Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (39 page)

“As difficult as it will be and as complex
the burden before me, I will go away with you. I will walk out on
my duties and become a deserter. We will have to hide away, and
live in the shadows until the end of this atrocious war. It will
not be easy, and I’m sure we are destined for troubled times. I
will make it work. I will find a way.”

He walked me to my room, dismissing my
soldier escort. He quickly leaned into me, placed a soft kiss on my
lips, whispered that I needed to trust him and that he loved me.
Then he handed me the key to my room and stole away before anyone
could see us.

Sleep had no claim on me for the remainder of
the night. I lay on my bed with a lasting smile on my face. Patrick
Garrett Arrington loved me! He loved me more now than ever. He was
going to steal me away, run away with me and make a new life for us
and the baby I carried. I no longer doubted in God, and I believed
the devil hadn’t a hold on me any longer. I now trusted that I just
might have a good chance at life, and that I wouldn’t die the way
my mother had. For she must have died for Patrick and me. Finally,
there was a reason for her to have been taken away so long ago. Her
life wasn’t insignificant; her death was not in vain. Charlotte’s
memory would live on; her love would live on through me.

That morning, I gathered a small bag and
packed some essential articles for our escape. I went through my
armoire. When I removed my journal, I sat in the chair by the
window and began to read it for the last time. Page upon page I
turned, as my thoughts were transported back for what I believed
would be the last time. I tried to capture my emotions as I relived
them in my own words, and I tried to remember what it felt like to
be hugged by Daddy and the way his soft eyes would fall onto me
when I was a little girl, before he married Eugenia. Oh, how I had
loved my daddy. He was my world, and after he married Eugenia
Norton, it was never, ever the same between us. There was an ache
in my heart that would never heal.

When I came upon entries regarding Perry
Montgomery, I became heavy hearted. His death was untimely, and so
tragic. He was a most handsome man, and I would never forget the
love we shared, even if it was for only a night - a night that
changed my life forever.

I closed my journal and placed it on the
table.

While in my melancholy mood, I softly
caressed my belly and gazed down, wondering if the baby was a boy
or a girl. I hadn’t thought about it before. Not even once. Now,
with my newfound optimism on life, I longed to have this child.
Would he or she have my color hair? And Perry’s dark eyes? If the
baby was a boy, I secretly hoped he would be just has handsome as
his father. I also hoped Patrick could love this baby as his own.
In our hasty reunion, I’d failed to ask him. This child needed a
father. I hoped he would take on the role without reservation.

I fell deep into my own thoughts as the
morning progressed. I paid little attention to the soldier who
delivered my small plate of food, or to all the activity that
surrounded Sutton Hall. It was only the sound of a crash in one of
the rooms down the hall that snapped me out of my daydreams.

I unlocked my door and peeked down the hall.
There was a fight in Warren’s room. I heard Warren and Patrick
arguing as punches were thrown, and furniture was toppling.

The lieutenant who guarded my door ran to
help, and four other soldiers followed. Even Eugenia came to see
what all the commotion was about.

“Your general is trying to kill me!” Warren
screamed. “Someone stop him!”

“What’s going on?” Eugenia asked.

“Ladies, go back to your rooms,” one soldier
ordered.

“I will not! This is my home! You cannot
order me around!”

“Come along, ma’am,” he said firmly, and he
took her by the arm. I stepped back into my room and closed the
door, remaining with my ear pressed against it, listening to what
was happening.

“This is my home!” Eugenia continued to yell.
“You Yankees have no right!”

Following her outburst came hollering from
Warren. The parade of footsteps went past my door.

“Amelia, Amelia!” he desperately cried
out.

I cracked the door open and watched as
Patrick and the lieutenant dragged him off. Warren tried to fight
them, but the effort was futile. I let out a heavy sigh and eased
the door closed once again.

~ ~ ~

Patrick came to me late that same night.

“We have to go. We only have a small window
of time,” he whispered.

“I have to say goodbye to Hattie and Mammy
and Hamilton. I can’t leave without saying goodbye!”

“There is no time.”

“Please!” I implored.

I was ready to go; I had my bag packed and my
journal in hand. I had said a private goodbye to the only home I
had known. I had no doubt that I would never see Sutton Hall
again.

