Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(93)

She sighed when we came to the inside stairway. “I don’t know if I am strong enough to climb all of those stairs, Mr. Burton. I believe I might be too weak.”

“Miss Adelaide, do I have your permission to carry you?” I asked.

“You do,” she said, and when I scooped her up, she dropped her head against my shoulder. Her hand rested softly against my chest. “This is really quite romantic,” she said, sighing again, and in spite of the trauma of the day, I fought back a chuckle.

“Well, today you are a heroine,” I said.

“Do you think so, Mr. Burton?” she asked as I carried her to her room.

“Indeed I do,” I said.

The patient was welcomed into her room with great fanfare. As Hester settled her on her bed, Addy pulled her down to whisper in her ear: “Did I do well, Hester?”

Hester smoothed Addy’s hair back from her face while giving her a soft look. “You did real good, Miss Addy. You did jus’ like your own mama woulda done.”

Patty stood back, nervously observing her older sister. “Did he hurt you?” she asked. “It sounded like he hurt you.”

“Come here, dearest,” Addy said to her, tapping the bed. “Come here beside me. I’ve missed you, Patty Pat.” When Patricia burst into tears and ran to her, I left them to Hester.

Downstairs, I met Mr. Spencer on the way to his study. He motioned for me to follow, and once there he poured each of us a double measure of whiskey. He tossed his down and I followed suit, welcoming the hot surge.

“Sit,” Mr. Spencer commanded as he removed a pistol from the interior of his jacket and set it on his desk, but I remained standing, anxious to see Pan.

“Do you want me to bring the boy in?” I asked.

“No,” he said, pointing to a chair as he took a seat. “At this moment he’s as safe in the barn as he is in here. But we need to get him away from this property as soon as possible.”

“I’ll leave with him tonight! We’ll get down to Edenton and sail out from there,” I said.

“No, they’ll be watching for the two of you. Thomas will have his men all over the place. You must remain here at least for a few days after the boy leaves. That way you’ll avoid suspicion. The boy will stay here tonight, but by tomorrow we’ll have to get him up to Norfolk.”

“How will we do that?” I asked.

“I have my ways,” he said.

I studied the man I thought I had known. Why would he risk his life and his family’s safety for a young Negro? After all, he was a slave owner himself.

I had to ask. “Why are you—”

He anticipated my question. “Look, I believe in minding my own business, but there are times when one can’t look the other way. Weeks ago, after the boy first arrived, Sukey sent word to Hester about getting him out. She had taken a liking to him and was afraid of what Thomas would do to him. This morning, after Sukey heard the trader was coming today, she hid the boy. Fortunately, Thomas didn’t think we were coming for Addy until tomorrow, and he was out in the field, so after we got Addy settled in the wagon, we stopped at the barns where the boy was hidden.”

“So that’s why Sukey kept trying to tell me to get him out!”

“If Thomas ever finds out how many that woman has . . .” He stopped himself, then looked me in the eye. “I have told you more than might be wise. Now you must tell me what your interest is in this boy.”

“I would be happy to tell you everything, but might we first get Pan into my room?”

“As you wish,” he agreed, and heaved himself up from the chair.

We found the frightened boy in the safety of the barn, still hidden under quilts in the wagon. I kept him wrapped when I scooped him up, as though carrying a bundle of quilts down to my room. Free of the blankets, the boy was wet with perspiration. When I had him remove his clothes in exchange for a dry nightshirt of mine, I was shocked to see how frail he looked.

Hester brought some bread and cheese. Pan refused the food but greedily drained a mug of milk. I took the empty cup from his quivering hand.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Burton,” he said, “but I can’t make myself stop shaking.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “That can happen when you’ve had a fright.” I had him climb into the bed and pull the covers up around himself.

“I was so scared,” he said. “I thought you’d go without me.”

“Don’t you worry,” I said, trying to insert conviction. “We’re going to get you home safe.”

He studied me with sunken eyes but managed a smile. How unlike he was from the carefree boy I had known. I had to tell him about his father, but now was not the time. “You rest,” I said, and left then for the study, where Mr. Spencer awaited me.

He was seated in his worn armchair and lifted a glass toward me. “Pour another for yourself,” he invited, but I declined as I took a seat. Now more than ever, I needed clarity. How much should I tell this man? And what was he about? Not certain where to begin, I looked around to give myself time.

The room was comfortable enough but not furnished in a lavish way. There were a few good pieces, a highboy to the side and a red settee that showed age; a stack of books that appeared to be accounting records rather than literary works rested on a large but simple oak desk. The windows were covered by green wooden shades, tilted open to allow in an early-evening breeze. One of them rattled, startling me. Quickly, I glanced toward it but, reassured that it was only a breeze, I turned back to my host.