Morning Sky Page 19

  “What did they say specifically, Silas? You need to remember exactly what kind of papers they were. Macia didn’t mention signing any papers.”

  He lifted the leather strap and examined his handiwork. “That gal ain’t awake long enough to mention nothin’ ’bout no papers.”

  “Think, Silas. What kind of papers did they talk about?”

  He scratched his head and then leaned both hands on the worktable. “Somethin’ to do with ‘life.’ I heard ’em say ‘life papers.’ I knows that for sure.”

  Truth stood. “When I go to see Macia tomorrow, I’ll try and keep her awake long enough to ask her some questions. Maybe she remembers signing something.”

  “Jest be careful. Them folks is surely riled up, and if Mr. Laird hears you asking questions, no tellin’ what might happen. Like I told you earlier, he’s mighty angry wid you for causin’ trouble. No tellin’ what he might do.”

  The next morning, Truth slipped up the back stairs and into Macia’s room. She hoped Mr. Laird had discontinued his habit of appearing in Macia’s room each morning. She poured water into the washbowl and carried it to the bedside table. After dipping a cloth in the water, she wrung it out and wiped Macia’s face. The girl stirred and attempted to push Truth away.

  “Quit fighting me, Macia. You need to wake up.”

  “You’re always bothering me, Truth. Go away.”

  Truth persisted. Though Macia fought her at every turn, Truth managed to eventually force the girl from her bed and into an overstuffed chair with the promise that she’d let her sleep in peace after they talked.

  Pulling a chair opposite Macia, Truth plopped down and leaned forward, resting her arms across her thighs. “I want you to try and remember if you signed any papers when you first arrived at the school, Macia.”

  “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter why, just tell me—do you recall signing papers?” Macia stared at the ceiling until Truth finally snapped her fingers. “Try to concentrate, Macia.”

  “They said Father hadn’t completed all of the papers and I was required to sign something. That’s all I remember. Now can I go back to bed?”

  “Not yet. Did you read any of them?”

  Macia shook her head. “No. Mrs. Rutledge was talking to me and Mr. Laird—Marvin—pointed to the place for me to sign.”

  “Did the papers say anything about your life?”

  “My life? Why would they say anything about my life?”

  Before Truth could respond, the door swung open. “Well, look who’s here. I trust you’re feeling much better, Truth?”

  She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palms as Mr. Laird crossed the room. “Yes, thank you. I was just going to help Macia get back into bed and then return to my room and get some rest myself.”

  He wagged his finger back and forth. “Not without some refreshments before you depart. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Another time might be better. Today is my first day up and about and I’m a bit weary.”

  “I promise I won’t keep you long. I’ve missed our little chats. Come along, now.”

  Truth reluctantly helped Macia get back into bed and then followed Mr. Laird downstairs. As had become the custom, they waited while Daisy brought the tray into the room. However, Truth would make certain he wouldn’t fool her this time. She carefully watched as Mr. Laird prepared the tea, and although he dipped his hand into his pocket, she didn’t see him withdraw anything. He carried the tray across the room and carefully situated it on the table.

  “Do help yourself,” he said, pointing at one of the teacups.

  Without hesitation, Truth reached across the tray and picked up the cup and saucer on the opposite side of the tray. Mr. Laird appeared dumbfounded as she took a sip of the tea.

  She picked up the other cup and offered it to Mr. Laird. He hesitated. “Please. I don’t want to partake alone.”

  His jaw twitched as he took the cup and balanced it on his knee without taking a sip. When the brew had grown cold, he placed the cup back on the tray. “I have several appointments and must depart. We’ll spend more time together tomorrow.”

  Truth forced herself to appear unruffled as she walked from the room. She maintained a steady, even gait until she walked out the kitchen door. But the moment her feet touched the grassy expanse, she raced pell-mell toward the carriage house and barreled through the doorway. “Silas! You were right! He’s using something to make Macia sick—and me, too. Except this time I fooled him. We need to go to the police, Silas.”

  His eyes widened with fear. “Police?”

