“You do know that slavery was outlawed in the District, even if it’s still legal in the rest of the state.”
“One city jus’ ain’t big enough fo’ me, miss.”
Emily laughed. “Then you can ride the train with me as far as Baltimore. The state line is only another twenty-five miles.”
Apollo had three weeks’ wages in his pocket, youth, health, and ambition. She had no doubt of his success. “I never thanked you for carrying me to the doctors in Port Royal.”
“Miss Emily, we more’n square.”
She leaned her hip against the rail and watched the coastline crawl past. Silence stretched between them, warm and relaxed and tinged with melancholy. The road from Ella Wood had been long and difficult; she and Apollo had needed each other. Now their paths were about to diverge. But her wistfulness was as fleeting as mist. They both had bright futures to anticipate. She laughed aloud, just for the joy of it. How good it felt!
Within days the ship passed through the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. In two more they were making port in the Potomac River. Emily had brought very few belongings away with her. Only the skirt and shirtwaist made for her by Trudy, which she wore, the mud-stained change of clothing, Aunt Margaret’s pearls, and a few odds and ends. As she attempted to repack these in her valise one-handedly, Solomon sought her out. “Miss Preston, will you allow me to escort you to Baltimore?”
Emily turned to find him watching her from the open door of her cabin. “Thank you, but there’s no need. Apollo will be accompanying me.”
“I insist. I’ll feel much better seeing to your safety myself.”
“Very well then. If you’re sure it’s no inconvenience.”
“Grant me twenty minutes to deliver a dispatch and my obligations will be at an end. I’m not due back to Washington until Monday morning.”
Docking took only moments. Emily bid farewell to the captain and stepped carefully down the gangplank and past the wharves piled high with crates and barrels and bales of cotton and tobacco. Solomon guided them to the business district where he left them to shop for Apollo’s new clothes, promising a quick return.
Apollo’s eyes grew round as onion bulbs at the bustling street and its shops laden with merchandise. “Miss Emily, I never heard of a place so grand.”
Even Emily, who had experienced the North before, found it a startling contrast to home. The scene was one of affluence and plenty, something South Carolina’s cities hadn’t known for a very long time.
They browsed unhurriedly through several shops. Emily replaced her sad and battered bonnet. Apollo picked out a modest suit, a bowler hat, and a few additional items of clothing. Donning their purchases, they stepped smartly out onto the street and made their way to the railway station. Solomon wasn’t long in joining them. Within an hour and a half of their arrival, a train was carrying them swiftly and smoothly toward Baltimore.
They pulled into Camden Station, and Emily’s heart thumped hard at the sight of the familiar cityscape. As difficult as her year in Baltimore had been, returning felt like stepping back into a dream. She skipped out the door and onto the platform, catching a porter, a newspaperman, and a fellow passenger in the radiant beam of her smile.
Apollo cleared his throat. “I guess dis be where we say good-bye, Miss Emily.”
“Of course it isn’t.” She clutched his arm. “You have to come with me to Mr. Heatherstone’s.”
“Mr. Heatherstone?” His brow puckered.
“He’s the Quaker man who let me and Jeremiah use his kitchen for our reading lessons. He also sent me the news that Jovie’s alive. He’ll be able to direct you to Pennsylvania and me to Jovie!”
“Perhaps we should purchase something to eat first,” Solomon suggested. “It’s well past lunchtime.”
“Oh, Mr. Beatty, I couldn’t possibly eat now!” She trotted off in the direction of the meetinghouse.
The distance wasn’t far, and Emily chattered like a magpie the entire way, pointing out sights made familiar to her from her daily walks around the city. When the Quaker’s modest home came into view, she lifted the hem of her dress and ran the last twenty yards.
“Mr. Heatherstone!” she called while still on his path. “Mr. Heatherstone, it’s Emily Preston!” She fell on the door, pounding insistently at the wood. “Mr. Heatherstone!”
