Harriet was confused by this apparent change of subject, but then Jane spoke again and it all made sense. “You were always one of my favorite people in the world, baby girl. And Sam—well, you know how I felt about Sam. He was the light of my life. That boy could walk into a room and turn it into a celebration, for all the joy he brought into people’s lives. But even after all that, even living in a new state, even knowing what kind of people you are, a black man and a white woman could never truly be happy together. This world is still so full of hate. If you were able to get married, yes, you’d be happy together, but you’d never be able to walk down a street together or attend a party together. It could never be, not for your whole lives.”
“But I don’t care about parties,” Harriet protested. “I used to, but not anymore. They aren’t important. Love is what’s important.”
“And it’s good that you know that. But you’d get mighty tired hiding inside your house all the time. It would put a strain on you and on your marriage. Trust me, being someone’s wife is challenging enough without bringing all the rest of it along for the ride.”
“So you were against our marriage, then?” Harriet’s heart felt like it was filled with wet sand.
“If we lived in a perfect world where a white man and a black man could stand beside each other and never have a moment’s thought as to who was better, I would have loved to see you married. But we don’t live in that world, baby girl. We live in a world of hate and fear, where people are bought and sold like flour or eggs. Even though the war is over now and the slaves are free, men and women aren’t free from the thoughts and ideas that started the war in the first place. The color of my skin isn’t going to change just because I’m free now, and people’s minds aren’t going to change just because the North won.”
Jane reached out and touched Harriet’s hand. “I never objected to him marrying you. I objected to the way you’d be treated. Where would you find a place to marry and live in peace? Where would you find a place to raise your children without taunting and ridicule? I’d want you to be truly happy, and I was afraid that would never be. And look what happened—Sam lost his life just because he had the courage to propose. What would they have done to him if he’d succeeded in taking you out of Georgia? You can only kill a man so dead.”
“Do you blame me, Jane? Do you blame me because Sam died?” Harriet’s voice caught in her throat. If her chest hurt any more than it already did, she might think she needed to send for a doctor.
“No, baby girl. Sam made his choice, and he was happy with it. Some wicked men decided to stop him, but I know for a fact that he died loving you, not regretting anything. That’s just the man my boy was.” Jane nodded as though that settled it. “And I’ll always be grateful to your brother, Mr. Sterling, for the letter he wrote, telling me what happened. It was an awful task, but he did it kindly. He’s a good man.”
“I never asked if anyone in my family knew where you were,” Harriet said, feeling foolish.
“Likely they wouldn’t have told you. Kin protects kin, and they might have wanted to spare you more pain. But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Harriet laid her cheek on the table and cried. Jane placed her hand on Harriet’s forehead and smoothed back the little strands and tendrils that had come loose. “That’s right. You cry it out. You cry until you can’t anymore. One thing I know is that crying won’t bring Sam back, but it will make the hurt less. Sometimes that’s the best we can do.”
Chapter Ten
As Tom guided the buggy away from the Robinsons’ house, he kept glancing over at Harriet. Her face looked pale, and she was missing her usual spark. He wondered if she would tell him what had happened while he was out wandering the property with Mr. Robinson. He knew she’d cried—her eyes still bore evidence of it. But was it the kind of crying that healed, or the kind that made the pain worse?
He was able to secure two rooms at a hotel near the livery stable, and carried Harriet’s bag up the stairs for her. “Are you hungry? I noticed they have a restaurant downstairs.”
“I’m actually not hungry at all, Tom, but don’t let that stop you. I’m going to lock my door and go to bed early.”
He studied her eyes for a moment. They weren’t quite as red as they’d been when they first left the Robinsons’, but they threatened to cloud over again any minute, like skies getting ready to rain. “All right. My room’s across the hall if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Tom. Good night.”
He stood outside the door and waited until he heard the latches click before he walked away.
The hotel had good food, but nothing like Miss Hampton could make. Tom ate his fill of stew, bread, and pie, noticing that the table linens weren’t as white and crisp as the linens at the Brody, and one of the legs of his chair seemed a little shorter than the others. He enjoyed taking a certain amount of pride in his home.
His home? He blinked a few times. Where had that thought come from? He was a drifter, a man unfettered. He could come and go as he pleased. He’d only taken the job at the Brody for six months, maybe eight, to earn enough money to fund his next adventure. Then his mind flicked back to telling Harriet he thought he might stay for a while. Maybe he didn’t know what he really wanted, but the thought of belonging somewhere was sure nice.
He tossed some money on the table and stood up, trying to decide what to do with the rest of his evening. It was still young, and he wouldn’t be sleepy for a while yet. Salina wasn’t a large town, but maybe he could find some way to pass the time.
Hot, humid wind slapped him in the face as he stepped outside. It had been humid inside the hotel as well, but at least within those four walls, he’d been protected from these unpredictable gusts. He pulled his hat down low over his eyes, hoping to keep the dust out of his nose and mouth while he walked down the street.