He reluctantly agreed, but warned me that we
were in great danger.

“You understand what is about to happen here?
You have to follow my lead and keep up. I know in your condition it
will be difficult, but I am here to help.”

“Take me to Hattie.”

We didn’t waste another moment. Patrick held
my hand and led me down the dark hall where, to my surprise, there
were no soldiers guarding the rooms, and on to the back stairway.
Once we were outside, he made sure the coast was clear, and we
rushed to the cabin that Mammy, Hattie, and Hamilton called
home.

“Where are all the soldiers?” I whispered as
we stepped onto the front porch.

“I sent half of my men into the surrounding
areas and a few back to Savannah. The remainder are locked away.
Eugenia is there as well. I couldn’t risk her exposing our
escape.”

“Locked away?”

“Warren is keeping guard.”

“What!”

“I made a deal with him.”

“Making a deal with Warren is like making a
deal with the devil!” I exclaimed.

He looked at me before we entered the cabin
with exasperation. “I had no choice. I granted him his freedom,
freedom from certain execution, in exchange for our freedom. I made
the Union men believe I was locking him away in the wine cellar
while we turned the tables, so to speak, and locked them away. He
is guarding them for exactly one hour. Then he will flee.”

Mammy, Hattie, and Hamilton sat with their
eyes fixed on the door, as if they had been expecting our arrival
at any time. I ran to Mammy first, falling into her embrace. “Oh,
Mammy, I will miss you. Won’t you consider coming with us?”

Neither Hamilton, Mammy, nor Hattie wanted to
leave.

“Don’t be crying for me, Miss Amelia. You
gone and grown up, right before my eyes. You have your whole life
ahead of you now. Gonna be a momma. Don’t be frettin’ no more,” She
stroked my long hair. “I need to stay here, to look after my Jacob
Thomas. And Hamilton, he stays here to look after me. Hattie . . .”
She turned to look over to where Hattie now stood by Patrick.
“Hattie will go in time. When she can make a new life for herself
in a free country. Ain’t time yet.”

I eased back and briskly dried my wet face
with the handkerchief Patrick offered.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,
Mammy. I love you.” I choked and kissed her cheek. Mammy closed her
woeful eyes and subtly nodded in understanding.

I went to Hamilton next. He painstakingly
knelt down and hugged me, careful not to squeeze me too tight with
his giant arms. His eyes spoke volumes. I could see they were
filled with genuine love for me.

“You take care, Hamilton. I won’t forget you
either,” I whispered in his ear, then placed a quick kiss on his
scruffy cheek.

There were not enough words for me to express
to Hattie the love I had for her, my only sister. Though we did not
share the same heritage, family blood, or color of skin, she would
always be dear to my heart and a sister, no matter.

I handed her my journal. “Keep it safe,
Hattie. Keep my words, thoughts, and dreams a secret until we meet
again.”

“I will,” she sniffled, and we hugged tight.
“Until we meet again.”

“We have to go now,” Patrick said, and he
pried me from Hattie. “There is little time.”

I couldn’t contain my sobs as Patrick hurried
me on, guiding me so I wouldn’t trip and fall in the warm, dark
night, to where his horse was tied to a tree waiting, saddled up
and packed for our long journey.

“It’s more difficult to leave than I
imagined,” I cried.

He comforted me for a moment. “This is what
you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I choked, “of course.”

Patrick held me close as I nuzzled my face
against his chest, wetting his shirt with my tears. His touch was
tender as he lightly rested his chin a top of my head. Then
suddenly, he went stiff and sucked in his breath; he swiftly shoved
himself in front of me, protecting me. Warren approached us, his
musket aimed at Patrick.

“I think we need to talk,” Warren said. “Just
Amelia and me.”

“Amelia has no business with you. Leave as
you agreed!”

“She has everything to do with me!” Warren
barked. “She is carrying my child.”

“I am taking her away with me. Be off with
you,” Patrick replied, and without his eyes ever leaving Warren, he
eased me up onto the horse.

“I will shoot you dead, Patrick. I swear I
will if you don’t give her to me,” Warren said as he inched
closer.

