Theo checked Kate’s email. “No. Just four attachments. That’s all there is.”
Annie bashed her fists against Theo’s desk. “No. No! This isn’t right. She can’t have died this way.”
“Annie, calm down.”
“I won’t! I can’t! Don’t you see? If there’s no hope for her then there’s no hope for me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is! You want to know the real reason why I’ve wanted to know what happened to her so badly? Because she and I are more alike than you realize.”
“Annie, I know …”
“No, you don’t know. You think you do, but you don’t.”
Annie grabbed her jeans from under the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going home.”
“Why?”
“There’s nothing else for me to do here. We wanted to know what happened to her, and now we do. We’re done.”
“Listen for a minute. Maybe this is all Kate had, but there has to be something we’re missing.”
“We’re not missing anything. The girl at the library said the paper probably stopped after Fort Sumter because all the men went to fight for the south. That was April 12, the day Samantha was hung. There’s nothing more.” She pulled on her boots and rushed to the door.
“Wait, Annie,” said Theo. “Don’t go.”
Annie paused and rested her forehead on Theo’s doorframe. She feared if she turned to face him she would never leave.
“I have to,” she said. “We both know what has to happen now. My family and I will leave here today.”
“You can’t go. You just can’t. We’ve only just … I care too much just to let you go.”
“If Samantha Weston didn’t get a happy ending then there’s no reason why I should either.” She opened the door and walked down the stairs. Theo quickly pulled on his jeans and grabbed his coat.
“At least let me walk you home.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, “if you really are leaving then I’m staying with you until you do.”
Annie held Theo’s hand as they walked down the road to her house for the last time. His grasp calmed her and she decided to walk slowly. Most of the times she’d travelled this road had been rushed – her head down and her focus on getting from one place to the other quickly. This time, she took in everything around her – the icy puddles reflecting the sun and the small cracks in the pavement as they went over the bridge. She looked up at the mountains, the beautiful mountains, just as sparkling snow began to fall from the sky.
“Does it ever stop snowing here?” Annie half-joked.
“Eventually,” said Theo. “Although we have been known to get dumped with a few feet in May.”
“When it snows in Virginia everything shuts down. Schools get canceled, even the Metro into DC won’t run. That’s one of my first memories of moving to Virginia, actually. I’d been promised a trip to the National Zoo to see the new panda, but then it snowed and my mother refused to drive to the Metro stop.”
“Sounds traumatic,” he said, squeezing her hand.
Small talk felt futile, but Annie did not want to stop. She wanted to take in everything he had to offer, so she could take it with her wherever she went.
“What’s your first childhood memory?”
“My mom telling me that under no circumstances was I allowed in her study. I don’t think I even asked or tried – it was just a rule for all of us that she instilled early. Her study was sacred. I guess because it was the one room in the house where she could escape all the testosterone.”
“What did she do in there?”
“I’m not really sure. She read a lot, and wrote sometimes. She kept diaries – you know, journals and things. But I think mainly it was just a refuge.”
“So did you stay out?”
“Mostly. I went in there a few times, but only when I knew everyone was out of the house.”
“What’s in it?”
“A desk. Mementos, I guess – stuff she’s collected over the years. Mostly shelves crammed with books I’ve never heard of. I never touched them, but I would always get a crick in my neck looking at the titles.”
“Have you been in there since she …”
“No. Not yet. I’m almost afraid to. Like going in there might explain why she left and sometimes I’m not sure I want to know.”
“I understand.”
Theo stopped and held both her hands. “Do you want to know what I’m going to miss most about you? The fact that you really do understand. I know things haven’t changed for me as drastically as they have for you, but Mom’s leaving still feels like a big deal.”
“That’s because it is.”
“And now you’re leaving, too.”
They resumed their walk.
“Where do you think you’ll go next?” said Theo.
“I really don’t know,” said Annie. “We don’t tend to plan these things in advance.”
Theo half laughed. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Do you think your father will go with you?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I kinda left before he could tell me much.”
“It’s not going to be the same here without you.”
“Nah, you’ll go back to high school tomorrow and be around all those girls, and you’ll soon forget I was ever here.”
Theo put his hand around her waist. “I can’t see myself ever settling for someone who isn’t you.”
“Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek. “For everything.”
“And I’m not giving up on Samantha Weston either. Maybe that was all Kate found, but I’m sure we’re missing something.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“You have to promise me something.”
“What?”
“When all of this is finished, when you finally get a normal life back, you have to let me know. Facebook, phone, whatever. Just let me know when you’re okay.”
“I will. I promise.”
“I know it’s no joke. You’re in real danger. And I’m going to be worried sick until you tell me it’s over.”
“I promise. You’ll be the first to know.”
“So,” he said, as they rounded the corner, “do I get to meet your parents?”
Annie laughed. “I don’t see why not. As long as you remember to forget us.”
