Second Chance Love

by Shannon Farrington

  “Point taken,” Sam said. “And by the way, thank you for coming to the store when you did. Thank you for that article. Please, thank Elizabeth for her sketch, also.”

  With that, they parted company.

  David told Elizabeth about the conversation as they walked home. She was overjoyed but just as inquisitive. “So Sam and Julia do know what happened to the boys?”

  “Apparently so, at least to some extent, but they won’t speak of the particulars.”

  “Do you think we will ever learn what happened?”

  “I’m certainly going to keep my eyes and ears open,” he said. He told Elizabeth of the warning he’d given Sam, how he believed Wallace was foolish enough to take revenge on someone even if they weren’t directly involved in the boys’ escape.

  “I have feared the same,” she said. She then sighed. “When do you leave for Annapolis?”

  “Next week.”

  The state convention was convening, and Peter wanted him to cover the proceedings firsthand. Elizabeth would be staying here. David knew time away from her would be good for him.

  Ever since her revelation that he had paved the way for Jeremiah to win her heart, David had found it increasingly difficult to be near her. He did not like, however, the idea of leaving her unprotected in Baltimore. There was always that risk of rebel invasion, and now he had angry slaveholders to worry about, as well.

  Elizabeth smiled innocently. “If it will ease your mind concerning Elijah and Elisha, then while you are gone I’ll do a little investigating.”

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Absolutely not! I don’t want you doing anything of the sort!”

  The look in her eyes told him she was surprised, if not outright wounded by his words. He had never spoken harshly to her before. He hadn’t meant to do so now.

  “Forgive me,” he said immediately. “It’s just I don’t want you getting hurt. Wallace is a dangerous man. Promise me you’ll not go near that dry goods store while I’m gone.”

  “I promise.”

  “Thank you.” He tried to focus again on their assignments. “Besides, you’ll be busy covering the Sanitary Fair.”

  “Indeed,” she said, her enthusiasm returning. “Mr. Carpenter has already said he wants me to cover the fair each day that it is open.”

  The event was being held in order to raise funds for the military hospitals and prisons. It was the result of collaboration between the US Sanitary Commission and the US Christian Commission. The former concerned itself chiefly with the welfare of Northern soldiers. The latter, although still under the Union banner, tended to the spiritual and physical needs of prisoners of war.

  Because the generated funds would not be spent on guns or ammunition for the US Army, all of Elizabeth’s friends were participating. Mrs. Emily Mackay, herself now a Christian Commission delegate, was coming from Washington to participate in the activities, as well.

  “You will be attending the opening ceremonies with me, won’t you?” Elizabeth asked.

  A smile returned to David’s face—he was pleased that Elizabeth wished for him to be alongside her. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “I won’t leave for Annapolis until the following morning.”

  * * *

  On the day of the fair they made their way over to the Maryland Institute on East Baltimore Street. The great hall was jammed full of fairgoers. Patriotic bunting decorated the balconies. Rows of tables filled with everything from quilts to socks, hats to cigars, which were being sold for soldiers’ and prisoners’ relief. In addition, there was an art gallery with oil paintings on loan by the local citizens. The fire department had an exhibit and there were vast displays of farm machinery and saddlery, as well.

  David and Elizabeth moved about the hall, capturing noteworthy details for the paper. When they had finished, they stopped by the home goods department to visit with her friends. Emily Mackay and Sally Hastings were busy at their booth selling socks. From the looks of things, the ladies would soon have little inventory left. A horde of customers surrounded their table.

  When Emily saw Elizabeth, she escaped the crowd and came running to greet her.

  “Oh, gracious!” she exclaimed. “Look at you! Don’t you look official with your sketchbook and press card? Congratulations!”

  Elizabeth smiled and hugged her friend. “It is I who should congratulate you. Your mother told me your news. I declare, you are practically glowing!”

  David was so proud of her. The last time Elizabeth had seen Emily she was in tears. Now she was congratulating the soon-to-be mother. He knew full well her heart would always carry a scar, but it was healing.

  Emily smiled happily. “Yes. I suspect I shall be quite busy come Christmastime.”

  David offered his congratulations. “I am certain Dr. Mackay must be quite proud.”

  “He is indeed.” Emily glanced about. “He’s around here somewhere trying to convince people what a good cause this fair is, get them to spend even more money than they already have.”

  Elizabeth and he exchanged glances, knowing the army physician had the commanding personality and military authority to do just that.

  “From the looks of things, I’d say Evan has been very successful,” Elizabeth said. “And you have, as well.”

  “Thank you. I had no idea when we organized that clothing and fund-raising drive for the Confederate prisoners last fall that it would eventually lead to such a grand scale as this.”

  Elizabeth smiled once more. “I suppose not.” She looked toward the knitting table. “I see Sally, but where is Julia? Wasn’t she supposed to help you?”

  “She was, but at the last minute she and Sam had an opportunity to take a holiday in Philadelphia. One of Sam’s colleagues offered his home. They went, but not before Julia dropped off a bountiful supply of socks.”

