Ella Wood Novellas: Boxed Set

by Michelle Isenhoff

  “I imagine you’ve found the difference startling,” Jane continued. “And yet you’ve probably noticed some things don’t change across borders. That’s why we need to get the four of you to Canada.”

  Ketch coughed into his napkin in the pause that followed.

  “First things first,” Mr. Blaine admonished. “Ketch needs to get back on his feet. You’ll be safe here while he recuperates, and you may stay as long as necessary.”

  Jane winked at them. “That will be no time at all with a preacher saying prayers for you.”

  After the meal, Jane insisted that Lizzie and Ketch relax while she and the two men washed the dishes. Lizzie checked briefly on the baby, who still slept soundly in the upstairs bedroom, then she joined Ketch before the sitting room fire.

  Ketch watched her sit down in the other armchair. “I owe you a tremendous thank you, Lizzie. I wouldn’t even be sittin’ here if it weren’t fo’ you.” His voice was deep and gentle, so very like the man himself.

  “I was only payin’ you back. You took care of us aboard ship.”

  “Not very long. I admire yo’ bravery.”

  “Oh, Ketch, I ain’t brave. It was horrible!” She shuddered with the memory of those dark days. “Tendin’ de boys, holdin’ so many secrets, an’ all de time wonderin’ if we gunna get caught.” She turned to face him, remembered worries carving into her brow. “But watchin’ you waste away at de hotel be worse. I thought you was gunna die.”

  Ketch reached across the intervening space to clasp her hand. “It be all over now, Lizzie. We both here safe, thanks to you an’ Mr. Blaine.”

  But Lizzie couldn’t seem to stop. “When Mr. Blaine didn’t come, I didn’t know what we gunna do.” Her voice wobbled. “Ketch, I was so scared.”

  He coughed again then tugged at her hand, drawing her out of her chair and onto his lap. “Come here.” She offered no resistance but curled against his chest. “Shhh… It’s all right, girl. We gunna be jus’ fine.”

  He wrapped her up tight, rocking her gently. Lizzie didn’t utter a sound; she simply soaked in his comfort. It was a safe place, there between those rock-hard arms with her ear pressed tight against his heartbeat. Nothing could touch her. Slowly the tension eased from her limbs.

  Ketch’s voice came softly to her ear. “I’m sorry you had to suffer de journey alone, Lizzie. An’ I promise you right here, right now, I’ll help you bear up under de res’ of it. We’ll see it through together.”

  Lizzie pulled away, watching the reflection of the fireplace flicker in those dark, sober eyes. She could sense the promise in his words, but this time she wanted to hear it with her ears. “An’ after we get to Canada?”

  He traced a finger down her jaw. “You afraid I gunna walk?”

  She shook her head, but her eyes continued to search his.

  “After all we been through?” he asked. “Not a chance.”

  He was so tall that on his lap she looked directly into his eyes. She saw the promise reach their depths and turn quickly to desire. His hand came up and caught the hair at the back of her neck. A smile softened his stern features. “Don’ you know by now dat I crazy ’bout you?”

  He kissed her then, and the promise crystallized, shooting rays of light into her veins. She felt its warmth consuming her. Felt the sweet rise of pleasure. She responded with enthusiasm and felt the hand at her neck tighten, denying her escape.

  As if there was any place she’d rather be.

  ***

  Ketch slept for much of the next week. By the middle of January, he was assisting Clyde and Uncle Timothy with menial tasks. And before February had fully found its feet, he was chopping wood, feeding and watering the stock, and making repairs on both the house and the barn. Mr. Blaine objected strenuously, but the work needed to be done, and Ketch insisted on earning his keep. In truth, the exercise seemed to hasten his recovery.

  To avoid undue attention, Ketch and Lizzie declined accompanying Clyde and Jane to church on Sundays, opting instead to sit in on Mr. Blaine’s family worship meetings on Saturday nights. Lizzie found the solitude a welcome relief after December’s harrowing weeks, though she missed the community of the slave village.

  Jane proved a fast friend. Emily helped with her work and Jane smothered the baby with grandmotherly affection. Most afternoons found them sitting before the parlor fireplace with cups of hot chocolate on the table between them and sewing new clothing from the lengths of cloth Mr. Blaine had purchased. Other than precious moments stolen with Ketch at the end of each evening, this was Lizzie’s favorite part of the day.

