Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [37]
“I’ve made up my mind,” I said firmly. “I’ve decided to go to Hilltop instead of Philadelphia. I’ll go tell Daddy. He’ll let you come with me to Hilltop.”
She caught my arm in time to pull me back. “Listen, child. Your daddy won’t let me go there, either. I certain of that.”
“But why not?” Tessie didn’t answer. I lifted her chin so I could see her face. “Is it because of Josiah? I know you’re secretly married—”
“Hush your mouth!” Tessie’s eyes went wide with fear. “Don’t you ever say such a thing in this house!”
“Is that why Daddy sold Josiah to Hilltop . . . so you couldn’t be together?”
She pulled me into her arms, smothering my words as if trying to smother flames. “Child, don’t you go around opening doors that are better off closed and locked. It only lead to trouble— especially for Josiah. Forget you ever ask all these questions. Leave things the way they are. Promise?”
I nodded.
“You go on with your aunt to Philadelphia. Then, if you don’t like it there, you can always come on home to Richmond again. And I be here waiting for you.”
I watched Eli carry my trunk downstairs to the carriage the next morning and wondered who I would share all my troubles with in Philadelphia, who would answer all my questions. Gilbert was driving us to the train station, so this was the last time I would see Eli. The thought of saying good-bye to him made my heart ache inside, but when he returned to my room for the last load, I knew I had to try.
“I wish I didn’t have to go away to Philadelphia,” I said.
He nodded, his gray head bowed in grief. “I know . . . I know. Sure won’t be the same around here without my Little Missy. No one asking me questions all the time . . . no one to drive to school. . . .”
I was a grown girl of sixteen, too old for a mammy, too old to sit on Eli’s lap and listen to his stories. But when he finally looked up at me and I saw the love and the tears in his eyes, I was a child again. I ran into his arms. He hugged me as tightly as Tessie had.
“I’ll miss you so much, Eli!”
“Me too, Little Missy . . . me too.” When we finally let go, he wiped my tears with his thumb. “You remember to hide all them words I teach you in your heart . . . you hear?”
I nodded, tapping my chest the way Grady used to do. “They’re in there, Eli.”
“And anything too big for you, just take it to Massa Jesus.”
“I will.” I thought about Eli’s terrible secret, the secret that could get him killed. I stood on tiptoe to kiss his bearded cheek and whispered, “Be careful, Eli.” Then I turned away so I wouldn’t have to watch him go.
Chapter Seven
Philadelphia, February 1857
Our train arrived in Philadelphia in the middle of a blizzard. I’d never felt such cold, damp air before, or a wind that sucked away my breath the way this one did. My uncle, Judge Philip Hoffman, had come to the station with a driver and a sleigh to meet us, but I remember little else of that day except the bitter cold and my aching homesickness—a longing that had increased with every mile that separated me from Richmond and the people I loved.
In the months to come, I would visit all of Center City’s famous landmarks and sights, but on that first day, places such as Penn Square and Independence Hall were hidden behind a blinding curtain of white. I knew we had crossed the Schuylkill River into West Philadelphia only because Uncle Philip told me we had. He was a portly, dignified man with receding hair and piercing eyes. I could easily imagine how his stern demeanor would strike fear in any criminals who stood trial before him, yet he was very gentle and kind to me. As we traveled through the storm, he asked me politely about my journey and the accommodations on the train. I couldn’t answer; my mouth and my heart seemed as frozen as the landscape. I was grateful when Aunt Martha signaled for him to stop with a gentle shake of her head.
The horses labored uphill through the snow, coming at last to a wealthy residential suburb and a large gray stone house that blended