Ella Wood Novellas: Boxed Set Page 5

  Her breath came ragged and she rolled to her side, her back to her husband, shaking from head to toe. “Ketch, I’m sorry.”

  He moved behind her, drawing her stiff body into the warm curve of his chest. “It’s okay, baby. We can stop.”

  She choked back a sob, but it was too late. A river of fear and revulsion gushed out, ugly and unstoppable. She curled into a ball and sobbed into her hands. Ketch tucked her more securely into the circle of his embrace, rubbing her arms and laying a gentle kiss on the nape of her neck. “It’s all right, Lizzie. I’m right here, an’ I ain’t never gunna let nothin’ hurt you again.”

  The contact and the murmured endearments surrounded her like a warm blanket. Gradually the terror left her, and the memories receded into the awful chamber in which they resided. She burrowed into her snug cocoon, emotionally spent.

  “Better?” Ketch asked, his whisper warm against her ear.

  She nodded.

  “Den let’s you an’ me tuck in an’ get some sleep.”

  Still fully dressed, he pulled the bedclothes over them and nestled in beside her, his arm secure around her waist. She closed her eyes with a long shuddering sigh, grateful for the kindness and patience of the man she had married.

  As she relaxed against her husband and listened to his breath draw out deep and even, she became conscious of the heat of his body against her back. Of his hand burning through her clothing where it lay flat against her stomach. Of the tangle their legs had become. Desire began to stir again within her.

  She shifted slightly, turning to peek behind her. “Ketch?” she whispered.

  He blinked open an eye and regarded her sleepily. “Hmm?”

  Affection flowed through her. She might be damaged, but in this place she was safe. She was loved. With Ketch’s help, she might even find wholeness again. She rolled to plant a kiss on his lips, long and lingering, full of suggestion, and felt a response begin to build within his body. Sitting upright, she shrugged off the unbuttoned shirtwaist of her dress. “I was jus’ wonderin’ if maybe you could help me off wid dis.”

  ***

  When nothing more required fixing on the farm, a fully recovered Ketch hired out to several of Mr. Blaine’s friends, saving a full fifteen dollars over the course of three weeks. With the money in his pocket, he determined it was time to embark on the next stage of their journey. And so on a cold spring day late in the month, the new family loaded their belongings into the same carriage that had brought them from Philadelphia.

  When Robin realized that Mr. Blaine and Jane and Clyde really were not accompanying them to Canada, and that he’d have to leave the only home in which he’d ever been truly happy, he was awash in tears.

  “Buck up, tiger,” Mr. Blaine said, laying a hand on the boy’s head. “You’ve got some mighty fine adventures in store. You wouldn’t want to miss them, would you?”

  The little boy shook his head and wiped a hand beneath his nose. “No, but I want you to come wid us, Unca Timothy.”

  “Well, now. I’m much too old for adventures.”

  “Den I wanna stay here.”

  “And who would help your daddy take care of your pretty new mama? Larkin?” Mr. Blaine snorted.

  Robin glanced at Lizzie through his tears. “No.”

  “You don’t think they’ll need your help?” the old man asked.

  “Dey might.”

  “Then I think you have a responsibility to your family. Besides, I do know of someone who wants to make the trip with you. I spoke to your father and he granted permission.”

  The boy’s eyes grew bright with interest. “Who?”

  Mr. Blaine gave a sharp whistle and Rosie galloped into the yard followed by six yapping, rolling puppies. “You may have the pick of the litter, but Rosie told me that Daisy is partial to going along,” he said, naming the boy’s favorite.

  Robin smiled. “Rosie can’t talk.”

  “She talks to me. And she said Daisy is especially fond of you.”

  Robin caught up the black puppy and was soon giggling as it wiggled its whole body in an attempt to lick his face.

  With no extra room in the carriage, Jane and Clyde said their goodbyes in the farmyard. Lizzie’s eyes blurred as she hugged her dear friend.

  “You two be careful,” Jane warned. “You have your story ready in case anyone asks questions?”