  One afternoon early in February, Lizzie sat nursing Larkin in one of the comfortable armchairs when Jane entered with her usual tray. Setting the cocoa down, the woman groaned as she eased her body into the second chair. “The older I get, the less I appreciate these northern winters.”

  “But dey beautiful, Jane.” Lizzie gazed out the window at the pristine blanket that draped the fields. It was a different kind of loveliness than she was accustomed to. While nothing could top the lush beauty of the lowlands in springtime, Charleston seldom saw snow. And when it did, the few flakes never produced this thick, ethereal landscape.

  “Have you and Ketch talked about what he wants to do when you reach Canada?” Jane asked, taking a sip from her mug.

  Lizzie let her cup cool while she held the baby. “He gunna farm. He wanna buy his own land and grow things. It be in his blood.”

  “Agriculture will be some different where you’re going. Not even Ketch will be able to coax rice out of those northern plains.”

  “Don’ matter. He’ll learn. Green things all de same to Ketch.”

  Jane fixed her eyes on Lizzie. “And what about you? What do you want from the North?”

  Lizzie looked down into the dark, trusting eyes of little Larkin. “It be enough fo’ me to raise dis chil’ where I never have to worry ’bout him bein’ taken away.”

  Jane chuckled. “If I’m not mistaken, Lizzie, you’re hoping for a whole lot more than that.”

  Lizzie felt the heat rise beneath her collar, and she smiled to herself. Jane was right. She was hoping for more. Much more.

  The baby returned her smile and cooed up at her. He was finished eating. She refastened her blouse and handed him off to Jane. “Stayin’ here doin’ wonders fo’ Robin. It been good to see ’im come to life.” The open fields and dark recesses of the barn had provided an opportunity for the child to play, to laugh, to find the mischief every little boy should get into. He had thrived in Mr. Blaine’s company, and now that Ketch was well, he was busy from dawn till dusk demanding their attention and “helping” one or the other.

  A slamming door and the patter of running footsteps signaled the boy’s arrival. Jane laughed. “Well, speak of the devil and he doth appear.”

  “Lizzie!” he exclaimed, bursting into the parlor. “You gotta come outside an’ see dis. Hurry!” He tugged at her hand, pulling her from the chair.

  Lizzie exchanged smiles with Jane. “What do I have to see, Robin?”

  “It’s Rosie!” he said, speaking of the mixed-breed farm dog that lived in the barn with the other animals. “She had puppies!”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Jane said. “Go on, Lizzie. Take my coat. I’ll watch Larkin.”

  Lizzie hurried after Robin and grabbed the woolen garment from the hook by the back door. Winter clothing warm enough for northern climates was one thing she and Ketch lacked. Mr. Blaine had scrounged an old child’s coat from a trunk in the attic, but Ketch and Lizzie had to borrow one each time they stepped outside. They would need to make a few purchases as soon as Ketch could hire out and earn some money.

  Robin beat her to the barn. “Come on, Lizzie!” he urged and disappeared through the doorway.

  The barn was dim and warm, thick with the smell of animals. She could hear Robin’s voice urging her on from somewhere to the left. As her eyes adjusted, she could see several figures huddled in a box stall. Ketch’s tall form separate
d from the others and held out an arm to welcome her.

  “Well, look at dat,” she breathed. Rosie stood to greet her, wagging her tail and scattering puppies in every direction. The babies whimpered, blindly seeking out the warmth and comfort that had walked away from them so abruptly.

  “Rosie, you old goat, go lie down,” Mr. Blaine told her.

  After licking Lizzie’s hand and receiving a brief scratch behind the ears, the dog curled back up on the blanket spread for her in the hay. The puppies were soon back in place, plugged into her side like a row of colorful piglets.

  Lizzie knelt to brush a finger down one tiny, furry back. “Oh, Miss Emily would love this,” she mused, swept by memories of her friend. Emily was always the first one at a birthing, be it kittens, puppies, horses, cows, pigs, or the first hatchlings of the year. “What do you think, Robin? Shall we write to her an’ describe ’em fo’ her?”

