His gaze was intent on her face. “Then he’s a fool who doesn’t deserve you.”
Emily had promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She had spent her tears the night before, but Daniel’s kindness drilled into a whole new reservoir. “I came to tell you that I can’t stay. I’ll be leaving Baltimore after graduation.”
His mouth tugged downward. “May I ask you to reconsider?”
She shook her head. “I need time, Daniel. To grieve. To figure out a future without him. And I can’t do it here, where every street on the map is a painful reminder.”
“I understand.” His eyes were compassionate and sad. “If you return, my studio will always be open to you.”
“No, Daniel. You mustn’t tie yourself to me. Working with you has been an absolute pleasure, but I cannot make you any promises. You must do what’s right for yourself. Someday, when you find a woman who loves you with all of her heart, you’ll be free to love her with all of yours.” She looked down at her hands clasped on the table before her. “For both of those reasons, my answer to your proposal must be no.”
He sighed, a soft whisper of regret. So different from the screaming pain of her own splintered heart. “You will stay to graduate?”
“Yes.” Without Jovie, her photography certificate gained a great deal of significance. It might be the only thing she had to hold onto when she grew old.
“Then will you continue to work here until the end of the term?”
She smiled regretfully. “It would be an honor.”
***
Somehow, the final four weeks of the school term rolled past. Each morning Emily rose with the hope that Jovie might seek her out, that it was all some horrible mistake; each evening she retired with her heart broken anew. During every free hour in between, she kept her thoughts focused strictly on school. Her diligence paid off. She graduated with honors.
The night of the ceremony, Missouri, Grace, the twins, Daniel, Jeremiah, Sarah, and Mr. Heatherstone were all in attendance. She could see them from the stage, lined up in the front like a row of candy jars on a store shelf. It was the most triumphant moment of her life—the intense satisfaction of receiving what she’d worked for, the pleasure of realizing a lifelong dream, and the pride of sharing it with those she loved.
But it all fell flat without the twinkle of approval in a pair of laughing green eyes.
Afterward, Mrs. Calkins allowed her a quiet reception at the boardinghouse, where Jeremiah sought her out. “Congratulations, little sister,” he said, wrapping her in a tremendous hug.
“Did you see me?”
He beamed. “I sure did.”
“How’s married life?”
Sarah joined them then, and he drew her close, planting a kiss on her temple. “I think I’m the happiest man in the world.”
“Have you found a job?” Other than a single, cheerful letter, she’d left the newlyweds completely to themselves while she finished school.
“Jeremiah workin’ in a hotel laundry,” Sarah said, looking up at him proudly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, giving him a playful shove.
“I tried to write,” Sarah said, “but Jeremiah want to tell you hisself.”
He laughed. “With the money Sarah’s making cleaning houses, I figure we can get out of the boardinghouse in a year or two and afford a little place of our own.”
“I am so happy for you.”
They made small talk until Sarah left to help Missouri serve cake and coffee. Then Jeremiah asked, “What’s this I hear about you leaving?”
“Did Missouri tell you?”
“She said I best go speak with you.”
Emily sighed. “I found Jovie. The day after your wedding. He sent me away.”
“What?” Jeremiah roared. Several heads turned in their direction. Jeremiah ducked out the front door with Emily in tow. “What do you mean he sent you away? That boy’s been heels over head in love with you for as long as I can remember.”
“Not anymore, apparently.”
He brooded over this, crossing his arms against his chest. “And that’s why you’re leaving?”
“How can I stay?”
He nodded, still deep in thought. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve written to Uncle Isaac. I haven’t been there in six years. And I want to see Lizzie.”
“You staying there?”
“For a while. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go visit Uncle Timothy.” She’d found peace there when Jack died, after Thad broke her heart.
“Promise you’ll keep in touch.”
“Of course I will.”
He hugged her again. “Emily, I’m so sorry things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to.”
“Yes, well, not everyone gets a fairy-tale ending.”