Up ahead loomed a tall saloon, easily two stories. As he drew closer, he could hear laughter coming from inside, and he smiled, remembering that one time when he beat Roy Hawkins out of fifty dollars with a bluff. Of all the hands of poker he’d ever played, that one had been by far the best. Roy hadn’t been too happy about it, but Tom wasn’t living to please Roy.
He paused for a moment outside the saloon. He’d always enjoyed a hand of cards, a drink, and a dance with a pretty girl just as much as the next man, but for some reason, Harriet’s face rose up in his mind. He couldn’t picture her ever stepping foot in a place like this, or condoning that behavior for anyone. Then he thought about Elizabeth, Miss Hampton, and the other girls at the Brody. He didn’t know what to think of Miss Markham—he’d only just met her, and she was more confusing than a snake with two tails—but as for the rest of them, he couldn’t imagine any of them approving. He took a few steps back. He was surrounded by some of the finest women he’d ever known, and he wanted to have their confidence. He’d be a fool to throw that away for a few hands of poker because he was bored.
He shook his head as he walked back up the street to the hotel. What was happening to him? It’s a good thing none of his old friends from Wichita could see him now—they’d likely dress him in petticoats and tease him about turning into a girl. Whatever the consequences, though, he felt good about his choice. He wanted to be a different kind of man than he’d ever been before, and this seemed like the perfect way to begin.
The hotel was mostly quiet when he went back inside. It seemed that the diners had all finished their meals and gone their way. Tom picked up a newspaper in the lobby and sat down to read the headlines, but nothing held his interest. Finally, in disgust, he returned the paper to the table and took the stairs to the upper floor two at a time. He’d never felt so caged up before. He’d once seen a picture of a tiger in captivity. The caption said the animal had been pacing back and forth for hours, glaring and growling at anyone who came too near the bars, and that’s how he felt. He wanted out of there. He wanted to get back to work. He paused—he wanted to talk to Harriet.
He raised his hand, but paused before he actually made contact with the wood. He stood that way for several seconds before he heard a soft voice behind him.
“I believe that works better if you actually strike your hand against the door,” she said merrily.
“Oh, is that the best way to go about it? I knew I had missed something.” Tom turned around and saw that Harriet was looking much better. “You haven’t been wandering around without me, have you?”“No. I just visited the water closet.” She seemed a little embarrassed to mention such a thing. “I’ve been in my room the rest of the time.”
“Were you able to get any rest?”
“I slept for about half an hour. What have you been doing?”
“I ate some dinner and then took a little walk around town. It would have been more enjoyable if you’d been with me, though.”
“Oh, so that’s why you were standing here threatening my door. You missed me.” She put one hand on her hip and looked at him with those intense eyes.
“I wasn’t threatening your door!”
“I don’t know what else you’d call it. You certainly weren’t knocking—I’d say you were definitely threatening to knock without actually following through on it.”
Tom held up both hands in surrender. “Very well, I was threatening your door. But now that we’ve established it, you’re obviously awake, and I have nothing to do. Come take a walk with me. Save me from my boredom.”
She seemed to consider that for a moment. “All right. Just let me grab my hat.”
Walking down the street with Harriet at his side was a completely different experience from walking it alone. He found himself noticing the little touches of culture and humanity everywhere—yards with flowers planted along the walks, small children dressed in neat and tidy clothing, the fine dresses in the shop windows. Being with Harriet made things come alive for him like never before.
As they rounded a corner, Harriet stepped around a depression in the road and took hold of Tom’s elbow for balance. After she righted herself, she didn’t let go, and they strolled the rest of the way back to the hotel arm in arm. As Tom lay down to go to sleep, he was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. If he did nothing else in his life, he could look back on today and say that he’d had the distinct honor and privilege of escorting Miss Harriet Martin around town one pleasant summer evening. That was a mighty fine accomplishment.
* * *
Something had definitely changed inside Harriet during their trip. She was talkative and friendly on the train ride back to Topeka, and Tom didn’t find himself wanting to escape into a nap even once. She told him a series of humorous tales from her childhood, including a time when she and Sam had dressed up as ghosts and chased the geese around the yard. The sorrow that had taken her over when she spoke of Sam before was now gone, and she seemed to be much more at peace. It was a beautiful improvement, and Tom found himself staring at her more than once.
As the train neared Topeka, Tom feared that once they arrived back at the hotel, the wall she’d built between them would come right back up, but it didn’t. She alighted and stood on the platform, waiting for him so they could walk away from the train together. Tom saw Mr. Brody standing there and waved.
“This is quite the change, having two of my people on that side of the travel experience,” Mr. Brody said, reaching out to shake Tom’s hand and giving Harriet a nod. “How was the trip?”
“Exhausting, and I think you’re a brilliant man for starting up your hotel right where you did,” Harriet said. “I’m more than ready to wash up and eat a hot meal.”Mr. Brody chuckled. “Step this way and right through those gates, and your meal today is on the house.”
Tom laughed. As employees of the hotel, all their meals were on the house.
