his mind. He’d been a simpleton to leave her behind, and ignore her after she arrived in Ithaca. She’d followed him all the way from North Carolina. She’d comforted him on the train after following him to Winchester, and she was the only person in Ithaca who could make him happy. He thought of the color of her shoulders in the firelight. He thought of the way she had of nudging him with her big hip. He recalled how deft she was at stealing eggs from a henhouse early in the morning so they could eat breakfast.

  In the days before New Year’s, a period of heavy snow began. Wind roared across the frozen lake and flung drifts into the streets and yards. Each morning Joshua shoveled a path out to the street from the porch of the rooming house. He walked with head down and ears wrapped in a scarf up the hill to the mill, and returned after dark to his room. Joshua had wondered before how people in the North lived through winters amid ice and snow and bone-cracking wind, and now he found out. They did it mostly by staying indoors. The farms had big barns where hay and grain were stored, and cows and horses stayed inside their stalls until spring thawed out the snowy pastures. Children might play in the snow, sliding and building snowmen, but they soon ran back inside to warm their hands and feet by the fire. Men who had to work outside bundled up and took breaks to warm themselves inside or by bonfires.

  The fact was, winter was a sociable time. When blizzards roared down the lake, people were more friendly. They helped each other. Some who were usually glum became cheerful when they had to stumble through deep snow to get to work. In the evenings Joshua read David Copperfield or the newspaper by the fire in Mrs. Gregg’s parlor. On especially cold nights the landlady served hot cider with spices in it. At the end of every day in the harshest weather, people seemed to feel they’d achieved a victory over the elements just by surviving.

  It took almost a week for Joshua to admit to himself that he had to see Angel again. He had to eat his pride and his resentment. He had to humble himself and admit he had a lot to learn about Angel, and about himself. She was less than two years older than him, but she’d experienced far more of life than he had.

  It was on New Year’s Eve that he finally made up his mind that he had to try once again to see her. It hurt Joshua’s pride to think he had to go back to the hotel where he might find her with another customer. But by then it seemed he had no choice. There was nobody else in Ithaca for him to be with and love. Nobody else understood where he’d come from, or cared about him. The choice was inevitable, he saw.

  Ithaca was almost as festive on New Year’s Eve as it had been at Christmas. Most of the decorations were still in place and candles burned in the windows. New snow had whitened the streets and roofs as if they had been repainted. Stars shivered so bright, they seemed hung just above the houses. But when Joshua reached the corner of Buffalo Street something stopped him. The sky to the north was red, a glowing rose red that stretched from horizon to horizon. And then he saw trails in the red and other colors, green and blue, that hung like curtains and waved and trembled.

  In church he’d heard about the Second Coming, the end of the world. Was this the Great Tribulation? Was the sky falling and time coming to an end? But even as Joshua caught his breath and felt his heart thump in his chest, he remembered the description of the Northern Lights he’d heard from Rev. Belue. This was the aurora people talked about, coming like fireworks on New Year’s Eve, welcoming in the New Year.

  The colors and the curtains wove around far up in the sky, getting brighter in one place, fading in another. It was the green that seemed strangest, a green light in the night sky, eerie and mysterious. No wonder people thought the Northern Lights could foretell terrible things and dramatic changes. But maybe they foretold good things, too. Maybe they were a favorable omen for the coming year.

  Joshua watched the display for several minutes. He wished Angel was there to view the spectacle with him; it would be even more beautiful. Maybe if he hurried it would not be too late for her to see the show in the northern sky. Beyond all the color, the North Star blazed just where it always was.

  As Joshua approached the hotel, he decided to use the back door and the back stairs this time. He’d not repeat his mistake of Christmas Eve. He would quickly find the back stairs and climb to Angel’s room. Surely there would be a name on the door or something to guide him to the right room.

  A party was underway on the first floor of the hotel. A band played soft music and people were dancing. He could see their gliding shadows through the candlelit windows. When Joshua entered the building from the rear, he almost bumped into a man and woman in fancy dress kissing at the bottom of the stairs. The smell of perfume charged the air. The light was so dim in the stairwell, Joshua had to feel his way up the steps. Normally people carried a lamp or candle when they climbed to the upper floors, but as he had neither, he touched the wall and took careful steps. When he reached the top landing, he saw a thin string of light under the doorway, and he opened the door to see a hall dimly lit by one small lamp.

