Dreams of Savannah

by Roseanna M. White

  His smile faded too. “Of course, Miss Owens.”

  Phin’s fingers stroked her jawline and then slipped down to tangle with hers. “I wish . . . I wish we could run off too. But I can’t ask it of you. Not now.”

  “No.” She squeezed her eyes shut, the fear rushing her again. “I can’t leave him.”

  “I know. But someday, Delie-Darlin—someday, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  He didn’t drop to a knee. He had no lovely jewelry. The world was far from a place of orange blossoms and sunshine and rainbows right now. But somehow, the words still sounded sweeter to her ears than the most poetic of proposals possibly could have. Throat too tight to speak, she nodded. Swallowed. Squeezed his fingers till he probably wanted to shake her free. “Will you wait for me?” she whispered.

  His smile said he remembered when he’d asked her that question, nearly a year ago. And he remembered his line. “Forever. And then some—however long it takes, Cordelia. There is no woman in the world for me but you.”

  The sound of a door opening invaded the joy of the moment, and Moses’s voice snuck into the garden. “Miss Delia? Yo mama want you.”

  She didn’t know when Phin might come back, so she wasn’t about to let him leave without a kiss. As Luther turned back toward the garden gate, she stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to Phin’s.

  A gentle embrace. But the promise was there. Forever. When she broke away, tears were stinging her eyes again. “I’ll make sure Salina comes tonight. After dark.”

  And if that suspicion in her mind was God-sent and not her own wishful thinking, she’d be sending Vangie there with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The night was dark as tar, cool and damp and quiet enough to stretch Salina’s nerves taut. She cast a glance over her shoulder to where Vangie—Eva—followed a step behind, her tiny baby nestled against her chest, secured with a length of cloth. Prayed, for the millionth time, that the little one would stay so content all the night long.

  Not much farther now. She didn’t dare speak, but with every footfall, the words thrummed through her mind. We’ll take wing and fly away.

  Hoofbeats reached her ears, and Salina darted behind a hedge, pulled Eva with her. But it must have been a street over. She gave it a moment, just to be sure, and to let her pulse hammer back down to normal. Then she touched Eva’s arm to signal her to follow once more.

  Dunn House was just there, she knew, where that single light shone in the window. Somehow, seeing it didn’t bring the rush of relief she’d expected. Rather, it lit up a big ol’ fire of second-guessing. Was she doing the right thing, leaving? Miss Delia had been so insistent that Salina had found herself carried away with the plan. But while it might save her own skin, given the dark looks the missus had sent her that afternoon, what about her sister?

  She’d snuck out like Miss Delia had asked her to do, over to the Youngs’. Half hoping, half fearing that by the time she got back, the plan would have been abandoned. But when Salina had returned and whispered that Vangie had greeted her questions with wonder and affirmation, Miss Delia had been more determined even than before. There hadn’t been no talking her out of it, no reasoning with her. And Salina knew she didn’t really want to reason her out of it, either. There’d been something in her sister’s eyes that resonated all the way down to Salina’s soul. Something that said this was a step they both had to take. To be the women they both needed to become.

  She crept now up to the back entrance of the Dunns’, where the gate had been left unlatched. It swung open without a creak, and she and Eva slipped through quietly. No one had bothered to tell her where they were supposed to go once here, but she headed for the kitchen, figuring that the most logical place to find the servants.

  A lamp glowed within, illuminating a blessedly familiar figure standing beside the table.

  Eva rested a hand on her arm. “You’re sure, Salina? Sure my Luther’s here?” Her voice quavered, strained. Like any moment she might burst out either in laughter or tears. “If the Youngs catch me sneakin off . . .”

  “They won’t. And he is.” She patted the trembling hand and reached for the door.

  The moment the knob turned, River’s head jerked their way, his hand going to his waist. Salina saw the gun secured there and was quick to step into the light. “You shoot me, River, and you can forget marryin me.”

  “Salina.” Worry gave way to a grin, and he all but jumped across the space between them to pull her into his arms. “Please tell me you didn’t jest come to say bye.”

