Yellow Wife(63)

“Well, running ain’t for the weakhearted. Them woods get mighty terrifying at night when you out in the middle of nowhere by yourself. Worst was when I came upon a wolf.”

“How do you know it was not a coyote?” I teased.

“I know a wolf when I sees one, and I was sure she had a notion to tear me to shreds. I climbed up in a tree and stayed there for three days waiting for her to pass. It wasn’t until I saw four runaways below that I came down.”

“They saved you?”

“Ain’t need much saving but I sure needed food.” He chuckled. Still had that hearty, deep-throated laugh and it reminded me of home.

“I still had the pass you wrote me. My plan was to get to a boat and beg passage up to Baltimore, so I stayed close to the water.”

“What was the worst part?”

“Being hungry. Never enough food or fresh water. I went days without eating.”

He had stuck to Aunt Hope’s plan the best he could. By the time he made it to Baltimore, the fellow she had told him about had moved on. But just using his name had gotten him a job working the docks.

“That is how I saved money to get on to Philadelphia.”

“I always wanted to go to Philadelphia.”

“Ain’t never seen that many freed men and women in one place in all my days. They sure could dress. But I only stayed a few months; always had in my mind that I needed to reach Massachusetts to find you. The farther north I got, easier to breathe. Air different up there.”

As I listened to him, I could not help but wonder if he had taken up with another woman. He did not disclose, and I could not bear to ask.

“What caused your capture?”

“I reckon my love for horses.”

Essex, slowly and, from the looks of it, painfully stretched his legs out in front of him and told me about his jobs in Boston. During the day he worked at a clothing store; in the evenings he tended to people’s horses.

“Word spread that I was the horseman, so I became easy to find.” He shook his head, and I could see that the memory sat fresh.

“The day I was taken to the ship became a day of mourning for the city.”

Essex described the scene for me. Thousands of protesters, organized by black and white abolitionist groups, had lined the streets of Boston to watch him walk in shackles toward the waterfront, where the vessel waited to carry him back to Virginia. Every business along the route to the ship was draped in black sheets and the American flag hung upside down. A coffin sat in the middle of Main Street with the words HERE LIES LIBERTY.

“We sailed for eight days and I was treated fairly on the ship. Naw’fok was a different story. People shouted and spit at me, threw things at me all the way to the jail.”

He looked over at me. “I would do it all again because I finally found you. You still so lovely.”

I blushed and squeezed his hand. “Our son is in danger. We need to get him to freedom.”

“Us to freedom.” He leaned in and kissed me. I’d forgotten how good he tasted. Desire for him pulsated below my navel and rested like a weight against my thigh. I pulled away.

“Who do I need to write?”

Essex dictated what he wanted me to say, then had me repeat the address until he felt convinced I had it committed to memory.

“I have never stopped loving you, Pheby.”

“Hush now.” I put my finger to his mouth. Then my lips were on his and we kissed again. “You get some rest.” I blew out the candle. As I locked the door behind me my whole face smiled. Essex could always lighten my mood, even in the worst situations. That is when I saw Sissy on the balcony watching me. Her room sat atop the tavern, directly across from the garret room. I made eye contact with her, lifted my skirts, and hurried along.

My breath quickened as I slipped back into the big house. When I reached the hallway upstairs, the Jailer’s bedroom door sat ajar. I knew that I’d left it closed. I crept to my room as quietly as possible, but a creaking floorboard betrayed me.

“Pheby?”

“Yes?”

The mattress squeaked as he got up; then he was standing in the doorway in his sleeping gown. “Where did you go?”

“To check on the children?”

He looked me over, then demanded that I come to his bed. I had no time to write down the message or the address that Essex gave me. I needed to smother the Jailer’s suspicions. When I laid down next to him, he tucked me in the crook of his arm and began to breathe heavily. In my head, I recited the address and the message until they sounded as familiar to me as my own name.





CHAPTER 30




The Letter

Most days I pressed through my work unprompted: tended to the fancy girls, raised our daughters, tried to keep Monroe safe, and aided the half acre in running properly. There was little in my daily activity that spoke to me. After spending two nights with Essex, I felt something turn inside of me. It happened as fast as the sun slipping behind the clouds. My spirit had been asleep, and now I was awake and thirsting with purpose.

I imagined myself as the heroine from one of my novels. I would get that letter off to Essex’s friend in the North so he could reclaim his freedom and take our son to safety. But I needed a plan. There was no way I could risk entering the post office and customhouse on Main Street unaccompanied. It would get back to the Jailer before I made it home. I would have to find someone to do it for me. Who could I trust? I moved through my morning routine considering my options.