The girls hugged, as Therese called over her friend’s shoulder to Auntie Vera. “You’re free! You can go to Maine and live with Aggie.”
A smile spread across the old woman’s face.
Mother, who had been playing the piano, stopped. “It’s over? Are you certain?”
“That’s what everyone is saying,” Old Joe affirmed. “I stopped by the flour mill on my way home just to hear what they knew. They said the same thing.”
Over. Therese had never heard such a beautiful word. The fighting had stopped. The slaves had their freedom. Immediately, her thoughts fell to Michael. God, keep him safe, she prayed again. And bring him home.
Home. Perhaps River Pines was home after all for her, now that her family no longer owned others. Of course, only time would tell where home would be for Michael.
Auntie Vera said she’d stay at River Pines until Aggie and Badan sent for her, but Old Joe told them he’d probably stay for good. “Don’t know where I’d go,” he said. “I’m too old to leave.”
Therese assured him they’d pay him for his labors as soon as they could. She wished Sonny had waited to leave so she could have helped him, but she guessed because they hadn’t heard anything about him, that he’d made it to safety. Perhaps he’d joined up with the Union Army.
The next day, Therese confronted Mr. Porter without Mother’s permission and told him it was time for him to leave. Regardless of her mother’s fear that they didn’t have enough help, Therese couldn’t bear to have the man on the property any longer. He balked and said she couldn’t force him to. She gave him until the next day. That evening when he came into the kitchen, drunk and slurring orders at Auntie Vera, Therese stood in front of the fireplace. It was a chilly evening, and she had her cloak on. She turned and imitated Polly’s pistol trick in Richmond.
“I have Grandfather’s revolver. I want you to get out now and be gone by morning.”
He started to laugh. Therese held her hand higher just as a real gun cocked. Polly stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a Colt revolver pointed at Mr. Porter’s head.
“Well, then,” he said, turning slowly. “Just let me get to my cabin. I’ll be gone by morning.”
Therese couldn’t help but admire Polly’s courage. It turned out she’d been carrying the pistol around the last few days in case they needed protecting from marauders, but Therese also realized how much her own courage had grown. Life wasn’t always black and white—but when she knew what the right thing to do was, she’d been able to do it.
The next morning, a knock fell on the front door. Therese opened it, with Mother behind her, to find the county sheriff, a man by the last name of Brown, and a deputy.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Sheriff Brown said, “but we’re looking for a Mr. Porter. I believe he’s your overseer?”
“Was,” I said quickly. “I fired him yesterday.”
“Is he still around?”
“I’m not sure. What is this regarding?
“Just point us toward the overseer’s cottage,” the man said, ignoring her question. “We’ll go take a look.”
Rather than simply point the way, Therese led the men there herself, moving down the front steps, around the kitchen house, and then past the barn and stables. When they reached the cottage, Mr. Porter wasn’t there, though his packed satchel was on the bed.
“He must still be around here somewhere,” the deputy said. “I’ll search the grounds.”
He headed out while Sheriff Brown opened Mr. Porter’s bag, dumped its contents onto the bed, and rustled through them, seeming dissatisfied.
“What’s going on?” Mother demand, hovering in the doorway.
He turned and began to search the room as he explained. “Mr. Porter has been implicated in a crime. We arrested a local tavern owner yesterday for attempting to sell stolen merchandise and got a confession out of him this morning. He admitted this has been an ongoing scheme, and he fingered several people in the area who have been supplying him with stolen goods, including Porter. We’re here to arrest him.”
Mother put her hand to her throat.
As the sheriff continued to poke around, looking for a hiding place of some kind, he added that according to the fellow they had in custody, Porter had been stealing from this plantation for years. “He said that whenever the owner wasn’t around, Porter would send the slaves, including the house slaves, out to the far field and then sneak into the home and rifle around. He wouldn’t steal things that would be noticed missing right away, but he would take jewelry that was seldom worn, bills from a stack of money, a few pieces of silverware, that sort of thing. He didn’t want Mr. LeFevre to get suspicious.”
“All those things Father thought he’d misplaced,” Mother said. Her hand went to her throat again. “And my brooch.”
“Oh, dear,” Therese said.
“The item we caught the guy trying to sell yesterday,” Sheriff Brown told them, “was a fancy ring. A ruby surrounded by diamonds. It belonged to another family Porter works for sometimes, the Talbots? He was their handyman?”
Therese nodded as Mother gasped in dismay.
“Now we just need to find the guy so we can bring him in.”
“I found him all right,” the deputy called out from behind us. They all turned as he added, “But he’s dead.”
In shock, they followed him around the cottage and down past a stand of trees to the slave quarters, a row of five small clapboard buildings, only two of which were still in use. Sure enough, Mr. Porter was there, lying facedown on the ground.
Therese shuddered at the sight. “What do you think happened?”
The deputy walked over and pointed at Mr. Porter’s hand, which was discolored and swollen and clearly bore two reddish-brown dots on the back. “Snakebite. Probably a copperhead.”
