Authors: Shannon Farrington
His faith, however, was again strengthened when Julia returned the very next day with a basket full of bread on her arm.
"I wasn't certain you would come," he said. "But I am pleased that you have."
"I had to," she said. "I had to make certain that Elijah and Elisha are safe."
He wasn't sure the slave children were ever safe but he didn't tell her that. Julia's focus concerned the incident from yesterday. He didn't want to give her anything else to worry about.
"I have been praying for them," she said.
"So have I."
She offered him a tender smile. It was all he could do not to reach for her. She had felt so good in his arms.
From her basket she drew a small, brown paper package. She handed it to him. He peeked through the paper and twine. It was two pairs of gray stockings and boiled milk rolls.
"I hope that will be acceptable," she said. "Father asked for them with supper tonight and the recipe makes so many."
"It is perfectly acceptable, although I must confess that I will have a difficult time not eating them myself." He loved her milk rolls.
Again, she smiled.
He set the package beneath the table. She then placed
a linen cloth, long and full, over where they were standing. He wondered if it was her way of hiding the extra socks and rolls from prying eyes. He supposed in this case caution was wise.
Sally came up beside them with the set of cups.
"Oh, that looks pretty," she said.
"Thank you," Julia replied.
The three of them filled cups, sliced bread and offered it to those who passed along the way. Julia engaged in polite conversation with the visitors but Sam could tell her heart was not fully in it. She was worried about Elijah and Elisha.
"They should have been here by now," she whispered to him at one point.
"They may have taken a different route or perhaps they had other work today."
"Perhaps," she said softly but he knew she did not believe that was the case. In truth, he was just as concerned. Had his eagerness to show God's kindness caused the children harm? Had their master learned of Sam's assistance? Was he punishing them because Sam had carried the grain?
"God knows where they are," he said, more for his benefit than hers. "Just keep praying."
She nodded. "I will."
About half past noon they spied them, coming south on Charles without any grain. Julia quickly collected two slices of tea bread. He stopped her. The Federal captain's warning to remain in the churchyard rang through his mind. Sam didn't want Julia to be in danger but he, in good conscience, could not ignore the children.
"Wait here," he said.
"I brought them candy."
"I will take it."
She handed him two rolls of candy wafers which he promptly dropped in the left pocket of his frock coat. He gathered the bread and cups then started across the street.
Midway across he glanced back at her. Julia's eyes were sweeping the area, searching for any hint of Union blue.
Oh, Lord,
he prayed,
please don't let any soldiers come today.
He met the two boys on the far sidewalk. Their conversation was a quick one, just long enough to exchange the bread, water and candy and a few words. Elijah and Elisha then hurried on their way.
Sam turned back to cross the street. Julia's eyes were on him. She was standing at the churchyard's perimeter, a look of eagerness and concern on her face.
"Are they well?" she asked as soon as he joined her.
As well as a slave can be,
he thought. "They are fine. They traveled up Hanover Street today to make their delivery. They didn't want to get us into any trouble."
Her shoulders fell with a grateful sigh and her countenance immediately settled into a smile. "Bless their hearts," she said.
"They said to thank you."
"Thank
you,
Samuel."
"It is my pleasure."
Knowing the boys had escaped the clutches of that surly Federal soldier now put her in a happy mood. She returned to her bread. After a moment or two she was humming.
The hour passed all too soon. Sam did not want Julia to leave. He debated over asking her to walk with him again. Sally carried off the tin cups for a good scrubbing
as Julia shook the bread crumbs from the tablecloth. She packed it in her basket.
"Is there any word yet when your classes will resume?" she asked.
"Not yet, but I have found temporary work."
"Oh! That is wonderful. Where?"
"Tutoring my colleague's relative for a few hours each week. A young lad who is having trouble with his history." The pay wasn't much but it was enough to get by. For that, he was thankful.
She rocked back and forth on her feet, her skirt and petticoats rustling. Her blue eyes were full of encouragement.
