Macia placed her fork on the tray. “I must rest now. Help me back to my bed, please.”
Had Mr. Laird not been present, Truth would have insisted Macia remain out of bed for at least a while longer. However, this wasn’t the time to provoke an argument, so she did as Macia requested. Once settled, Macia immediately dropped off to sleep. The girl’s drowsiness was puzzling, for Truth didn’t think anyone had visited the room before she arrived this morning. Yet if Macia hadn’t been given any additional medication, why was she so groggy now? Perhaps she truly had contracted some horrid illness. Truth didn’t know what to believe. And now, instead of throwing her out on her ear, Mr. Laird was engaging her in conversation and insisting she join him downstairs for a cup of tea.
Truth followed hesitantly, all the while longing to run down the back stairway and visit Daisy in the kitchen. For the first time in her life, she much preferred the idea of peeling potatoes or scrubbing pots to visiting over a cup of tea. Jarena and Grace would certainly find that hard to believe.
Mr. Laird jerked three times on a cord in the parlor, and soon Daisy appeared. The servant’s eyes were wide with surprise when she spied Truth sitting on the divan like any prim and proper guest who might come calling. Truth longed to speak, but she dared not say anything to Daisy.
“Bring us a pot of tea and perhaps some of those tarts that I like so well. Is it too early in the day for you to indulge in sweets, Miss Har-ban?” Truth shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Tea and tarts it is, Daisy. No rush. Miss Harban and I are going to visit.”
“Yessuh.” Daisy scurried from the room as though the carpet were on fire and the flames were licking at her heels.
Mr. Laird leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers. “I believe I would enjoy hearing a bit about your history, Miss Harban.”
“My history?”
“Yes. You appear more educated than most of the coloreds I’ve known. And you’re obviously trustworthy, since Dr. Boyle sent you to fetch his daughter. Not all coloreds can be trusted, you know.”
Truth shifted and looked him directly in the eyes. “Not all whites can be trusted, either, Mr. Laird. People are people—some good, some bad.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true. That fact aside, tell me about yourself. I find you somewhat of an enigma.”
Truth wanted to tell him she found him to be a mystery, also. And she certainly found Macia’s condition puzzling. However, she did as he requested, telling him of her roots in Kentucky and the family’s subsequent move to Kansas. She shared only the barest of details, but he demonstrated a genuine interest in her background, asking questions and making courteous comments as she spoke.
While Truth continued to answer Mr. Laird’s questions, Daisy set the tea tray on a nearby table and exited the room.
Mr. Laird stood and moved toward the rectangular cherry table. “So you’re planning to marry Mr. Wyman in the near future?”
“Yes. In September.”
“Excellent. He sounds like a fine man. And who’s taking care of the wedding preparations in your absence?”
“I’ll have to complete the arrangements when I return to Kansas.”
He nodded as he lifted the teapot and began to pour. “Since it appears Miss Boyle is going to have a slow recovery, I do believe you’re doing yourself a disservice by remaining in New York. If you haven’t sufficient funds for your train ticket, I could advance the money and Mr. Boyle could reimburse me later.”
“I have a return ticket. Mr. Boyle purchased it in advance—along with Macia’s ticket.”
“Then why not leave Miss Boyle’s ticket with me, and you may plan to return in the morning? I’ll be happy to escort you to the train depot.
You can report to Dr. Boyle that Macia is in excellent hands.”
“No. I believe I’ll wait until Macia is well enough to travel with me.
I promised Dr. Boyle.”
Mr. Laird didn’t argue. He merely turned his back, poured another cup of tea, and handed it to Truth. “As you wish. Do have one of these tarts with your tea.”
Truth ate the tart much too quickly and gulped down the cup of tea. She returned the cup and saucer to the table while firmly declining his offer for an additional cup of tea. Right now, all she wanted was to escape his presence.
That evening, Truth sat outside the carriage house with Daisy and Silas, both of them anxious to hear details of her conversation with Mr.
Laird that morning.
“I ain’t never knowed of Mr. Laird to allow no coloreds to take tea with him,” Silas said. “And he’s wantin’ you to come to the parlor every day and drink tea? Whole thing sounds crazy.”
“I think so, too, but I’m afraid if I don’t agree, he’ll say I can’t stay here and care for Macia.”
