Wild, Beautiful, and Free(30)

While I was looking out, I noticed a baking shop with lots of pretty little cakes in the window.

“Come with me, Lynne,” I said. “I want to buy us some treats for the rest of our way.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’ll be all right. It’s just here on the street.”

I opened the door and helped her out.

“Jean, we’ll be just a minute,” I said. “Look after Jeremiah and Fanny.”

He glanced around and nodded. Cal was on the other side of the horses, and he nodded also.

When I walked in the store, the delicious scent of sugar and dough nearly brought me to tears. Aunt Nancy Lynne’s kitchen had smelled like this on the nights we’d done her baking. I thought of how much she might enjoy having a little shop like this of her own. But then I gathered myself and selected some small cakes with icing. The woman put them in a box, and I paid for them with Aunt Nancy Lynne’s money. I gave the box to Lynne, and she followed me out of the store. I was stunned to see, just that fast, there was a white man standing very close to Jean and speaking to him. Cal was already up on the driving seat and looked ready to bolt if necessary.

“Jean!” I called out, keeping my voice nice and light. “We’re all ready. Please help Lynne get my cakes in the carriage. I don’t want them to be a mess of crumbs when we get to Papa’s.”

He moved quickly and did what I said.

I looked at the white man. A sense of something that felt like Madame—yes, Madame—came up within me. I knew at once how to look and what to say.

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually speak to men to whom I haven’t been properly introduced. Was my man causing a problem?”

He looked flustered. He took off his hat and opened his mouth to say something, but then a deep, huge voice boomed out.

“Tolins!”

The voice belonged to a tall, round-bellied man wearing pants with suspenders and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up on his thick arms. He was wiping his hands on a cloth, and I realized he worked in one of the shops across the street. He walked slowly up to the man Tolins.

“I hope you’re not interfering with this nice lady and her property.” He put his hands on his hips. “Are you now?”

Tolins stepped back. “Not at all.”

“Ma’am,” the stranger said, “this here one of those abolitionists. They like to stir things up.”

“I see.”

“You go on your way. Don’t mind him.”

I curtsied to the stranger. “Thank you kindly, sir. I am much obliged.”

Jean came round and opened the door and helped me into the carriage. I thought about giving Tolins a sign of some sort to let him know we were on the same side. I couldn’t think of anything to do, but then I thought better of it. I didn’t know what would happen between Tolins and the man after we left. The encounter helped me see more clearly the dangers of the route. I had been foolish.

Lynne’s hands were shaking. I took the box of cakes from her. I had planned on giving the children the cakes in the carriage, but it would be better to wait until we were safe in Philadelphia. I took Lynne’s hands in both my own.

“We’re all right,” I said once we were on the road again.

We were quiet for a while. Jeremiah and Fanny fell asleep against Lynne.

“How you come to talk like that?” she asked.

“I was raised in a white family.”

“They didn’t keep you?”

“No. They didn’t keep me.” I smiled. That was a nice way to put it. “But I’m glad I’m here with you and your boy and your girl.”

That was the truth.

Mr. Dillingham had given me the written directions for the house that would be our destination in Philadelphia. I called out to Jean which way to go, and after a while he let out a loud whoop.

“We here!” he cried out. “We here!”

Lynne and I didn’t wait for anyone to open our door. We jumped out and pulled the children after us, and we all embraced and just jumped up and down and laughed.

Laughed.

I looked at the children—it was the first time in two years I’d felt anything like joy.

A negro man—in a suit!—opened the door of the town house and extended his arms. I detected a smile under his thick black mustache.

“Welcome, my friends,” he said.

He shook Jean’s and Cal’s hands.

“I’m Fenn, Fenn Mosher,” he said. He rubbed Jeremiah’s head. “Come in, come in. You must be tired.”

“Naw, sir,” Cal said. “Right about now, I feel like flying!”

Mr. Mosher turned to me. “You are the group’s fearless leader.”

“Don’t think I’m a leader or fearless, but I was happy to help.”

Inside we were joined by the home’s owners, a Quaker couple whose name was Phillips, Robert and Deborah. Mr. Mosher, as it turned out, was a free man who also lived in Philadelphia and helped the newly freed get established. They had laid out for us what amounted to a holiday feast—roasted turkey and potatoes and yams and corn bread. I gave the children the cakes for dessert, but we had pie on the table too.

We told Mr. Mosher and the Phillipses what had happened in Havre de Grace. They all knew Tolins.