Mockingbird's Call Page 7

  “Why would he not?” Uncle Francis winked at his wife. “Our niece is as pretty as a picture and sweet natured to boot. Half the young men in Knoxville are trying to turn her head.”

  Amelia pressed a hand against her hot cheek. “You’re the one turning my head, Uncle. I’m sure the only reason they are interested is because I am a novelty.”

  “Has your new riding habit arrived, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s lovely.” Amelia poured her enthusiasm for the new ensemble into her voice. “I can hardly wait to wear it.” She thought of the short braided jacket and white garibaldi shirt that lent the riding outfit a militaristic appearance. The skirt was long and full to allow her freedom, whether she was seated on a horse or walking.

  “I’m sure you’ll cut quite the figure.” Uncle Francis’s voice was warm to match his smile. “The other young ladies had better look to their swains, or they are likely to lose them.”

  Amelia pushed back her chair and ran to hug her uncle. “You are undoubtedly prejudiced, but I appreciate your kind words.”

  “Go on, child.” He laughed and shooed her out of the room.

  Her conscience, which had been temporarily silenced by the affection of her aunt and uncle, roared once again as she saw the front page of the paper lying on the table. It was full of advertisements seeking information on runaway slaves and promising huge rewards for their return. As she trudged upstairs, Amelia wondered how she would ever reconcile her world with her morals and her faith.

  Tabitha was waiting for her in the bedroom and helped Amelia don her new riding habit. Her admiring gaze met Amelia’s in the mirror. “You do look a sight.”

  A heavy sigh filled Amelia’s chest and escaped her in a rush. She was the most hypocritical creature on the planet. Here she was concentrating on new clothes when there was so much she ought to be doing instead.

  “Whatever is the matter with you today?”

  Amelia turned and faced Tabitha. “How can you stay here with me?”

  “I. . .I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Tabitha. I know you too well. You’re smart and pretty. You must have thought about running away.”

  Tabitha turned away and busied herself with folding Amelia’s nightgown and wrapper before storing them in the cedar chiffonier next to her dressing table.

  “Don’t you want to leave this household and taste freedom for yourself? Don’t you want to use the Underground Railroad? Meet someone special? Start a family and know that your children and your children’s children will grow up safe and able to determine their own futures?”

  Tabitha turned to look at her, a frown marring her wide brow. “Of course I’ve thought of it.” She paused as if considering her words. “Not everyone is as brave as you.”

  “Brave?” Now it was Amelia’s turn to frown. “I’m not brave at all. In fact, I have been wondering all morning why I do nothing to fight against a system that I abhor.”

  “It was brave of you to risk your reputation to help Melek and the others last night.”

  “Yes, I risked my reputation. But that’s nothing compared to you and the others. You risked your very lives. If I had been caught, my aunt and uncle would have been scandalized—they might have even returned me to my parents. I can understand Cook helping her son. But you and the other slaves will most likely be hung for your involvement if you’re discovered aiding Melek.”

  “We all risk a great deal.” Tabitha walked to the birdcage and pulled off its cover. Amelia’s mockingbird hopped onto its perch and opened its beak. A song as bright as the sun outside filled the bedroom. “But it was worth the risk to know they will soon live free.”

  Amelia’s breath caught. “That’s what I mean. Don’t you want to go with them? Don’t you want to experience freedom and not live in fear?”

  Tabitha giggled. “I don’t fear you. Aren’t we friends? Didn’t you teach me to read? I am content to stay where I am for now.”

  “I wish I could find my own way to contentment.”

  Tabitha laughed.

  “What?” asked Amelia, hurt that her friend was making light of something that bothered her so.

  “I don’t know. It seems funny to me that you have so much and yet complain that you are not content.” She stopped and looked at Amelia. “We are both blessed. We live in a beautiful house, we have full bellies, and we’re surrounded by friends.”

  “Yes. I know I should be counting my blessings. And yet how can I when I am part of a culture that treats human beings as property?” She pointed to the wide four-poster piled high with feather mattresses and quilts. “Slaves have no more right to demand consideration than that bed over there.”

  Tabitha’s eyes narrowed. “ ‘Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?’ ”

  The biblical quote shocked Amelia into silence. Was God planning to use her as He had used Esther? Could she be instrumental in the deliverance of slaves? Hope blossomed in her chest like an early spring. A little voice, her conscience perhaps, whispered that she could not be chosen. People who were chosen were not so riddled with doubt. “I don’t have the ear of President Jefferson Davis. I can do very little.”

  “You may be right.” Tabitha looked toward the mockingbird, who was singing through his litany of calls. He whistled, tweeted, squawked, and chirped, mocking the songs of birds from the Acadian flycatcher to the whip-poor-will. “But God can do anything. And He will, whether it is through your efforts or through someone else’s.”

  Amelia pondered Tabitha’s statement as she put out some dried fruit and seeds for her pet. She watched the bird pecking at its food and thought about how it was able to imitate so many sounds. Perhaps she had been placed in this area for a specific purpose. If that were the case, she needed to be ready to answer God’s call, whenever and wherever she could.