***
The next morning, Missouri accompanied Emily to the station. They’d already said their good-byes, but Emily was thankful for her presence. When her trunks were loaded and the call to board had been given, Emily stood on the platform facing her roommate.
“Why is it you’re always leaving?” Missouri complained. “It’s hard on a person, you know.”
Oh, how Emily knew. “Baltimore’s only ever been a stopover.”
“I know. Schooling and then the big blue world beyond, right? You’ve always had more ambition than me.”
Emily snorted. “This is coming from the woman who raised three brothers, buried a husband, moved cross-country, and is now working to purchase her own boardinghouse.”
Missouri shrugged. “Big necessities. Small dreams.”
“All aboard!” came the conductor’s warning.
Emily embraced her friend one last time. “When you purchase your boardinghouse, I’ll come for a week as your first paying customer.”
“Deal.” Missouri squeezed her with all the strength of the frontier. “And if I run into Jovie Cutler, I’ll give him a good kick in the tail.”
Emily’s laugh came out as a hiccup.
A hiss of steam hurried her onto the train. The cars jolted, she waved a final farewell, and Baltimore faded into her past.
26
The cinnamon bricks of the Detroit railway station were a little dingier than Emily remembered, but the platform was far, far brighter, awash with the figures of Uncle Isaac, Aunt Shannon, and their four children. Isaac’s hair, a little grayer at the temples, curled over his forehead in the same careless style, and his hug felt exactly the same. “My favorite niece!” he boomed over the clatter of disembarking passengers.
“Your only niece,” she returned as she always had, even though he’d married into a slew of them.
He held her out at arm’s length. “Certainly my most beautiful, grownup niece. And a Milford through and through, I’ll add.”
Emily laughed. “It’s good to see you, Uncle Isaac.”
Shannon’s embrace was warm and gentle. “I’m so pleased you were able to come. The children have been excited for your arrival.”
“You must introduce us.”
Shannon called over two little girls with blue eyes and braids colored the same vibrant shade of red. “This is Emily Rose,” she said, indicating the taller one, “and this is Kaitlyn. Little Kaity, we call her.”
Emily knelt on one knee. “Hello, Kaity and Emily Rose. Did you know that my name is Emily, too?”
The little girls both nodded their heads solemnly.
“How old are you, Emily Rose?”
“Five.”
“And you, Kaity?”
The child held up three pudgy fingers.
“Both such big girls. I think we’re going to be very good friends.”
“This little spitfire,” Isaac said, towing an energetic blond toddler, “is their brother Aidan.”
“And this is Alma,” Shannon said, holding up a chubby, sleeping baby.
Emily raised her eyebrows dramatically. “I think the hotel is going to be a far busier place than I remember.”
“You g
uessed right.” Isaac swung the toddler to his shoulders. “Come on, Little Man. Let’s get Cousin Emily’s trunks loaded into the carriage before we frighten her off.”
“’Bye!” Aidan called as he bounced away.
Emily laughed. “They’re all adorable, Shannon.”
Her aunt nodded toward the depot. “There’s one more person here to greet you.”
A colored man stepped away from the wall. He was taller and broader than she remembered, with hair cropped closer to his head. But when he smiled, she knew him instantly. “Malachi!”
He laughed as they embraced. “Look at you all grown up.”
“And you! Why, I think you’ve grown a foot!”
“I hear you are an official, certificate-holding photographer.”
“That would be correct, doctor. How is your research going?” The last time he’d written, he and Dr. Ferguson had embarked on a study of bacteria, based on the writings of John Snow and Louis Pasteur.
“Absolutely fascinating.” He grinned, looking her up and down. “We’ve both come some distance since the last time we laid eyes on each other, haven’t we?”
She laughed. “I’d say we have.”
Malachi walked beside her as they followed Shannon and the children to the carriage. “Are you still living at the hotel?” she asked.
