Her Rebel Heart. Shannon Farrington

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СКАЧАТЬ “I have. A few months ago.”

       “You were educated in Philadelphia, yes?”

       “That is correct, sir.”

       They started walking once more, choosing the stone path that led to the library.

       “Fine work they are doing in Philadelphia,” Dr. Carter said. “Fine work, indeed.”

       Sam wasn’t certain if he was referring to education or something else. He sensed it was the latter.

       “I met Mr. Douglass once, myself,” Dr. Carter said. “In Boston.” He glanced at Sam. “There is fine work going on in Boston, as well.”

       Sam did not reveal that he had once been there, as well; but by now he was beginning to suspect that Frederick Douglass and the fine work up north were related. Coupled with Dr. Carter’s first question, he reckoned that the Dean of Students had sided with the abolitionist cause. He seemed most curious to know what Sam’s position was.

       “It is fine work,” Sam said. “Something I think that there should be more of.”

       Dr. Carter’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. From his vest pocket he produced a small scrap of paper. He handed it to Sam. “Then perhaps you would be interested in meeting some of my friends.”

       Sam studied the note. It was an address in the Fell’s Point area. “Are your friends engaged in fine work?” he asked, borrowing the phrase.

       “They are and they are always looking for God-fearing young men such as you to be part of such.”

       He was cautiously intrigued. He had met a few abolitionists in Philadelphia. Most of them were kindhearted, wonderful people. A few, however, had such wild, vengeful looks in their eyes that frankly, they scared him. Sam wanted no part of a group like that. He believed judgment should be reserved for God alone.

       A group of students exited the library. They walked toward Dr. Carter and Sam.

       Dr. Carter’s countenance changed, a firm disciplinary look replacing the smiling excitement his face had just shown.

       “Four o’clock, next Friday,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he opened the door to the library. Sam watched the white-haired gentleman walk into the building. Then he slipped the scrap of paper the man had given him into his own vest pocket.

       Dr. Carter had left him with many questions. Abolitionists were a varying lot, and Sam wasn’t exactly certain what he might be getting into. He would appreciate his future father-in-law’s counsel. But given what had taken place with Julia, he wondered if Dr. Stanton would receive him. Does he know about our broken engagement? Will he side with Julia? He decided to take the chance. After all, he was concerned for their safety.

       Heeding his own advice to look after one’s family, he hurried to visit the Stantons.

       The streets of Mount Vernon were nearly deserted that afternoon. Barricades had filled the streets; but, as of today, the citywide state of “armed neutrality” had given way to at least the appearance of submission. Maryland state flags and the Palmetto flag, the symbol of South Carolina and secession, had been removed. The armed men that had been patrolling the streets for the last month were nowhere to be seen. The Federal guns pointing at Monument Square had discouraged outside activity.

       Sam was eager to be indoors as well. To his relief, Dr. Stanton greeted him warmly when he arrived. He invited Sam to join him in the study. The man had surrounded himself with his medical journals.

       “I came to see how everyone was,” Sam told him, “and to see if you were in need of any assistance.” And, if I may, get your opinion about something, he thought.

       Dr. Stanton nodded. “I thank you. My wife has spent the entire day in bed.”

       Sam’s concern rose. He decided to forgo his planned request for advice. Dr. Stanton had more pressing concerns.

       “I am sorry to hear that. Is she ill?”

       “Not really. Edward’s departure has broken Esther’s heart. She doesn’t know what to do.” He rubbed his mustache. “I suppose we all are that way. All I can seem to concentrate on are my medical books. Julia has busied herself in the kitchen. She has baked four loaves of bread today.”

       Sam caught himself smiling, though it was a sorrow filled one. Julia had always baked when she was upset or angry.

       “Is there any word from Edward?” he asked.

       “No, and I fear that there won’t be for a very long time.”

       Neither man knew what to say next. Dr. Stanton went back to his journal. Sam sat quietly and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the rattle of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. He wondered if Julia knew he was here.

       “How were your classes?” Dr. Stanton asked.

       “I had five missing from my history class alone.”

       “They left to fight?”

       “So the rumors say.”

       Dr. Stanton sighed long and slow. He tugged at his spectacles. “And those that remained?”

       “Their minds were far from the Roman Empire.”

       “I imagine so.”

       Sam heard the rustle of her petticoats even before he saw her. Julia’s approaching footsteps drew their attention to the door.

       “Father, we are in need of wood for the stove…”

       The moment she saw Sam an unnerved expression filled her blue eyes. The rest of her words escaped her. He purposefully maintained his gaze. His heart was pounding.

       Julia brushed the trace of flour from the front of her green cotton day dress and slowly regained her composure. She looked at her father.

       “Will you ask Lewis to fetch some?”

       Sam seized the opportunity. “I will see to it.”

       “Oh, thank you, son.”

      Son. Dr. Stanton had always called him that. Nothing had changed from his perspective it seemed. Julia, however, did not even acknowledge his presence. She turned her head and looked away as he passed by her.

       Sam did not let her actions discourage him. Instead of hunting down Lewis, the family stable hand, he walked to the lean-to.

       There was no wood available. He was not surprised. It was Edward’s job to see that the kindling box remained full. With all of her baking Julia had depleted the supply that her brother had last chopped. Sam picked out several logs in need of splitting. He could not ease the tensions in his city or his nation. He couldn’t protect Edward, his students or Julia. But this was something that needed to be done that he could do. He took off his frock coat and set to work.

       Julia watched him from the kitchen window. Sleeves rolled up, hair falling over his forehead, arms taut with the ax; in a matter of minutes Samuel had already split enough wood to last for the rest of the day.

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