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“That’s your problem. You find her.”
“I can’t find her if I’m dead.”
“So, I let you live,” Lizzie said nonchalantly. “But you gon’ promise me first.”
“How can I make a promise for something I have no control over?”
“You’ll figure out. Or death will come to you. And it ain’t gon’ be pretty.”
“You’d let me die? You’d leave Mary a widow?”
“This ain’t gotnothingto do with Miss Mary!”
William looked at Mary who sat quietly in the corner. The look between them was unreadable but it was clear that Mary had resigned herself to this fate. Lizzie was in control.
“Ain’t nothing worse than losing a child,” Lizzie said to William, her voice emotional but steady. “Nothing. And you took mine because she had what...feelings for your son? Last time I remember, we was all human. What you think was gon’ happen between them anyway? But you sold her and now Thomas gon’ up north hating you. So, you gon’ make all right again and bring her back...or you die. It’s just that simple.”
William went quiet and seemed to be weighing in his mind all his options. Lizzie turned to go but Williams grabbed her hand, tears were streaming down his face.
“Lizzie...I’m sorry.”
Lizzie snatched her arm away and looked at him with disgust. She could hear Mary in the corner crying but she wouldn’t look at her. Her heart was too heavy and broken. Seconds passed and she saw a mix of regret and fear fill William’s eyes. After several moments, Lizzie set the cup down and left the room.
Chapter Twenty
An old bundle of letters tied together by a delicate string sat on Mother’s lap as we sat next to each on the long couch in her spacious sitting room. A sense of urgency was in the air as she took my hand. Her face was pale but her eyes were bright and alive.
“Thomas, you’ve been through a great deal these past few months,” she began. “But I want you to know how proud I am of you. You’ve managed this plantation even better than your father.”
“You give me too much praise,” I said. “There are over a hundred slaves whose backs bear more weight.”
“And you’re risking your life for a hundred more,” she responded. “Who can say they do that?”
Mother was all too aware of the underground activities Lizzie and I conducted at night, but she warned caution and preferred to not know the details and I agreed.
“At least there’s one woman who thinks highly of me.”
“She does indeed love you,” my mother said, looking deep into my eyes. “That’s why she fights so hard. You haven’t let her in completely and she feels that. For a woman like Elizabeth it’s all or nothing. But what she doesn’t realize is that you’re still suffering from a broken heart.”
I looked down at all the letters my mother held protectively in her lap.
“Who do all those letters belong to?” I asked, eager to change the subject.
There was a distant, faraway look in her eyes. “You never know what you’ll find in an attic when you’re not looking for anything in particular,” she said, evading my question. “There are surprises around every corner.”
“They looked dated.”
“Quite so,” she said. “I found them amongst your father’s old things. He kept everything, it seemed. He even had sketches of you when you were a boy. You weren’t aware of it, but he enjoyed drawing you, a clear sign he loved you very much.”
“Somewhere those feelings got lost.”
“He only wanted the best for you.”
“And by wanting the best, he showed me his worst,” I said abruptly. “No, I’d rather not talk about his so-called love for me, mother.”
I rose from the couch and stood by the warm fire. There was nothing to be gained from being angry with a dead man, yet the pain of my father’s betrayal still ran deep even after all these years. It had shaped me in a way that I could never have predicted.
I was twenty-two years old when I made my first visit back to Louisiana from Boston. It was Christmas and the weeks spent in the mansion with my father was tenuous at best. Even though some time had passed, the wounds were still fresh and neither one of us had the courage to bridge the impasse. As I became more involved in my abolitionist work, coming to the South felt insignificant and I stopped coming to Louisiana altogether.
