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Authors: Jennifer Hudson Taylor
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bottom to give them more fresh air, and it's a couple of inches wider,” John said.
“What about Marta? Will it be wide enough for a pregnant woman?” Bruce asked, folding his arms.
“It'll have to be.” John sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his neck. “It's the best we've got.”
5
F lora folded a quilt and laid it on top of the others in the trunk. She wanted to be sure to pack enough for all of them when the cold weather set in, as well as for Marta and Jim. Irene packed another trunk full of cooking pots and utensils. Their mother checked off a list she held in her hand.
“I still wish we were going by train.” Irene closed the lid and slid the lock in place. “This one's packed.”
“Thee will get over thy disappointment soon enough.” Mother removed her spectacles from her nose and waved them in the air. “I'm beginning to worry about thy priorities, Irene. Should I be concerned?”
“Of course not!” Irene sat on top of her trunk. “I'm only disappointed, is all.”
“She's still young, Sarah.” Father folded his paper and set it on the end table by his cushioned chair. “There's plenty of time for her to develop a conscience about such things.”
“Young and fanciful.” Mother walked to the couch and sank upon it, turning to gaze out the living room window.
“We'll have plenty of other opportunities to travel by train,” Flora said, laying her folded cloak in the trunk. “I must admit, I'm a little disappointed as well, but after meeting Marta and Jim, I'd much rather be helping them. I can't bear the thought of them or their newborn living in slavery.”
“Someone is coming up the drive.” Mother leaned over the back of the couch and squinted. “It looks like Rebecca Williams. Flora, was thee expecting a visit from the midwife?” Mother met her gaze.
“Not that I can recall.” Flora shook her head and shrugged. “Perhaps Rebecca heard of our mission and has come to deliver some parting advice. I must confess, it would be most welcome. I'm afraid Marta will go into labor before we cross the border into Pennsylvania.”
“Pastor John took thy concerns to heart,” Father said. “He may have taken it upon himself to confide in her.” He stood and stretched his arms above his head. “I think I'll take myself off to the barn so thee may talk about birthing as needed.”
“And I shall make us some tea and forage for some refreshment to serve.” Mother rose and hurried to the kitchen.
Father opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch to greet their guest. Flora and Irene both followed.
Once the carriage pulled to a stop, the door opened and out peered Rebecca's gray head, covered with a white bonnet. Father bounced down the steps and went to assist her. She wore a white blouse tucked into a charcoal-colored skirt. Her sturdy black boots stepped upon the pebbled drive that circled the front of their white two-story house.
“Good day, Friend Will. I hope thee is doing well?” She glanced up at Father with a curious smile, her gaze sliding to Flora and Irene standing on the porch. She winked and Flora couldn't suppress a grin at the woman who had taught her so much. “I came to see thy girls. Pastor John paid me a visit and told me about their upcoming mission. I confess, I'm a bit jealous. Wish I were young enough to go. It's such a bold and noble cause.”
“Indeed, it's their inexperience that gives me cause for concern.” He held out his hand. She accepted it as she stepped down, moving much slower than Flora remembered. “But I trust that this is the Lord's will, so I won't get in the way,” Father said.
“Good.” She patted his arm and pointed above her carriage. “Would thee be so kind as to bring in my trunk? I've brought some supplies for Flora that may be helpful should the slave girl go into labor.”
While her father retrieved the trunk, Flora went to Rebecca and wrapped her in a warm hug. “Thee didn't have to go to such
“What about Marta? Will it be wide enough for a pregnant woman?” Bruce asked, folding his arms.
“It'll have to be.” John sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his neck. “It's the best we've got.”
5
F lora folded a quilt and laid it on top of the others in the trunk. She wanted to be sure to pack enough for all of them when the cold weather set in, as well as for Marta and Jim. Irene packed another trunk full of cooking pots and utensils. Their mother checked off a list she held in her hand.
“I still wish we were going by train.” Irene closed the lid and slid the lock in place. “This one's packed.”
“Thee will get over thy disappointment soon enough.” Mother removed her spectacles from her nose and waved them in the air. “I'm beginning to worry about thy priorities, Irene. Should I be concerned?”
“Of course not!” Irene sat on top of her trunk. “I'm only disappointed, is all.”
“She's still young, Sarah.” Father folded his paper and set it on the end table by his cushioned chair. “There's plenty of time for her to develop a conscience about such things.”
“Young and fanciful.” Mother walked to the couch and sank upon it, turning to gaze out the living room window.
“We'll have plenty of other opportunities to travel by train,” Flora said, laying her folded cloak in the trunk. “I must admit, I'm a little disappointed as well, but after meeting Marta and Jim, I'd much rather be helping them. I can't bear the thought of them or their newborn living in slavery.”
“Someone is coming up the drive.” Mother leaned over the back of the couch and squinted. “It looks like Rebecca Williams. Flora, was thee expecting a visit from the midwife?” Mother met her gaze.
“Not that I can recall.” Flora shook her head and shrugged. “Perhaps Rebecca heard of our mission and has come to deliver some parting advice. I must confess, it would be most welcome. I'm afraid Marta will go into labor before we cross the border into Pennsylvania.”
“Pastor John took thy concerns to heart,” Father said. “He may have taken it upon himself to confide in her.” He stood and stretched his arms above his head. “I think I'll take myself off to the barn so thee may talk about birthing as needed.”
“And I shall make us some tea and forage for some refreshment to serve.” Mother rose and hurried to the kitchen.
Father opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch to greet their guest. Flora and Irene both followed.
Once the carriage pulled to a stop, the door opened and out peered Rebecca's gray head, covered with a white bonnet. Father bounced down the steps and went to assist her. She wore a white blouse tucked into a charcoal-colored skirt. Her sturdy black boots stepped upon the pebbled drive that circled the front of their white two-story house.
“Good day, Friend Will. I hope thee is doing well?” She glanced up at Father with a curious smile, her gaze sliding to Flora and Irene standing on the porch. She winked and Flora couldn't suppress a grin at the woman who had taught her so much. “I came to see thy girls. Pastor John paid me a visit and told me about their upcoming mission. I confess, I'm a bit jealous. Wish I were young enough to go. It's such a bold and noble cause.”
“Indeed, it's their inexperience that gives me cause for concern.” He held out his hand. She accepted it as she stepped down, moving much slower than Flora remembered. “But I trust that this is the Lord's will, so I won't get in the way,” Father said.
“Good.” She patted his arm and pointed above her carriage. “Would thee be so kind as to bring in my trunk? I've brought some supplies for Flora that may be helpful should the slave girl go into labor.”
While her father retrieved the trunk, Flora went to Rebecca and wrapped her in a warm hug. “Thee didn't have to go to such
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