  Hearing that, David’s pulse quickened. A holiday in Philadelphia was not all that odd, but the timing of it seemed suspicious. He couldn’t help but think of Wallace’s tirade at the paper. Did Sam think it prudent to leave town for a while?

  Elizabeth didn’t seem to think much of it, though. She inquired of Emily’s parents, and of Joshua and Abigail Davis. “Did they come with you tonight?”

  “Mother and Father are about,” Emily said, “but have you not heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Abigail and Joshua left town last week. They decided to go north.”

  “North?” Elizabeth quickly looked at David.

  His shock matched hers. Joshua Davis had only recently told him that he and his wife were perfectly content working for Emily’s family for the foreseeable future. Why would he suddenly leave town?

  “It was quite a surprise to me, as well,” Emily said. “When I arrived home, Father told me they had gone.”

  “Did they say why they were going?” David asked, his heart beating faster with each passing moment.

  “Father said they wished to strike out on their own. I can certainly understand that, but I wish they would have waited just a little longer. They knew Evan and I were returning to Baltimore this week.”

  “Did they say where they were going?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Father said he didn’t know exactly, but they promised to write when they could.”

  Before David or Elizabeth could ask any other questions, Sally beckoned for Emily’s attention. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “I’m needed back at the table. I’ll let you know when I hear from them.”

  Emily then flew off, leaving them to ponder what she had just said. David’s mind was racing. He had just profiled Joshua and Abigail in the Free American. Had his article stirred up some trouble for the couple, perhaps brought them to the attention of old enemies from their pasts? Were his words enough to make some slaveholder, someone like Wallace, so angry that h
e threatened the family?

  * * *

  Elizabeth knew David was worried. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

  “What have I done?”

  “We don’t know that anything is actually wrong,” she said. “It could just be a coincidence. Sam went to school in Philadelphia. He has many friends there. It may be just a holiday.”

  “But Joshua and Abigail leaving town, as well?”

  Elizabeth had to admit that did seem rather suspicious. “There may be another possibility, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  She stepped closer, unwilling to let others around them overhear. “You and I both know Philadelphia is teeming with abolitionist activity. Perhaps Sam and Julia have gone there for that purpose. It could have something to do with Elijah and Elisha. Abigail and Joshua could even be involved in some way.”

  David exhaled slowly. “If they are responsible for taking those boys, do you know what will happen to them if they are caught?”

  Of course she knew, and the thought of such made her shiver. Whether they were met by bounty hunters or officers of the law, the consequences could be just as tragic.

  “I shouldn’t have conducted those interviews,” he said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You’ve done nothing more than your duty as a journalist,” she insisted. “I read those articles, as well, you know. You wrote the truth, and you did so skillfully, not in a way that would incite anger or cause harm.”

  A look of turmoil was on his face. Elizabeth suddenly had the desire to throw her arms around him and embrace him, to speak words of comfort as he had so often done for her. She held back, though, not trusting her own motives. She’d been thinking of him more than she should lately, in ways that she shouldn’t.

  She kept her place but did not shy away from trying to encourage him.

  “David, it is important that you keep doing as you are. The people of Maryland need to hear the truth, and you are the one to tell them. You must go to Annapolis tomorrow and write about what is happening, what will happen if slaves are not immediately emancipated.”

  He said nothing, but it was obvious by the look on his face now that he appreciated her words.

  * * *

  David left for Annapolis the following morning. Heading to work, Elizabeth promptly delivered her sketches of the Sanitary Fair to Mr. Carpenter.

  “Your diagram of the exhibits will be printed in the next edition,” he said. “I’d like you to return today and do a few more sketches.”

  More was good—more sketches meant more payment. “Is there anything in particular you want featured?”

  “Whatever catches your eye. Whatever seems to catch the visitors’ eyes. Mr. Ross will be stopping by to cover a few specific stories later on today, but your work and his don’t have to coincide. We want to cover as much of the fair as possible.”

  “I understand.” She was pleased she wouldn’t have to actually accompany Mr. Ross about the fair. He’d probably spend most of his time at the cigar table, anyway.

  “In addition to your sketches,” Mr. Carpenter then said, “I want you to gather the daily attendance figures and sales tallies when they are announced.”

  “Very well.” Thankfully, he only wanted numbers, not words in paragraph form. Elizabeth was not a writer. That was David’s talent.

  He had barely been gone a day, and yet already she missed him.

  Elizabeth wished she could have gone to the state convention, as well, but due to propriety’s sake, as well as the paper’s limited funds, Mr. Carpenter could send only one staff member to the capital.

  Her editor had repeatedly grumbled about that. “The Sun will have their artists in Annapolis, but the Free American won’t.”

  He was grumbling about it now. “Pity we can’t have you cover the statehouse, as well as the fair.”

  An idea suddenly crossed her mind. Elizabeth took a chance and offered a suggestion.