His heart beat a little faster.
"Well, I am certain the boy will be a scholar in no time at all," she said.
"Thank you. Do you have a busy afternoon?"
"Oh, yes. Father is taking me to Madam Fontine's for a dress fitting."
His balloon of buoyancy burst and a lump lodged in his throat. If she was going to Madam Fontine's then it was for a new ball gown. There was an upcoming party. It stung to realize he would not be her escort.
Whether the emotion showed on his face or Julia herself regretted sharing such information, he wasn't sure. She bit her lip then hastened to explain,
"It is for Dolly Moffit's coming-out party. I really don't want to go. She is so high society but Father says that since we were invited it would be rude to decline."
"Yes," he said, absentmindedly.
She looked at him. He looked at her. Neither seemed to know what to say to the other. Sam cleared his throat.
"Well, I hope you have an enjoyable time," he managed. "Thank you again for the socks and bread."
There was another awkward silence. It was Julia who finally broke it.
"I thank you, Samuel."
"For what?"
"For being such a gentleman."
Sam nodded to her then picked up the empty water barrels. He walked to the cellar as her words repeated over and over in his mind.
Such a gentleman.
It was an improvement over the word
coward
yet it still stung.
"
The pale green silk rustled as Julia turned in front of the large looking glass. The ball gown fit but it didn't feel right.
Madam Fontine fluffed Julia's crinoline and underskirts. "You look exquisite in the gown," she said. "Although the purpose of this ball is mademoiselle Moffit's debut, I have no doubt that the gentlemen's attention will be on you."
Julia flushed, embarrassed by the proclamation but further embarrassed that she had mentioned the ball to Samuel in the first place. She had seen the hurt in his eyes and regretted her words immediately. They both realized what the ball meant.
It was the first social event Julia would attend without him.
True, she had attended other balls while he was away at school, but only to dance with her brother, sample the sweets and socialize with her friends. Never to dance and converse with other men.
She knew this day would come. She just didn't understand why it was so hard. She stared into the looking glass while the dressmaker continued to primp her
skirts. Julia did not want to dance with other men. Could it be because deep down she secretly hoped things would work out between her and Samuel?
Could he come to realize that their convictions were one and the same? He liked the Federal Army no more than she did and if the abolition of slavery meant that much to him, couldn't he let the individual states decide that themselves?
That was all Edward wanted. That was all she wanted.
She looked into her own face.
No. That isn't what I want. I don't care who chooses what. I only want my family to be whole.
Her mind drifted back to several years ago, to a cold, snowy February day, one more bitter than usual. Samuel's parents had both taken sick with the typhoid fever. Julia and her mother were in the kitchen making soup to send to them when Samuel had knocked on the door, snow dusting his hair.
They could tell immediately by the look on his face that the worst had happened. Julia's mother had hugged him.
"Oh, my boy, I am so sorry."
He hadn't cried but neither could he speak. He simply sat down at the kitchen table, a lost look in his eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Julia had ladled out a bowl of soup then cut a slice of cornbread, which she set before him.
"Thank you," he'd said simply. Then he bowed his head to pray.
Julia had stared at him, her own heart aching.
Sixteen and all alone,
she had thought.
What will happen to him now?
By God's grace, Samuel had pressed on. He'd worked. He'd finished school. He'd become part of Julia's family.
Standing in front of the dressing mirror, she realized that she still considered him so. For the first time since Edward's enlistment, Julia entertained the thought of compromise. Samuel said he could accept her support for Edward. He had given his word that he would not report the sewing circle's activities or her letters to the Federal Army.
Wasn't that enough?
I don't know. I just don't know. It isn't as if Samuel has chosen to wear a blue uniform. He isn't actively endangering Edward or the rest of my family.
Madam Fontine's heavy French accent pulled Julia from her thoughts.
"The new corset is comfortable.
Oui?
