by Denise Daisy
Chapter 30
Lunar refuses to ride in the lumber wagon, so with the aid of his brothers, he walks back home. The darn lump in my throat swells bigger by the minute. We skirt past the mansion and continue down a dirt road, following it as it narrows and disappears into a grove of trees. The rustic smell of autumn is replaced by a foul stench riding on the breeze and wafting around us like the falling leaves. We step into a clearing, and I see the reason for the odor. Flies swarm around the raw sewage, snaking across the desolate property in murky streams, decomposing in the morning sun. My eyes water, and I hold my breath to keep from gagging.
Dozens of tiny wooden hovels occupy the small area. All are weathered and most are standing at a slant. One swift gust of wind, and I imagine the dilapidated shacks tumbling like a house of cards.
Several have no doors; the only protection from the wind and rain is a piece of burlap hung over the threshold. The breeze causes the rough fabric to billow, revealing the interior of the slave quarters. I gasp, taken aback. Holes in the roof allow the rain inside, muddying the floor, making the shacks more of a pigsty than a home fit for human habitation. I see no beds, no furniture. Only piles of straw and threadbare blankets cover dirt floors. I shake my head in disgust, but it’s not the rancid muck that repulses me as much as the atrocious conditions these people are forced to live in. But then again, they’re not living, they’re simply surviving. If I could, I’d transport every one of them back to my time and set them all free from this coldhearted existence.
Lunar doesn’t have a home of his own to go to, no comfortable private room with a bed to lie in and heal from his undeserved beating. He will more than likely find a soft patch of clover somewhere and rest until he’s ordered back to work, which will be as soon as he’s able to stand without teetering over.
How can Lunar heal in a place like this? The grime alone will infect his wounds. I shake my head and look at Emily. I break the long, forlorn silence. “Can we slip him in through the carriage house and let him use one of the secret rooms?”
Emily smiles softly and nods. “It’s what I am thinking, too. Jeb, let’s take Lunar to a safe room for now.”
“It’s broad daylight, Miss Emily, you know that.” Jeb’s apprehensions are reasonable, seeing he was forced to stand by and watch his brother get beat to a pulp and could do nothing to help him.
“Don’t you worry about anything, Jeb,” Emily consoles him. She nudges me with a certain determination carved on her face. I smile back, and my heart warms. I like Miss Emily Faulkner. My lump gets bigger.
Since Mike is the only one who came through the fight unscathed, he volunteers to scout ahead and give us the all clear, so we know when it’s safe to sneak Lunar in through the carriage house. Since James Faulkner was in town earlier, none of us are sure whether or not he headed home after the public accusations against his family. If so, he could very well be in the carriage house about now. We head back to the mansion and take our rest just past a line of trees that borders the driveway leading up to the house. The blanket of gray moss that hangs thick provides us with excellent cover. Within a few minutes, Mike whistles, giving us the all clear. We dart from behind the foliage and into safety. Jeb and the boys hand Lunar over to Quillan and Mike. The five of us take to the passageway.
Lunar doesn’t look too good, but at least he’s coherent and resting comfortably on the feather bed. Emily sits beside him, cleaning him up and dabbing ointment on his wounds. I can tell she’s worried. Who wouldn’t be? She can’t even send for a doctor. I, however, might fit the bill. I’ve sat around the apartment the past few months waiting for momma to show up and watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to perform surgery if need be. I walk over to the bed and take his pulse. It’s superslow, but that’s normal since he is in optimum shape. His breathing is steady. That’s good. I check his eyes to see if his pupils react to light. They do.
“Who’s the president?” I ask, hoping slaves are privy to such information; otherwise my test question is worthless.
“James Buchanan,” he mumbles.
“Good,” I say. “What day is it?”
“Saturday… Why you asking me questions you should already know? Did they hit you in the head, too?”
We laugh. Even Lunar snickers before he grimaces in pain.