  “No.” She stretched up on her toes so she could bury her face in his neck. “I’m comin with you.”

  He held her so tight she thought she might melt right into him, then pulled away just enough to kiss her so nice she thought she might melt right into a puddle instead. His hands cradled her face when he pulled away. “We’ll marry soon as we get to the island. Monty can do it, he be a preacher, sho nuff.”

  “Monty!” She pulled away, spun to the door. Eva hovered in the threshold, a sweet smile on her face. Salina motioned her in. “We found Eva.”

  “You found—Vangie?” River’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open. “You mean t’tell me all this time she was with Miss Annaleigh, and we never made the connection?”

  “Miss Delia did.” Salina’s lips pulled up. “Maybe you shoulda asked her sooner. Where’s Monty—Luther, I mean?”

  River’s gaze had gone to the half-concealed face of the baby, still so small. “He and Mr. Phin are out checkin on something in the gear we stowed away. Oh, he shoot right to the moon with happiness, sho nuff.” Then he frowned. “It’s gwine be a tricky trip out to Tybee though, with the leely chil’.”

  Eva slid into a chair and wrapped her arms round the babe. “She be a good baby, quiet as a church mouse. We won’t be no trouble.”

  A breath of a laugh shook the arm he had around her. “Don’t reckon it’d matter even if you was. Monty—Luther, whatever he gwine by now—sho ain’t gwine anywheres without you, now yo here.”

  Salina let the knapsack on her shoulder slide to the floor and snuggled into River’s side. Slid her eyes closed and just took a moment. Breathed it in. She was really here. At the side of the man she loved, soon to be his wife. Ready to leave Savannah, her sister, her father.

  Her father, who might not even be alive come morning. Didn’t seem right, leaving him lying there like that, and on account of her. But what was she supposed to do? Mrs. Owens wouldn’t even let her in the room to see him.

  But she could pray just as well for him on Tybee as here. And Miss Delia had promised to get word to her about him through Rock, next time he came to the city.

  And at least she’d go knowing that he loved her enough to defend her against that devil man. It was something. Maybe not enough . . . but it would have to be.

  River’s lips pressed against the top of her head. “How’s Mr. Owens?”

  Her throat went dry. “Bad. But still breathin, when I left. Miss Delia’s going to make sure he don’t hear bout my leavin till he strong enough it don’t hurt him none.”

  Assuming he recovered. But they wouldn’t speak of anything else. He’d recover. And she’d make it safely to Tybee. Marry River. Have a good life.

  It wasn’t gonna be easy—she knew that. Plantation life was always hard and often fatal, and she wasn’t none too sure they oughta be trusting the Yankees on the islands to be any better than a Southern master in general, and sure not better than the ones she knew. And if the Union beat a retreat, all the runaways would have to either run more or face their masters.

  River obviously wouldn’t mind that day, what with having Mr. Phin’s blessing and help. And Miss Delia wouldn’t never try to haul her back here. Even so, the future was a big ol cloud of uncertainty.

  But at least she wouldn’t be facing it alone.

  “That should do it.”

  Luther tied the bag shut tightly and nodded at Phineas. “It should indeed
. You’ve done all you can to be sure we’re safe and successful. River and I will take it from here.”

  The young man shoved his hands into his pockets, his face shrouded in the night’s shadows. “I know. And you’ll be fine. River’s brother will meet you at the skiff, and there’s no better pilot to be found. He knows every marsh and waterway between here and Tybee.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Phineas.”

  “Right. Luther?”

  “Hmm?”

  Phineas sighed. “It’s going to be awfully quiet around here without your silent sermonizing.”

  Luther chuckled and tossed his hat onto the wagon’s bench. “And I suppose I’m glad I didn’t let you die on that beach. I’ll be praying for you and your Miss Owens.”

  “And if Eva doesn’t find you first, I’ll find her, I promise. And send her to you.” Phineas made his way slowly toward the front of the wagon. “Once you’re together, don’t feel obligated to stay on Tybee if the opportunity arises for you to head back to England.”