The men loaded the body into the back of their wagon, saying they’d make sure he got a proper burial, and then they went about searching the other buildings, hoping to find some sort of hiding place. According to their prisoner, Mr. Porter had a “stash” where he hid items he’d stolen until he could get them to the seller. They found nothing, however, so they finally gave up.
Mother and Therese both thanked the men profusely, promising to continue the search on their own as time permitted and to let them know if they ever found anything. As the wagon rolled away, Therese’s knees grew weak. Mother clutched her arm and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you sooner.”
Therese patted her Mother’s hand. At least they would never have to worry about the man again.
Five days later, in the afternoon, Polly and Therese were walking from the kitchen to the back door of the house, each carrying a tray of porridge, when a neighbor arrived with the shocking and terrible news that President Lincoln had been shot the day before and then died that morning.
They thanked the neighbor for letting them know, and as he rode away, Therese asked Polly what this might mean for the Emancipation Proclamation.
“Will it be repealed, do you think?” Andrew Johnson, a Southern Unionist and former slaveholder, would now be president.
“No. It can’t be. I’m sure of it,” Polly answered as they stepped into the house.
After they’d shared the information with the others and fed the wounded, they headed back out to the kitchen.
“Isn’t it interesting?” Therese held onto the empty tray with one hand and opened the back door with the other. “How differently people in the same family can think?”
Polly nodded and slipped through the open door. “Like you and your mother.”
“Yes,” Therese answered, following her friend. “And you and Michael.”
“What?” Polly placed her tray onto the table.
Therese lowered her voice. “You were part of a spy network for the Union, while he was doing everything he could for the Confederacy.”
Polly pursed her lips and then whispered, “Don’t think because you knew a little, that you knew everything.” With that she gra
bbed two of the bowls and hurried into the parlor.
As Therese fed a soldier who’d lost one arm and was left with a mangled second one, she thought about Polly’s words. Michael had traveled in a thirty-mile radius around Richmond with no restrictions, often past Union encampments. He saw Polly frequently, and Alec too, along with others throughout the area. Most importantly, he wouldn’t have let her know if he was part of a network, just as she wouldn’t have let him know of her involvement. Not that she really was a spy, not like Polly. She’d simply passed on what she overheard or read. Perhaps his role wasn’t as it appeared to her either.
Therese glanced at Polly, who was feeding another soldier. They both had justifiable worries about their neighbors finding out what they had done to aid the Union, Polly far more than Therese.
She hoped there would be no more secrets among family and friends. Perhaps Michael would return soon so Therese could ask him what his true thoughts and beliefs were.
Three days later he did return. Therese, followed by Polly, ran down the front steps of the house as the wheels of the wagon rattled up the drive. Michael waved from the bench. By the time he stopped the wagon, it was obvious he transported both Confederate and Union soldiers.
“Do you have room for a few more?” he called out.
“Yes.” Therese wasn’t sure how they’d feed everyone, but they’d do the best they could. And she’d make sure Mother minded her manners.
Michael hopped down, his haversack bouncing against his middle, and hugged Polly. Therese took a step backward, and he tipped his cap to her.
Later that evening, after the last of the work was completed, Therese found Michael on the veranda in a rocking chair, his head leaned back, his eyes closed. The evening was warm, and a full moon rose over the stables. She watched him for a moment, working up her nerve to confront him.
“Therese?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a minute?”
She stepped toward him.
“Come sit,” he said.
She obliged and lowered herself onto the bench across from him.
“Is anyone around?” he whispered. “Your mother? Any of the wounded soldiers? Neighbors?”
She shook her head. Mother had gone to bed, Polly was on watch in the parlor, and no neighbors dared venture out after dark in such uncertain times.
They both spoke at once.
“I need to know what you really believe,” she said.
“I need to explain some things to you,” he said.
They both stopped for a moment and then smiled.
“May I go first?” He leaned forward in the rocking chair.
She nodded. The invisible thread between them tightened.
“I came back from France because I wanted to help—to do what I could to end the war as soon as possible for my family, for our neighbors, for the South, for the North. Nothing felt as if it were black and white—and as it turned out there were more shades of gray than there were different colors of Confederate uniforms. I met with—certain people in New York before I headed south.” He paused a moment and then added, “Including Alec and Ruth.”
“What?”
He nodded. “It was right before Alec came to Richmond. Contacts in France worked it out. We had it all planned from the beginning. Then, when I found out I could be part of the field hospital, I jumped at the chance. It made me more useful to Alec’s spy network.”
“What about Polly?” Therese asked. “Was she happy to have you spying?”
“No. In fact, she was against it.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t think both of us should be involved, not when our parents had already lost the twins. But she’d started spying for Alec before I could tell her not to. Between driving to the hospital, out into the country to find food, and near enemy camps, I was able to pass along information that Alec gave me. Sometimes I told other Southerners who passed it on. Other times I connected directly with Union spies, some who gave me money.”
“Which you then used to buy the food for the Confederate troops?”
He nodded.
It was all beginning to make sense.
