Promise Bridge (37 page)

I sank across the bench seat and curled into myself like a child. I am not certain how long I drifted in a state of confused disbelief before sinking into the darkness of utter despair, but I was no longer aware of the passing of night or day. Truth be told, I no longer cared.

Chapter 38

M
y clothes were dampened by the drizzle of a weepy morning. With arm and head resting on the window frame of the coach, I let the rain spatter my face until the familiar twist of the oak trees along the roadside coaxed me from my stupor. My heart lifted and then wrenched as the road ahead sloped into the emerald valley nestling Promise Bridge. Wisps of smoke swirled from the chimney of each simple cabin, a sight that greeted us like an oasis in a dark abyss. Sadly, the scene brought no relief for the ache in my heart. As we descended into the bosom of the town, Raizy emerged from her cabin and threw her arms up when she saw us coming down the hill. She ran the path to Livie’s door and shouted our arrival. Livie burst through the doorway, followed by Esther Mae and Elijah. I leapt from the carriage and ran the distance between us. Seeing my urgency, Livie rushed up the hillside toward me, where she caught me in her arms. She asked no questions, but held tightly to me as I wept. Looking over my shoulder, she saw her husband was safe, but when a low moan rose from her, I knew she understood her beloved brother had not returned.

James put his huge arms around us. He respected our need for tears before steadying us with his calm words. “Let’s go inside to warm ourselves. Gatherin’ with loved ones is de only recipe I know for easin’ de pain of a sorrowful day.”

James was right. I found immeasurable comfort the moment we entered Marcus’s cabin and were surrounded by so many caring friends. I held tightly to Livie’s hand, knowing her pain ran as deep and sharp as mine. The group nodded sympathetically when I insisted we should not assume the worst. “Marcus said we should keep our eyes on the horizon. If delayed, they will follow us home.”

Their sad smiles did little to disguise their doubt or lift my confidence. I was dizzy with exhaustion. My last conscious thought was of Livie wrapping me in a blanket and pulling me close.

The next morning, I awoke to the aroma of ashcakes baking in the hearth. Esther Mae had stayed with me in Marcus’s cabin, in part because the cabin the townsmen were building for Winston’s family had not been completed. I also suspected she wanted to watch over me as I came to terms with what had transpired.

“After you rest a day or two,” Esther Mae said, handing me a cup of tea, “Winston will find out where de nearest stagecoach passes, and we’ll get you on yo’ way home.”

I set the cup aside, unwilling to accept the finality of her suggestion. I immediately went to find Livie. Tears crested my eyes when I saw her working in her garden. Livie paused when she saw me.

“Hey, girl,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her moist forehead. “Thought I would pass some time turnin’ the garden bed.”

I picked up a hoe and tilled the soil in the row next to her. “Granny always said busy hands are the best cure for a busy mind.”

“I know what you mean, girl,” she said, immersing herself in the physical outlet we both needed to expend our bulging emotions. “Best to keep busy so our low-down thoughts can’t root too deep.”

I scratched at the earth, but it did not prevent my heart from spilling over. Within seconds, I was halted by a sentiment that needed to be spoken. Feeling my eyes upon her, Livie stopped and looked up. Instantly, I unraveled like a tumbling ball of yarn.

“Livie, I am so sorry.”

Before I could speak another word, Livie dropped her hoe and stepped into my arms. She hugged me tightly and whispered, “Don’t you say such a thing, Hannah. Don’t you even think it.”

We held on to each other, sharing our heartbreak. We understood each other’s pain, seeking comfort and giving support within our embrace.
My dear friend. My trusted companion.
Our relationship had changed my life in more ways than I could count, and together again we turned to each other as we faced the unknown.

After a moment, Livie eased her grip as if distracted by something over my shoulder. She took a step back, staring toward the road that dropped into town. “Looky yonder,” she said, squinting into the sun. “Who is that comin’ down the hill?”

I turned and saw a buckboard pulled by a lone horse barely able to plod its hooves down the dirt path. A man sat hunched over the reins, the brim of his hat tugged low on his brow. Mending a fence nearby, Winston and James set down their hammers and walked toward the road where it entered town. We hurried after them, but they picked up their pace as if realizing the figure ahead was no stranger. I rushed to join them when I recognized the cut of Marcus’s hat. Closing the distance, I grew doubtful, because the build of the man was not as broad as that of Marcus. I slowed with disappointment until his head lifted to reveal gold-flecked brown eyes glistening with tears.