“He’s fine,” I assure Emily who’s smiling at me through her tears.
“Emily!” James Faulkner’s voice booms throughout the mansion, bonging louder than the old grandfather clock.
Emily’s smile fades, and I watch her eyes widen in fear. The bookcase door slides open. Pearl appears in a panic. “Miss Emily, your daddy done be lookin’ everywhere for you. You better go to him before he come snoopin’ up here on the third floor!”
Emily pales even more than she already is. “Oh, dear God, Averie.” She directs her panic at me. “What am I to do?”
Great, we’re a week away from bedlam, all hell is breaking loose, and she is asking me, off-the-cuff, what to do. I’m trapped. The room is closing in, like a noose around my neck. I’m terrified I’ll say the wrong thing and give her bad advice. What if Lunar hangs, Emily commits suicide, and Quillan never gets his life because I couldn’t come up with an idea? Then again, why beat myself up? This is Quillan’s operation, and he admittedly came here without a plan, so why should I stress? I look over at him, and he is staring at me as if my words will be the life breathed into his soul. I swallow hard, gasping for air myself. I know why I care. I care because I love the people in this room. They’re not unfeeling characters of an eerie legend or lifeless portraits in my black history books. They’re not babies who never made it. They’re my friends, and they have impacted my life, changing me for the better. I close my eyes and think, and when I do, I can see my momma. Her presence is almost tangible, as if she’s standing right beside me in this room.
“Averie.” I hear momma’s sweet voice. “Honey, just tell the truth. It’s the one thing that will set everyone free.” I wipe the tear that has fallen from my cheek. Opening my eyes, I look at Emily straight on. “It’s your Judgment Day, Emily. Time to tell the truth.”
She nods. “I’m scared, Averie.”
I brush away another tear. “Me, too, Emily. Remember, there is no fear in love.”
“I hope Daddy loves me enough.”
“Oh, I think he does,” I reassure her. At least, I hope he does. My daddy disappointed me, but I’m not going to think that way right now.
“Will you come with me?” she asks.
“Of course, I will,” I say.
Chapter 31
James Faulkner’s study would rival the oval office. I’ve never seen anything like it. He is a rice tycoon, that’s for certain. The man is wealthy, acquiring the best life has to offer. I try to not act too impressed, seeing as I am the granddaughter of Allen T. Griffin. According to everyone, he is filthy rich. So for all intents and purposes, I should be accustomed to rooms like this.
James points at a lovely sitting area a few yards away from his gargantuan hand-carved desk. I’m relieved. I would hate to think he would sit behind his desk being superior, cold, and aloof when his daughter needed him.
Emily and I take our seats on a maroon velvet sofa carved out of dark wood. It’s not very comfortable, but then again, I don’t think I can relax anyway. James pours himself a glass of brandy and then takes a seat in a high-back leather chair directly across from us.
Sighing, he rubs his eyebrows and then faces Emily straight on. “You must stop working the Railroad, Emily. You did some good there for a while, but now it’s too dangerous. If you drop your activity now, I don’t think you can be implicated in any wrongdoing.”
Emily is stunned to silence and, frankly, so am I.
“Daddy—” she begins, but he interrupts her.
“I’ve known for some time, and honestly, I am proud of you. Your mother doesn’t know, mind you, so I’d advise you not to mention it in front of her.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Emily sounds relieved, and right now I am jealous. How easy was that? Miss Emily does have absolutely everything. Favor from above must shower down on her every day of her life. I despise my own daddy even more.
“You’ve got a heart of gold, honey.” He piles it on. “I’ve actually followed you from time to time to make sure you were safe.”
Oh, how the tide turns. His statement drips with accusation. Emily shifts her position on the small couch. If James Faulkner trailed behind on some of her nightly escapades undetected, then he must also know of her involvement with Lunar. I can feel the warmth radiating off her face from where I’m sitting. I shift in my seat, too. It’s getting uncomfortable, so I place my hands inside my dress pockets to keep from twisting my fingers in anxiousness. Talk about favor—a cold round object hidden deep within the fabric. James Faulkner’s wedding ring! I bite my lip to keep from smiling. The day of reckoning has come, and the truth will set Emily free.