Michael continued. “And I was able to get slaves started on the Underground Railroad too.”
“I had no idea,” she managed to say. “Thank you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “For trying to save Aggie and Badan.”
“No, thank you. Your plan was much better. And thank you for all you did too.”
From the look on his face, Therese knew he was talking about her efforts as a spy. “Polly told you?”
He shook his head. “I guessed from the information I received and knowing where you worked.”
“I didn’t guess any of it concerning you.”
“Well, I purposefully misled you.”
She nodded and looked away. Though she understood why he’d done it, it still hurt to hear him say the words. Didn’t he know he could’ve been honest with her all along?
“I needed to appear as supportive of the Confederacy as possible.”
“So the slavery thing, the ‘what did we go to war for if not to protect our property’ statement? You didn’t really believe that?”
“No.” He leaned back. “My family has always been opposed to slavery.”
“I thought so,” Therese said. “But you were so convincing.”
“Besides, I couldn’t be your father’s student without believing in the abolitionist movement.”
“But he didn’t teach that. He would have been fired.”
“He didn’t teach it explicitly, but he taught us that God created humankind in His image. In history class he included the history of slavery back to the ancients and through to the present.” Michael began rocking. “He didn’t condone any of it, but the difference between then and now was that ours was based entirely on the color of a person’s skin. He taught us to respect all people.”
Therese swiped at a tear. That invisible thread between them was no longer in a tangle at her feet. Michael still was who he had been.
“He taught us to be empathetic. To turn the other cheek. To walk a mile in another person’s shoes.”
More tears trickled down Therese’s face.
Michael stopped rocking. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very thoughtful of me—to speak about your father.”
“No, it was.” She swiped at the tears with both hands.
“You should have gone with Alec. Your life would be so much easier.”
She shook her head. “You asked me why I didn’t. Do you remember?”
“The day Richmond fell?”
“Yes, and I didn’t answer, not directly. My priorities were to convince Mother to free Aggie and Badan, and to keep my promise to Father to care for Mother. But in making both of those things happen, I realized I didn’t love Alec. At first I thought I did, but then…”
He leaned forward again. “What are you saying, Therese?”
She met his gaze. “You had a sweetheart in France. You planned to go back after the war.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Polly said you brought home a porcelain box for your sweetheart. In France.”
His brow furrowed. “A sweetheart?”
She nodded, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. “Polly saw… you had photographs. Of the two of you.”
He stared at her blankly until she added, “She said the young woman in the pictures was quite beautiful.”
Michael thought for another moment, and then to her surprise he burst into a laugh. “Eugenie? Are you kidding me? Oh, Therese. No. I’m so sorry. Shame on my sister for poking through my things. She completely misunderstood.”
“She did?”
He nodded, his expression growing more serious as he looked into Therese’s eyes.
“Those were advertisement photos to be used as samples of a new type of photographic paper my cousin and I were developing in France. The young woman was a paid model, and she was indeed quite beaut
iful, but she was a nightmare from beginning to end. The man we’d hired to pose with her didn’t show, so they wrangled me into taking his place. The woman was nearly impossible to work with. The only reason I brought the pictures home was to show my father the new paper. It’s based on some of the ideas of Henry Fox Talbot, one of our English cousins who’s become rather famous for his work in photography. The paper uses a gelatine coating treated with potassium dichromate, and, well…” His voice trailed off as he gave her a sheepish smile. “You don’t need to hear about all that right now. The important thing is that I met the woman, worked with the woman, couldn’t stand the woman, and never saw the woman again. So much for my French sweetheart.”
Therese sighed, wishing she had known that from the very beginning.
“I hoped you would be my sweetheart,” he continued. “I know we were young when I left Virginia, but I never stopped thinking of you while I was in France. I bought the box for you the week before I left, while I was in Paris, and I wanted to give it to you that very first day I saw you after I returned.” He pointed toward the front of the house. “Right there.”
Therese’s heart began to race. So much had been different than what she’d assumed. “But then my mother said those horrid things.”
Michael grimaced. “It wasn’t just that. It was bad timing on my part, truly. Your grandfather had just died.” He sighed. “I’d spoken to your father about you before I left for France. He asked me not to say anything or even to stay in touch with you, for that matter, because he wanted you to focus on your studies. But he said if I felt the same way when I returned, I should speak to him, and he would give me his blessing.”
Tears stung Therese’s eyes. If only she’d known that too.
“I was so anxious to say what I’d rehearsed all those years that I rushed ahead, hoping I could say it to your mother when I should have waited.”
He reached down into the leather haversack he always carried with him and pulled out a package wrapped in layers of paper. He began to unpeel them, one by one as he spoke, placing each piece of paper on the ground beside the chair. “I knew I’d offended your mother and figured it would take time for me to win her favor. I intended to, first chance I got, when I went off to join the 1st Infantry and you went to Richmond. But Alec let me know early on he was interested in you. He talked about how smart and caring you were, not to mention beautiful.” He smiled. “I saw the way he looked at you.”
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