  Truth dropped onto the bottom step. “Yes. Police, constable, sheriff, whatever name they go by here in New York—we must go and talk to them.”

  Silas squatted down in front of her. “And tell ‘em what? That these fine white folks what run this expensive school for girls is bein’ mean to us colored folks and may be killin’ some of the white gals?”

  She nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what we need to tell them.”

  “This may be the North, but if you think them constables is gonna listen to us, you better think again. They’d prob’ly say we was crazy and lock us up in that insane asylum on the other side of town. We can’t be goin’ to no police, Truth.”

  “You think they won’t listen because the Rutledges are wealthy and own this school?”

  “And ’cause rich folks send their daughters to this place, and ’cause lots of important folks know Mr. Laird an’ Mr. Rutledge—and ’cause we’s colored and they’s white.”

  Truth rubbed her forehead. “Then what are we going to do?”

  “If we’s gonna get outta here, we gotta get us a good plan. I’m thinkin’ we can’t take no chance getting that doctor. So long as you can keep from drinking any more of that tea, you shouldn’ be gettin’ sick no more. And maybe it’s better if Macia’s sleepin’ when we try and take her outta here—that way she won’t wake nobody up with her yellin’.”

  “I’d rather go to the constable.”

  Silas grabbed both of her hands and held them tight. “You listen ter me, Truth. You got lots of book learnin’. Ain’t no denyin’ you’s lots smarter than the likes of me. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that we can’t depend on no one but ourselves to get outta here. If you ain’t willin’ to keep the law outta this, then I ain’t goin’ with you. You gotta give me your word.”

  There was no choice to be made. She must have Silas’s help or she’d never get Macia out of this school. She nodded. “You have my word.”

  “Good. Now let’s make us a plan.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  Hill City , Kansas

  Jarena opened the front door to young Georgie Nelson.

  “Good morning, Miss Harban. May I see Miss Lilly?” He carried another bouquet of roses in one hand and clutched a small black folder in the other.

  Jarena motioned him inside. “Does your mother know you’re cutting her roses, Georgie?”

  He shrugged. “I told her I was coming to see Miss Lilly, and she knows Miss Lilly likes roses.”

  “I see. Well, it might be wise to ask permission before you cut any more. I’m certain she works very hard to grow such lovely flowers. She may want to keep them to enjoy herself.”

  “She’s the one who always says it’s better to give than receive. Is Miss Lilly awake? I need to talk to her.”

  Jarena knew she had best warn the boy that her aunt wasn’t responding as well as Dr. Boyle had hoped, and her periods of consciousness grew farther and farther apart. “She’s still not doing very well, Georgie, so even if she’s awake, you mustn’t expect her to talk too much.” Jarena pointed to his hand. “What’s that you’re carrying with you?”

  He gripped the folder more tightly, holding it against his chest. “Something I brought for Miss Lilly.”

  Obviously the boy didn’t want to divulge what gift he’d brought, so Jarena didn’t pry. It was likely a drawing or poem he’d written
. Jarena thought young Georgie might find himself in a good deal of trouble if his parents discovered he had been cutting roses and borrowing his father’s leather folder. However, she found his affection for her aunt both surprising and endearing. From all accounts, Georgie had been Aunt Lilly’s nemesis, yet here he was coming to visit her sickbed and delivering gifts.

  “Would you like me to put the flowers in water before we go upstairs?”

  Georgie thrust the bouquet at Jarena and waited in the foyer until she returned with the flowers tucked into a water-filled vase. He followed her up the stairs. While Jarena placed the flowers atop the chest of drawers, Georgie tiptoed to Lilly’s bedside. He dropped into the chair next to the bed and waited a moment. He hunched forward, leaned close to Lilly’s ear, and spoke loudly. “You awake, Miss Lilly?”

  If his boisterous voice didn’t cause Aunt Lilly to stir, Jarena didn’t know what would.

  Georgie was peering down at Lilly when she opened her eyes. “Georgie! Move away from my face.”

  He jumped back as though he’d been hit with a round of buckshot. “I came to see you, Miss Lilly, and I brought you this, just like I said.” He held the item in front of her face.

