Read Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Online
Authors: A Tapestry of Hope
Only meager slices of moonlight sifted through the chinked log walls, but Jasmine’s eyes had now adapted to the darkness, and she viewed the unsightly conditions within. There was a small fireplace at the end of the room, and a few cots had been fashioned from saplings. A shabby hand-hewn table sat near the fireplace along with two worn stools. And, although she couldn’t be certain, she determined there were likely twelve or thirteen people living in this cramped cabin.
Her gaze settled on Carter and she pointed toward the end of the room. ‘‘You cook in that fireplace?’’
His white teeth gleamed in the darkness. ‘‘No, ma’am. Dis ole slave don’ know how ta cook,’’ he said and then gave a hearty laugh. ‘‘I leaves da cookin’ fer da womenfolk. But dey do mos’ da cookin’ outdoors ’cause dat chimney gets too hot. When dat happen, it catches on fire and we hafta push dat chimney away from da house. And dat ain’ no good time.’’
Jasmine frowned, not understanding how a chimney would catch on fire. ‘‘How do you keep warm in the winter if you can’t use the fireplace?’’
‘‘Oh, we lights da wood in der, but sometimes we haftta get up in da middle o’ da night and push da chimney away from da house. Dat chimney can catch fire purty easy ’cause it be made o’ sticks and clay and moss—ain’ like dem brick chimneys in da big house,’’ he explained.
Even though the room was warm, Jasmine shivered. ‘‘So you must wear warmer clothes and pile under heavy blankets at night when the weather turns cold?’’
Carter slowly wagged his head back and forth. ‘‘You don’ understan’ much ’bout life here in the quartah, ma’am, and best it stay dat way,’’ he said before turning toward Nolan. ‘‘You need ta get her outta here afore the massa finds out. But I do thank ya fer bringin’ da food.’’
‘‘They don’t receive ample food or clothing, do they? Does my father know this?’’
Carter turned, his eyes alight with fear. ‘‘Don’ say nothin’ to your pappy, girl. Iffen you do dat, the overseer gonna think us’n been complainin’ and he whup us fer sho’.’’
‘‘Whip you? Surely not,’’ Jasmine replied in disbelief.
It took only a fleeting glance around the room to observe young and old alike in tattered clothes and bare feet. The truth slowly sank in. She realized something substantial needed to be done. ‘‘I want to try and help if you’re not getting enough food— or clothing.’’
‘‘Can’t nobody help us ’less you got some way o’ convincin’ your pappy to set us free.’’
Jasmine met Nolan’s gaze. He didn’t smirk. His eyes weren’t filled with recrimination. He didn’t say a word. His body appeared weighed down by the overwhelming helplessness that surrounded them.
‘‘Surely there must be something we can do,’’ she whispered to Nolan.
‘‘If you want to help Carter and these others, do what he’s asked. Say nothing. If you want to see an end to all of this suffering, work against slavery now that you’re married and living away from this place. Time will tell if the sights you’ve seen tonight will fade from your memory or if they will burn more vividly each day and spur you onward to greater good.’’
A
LICE DIPPED
a linen cloth into a basin of cool water, wrung out the excess, and placed it across her granddaughter’s forehead. ‘‘Jasmine, I am concerned. You are much too pale, and your inability to hold down any food over the past few days worries me. Never in your life have I seen you in this condition while at sea. I hope you haven’t taken yellow fever.’’
Jasmine gave her grandmother a bleak smile. ‘‘I’m sure it’s nothing so dramatic. I can’t imagine why I’m ill. The waters have been calm throughout our voyage.’’
‘‘At first I thought the illness was caused by something you’d eaten. But you’ve eaten the same meals as the rest of us. As far as I can determine, no one else appears to be suffering from this malady. Try a sip of water,’’ Alice fussed. ‘‘You need to have some liquid in your body. I’ll see if the ship’s cook has some broth you might be able to tolerate.’’
The mention of broth caused Jasmine to think of food, but the thought of eating caused her to once again begin retching. When the unwelcome gagging finally ceased, she fell back upon the damp, flattened pillow, her forehead beaded with perspiration. Her stomach and ribs ached from previous days filled with sporadic heaving followed by constant painful headaches.
‘‘I suppose this is a fitting conclusion to our trip. The entire journey has been nothing but one disaster after another.’’
