Blessing (23 page)

Her refusal to quench his curiosity annoyed him—but he’d expected evasion. That this woman might be involved in the Underground Railroad again suggested itself to him. But Gerard didn’t want to delve into her radical activities, especially if they broke federal law. Surely Blessing would not do that. Regardless, she owed him the truth of what had happened that strange night. “I will not stop asking you until you tell me.”

She didn’t reply immediately. “I think it’s best thee not know the facts.” She spoke so low, he had to focus intently
on her voice, shutting all else out. “Then thee can maintain ignorance. Mr. Smith may suspect that I had something to do with his . . . loss, but I have provided him no evidence connecting me to it. Yet I remain on my guard, as thee should.” In spite of her serious words, she waved to the children and called encouragement as they chased each other around the garden, giggling and shrieking.

He chewed on her words, disgruntled. “Very well, for now. But sometime in the future I will demand to know the truth.”

“Agreed. Again, would thee like to borrow my copy of Frederick Douglass’s book?”

Her insistence grated on his nerves. “Why would I want to borrow a book I have no interest in reading?”

She met his gaze. “I thought after hearing James Bradley speak, thee might want to know more of slavery.”

“What does any of that have to do with me, with you?” Gerard asked, returning his gaze to the playing children. “Why do you care so much?”

“How can I not care when so many suffer?”

He didn’t know how to answer her. Of course there was great suffering in this world, but that wasn’t going to change. One person’s effort to right wrongs amounted to spitting into the ocean. Some emotion he couldn’t identify roiled up inside him. “Don’t you ever think about having a life of your own?” he snapped.

“I have a life, a full one.”

He knew that he was flirting dangerously with wanting more of this audacious woman in his life. The idea was out of the question. She was clearly not a candidate for a discreet
affair, and he wanted no wife. So they could share nothing more than . . . friendship. That in itself was an astounding idea. Men and women didn’t become friends. Or did they?

He glanced at her. “Are we friends?”

Blessing laughed. “What a scandalous idea,” she teased. “What will people say?”

He shrugged. He’d tried to shore up his defenses, but this unique woman could not be dismissed. “I hear we will be attending a wedding soon.”

“Yes,” Blessing said, her voice suddenly subdued.

“I am best man.” His tone matched hers.

“I am matron of honor.”

Silence ensued until Blessing spoke again. “I would like to invite thee to listen to another unusual speaker who is presently traveling around Ohio. And is scheduled to give an address at Lane Seminary.”

Gerard felt the corners of his mouth lifting of their own will. He tried to imagine a more provocative speaker than James Bradley. “Let me guess. A radical suffragist?”

“Yes.”

He drew in air sharply and shook his head at her nerve. “Why not?”

Going to listen to another speaker like Bradley definitely wouldn’t bore him, and it would give him a reason to spend an evening with Blessing. Still, even with these ulterior motives, he sensed a shifting inside him, a realignment. The feeling was alarming yet invigorating. He’d never experienced anything like it and was unsure whether he wanted to.

B
LESSING ESCORTED
G
ERARD
R
AMSAY
from the orphanage in time for his luncheon at Prudence Mather’s and a few appointments with prospective clients in the afternoon. After some prodding, the children lined up to go in for their meal. Blessing rose to go inside too but found Joanna blocking her way. Instead of entering with the children, Joanna had let the other nursemaid direct their charges.

“What is it, Joanna?” Blessing asked.

Joanna bowed her head as if praying and then looked up. “I have something hard to say.”

At her friend’s unusual demeanor, Blessing stilled, apprehensive. Resuming her seat, she patted the now-empty wicker chair beside hers. “Sit and tell me.” But she really didn’t want any more sobering or distressing news.

Joanna accepted her invitation. By now, the garden was
quiet with just the two of them, the southbound Canada geese honking overhead, and the chickadees chittering in the trees. Fall had come, and the leaves were just starting to show red edges.

“I am getting married soon,” Joanna said, not looking at her.

“Asher?” Blessing named the young man who’d been courting her friend. She kept her tone light, but her tension increased. What she’d dreaded was coming true.

“Yes. He can finally support a wife, and he wants me with him.”

“I understand.” Leaden sadness weighed down Blessing’s heart. “I’ll miss having thee here every day.”

“That’s not all.”

Blessing waited, wondering, her heart skipping.

“We’re moving to Canada.”

The words struck Blessing, a heart blow. “Canada?” she murmured, thoughts racing.

“Yes. Asher wants our children safe from kidnappers and catchers, so they can grow up in a place where their freedom isn’t always in question. He’s saved enough to buy us land and already has his team and plow. He’s decided we shouldn’t wait. We plan to marry next week and then go to Canada before winter and get settled. After we arrive, we’ll hire out and find land to buy before spring planting time.”

“That is a good plan.” This unwelcome change ruffled through Blessing like the wind through the pages of an open book. “It’s just so sudden.”

“I know. I thought we’d wait till next year, but the riot . . . Asher is ready to leave and I must follow.”

Blessing couldn’t argue with that. She didn’t blame Asher for wanting to protect his future family. “I will miss thee.”

“I know. I missed you when you married.” The sadness in Joanna’s tone distressed Blessing.