  “Slip it under my pillow.”

  Georgie did as she bid.

  “Thank you.” She patted his hand. “Does your mother know you brought this?”

  He shook his head. “I took it out of the hiding place when she was in the backyard with Alma.”

  “Excellent thinking on your part,” Lilly wheezed as she panted to gain her breath.

  “Am I safe now, Miss Lilly?”

  Lilly gave him a weak nod. “Forever, Georgie.”

  “Thank you. Alma said to tell you hello and she hopes you come back to the house real soon. I brought you some more roses.”

  “Thank you, but you shouldn’t pick any more of your mother’s roses.”

  “That’s what Miss Jarena said, too.” Lilly’s eyes closed as Georgie completed the remark. “Is she sleeping again?” he asked Jarena. She nodded, and the boy stood up. “Guess I’ll go on back home, then.”

  Jarena accompanied him down the flight of stairs. “Thank you for coming, Georgie. It was very kind of you. I didn’t realize you and Aunt Lilly had become such dear friends.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Friends? I came over here ’cause Miss Lilly used her evil eye on me. I had to keep my promise so she’d set me free from her curse before she died.”

  Jarena felt as though she’d taken a blow to the stomach. She grasped Georgie’s shoulder. “You believe my aunt placed a curse on you?”

  “You ever see that bloody rabbit’s foot and her evil eye—and that thing she wears around her neck on the velvet ribbon? She’s got special powers.”

  “No she doesn’t. You were never under any spell or curse, Georgie. Do you believe me?”

  The boy chewed on his bottom lip. “I feel a whole lot better now that she told me I’m safe.” He ran down the steps and waved once he’d cleared the gate.

  Jarena watched the boy race toward home and shook her head. So much for believing Aunt Lilly’s tender care had endeared her to the Nelson children.

  When she heard Jarena and Georgie going down the stairs, Lilly opened her eyes. She was glad to be alone—and awake. She reached under her pillow. Her fingers clawed at the pillowcase until she secured a firm grasp on the folder. She gasped for breath as she held the coveted possession to her breast. How could so little effort cause such exertion?

  The thin leather cover had become brittle with age. But inside were Lilly’s most valued possessions. First was the certificate of freedom she’d received after leaving Kentucky and moving to New Orleans. She had argued long and hard for the document, but that piece of paper had made her a free woman even before President Lincoln’s CivilWar. And though being a courtesan had tied her life to white men, Lilly knew that, by law, she was free. She opened the folder and ran a shaky finger down the yellowed page. In her haste to rob the Nelsons’ safe and leave town, Lilly had retrieved her letters from beneath the floorboards but had failed to reclaim her most important possession—the leather folder. How could she have been so reckless? Such foolhardy behavior!

  Holding the papers to her chest, Lilly decided it was time to tell Jarena. Lilly would suffer Ezekiel’s wrath for breaking her old promise, but Lilly had long ago grown accustomed to Ezekiel’s anger. And there was likely no need to worry. The way she was feeling, she’d be dead by the time he found out, anyway. Her heart raced when she heard approaching footsteps.

  “You’re awake!” Jarena’s voice was filled with happiness as she sat next to Lilly. “And you even gathered enough strength to look at the folder Georgie brought you.”

  Lilly took as deep a breath as she could manage. “Sit down, Jarena. I’ve got some things to tell you before I die.”

  “You’re not going to—” Lilly held up her hand to silence the girl. “I don’t have the time or energy to argue. You need to listen real careful . . . because you’re not going to like this—not one little bit.”

  Jarena moved her chair closer to the bed and nestled Lilly’s hands in her own. “I think you must be exaggerating again, Aunt Lilly.”

  She ignored the remark. “You remember that talk we had back at the Nelsons’? The one about forgiveness?”

  “Of course I do. How could I forget?”

  “You still believe you can forgive anything that’s ever happened to you?” The words were raspy and uneven as she struggled for breath.

  Jarena lightly squeezed Lilly’s fingers and nodded.

