Authors: Denise Daisy
Emily opens the door, and we slip inside. I scan the room for Quillan, an obvious sign of my love for him, according to Mike. He’s standing by the open window, looking outside, and turns to face us at the sound of our arrival. Since I am his wife right now, I play the part, joining him. When I glance out the open shutters, my resolve wavers. From his vantage point, he has a perfect view of the garden pond. I hope the sounds from the garden do not drift this far.
James Faulkner stands and slides the bolt in place, locking the door. Emily’s eyes are wide in fear as she takes her place near the bed by Lunar’s side. With as much strength as he can muster, Lunar tries to sit up, but Mr. Faulkner raises his hand. “Stay where you are, Lunar. There’s no need to get up.”
Mr. Faulkner pulls some papers from his coat and stares at Lunar. “When I became aware of your betrayal to me by becoming involved with my only child, I immediately listed you for sale and attained a buyer up in North Carolina. He has made plans to travel this way after rice harvest, pay my asking price, and take you back with him. Things being what they are, there’s a need to expedite your dismissal.”
I hear Emily gasp, and I wish I hadn’t tossed the ring so soon. Damn my impulsiveness.
“Daddy!” Emily interrupts, but he raises his hand again.
“Hear me out, Emily, and trust me when I say I have your best interest in mind. I sent a telegram canceling the sale.” He hands the papers to Lunar. “I’m giving you your freedom and asking you to take one final trip on the Underground.” Mr. Faulkner’s chin quivers and anguish weakens his voice. “Take Emily and head up North. You will have a better life there.”
Emily covers her mouth as tears stream down her face. My heart is pounding. We’ve done it! James Faulkner is not going to execute Lunar, and now Emily has no reason to hang herself. I want to run across the room and hug Mr. Faulkner myself, but Emily beats me to it. “Oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy,” she repeats over and over. James gives into his tears and holds her tight.
“Master Faulkner,” Lunar interrupts the love fest, “as much as I do appreciate your kindness to me in this matter, I cannot be so selfish as to head North for a better life when my family will remain here and suffer, yourself included.” He hands back the papers. “If you want to take back my freedom, I understand. But I won’t jump off a sinking ship and let everyone else drown just to save myself.”
I hold my breath ’cause it’s what you do when you’re going under. My dinghy of hope just capsized big time.
Emily tenses up, a new terror sweeping over her face as her eyes dart back and forth between her lover and her father.
Mr. Faulkner stares hard at Lunar. I’m hoping he’s not offended by Lunar’s refusal to go along with the plan. He was gracious, to say the least. Anyone would think Lunar would jump at the chance. I, for one, understand his reasoning not to. If I was given the chance to go back to the future before we completed our mission, I reckon I’d do the same. I would stay and give back my walking papers.
“This is the kind of integrity I always hoped my daughter would find in the man she chose to marry.” James refuses the papers. “I have no intention of taking back your freedom.”
“Then as a free man, it is my wish to stay here and work the plantation.” Lunar surprises us all.
“Agreed,” Mr. Faulkner says. “After rice harvest, you will take the east side of the property and construct a house fitting for you and Emily.”
“After I build better housing for the slaves,” he says.
The silence hangs in the room like a thick blanket. I’m praying Mr. Faulkner doesn’t have a change of heart, wrap a rope around Lunar’s neck, and start dragging him to the trees.
“You have nine months to do both.” James will not be outdone. “My grandchild will need a proper home when he arrives.”
I nudge Quillan. His lips melt into a meaningful smile. We both know they’re talking about him. He slips his hand in mine, and I am thrilled, because according to Mike’s theory, Quillan must love me, too.
“Thank you, Sir,” Lunar agrees this time.
“Thank you.” James nods to Lunar and then gives me a knowing smile. He turns to us before leaving the room. “This is between us. There’s no need to spread the word. Let history tell our story for us.”
We all nod. I swallow hard and pray the story history tells will be better than the last.
After I manage to break free from Emily’s tight hugs and continual gratitude for whatever I said to her daddy, I slip out of the room and head for the kitchen. My appetite is back, and I am starving. I missed lunch because of the incident in town, and I ignored the dinner bell as I figured eating wasn’t near as important as trying to convince James not to hang Lunar. Come to think of it, I don’t believe he has it in him to hurt anyone, so I’m wondering who it was that actually hung Lunar. The legend says James did and then feasted with his friends. Knowing him the way I do now, it is totally out of character for him.