She rested a hand on Joanna’s arm, sorting through what she should say, what words she wanted to speak. She should just be honest, she knew. Her mother always quoted Shakespeare at times like this:
“Truth will out.”
She drew in a breath. “Joanna, I missed thee too.”

“I wasn’t much welcome in your house when your husband lived. I’ve always wondered why. Will you tell me now?” Joanna met her gaze.

Blessing closed her eyes against the past.

“I’ve carried a hurt over that ever since,” Joanna continued. “I want to clear it up before we part, maybe for the rest of our lives. Will you tell me, please?”

Blessing quieted her nerves as much as she could. Just recalling one of the occasions Joanna had come to visit her and Richard was enough to shake her. The entire time, she’d been afraid Joanna might guess that Richard was upstairs sleeping off another drunken night.

“Joanna, there was a reason I kept my distance from thee and my family back then.” She mustered her courage. “My marriage was not a happy one.”

Sounds expanded around them: people walking past the garden fence, two squirrels chirruping in an argument over acorns, the clopping of horse hooves.

“You didn’t act happy,” Joanna agreed. “We all knew something was wrong. But you pushed us away.”

The old hurt and suffering swirled inside Blessing, an ache
that could still rob her peace. “I’d wed him against the counsel of my parents and had gone against the elders, been put out of the meeting. Too soon I realized I’d made a disastrous choice, but I had already married. I couldn’t change that. I had promised to stay for better or worse.” That awful feeling of being trapped in a box with no exit washed over her.

“You could have come home,” Joanna said.

“No, I couldn’t. Richard was my husband. It was a complicated situation.” She saw before her eyes Richard’s recurring bouts of remorse and repentance. No doubt it was during one of these that out of guilt he’d willed his property to her and unwittingly given her the wherewithal to do God’s will in helping others. The personal pain and self-recrimination still held, though. Why had she always believed he would change? “I loved him.” At first. But then . . .

“I’ve wanted to talk to you about this many times, but you have ever held back about your marriage.”

Blessing faced Joanna. She wanted to deny this but paused before speaking. “Hiding the truth about my marriage,” she said slowly, “became a habit. But my affection for thee has never faltered, even when we were distant. We were raised together. Joanna, I understand thy desire to leave this place, where thy skin color always stands against thee—”

“Asher and I know we’ll face prejudice in Canada too, but . . .”

Blessing nodded her sympathy. “But I have been so happy to have thee here at the orphanage with me.” She took Joanna’s hand. “Thank thee.”

“I have loved working with the children and with you—being a part of this good place.” Joanna gripped Blessing’s
hand in return. “But it’s time for me to have my own children. Asher and I have waited long enough.”

Blessing nodded, at first unable to speak. Joanna’s words brought to mind the special bond she felt with her latest orphan. “I must tell thee before thee leaves—I am going to adopt Daniel Lucas.”

“Why do you always talk like you won’t ever marry again? You’re still young.”

Blessing shook her head. “I’ll not marry a second time.” Memories of her husband crowded around her, as menacing as the mob that had gathered at her gate. She stood. “Tell me about thy wedding plans.” She led Joanna to the house, holding the past at bay.

NOVEMBER 10, 1848

Gerard entered the familiar Lane Seminary auditorium, alight with lamps and candles against the early autumn darkness, and as before, he walked beside Blessing Brightman. Again, the audience, composed of both genders, caused him an odd feeling of displacement. But he’d come because Blessing had invited him and because his attendance at the James Bradley lecture had made the Cincinnati papers from which his father kept tabs on him. He recalled how incensed his father had been over Gerard’s merely being seen in Seneca Falls last July and found himself suppressing a smile. However, at the back of his mind niggled the thought that such a motive smacked of immaturity.
I’ve also come tonight because I want to hear what’s said.

This evening even more people than before turned to
watch them enter. Gerard was struck by the startling realization that he almost wished the gossip about himself and Blessing were true.

Blessing halted and exchanged a few words with an older woman. As always, his lovely companion stood out as an oddity in the room. Dressed plainly but expensively, she was a dove among crows.

As the two women conversed, once more Gerard wondered about Smith’s mistress—where she was now. He didn’t believe for a moment that the woman was still at “number three.” On a few occasions, he’d been tempted to visit that house and see what he could find out there. But caution held him back. He would do nothing to endanger that poor woman or Blessing.

The older woman embraced Blessing and went to sit farther ahead.

Blessing turned and dazzled Gerard with a genuine smile. “Ohio has been chosen to host the second women’s rights convention in 1850. I will be working along with several of the women here to arrange everything.”

Gerard tried not to react. Another women’s rights convention? Wasn’t one enough? “I see,” he said.

His cautious tone set her chuckling. She swept into the next aisle and sat down.

He followed, shaking his head.

“Is that why thee comes with me?” she asked. “Because I am so different, so radical?”

Gerard drew in breath and again shook his head at her. Indeed that wasn’t the reason. He accompanied her in spite of this. She was becoming sunlight to him. He craved her
presence. She had made his stale life interesting. He couldn’t countenance marriage for himself, but they had become . . . friends. Mentally he took a step back. This was still alien territory for him. A man and woman becoming friends—unheard of.

He was saved from replying more fully to her question by the introduction of the first speakers. Two men addressed the gathering briefly—neither of them as inflammatory as Gerard had expected. But when the main speaker walked out onto the platform, Gerard’s mouth opened involuntarily.