"
Julia stared at her hourglass figure. The gown bodice was shapely and snug, just as it should be. "Yes. Thank you."
The woman then held up a length of delicate white lace. "Now this is the finishing you have chosen."
"Yes. That is correct."
"Then I will add it to the edges of your sleeves, along with the contrasting piping'¦then I will add two rows to your skirt."
"Yes," Julia said.
"I will have the gown delivered to your house on Tuesday.
Oui?
"
"Tuesday, yes. Thank you."
"It is my pleasure, mademoiselle."
Julia stepped from the looking glass, melancholy and deep in thought. She wished she could make decisions about her life as easily as she could choose the trimmings for her ball gowns.
J
ulia changed back into her rust-colored taffeta tea bodice and skirt and walked to the front of the store. Her father was waiting for her.
"All finished?" he asked.
"Yes."
His mustache drooped. He could tell something wasn't right. "Weren't you pleased with the gown?"
She took his arm. She tried to sound a little more enthusiastic. "Oh, yes. It is beautiful. The color reminds me of the first leaves of spring. Thank you for buying it for me."
He patted her hand. "It has been a while since you have had a new one."
They had just stepped out onto the sidewalk when Thomas Wilkerson came hurrying up to meet them. Julia was pleased to see he was feeling better.
"How are you, Mr. Wilkerson?"
"Fine. Thank you, miss." He then looked straight at her father. "We are concerned."
Dr. Stanton let go of his daughter's arm and stepped a few paces from her. Julia stayed where he had left her but was most curious to know what or whom the men
were whispering about. At one point, her father looked at her. An uncertain expression covered his face. He then looked back at Mr. Wilkerson.
"I will come immediately," he said.
Mr. Wilkerson expressed his thanks, then hurried off in the direction from which he had come. Thomas Stanton turned to his daughter.
"They have need of my services. You will have to come with me."
"Of course," Julia said. It wasn't the first time an outing with her father had been extended due to a medical emergency. She was prepared. She always kept a small carpetbag in the carriage filled with embroidery or other handy projects. "I have my knitting."
He didn't respond. Whoever was ill must have been seriously so for her father's usually happy face was lined with concern.
Julia climbed into the carriage and her father then sped off in the direction of Fell's Point. She prayed while the wheels wobbled.
Lord, I don't know who needs You but please help them. Please let my father be an instrument of Your healing.
The carriage stopped in front of a factory worker's house with sagging shutters. Julia quickly gathered up her ruffled skirt and her father helped her out.
"Hurry," he urged.
With carpetbag in hand, she followed him to the front door.
"I want you to wait in the parlor," he said, "and under no circumstances are you to come upstairs."
"Yes, sir," she said.
An eerie feeling washed over her. Who was so ill that she had been warned not to intrude? Was it so con
tagious that her father should be concerned for his own well-being?
An old woman dressed in black answered the door. She quickly motioned them inside.
"This is my daughter," Dr. Stanton explained.
The woman did not give her name but gestured to the parlor.
"Please," she said, inviting Julia to sit.
Before Julia could even thank her, the woman ascended the staircase. Dr. Stanton followed close behind.
Julia removed her bonnet. Stepping into the tiny sitting room she glanced around. The parlor was furnished with only the bare necessities. There were four wooden chairs, a small table and a lamp. Faded paper covered the walls. In one corner it was peeling.
She assumed the closed door at the end of the room led to the kitchen. She could hear the sound of muffled voices coming from that direction. Above her was the sound of her father's heavy feet.
Whose home is this?
she wondered.
And how does Mr. Wilkerson know them?
With answers unavailable and not knowing how long she would be waiting, Julia sat down in one of the chairs. She took out her knitting needles and yarn. Since she had already begun another pair at home for Edward's men, she decided to make this new set for Samuel. The soft white yarn would be more suitable for a young child or lady.
Within a moment she was well into her first row. Her fingers raced as quickly as her mind.
