Read Online There's a Dead Person Following My Sister Around by Vivian Vande Velde - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vivian Vande Velde
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my husband and me.
"
"
Yes?" I said, making pretense that I did not understand, though I feared I did. Already I was certain I did not want to become involved. Through the open doorway of the store, I could see a man who was unfamiliar to me loitering in the doorways across the street, watching us while pretending not to, though anyone with any sense at all would go in out of the rain.
Naomi said, "There is a shipment of black wool being sent here from North Carolina.
"
I started to shake my head, but Naomi clutched my wrist.
"
Two bales of wool," she said. "One ewe's wool, the other from a tiny lamb.
"
If this was the secret language of those who helped slaves escape, it certainly wasn't difficult to decipher. Two slaves, she was telling me, a woman and a child.
"
They had to be shipped from their previous location, and now they cannot come to our house. Winifred, think thee how cold and wet it has been. They have been outdoors for the past two days.
"
My intent was to say no, but I found my tongue asking, "How long?
"
"
Overnight," she answered. "Tomorrow after sunset, there will be a boat on the canal. Show a lantern and they will come. Identify thyself as a friend, with friends. The Federal marshals have no reason to suspect thee, so all will be perfectly safe.
"
"
I must discuss this with my husband," I said, handing her the last of the rolls of ribbon.
Naomi bit her lip. "What is he like to say?
"
"
Yes," I admitted. "Likely he will say yes.
"
"
Many thanks," Naomi said out loud. "It is very kind of thee to help me in my clumsiness." She stood and began to apologize to Mr. Willoughby and she did not look at me again. I left the store and knew enough not to look behind me to see if the man across the street watched me or Naomi.
Theodore, of course, said yes.
A woman and a child. It had to be our two ghosts, Marella and her mother. I was about to find out what had happened. I turned the page. The next entry simply said:
A cold nasty day. A dismal beginning to July.
July?
I checked the date over the entry. July 1, 1851. I backed up a page. The previous entry, the day Winifred met Naomi Stearns and agreed to take in the slaves, was June 23.
I ran my finger along the binding to see if pages had been ripped out. There were no pages missing, and when I thought about it, there couldn't have been. The previous day's entry had ended just about at the bottom of the right-hand page, and the next one started in on the same sheet, at the top of the left-hand page. Winifredâwho wrote every single day, except when her rheumatism was too bad, even when all she had to say was that she had dusted the parlor or Theodore had painted the front stepâhad skipped seven and a half days and wasted the next.
My eyes strayed farther down the page, to the next entry, which began:
The worst possible thing in the world has happened.
Since my left hand holding the book was suddenly shaking, I used my right hand to keep my place.
CHAPTER 13
The Worst Possible Thing
July 2, 1851
The worst possible thing in the world has happened. I keep returning to it over and over again in my mind, thinking, What could I have done to prevent it, what did I do wrong? An occurrence so violent and bizarre, it seems an act of Cod, a punishment for some evil. And yet, how could such a punishment be directed against those who so obviously trusted in Him and had suffered so much?
Was
it our sinâmine and Theodore'sâto have presumed too much, to have arrogantly placed trust in our own abilities?
July
3,
1851
I have tried, several times these past nine days, to set pen to paper. Theodore says I have become silent and bitter. I have seen enough of silent and bitter old women that I do not want to become one. I need to try harder, I
need to get the words and the feelings out, I need to start at the beginning.
There was a quiet knock at our door during our supper that Monday night. It was one of the Stearns children. They have so many I cannot tell them one
"
"
Yes?" I said, making pretense that I did not understand, though I feared I did. Already I was certain I did not want to become involved. Through the open doorway of the store, I could see a man who was unfamiliar to me loitering in the doorways across the street, watching us while pretending not to, though anyone with any sense at all would go in out of the rain.
Naomi said, "There is a shipment of black wool being sent here from North Carolina.
"
I started to shake my head, but Naomi clutched my wrist.
"
Two bales of wool," she said. "One ewe's wool, the other from a tiny lamb.
"
If this was the secret language of those who helped slaves escape, it certainly wasn't difficult to decipher. Two slaves, she was telling me, a woman and a child.
"
They had to be shipped from their previous location, and now they cannot come to our house. Winifred, think thee how cold and wet it has been. They have been outdoors for the past two days.
"
My intent was to say no, but I found my tongue asking, "How long?
"
"
Overnight," she answered. "Tomorrow after sunset, there will be a boat on the canal. Show a lantern and they will come. Identify thyself as a friend, with friends. The Federal marshals have no reason to suspect thee, so all will be perfectly safe.
"
"
I must discuss this with my husband," I said, handing her the last of the rolls of ribbon.
Naomi bit her lip. "What is he like to say?
"
"
Yes," I admitted. "Likely he will say yes.
"
"
Many thanks," Naomi said out loud. "It is very kind of thee to help me in my clumsiness." She stood and began to apologize to Mr. Willoughby and she did not look at me again. I left the store and knew enough not to look behind me to see if the man across the street watched me or Naomi.
Theodore, of course, said yes.
A woman and a child. It had to be our two ghosts, Marella and her mother. I was about to find out what had happened. I turned the page. The next entry simply said:
A cold nasty day. A dismal beginning to July.
July?
I checked the date over the entry. July 1, 1851. I backed up a page. The previous entry, the day Winifred met Naomi Stearns and agreed to take in the slaves, was June 23.
I ran my finger along the binding to see if pages had been ripped out. There were no pages missing, and when I thought about it, there couldn't have been. The previous day's entry had ended just about at the bottom of the right-hand page, and the next one started in on the same sheet, at the top of the left-hand page. Winifredâwho wrote every single day, except when her rheumatism was too bad, even when all she had to say was that she had dusted the parlor or Theodore had painted the front stepâhad skipped seven and a half days and wasted the next.
My eyes strayed farther down the page, to the next entry, which began:
The worst possible thing in the world has happened.
Since my left hand holding the book was suddenly shaking, I used my right hand to keep my place.
CHAPTER 13
The Worst Possible Thing
July 2, 1851
The worst possible thing in the world has happened. I keep returning to it over and over again in my mind, thinking, What could I have done to prevent it, what did I do wrong? An occurrence so violent and bizarre, it seems an act of Cod, a punishment for some evil. And yet, how could such a punishment be directed against those who so obviously trusted in Him and had suffered so much?
Was
it our sinâmine and Theodore'sâto have presumed too much, to have arrogantly placed trust in our own abilities?
July
3,
1851
I have tried, several times these past nine days, to set pen to paper. Theodore says I have become silent and bitter. I have seen enough of silent and bitter old women that I do not want to become one. I need to try harder, I
need to get the words and the feelings out, I need to start at the beginning.
There was a quiet knock at our door during our supper that Monday night. It was one of the Stearns children. They have so many I cannot tell them one
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