  Lizzie nodded. “We travelin’ to visit Ketch’s Aunt Julia and cousin Malachi.” Letters had been sent to Mr. Blaine’s nephew—Emily’s Uncle Isaac—weeks ago and a reply received. Ketch and Lizzie were expected at his hotel, and Julia and Malachi Watson would meet their train at the Detroit depot on their arrival.

  “Very good.” Jane smiled through her own tears and handed Lizzie a basket of food. “I’ll be praying you all the way.”

  Lizzie hugged Clyde. Ketch scooped up Daisy and deposited her in a large crate. And Mr. Blaine and the family climbed aboard the carriage with Ketch at the reins.

  The trip back to Philadelphia wasn’t nearly as warm as Christmas Day. Lizzie kept the baby well bundled, though he fussed if his face was covered. Robin rode the whole way with his arm inside Daisy’s crate. And Ketch didn’t cough once.

  Mr. Blaine guided them to the residence where their forged documents were waiting. Lizzie’s looked brand-new, with her manumission listed at a recent date. Ketch’s, however, had been aged to fit a date two decades before. Both were listed as from Virginia.

  Lizzie studied the documents in amazement. She’d once seen the papers belonging to Zeke, the single manumitted slave at Ella Wood. These were so meticulous in their detail that she couldn’t detect the least sign of fraud.

  “Well, Mrs. Lewis, what do you think of yo’ new name?” Ketch asked.

  “Elsbeth Lewis.” She read it aloud and smiled. She liked that the surname was the name of a dear friend she had left behind. She felt she was taking a piece of Ella Wood with her. “I can get used to it, Cash,” she said, using the name on his document.

  “I recommend you use your aliases until you reach Canada,” Mr. Blaine said. “They’re deliberately similar to your real names in case you slip up. These documents should keep the law out of your business.”

  After a brief trip to a clothier for warmer coats, Ketch drove them on to the depot with three dollars remaining in his pocket.

  Boarding the train was far different than boarding the ship in Charleston. While Lizzie found it strange to venture into public again after so many weeks, she didn’t feel unsafe. This time, wearing their new clothes and packing their freedman’s papers, they were just another family. They’d found safety in plain sight.

  With tickets purchased and Daisy’s crate and their trunk loaded into a baggage car, Ketch and Lizzie bid an emotional farewell to Mr. Blaine on the depot platform. Ketch blinked back tears as he shook his hand, and his voice came out husky. “Thank you, sir, fo’ your kindness to us.”

  “Thank you for your hard work. My farm hasn’t been in such good shape since Clyde and I were much younger men.”

  “But all the things you done fo’ us...” Ketch shook his head, and his voice faltered.

  Mr. Blaine clasped Ketch’s hand in both of his own. “If you and Lizzie do likewise when you have the opportunity, and you teach your boys to do the same, kindness will have multiplied fourfold. That is all the repayment I ask for.”

  Lizzie was the last to say goodbye. She hugged the old man warmly. “Thank you—Uncle Timothy,” she whispered. “I will never fo’get the love you shown my family.”

  ***

  It wasn’t Robin’s first time on a train, but it was the first time he’d been awake for the ride. He bounced on his seat and asked so many questions that it was hours before Lizzie could turn his interest to the steam engine book Mr. Blaine had purchased for him. Then she read aloud to him until he finally fell asleep, long after her voice had grown hoarse.

  Ketch smiled at her from the facing seat and shared a look of quiet relief. He held the baby, wh
o was gumming a wooden bear Clyde had carved for him and drooling all over Ketch’s fingers. Lizzie’s heart melted at the gentle way he handled her son—their son—and she was thinking how attractive that made a man when Larkin suddenly spit up. She giggled and handed him a cloth. “You a good daddy, Ketch.”

  Ketch nodded at the sleeping four-year-old. “Dat one broke me in.” He wiped up the mess—on the baby and on his leg—and handed Larkin to her. “But if dis one got an empty stomach now, he be needin’ you sooner’n me. I ain’t no help in dat department.”