Daisy pulled at a loose thread in the hem of her apron. “I’s glad it’s you and not me. I sure wouldn’t wanna sit and talk to that man. The Rutledges is all right, but Mr. Laird scares me.”
Truth shrugged. “He acts as though he’s interested in knowing about Macia’s family, and he asked lots of questions, but if talking to him will let me stay, then I’m willing to spend time with him. I figure he’ll soon tire of the idea.”
Once the girls had gone up to their room and prepared for bed, Daisy sat down on the edge of her cot. “I think Silas is taken a likin’ to you. I see the way he looks at you when you’s not watching.”
Truth twisted around and faced Daisy. “No. He’s merely being kind. Besides, he knows I’m planning to marry Moses when I return to Kansas.”
“Don’ mean he ain’t hoping you’ll forget ’bout Moses and start thinking ’bout him.”
Truth reached down and pulled back the bedcovers, pretending she hadn’t heard the reply. She truly hoped Daisy was mistaken. Not that Silas wasn’t a kind young man—and handsome, too. However, she didn’t need anything else to complicate her stay in New York.
Truth’s expectation that Mr. Laird might forego their daily ritual of tea and conversation diminished. Each day he appeared and escorted her to the parlor, and each day he plied her with questions while he served her tea and tarts. To make matters worse, the Rutledges had come to expect her assistance with household chores and kitchen duties—to defray the cost of her room and board, they said. Though Truth was willing in spirit, she’d daily grown more fatigued and had taken to napping each afternoon. She prayed Mr. Laird might be out of the house on business this day, for she truly did not want to take tea with him.
Her hopes were dashed when Mr. Laird appeared in Macia’s room at his regularly appointed time with his counterfeit smile and an affable greeting. “I’m not feeling well, Mr. Laird. My stomach is upset and I’m exhausted. I trust you’ll understand if I don’t join you for tea this afternoon.”
“If your stomach is upset, I’ll have Daisy brew a pot of peppermint tea.”
No need to argue further. There was no denying the man, for he had an answer to every objection. Truth followed him into the parlor and quickly downed the tea, thankful he willingly excused her earlier than usual. After a brief stop in the kitchen to offer apologies to Daisy, Truth hurried across the grassy expanse to the carriage house. Suddenly overwhelmed by blinding dizziness, Truth pressed her fingers to her temples. Her knees buckled as she grasped the handrail.
A strong arm encircled her waist and lifted her upright. “You ain’t gonna make it up them stairs without help.”
“Silas.” She breathed his name and clung tightly to his shirtsleeve.
Silas scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the steps and into her room. He gently placed her on the bed. “I’m thinking
you
got the sickness, Truth.”
Fear overcame her as he spoke the words. “You’ve got to get help, Silas. Bring a doctor to see me.
Please
. Not Dr. Anderson—someone else.”
Silas wrung his hands and nodded. “I will, but you sleep, Truth. We’ll talk ’bout a doctor in the morning. I promise. You jest sleep.”
Truth’s eyes fluttered and then closed as she heard Silas’s retreating footsteps. She willed her eyes to open and her lips to speak, but she could do neither. Pain seared through her belly like a fiery sword and destroyed all thought of sleep. How was she going to get Macia out of this place if she became sick herself? She pulled her knees to her chest and rolled to her side. When the pain increased, she rolled over onto her back. Tears trickled across her face and followed a downward path, plummeting into her ears like raindrops splashing into a well.
Truth abandoned herself to the surges of pain until, completely spent, she dropped into a fitful sleep. Darkness had fallen, and Silas and Daisy were sitting nearby talking when she finally awakened.
“She’s awake,” she heard Daisy tell Silas.
“How you feeling, Truth? Daisy brung you some supper. You think you’s able to eat something?”
Truth attempted to sit up but immediately fell back against the pillow. “Just something to drink—water, not tea.”While Daisy poured the water, Truth motioned Silas closer. “Did you go for a doctor?”
“We needs to speak ’bout that idea. Me and Daisy been talking. If Mr. Laird or the Rutledges find out I went for a doctor, I’s sure to lose my job, and it ain’t so easy findin’ work in New York. Lots of immigrants coming in and taking all the jobs. This ain’t nothing so fine, but I’s got a place to sleep, food to eat, enough money for my needs—and I can even save me a little.”
Truth grasped his hand. “They won’t find out, Silas. The fact is, I think I’m going to die if I don’t get help.”