  Hope bloomed anew and she smiled as the mockingbird finished eating and began its song once more.

  Eight

  Jared tapped the end of his pen on his notebook and considered how to end his exposition. He wanted it to be perfect. He would be presenting it at the meeting next week.

  He glanced out the window toward the Tennessee River and watched as a boat floated swiftly past the college. Traffic had dwindled over the past months, not because of the weather but because of the war. He didn’t know of any blockades along the river, but the Unionists were curtailing trade with Europe by blockading ports along the East Coast. Many cotton growers were already concerned as they watched the demand for their goods diminish. Cutting off funds for the Confederacy was a solid strategy and one that he applauded as it minimized bloodshed and the need for neighbors to continue fighting and killing each other.

  The door to his room swung open, and Benjamin stomped in, so covered by a woolen scarf that Jared had to look twice to identify his roommate. “Is it getting colder?”

  “It feels like the rain might turn into snow at any minute.” Benjamin pulled off his scarf and shook it several times to remove excess water.

  “Hey.” Jared held up his arm to shield his paper. “Be careful with that. You’re going to ruin all my hard work.”

  “What are you working on there?” Benjamin pulled off his greatcoat and laid it across the back of a chair.

  Jared carefully mopped up the stray droplets threatening his paper. “It’s a treatise on the barbarity of slavery.”

  Benjamin whistled. “I hope you’re not planning to give that to Mr. Whitsell. He’s not partial to Union sympathizers.”

  “It’s for the Philomathesian Society meeting.” Jared stood up and yawned, stretching his arms to work out the kinks from sitting stooped at his desk for too many hours. “Remember I told you I joined and I’ve been placed on the program. You are still planning to attend, aren’t you?”

 
“Of course.” Benjamin slapped him on the back. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “And you promise not to laugh, right?”

  “Now, I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Benjamin ducked a fake punch that Jared threw. “Hey, save your moves for the war.”

  “Where have you been?” Jared sat back down and held his cold hands close to the oil lamp on their shared study desk. The steam pipes bringing heat to their room clanged and hissed, but they did little to dispel the chill in the room.

  “Artillery practice.”

  “Aren’t your hands freezing?”

  Benjamin nodded. “Why don’t we go downstairs and sit by the fire for a while. A bunch of fellows are down there right now. One of them has a brother who’s a member of the Fighting 8th.” His voice was filled with reverence for the Georgia regiment that had fought hard in the battle of Manassas plain and suffered the loss of many of its veteran soldiers. “His brother has written a long letter, and Tom’s promised to read it to whomever wishes to attend.”

  “I don’t think so.” Jared was interested in hearing about the war, but he really needed to concentrate on his project. It had to be the best thing he’d ever written. When he read this out loud to his peers, he wanted to see the fire of righteousness enter their eyes. He wanted them to stand and cheer. He wanted to be the hero, challenging their preconceptions and conquering their stubbornness. In short, he wanted to win the war without firing a single shot. “I have some more work to do.”

  He could feel the weight of Benjamin’s gaze on the back of his neck, but Jared refused to turn around. After several seconds, he heard the door open and close.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and reread his last sentence. He needed something extraordinary for a rousing finish. In his mind’s eye he could see the scene. The president of the society had told him ladies would be present. Hopefully, none of them would swoon over the power of his words.

  He wondered if the editor who’d been at last week’s lecture would attend. His heart beat faster. Maybe the man would offer him a job on the spot. How exciting it would be to use his talents to educate and awaken the population. Everyone knew the city had many Union sympathizers. If he was hired on by Mr. Stone, he could really make a difference. It had always been his dream to use his talents for good. This might be his chance.

  Jared leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He would send a copy of his first newspaper cover to his parents. The great Adam Stuart would be impressed by his son’s achievements. And Ma would tell all her friends about her famous son.

  He would be working for the downtrodden without having to spend all his time with his nose stuck in dusty law books. He would be the voice of the oppressed, the man whose uncompromising honesty brought peace to his countrymen—all of them, regardless of the color of their skin.

  He smiled. All he had to do was finish. He opened his eyes and dipped his pen in the inkwell. The words flowed again.

  ❧

  Amelia glanced over at Luke Talbot, sitting so straight on his stallion. The sunlight made his dark hair shine. She put a hand to her own head and tugged on the red cap that matched the braided coat of her riding habit. “Do you think my kepi is too daring?”

  Luke’s smile eased her fears. “You look dashing. I’m sure all the other ladies are quite put out that their own hats are so old-fashioned. They will probably rush out to purchase an ensemble exactly like the one you’re wearing.”

  “You are very kind, Luke. You always know just what to say.”

  “And you are a delightful companion.” He tossed her a look full of meaning but was interrupted by someone calling out from a carriage traveling toward them.

  The bright yellow landau was occupied by a pair of ladies who looked familiar, although Amelia couldn’t quite recall their names. The older lady waved her lace handkerchief at them as the coachman brought the carriage to a stop.

  Amelia and Luke also brought their horses to a halt as Amelia searched her memory. She put on a bright smile and waited for the lady to speak. Perhaps it would come to her, or maybe the passengers themselves would give her a clue as to their identities.