Mr. Brody took Harriet’s bag from Tom, and they walked back to the hotel together. Harriet was a few paces ahead of them, looking eager to get as far away from the train as possible. Or at least, that’s how Tom interpreted the little run in her step. “Did Miss Martin find what she was looking for?” Mr. Brody asked.
“We were able to locate the woman who used to work for her family, and I think they had a good talk. Harriet was a bit low for a few hours, but she seemed to spark back to life after a time.”
“Oh, so it’s Harriet now, is it?” Mr. Brody said, a smirk on his face.
“I’ve said it all along, sir—I think we’d save quite a lot of time if we put the formalities aside. Harriet just so happened to agree with me.”
Mr. Brody stopped in the middle of the walk. “Well, I do too. What do you say, Tom? Call me Adam.” He stuck out his hand.
Tom took a step back, surprised. “I didn’t mean you, sir. You’re our boss. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Oh, come on. If I’m the boss, that means I make the rules, and what if I like this rule of yours? Call me Adam—at least when there are no customers within earshot. Is it a deal?”
Tom glanced around, although he wasn’t sure why. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if someone saw this deal being struck. “All right, Adam,” he said, shaking the other man’s offered hand. “Thank you.”
It was good to step back into the Brody and admire the fresh paint and the clean carpeting laid out on the stairs. A swelling of pride filled his chest, knowing he was an integral part of what made this hotel so unique. And the smells coming from the dining room—his mouth watered as soon as he caught a whiff. Harriet was already seated and waved him over to her table.
“We get to sit down with all the regular folks today, do we?” Tom asked, taking off his hat and placing it on one of the empty chairs at the table.
“Miss Hampton insisted.” Harriet raised a shoulder. “I certainly wasn’t about to argue with her. We might not get this opportunity again.”
Jeanette walked up to the table and gave a nod. “Welcome to the Brody Hotel. What may I serve you for dinner?”
“I’ll take the chicken and dumplings, please, miss,” Tom said.
“And I’ll have the same,” Harriet added.
“Very good. We also have peach pie for dessert today.”
“That sounds delicious,” Tom replied. Jeanette bobbed a quick curtsy and grinned, then headed off for the kitchen.
“I can’t believe I missed learning how to make peach pie,” Harriet said, leaning across the table and speaking low so the customers couldn’t hear her. “I’m from the South. I’m supposed to know how to make peach pie.”
“I’m sure you’ll get another chance,” Tom said. “Miss Hampton wouldn’t let you off the hook that easily.”
“True.”
Jeanette brought their food, and Tom dug in. He laughed and chatted with Harriet, winked at Abigail as she passed, and gave a nod to Miss Markham. He’d figure her out eventually and decide how best he wanted to tease her, if at all. Then he leaned back and laid a hand on his stomach. “It’s good to be home,” he said, and this time, the word “home” didn’t feel odd to him at all.
* * *
“Tell me everything that happened on your trip,” Elizabeth said, nudging Harriet with her elbow while they stood over the laundry tub.
“Are you sure you should be out here scrubbing tablecloths with us? You’re the boss’s wife now. This feels a little odd,” Harriet replied. Not that she wanted Elizabeth to step back from her usual duties—she would miss working side by side with her good friend—but didn’t the wife of Mr. Adam Brody deserve a little more consideration?
“I will scrub tablecloths until there are enough people here to scrub them in my stead,” Elizabeth replied. She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “Olivia is hopeless with laundry. Caroline will keep workin
g with her on it, but in the meantime, she’s got her doing dishes. She’s only slightly better at that.” Elizabeth chuckled. “If she had anywhere else to go, I’m sure Caroline would have asked her to leave two days ago.”
“But she’s trying, isn’t she?” Harriet asked.
“She’s trying. I will give her that.” Elizabeth set to work on a gravy stain. “I just wish she was succeeding a bit more frequently. I feel responsible—I asked Adam to hire her, and if it doesn’t work out, it will be on my head.”
“Be patient a little longer,” Harriet said. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but I’m coming along.”
“You have a few more natural skills,” Elizabeth replied. “Now, back to the topic at hand. I want to know everything that happened on your trip. Did you find Jane?”
“We did find Jane, and she gave us a wonderful welcome. We talked about Sam, and she helped me see things in a new light.” Harriet paused halfway through wringing out an apron and considered. She hadn’t liked the things Jane had told her, pointing out the flaws in their fairy-tale plan, but she’d been able to realize the truth of them. She and Sam couldn’t have been together. The world just wasn’t ready. “I cried for a while, and it was good for me. I feel much more ready to accept and let go.” It would still be painful—of that, she was sure.
“I’m so glad.” Elizabeth moved on to another stain. “Did you and Tom get along all right? I imagine it was taxing, spending all that time together on the train.”
“That’s another difficult question.” Harriet grabbed the next apron on the stack. “We called a truce before we left, and then we fought on the train, and then there was sort of an unspoken truce after that. I don’t know where we are right now. It’s all rather confusing.”
A Free Heart Page 7