Daisy lifted the cup of water to Truth’s lips. “You’s asking an awful lot of Silas. When you’s feeling good again, you can take yourself back home, but Silas will be left here wid nothing and nobody to hep him. Ain’t fair to ask him to do something what could make him lose his livelihood.”
Daisy was correct. Truth’s request was selfish. Yet what else was she to do? If her health permitted, she would go herself. But such an idea was impossible now.
“If anything happens, you can come to Kansas with Macia and me. I give you my word.”
Silas sat up straight and looked directly into her eyes. “You mean dat? For sho’?”
“Yes. I give you my word, Silas.”
“What I gotta do?”
“Bring me a pen and paper. I’m going to write a letter for you to take to a doctor in town. Wait until the doctor reads the letter. I’m hopeful God will lead you to someone who will immediately return with you. If not, you must find out exactly when he’ll come so we can be certain he won’t be observed.”
Silas retrieved Truth’s writing supplies while Daisy enumerated the many reasons why Silas shouldn’t be involved in a scheme that might jeopardize his position at the school. And although Truth understood Daisy’s reasoning, she wished the girl would cease her talking. While Silas sat close by and Daisy paced the length of the room, Truth penned a letter setting forth the strange and difficult circumstances she’d experienced since arriving at the Rutledge Academy. She wondered if any sane man would believe the contents of her letter—she could only pray God would direct Silas to the right man.
When she had finally completed the letter, Truth handed it to Silas. “Before handing over this letter, you must explain that you work at the academy. Ask if the doctor knows Mr. Laird or the Rutledges. Do you understand?”
Silas ran a finger along the edge of the envelope. “What I gonna say if the doctor asks what difference it makes if he know ’em?”
“Just say you want to be sure you’re at the correct office. If he says he knows any of them, you must walk out. If he says he doesn’t know them, give him the letter.”
Silas scratched his head. “I guess I can do that. I’ll go tomorrow morning when I’m s’posed to be working over in the stables. Don’t nobody check on me then. Still ain’t fer sure how I’m gonna find a doctor’s office.”
Daisy folded her arms across her chest. “If you’s set on doing this, I guess I don’ want you wand’ring around all day lookin’ for a doctor. There’s a couple of doctor offices ’tween Seventh an’ Eighth streets by the Bradbury Hotel.”
Truth reached out and clasped Daisy’s hand. “Thank you, Daisy.”
She jerked away. “Don’t be thanking me. I didn’t do nothing. And if anyone asks either of you ’bout any of this, you best tell ’em I got nothing to do with any of it.”
Hill City , Kansas
C
ertain the Nelson children were napping, Lilly tiptoed into her bedroom and pulled a small carpetbag from the back of her wardrobe. After grabbing a letter opener from the top drawer of her chest, she knelt down and pried at the loose floorboard. The wood creaked as she finally raised the board. Shifting backward, Lilly rested on her haunches and listened for the children. When all remained silent throughout the house, she exhaled and lifted the packet of ribbon-tied letters from the narrow opening beneath the floor.
She caressed the tattered envelopes for a brief moment and then shoved them into her valise. Moving quickly, she replaced the floorboard and pressed it back into position with the heel of her shoe.With a perfunctory swipe of her handkerchief, she brushed away the loose splinters of wood. Although Lilly suspected Mrs. Nelson had already discovered the hiding place, she didn’t want to draw attention to the spot.
Without a backward glance, Lilly rushed downstairs and into Mr. Nelson’s office. Her heart thumped in a wild, erratic rhythm as she pulled open the doors of the large oak cabinet. The huge metal safe stood before her, a box of thick steel waiting to be conquered. She pulled from her pocket the scrap of paper bearing the combination.
Her hand trembled as she carefully followed the directions for spinning the dial and then moving it first in one direction and then the other, stopping at each designated number. She inhaled and pulled on the handle. It didn’t budge. Beads of sweat formed across her forehead as she once again twirled the knob and followed the exacting directions. Again the handle remained fixed.
Lilly glared at the steel box and back at the combination. “Come on! I don’t have all day.” Determined, Lilly sucked in another deep breath, twisted the dial, and carefully moved from number to number as the directions stated. When the arrow pointed to the final digit, she heard a muted click. Her pulse quickened and her hands trembled as she reached for the handle. This time it moved. Bending forward, Lilly lifted the handle and pulled the heavy door outward.