  Morning lengthened into evening, which stretched into three long days. The ride north felt interminable. Mr. Blaine had described the route when they purchased their tickets—Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, Pittsburg to Cleveland, Cleveland to Detroit, but Lizzie hadn’t comprehended the vastness of the land between cities. Unable to afford hotels, they caught a few hours sleep at each station while they waited for connections, glad for the freedom to move about freely. Daisy, especially, appreciated these stops and the brief moments out of her crate.

  Sometimes Lizzie wished she had a crate to put Robin into. He quickly tired of the long hours of onboard monotony, especially after the freedom he had enjoyed at the farm. It grew more and more difficult to interest him in quiet activities or even hold him in his seat at all. He rolled on the floor and under the seat and sometimes even took off running down the aisle. Ketch had to retrieve him more than once.

  When Robin grew rambunctious, when he whined, when her back hurt, when Larkin fussed, or when she and Ketch exchanged impatient words, Lizzie tried to remind herself of the many, many runaways who had made the trip north on foot, and she counted her blessings. Riding the train was unimaginably better than walking.

  On the second day, at the station in Pittsburg, amid the confusion of boarding for the first time without Uncle Timothy’s guidance, Ketch accidentally led his family onto a Whites-only car and settled into the front seat. It took only moments for his mistake to prompt a minor firestorm. Robin had just sat down on the floor and was quietly paging through one of his books when an oncoming passenger stopped before him and scowled down to where his feet barely jutted into the aisle. “Get out of my way, boy,” the woman demanded.

  At the tone of her voice, Robin looked up in alarm and moved obediently, but the woman’s glare now took in Ketch, Lizzie, and the baby. Turning to the man following behind her, she declared, “What are they doing in here? See that they’re removed at once.”

  The man jostled the oversized bag he carried and jerked his head at Ketch. “You heard her. Clear out.”

  Indignation seized Lizzie, followed closely by caution. It would not serve their purpose to cause a scene. Humbly, she shifted the baby and began gathering her things. Then Ketch’s voice froze her in place.

  “This seat be taken.”

  “He can’t even speak properly,” the woman scoffed, impatient and peevish. “Now, Jeffery. I want to sit down.”

  The man snapped his fingers and called out, “Porter, remove this man from this train car.”

  By now, every eye in the compartment had fastened on the confrontation, to the accompaniment of outraged murmurs. Lizzie wrapped her free arm around Robin, who had scrambled away from the petulant woman and stared at the floor.

  The porter, a black man, approached apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir. You’ll need to find another seat.”

  “Why?” Ketch demanded. “We was sittin’ here firs’.”

  “Because this car is reserved for Whites. If you do not remove yourself to a Negro car, I will be forced to report you, and you will be escorted from the train.”

  The silence went on for several long breaths. Lizzie sneaked a glance at her husband and saw the muscles working in his jaw. “It ain’t worth it, Cash,” she whispered. “Think o’ de boys.”

  After another half dozen breaths, Ketch scooped up Robin and the food basket and rose slowly, towering over the white man by several inches. He didn’t look away from his eyes once until he had pushed past him and began striding up the aisle. Lizzie followed behind, overflowing with pride—for Ketch’s indomitable spirit as well as the sacrifice he made for the safety of his family.

  Ketch pushed out of the car led them to the two sootiest cars nearest the engine. Both were outdated models, with ripped upholstery and an undercarriage construction that caused the car to sway when Ketch stepped onto the stairs. Here, every passenger was black.

  As they settled into their new compartment, Lizzie sneaked a kiss on his cheek.

  “What’s dat fo’?”

  She just shrugged and gave him a sly smile.

  They traveled without incident for the rest of the day and got off in Cleveland hours later, where they would make their final connection. Lizzie rose, catching a hand against her aching back. Ketch suddenly pulled her back into the seat. His breath whispered against her ear. “Dey’s lawmen outside stoppin’ every Negro gettin’ off.”

  Lizzie’s heart began to pound. She grabbed his arm. “What can we do?”

  Ketch pursed his lips. “We gunna split up. If dey lookin’ fo’ us, dey gunna ’spect us all together. You take de boys an’ go out de back door; I’ll take de food an’ go out de front. We’ll meet up later, after I fetch de luggage.”

