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“Let me see.”
Josiah lifted up his shirt. There was a long, deep cut across his ribcage. Lizzie sucked in her breath at the site of bruising and the blood that was still flowing.
“Lord have mercy...c’mon. We gotta tend to this.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It will be,” Lizzie said gravely as she reached in a makeshift storage box to gather her herbs. “Promise me you ain’t gonna fight no more wild animals.”
“That’s not my profession by trade,” Josiah said with a grin. “But you come up on the last of my food and I’ll fight you every time.”
Lizzie couldn’t help but smile at Josiah’s raw and honest humor.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“You will be missed.”
“Thank you, father,” Haydon said to David as he stood in front of his childhood home while Sam, their house servant, loaded the remaining bags onto the carriage. “The time will pass quickly.”
“Indeed,” David replied with a sparkle in his eye.
David’s eyes locked onto his son’s face. Earlier that morning, they had sat down to a large breakfast prepared by Hilda, their cook, a German immigrant who had been with them for almost five years. Hannah loved to cook but she had seemed particularly zealous this morning, cooking eggs, bacon and biscuits as soft as butter. Father and son ate heartily and avoided topics centered on the Movement, politics or law, preferring instead to focus on the present moment as that was all that mattered.
“You know, Haydon,” David said wistfully, “I do believe this will be the longest time you’ve ever been away from home.”
Haydon smiled. “I do anticipate new adventures.”
David nodded silently, his lips pressed tightly together. “Vigilance is a commodity in that world you’re about to enter,” David warned, his tone serious and paternal. “It can’t be underestimated, so be careful.”
“I will, Father, rest assured.”
“And write me as often as you can.”
“Of that, I will.”
Once the luggage was attached to the back of the carriage, Haydon hugged his father and climbed in.
“Keep up the fight while I am away,” Haydon said as he bent out the window.
David was too choked up to speak. Haydon smiled knowingly and motioned to the driver that he was ready, waving goodbye to his father as the carriage made its way down the drive. David waved back and continued to do so until he could no longer see him. He stood upon his cane and pondered the new situation. The south was more volatile than ever now what with the heightened debate over slavery. David was unsure as to what that would mean for not only the country, but for his only son.
HAYDON
“There is peace even in the storm.”
– Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890)
Chapter Forty
The conversation Mother and I were having with Haydon at the dining table stopped
immediately when Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a simple, yet beautiful gown of pale green. Haydon’s arrival a few nights before had Bellevue buzzing with activity and there was hardly a quiet moment for reflection, in addition to all the plantation duties that required attention. As expected, Elizabeth proved she was not the one to be ignored or upstaged. Thus, her entrance, like all others, had been timed perfectly.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” Elizabeth said. “Giving the slaves their morning tasks is an endless affair.”
“Why, hello, Elizabeth,” Mother replied. “Please join us. We were expecting you.”
I rose and greeted with her as much civility as I could muster. For Elizabeth’s part, she might well have been greeting a stranger as she politely brushed passed me. Before Haydon’s arrival, we both agreed to share the marriage bed again with the caveat that we would take things day by day and not place any demands on one another, physically or emotionally.