  “Yes!” The boy knelt beside her, carefully picking up a squirming black puppy. Rosie watched anxiously, but she didn’t stir from her bed. “Let’s tell her dey names. Dis one be Daisy.”

  Lizzie smiled. It was the darkest of the litter, the one that least resembled the bright-hued flower. “Very well. We’ll write her tonight.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mr. Blaine cautioned. “If I were you, I’d wait until I reached my destination before sending an announcement as to my whereabouts.”

  “Can we at least let her know we safe?” Lizzie asked. Emily would be fretting over the lack of news.

  “Let me do it,” he answered. “A letter from me won’t raise any eyebrows. I should have written to her before now.”

  Lizzie agreed, swept with homesickness for the friend with whom she had spent nearly every day of her life. Settling into the hay beside the little family of dogs, she listened as Robin named them all, smiling as he explained each canine personality and predicted their futures, which included the presence of Jane and Clyde and Mr. Blaine at some blissful destination in the North.

  When the time came, it would be as difficult for the boy to leave his new friends as it had been for her to leave Emily.

  ***

  The puppies kept Robin entertained for weeks. During supper one evening near the end of February, he was rattling on about their latest development and constructing more fantastic stories about their adventures in Canada. Ketch listened for a time, then he laid down his fork, his face grave. “Robin, look at me.”

  The boy paused mid-sentence. “What, Pa?”

  “You know we can’t bring dose puppies wid us when we leave here, don’ you?”

  “But dey wanna go wid us.”

  “Dey jus’ babies. We already got one baby goin’ along. Larkin. What we gunna do wid another six?”

  Robin considered this, his little face puckered in a frown. Then he brightened. “We can bring Rosie to take care of ’em.”

  Lizzie bit back a smile.

  “No, Robin.” Ketch was firm. “Rosie has to stay here wid Mr. Blaine an’ Clyde an’ Jane. An’ de puppies will have to stay, too. Dey still need dey mama.”

  The boy’s face crumpled, and Lizzie’s heart went out to him. “We’ll write down your stories, Robin, and leave ’em wid de puppies. I think dey’ll wanna hear ’em even if dey can’t come along.”

  “I been thinkin’ some, Robin, ’bout a special someone you can bring to Canada wid us,” Ketch said.

  Robin looked up at his father expectantly.

  “What would you say to bringin’ along a mama o’ yo’ own?”

  The table grew still, every eye whisking to Lizzie. She set down her fork, her heart suddenly thumping in her ears.

  Robin’s face folded in confusion. “But I don’ want a mama, Pa. I got Lizzie.”

  Ketch threw Lizzie a wink. “Wid Mr. Blaine bein’ a preacher an’ all, I thought maybe he could tie the knot for me an’ Lizzie before we leave. That is, if she agrees. Den she can be yo’ mama.”

  Lizzie cleared her throat, keeping her voice far more sedate than her pulse. “Ketch, you be askin’ me to marry you?”

  He grinned. “Sho’ am. What you say? Think you can put up wid me fo’ de next few decades?”

  “I think I can if you be askin’ me proper.”

  He pushed back his chair and knelt beside her, catching her hand in his huge one. “Lizzie, you be de mos’ beautiful woman I know, inside an’ out. You de only one could ever thaw my heart when it frozen wid grief, an’ I love you mo’ wid every breath I take. Will you do me de honor o’ becomin’ my wife?”

  Lizzie’s throat constricted. She could only nod. Vigorously.

  He kissed her then, a tender, chaste meeting of their lips, before engulfing her in his arms. She relished the feel of being swallowed whole by his embrace and savored the perfect fulfillment of fitting two broken pieces into a whole. Of fashioning a family out of fragments.

  It was the intense, soul-satisfying feeling of belonging.

  4

  They were married in the parlor that same evening. There was no fanfare. No guests. Not a new dress or even a cake. Lizzie didn’t need any of that. The love in Ketch’s eyes as he repeated his vows made her feel like the most beautiful, most desirable woman in the whole world.

  It was more than enough.

  After Mr. Blaine pronounced them man and wife, he asked about their married name.

  Ketch shrugged. “I never took a surname.” Then he smiled at Lizzie. “I guess dat means we get to pick one. What name would you like?”