  “As the Lord leads.” But for now, he felt a solid peace about this new task. And couldn’t shake the feeling that his Eva would come to him soon. He strode to his friend’s side. “A thought came to me today. I think you can take a lesson from the nation of Israel.”

  He felt more than saw Phineas cross his arms over his chest. “Calling me stiff-necked?”

  “Well . . .” Another chuckle tickled his throat. “No. Rather, in this: Sometimes they fell away. Sometimes they wouldn’t listen to their prophets. Sometimes the Lord sent another nation to carry them off.”

  Phineas leaned against the wagon. “Do you think that’s what this is? That this war is God giving my nation over to the Yankees?”

  Luther shrugged. “I can’t know if this fractured nation is truly an echo of Israel in that way, much as it may seem like it to my eyes. I can’t know how the war will turn out.” He drew in a long, slow breath, let it ease back out. “But I do know that when the enemy comes—even when the enemy is one’s own brother—that the faithful are not blamed for defending their homes. It’s a man’s right and obligation to protect what’s his. Even when what’s his has problems that need to be taken up with the Almighty.”

  Silence held for a long moment, and then Phineas’s hand landed on his arm. “Thank you.”

  Luther nodded. “We had better get inside, rebel. River will wonder what became of us.”

  They strode together through the night, the warm glow of lamplight from the kitchen drawing them toward the house. Though he frowned when he saw multiple silhouettes moving about within. Old Bess, perhaps?

  As they drew near, one silhouette took on more details and was definitely a younger figure. One that wasn’t just standing near River, but in his arms.

  “Salina.” Relief sounded in Phineas’s tone. “Delia convinced Salina to come.”

  Luther expelled a sigh of gratitude, too, and followed him into the kitchen. Noted yet another figure seated at the table. Froze even as his heart galloped. In spite of the unfamiliar turban, in spite of the rough brown clothes, he’d know her anywhere. That fine column of her neck. The oh-so-beautiful slope of her shoulders. And when she turned her head, that perfectly chiseled jaw, and the face—the face that had fueled his dreams for a decade. “Eva?”

  “Luther!” She flew from the chair, tears streaming even as her smile beamed.

  “Eva! My precious Eva.” He caught her by the waist, lifted her, spun her around, then nearly dropped her when a mew sounded from between them. Setting her down, he stared at the tiny creature secured to Eva’s torso with a length of soft cotton. “Who’s this?”

  She laughed, wiped at her cheeks, and lifted the wee child from its home. “This is your daughter, Luther. I’ve been calling her Amada, after Grammy.”

  He held out his arms, a wave of awe washing over him when she slid the mite into them. So tiny. So beautiful, just like her mother. But he saw himself in her too—his nose, his lips, his chin. “Amada. It means beloved, doesn’t it?”

  Eva nodded and then rested her forehead against his chest. As she had done so many times—as she hadn’t done in so very long. He had to close his eyes just to take it all in. His wife, in his arms again. With a child, their child. A beautiful little girl for whom he’d long ago given up hoping. “I feel I must be dreaming.”

  Her laughter soothed over him again like birdsong. “I’ve felt that way ever since Salina came this afternoon. When she told me you were here, had been here for months. Oh, how I’ve missed you, corazoncito.” Her arms wrapped tight around him. “Did Grammy get better?”

  “No, my love. I’m sorry. Dr. Santiago and I did all we could, but . . .”

  “I knew it somehow. Felt it.” Though sorrow deepened her eyes when she looked up, peace lit them too. “Just like I knew you’d come. Soon as you could.”

  He wanted to assure her he had tried right away. Tell her all about that first trip, being refused entry and sent back to Cuba. He wanted to tell her of Phineas washing ashore, of Santiago and Rosario, of the months of prayer and care. Of the trip here at last, the endless search.

  And he would. Later. For now, he pressed a kiss to the impossibly soft skin of little Amada’s forehead and held her out to Phineas, who was watching from River’s side. “If you would hold my daughter for just a moment, Phin, I need to greet my wife properly.”