  Lizzie nodded. With her heart in her throat, she made a pretense of checking Larkin’s diaper and gathering her belongings, all while watching Ketch’s departure out of the corner of her eye. A single police officer stopped each arriving passenger, asked for papers, checked the women’s faces against one image and the men’s against another. Slowly, he let each individual pass. Three people still remained between him and Ketch when a porter approached Lizzie. “You getting off, ma’am?”

  She yelped in surprise.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” The porter was young, no more than twenty. “You just look like you could use some help.”

  Lizzie was startled to see she was the only disembarking passenger remaining in the compartment. Everyone else was seated, watching her curiously as they waited for the train to move on. She felt her face heat. “As a matter o’ fact, I could use a hand.” She passed him the knapsack filled with Robin’s books. “If you could carry dis…” Hoisting the baby, she grabbed Robin by one hand and directed him off the train, the porter close on her heels.

  There was no one left in the line at the back door, only a heavyset officer with thinning gray hair. He nodded to her and had begun to speak when she thrust Larkin into his hands. “Will you hold him please, jus’ fo’ a moment?”

  Without waiting for his response, she turned to the porter to reclaim her bag. “Thank you so much,” she began and bobbled the knapsack as she flung the strap over her shoulder. The contents spilled onto the platform. As she knelt to retrieve them, she knocked heads with the porter, who bent at the same moment.

  He helped ease her into a sitting position. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  Lizzie pressed a palm to her forehead. The tears welling in her eyes were entirely from nervousness. “I’ll be fine.”

  He picked up the books and handed them to Robin. “Think you can carry this for your mama?”

  Robin nodded solemnly.

  Then he helped Lizzie to her feet.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’ know what’s wrong wid me today. I feel so silly.” She let herself sway slightly.

  He steadied her. “Are you sure you’re all right, ma’am?”

  “I—I do feel a little faint. I wonder if you would help me find somewhere to sit?”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  The officer, who had stood by uncomfortably during the entire encounter, passed Larkin back without even asking for Lizzie’s papers.

  She smiled at the men. “Thank you both so much.” Then taking Robin by his free hand, she let the young porter lead her into the depot. He helped her to a seat just inside the door.

  “Would you do one more thing fo’ me?” she asked. “Find out when our train leaves fo’ Detroit
?”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  As soon as he strode away, Lizzie leaped up, her head swiveling to locate Ketch. After a few breathless moments, she spotted him retrieving Daisy from the pile of baggage being off-loaded from the train. Her receding anxiety left her knees weak, and she sank back into her seat.

  Ketch had made it past the authorities, as well.

  5

  Nothing ever looked as welcome as the dingy red bricks of the Detroit depot. Though it was early April—comfortable, even sultry back in Charleston—Lizzie was glad for her warm clothing. She pulled her cloak tight against the frigid air that had chilled the train car clear through then settled a red woolen cap on Robin’s head. Jane had knit one for each boy. It was the identifying signal Julia and Malachi would look for to locate them.

  Taking Robin’s hand, Lizzie followed Ketch and Larkin off the train. There were no officers checking papers. Only the rank smell of coal smoke, the crush of the crowd, and the pervading cold. Still, she felt too open. Too vulnerable. The threat of capture had followed them doggedly from Charleston. Now with freedom so close, the danger felt more palpable. “You see ’em?” she asked nervously.

  “Don’ know who I be lookin’ fo’. But I know how dey can find us.” Thrusting Larkin into her hands, he swung Robin onto his broad shoulders where the boy’s cap flashed like a lighthouse beacon high above the other passengers. Sure enough, within moments they were approached by two Negroes, a middle-aged woman and a young man perhaps eighteen years of age.

  The young man stuck out his hand. “Ketch and Lizzie? I’m Malachi Watson, and this is my mother, Julia.”

  “It’s mighty fine to meet you,” Ketch replied.

  “I reckon you all be freezin’,” Julia said. A puff of vapor accompanied her words and drifted away like smoke from the train’s smokestack. “Malachi, help fetch de baggage and let’s get dese babies someplace warm an’ safe.”

  Ketch swung Robin down. Lizzie took his hand, and Julia guided them off the platform.