There was a knock on the door.
Jojo. “Belle, are you all right?”
When Belle didn’t respond, Jojo took it upon herself to enter. Upon seeing Belle bent over in the chair with her legs stretched out, Jojo’s young eyes filled with alarm. “Belle?”
“I’m okay,” Belle said, plastering a smile on her now clean face.
Jojo didn’t buy it. Keeping one eye on Belle, Jojo called out anxiously, “Mama, something’s wrong with Belle.”
Mrs. Best appeared in the doorway. “Belle?”
“I didn’t mean to cry out, but my feet—”
Mrs. Best hastened in. “Let me see.”
“I’m okay.”
“Then let me see,” she echoed.
Belle knew she was no match for Jojo’s mama, so she slowly drew off the socks.
“My Lord!” the woman whispered emotionally. She looked up at Belle. “Why didn’t you say something? They must hurt like perdition.”
“They do,” Belle allowed, “but you’ve been so nice, I didn’t want—”
“Young lady, don’t ever hide this sort of thing from me again.”
Belle dropped her eyes.
All business now, Mrs. Best told her daughter, “Get your brother.”
Jojo left quickly and Mrs. Best knelt to look at Belle’s feet again. “You poor lamb, these’ll take time to heal. It’s a wonder you made it as far as you did.”
Daniel appeared. He looked concerned. “You wanted me?”
“Yes, I want you to carry Belle up to your grandmother’s room and then go get Bea Meldrum. Belle’s feet look like raw meat.”
Belle was mortified at the idea of being carried by Daniel. She’d never had a man carry her anywhere in her whole life. “Mrs. Best, if you’d just show me where the room is, I can walk—”
“No, you can’t,” she contradicted. “Come on, Daniel.”
His eyes caught Belle’s for a fraction of a second, then he strode forward. He hefted her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. She hesitated before putting her hands around his neck, but knowing it was necessary in order to hold on, she did.
Daniel was very conscious of the soft feel of her hands around his neck. Even though Belle was tall for a girl she didn’t weigh much; carrying her was easy. He could smell how clean she was and feel the warmth of her body against his chest. He didn’t look at her as he carried her through the front rooms and up the stairs to his grandmother’s old room. She was a lot prettier than he ever could’ve imagined beneath all that dirt, and he didn’t want to frighten her by staring; she was already shaking like a leaf.
“Put her there on the bed,” his mother instructed.
Daniel complied. He avoided looking into Belle’s dark eyes. “I—I’ll go and get Mrs. Meldrum.”
“Thank you. If she’s not at home, leave her a note telling her we need her assistance.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He forced himself to walk out of the room without looking back at the runaway named Belle.
After Daniel’s exit, Mrs. Best explained, “This was my mother-in-law’s room, but she died last year. While you’re here, it can be yours.”
Belle had never had a bedroom of her own. She’d always slept on a pallet on the floor in her mistress’s room. “Mrs. Best, I don’t need all this space—”
“Get under the covers. Jo, go downstairs and fetch her a bowl of that stew.”
Jo left.
“Now, you, under the covers.”
Belle surveyed Mrs. Best silently. She saw the determination in the woman’s eyes and decided to do as she was told. They could discuss this some other time. Belle got into the bed and was immediately overwhelmed by the luxury of clean, crisp sheets, soft, warm blankets and a mattress that wasn’t the cold, damp ground. After the small, bracing bowl of beef stew Jojo brought up, she felt even better.
Fed, she sighed contentedly, then handed the empty bowl to Jojo.
“You look real happy, Belle.”
Belle smiled tiredly. “I am, thanks to you and your family.”
“Get some sleep,” Mrs. Best said. “We’ll send Daniel out later to see about a set of free papers for you. For the time being you’ll be my niece.”
Belle thought she heard something about free papers and nieces but couldn’t be sure. She was already asleep.
two
Belle slowly came awake. When her eyes first opened she had no idea where she was or how she’d come to be in this bed. Then, as she saw the smiling Jojo seated in a chair by the window reading, she smiled in reply. “So, I didn’t dream you?”
“No. You’re here and you’re safe. It must’ve been awful having to run from the catchers like that.”
Belle thought back on that nightmare encounter in the trees. “It was.” The mounted catchers and their bloodhounds had descended on the small group of runaways like specters from hell. She shivered, remembering the people screaming, the dogs barking and the guns. She could still hear her father’s anguish-filled voice imploring her to run, and relived the terror that grabbed her once she realized they’d become separated and that she was alone. What had become of him?
Jojo’s soft voice brought her back. “I’m sorry, Belle. I’m supposed to be here making sure you’re okay, not making you sad.”
Belle shook off the memories. “It’s all right, Jojo. What day is it?”
“Wednesday. You’ve been asleep two whole days.”
Belle stared. “Two days?!” She flung back the covers and made a move to get up. “Your mother must think I’m the queen of the lazybones. My goodness, Jojo, why didn’t somebody wake me?”
But as soon as Belle saw the thick bandages swaddling her feet, she froze.