  “Then this will be your test, Jarena.” Lilly closed her eyes. Her strength was quickly waning. She forced her eyelids open and looked at Jarena—such a lovely young woman. “Jarena, I am your mother. Not Jennie—but me. You are my child.”

  Jarena snatched her hands away as though they’d been touched by a hot poker. “Aunt Lilly! That’s not possible, and you shouldn’t say such a thing!”

  Pain settled in Lilly’s heart as she opened the folder Georgie had delivered. She should have known that would be Jarena’s reaction. She lifted out her certificate of freedom and then handed the folder to Jarena. She watched as Jarena stared at the birth document. “Georgie told me his mother saw these papers. I was afraid she’d tell everyone in town. I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else.”

  “This isn’t possible. I was born in Kentucky, not New Orleans. This is something you made up and put on this paper.”

  Lilly heard the words but was without the strength to argue. She could no longer keep her eyes open. She slipped back into a state of unconsciousness.

  Jarena held the paper between her fingers while Lilly’s words repeated in her ears like a clanging bell. The unwelcome clamor refused to fade away. Jarena wanted to shake Lilly out of her unconscious stupor and force her to take back the claim. She tossed the piece of paper onto the bed and rushed downstairs.

  She wanted to speak with her father, but that was impossible—at least until Sunday. There was no one else to talk to about this, and Jarena suddenly felt very alone. She dropped into an overstuffed chair in the parlor and folded her arms across her chest. She rocked back and forth while tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Through tear-blurred vision, she examined her arms. No one could deny her skin was several shades lighter than the twins’, though she wasn’t nearly as pale as Lilly. What about her father? Had he been white or colored? Her thoughts swirled as she dropped forward until her face rested in her lap. With her voice muted by the fabric of her skirt, Jarena sobbed—deep, heaving moans of agonizing pain.

  A loud knock startled her, and Jarena sat up and wiped at her face with the corner of her apron. Had Georgie returned to bring even more proof of her heritage? She was sure her face was puffy and tear-stained, yet Mrs. Boyle would begin thumping on her bedroom floor if the knocking continued. Jarena kept her face turned downward as she opened the door.

  “Jarena! I was beginning to wonder if anyone was goi
ng to answer.”

  She immediately recognized the voice and glanced up in spite of herself. “Moses.” His look registered surprise, and she hastily turned away. “I must look a fright. Please forgive me.”

  “May I come in, Jarena?”

  “Of course.” She stepped aside to permit him entry. “Forgive me. I’m weary and am having a rather tearful day. I trust you won’t tell Dr. Boyle. I wouldn’t want him to think me incapable of caring for his wife and the house.”

  “And your aunt Lilly,” Moses added.

  “Yes—Aunt Lilly.”

  Jarena felt numb, as though she’d been sucked into a place where nothing could touch her, where nothing could make her feel better or worse. She wondered if this was how Aunt Lilly felt in her current state of unconsciousness—a part of the event and yet separate, somehow floating above and observing the entire scene.

  Moses could not know. She must act as if nothing had happened. “Have you had any word from Truth?” Her question was silly. If Moses had received a letter, he would have been shouting with joy. Instead he appeared somber—almost sad.

  “No, nothing. I don’t suppose the Boyles have heard anything from Macia or the school?”

  “Dr. Boyle hasn’t mentioned a letter. I believe he would have come and talked to you.” She felt ridiculous carrying on this inane conversation while her aunt lay upstairs professing to be her mother. The very thought made her want to scream. “Did you want to speak to Dr. Boyle? He hasn’t returned home. I’m certain you’ll find him at his office.”

  Moses pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his forehead. “Warm today, isn’t it?” He folded the square and shoved it back into his pocket. “In reality, I came to speak to you, Jarena, but since you’re not feeling well . . .”

  “I’m feeling fine. Merely weary from tending to Mrs. Boyle and Aunt Lilly. Oh, you’re wondering if I’ve completed my article for the newspaper. That’s it, isn’t it? I must apologize, for what with—” “No, Jarena. I’ve . . . I’ve had word from Fort Concho.”