  “If I may, Mr. Carpenter, I traveled to the statehouse several times before the war. I am quite familiar with the appearance of the delegates’ chambers.”

  Before the war, during the banking crisis, her father had been asked to testify in the area of his financial expertise concerning what the coming years could mean for Maryland’s economy. Elizabeth had been given the privilege of viewing the proceedings from the ladies’ balcony. The statehouse was beautiful, top to bottom, from its dome to the marble floor. She vividly remembered how the sunlight poured in the wide, elongated windows and spilled on to the very spot where George Washington himself had once addressed state delegates during his own time.

  “I’m certain I could re-create the architecture from memory,” she said. “And with delegate Van der Geld having been elected majority leader, he will surely be doing a good bit of speaking. He is the father of a friend of mine—”

  “Where are you taking me, Miss Martin?” her editor said impatiently, scarcely looking up.

  She hurried to the point. “Perhaps I could provide you with sketches after all. I am quite familiar with Mr. Van der Geld’s face and would have little trouble replicating it. I could review Mr. Wainwright’s articles as he wires them in each day and then create an appropriate scene.”

  Mr. Carpenter liked the idea, although you would never know it by that furrowed forehead and still irritated tone of his voice. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Mr. Keedy is responsible for gathering the wires. Have him give them to you first.”

  “Thank you. I will do so.”

  With a smile, she hurried off. There was something special about being the first to read David’s words. She eagerly awaited his wire.

  * * *

  David shifted uncomfortably in his Windsor chair. He and the rest of his fellow journalists were seated at the back of the chamber, beneath the ladies’ balcony, watching the proceedings. Already a week had passed, and the delegates seemed more interested in voting their pay and arguing the positions that had brought about war in the first place than actually writing the provision that would forever end slavery in Maryland.

  The minority members, led by delegate Harold Nash, repeatedly professed loyalty to the Union but always in the context of states’ rights. They did not like martial law or the hardships it imposed on the people of Maryland. The majority, rallied by Theodore Van der Geld, insisted national allegiance should supersede state allegiance. Of the ninety-six delegates assembled, roughly two-thirds of them pledged unconditional loyalty to President Lincoln, insisting he had the authority to use whatever means necessary for the good of the nation. Most of them had won their campaigns on the promise of abolition. David hoped they would indeed make good on that promise soon.

  When they finally did get around to addressing the subject, some members argued slave owners should be compensated and that Washington should foot the bill. David took note of an interesting argument from Mr. Brown of Queen Anne’s County. He thought, rather, the state should give something to the slaves. David quoted him as saying that otherwise they would be helpless “paupers of emancipation.”

  “That is preposterous!” said Theodore Van der Geld, and he insisted the counties rather than the state should and could care for the local poor.

  As expected, the idea of apprenticeship was proposed. “Free the adult slaves, but keep the children until they came of age,” one delegate offered. “Teach them a trade, to read and to write...”

  While instituting literacy had merit, David couldn’t help but think of little Elijah and Elisha. He seriously doubted a man like Wallace would have done anything to prepare those boys to take their place in the world.

  What of all the other children still in bondage? Will they have their freedom denied, their backs continually burdened until they come of age?

  The Unconditionals demanded the new state cons
titution free all slaves immediately and require an oath of loyalty be administered to every man wishing to vote. Anyone who had expressed Southern sympathy at any time, even if they had now relented, should lose their rights of citizenship.

  David thought immediately of the man at the polls who had insisted the slavery vote was simply a way for the Unconditionals to rewrite the constitution so as to control the outcome of future elections. How many people will vote against the new constitution if measures such as this are included? His heart sank. At this rate, the slaves will remain in bondage for quite some time.

  Each day he completed his articles, then went to the telegraph office and wired them to Peter. Afterward he sought supper at one of the local establishments. It was then that he felt most lonely. He missed Elizabeth. He wondered what she would say of the convention proceedings if she were here beside him.

  David had written her family twice but had addressed the letters to all of them together. He knew it would be unwise to write Elizabeth exclusively. He would be tempted to say things he shouldn’t.

  He picked at the crabs on the table in front of him, but he wasn’t all that hungry. A group of fellow reporters was gathered at a table across the way, puffing steadily on their cigars and discussing the day’s events.

  “Hey, Wainwright,” one of them called, “when are you going to give up writing for that two-bit press and go to work for a real news organization? One that would put a few more coins in your pocket? You know nobody is reading what you write, anyway.”

  A round of raucous laughter followed. David simply smiled at them and nodded as if their gibes had no effect, but they did. His spirit sank a little lower in his chest. Am I really accomplishing anything here?

  Elizabeth’s words came back to him. “The people of Maryland need to hear the truth, and you are the one to tell them.”

  While he appreciated her confidence in him, he knew for a fact it was undeserved. With a country at war and a legislature much the same, he wondered what good he, one idealistic yet seriously flawed reporter, could actually do.

  * * *