It opened almost instantly. “Goodness gracious, Miss Preston, thee will have all the neighbors looking out their windows.”
He was tall and stern-looking, with forbidding eyes beneath a broad brow, but Emily laughed at his admonition. “I don’t care!” she exclaimed, embracing him enthusiastically with her good arm. “Mr. Heatherstone, it’s so very good to see you!”
After his initial surprise, he patted her fondly on the back. “And you, child. I feared thee wouldn’t be able to come.”
“Where is he?” she asked. “Where is Jovie? Is he well? Is he expecting me?”
“I think thee best come inside before I answer. But first, who are thy companions?”
“Oh, I’m sorry! Mr. Heatherstone, these are Mr. Solomon Beatty and Apollo. We’ve just arrived on the train from Washington.”
The men each nodded a greeting.
Mr. Heatherstone stepped aside. “Please, come in. Have thee eaten thy midday meal? I have bread and cheese and the remnants of a date cake.”
“As a matter of fact, we have not eaten yet,” Solomon said with a mildly accusatory glance at Emily. “Someone was in too great a hurry to pause for food.”
Mr. Heatherstone chuckled and led them into the familiar kitchen. Placing the teakettle on the stove, he gathered the ingredients for the simple meal and joined them at the table.
Emily fidgeted on her chair like a child at the end of the school day, barely nibbling at a slice of cake. “Please, Mr. Heatherstone. Tell me where I can find Jovie. I’m ever so anxious to find him.”
The old man’s eyes softened with pity. “I apologize if my letter gave thee the impression that I have additional knowledge of thy friend, Miss Preston. I know only that Jeremiah came here in quite the same state of excitement in which I find thee and asked me to write thee a letter.”
Emily felt the breathless fear of tottering on the brink of a cliff. “You don’t know where he is?”
“No, miss. I do not.”
The admission drove her breath clean away.
Solomon gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “But he was seen in the city, was he not?”
“That is correct. Jeremiah said he was driving a team near the President’s Street Station, not far from the waterfront. It was a dray—some sort of delivery vehicle. Jeremiah said he shouted thy friend’s name. Thy friend looked up at the summons but then turned away and continued driving.”
“He was certain it was Jovie.” It wasn’t a question but a forceful insistence that it be true.
“He was quite adamant.”
“Then why didn’t he go after him?”
The stern features held compassion. “He had military duties he could not abandon, child. It was late in the day before he was granted permission to come tell me.”
“When was this?” Solomon asked.
Mr. Heatherstone appeared thoughtful. “There was still snow on the ground. Perhaps early March.”
“Only a few months. He’s likely still here, Miss Preston.”
The teakettle whistled, and Mr. Heatherstone rose to pour a cup for each of his guests.
Apollo had followed the conversation sympathetically. Now he spoke for the first time. “You can’t give up, Miss Emily. Think what we went through to get here. You jus’ gotta go look for him.”
“He’s right, my dear,” Mr. Heatherstone said. “Thee mustn’t get discouraged. Locating thy young man will simply take a little longer than thee anticipated.”
The unexpected disappointment had stolen the joy from her return. Time was exactly what she wanted to recover. She had already expended so much of it. Now just finding Jovie would claim even more.
“Wha
t will you do, Miss Preston?” Solomon asked.
She sighed. She had only one course forward. “I’ll see if Mrs. Calkins has any rooms available. I need to reclaim the belongings she is holding for me anyway.” She forced herself out of her state of discouragement to introduce the second item of business. “Mr. Heatherstone, Apollo is one of my father’s slaves who is seeking freedom in Pennsylvania. I thought he might benefit from your acquaintance.”
“Up to thy old tricks again, are thee?” he asked with a sly gleam in his smile.
Emily caught her hands together in her lap. “My father sent Apollo along with me for my own safety, which he saw to admirably. I am still under obligation to my father, but you are not.”