“Colt!” I burst into a full sprint, my feet stumbling to keep pace with my racing heart. “Colt!” His name desperately spilled from me over and over as I ran toward him.

He leaned from the wagon seat and tumbled into Winston’s arms. “Easy does it, Mista Colt. I got you.”

No sooner had Winston pulled him upright than Colt looked up and saw me running toward him. The wince of his brow told me he was battling tears, but our gazes connected and bound us like a lifeline neither wanted to release. At full stride, I threw myself in his arms, and if not for Winston bracing us, we would have toppled over onto the ground. The feel of his arms around me, and he within mine, burst tears and laughter from me with dizzying elation. His gaunt frame wobbled, and I realized he was seriously injured. I softened to steady him, all the while stroking his cheeks and pulling him closer.

“I knew there was hope for you and Marcus!” I exclaimed as I stroked my fingers through his curls, needing to caress him to believe he was not a daydream. “No one could convince me otherwise. If there was an avenue of escape, I knew the two of you would find it. Did Marcus continue south to begin his next freedom run?”

Colt leaned against me, his expression gray with exhaustion. With my assistance, he limped to Livie and hugged her gently. His mouth remained pulled tight in silence when he reached out and shook James’s hand. Both men were somber as Colt turned back to me with deep sorrow puddled in his eyes. My gaze was drawn beyond him to the rear wagon bed, where an oblong pine box was secured with ropes. James gathered Livie in his arms as she sniffled against his chest. Colt took my hand and led me to the side of the buckboard. He placed his hand on the corner of the pine box and spoke softly.

“I brought him home so he can be buried in the free soil of Promise Bridge, where at the end of his long, courageous journey, Marcus can rest in peace. For all he has done to give that gift to others, he deserves to lie down a free man.”

Warm tears streaked my face. Colt removed the hat he was wearing, which did indeed belong to Marcus, and handed it to me. “Here is a physical remembrance that may offer a degree of comfort.”

His sentiment confused me, but he was clearly in a shattered state. When Livie stepped to my side, I gave her the hat and wrapped her in my arms.

Livie pressed Marcus’s hat against her breast and let her tears flow. Resting my head against her heaving shoulders, I was thankful Marcus was home. Deep inside, we feared this moment would someday come; the risks of his conviction made it inevitable. But I was not ashamed to admit that the shock of sudden loss was numbing.

Suddenly, Colt’s legs wilted beneath him and he collapsed with a groaning thud. Winston and James scooped him from the ground and moved him into the cabin. “Be gentle with him,” I implored as we settled his dangling limbs onto the bed. “Elijah, please bring me some water from the well and any poultice your mother has on hand.”

Caring for Colt brought me momentary solace as grief enveloped Promise Bridge. His injuries were numerous, but my experience during the flood had given me knowledge of how to stabilize his broken arm, and lance severely infected wounds left untreated while he’d been imprisoned at the militia camp. Unfortunately, I had no medicine to ease his fever or pain, nor had I training to diagnose his internal maladies. Colt remained unconscious and in a fragile condition. Dozing in the rocker next to his bed, I kept vigil through the night so I would be near if he stirred or reached out. The following morning, Livie found me curled next to Colt as she entered the cabin. She wore a simple black dress and head wrap. She did her best to remain stoic, but heartbreak spilled from her eyes.

“We are burying Marcus in the upper meadow. If you want to join us, Elijah and Lillabelle will sit with Colt.”

I gathered her in my arms and squeezed her to me. I fought back guilt and remorse for the outcome that had taken her brother’s life. I loved and respected her too much to allow my feelings to eclipse her sorrow. We walked to the top of the hill, along with James and a congregation of townsfolk. The pine box had already been lowered into a grave dug by Winston and Letchworth Lamar. I had met Letchworth only once, the first day I arrived at Promise Bridge. I remembered him clearly because his demeanor had been so angry and standoffish. Today was no different. He leaned against his shovel, his eyes fixed on me like I was an unwelcome intruder.

“Why are there two holes?” Livie asked. I looked past Letchworth and saw the second grave in the far shadows of a willow.

“I figured I would save myself the trouble of digging again tomorrow,” Letchworth said as his eyes bore into mine.

“Letch!” James scolded. “This ain’t the time or place for your spiteful nonsense. We is here to show respect for Marcus, and to the cause that led each of us to freedom.”