  “Oh. Ah . . .” Uncertain enough to earn chuckles from everyone, Phineas awkwardly took her in his arms.

  Grinning, Luther turned back to Eva. She wore that knowing smile he so loved, the one that said she understood every thought winging through his head, understood and loved him for them. Then he pulled her close, and it was like life’s puzzle clicked into place. His arms had been empty too long, but no more. “My darling Eva.”

  He bent down until he could touch his lips to hers. Only a light kiss, given the audience, but she would feel the love surging through it, making his arms shudder under her hands too. She would know. She would know all that lay behind it.

  Just as he could tell from her every movement, from the tears that wetted her cheeks, how much she had to tell him. She would tell him of the pain, of the indignity. But of the Lord’s continued protection through this last year. Of the hope that had held on inside her, the comfort she had taken from the child she hadn’t expected to ever carry. She would tell him of the tears she shed upon realizing that their daughter would be born a slave.

  And he would assure her she wasn’t. Remind her that she had never legally been a slave here, circumstances notwithstanding. Promise that when the Lord released them from their new work and provided the way home, they would return to Stoke Newington and Amada would grow up breathing in that English air that made one free.

  “My Luther,” Eva whispered against his lips. “I have missed saying your name. But I did not dare, knowing you would have to come in secret. I should have known though—should have known those whispers about the mountain of a man called Monty were really you. I just could not fathom you’d come with a white man. Salina says we are going to Tybee Island?”

  He nodded. “We’re turning the Dunn plantation into a colony of refuge, a school. We can minister and teach there until a way home presents itself.”

  “Good. I would not want to sail all the way home yet, with the baby so small.” Smiling, she reclaimed their wee one from Phineas and slid her back into the sling once more. No doubt she was most content there, with her mother’s heart under her ear.

  “Speaking of which, we had better go.” River urged Salina toward the door, his gaze lingering on her as if unable to believe she was there.

  A feeling Luther well understood. He couldn’t convince himself to let go of Eva entirely either, so he wove their fingers together.

  Phineas opened the door.

  Delia closed the cover of the Bible she’d been reading aloud to Daddy, her eyes heavy and gritty. It was nearing midnight. Salina ought to have made it safely to the Dunns’ by now. Perhaps the
y were even on their way to the river already. She said a silent prayer for their safety, her hand splayed over the warm leather binding of the Bible.

  Mama had finally been convinced to sleep for a few hours. The servants were all ready to take a shift sitting with Daddy, but Cordelia had insisted on the first one. She’d felt a bit strange at first, here in his bedroom, where she’d so rarely been. But that had nothing on the strangeness of seeing her strong father looking so weak and pale.

  A soft moan escaped him.

  Cordelia slid the Bible on the nightstand and surged forward. “Do you need something, Daddy?”

  His eyes fluttered open. “Delie-Darlin? That you?”

  “Of course it is.” She reached for his hand and held it between both of hers. “How are you feeling?”

  He attempted a smile, though it bore little resemblance to a real one. “I’ll be all right.”

  She hoped he was right. “You’ve given us all quite a scare. Dr. Wilkes was here most of the day.”

  His hum bespoke acknowledgment, if not remembrance. Then his expression shifted. “I should have believed you. About Julius.”

  She pressed his palm between hers. “I wish I hadn’t been right.”

  “I know.” He shifted, winced. “Is Salina all right?”

  Though she opened her mouth, Cordelia didn’t know quite what to say. Salina hadn’t been exactly all right. How could she be, after being attacked like she had? And then at being informed she had better hurry to the barrier islands if she wanted to avoid the auction block? “She . . . suffered no injury.”

  For the space of a few breaths, Daddy said nothing. Maybe he was too tired. Maybe she shouldn’t be engaging him like this at all. She was about to offer him a drink to help him settle back down to sleep again when he said, “That boy of the Dunns’ that rushed in . . .”

  Salina had mentioned that part too. “River?”

  He nodded. “You tell him he’s not welcome here anymore, even with Sassy. Salina’s too good for the likes of him.”