Underground

by Gayle O'Brien

  “No.” Theo paused. “I was mainly there to look for stuff on my Mom and her family.”

  “Oh.” Annie wasn’t sure how far to tread. “And did you find anything?”

  “Not really. Her family seemed to move in and out of Vermont a lot. It’s like they were always going to look for something they never found, because they’d always end up back in Battenkill.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No. That’s why I went looking – to see if there were any clues as to where she’d gone or why she went. But I didn’t find anything.”

  Like we’re not finding anything now, Annie thought.

  “There,” said Theo, as he finished the rubbing. He rolled up the paper and wiped his charcoal-coated hand on his jeans. “Next stop, Mont Verity.”

  Annie said nothing as he put the rubbing into her bag.

  “Hey?” said Theo. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited.”

  “It’s nothing. I guess I just … I didn’t think we’d be here this long.”

  “Look, I know things aren’t going exactly as we’d hoped, but hey – you never know what might be around the corner.”

  “Except we do. Mont Verity isn’t actually there anymore.”

  “I know, but aren’t you excited to see where it was? To be where Samantha Weston once was?”

  “I’m sorry. We’ve driven all this way, but maybe I should have just stayed …”

  “Hey, look!” said Theo. He walked closer to the field and knelt.

  Annie watched as he brushed his hand over the dirt. “What is it?” she said.

  Theo smiled. “A disused railroad line.”

  Annie walked over and crouched down. Two lines of old track were embedded in the ground, straddling rows of cracked buffers. The line went into the field, where it disappeared amongst the tall grass. Theo got the photocopy of the old map from the truck. He stood next to Annie, the whole of his arm pressing against hers. Annie’s instincts wrestled against getting closer and moving away.

  “See?” he said. “There’s the railroad line, and we’re here. That means that Beckwith Station, the actual train station, would have been about a quarter of a mile over that field.”

  Annie closed her eyes and tried to imagine the outline of Beckwith Station in the field. The color behind her lids glowed red from the sun. She felt Theo’s hands on her shoulders and opened her eyes. “See, I told you. We are getting closer. You just have to have faith.”

  She wriggled out from under his grasp. “Let’s go.”

  Theo pulled the handle on the door of his truck. It was locked.

  “Have you got my keys?”

  “No. Don’t you have them?”

  Theo searched the graveled ground. “They must be around here somewhere.”

  Annie cupped her hands around her face and squinted through the truck’s window. “Found them,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “In the ignition.”

  Theo looked in. “Oh, great.”

  “It’s okay,” said Annie. She knew what she was about to do would raise questions, but she didn’t see another alternative that wouldn’t make their time in Virginia even longer or call attention to them. She put down her backpack and pulled out a twisted wire hanger and a doorstop.

  Theo laughed nervously. “Most girls I know only carry lip balm and cell phones.”

  Annie stood at the driver-side window. “This might damage the stripping on your window a little bit, but it’s better than breaking it or calling a locksmith.”

  “Is it?” He watched as she pushed the doorstop in between the window’s glass and door frame. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared.”

  She handed him the coat hanger. “This will be easier if you help me. I’m going to wedge the window open. I need you to put the hanger in and push the ‘unlock’ button. Ready – one, two, three!”

  Theo did as he was told. Within seconds the doors unlocked. He opened the truck door.

  “So you just happen to have a doorstop and a twisted coat hanger in your bag,” said Theo, still confused. “Do you want to explain that?”

  “My mother loses her keys a lot,” she lied and got in the truck hoping Theo wouldn’t ask any more questions.

  The more they drove, the more the landscape resembled a Virginia that Annie had never seen. Narrow roads were canopied with trees, and gaps in the woodland along the side of the road revealed white farmhouses and fields glowing yellow in the sun.

  We lived in Virginia and I’ve never seen this, she thought.

  “This is it,” said Theo, pulling over onto the shaded side of the road. As they got out of the truck Annie realized she was nervous, almost expecting that Samantha Weston would be waiting for them, in the flesh, around the corner.

  Nestled in the trees and camouflaged by ivy were two stone pillars. On one was engraved Mont Verity, 1802. Annie slowly ran her fingers over the grooves in the stone. Shivers ran down her spine.

  The two pillars straddled a gravel driveway. Theo took her hand. “Shall we?”

  They walked past the pillars and down the drive. A small white gatehouse sat to the right, an old VW Beetle was parked to the side. Beyond the house sprawled a large field. Behind it lay thick woodland.

  “Hey,” said Theo. “What is it?”

  Annie was crying.

  “I don’t know. Even though we knew the house wouldn’t be here, I just …”

  “Can I help you?” A voice came from behind. Annie and Theo turned around.

  A young woman in her mid-thirties stood in the doorway of the small house. Her auburn hair was in a ponytail; her eyes sparkled behind tortoiseshell glasses. A yoga mat was slung over her shoulder and car keys rattled in her hand.

  Annie froze. The woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her.

  “Hi,” said Theo. He nudged Annie.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” said the woman, “but this is private property.”