“Emily, there are some things I will close a blind eye to; other things I will not.” Mr. Faulkner is speaking in his disciplinary tone. “Allowing my daughter to be with a Negro is unacceptable.”
“Daddy.” Emily is quick on the defense. “Lunar is more than a Negro. He’s a person, a human being with feelings, and we love each other.”
“Enough!” James cuts her off. “You are going to end it right here, right now. No more Railroad, no more Lunar. I’m selling him right after harvest. I have a buyer up in North Carolina who will be here first of October to take him away.”
Trembling, Emily gasps and stands. “Daddy, don’t you dare!”
“It’s already in the works, Emily. I’ve made up my mind. Believe me, I’m doing what’s best for the both of you. What kind of life do you think you can have loving a Negro?”
I’m ready to reveal the ring inside my pocket when Emily pulls out all the stops. “A life of a mother because I’m carrying his baby!”
The room falls silent except for my pounding heart. I swallow hard, thinking maybe I should tiptoe out right about now. Instead, it’s James who leaves the room.
Emily buries her face in her hands and sobs.
“Give him time.” I try to convince myself as well as her. “It was a big announcement to spring on him like that. Let him digest it. He’s a good man. He’ll come around.”
Emily nods through her sobs. All I can do is offer her hope and pray Mr. Faulkner will respond the right way.
Emily regains her composure before she sneaks back to the third floor and checks on Lunar. I sigh and decide on a walk outside. It’s nearly supper time, and the delicious aroma of food wafts from the kitchen. As good as it smells, I don’t think I could eat a bite. My stomach is in turmoil. I can’t take much more drama. I decide on going to my favorite spot. There’s something about the pond that comforts me. Maybe it’s the gurgle of water trickling over the smooth stones. Perhaps, it’s the stimulating smell of jasmine and other blooming plants that act as some type of aromatherapy, calming my nerves. Or better yet, maybe it’s the sweet moments I have spent with Quillan that draw me in. Whatever the reason, I hurry to get there.
I push open the heavy gate, ducking under the hanging vines, eager to reach my favorite spot near the lily pads when I spot James Faulkner sitting on the ground, tossing stones in the water. Stopping in my tracks, I decide to do an about-face and get the hell out of Dodge when he notices me.
“I built this garden myself, dug the pond and everything, and didn’t use any of the Negroes.”
I’m trapped, no hightailing it out of here now. Reluctantly, I go in and take a seat on the grass beside him. “It’s beautiful.” I praise his handiwork. “It’s my favorite place to come and think.”
“Mine, too,” he says with a faraway look in his eyes. “I started it the day Emily was born. After holding her in my arms for the first time, I wanted to make her a special safe place. So I created the garden, like the good Lord did for us.”
He’s quiet now. I wonder if he’s thinking about banishing her from it because she has eaten forbidden fruit.
“See that old swing over there?” He points to a tree nearly swallowed up in vines and ivy. A weathered swing hangs sideways, looking as if it hasn’t been used in years. “I used to push her on it every evening after supper. She would laugh and scream for me to push her higher and higher. I swear that girl was part bird, always pushing the limits. She wasn’t content until she was soaring over the trees.”
I laugh, enjoying his reminiscing.
“I wanted a lot of children, but Emily was it for us. Elizabeth experienced such pain delivering that she was terrified to have anymore. She wouldn’t even let me touch her after that.”
Two and two always make four, and now I know why James is sleeping with Pearl in the upstairs bedroom. A twinge of sympathy for the man takes root, and whether I like it or not, we’re bonding.
“You do what you can to protect the ones you love, but in the end, they just slip through your fingers.”
