Chapter Twenty-Six Anna Murray Douglass
May 1882
“You need to go on over to Massachusetts, and tell him what it’s for, you hear?” said Ruth, Anna’s friend, who she’d met through the Anti-Slavery Society.
Anna rocked in her seat in the kitchen, humming as she shelled peas for summer. Her eldest daughter planned to visit her at their home, Cedar Hill, with the baby, and she wanted dinner to be perfect.
“Now, he’s a good man,” Ruth went on, “don’t get me wrong. But you know how they are.”
“I do.” Anna knew all too well. Wasn’t like she could go around blind. Everyone cut her a look as hot as an iron.
But what hurt the deepest, more than even what her husband did, was folks looking like it was her fault.
Anna kept humming. It soothed her nerves, her soul. The clopping of hooves outside caught her attention.
“Is Rosetta already here?” Anna muttered. She wiped her hands on her apron.
Her question was quickly answered even before she could welcome the visitor.
But it was no stranger. It was her husband.
“Well, hey, Frederick,” Ruth said. “We was just talking about you. What you been up to? Giving those rascals down in Washington hell?” Her tone was jovial, as if she hadn’t just called him a lying cheat five minutes ago.
Anna didn’t make out what he said. His lips moved, and he muttered something about a speech to Ruth, but he was staring at his wife. His eyes glittered like a secret only the two of them knew.
Maybe it was gratitude that she’d sewn them sailor’s clothes and made them fit just for him so he could escape to freedom. Maybe it was because she saved every cent to start a home for them.
He always looked at her like that, right from the first time they met. With dignity and awe and respect. Anna’s cheeks warmed, and she hoped her friend could see the way he looked at her. She never doubted the love he had for her. Folks just liked to talk and gossip was all. He was an important man who made a lot of folks angry.
“Hey.” Anna smiled wide and rushed over to greet him. Then she stopped when she noticed another woman standing just outside the inner door. She rocked back on her feet. The soles didn’t have enough cushion to absorb her shock.
That woman, his friend and secretary,and their neighbor, Helen Pitts, strode in behind him. Sticking to him like molasses.
That woman looked around the house and then finally offered Anna a smile with too many teeth and too much familiarity.
“Hi, Anna. Very good to see you again.”
“Hmm.” Her friend snorted behind her.
“Wasn’t expecting company,” Anna whispered low to her husband. That company included him as well.
“Helen?” her husband’s voice boomed. He looked at the woman with that same glimmer of something he had aimed at his wife. It wasn’t as deep or as affectionate, yet it cut up little ribbons inside Anna’s stomach.
“She isn’t company. She is here to help me with my book.”
Anna didn’t reply. She couldn’t hear nothing over her crumbling heart.
He’s a good man. A smart man. He needs you, Anna. He says it all the time.
Anna dug deep and pulled out a smile. “Your daughter’s coming home. I’ll make an extra place for your guest.”
Frederick smiled, inclining his head to offer his thanks.
“Helen, can you look over my revisions?” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a paper.
Anna’s cheeks warmed again. This time from embarrassment. That was the one thing he didn’t need from her, the one thing she couldn’t do for him. She couldn’t read a lick of what he wrote.
But ain’t I done enough? His freedom? Taking care of our money, our kids, and our home? Making sure them slaves got they freedom, too?
She looked at his clothes. “I need to wash and press some suits for you.” Anna excused herself and left the parlor.
“Anna.” Her husband strode behind her. She kept walking. The tears were gathering, and she didn’t think she could stop them this time.
“Anna.” He gently tugged her elbow, dragging her to his chest.
He pulled her close, whispering in her ear. “Next time I come home, why don’t we sit outside, and I’ll read to you. Just like old times.”
Anna rubbed her heart with one hand and squeezed his hand with the other. Her heart ached like the devil these days.
Another thing she was grateful for—he knew just what to say to soothe her. She guessed that’s why folks paid him—to make them feel like they were special.
“Rosetta is coming over for supper. Will you stay?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a meeting, but I’ll be home much later. We’ll have guests in a few days—”
“How many?”
“Three. Two adults and a child. They’ll need a room for the week.”
Anna reached out, smoothing the wrinkles that gathered around his elbows.
“I’ll take care of ’em.”
“I know you will, and I thank you for it.” His eyes filled with gratitude. “Now, I must leave, but I will see you soon. Tell Rosetta I will see her tomorrow.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Rosetta whispered while they cleared the table. “I’ll clean up once I put them to bed.” Her daughter’s little ones sat with their toys in the parlor. They would make all kinds of mess, but Anna didn’t mind so much. She smiled at her daughter. “No, you won’t. You know I like to keep things straight on my own. Besides, we’re gonna have some company soon.”
“Who?” her daughter asked.
Anna shrugged while drying the dishes. “Your father said a wife, husband, and child. Don’t matter to me if they Black or white, slave or the president.”
Rosetta let out a long sigh.
“Didn’t know you took up sighing as a trade,” Anna quipped.
Rosetta laughed. Anna liked that she could be herself around her daughter once she became a woman.
“Mama.”
“What is it?” Anna stopped her task.
“Aren’t you tired of people dropping into your home? Aren’t you tired of living in danger?”
“Long as there’s hate in people’s hearts, we all in danger. You know that. You used to read me the North Star.”
“I know, but when my father writes about what’s happening, houses burn down. Or he has to go into hiding.”
“It’s not just words from your father. He helps them people find freedom, find they own voice, too.”
“So do you, Mama. You give them a warm bed, food, refuge.”
Anna nodded. “Sure do.”
Rosetta frowned at her answer.
“What’s got you so upset?” she asked her daughter.
“I just hear chatter is all. And I get mad.”
Anna placed her palms on either side of Rosetta’s face. “I don’t care about what them folks say, and if they are bold enough to say it to me, then I’ll turn them out of my house. It doesn’t matter that I’m not on that stage or traveling with your father. I’ve got my own life, too, and it’s...” She struggled to find the right words to say to her daughter. “It’s important to me that I keep things going. It’s important that my children and grandchildren know where I am. It’s important that the Underground Railroad keeps the doors open. Outside of helping your father, there is nothing wrong or low of me by keeping home. Do you understand me, little girl?”
“Yes, Mama. I do.”
“Now, don’t forget what I said.”
“I’ll never forget. And I’ll make sure everyone else knows it, too.”
Anna laughed. “You’re gonna write it in the North Star?”
“I’ll figure out something.” Rosetta hugged her mother close. Anna inhaled the lovely scent of jasmine her daughter had dabbed on her neck. The grease that covered her scalp. She remembered nights of braiding her Rosetta’s hair, holding her when she got sick, and tucking her in at night. She was so lonely when her children were young, but those hugs went a long way toward driving out the fear and anger. Seemed like it should’ve been the other way around, but her daughter, her children, smelled like home.
“Sometimes I forget that you’re a woman. I know you don’t need me anymore, but I will always be here for you.”
Rosetta smiled. “You taught me to be industrious, and brave and loyal. I am who I am because of you. I want everyone to know how special you are to our family.”
Anna didn’t need those folks who circled around her husband to understand her. The same ones who rallied for freedom and equality while they looked down on her because she couldn’t read. The very opportunity the world took from Black folks.
But Anna cared about what was in the heart and thoughts of her family. Her husband had always given her the words to make her feel that she was important. But Anna knew that her daughter, maybe more than anyone, understood her worth.
In her heart, she knew her daughter would see that the world understood, too.