I chilled to the bone at the sight of the grave meant for Colt. Winston touched a comforting hand on my shoulder as he stepped forward and asked if he could speak a few words in honor of Marcus.

“I didn’t know dis here fellow more than a couple o’ weeks,” he began, hat in hand. “But I sure do know the kind of man he was. Marcus believed in the promise of tomorrow. Every soul standing here will carry a piece o’ dat hope into the new lives we are building without the burden of whip or chain. Ain’t always gonna be easy nor fair, but Marcus showed us dat livin’ fo’ the right o’ things can move us all in a better direction. They say winds are a-changin’, and war might set our people free. I don’t know nothin’ about such things. But I know dat women and men like Marcus, who have stood prideful and showed what we is made of, have already won a battle fo’ each of us standin’ here, breathin’ the sweet air of freedom. We owe it to him and to ourselves to live a life worthy of his sacryfice. From now on, when one of our own is searchin’ the night sky fo’ signs of the Promised Land, ol’ Marcus is gonna be up there, pointin’ the way home.”

Livie took my hand in hers. She smiled through her tears, and then raised our hands into the air. Winston took my other hand and did the same. I wept as the chain of joined hands reached to Esther Mae, James, Raizy, Corine, and farther down the line of mourners, each one raising connected hands. Not everyone joined in our promise bridge or understood its meaning, but that would be a challenge for another day.

Letchworth Lamar stood apart from the group. As the crowd whispered final prayers and began to disperse, he waved his arms to halt them. “Now, I got some words to say, and ya’ll better heed my warning. There is a half-dead man in Marcus’s cabin. Whether he’s friend or foe don’t matter. His presence . . .” Letchworth paused, and then pointed a wicked finger in my direction. “
Their
presence is a threat to every one of us, and to the town as a whole. The grave you weep over is proof of my words. Patrollers are likely trackin’ them. Do you want slave hunters led to your doorstep because of two rogue buckra? I say, Send them on their way. They don’t belong here!”

“Letch,” James said in my defense. “You are speakin’ words of hate. We got nothin’ to fear from Colt and Hannah.”

“It’s not for you to decide,” Letchworth said in a booming voice that held the group’s attention. “Follow me, one and all, to the livery, where we can decide as a town whether to open our arms or protect our interests. Isn’t that what freedom allows us to do?”

The murmuring and awkward glances among the people signaled me to make my retreat. There was no change in Colt’s condition, and when Elijah and Lillabelle left the cabin, I knelt beside Colt’s bed and wept against his shoulder. I cried for all that was gained and for all that was lost and, lastly, for all that would never be. Exhausted, I surrendered to the stillness of sleep. After a short while, the door creaked behind me. My eyes did not open until a soft quilt was tucked around my shoulders. With caring hands, Livie smoothed the quilt that was born of Hillcrest and adorned with designs created by my mother. The comfort of home warmed me.

“Aren’t you attending the town meeting?” I asked as she knelt beside me.

“I said my piece. Now I feel the need to be with you.” Livie’s eyes glistened as she lifted my hand to her moist cheek, allowing me to touch her sorrow. “Why don’t the world know how to love?”

“I guess there are those still not ready to see the possibility of us living entwined as people, rather than parted as black or white,” I said, slipping my arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder. “But you and I know the blessing of it. And as the promise bridge, first extended by Marcus, joins with enough receiving hearts, the world will know the blessing too. His journey will never end, Liv. We will carry Marcus onward.”

Livie leaned in and kissed my cheek. We gently pressed our foreheads together, allowing our intimacy to speak words too painful to say. Eventually, she gazed upon Colt. “How is he?”

I shook my head to convey there was no change. “I cannot bear the thought of life without him. I want him to know how much I love him. If I could have him back, even if only for a moment, I would make certain he felt my love with every breath.”

“So tell him, Hannah,” Livie urged tenderly. “Make him feel your love.”

She motioned me toward Colt as she slipped out the door. I nudged up onto the bed and touched his hair, lightly at first, and then with deep, aching strokes. “Don’t you die, Colt. Don’t you let go now. I have loved you since the first time you rescued me from Twitch’s boyish teasing. Remember all those times you held my hand and soothed my heart when I ached for my mother or endured a scolding from Aunt Augusta? I shall never forget those moments. Your love and devotion helped me grow into the woman I am today, and this
woman
loves you, heart and soul. I am giving you the whole of my heart, just as you have always given me yours.”