I sigh and nod my head. The lump inhabiting my throat is full-grown and won’t let me speak. He’s right. I’ve lost Momma, and now here I am trying hard to save Emily, Lunar, and Quillan. In the end, if we succeed, they will have each other, but I’ll be alone, empty-handed, left with nothing but memories.
“She’s not slipping through your fingers,” I manage to say, choking on the lump. “She’s placing her hand in yours and asking you to walk with her on the path she’s chosen.”
He’s quiet, so I keep quiet, too, allowing the thought to sink in. My momma always said there is a time to talk and a time to keep quiet. She also warned me a fool is known by talking too much, but wise people can hold their tongue. I know I’ve played the fool more than once in my life, and right now, I think it’s time to stay quiet.
The bullfrogs begin tuning up, joined by the crickets in their evening serenade. The dinner bell rang some time ago, but neither James nor I moved a muscle. For some reason, I feel like I need to stay here with him. So I do.
Finally, after about a half hour, he breaks the silence. “What if the path she wants to walk is perilous?”
“Most paths worth walking are. Like the swing, she wants to push the limits. Stand behind her and let her soar, just be there to help her if she falls.”
He’s quiet again, and this time I press on. “Times are changing, Mr. Faulkner. Things are going to get worse before they get better. Lincoln will be elected and South Carolina will leave the Union. War’s going to break out. It’s a perilous path everyone is going to have to walk. You’ll survive, and things will get better for everyone, Negroes included. Slavery isn’t going to last forever.”
“I’d be just as pleased if it didn’t,” he admits. “I don’t feel right about it.”
“Then do something about it,” I say, hoping I haven’t been foolish and pushed the limits.
He smiles at me and my heart warms. I’ve just had a father-daughter talk, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it, even though James Faulkner is not my daddy.
Chapter 32
I say good night to Mr. Faulkner and wait until he’s out of sight before I toss his wedding band into the water and watch it sink. I have no intention of using it against him. I’m feeling pretty good after our talk, so I lay back in the grass and watch the stars come out. Of course, my first thoughts are of the time Quillan and I spent the night out here. I’m hoping he’ll come join me again when Mike shows up and interrupts my dreaming.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He stretches out beside me. “You missed dinner.”
“You can always find me in my favorite spot,” I tell him. “I love it out here.”
“Now, that’s something I never thought I’d hear you say, Averie Cooke.” He laughs.
I smile. “This place is different now.”
“You’re different now, too, Ave.”
“Really? How so?”
“Well, for start
ers, you’ve gotten a lot more courage. You don’t seem as afraid as you used to be. You’re taking risk, doing daring things, like working for the Underground. Where did that come from? It’s certainly not my overly cautious friend, Averie.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I didn’t voluntarily come here, you know. If I’d had it my way, I would have run all the way home that night, dove into my bed, and pulled the covers over my head. But home wasn’t there anymore. It was a do-or-die situation. I decided to do. Then somewhere in the midst of it, I realized I was having fun.”
“Or somewhere in the midst of it, you realized you were falling in love,” Mike corrects me.
“Maybe,” I say. “I don’t know what it feels like. I’ve never been in love before.”
“Well, when you’re in love, you can’t stop thinking about the person…”
Check.
“You find yourself scanning a room for them and making every effort to be where they are…”
Check.
“You hang on every word they say, and when something good happens, they’re the first person you want to tell…”
Check.
“And when something bad happens, they’re the first person you want to cry with…”
Check.
“You’re constantly thinking of ways to help them, things you can do to make them happy, to make life special for them.”
Check.
“It’s hard imagining life without them…”
Double check.
Mike just described himself to me, but now that I’ve spent nearly a month here, I could say the same thing about Quillan. Except when I am around Quillan, I get that burning in my belly I don’t get when I am with Mike.
“How do you know this?” I ask, still stargazing. “Which one of your many girlfriends did you feel this way about?”