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Authors: Elizabeth Langston
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profoundly. For these past few years, he has become my protector and friend. Jedidiah tells me that I should not listen to Papa’s grumblings about the burden I shall be to a husband.
Papa does not believe that I shall ever marry. I hope he is wrong.
With fond regards,
Dorcas
Mr. Pratt remained as vile as ever. He was to blame for injuring Dorcas. How could he have the audacity to steal her hope as well? I could not imagine how that man lived with the depravity of his own soul.
December 3rd, 1803
Dear Susanna,
I do hope you will collect my letters soon. I have so much to tell you and pray without ceasing that you will find a way to respond.
Our household and family have increased since I last wrote. It is quite different than when you were here.
Have I mentioned before a slave named Elijah? Uncle George has given Elijah’s wife to us. Sukey is pretty and young and has lovely hands. She has taken over the rule of the kitchen. Our indentured servant, Lydia, now minds the little ones and cleans. We are all glad of the change.
Sukey was a house slave for Uncle George’s family and observed much about polite society. She has taught me how to serve a proper tea. We practice in the kitchen. It is our little secret. Joan does not like for me to be too familiar with the servants—not even Lydia, who is her own sister!
Papa is quite proud to own four slaves. He had a second shack built so that Elijah and Sukey would not have to share with Frederick and Theophilus. The men are all good with horses, much better than Jedidiah.
There are two infants to report. Deborah and Aaron have another girl. Elinor is a hungry, fat, squalling baby. Mrs. Foster tends to her when Deborah helps out in the store. My sister enjoys showing off her children far more than she enjoys raising them.
Joan delivered another boy. The confinement was difficult for her. The midwife has urged Joan to have no more. Neither Papa nor Joan took the warning well. She still lies in her bed at all hours, pale and distressed. Weeping is her constant companion.
My new brother is small and quiet. He has a lustrous mane of black hair. Even though he was born one week past, they have not picked a name for him.
I call him James. It is not right to have no name.
With fond regards,
Dorcas
Four slaves—two of whom were husband and wife, separated so casually. In the America of today, there were no obvious slaves. It had been one of the earliest adjustments that I’d had to make—to accept that white men of wealth were no longer the only people with authority and freedom. I now worked for a black woman. My initial unease at taking direction from Lucy had melted under her effortless grace and generosity. Truly, I could hardly believe that I’d ever moved through life without questioning the right of one person to own another, fettered only by decency.
January 28th, 1804
Dear Susanna,
My sweet James has breathed his last.
He wailed without ceasing on his final morning with us. Neither Joan nor Papa could ease his suffering. Yet, by evening, he found some measure of peace in my arms. I paced with him in the parlor until my back ached and my legs burned with fatigue.
The full moon felt like a friend that night, bathing the room with silver light so that I could hold my brother and not stumble.
It was long past midnight before I felt his body go slack.
I do not think Joan will ever forgive me for being the one who held him until death. I cannot fault her resentment. It is a holy thing to say good-bye in such a way.
With fond regards,
Dorcas
She had lost so many at such a young age.
The most recent letter had been dated in 1804. If I were to visit again, which year would Whisper Falls take me to next? Was it deliberately leading me toward 1805?
My mind shuddered at the thought of May 1805 and its threat of the tempest. What would happen to Dorcas? To any of them?
I could not intervene. Of course not. I had meddled in Phoebe’s life and would never be able
Papa does not believe that I shall ever marry. I hope he is wrong.
With fond regards,
Dorcas
Mr. Pratt remained as vile as ever. He was to blame for injuring Dorcas. How could he have the audacity to steal her hope as well? I could not imagine how that man lived with the depravity of his own soul.
December 3rd, 1803
Dear Susanna,
I do hope you will collect my letters soon. I have so much to tell you and pray without ceasing that you will find a way to respond.
Our household and family have increased since I last wrote. It is quite different than when you were here.
Have I mentioned before a slave named Elijah? Uncle George has given Elijah’s wife to us. Sukey is pretty and young and has lovely hands. She has taken over the rule of the kitchen. Our indentured servant, Lydia, now minds the little ones and cleans. We are all glad of the change.
Sukey was a house slave for Uncle George’s family and observed much about polite society. She has taught me how to serve a proper tea. We practice in the kitchen. It is our little secret. Joan does not like for me to be too familiar with the servants—not even Lydia, who is her own sister!
Papa is quite proud to own four slaves. He had a second shack built so that Elijah and Sukey would not have to share with Frederick and Theophilus. The men are all good with horses, much better than Jedidiah.
There are two infants to report. Deborah and Aaron have another girl. Elinor is a hungry, fat, squalling baby. Mrs. Foster tends to her when Deborah helps out in the store. My sister enjoys showing off her children far more than she enjoys raising them.
Joan delivered another boy. The confinement was difficult for her. The midwife has urged Joan to have no more. Neither Papa nor Joan took the warning well. She still lies in her bed at all hours, pale and distressed. Weeping is her constant companion.
My new brother is small and quiet. He has a lustrous mane of black hair. Even though he was born one week past, they have not picked a name for him.
I call him James. It is not right to have no name.
With fond regards,
Dorcas
Four slaves—two of whom were husband and wife, separated so casually. In the America of today, there were no obvious slaves. It had been one of the earliest adjustments that I’d had to make—to accept that white men of wealth were no longer the only people with authority and freedom. I now worked for a black woman. My initial unease at taking direction from Lucy had melted under her effortless grace and generosity. Truly, I could hardly believe that I’d ever moved through life without questioning the right of one person to own another, fettered only by decency.
January 28th, 1804
Dear Susanna,
My sweet James has breathed his last.
He wailed without ceasing on his final morning with us. Neither Joan nor Papa could ease his suffering. Yet, by evening, he found some measure of peace in my arms. I paced with him in the parlor until my back ached and my legs burned with fatigue.
The full moon felt like a friend that night, bathing the room with silver light so that I could hold my brother and not stumble.
It was long past midnight before I felt his body go slack.
I do not think Joan will ever forgive me for being the one who held him until death. I cannot fault her resentment. It is a holy thing to say good-bye in such a way.
With fond regards,
Dorcas
She had lost so many at such a young age.
The most recent letter had been dated in 1804. If I were to visit again, which year would Whisper Falls take me to next? Was it deliberately leading me toward 1805?
My mind shuddered at the thought of May 1805 and its threat of the tempest. What would happen to Dorcas? To any of them?
I could not intervene. Of course not. I had meddled in Phoebe’s life and would never be able
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