In an instant, Patrick pulled out his
revolver from the saddle bag and pointed it at Warren.

“Amelia wants nothing to do with a snake like
you. After what you’ve done to her, I should fire a shot straight
between your eyes.”

The two stood in a face-off, only inches
apart, guns pointed and ready to fire. I feared Patrick would be
killed, so I spoke, hoping to disengage the conflict - the fight
for me.

“This isn’t your baby. I lied to you all
along. I’m carrying Patrick’s child.”

Warren’s stare remained on Patrick, his hand
firm and resolute, willing to shoot.

“You’re lying.”

“I speak the truth. Eugenia knows. Go and ask
her!”

“It’s true, Warren. Go now. You have no ties
to Amelia.”

Warren stood looking confused. He tried to
fight the urge to look at me with his disturbed eyes. “You’re
carrying your brother’s baby?” he spat, his voice laced with
repugnance.

“What is between Amelia and me is none of
your business.”

“You sick bastard!”

“You are one to talk! You raped her!”

“It wasn’t rape. Your sister is not the
innocent girl she pretends to be. She came to me, to my bed. She
wanted me.”

“That’s not true!” I gasped. “Stop
lying!”

“Time and time again. She wasn’t with child.
I would have known, for she let me kiss every inch of her
body.”

How dare he lie! “You slipped me sleeping
powders. You know what you did!”

“Come down off the horse, Amelia,” he
insisted, locked eyes with mine and reached for me. “Now before I
shoot your iniquitous lover right before your eyes.”

Warren’s slight mistake of looking to me
instead of Patrick left him lying on the ground, unconscious.
Patrick knocked him out, striking him across the face with the
pistol.

“I could have killed him, but there has been
enough bloodshed. We will be gone before he comes to.”

I sat uncomfortably in the saddle with my
back against Patrick and his one arm holding me while the other
held the reins, as the horse sped off into the night.

He had planned a nearly flawless escape. We
were on our way just as the Confederates swarmed the plantation.
The clash began - the battle to take Sutton Hall. Canons and
muskets nearly drowned out the verbal tumult.

The ground shook beneath us, spooking the
horse. Patrick kept the horse under control and urged him on,
though I feared us both falling and tumbling to the ground.

“Hold on tight!” he shouted, and kicked the
horse into a full gallop as we reached the road.

I wondered if we would make our escape. I
feared we would be caught by either side. Patrick had now betrayed
both sides in the war, and if captured by the Confederates or the
Union, his fate was sealed. I worried as we miraculously stole out
of Savannah without being stopped. We feared for our lives every
time we camped in a desolate part of the woods for a brief
reprieve.

He explained that he had a contact in New
York, a friend who would take us in without question. “Adam Higgins
has been a good friend of mine since I was a child. He and I came
to America together. His wife is Betsy.”

We spent most days riding through the
dangerous countryside, not knowing what enemy or skirmish we might
encounter. In the nights we remained hidden, camping out in the
cold woods. Occasionally we had the good fortune to make a
successful bribe and were able to sleep in some compassionate
family’s house for the night. I brought along all of Perry’s money,
which was a substantial amount. If Patrick felt it was safe enough,
he would take a chance and offer some money to the strangers for a
hot meal and warm bed.

Patrick always introduced us as Mrs. and Mrs.
Sutton. They believed us to be husband and wife, with a baby on the
way.

“I’m seven months along,” I would explain,
though Patrick warned me not to reveal too much. He had shaved his
moustache and wore Daddy’s civilian clothes; he resembled nothing
of the general he once was.

The strangers we infrequently stayed with
asked few questions, and I suspected they knew we were on the run.
In fact, one elderly couple told us they were in the business of
helping runaway slaves and that they had participated in the
Underground Railroad.

The journey was exhausting, and I sometimes
believed we would never make it to New York. Patrick never
complained and tried hard to keep me comfortable, though it grew
increasingly difficult as the weeks dragged by. The nights were
cold and damp, and it was nearly unbearable to sleep on the hard
ground with the baby growing so large inside me. We were constantly
hungry. In the end, we knew we had made the right decision, never
once questioning our love and all the sacrifices that came with
it.