“Your parents, yes. You, never.”
Her house came into view. Annie stopped dead in her tracks.
“Annie?” said Theo.
In front of her house, bright as day, was a police car. A Virginia State Police car.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “He found us.”
Chapter 26
Samantha Weston sat in her cell, the same cell into which she’d been deposited after the journey back from Vermont. From the hard wooden bench on which she’d slept over the past week, she looked out the barred window at the hanging platform. Two men secured the noose that would go around her neck and then checked the trap door that would disappear under her feet. The yard in which it sat was surrounded by a tall, thick wooden fence. Behind it, Samantha could hear the sounds of the crowd. In the time Samantha had been in her cell, there had always been a crowd outside the fence. They threw rotten food. They yelled “nigger lover” and “murderer.” And today they would watch her hang.
She’d already been granted her final wish for a washtub, warm water and soap. She’d scrubbed the dirt from behind her ears and untangled the knots in her hair. She’d washed her dress and petticoats, the same clothes that had taken her on the most extraordinary journey of her life.
She was not afraid to die. If dying meant Odus might live, then she would happily put the noose around her neck. But was he safe? She would never know. She could only hope that he’d stayed hidden as she’d instructed, then continued his journey north. At the very least, she hadn’t heard he’d been caught. On this last day of her life, she decided, that would have to be e
nough.
She thought about her parents. Her father had testified at her trial, only to confirm that his slaves had in fact disappeared on the night of Samantha’s cotillion, and that he and Royal had found Eli’s body. If he’d tried to meet his daughter’s eye while in the witness stand, Samantha did not know; she simply couldn’t bring herself to look at him. It was only when he stepped down from the stand and exited the courthouse that Samantha looked up to catch a glimpse of him, but by then he was gone.
As the sun rose higher, the voices on the other side of the fence became louder and thicker. She knew that this would be a public hanging, that she was to be an example to both whites and blacks.
She was happy to be that example.
The guard came to her cell. She had been his sole charge over the past week, and Samantha felt that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. In here, she was a prisoner, guilty of two of the worst crimes one could commit. In the real world, she was a lady, a plantation owner’s daughter. He spoke to her with a mixture of respect and repulsion, never sure whether it was right for him to be kind or cruel.
“Miss Weston,” he said, “it’s time.”
Samantha rose and clasped her hands together so he could bind her wrists. He took her by the elbow and led her down the corridor. At the entrance to the yard, another guard stopped them.
“You need to wait here,” he said. “They just opened the gate to let people into the square. It could take a while.”
The two guards stood awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Samantha stared at the ground, until she found it easier to lean against the brick wall of the corridor and close her eyes.
She remembered Odus’ arm around her while they lay in the compartment of Moses’ wagon, how he’d held her tight during the danger and beyond. She conjured the sensation of his body against hers on their last night together, hidden underneath Mr. Jennings’ stairs. She pictured his face when she told him to stay in the hidden room, his eyes dark and deep like the woods in which they’d first met. What she’d give just to see his face once more, to tell him that she loved him and that there was no one else on this earth for whom she would more willingly die.
“Miss Weston?” said the guard.
Samantha opened her eyes and let him lead her into the square. The sun temporarily blinded her as she emerged into daylight. Her eyes adjusted, and she was stunned by what she saw.
People. Hundreds of people. Whites at the front, blacks at the back. The loud rumble of voices waned as Samantha was led onto the platform. The guard let her walk up the ramp first, her feet unsteady as she navigated its creaks and grooves.
Once on the platform, she was awed by her view of the crowd. Not by the dozen or so rows of whites, mainly farmers, but by the throng of slaves behind them, hundreds of faces receding into the back of the square so far that Samantha could not make out their features. There were too many to fit into the courthouse yard, so instead they surrounded the fence to the courthouse, and even the courthouse itself. She’d never seen so many people in her life.
The guard positioned her over the trapdoor.
She thought of the trapdoor in Jem’s barn, how it was so well hidden and how it led her to safety that night.
How very different to the trapdoor on which she now stood.
Clement Durant approached. The front of the crowd cheered. True to his promise, he slipped the noose around her neck.
“I hope you rot in hell,” he said.
“I look forward to seeing you there.”
Durant jumped off the platform. The judge ascended the stairs.
“Have you any last words, Miss Weston?” he shouted.
Samantha scanned the crowd. If her parents were there, she could not see them. At the back of the rows of whites, she saw Royal Fabre, his tired eyes sunk deep into his once flawless face. She stood tall and spoke clearly.
“I am not ashamed of what I have done. If my actions have ensured the freedom of just one slave, then the consequences have been worth it.”
The whites began to boo and hiss. The air was heavy. The judge stepped off the platform, and the guard took the lever in his hand. Samantha waited for the floor beneath her feet to disappear. A pastor stood in front, his hand in the air, praying for her absolution. Samantha prayed only that it would be over quickly.