“With that bunch?” he joked. “No, after Alma was born, Little Man took over my room. I’m boarding with Dr. Ferguson.”
“Where you can actually study?”
“Exactly.”
“I understand I’m bunking with the girls.”
“Enjoy them, Emily. Take some time off. You’ll find your direction.”
The ride to the River Street Inn was crowded and merry. Julia, Malachi’s mother and the very capable hotel cook, awaited Emily in the kitchen with a sandwich and a glass of milk. She greeted her with a deep-throated chuckle and yet another snug embrace. “Lawd, chil’. Look at you!”
Emily returned the gesture with affection. This was the woman whose challenge, made with the flick of a paring knife and a single drop of blood, had thrust her onto a spiritual and intellectual journey that had radically altered her life. In a way, Emily felt that by stepping back into this kitchen, she had come full circle. “It’s wonderful to see you, Julia.”
“I make Malachi an’ Isaac read me all yo’ letters.” She squeezed Emily’s arm. “I be right proud of you, chil’.”
The rest of the family gathered around the worn old table as Emily ate her late lunch. Dinner was always a formal affair, taken in the dining room with the guests, but she’d always preferred the kitchen. It held precious memories of warm, private moments, hard lessons learned, and so many cozy evenings spent knitting, reading, and talking around the stove. Though with four additional bodies, she had to admit it felt a little cramped.
Isaac’s children lent the hotel a whole different flavor. Despite her fatigue, she and “Uncle Malachi” got right down on the lobby rug with them, dressing dolls, reading books, and playing games for much of the afternoon. By dinnertime, the children had lost all their shyness and were convinced that “Cousin Em’ly” had come just to play with them.
That evening, except for a single female guest still reading beside the lobby fire, Emily found herself alone with Uncle Isaac. Her eyes were growing heavy, hypnotized by the flicker of the fireplace, when he shifted to extend his legs toward the flames. “I assume you’re going to want me to take you over the river to see Lizzie one of these days.”
She snapped to attention. “Oh, would you?”
“Tell you what. Ketch has a new stove on order for Christmas. It’s due on Friday’s steamer, and I promised I’d deliver it. Would you like to ride along?”
She sank back against the couch in mock dismay. “Four more whole days?”
Isaac smiled. “It was a decent thing you did for them.”
“I learned from the best.” It was Isaac who had provided her first experience helping runaways.
The woman closed her book, yawned, and rose. “I believe I’ll turn in and leave you two to your conversation. Good night, Mr. Milford.”
Isaac stood respectfully as she rose. “Sleep well, Mrs. Steinbeck.”
Isaac’s family had several rooms that were off-limits to guests, but Emily hadn’t yet readjusted to the constant presence of strangers in the lobby, the building’s main living space.
“Have there been others like Lizzie?” Isaac asked when he’d settled again.
“Not many since the port closed, though I recently brought a few through to Union territory along the seacoast.” She’d save those specifics for another day.
Isaac rested his elbows on his knees and held his hands toward the crackling logs. “It sounds like Union holdings will be vastly expanded soon. Have you heard what Sherman’s up to?”
She shook her head. The only news she’d read for months was a blurb about Lincoln’s reelection.
“You knew he took Atlanta?”
“Two months ago.”
“Well, he’s now marching toward Savannah with the sole purpose of destroying everything in his path—railroads, telegraph lines, industry, homes, livestock. There’s no one to stand against him.”
There were three hundred miles between Atlanta and Savannah. Emily pinched her eyes shut, imagining such a grand scale of sorrow and loss. “It’s almost over, isn’t it?”
He didn’t even need to answer. She could read the ending in the flames. The Confederacy was a grand old lady clinging desperately to the glories of her past. But her strength was winding down, her life force nearly stilled. The South had reached its own ebb tide.
“Are my parents in danger?”
He hesitated. “Not immediately.”
Ella Wood wasn’t in Sherman’s path, but no one could guess where the general would turn next. And Charleston seemed a likely target.
