AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Forever,
Jeyne
Hamilton County
Red Bank, Tennessee
September 12, 1839
My dearest Thomas,
I have made a friend here. Her name is Gabrielle, and we have managed to find comfort in each other, or as much as slaves can. My days are not as dark but I still long to see the sun, and that sun is you. Master Johnson has proved to be a tolerant man but even in the desert there is rain. Sometimes the order in this house is too exact. Every day without fail, we operate on a tight schedule. Everything is done at the same time, every day, and not a chair or plate or rug should be out of place. The missus worries about everything all the time and is not content unless everyone around her worries, too. But I will not go on and on about my troubles. I want to talk about you and the joy I receive in just whispering your name...
All of Jeyne’s letters gripped me, but it was her last one that bolted me out of my chair. The words leapt off the page and they couldn’t be ignored. This particular letter had come several months following the previous ones, and I read it with renewed fervor, trying desperately to read between the lines for additional clues. My heart was beating fast. I sat back and began to think for a long time, trying to piece together what I had just learned. Dusk was nearing. Reaching for my ink and paper, I began to write. My plan was foolhardy and rash but I had to act. Now, more than an ever, I had to let my instincts guide me.
St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana
February 23, 1857
Dearest Jeb,
It is Monday night after a long day managing various plantation tasks. As always, I seat myself at the large oak desk while I write to you with a thousand thoughts running through my head at once. I cannot write fast enough, it seems. To say I miss your counsel as a friend is the greatest of all understatements. I wish you were here to offer that old world wisdom, but that would be a selfish indulgence. For, in reality, I would cut off my right arm before I would have you subjected to this horrid state and any other state that made slavery legal, especially after reading Northrup’s latest memoir of “12 Years a Slave.” We were always aware of the kidnappings but to hear of the daily horrors of what this man went through creates an even more determined abolitionist. Even on your worst days, I know you are doing well and living an abundant life as only a free man can. What joy you are experiencing with Jenny and the children in New York! Yet, I must tell you, your presence in New York comes at an interesting time and I will tell you why. How do I begin this particular story? So much has transpired in these last few days...
St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana
February 23, 1857
Dear Cousin,
Please forgive me for not having written before this time. We are all safe and healthy despite this cold, bitter winter. Many things have happened since my last letter to you but I will not go into the dramatic details here. I write to you now with a great deal of urgency. I have received new information about Jeyne and I need your assistance in making some inquiries on my behalf. I will not divulge all those details here, yet rest assured you will learn of them all. The information I have obtained has yet to be confirmed, but if the details are true, they will have a major impact on my life...
Chapter Twenty-Two
After I composed my letters, I lay in bed with thoughts of Jeyne consuming me. Her revelation had stirred something deep within me and I found myself thinking of her in ways that a married man should not be thinking of another woman. All I could hear was the sound of her soft voice, her laughter. The softness of her skin I still remembered, even the way she had closed her beautiful eyes that evening when I made love to her. It was insane to still be this much in love after all these years, but Jeyne had been everything to me. She was still everything to me. My soul would remain unsettled until I knew she was alive. Yet, as I considered Elizabeth, the woman that was now my wife, certain questions began to taunt me. What would I do if I found Jeyne? Would she be married? Would she have children? Would she share any of the same feelings towards me that I have for her? Surely, I could not disrupt our lives with mere curiosity. For what was I truly seeking? I didn’t really know. Despite the questions, one fact was very clear - I was still very much in love with her and had to know more.
The next day proved to be an incredibly restless one, as would, I knew be all the others until I received Jeb and Haydon’s replies. After breakfast, I joined Mother in her sitting room. Lizzie had given her some home remedy to ease her discomfort and she looked a bit better, but a look of concern crossed her face when she saw me. She asked me about Jeyne’s letters and I shared some of what she had written.
“Do you think she’s still alive?” Mother asked in earnest, her eyes wide in anticipation.
“I believe she is,” I said, with a mix of exhilaration and anxiety. “There’s no reason for me to think otherwise.”
My mother sat in contemplative silence. I know she wanted more details as much for herself as for Lizzie.
“I wrote both Jeb and Haydon and asked for their help,” I said. “They have contacts who could assist.”
She looked at me with wide eyes as I shared my plan with her. “I’m in complete support of your decision,” she said, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. “It will cause pain, and Elizabeth will demand answers. In all of this, I can’t help but think of Lizzie, too. She deserves some peace, if not closure.”
I held my mother’s gaze and said, “Indeed she does.”
CROSSROADS
“I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by.” – Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Chapter Twenty-Three
Haydon Christopher White was in an agitated state as he stood in the hallway mirror struggling to tie his favorite cravat. Yet, it wasn’t so much the tie that was causing him trouble as it was the thought of the upcoming meeting with his fellow members of the American Anti-Slavery Society. For over twenty years, Haydon had been working his fingers tirelessly to the bone, teaching, writing, and lecturing, just about anything to stir the more conservative members of the Boston citizenry. He had fought relentlessly for the abolishment of slavery, and in doing so, often risked his own life.
At 42 years old, Hadyon had established a solid reputation for himself as an outspoken member of the AASS. He had turned down a recent bid to be the group’s president, feeling that the responsibilities of this position would thwart his day-to-day efforts, opting instead to serve as a board member. He challenged ideas, and in doing so, alienated so-called friends in the process. Haydon made no apologies for this as he knew it was the only way to bring about real change. To him, it was all worth it. The work kept his restless and morose mind engaged.