The house is dark now. The Faulkners have turned in, and all is quiet except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock. I tiptoe down the massive staircase, allowing my full skirt to fan out as I turn the corner. My spirit is giddy, and I feel beautiful like a princess in a castle, so I run back up the stairs and do it again. I’m running up the staircase for a third time when I notice Quillan smiling at me from the top. I bet my face is as purple as the imported rug I’m standing on.
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s fun.” Quillan smiles, bows, and then offers his elbow to escort me down. I take it, and together we descend the staircase like a king and queen with me giggling the entire way.
Pearl left me a nice plate of food, figuring I would get hungry later. Unfortunately, microwaves have not been invented yet. I have no desire to feast on cold rice, pot roast, carrots, and summer squash this late at night, so I take to the pantry and retrieve bread, goat cheese, and blackberries.
We take our little banquet to the veranda off the kitchen and sit on a big porch swing that faces the east side of the property. The night air is brisk, so Quillan wraps a beautifully crocheted blanket around my shoulders and sits down close to me. He pushes off, and we sway gently back and forth, swinging and munching on blackberries.
“You spent a lot of time in the garden this evening.” Quillan doesn’t disappoint me. I was wondering how long it would be before he brought the subject up.
“Yep.” I try being nonchalant and pop another blackberry into my mouth. “It’s a good thinking spot.”
“I couldn’t help notice you got pretty upset when Mike came in there with you. Everything okay?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We didn’t resolve anything. I walked away and then came upstairs.”
“You were arguing?”
“Not really. Mike’s looking out for me as usual. I can’t fault him for that.”
Quillan nods and hands me a chunk of bread layered with goat cheese and then places a large blackberry on top. “Here try this.”
I bite into his creation, and the blackberry explodes, sending its juice running down my chin. Quillan laughs and wipes my face with his hand. Again, I swoon with his touch, something that has never happened with Mike.
He doesn’t take his hand off my face. Instead, he rubs his thumb across my bottom lip. We’re barely rocking in the swing, but the way my spirit feels, I’d swear we were pushing it to the limit. I close my eyes as he moves in, replacing his thumb with his lips.
My heart races, making it difficult to catch my breath. My entire body is on fire. My hands tremble as I reach out and stroke the sides of his jaw. He pulls away slowly, and I open my eyes. He’s smiling at me, but something behind him steals my grin and draws my attention away. Standing in the yard, looking up at me with those big dark eyes, is little Hope. She’s filthy, and a look of terror covers her small face.
“Hope?” I ask, nearly jumping off the porch to get her. I hear a rustling in the bushes. Before I realize what’s happening, someone leaps from the shadows and grabs me.
“Is this the pretty princess who helped you?” I hear Slimy’s pathetic voice in my ear. Hope nods, looking more frightened than before. I twist, trying to break loose of the bastard’s clutches, but he yanks my arms so hard, I swear he has pulled both elbows out of socket.
“Let her go!” Quillan surprises me by pulling a pistol.
Slimy uses me as shield, moving me directly in front of him. “Go ahead, shoot me,” he challenges. Stepping from the shadows, Seedy makes his appearance with a huge bandage covering his nose. My heart drops. He’s toting a gun, aiming at Quillan. It’s late and no one else is awake. We’re outnumbered. These men have no scruples, so there’s no telling what their plan is.
“Seems the varmint done identified your wife as the person who helped her escape.” Seedy’s voice sounds even more hick now that his nose is broken. “According to the Fugitive Slave Act, that makes her a criminal. As deputies of the law, we have the right to administer the proper punishment.”
Quillan’s gray eyes cloud in rage. “I’ll pay whatever the fine may be, but you turn her loose right now.”
I try pulling away again, but Slimy’s hold is tight. “Now, see here.” His breath is hot against my neck. “The way I figure it, people like you think you can just name a price and pay your troubles away. But it’s this Underground that’s costin’ us a lot, and I don’t think you abolitionists understand just how much. To add insult to the injury, you’re from the South, owning slaves yourself, so it makes you a traitor, and we all know what the penalty for that is. I say it’s time to make a statement.”