  There must have been ten doors on either side of the corridor, all looking the same. He walked slowly down the hall, searching for telltale light under a door, listening for the sound of laughter or conversation. In one room he passed there was the sound of snoring. Most rooms seemed deserted. He passed a room where there was a light under the door, but he walked on, hoping to find a clue to tell him which was Angel’s room. When he reached the end of the hall and still had found no indication of which room might be Angel’s, he returned to the door with light under it and knocked quietly, holding his breath.

  IT WAS LATE MARCH before the snow really began to disappear in the woods on the hills above town. Even after the snow was gone on the streets, and ice had fallen away from the waterwheel at the mill, the hills were still white, and gold and copper in early morning and late afternoon. Sunset turned the lake into a wide boulevard paved with gold.

  One Sunday afternoon, when he could see the bare ground in patches on the hills, Joshua decided it was time to fulfill a promise he’d made in the fall after arriving in Ithaca. Wearing his gloves and scarf, he climbed the trail above the mill, which was still muddy from thaw and melting drifts. He took care to find footholds on rocks and roots.

  Many pine trees and cedar trees grew along the ridge, on the edge of the gorge. But what he was looking for was an oak tree, preferably a large oak tree with wide, spreading limbs. He followed the path beyond the bluff where you could look down on the mill and all of Ithaca and the lake, and came to a little cornfield enclosed by woods. The corn had never been gathered, and the stalks had been knocked down by wind and snow. Deer tracks, turkey tracks, geese tracks, printed the ground where ears spilled kernels into the mud. Joshua wondered who would have planted a field up there only to abandon it.

  To avoid the thaw mud, he walked around the edge of the field, through briars and brush. Beyond the sumac bushes along the clearing, pines gave way to hardwoods, maples, gum trees, shagbark hickories. Joshua entered the woods and picked his way among vines and undergrowth, and then he saw the oak tree.

  It was a noble tree with silver, sooty bark, a trunk at least five feet thick at the base, with branches spreading over the other trees. It was older than the other trees, and must have stood there before the white men came to the region. It was a miracle the ancient tree had been spared by the axe. It had dignity and strength, and seemed to stand for a kind of truth. It reached high into the spring sky, but was balanced, perfect all around.

  Joshua looked about for a rock. What he needed was a special stone, small enough to be moved, but noticeable. Most of the rocks in the area were flat gray shale, rocks that melted a little when wet or chalked off when rubbed in dry weather. What he wanted was a harder stone, a rounded stone. He searched among the undergrowth, the thickets of vines and briars, the cedars with white shadows, but found only flat rocks. He looked along the edges of the field, avoiding the creamy thaw mud.

  And then he saw the rock pile at the corner of th
e clearing. Some farmer, or more likely his children, had carried rocks out of the field for decades and piled them in a cairn at the corner of the patch. They’d probably dragged stones on sleds and hauled them in carts to clear the ground. Joshua picked among the rocks and found many kinds and shapes. He found blocks and cubes, broken fragments, sheets and plates, and stones shaped like potatoes. And then he saw one rounded almost like an egg, tan colored, about the size of a watermelon. He knew as soon as he spotted it that this was his witness rock. It was a stone that had been waiting for him for years, for ages. With his pocketknife he scratched his initials on the stone.

  It took all his strength to lift the rock out of the briars and raise it to his chest. He staggered and stumbled through the underbrush and reeled with the weight. Once he had to drop the stone to the ground to rest, but eventually he brought it to the big oak tree. Out of breath and sore, he placed the rock on bare ground at the base of the great oak.

  Joshua knew this would be his special place, the spot he would come to from time to time to remember his escape from the Williams Place and his arrival in Ithaca, to reaffirm his strength and hope, his love. Whatever happened, he had come this far. The oak tree and thawing woods and glowing rock bore witness to his progress, his pilgrimage to this particular place.

  And then he turned back toward the town, knowing that Sarepta would be there, waiting for him. She’d probably ask where in hell he’d been to get his boots and his pants so muddy.

  Twenty

  Sarepta

  I knew Joshua was going to ask me to marry him long before he knew it himself. He read books and had all those names in his head and could narrate stories and tell facts you never heard of. But he didn’t know himself as well as I did. And that is still true to this very day. I saw he was going to come to me out of the cold because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was the only place he had for comfort and love.