than once she thought she glimpsed a man slipping out of sight. Hiding her anxiety, she met other Friends also on their way to meeting andexchanged quiet greetings. Still, uppermost in her mind was how to smuggle away the runaway in her attic.
Blessing caught sight of her father helping her mother down from their wagon, and she hurried forward, her spirits lifting. Her parents did not drive into town for meeting every First Day. Maybe they could take the runaway home with them. Better to get the woman away quickly while the catchers kept vigil in the city.
She waited till her mother was standing beside her father before she greeted them, using both her voice and her fingers in sign language since her father was deaf. Grateful for the subtlety of the signs, she explained her need without speaking.
Both parents kissed her cheek in greeting but responded that their hidden room was already occupied and that their house was being watched by two slave catchers at the moment. Joanna’s parents, Judah and Royale, had stayed home on watch.
Mulling over this disappointing news, Blessing also greeted her younger sisters and brother, along with her honorary cousin, Caleb. They entered the meetinghouse as a family. When she looked around the quiet place, unadorned and plain, Blessing was comforted. All the long years of exile during her marriage—nearly six—she had missed this place of solace, missed being close to God and his people.
As Blessing followed her mother to the women’s side, she prayed silently. Where to take the runaway and how to smuggle her out unseen wouldn’t let go. She kept trying to give the problem to God—and then snatching it back.
Gerard Ramsay woke to the pealing of the Sunday church bells. He groaned and rolled over, pulling his soft pillows over his ears. He’d been careful not to drink enough to slur his speech or cause him to sway as he walked, but he’d imbibed more than he’d intended.
Guilt niggled at him and he pushed it away. He was not going to sink into the bottle like Kennan. And his evening had been productive: he’d gleaned many facts about racing in the Cincinnati area and had gotten the names of a few local bookmakers, men who could give him even more information about racing and the players and powers around here.
The Quakeress came to mind again, uninvited. The way she’d examined him at the docks and the way she’d looked at Stoddard. Perhaps he’d accomplished his goal already. If Blessing Brightman informed Miss Tippy Foster that her true love frequented the riverfront at night, that might be enough to break their romance in two.
Gerard closed his dry, gritty eyes and tried to go back to sleep in spite of the infernal bells calling the hypocrites, dressed in their Sunday best, to sit in the pews and judge each other.
Sitting on the same bench as her mother and her four sisters—Jamaica and Constance, both in their early twenties, and nine-year-old twins Patience and Faith—Blessing began centering herself, the traditional way Friends prepared themselves for worship.
Several years earlier, many Quakers had decided to adopt the ways of worship of other Christian churches, with a set program including music and a sermon. However, she and her parents were Hicksites and had kept to the old ways, still following the tradition of worship tuned to the Light of Christ.
She began to seek God’s peace. One by one, worries rushed over her like waves—Gerard Ramsay, Stoddard Henry and Tippy Foster, the poor woman who’d given her Luke last night, the baby’s thin body, and the frightened escaped slave hiding in her attic. She prayed over each one and tried to dismiss it from her mind, sending all of them to God. The tension she’d come in with began to ease.
All around her, the other Friends were doing the same. Or she supposed they were. What person could really know another’s thoughts? But that deep quiet of meeting began to settle over the large room. Even the
Blessing caught sight of her father helping her mother down from their wagon, and she hurried forward, her spirits lifting. Her parents did not drive into town for meeting every First Day. Maybe they could take the runaway home with them. Better to get the woman away quickly while the catchers kept vigil in the city.
She waited till her mother was standing beside her father before she greeted them, using both her voice and her fingers in sign language since her father was deaf. Grateful for the subtlety of the signs, she explained her need without speaking.
Both parents kissed her cheek in greeting but responded that their hidden room was already occupied and that their house was being watched by two slave catchers at the moment. Joanna’s parents, Judah and Royale, had stayed home on watch.
Mulling over this disappointing news, Blessing also greeted her younger sisters and brother, along with her honorary cousin, Caleb. They entered the meetinghouse as a family. When she looked around the quiet place, unadorned and plain, Blessing was comforted. All the long years of exile during her marriage—nearly six—she had missed this place of solace, missed being close to God and his people.
As Blessing followed her mother to the women’s side, she prayed silently. Where to take the runaway and how to smuggle her out unseen wouldn’t let go. She kept trying to give the problem to God—and then snatching it back.
Gerard Ramsay woke to the pealing of the Sunday church bells. He groaned and rolled over, pulling his soft pillows over his ears. He’d been careful not to drink enough to slur his speech or cause him to sway as he walked, but he’d imbibed more than he’d intended.
Guilt niggled at him and he pushed it away. He was not going to sink into the bottle like Kennan. And his evening had been productive: he’d gleaned many facts about racing in the Cincinnati area and had gotten the names of a few local bookmakers, men who could give him even more information about racing and the players and powers around here.
The Quakeress came to mind again, uninvited. The way she’d examined him at the docks and the way she’d looked at Stoddard. Perhaps he’d accomplished his goal already. If Blessing Brightman informed Miss Tippy Foster that her true love frequented the riverfront at night, that might be enough to break their romance in two.
Gerard closed his dry, gritty eyes and tried to go back to sleep in spite of the infernal bells calling the hypocrites, dressed in their Sunday best, to sit in the pews and judge each other.
Sitting on the same bench as her mother and her four sisters—Jamaica and Constance, both in their early twenties, and nine-year-old twins Patience and Faith—Blessing began centering herself, the traditional way Friends prepared themselves for worship.
Several years earlier, many Quakers had decided to adopt the ways of worship of other Christian churches, with a set program including music and a sermon. However, she and her parents were Hicksites and had kept to the old ways, still following the tradition of worship tuned to the Light of Christ.
She began to seek God’s peace. One by one, worries rushed over her like waves—Gerard Ramsay, Stoddard Henry and Tippy Foster, the poor woman who’d given her Luke last night, the baby’s thin body, and the frightened escaped slave hiding in her attic. She prayed over each one and tried to dismiss it from her mind, sending all of them to God. The tension she’d come in with began to ease.
All around her, the other Friends were doing the same. Or she supposed they were. What person could really know another’s thoughts? But that deep quiet of meeting began to settle over the large room. Even the
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