  Lizzie’s lips parted. “You want me to pick one, right outta my head?”

  He smirked. “How ’bout Smolenski?”

  Lizzie laughed, remembering the Polish family who lived near Ella Wood. “Or Gorbenivskaya?” she offered, naming the Summerville baker.

  Mr. Blaine chuckled. “Why don’t you wait a little longer and use the name forged on your papers?”

  “Papers?” He’d caught the attention of both Ketch and Lizzie.

  “Of course, papers. You’ll need them to travel, especially if you take the train, which I would highly recommend. I made all the arrangements for the documents when we were in Philadelphia. They’ll be ready whenever you need them.”

  Lizzie and Ketch exchanged a look. It was another detail they hadn’t considered. Another kindness owed to Mr. Blaine. Their thanks hardly seemed sufficient.

  The children were distributed among the other adults that night. Robin was thrilled to bunk with Mr. Blaine, and Jane took charge of Larkin. The entire household retired early, making themselves conspicuously absent.

  Lizzie felt a wave of self-consciousness overtake her when she found herself alone in the parlor with Ketch. She fidgeted, aligning the volumes on Mr. Blaine’s bookshelf. Her belly churned with both fear and anticipation as her new husband approached.

  Ketch reached out to take her hand. “How ’bout a walk, Mrs. Gorbenivskaya?”

  Laughter released some of her tension.

  They donned Clyde and Jane’s cloaks and boots and stepped out into the night. The moonlight played on the fresh-fallen snow, turning the farmyard into a dreamland. Ketch led Lizzie past the barn and along the fence row where Mr. Blaine’s cows pastured during warm weather, stopping beneath a huge, leafless tree marking the corner of the field. He drew her close, draping his arms about her waist. “I know you frightened,” he said. “An’ I understand. It’s okay, Lizzie.”

  The blackness of that night at Ella Wood suddenly rushed back to her, uninvited and unwelcome. She looked down at the ground, suddenly ashamed.

  He forced her chin up. Compassion ran deep in his eyes. “I ain’t in no hurry. I got a lifetime to teach you what love means.” He bent to brush her lips with his. It was a tender, gentle gesture, far more solicitous than the kisses that followed their brief wedding ceremony. But he pulled back before it became too ardent and tugged her into stride beside him.

  They rounded the corner of the pasture and made a lap around the cornfield beyond. The snow crunched unde
r their feet, the only sound in the dead silence of the Pennsylvania night. Lizzie appreciated the space Ketch was giving her, the absence of conversation. Their hasty marriage had been so unexpected that she needed time to adjust to the fact that the big, gentle man at her side was now her husband.

  Her husband!

  The thought brought a smile to her lips. Nervousness aside, she wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything. Ketch was a good man. A kind man. Strong, gentle, and generous. She had loved him since the day she first changed the bandages on his scourged and bleeding back. Ketch had nothing in common with the man who had violated her, who had taken what didn’t belong to him. Instead, Ketch gave—his time, his strength, his service, his future. He offered it freely, demanding nothing in return.

  Ketch wouldn’t steal from her. She would give herself to him freely.

  As they circled back to the house, she stopped him, burrowing inside his coat to wrap her arms around his waist. He pulled the flaps closed behind her and held her snugly. After a moment, she lifted her face, inviting his kiss. He obliged with enthusiasm, sucking her into the whirling, blurring bliss of pleasure.

  She broke away, weak and breathless. “Ketch, take me inside.”

  They replaced their coats and boots. At the bottom of the stairs, Ketch scooped her up and carried her to their room, working no harder than when she carried Robin. She stifled a giggle. Ketch nudged the door open and laid her gently on the bed. Desire burned strong in his eyes, but he kept them fixed on her face. On her soul. “I love you, Lizzie.”

  Anticipation swelled within her. She drew him down to the bed.

  Ketch was gentle. Kissing her long and deeply, wrapping her in tenderness. But as his hands dropped to unfasten her buttons, she began to tremble. As he eased aside her skirts, she stiffened with a flash of terror. The sounds, the smells, the pain and humiliation of that night, they came back with such clarity that she cried out, pushing Ketch away.