His face lifted with understanding. “Ah, thee wish me to defraud thy father of his property so thee might remain blameless. Is this so?”
He had stated her dilemma exactly. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Miss Preston, I cannot accept thy request under these conditions. Thou faces a choice between honoring thy father and setting a man free. Thee must determine the better one for thyself.”
She chewed her lip, her conscience warring within her, as she came to realize this was a fence she’d never be able to straddle. The differences between herself and her father still stood like a mountain between them. But she’d had to see the summit before her choice became obvious, even if it meant breaking her rash promise to her mother.
She looked directly into Apollo’s eyes even as she addressed Mr. Heatherstone. “Then I accept full responsibility. What’s the safest route to Pennsylvania?”
***
After a lengthy discussion in Mr. Heatherstone’s kitchen, Solomon left Emily in front of Mrs. Calkins’ door. “Shall I wait to see if she has a room available?” he asked. “I’ll gladly see you to a hotel if she does not.”
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’m among friends here.”
“Very well. I’ll return in the morning to help you start looking for Mr. Cutler.”
She was touched by his genuine concern. “I deeply appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Mr. Beatty.”
“It’s been my pleasure.”
Emily didn’t bother knocking, and her sudden appearance interrupted the evening meal. She backed out of the dining room. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Calkins. I’ll wait for you in the—”
She was interrupted by a wild squeal and charged by a young woman with unruly black hair who nearly knocked off her feet. “Emily Preston, you scoundrel! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
Emily giggled and returned Missouri’s hug one-handed. “I didn’t take the time to write! I just boarded a train.”
“What happened to your arm?”
“It was—ah—injured en route.” She’d explain more fully when they didn’t have an audience.
A diminutive lady with a meticulous bun of blue hair rose from the table. “Ladies,” she admonished, though there was a twinkle in her eye. “Dinner manners, please.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Calkins.” Missouri curtsied. “Please excuse me. I believe I’m quite finished.”
Emily also began an apology, but she was dragged away before she could complete it.
“Tell me what you’re doing here,” Missouri demanded once they reached the parlor. “You’re two weeks late for the start of the summer term.”
“I didn’t come for class.” The thrill of Jovie’s discovery revived, ripping out in a new burst of excitement. “Missouri, Jovie’s alive! He’s somewhere here in Baltimore!”
Missouri shrieked again, eliciting another reprimand from the dining room. “Sorry, Mrs. Calkins!” She pulled Emily out the front door, planted her in one of the porch chairs, and pulled the second one up close. “Tell me everything!”
Emily’s incoherent rush of explanation took several questions to sort out and was liberally punctuated by squeals. “So he’s here? We just have to find him?” Missouri concluded. “Let’s go search the waterfront!”
Emily laughed, her confidence restored. “I walked past it on my way here and didn’t see him. But first thing in the morning I’ll start again.”
“Someone will know where he is. You’ll see.” Missouri enfolded Emily in another embrace. “Come inside and meet the girls.”
The meal had just ended and the young ladies were exiting the dining room when they returned. Emily was embraced by a graceful young woman with an engaging smile and a mild drawl. “It’s good to see you again, Emily.”
“Grace! Are you still teaching school?”
“Where else would I be?”
“I thought some young man had certainly swept you off your feet by now.”
“I’m afraid I don’t frequent too many places where they could find me.”
“You can say that again.” Missouri rolled her eyes. “I vow, she’s going to produce the next Galileo for all the time she spends in her room preparing lessons.”
Grace laughed. “Which is where I’m going right now. I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Every day is a big day,” Missouri said in a loud whisper.
Grace slapped her playfully. “Emily, it is lovely to see you.”
Missouri then introduced her to a pair of girls who looked exactly alike. “Emily Preston, these are Clara and Cora Dane. They attend the Maryland Institute.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” both twins said at once, which sent them into fits of laughter. They were young, perhaps sixteen.
“What are you studying?” Emily asked.
“Music,” they answered together, to another round of giggles.