  “Good day, Miss Montgomery. What a pleasure to see you about.” The lady pointed her fan at the young lady sitting opposite her. “Faye was only this morning asking if we could pay you and your sweet aunt a visit.”

  “My aunt and I would be delighted to receive you Mrs.”—Amelia dredged the name up from her memory—“Downing. And I look forward to renewing my acquaintance with Faye.”

  Mrs. Downing nodded and turned her attention to Luke. “Mr. Talbot, isn’t it? I trust you are enjoying your studies.”

  Luke bowed over the lady’s proffered hand and murmured an agreement. “How kind of you to remember me.”

  “Oh yes.” Mrs. Downing glanced toward her daughter. “Faye never forgets a face. And her father and I are staunch supporters of the university you are attending. We have a son who will most likely go to school there one day.”

  Luke assumed an interested expression and nodded. He did not seem eager to continue the conversation.

  Mrs. Downing looked from him to Amelia and smiled. “I should be letting you young people get back to your ride. Faye and I will be stopping by this afternoon. I have something of great import to discuss with you, my dear.”

  Amelia didn’t know how to take the woman’s statement or the meaningful look that accompanied it. Perhaps she wanted Amelia to befriend her daughter. Maybe Faye wished to secure Benjamin’s attention. She smiled at the younger woman and was rewarded by a smile that made her think of an eager puppy’s. That must be it. She watched as Mrs. Downing sat back against the cushioned seat and gestured to the driver.

  “The park is growing crowded.” Luke’s voice brought her attention back to the present. He loosened his horse’s reins and moved forward.

  As she followed her escort, Amelia took note of the dozen or so carriages trundling along the pathway that wound through tall trees and along the banks of the Tennessee River. They moved slowly to allow for conversation. “Yes. It’s amazing. I didn’t realize quite how popular this park would be.”

  Luke glanced at her. “There’s no reason why you should. It’s not like you’ve spent any time in society.”

  Amelia didn’t know whether or not she should be offended by his remark. Was Luke calling her a rustic? Yet how could she take offense when that’s exactly what she was? The safest thing to do would be to introduce a new subject. “Have you seen my cousin lately?”

  “He was on the parade ground yesterday evening.” Luke’s chin rose a notch. “He’s going to make a fine soldier.”

  “Please don’t say anything about that to my aunt. She’s fearful he will join the campaign and end up wounded or dead.”

  “Would she rather he take the coward’s way out by not enlisting? I think his parents should applaud his patriotism. He and I both share the desire to fight for our principles. Someday I hope we will be comrades in arms. Your aunt is not a traitor to the Confederacy, is she? I know many such reside in Knoxville, but I had not thought to find them within your family.”

  Amelia’s face grew hot under his stare. She didn’t know which way to look. What if Luke knew the truth? She was the one who was helping slaves escape north. Would he also condemn her and the actions she took? The answer was obviously yes. He might even feel it his duty to report her to the authorities.

  “I cannot imagine anyone in my family sympathizing with the abolitionists.” The lie tripped off her tongue easily, and her conscience stung her for a brief moment. Then the thought came to her that she had to deceive Luke or lose her ability to help those poor men and women. “Uncle Francis supports the rights of states to make their own decisions without federal interference.”

  “Quite right. As do I.” Luke reached over and captured her h
and in his. “And I know you and I agree on the issue of slavery.”

  Luke had no idea how she felt about slavery. He had just confessed his desire to fight for the South in support of his principles and expressed his disdain for “traitors to the Confederacy.” He must believe she viewed slave labor with the same complacency as her father. Was it wrong for her to be relieved he had accepted her lies? Again her conscience prodded her, but this time, Amelia easily smothered it. She hadn’t meant to become involved with the Underground Railroad, but since she had, it was essential that she mask her true feelings.

  Luke’s mount reared onto his hind legs. Amelia watched in admiration as he kept his seat and brought the horse under control. He looked so capable and strong. She might not agree with him in all areas, but she knew Luke Talbot was a good man. Her heart warmed as she saw her lifelong friend in a different light. He was no longer the mischievous young man who’d teased and played with her while their parents visited in the parlor downstairs. Luke was a grown man, and one who could probably set female hearts fluttering all over Knoxville. Gratitude for his attention warmed her.

  She sent him a challenging look as he subdued his horse. “Perhaps we should try a gallop.” Without waiting for an answer, she clucked at her mare.

  Luke was only a second behind her, his stallion’s longer legs eating up the distance between them. Then they were riding neck and neck, their horses straining to reach the line of trees in the distance.

  Amelia’s kepi caught the wind and lifted from her head, so she had to draw in the reins and drop out of their impromptu sprint. She turned her mare’s head around and spotted the red cap on the ground some feet back. She would have to remember to ask Tabitha to secure it more tightly in the future.

  Hooves thundered behind her. Amelia looked over her shoulder to see Luke racing to the rescue. The wind teased at her hair as he raced past her and dismounted with alacrity. He scooped up the cap and tucked it under one arm. Then he reached for her and swung Amelia out of her saddle, his hands encircling her waist.