Who is upstairs? Who is in the kitchen and why are they whispering so?
Again Julia prayed for her father and for this family that was obviously so in need.
She tugged at her ball of yarn. It wasn't long before her thoughts once again settled on Samuel.
I never should have mentioned Dolly Moffit's party. I wasn't thinking clearly. I can never think clearly when he looks at me that way.
Samuel looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. Despite all that had happened in the recent weeks, it was obvious that his love had not faded.
When it comes down to it, that is really all that matters in this life, to love and be loved in return.
Sally's words echoed in her mind and Julia couldn't help but think about whoever was ill upstairs.
If that was me, who would I want beside me?
Her heart told her the answer.
He had stood between the soldier and her, a shield of protection. He had held her in his arms, a comfort she did not wish to leave. She knew it as surely as the sun would tomorrow rise.
She loved him still.
The kitchen door opened. Julia looked up to see Samuel and another man stepping into the room. Shock rippled through her and heat immediately crept into her face. For a moment she thought he had surely read her previous thoughts.
He, however, looked just as surprised to see her. His eyes widened.
"Julia," he said, quickly coming toward her. "I didn't know you were here."
"I didn't know you were, either."
The other gentleman, an older one, nodded to her. Samuel introduced them. "This is Dr. Carter, my friend and colleague."
The man smiled knowingly. "Ah, so you are Thomas's daughter."
"Yes," she said.
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir." She was dying to ask what they were doing and how this man knew her father but she didn't question for fear of being rude.
Dr. Carter did not offer any further clues nor did he stay to converse. He made his excuse saying he was in a hurry, then he climbed the staircase.
What is going on up there?
she wondered.
"For Edward?"
She turned her attention from the stairs back to Samuel. He smiled and pointed to the yarn in her lap.
"Oh," she said. "No. I thought that perhaps you might be in need of another pair."
He smiled at her and drew up a chair. Everything Julia had been thinking about since Madam Fontine's came flooding back.
Oh, Lord, is compromise possible? What should I do? I don't know what is right. Please tell me.
"
Sam could see the questions in her eyes.
"Mr. Wilkerson met my father on the street in front of the dress shop," Julia said. "He said he needed his help. That it was urgent."
"It is. That is why we sent for him."
"We?" she asked in a whispered tone. "Samuel, who are these people? How do you know them?"
"I met them by way of Dr. Carter. He is a professor at the seminary."
"Oh," she said slowly.
"They are good people, Julia. They aren't radicals."
Her blue eyes blinked inquisitively. "They are abolitionists?"
"Yes."
She leaned slightly back in her chair, as though she were trying to put a measure of distance between them until she could determine whether he was safe or not.
After a moment or two of hesitancy, she relaxed somewhat. Her face took on an expression that he had not seen in quite a while.
"Well, I suppose there is nothing wrong with expressing one's personal views," she said. "You didn't stop me from knitting socks for a Confederate regiment. I suppose if you wish to write pamphlets or distribute bread, it is of no consequence to Edward."
His heart began to race and his ears were thudding. Julia's words were full of promise. On impulse, Sam reached for her hand. He was thrilled beyond words when she allowed him to take it.
"Tell me," she said, "my bread, the socks that I knitted, are they now benefiting some former slave?"
Her directness stunned him but he realized it was better to have the subject out in the open at last. "Yes," he said. "They are."
She did not look surprised. In fact, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I figured as much, especially when you acted so secretly about who it was for."
He couldn't help but smile.
"Will you do the same for Elijah and Elisha?"
It was as though the Almighty had revealed to her the subject of his prayers. "God willing," he said. "Somehow."
Their eyes were locked and the intimacy of the moment made his heart pound.
"Your teachers," she said, "your friends in Philadel
phia, I am certain are grateful for your assistance. Are there many more up north that you wish to help?"
Sam balked.
Up north?