  “Oh, we’re sorry,” said Theo. “It’s just, we drove down here from Vermont this morning to try and find out … we’re looking for someone, something. Only we’re not really sure what anymore.”

  Where do I know her from? Annie thought.

  “I’m on my way to teach a class. Do you need directions or something?”

  Annie and Theo exchanged glances. Annie reached into her backpack. “I have this letter that is addressed to, well, this address.”

  “I only just moved here,” she said. “And the person who lived here before died a year ago.”

  “Here,” said Annie, handing the woman Samantha’s letter in its envelope.

  She took it and studied Annie. “Have we met before?” she asked.

  “Um, no. That’s impossible.”

  “You’re not from around here?”

  “No, I live in Vermont,” she stuttered.

  The woman smiled, unsure, then read the address on the envelope. Her eyes widened.

  “This is addressed to Sanford Weston,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Annie. “Do you know anything about him?”

  “No, not really, just that this gatehouse was once part of his plantation.”

  The woman pulled Samantha’s letter out of the envelope and carefully unfolded it.

  “This was written in 1861!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  Annie hesitated. “In my house in Vermont. There’s a concealed room in the basement and I found it in there.”

  Annie and Theo watched the woman read the letter. She gasped. “This is from Samantha Weston.”

  “You know of her?” said Theo.

  “Oh my goodness. And you’ve brought it all the way here. Why?”

  “The letter was never sent,” said Theo, “and we don’t know what happened to her afterwards, like if she ever came back here or saw her father again.”

  “I can’t believe it.” The woman shook her
head in wonder. “Come in,” she said, motioning them towards the door. “There’s something in my house that I know you’ll want to see.”

  Chapter 16

  Almost everyone at Mont Verity noticed the change in Samantha.

  Her mother noticed it when she showed Samantha the engagement and wedding announcement in the Beckwith Station Gazette. She expected a fierce confrontation, or at the very least a flurry of defiance, but Samantha, who lay on her chaise reading, only said, “Thank you, Mother.”

  Her mother left the room awash with relief. “Finally,” her mother thought. “Finally.”

  Her father noticed the change in Samantha on the same day. He was in his office, meeting with Clement Durant, the slave overseer, when Samantha entered.

  “What is it, Samantha?” her father asked.

  Samantha had not expected to see Durant. Her father’s rules meant they were rarely in the same room. But ever since Nessie told her of his forcing himself on the female slaves, the very mention of his name made her angry and ill. He was short and flaccid, with his round, soft belly hanging over his too-tight trousers. He made the whole room smell of rancid salt and chewing tobacco.

  “Father, I need to speak with you.”

  “We’re just finishing up,” said her father. He nodded to Durant. “You can go, now.”

  “Yes, Master Weston.” Durant waddled to the door. He and Samantha made brief eye contact, and Samantha felt chills run over her skin. All she could think about was poor Oma, poor Nessie, poor Chimi, the countless other slaves and the many times they’d had to endure the weight of this repulsive man. She was glad when he’d left and closed the door.

  Her father came out from behind his desk and embraced his daughter. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he said, bringing her over to the couch.

  Samantha had not slept the previous night. Her head had been too full of Nessie’s words and Amira’s blood. She had to do something. By the time her sleepless night turned to day, she knew what that was.

  “I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened recently – the cotillion, the engagement. And I want you to know that I think you’re right. I will marry Royal.”

  She watched the joy spread over her father’s face. Samantha still hoped Eli would return. But that was days away. Her long-term plans would have to come second to what had, overnight, become her two primary concerns: the slaves on the plantation and the care of Odus and Amira. For now, this was the only way.

  “Samantha, that’s wonderful,” he said. “I’m sure you know it means a great deal to your mother and I …”

  “Papa, if I’m to marry Royal there are some things I need to know first.”

  Her father shifted in his seat. “Um … perhaps it would be better if you had this conversation with your mother.”

  Samantha blushed. “No, no, not that conversation. What I mean is, when I marry Royal I will become lady of the house. Of two houses, in fact. And I believe it’s essential that I learn how a house is run. I want to spend some time this week with the house slaves so I can find out more about their duties and how they’re assigned and organized.”

  “Samantha, there’s no need …”

  “I promise I won’t get in the way. Please, Father. Surely you agree I can’t arrive at Dominion Royale with nothing to offer. Please.”

  She felt her father’s hesitance and readied herself for more debate. But he softened, and smiled.

  “I’m proud of you, Samantha. Let’s go round up the house slaves and let them know you’ll be observing and asking questions this week.”

  Samantha threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Father,” she said. “Thank you.”

  The house slaves also noticed the change in their young mistress. It was as if the girl they’d known for 17 years had gone to bed a caterpillar and woken up a butterfly. She passed the whole morning in the sweltering kitchen asking what the slaves thought about their situation and what could be done to make it better. Most were too scared to offer any suggestions, just in case their comments were one day used against them. But even spending one morning in the kitchen, Samantha could see clearly what needed to change.