She was seized by a sudden desperation. The day she had dreaded for so long was nearly upon her. She could see it now as clearly as if she were peering into a crystal ball. “I should go home.”
“Don’t even consider it.”
His tone had turned sharply authoritative, as if she were a child and still in his charge. Her spine stiffened. “My parents are going to need me.”
He sighed and seemed to recognize that his old methods wouldn’t work on her anymore. “They will need you more when this is all over. Right now, your safety is their sole comfort. Don’t steal that from them.”
She gnawed on her lip. Her mother had twice written the same sentiments.
“Promise me you won’t run off,” he persisted.
Her shoulders sagged. The thought of troops overrunning Ella Wood horrified her, but she would honor her parents’ wishes. With a devastating sense of helplessness, she relented. “I promise.”
“Good girl.” He slipped an arm behind her and squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Until this is over, you’re right where you belong.”
***
Isaac drove the farm wagon Emily had once despised, but today she could have ridden a garbage scow and wouldn’t have minded. She was on her way to see one of her oldest, dearest friends.
The trip—including the river crossing—took barely an hour. Ketch and Lizzie had settled in Sandwich Township, not far from the Detroit River, which had a long history of receiving slave fugitives. A light dusting of snow sugared the low, flat landscape, but Emily noticed neither the beauty nor the cold. She was bouncing with impatience by the time Isaac turned into a drive leading to a snug frame house set at the edge of a cleared field. Standing to her feet, she began shouting Lizzie’s name.
Lizzie, her belly heavy with child, stepped out the door and squealed in disbelief. Emily leaped from the wagon before it had stopped rolling and scrambled for the house at top speed. The women collided, rocking together in a tangle of arms and emotion.
“Lan’ sakes! Emily, what you be doin’ here?”
“Isaac didn’t tell you I was coming?”
Lizzie glared at Isaac, who sat chuckling in the wagon. “No, he did not.”
“I just graduated. I’m staying at the hotel indefinitely.”
Lizzie squealed again, and the rocking and embracing continued until her husband forcibly moved them so he could pass through the door.
“Hello, Ketch.” Emily let go of Lizzie and shook the big man’s hand.
“Mornin’, Miss Emily. It mighty fine to see you. I best help Mr. Isaac until you two regain some sense.”
Both women laughed. Then Lizzie held open the door. “Come in an’ greet de children. Robin, you remember Miss Emily?”
The child played on the floor with a big black dog. At his mother’s call, Robin rose and approached Emily with wide, sober eyes. He’d had grown, but he couldn’t be more than six or seven years old. Emily doubted he had any recollection of her whatsoever. But he nodded, and his face broke into a cherubic smile.
She rested a hand on his head. “You remember me, Robin?”
“Yes, miss. Me and Lark pray fo’ you mos’ every night.”
Emily looked from the child to Lizzie with moist, bright eyes.
“Dat’s so,” Lizzie said, pushing forward a toddler with fuzzy black hair and light brown skin. “Though Larkin, here, don’ rightly know what he prayin’ fo’ yet.”
Emily took in the snug home, the healthy children, Lizzie’s beaming face. She bent down to the boys’ level. “I’ve prayed for both of you, too, and I can see those prayers have been answered.”
“Why don’ you boys take Daisy outside to play?” Lizzie said, nudging the dog and the children toward the door. “An’ I’ll make cornbread and syrup fo’ lunch.”
Robin let out a cheer that was immediately echoed by his little brother, and Lizzie led Emily toward the kitchen table. “Sit down an’ tell me what you been doin’.”
“Just finishing school and working.”
“An’ you got yo’ certificate? You official?”
Emily laughed. “I can work in any photography studio that’s hiring, and I intend to start looking immediately.”
“An’ Jeremiah?”
“He’s well. You remember Sarah from Fairview?” Emily had never written her the details of their harrowing escape.
Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3) Page 28