Everything came to a halt as a man came out of the courthouse and ran to the judge. Samantha could not hear what was said, but judge bounded up the stairs and held up his hands. The crowd quietened.
“Good people of Virginia!” he shouted. “I have news! In the early hours of this morning our brave Southern Army fired on the Yankee post at Fort Sumter. Word is that it has been completely destroyed.”
The whites erupted into applause and cheer, hugging and patting each other on the back. The blacks behind them were still and silent. The judge held up his hands to quiet the crowd.
“Let this be a day where clear messages are sent. To the North we say, leave us alone! Let us live our lives as we have for centuries! To those who want an end to slavery, let them look at the hanging body of Samantha Weston and know the consequences of their interference!”
The crowd cheered again, and Samantha noticed that in their revelry two black figures pushed their way through the throng of jubilant whites. Samantha blinked, convinced her eyes were playing tricks. Making their way into the center of the crowd, plain as day, were Odus and Moses. Samantha gasped.
The trapdoor moved under her feet, and the noose tightened around her neck.
Chapter 27
“He’s here,” Annie cried. “Sanchez is here. He’s going to kill them. Theo, he’s going to kill my parents. I have to do something.”
She lurched, and Theo grabbed her arm. “Wait! What are you doing?”
“I have to save them.”
“Annie, are you crazy? From what you’ve told me, we can’t go anywhere near this guy. Let’s run back to the store and call the cops.”
“We can’t!” She wrestled her arm out of Theo’s grasp. “I have to go in there before it’s too late.”
“You can’t go in there by yourself.”
“What, and you’re going to come in? This isn’t a game, Theo. He’ll kill you.”
Theo’s eyes darted around the landscape. “We need to find out if there’s anyone else in there besides Sanchez.”
“But, Theo …”
He pulled her towards the house. They stayed low until they reached the side window to the living room, then got on their knees. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted out the window, followed by the sound of Sanchez’s horrible voice.
He’s opened the window, she thought, just like he used to at home.
“You think I don’t know what he’s been doing?” He hissed. “Spying, taking pictures. You’re going to tell me where he’s keeping it all.” His words were followed by a hard thump. Annie heard her mother groan. Where was her father? Had Sanchez killed him already? It took all Annie’s willpower to not stand up and look through the window.
“Theo,” she whispered, “my mother …”
“Where’s your father?”
“I don’t know.”
Theo looked at Sanchez’s police car. “I’m going to lure him out of the house.”
“How?” He began rifling through her backpack.
“Just trust me. Stay here and wait for my signal.”
“What signal?”
“You’ll know it when you hear it. Then I need you to get into the house and free your mom. I’ll hold him off as long as I can.”
“Theo, you don’t know what …”
“Annie, please.” He kissed her quickly and ran toward the front of the house.
Annie waited. With every passing second she expected to hear a gunshot ring out, either at Theo or at her mother’s fragile heart. Still on her knees, she peered around the corner of the house. She saw Theo run to the side of Sanchez’s police car, out of view.
She looked down into her open backpack and
saw what Theo had taken: the doorstop and hanger.
Theo squatted beside the driver-side door and willed himself to get a grip. All his life, he had never felt he was a guy with much to offer. For what did he know? He knew that the best bread to have with Provolone was sourdough, that the Red Sox weren’t going to win the World Series, and that he would never get into an Ivy League college unless it offered a major in World of Warcraft. Then Annie walked into his family’s store, confident and reticent at the same time, with three lifetimes already lived. She embodied everything he now knew really mattered: bravery, curiosity and the infinite rewards for daring to look in corners and under stairs. He steeled himself, squeezed the two objects he held in his hands, and remembered something else she’d taught him.
How to break into a car.
Annie’s mother could not see straight. No amount of blinking brought even the nearest of objects into focus. Her head throbbed in three different places from where Sanchez had hit her with his gun. The skin on her wrists and ankles chafed against the ropes that tied her to the chair.
She was experiencing what she could only assume was her life flashing before her eyes. She saw her parents’ tiny house in Arizona, the history library at Arizona State, and the bar where she’d worked to pay her way through college. She saw the night she met her husband, a shining beacon in a sea of army uniforms. She saw the ream of sleepless nights she’d endured when Annie was a baby, the monotony of the dozen army bases where they’d lived, and the fury at her husband for all he’d never let her become. How could she have done it differently? Sitting in this chair, about to die, she knew what she’d failed to do: speak up.
Sanchez circled the chair, a cigarette burning in his hand.
“You gonna start talking?”
“I told you,” she said wearily. “I haven’t seen him since the night you burned our house down.”
“But you’ve talked to him?”
“No.”
Thump. She groaned.
“And what about that little slut of a daughter? Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Thump. “I know she lives here. One of my comrades saw her, in Virginia. And while she was there she sent me a little email.”
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