  “It’s madness to allow them only one task,” she said to her father over lunch. “The poor girl that’s stuck washing the dishes all day – have you seen her hands? I’m surprised she has any skin left. They should be on a rota – perhaps one for the breakfast dishes, then another for the lunch wash. And it’s far too hot in there. There should be at least two slaves on fanning duty, and installing a larger window on the north side would let cooler air in.”

  Her father nodded repeatedly to hide his bemusement and promised Samantha that he and her mother would look into the practicality of her suggestions. He didn’t notice her slipping parts of her lunch into a napkin, food destined for Odus and Amira.

  The last person to notice the change in Samantha Weston that day was Clement Durant. It was the end of the day and he was in Samantha’s father’s office to give him a report of the day’s work. At the end of their meeting he emerged into the darkened hallway, and the last thing he expected was to have a pistol pressed into his back.

  Samantha’s voice came from over his shoulder. “I’m only going to say this to you once, Mr. Durant. If I ever again hear of you forcing yourself on one of the slaves, I’ll personally tie you to the whipping tree and let every single girl you’ve raped have a turn with the whip. Do you understand?”

  Durant thought it was a joke. He turned to laugh. Samantha twisted his arm and pushed him against the wall.

  “Do you understand?” she repeated.

  The answer stuck in his throat. “Yes, Miss Weston,” he whispered.

  Samantha pushed him away and did not move until he was out of sight.

  Only Nessie knew the real reason behind Samantha’s transformation. But even she was not prepared for the change. When Samantha wasn’t leaving one of the house slaves wide mouthed over her sudden concern for their welfare, she was doing everything she could to help Odus and Amira. She brought them food five times that day. She commissioned new work clothes for some of the house slaves so that their old clothes could be passed to Odus and Amira. She did the same with bedding so that Odus and Amira each had a blanket to sleep on and a pillow under their heads. The only one not surprised by the change was Samantha herself. She didn’t even notice. She had found a purpose so strong that it was hard to conceive she might have once been any different.

  But Nessie was completely unprepared for Samantha’s insistence that Odus and Amira be let out of the eaves at night.

  “The air just doesn’t move in there,” she said. “I’m surprised either of them can breathe.”

  Her instructions were that between the hours of 10pm and 6am, Nessie would guard Samantha’s door and tap the floor three times if someone approached. If her parents asked why their daughter needed a slave outside her door she would say that she was bleeding particularly hard that week and would need extra help in the night if either she or her bedding needed a change of linen.

  On the first night of Samantha’s new regime, Nessie assumed her position outside Samantha’s door. All was quiet and still in the house until the grandfather clock struck twelve, and then she heard hushed voices behind Samantha’s door.

  Miss Amira, she thought. She’s bleeding again.

  Nessie carefully opened the door into Samantha’s dark room. First, she saw Amira, curled up on Samantha’s bed, sound asleep. Then she saw Samantha and Odus, sitting by Samantha’s open window, their backs to the door. Both were hunched over a dimly lit lantern.

  “Miss Sammy,” she whispered. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine, Nessie,” Samantha whispered back. Nessie saw an open book on the floor between Samantha and Odus, and a small stack on the windowsill.

  Nessie thought she might melt into the floor. She’s teaching him to read, she thought. “You take care not to be too loud now.”

  “We will, Miss Nessie,” said Odu
s.

  Nessie closed the door and mumbled to herself, “I’s an old woman and I seen lots in my time, but I ain’t ever expected I’d see anything like that.”

  “We’d better stop now,” said Samantha, closing the book. “But take the books and the lantern. It will give you something to do while you’re in the eaves.” She handed them to him and smiled. “You’re a fast learner.”

  Odus looked at Samantha in the moonlight. “Why’s you doing all this, Miss Sammy?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Being so nice, teaching me.”

  Samantha looked over at Amira asleep on her bed. “I don’t know how to explain it. I guess I always thought – or was always taught – that you, Negroes, I mean – were animals, of the devil, not human. Something about seeing Amira last night … I just want her to be where she’ll never be hurt like that again.”

  “You know,” said Odus, “when Mister Eli promised us our freedom, I thought it couldn’t be for real. I thought there be no way a white man would promise such a thing. But now, being here, meetin’ you, I’s starting to think some white folks might not be so bad after all.”

  Samantha put her hand on Odus’ arm. “Eli promised you he’d free you?”

  Odus hesitated, certain he’d said the wrong thing. “Well, yes ma’am. He say, that’s why he come when Cudgen taking us here to be slaves. He say, if we can do as we told for a week he gonna go find a way fo’ us to get north. He said, your daddy didn’t really believe in slavery anyway. He say, something about some kind of railroad that can take us where we don’t have to be slaves no more.”

  “But I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. He said what he was doing was going to convince my parents that he and I …” She looked at Amira sleeping on the bed. “Of course, why didn’t I think of that before? He knows Father wants to cut back on slave labor. He wants to show him he’s serious about it too. But why didn’t he tell me? Was he afraid I’d tell Father? He should have trusted me. Why didn’t he trust me?”

  Odus had no answer for the questions that poured out.