Jojo chuckled at the stunned look on Belle’s face. “Guess you will have to stay in bed, Miss Queen of the Lazybones. Mrs. Meldrum came by after you went to sleep and fixed your feet. You’re not to walk on them until she says you can.”
“And how long will that be?”
Jojo shrugged. “I think she told Mama a week.”
“A week?”
“Yep. Mrs. Meldrum said resting will help you get your strength back, too.”
Belle had no idea what Mrs. Meldrum had done to her feet, but they weren’t paining her as much and for that she was very grateful. She didn’t like the idea of being in bed for a week though; she’d never been sick a day in her life. “Jojo, I can’t be in bed for a week.”
“Why not?”
Belle had to think about it. “Well—”
“Do you have any engagements or appointments?”
“No, but—”
“So you can be in bed for a week.”
“No, I can’t. I’ll get delirious in here with nothing to do.”
“Do you want something to read? Daniel’s room has more books than the lending library.”
“No.” Belle couldn’t read, a fact she wished to keep to herself for now. “Is there any sewing that needs to be done?”
Jojo’s brown eyes lit up. “Is there? I have a banner to finish for my church group and I’ve made a mess of it. Can you sew?” “Yes.”
“Do you think you can untangle the threads for me?”
“I can try,” Belle responded encouragingly.
Jojo quickly left the room. Moments later she returned carrying a folded length of indigo satin. She laid it out across Belle’s lap. There were some embroidered words that meant nothing to the illiterate Belle, but she understood stitches and these weren’t done very well at all. The threads in some of the words and in the embroidered United States flag were uneven, twisted and misshapen. “What’s going in these spaces?” Belle asked, indicating two chalked-in squares.
“The Liberian flag and the flag of Haiti. I was hoping that if I put off doing them long enough it’d be too late to enter the competition and I wouldn’t have to finish it.”
Belle eyed the banner critically while asking, “This is for a contest?”
“Yes, all the young
women at church are competing. The best banner will be presented to Mr. Douglass when he comes to visit this summer.”
As Belle fingered some of the stitches, Jo added dejectedly, “This one won’t win a prize, will it?”
Belle didn’t lie. “No.”
Jo sighed frustratedly. “I told Mama I don’t have the talent, but she insisted I enter. She says all young women should be accomplished seamstresses.”
“She’s right.”
Jojo looked disheartened.
“We can fix this though.”
Jojo brightened. “Are you certain?”
“Positive. Go and get your threads and scissors.”
So for the next hour, Belle did her best to remove some of the fouler stitches, while Jojo looked on.
Belle asked, “Tell me why you picked these two flags.”
“Well, both mean something special to the race. Thanks to the great General Toussaint-Louverture, the Haitian slaves freed themselves from the French and in 1804 Haiti became a Black nation.”
Belle didn’t know that. “What about Liberia? Where is it?”
“Western coast of Africa. It became a Black republic back in ’47. Folks who wanted to go back to the Mother Continent live there.”
Jo then turned her attention back to the banner. “I tried to make the star straight, but I guess I didn’t do it real well.”
“You did a good job, considering.”
“Considering one of Mrs. Meldrum’s chickens could’ve done better.”
Belle grinned. “My papa used to say we all have talents, just in different things. What’s yours?”
“I’m going to be a hairdresser,” Jojo boasted proudly.
“Really?” Belle delicately cut out some of the threads in the embroidered words, then pulled the stitches free.
“Yep, but Mama wants me to go to Oberlin like Daniel—”
“What’s Oberlin?”
Jojo looked at her strangely for a moment.
Belle was embarrassed. “I don’t know about a lot of things here, Jojo.”
Jojo nodded understandingly. “I’m sorry, Belle, I forgot. How about this, whenever you don’t know something you just ask me. I won’t make fun of you.”
In that moment, Belle knew that no matter what the future held or where it led, Jojo Best had earned a place in her heart. Grateful tears stung her eyes. “I’d like that. So tell me about this Oberlin. What is it?”
“It’s a college in Ohio.”
Belle couldn’t hide her surprise. “There were colleges back home, but we weren’t allowed to go, of course. This Oberlin let Daniel go?”
“Sure. Oberlin lets everybody in. Men, women. It’s been letting our people study there since 1835.”
Belle was impressed. “And they let our folks study right next to the Whites?”
“Yep.”
Bell shook her head in wonder. “My papa was right. Things are different up here. Tell me this, how old do you have to be before they let you study there?”
“Old enough to have finished your secondary education and be able to pass the entrance examinations. Most new students are at least fifteen. Dani finished the men’s program in just a few months.”
“He must be very smart.”
“He is. Mama says education is crucial to one’s upbringing—that and knowing the history of our people.”
“Why?”
“Because we can’t tell others about our accomplishments if we don’t know them ourselves.”
Belle thought that made perfect sense. “Well, Jojo, I want to know as much as you.”
Jojo smiled. “You will, don’t worry, and with Mama around you’ll learn whether you wish to or not.”
The girls laughed, then went back to the banner.
After a while, Belle asked, “What does your papa do, Jojo?”
“He’s a cabinetmaker. His shop is in the barn behind the house. Dani’s his apprentice.”