The words have no more spilt from his mouth when a third man appears with a rope fashioned in a hangman’s noose and slips it over my head. My legs go weak as the roughness of the cord tightens against my neck. My heart is racing like a stampede of horses thundering against my chest. I find it hard to swallow. I want to loosen the rope, but I can’t because Slimy has my arms pinned down.
Quillan pulls back on the hammer, cocking the gun, ready to shoot. “Let her go now, or I’ll kill one of you. Who’s it going to be?”
“You shoot me; I shoot you.” Seedy spits in the grass. “She still hangs.”
Slimy yanks my hair, pulling my head back. I can’t see Quillan anymore, only the tops of the trees and the night sky.
“She’s a pretty thing. Shame to end the life of one so young and beautiful, don’t you think?”
I try and get away again, but with every move, the noose around my neck tightens along with the grip Slimy has on my hair. I cry out in pain, even though I’m hell-bent on not letting him know he’s causing me to suffer.
“I say we drag her through town and hang her in front of the courthouse as a warning for anyone else who thinks they’re too rich and powerful to obey the law,” Seedy suggests. Slimy laughs, agreeing it’s the best idea he’s heard all day.
I lose my footing, stumbling backward. Terror grips me, just as tight as the noose around my neck. Everything becomes a blur as I am dragged away. In the fog, I get a glimpse of Quillan leaping from the porch, followed by an explosion of light and the distant echo of a gun blast. The incident draws Slimy’s attention away long enough for me to push my head forward. I search for Quillan and get a brief glimpse of him punching Seedy before Slimy yanks the rope, pulling my head back again. I try to swallow, but the rope restricts my efforts, cutting into my neck, making it almost impossible to breathe. I can hear the ruckus, but unfortunately, I can’t get enough air to keep fully alert.
Slimy stops at a wagon, whether he intends on hoisting me in the back or hanging me right there I can’t tell. Tightening the noose, he releases his grip on my arms and throws me over his shoulder. Using every ounce of strength I have, I begin pounding on his back and pulling at his greasy hair. It’s my only chance to get away. In one swift move, he slams me down on the hardwood floor of the wagon bed. Pain explodes in my head, radiating down my body, making me go numb. He crawls on top of me. He’s breathing heavy, blowing his scalding breath against my face. I try to push him off, but I can’t move my arms. My body is heavy like dead weight.
The sounds of the scuffle are fading, replaced by the steady beating of my heart, pounding out its rhythm against my head. Another gun blast echoes across the night. I hear a soft
thud
, as if a body has fallen in the thick grass. All is quiet now. Please God, don’t let Quillan be dead. We’ve come so far, saving Lunar and Emily, giving him his chance at life only to be gunned down before it can start. If he dies here, does he die inside the womb as well?
“Take us someplace private,” Slimy orders his friend who’s driving the wagon.
“No!” I scream and fight against him, drawing on any strength left in me. He laughs and moves in closer, his eyes heavy with lust. Licking his lips, he moves toward mine. I turn my head. There is no way I will let him erase the beautiful memory of the kiss Quillan gave me a short time ago, but he jerks my face back and holds it in place.
The wagon bumps, knocking him off balance. Before he can regain his stance, I kick him hard. The wagon is flying across the grass now, bouncing along out of control. Slimy teeters backward, falling on his rear. I rise up, every muscle throbbing. I push past the agony and jump, figuring it’s my only chance. Ignoring the pain that detonates through my body, I scramble up on all fours, forcing myself to run. My escape is short-lived when Slimy jumps me from behind, sending me crashing to the unyielding ground. Grabbing the rope, he tightens the noose again and uses it like a leash as he drags me across the ground back to the wagon. Everything goes dark as the air grows thin. I go to a happy place in my mind, and I am transported to the pond, the night Quillan and I slept under the stars. I can see them, and they are more brilliant than ever. I search for a shooting star so I can wish for this torture to pass quickly. I can feel my head resting on Quillan’s chest along with the touch of his hand pushing my hair away from my face. His lips press against mine as he ushers life into my soul. His breath is heavenly, consuming me. I gasp, choking on the rush of air flooding my lungs.