‘‘Now, now, no need to exaggerate, my dear. You’ll only upset yourself and feel worse. Moreover, we had many relaxing days visiting with your dear mother.’’
‘‘If you recall, Mother was supposed to return with us. That was the entire reason we made this voyage. As for visiting with her, I don’t think she even knew we were there most of the time.
I fear she’s completely escaped into a world of her own making and hasn’t any idea what’s going on around her.’’ Jasmine shifted and turned on her side, resting her head on one arm. ‘‘It breaks my heart to see her in this condition. I wish I were close at hand to help care for her, but I doubt there’s any chance Bradley would consider moving south.’’
Her grandmother’s waning smile confirmed what Jasmine already knew. Bradley would never consider leaving his position with the Boston Associates.
‘‘If we look at the positive outcomes of our journey, I think you’d have to agree it was a good thing Mammy returned with us and is remaining at The Willows.’’
Jasmine gave a weak nod. ‘‘That’s true. Leaving Mother didn’t seem quite so terrible with Mammy there to care for her. But being without both of them is a greater personal loss to me. The house will seem quite empty with only the hired help. Mammy had become my confidante—I trusted her.’’ She swallowed hard, not wanting to once again begin the violent retching. The wave of nausea momentarily passed and she squeezed Alice’s vein-lined hand. ‘‘At least Bradley should be pleased.’’
‘‘Whatever do you mean?’’
Jasmine knew she shouldn’t speak objectionably about her husband to her grandmother. And since her marriage to Bradley, she’d attempted to refrain from doing so. But she wondered if her reticence to criticize Bradley’s behavior caused her grandmother to believe he had evolved into a genuine saint rather than remaining the difficult, demanding man Jasmine had married. ‘‘I had to bargain with Bradley in order to gain his permission for Mother’s visit.’’
Alice grew wide-eyed at the remark. ‘‘In what way? Or dare I ask?’’
‘‘Mother’s visit was contingent upon Mammy’s permanent return to The Willows.’’
‘‘I wondered why you weren’t overly upset about Mammy leaving. But I thought perhaps she had asked to return because she missed the warmer climate.’’
‘‘There’s no doubt Mammy prefers the South, but she would have remained in Lowell had it not been for Bradley’s edict that she leave. Apparently he received severe criticism from many of the Boston Associates because a slave was living in his household.’’
She wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips together. ‘‘And, of course, we must manage our households as ordained by the Boston Associates.’’
‘‘You shouldn’t be surprised by their disdain. You know slavery is abhorred by most in the North, Jasmine.’’
‘‘And I now see the merits of abolition also. However, the Northerners speak from both sides of their mouth. They speak against slavery except as it relates to making them wealthy; then they turn their heads the other way. It’s pure hypocrisy. The slaves are necessary to produce cotton, and the cotton is necessary to operate their mills. I don’t see any of them refusing to buy cotton from Southern plantations. In fact, that’s precisely why Bradley was hired—to convince Southern growers to sell up north instead of shipping their crops to England.’’
‘‘You have a valid argument, child. Of that, there is no doubt.
This very issue has been argued at antislavery meetings. However, you must remember that Bradley’s position hinges upon doing what his superiors request. And having Mammy with your mother is for the best.’’ Alice gave her a bright smile and plumped Jasmine’s flattened pillow. ‘‘I know you and Bradley are eventually going to look back upon these early days of your marriage with amusement. You’ll wonder how you ever thought it impossible to love him,’’ she said in an obvious attempt to buoy Jasmine’s spirits.
Jasmine glanced up at her grandmother. ‘‘Bradley is
not
the man you think he’s become, Grandmother, and I doubt I will ever grow to love him. I try to be a good wife and I will continue to do so. However, his distasteful actions make it difficult to like him, much less consider feelings of love.’’
‘‘Don’t let this particular matter divide you. There are many Northerners who decry slavery when what they actually believe is slavery should not spread into other states. I think this one issue may eventually split the antislavery movement—at least politically.
I pray it doesn’t fracture the movement so badly that we lose our impetus. I’m for complete abolition, but if we can’t have abolition, I don’t want to see any more proslavery states coming into the Union.’’
‘‘My disagreement with Bradley wasn’t over the slavery issue.
Bradley insisted that I give Mammy up, and he also insisted that Mother spend half her visit with you. As for Mammy, I said we could request her papers from Father and free her. We could hire her as a servant like the other maids. But he denied my request.’’