“You said he’s at a convention. What happens at a convention?”
“People come from all over, and it’s mostly a lot of speeches. They talk about slavery, how to make the government treat us with respect, what folks should be doing to make the race greater. Things of that sort.”
“Do all races attend these conventions?”
“Some of them, but usually at ours, it’s just us. This one is in Philadelphia, so folks from all over the North will probably be there.”
“Women, too?”
“Sometimes. Usually Mama and the other ladies have their own gatherings. A lot of men don’t want the women helping with the thinking.”
“Why not?”
“Mama says because the women will get things done and not stand around all day puffing and pontificating like the men do sometimes.”
Belle chuckled. “Have you ever been to one of these conventions?”
“A few times. I went the time Mama spoke down in Toledo.”
Belle paused. “Your mother speaks?”
“Sure. Mama’s pretty famous as a speaker. She even went to England a few years ago to meet with some antislavery ladies there. She has friends all over the world.”
Belle found all this a bit hard to fathom. Where she came from Black women were allowed to speak, too but only when told what to say and when to say it, she mused sarcastically. They most certainly didn’t talk about going against slavery or travel to England. Smiling to herself, Belle thought she might like being up North.
They were interrupted a short time later by the entrance of Mrs. Best carrying a bed tray. “Belle, I brought you something to eat. Are you up to it?”
Belle set aside Jojo’s banner. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jojo spoke up contritely, “Oh, Belle, I’m sorry. I was so excited about you fixing the banner, I didn’t even ask if you were hungry.”
“It’s all right,” Belle told her genuinely. “We were having so much fun, I forgot about my stomach, too.”
Mrs. Best shook her head, amused. “Some nurse and patient you two are. Luckily, mamas have good ears. I could hear you two laughing, so I knew Belle was awake.”
On the tray sat a bowl of maple-sweetened oatmeal and a small dish of spiced apples. Mrs. Best placed the tray down on Belle’s lap, saying, “Jo’s showing you her banner, I see.”
Jojo said, “Mama, Belle’s excellent with a needle. She’s fixing my stitches.”
“Really?” Mrs. Best picked up the indigo banner and looked it over. Her eyes, full of wonder, slid to Belle. “You did this stitching?”
Belle tried to answer around the apples in her mouth. “Yes.”
“Were you a house slave?”
“No, ma’am. I was owned by a seamstress. I’ve been sewing since I was eight.”
“And you’re sixteen now?”
Belle nodded. The spiced apples were so good.
“Now, don’t take offense, but your speech is so crisp and clear—”
“Mrs. Grayson wouldn’t let me visit her customers at home until I could speak properly. She said she couldn’t have me slurring like a field hand, embarrassing her and her shop, so she gave me elocution lessons each evening before I went to sleep.”
Mrs. Best eyed Belle’s precise needlework again. “You’re very good at this, Belle.”
“Thank you.” Belle’s talents with a needle had been well-known back home and she’d taken great pride in her work. It pleased her knowing many of her gowns were in the closets and trousseaux of some of the wealthiest women in Kentucky, even though she’d never been allowed to fashion one for herself. “Some of the ladies said I was the best needle-woman in Kentucky, slave or White.”
Mrs. Best grinned. “That’s quite a testament.”
Belle nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“Well, maybe you’ll want to do that for a living once you get settled.”
“Do what, ma’am?”
“Be a seamstress, of course.”
Belle stared.
“You have the talent. You might even be able to open up
your own shop one day.”
Having been a slave all her life, Belle had never considered such a possibility. She loved sewing more than anything. The idea of being able to have her own place made her glow inside. “That would be fine, wouldn’t it?”
“I think so, yes.”
Belle lay back on the pillows and thought about it some more. “That would be fine.”
Mrs. Best chuckled. “Well, we have to get you back on your feet first.”
Daniel appeared in the doorway. Beside him stood a man Belle didn’t know.
“Papa!” Jojo squealed. “You’re back!” She ran to him and he caught her up in a strong, smiling hug.
Their loving reunion made Belle’s heart sting for her own father. Would she ever feel his strong hug again?
“You been keeping yourself out of trouble?” Mr. Best asked his daughter.
Daniel cracked drolly, “No.”
“Yes, I have,” his sister tossed back.
Mrs. Best glided smoothly into her husband’s arms. “You’re home,” she whispered in a tone shot through with relief and happiness.
Much to Belle’s embarrassment they shared a short kiss. Mr. Best looked like an older version of Daniel. He had the same dark brown face and tall frame. Still holding his wife within the circle of his arms, he asked her, “How are you?”
“Better, now that you’re home safe.”
He looked over at Belle who was doing her best not to stare. “Is this the visitor Daniel told me about?”
Mrs. Best nodded. “Yes. This is Belle. She’s going to stay with us for a while. Belle, my husband. William, this is Belle.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“Same here, Belle. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How far’d you come, Belle?” he asked.
“Kentucky, sir.”
“That’s quite a ways.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, you rest yourself and we’ll talk. Daniel says you need to find your father.”
“I do.”
He nodded. “Me and the committee’ll do our best.”