Missouri intervened. “Clara plays the violin and Cora the harpsichord.”
On closer scrutiny, one sister was slightly taller; the other had darker hair and a narrower face. But they looked so alike that Emily knew it would take time before she could put each name to the correct twin. “Would you play for me sometime?”
They agreed and went off to the parlor, heads together, arm in arm.
“They’re quite a pair,” Emily said with mild amusement.
“Always together,” Missouri agreed. “And this is my roommate, Violet Belcher. She works with me cleaning Mr. Portman’s house.”
Emily turned to greet a woman in her early twenties. Long-nosed, thin-lipped, and angular, her face was as unfortunate as her name. Violet’s smile was a sneer, her greeting clipped. She excused herself immediately and settled on the parlor sofa with a novel.
“She lost her pa at Champion Hill,” Missouri explained. “She’s got no love for the South, but she won’t give you any trouble. Likes to keep to herself.”
Emily was counting the residents in her head. “If Grace still keeps her own room, and you share a room with Miss Belcher, and the sisters share another, could the fourth room still be open…?”
Missouri grinned and linked elbows with her. “Since the end of the last term. Shall we go find Mrs. Calkins?”
***
The next morning Solomon showed up at the door as promised, just as the others were leaving. Emily brought a handful of sketches and together they approached the waterfront. If Jovie had been making deliveries to this area, surely someone would recognize him.
The wharf was swarming with activity, piled high with outgoing tobacco, wheat, iron, and cotton. Emily jumped in with no plan, confident she’d soon have the information she wanted. She showed the sketch to half a dozen dockhands, whose rough appearance now made her doubly glad for Solomon’s company.
Some of them blew her off with a rude, “Make way!” Others gave the page a cursory glance and a shake of the head. A few were genuinely helpful.
“Sorry, miss,” one said with an apologetic squint to his eyes. “I ain’t seen him. But if he’s a driver, as you said, you could check with Buster’s. They handle most of our haulin’.”
By the time the sun reached its zenith, they had accumulated the names of several dray companies, but no one had recognized Jovie.
The morning’s exertion had sent tendrils
of discomfort into Emily’s shoulder. Solomon made her sit down at a little café two streets from the river until the pain eased. “We’ll find him,” he assured her, biting cheerfully into a sandwich. “If he’s still in the area, we’ll find him.”
It was the possibility that he’d moved on that worried her.
Over the next two days, they developed a method to systematically canvass the waterfront instead of Emily’s original hit-or-miss attempts. And they visited every delivery business on their list. The following day was Sunday, and after services at the Lutheran church, they spent a few more hours walking aimlessly through the dockside district, hoping against hope that they might get lucky.
Throughout the week, Emily had noticed several ships loading unusual quantities of cotton, more than she ever recalled seeing in the city before. She remembered Washington also had the commodity stacked on its docks. “Has Maryland begun producing the cotton needed by Northern mills?” she asked. The profits would be astronomical with the blockade still in effect.
“This?” he asked, gesturing to the mountain of bales. “It’s mostly Southern.”
“But how did it get here?”
“Overland.”
She paused to consider the pile. No attempt was being made to hide it. “Is it sanctioned?”
“Lincoln issued a number of permits to Northern traders. They passed through the lines frequently when I was stationed up here.”
“The permits must be worth a fortune.”
“Most of them belong to Lincoln’s friends,” he said with a hint of cynicism.
“You’re not a Lincoln supporter?” She’d heard a few references to the Northern president’s reelection campaign in Port Royal. Most were in his favor.
“I don’t want to switch horses midstream, so to speak. But this sort of thing has lost him some credibility.”
“I thought he was quite popular.”
“He was, following Vicksburg and Gettysburg. But that was over a year ago, and Grant’s latest campaign has cost him. He’ll need a victory or two in his pocket if he wants to win the people over.”
Emily bit her lip. A victory or two that would come at her expense.
Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3) Page 21