His heart sank like a stone to the bottom of the Chesapeake. She thought he had sent the items to Philadelphia. She had no idea what he was really involved in.
Decision time was at hand. He would not lie to her but this wasn't where or how he had intended to tell her. Although her words up to now were charitable, he feared what she would say if she knew the full truth.
But I must tell her and then leave the rest in God's hands,
he told himself.
"Julia," he said slowly. "The bread did not go to Philadelphia. It was for someone here in Baltimore."
"Oh?"
"In fact, that is why your father is here now."
"Is the woman's husband ill?"
"No."
"One of her grandchildren?"
His chest was tightening. "It isn't anyone in her family. It is a young Negro woman. She hadn't eaten in days and she was beaten severely."
Julia's fingers turned to ice and her face immediately drained of all color. "What are you saying?"
"She is a runaway," he whispered. "We are helping her get to freedom."
She ripped back her hand and she stood quickly to her feet. Her ball of yarn fell from her lap. Sam's chair raked across the floor as he also stood.
"Julia'"
"Oh, Samuel! How could you? How could you?"
"Julia, if you only knew what she has been through'"
"You are breaking the law!"
"Sometimes laws made by men are unjust."
"But the soldiers! After that captain's warning? Giving bread on the street is one thing, but this! Samuel, how could you?"
He watched fear give way to anger as she realized the full implications of his actions. "I am an accomplice to your crimes! And my father'¦now you have dragged him into it, as well!"
"No one dragged him, Julia. He came willingly."
"He came because someone needed his help. He didn't know'"
"Yes, he did. I spoke with him several weeks ago, when I was trying to make my own decision on whether or not to be part of this."
"Am I to believe he gave you his blessing to break the law?"
"He told me that the decision was between me and The Lord but that if his service as a physician was ever needed, he would be available."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Didn't he understand what would happen if they were caught? Didn't he understand what those soldiers would do? Julia was so angry that she could barely get the words out.
"Samuel, are you purposefully seeking to destroy my family'¦or are you simply doing so in ignorance?"
"Julia, I would never let anything'"
"I don't believe you!"
She had raised her voice so loudly that her father had come into the room. Shirtsleeves rolled up, red faced, he looked as angry as she felt.
"That is enough, Julia!"
His tone was so firm, so uncharacteristic that she was shocked into silence.
"We will discuss this later," he said. He then looked at Samuel. The color slowly faded from his face. "It pains
me to ask this, son, but would you be so kind as to escort my daughter home?"
"Certainly, sir."
No!
Julia thought.
I won't go with him! Father, why are you doing this? Don't you realize what is happening here? Don't you realize what is at stake?
Dr. Stanton turned for the staircase. Julia glanced at Samuel. He was busy gathering up her yarn and stuffing it in her carpetbag. It was clear that there would be no discussion. He handed her the bag. Julia snatched it from him then walked to the door.
"
It was a cold carriage ride. Sam held his tongue for the course of six blocks, then he spoke.
"I am sorry that you had to find out this way. It was not my intention to deceive you."
He stole a glance at her. She was staring at the back of the mare. She said nothing. She refused to even look at him.
"I had planned to tell you everything when the time was right."
They stopped at an intersection. When a group of soldiers crossed the street in front of them, Julia gripped the bag on her lap. Her knuckles turned white with fear.
"I can see how frightened you are," he said when the soldiers were a safe distance from them. "And I am sorry that I am the cause of that. But believe me, Julia, I would not be involved in such things if I wasn't absolutely convinced that this was the right course of action to take."
Silence still. Complete, lonely silence.
For a moment he was tempted to tell her everything, to give her details he had learned. He wanted to tell her
how the poor runaway in the Jordan's attic had come to be in such desperate conditions, how the child she carried was not the result of a loving, marital union.
But he could not bring himself to do so. Julia had already seen enough hatred and horror of war so that it filled her with fear every time she saw a blue uniform. What would she think if she knew what slave-holding men of this city were capable of?