‘‘You’ve not been married long. He likely requested your mother spend time with me because he wants more time alone with you. And even if you freed Mammy, folks know she came to your household as a slave and would always think of her in that capacity. It has all worked out for the best, Jasmine. Your mother needs Mammy, and Mammy is much happier at The Willows.
Think about how pleased she was to see the other slaves when we arrived at the house. Overall, I think we had a good visit.’’
Jasmine dipped her fingers in the cup of water and moistened her lips. ‘‘Have you ever been to the slave quarters, Grandmother?’’ ‘‘Only once. I never went again.’’ Alice peered at her for a long moment. ‘‘Have you, Jasmine?’’
‘‘Yes. I had to go and see for myself what it was like. You know that I have declared the Wainwright slaves are well treated. However, I decided if I was going to continue making such statements, I needed to assure I was speaking the truth.’’
‘‘And what did you find?’’
‘‘I find I have spoken falsely. I saw and heard things that made me weep.’’ She paused and looked toward the wall. ‘‘Does Papa advocate whipping the slaves?’’
Her grandmother said nothing for a moment, so Jasmine looked back and saw her expression take on a look of discomfort.
‘‘He believes in discipline.’’
‘‘And discipline is meted out at the end of a whip, correct?’’
‘‘I suppose you could say that. Although your father generally leaves such matters to the overseers.’’
‘‘I suppose that assuages his conscience,’’ Jasmine said, shaking her head. ‘‘And no doubt the overseers rid themselves of guilt by saying they are only following orders.’’
‘‘You are probably right.’’
‘‘But what good does it do me to be right, when such injustice is going on? I thought our slaves were happy and well kept. I thought things were different because we were good, honest people.’’ ‘‘But in learning otherwise, what can you do?’’ her grandmother asked softly.
‘‘I learned slavery should be abolished. I can work toward that end.’’
Alice leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
‘‘Then this journey was not a disaster—this journey was designed by God.’’
‘‘And this illness? Is it a part of the design also?’’
‘‘With God, who can tell? You try to rest. I’m going to finish one more row on my needlepoint, and then I’ll see about that—’’ Jasmine put a finger to her lips. ‘‘Don’t mention food, Grandmother. My stomach has finally settled.’’
Alice smiled. ‘‘Try to sleep. We’ll soon be home.’’
County Kerry, Ireland
K
IARA
O’N
EILL
grasped her legs tight and pulled them to her chest, her gaze fastened upon the young boy lying before her. She leaned forward, resting her dimpled chin upon bent knees while she listened to her brother’s labored breathing. Padraig turned onto his side and curled his body into a half-moon. Instinctively, she reached out and brushed the shock of black curls away from his damp forehead. The fever must be breaking. She drew closer to his side. His thin body was drenched in perspiration. As if she held a fine wool coverlet, Kiara wrapped a filthy piece of blanket tightly around the boy and then mopped his face with the hem of her ragged skirt.
Through the open door of the hovel, a thin shaft of golden light could be seen on the horizon. ‘‘Ya ain’t answered many o’ me prayers, God, but I’m takin’ this as a sign that ya’ll be savin’ Paddy from the grave. And I’ll be tellin’ ya I think it’s the least ya could do under the circumstances.’’
‘‘Who ya talkin’ to, girl?’’
Kiara startled and turned. Mrs. Brennan was peering in the door of the cottage with a misshapen basket hooked on one arm.
‘‘I’m talkin’ to God. Nobody else around here to listen to me complaints.’’
Mrs. Brennan jumped away from the door as though struck by a bolt of lightning. ‘‘Ya best keep that sass to yarself. I doubt the Almighty needs ya tellin’ Him what He should or shouldn’t be doin’.’’
Kiara gave a snort and wheeled around to face the woman.
‘‘Outside o’ killing Padraig, there’s not much else He can do to hurt me.’’
‘‘He could take
yar
life too if ya’re not careful.’’
‘‘And I’d be considerin’ that a blessin’, so I doubt He’ll favor me with such a decision.’’
‘‘Ya’re not the only one sufferin’, Kiara O’Neill. All of us have endured loss.’’
‘‘Right you are—and the Almighty could’a saved the potato crop instead of sending this awful curse upon us. Does na seem it would be so difficult for Him to look upon us with a bit o’ favor.
We already got the hatred of the English to contend with . . . seems as though that ought to be enough for one group of people.