Chapter 4: Settling Differences A
clatter followed by a crash sent Lucretia Towne, with apron askew and flour in
her hair, dashing up the back stairs to find out what had happened. She found
her sister Laura sitting on a trunk at the foot of the attic stairs, looking
disheveled and ruefully rubbing her knee. “What
in heaven’s name are you up to now, Laura?” Laura
laughed despite herself. “I was trying to be useful without disturbing anyone.
I guess I failed, didn’t I? I’m sorry if I frightened you.” “What’s
in the trunk?” “I’ve
just finished cleaning out my room. I thought I would store the things I’m not
taking with me in the attic, so my room will be empty if you should want to use
it for something else. But the trunk was heavier than I expected. I thought I
could drag it up the stairs, but I couldn’t budge it. So I came down to the
bottom and tried pushing it up the steps ahead of me. That almost worked, but I
couldn’t figure out how to hold it in place and climb the stairs myself at the
same time. I must have let go for a second, and it came barreling down on top
of me. I’ve been sitting here trying to come up with a new idea.” “Here,
let me help you. It’s obviously a job for two. I’ll go above and pull while you
push from down here.” Together
they managed to bounce the trunk from step to step until it rested safely on
the attic floor, but both were panting from the effort. They sat side by side
on the trunk to catch their breath. Lucretia made a small clearing noise in the
back of her throat—one Laura recognized as an expression of disapproval. She
peeked at her from the corner of her eyes to determine how angry her older
sister might be. The frown on Lucretia’s face was not reassuring. “Thanks
for your help, Lucy,” she said, hoping to stave off the inevitable. “Humph!
The trunk is safely up here, but I don’t understand what’s going on. You’ve
cleaned out your room? Why? I’m all in favor of neatness, but not to this
extent. You make it sound as if you are not planning to come back. And what am
I supposed to do with an extra empty room?” “I
don’t know when I’ll be back. I could be gone for a very long time,” Laura
said. “Stuff
and nonsense! How long does it take to sail from here to South Carolina? Three
days? Four? And then how long will it take you to distribute the food and
clothing supplies you are delivering? I understand that you’re responsible for
their safe arrival, but surely you’ll be back within the month. And if you
think I’m then going to help you drag this infernal trunk back downstairs, you
. . .” “Dear
Lucretia, please try to understand. Mine is not a task that can be handled
quickly. Yes, my ostensible job at the moment is to deliver the goods the
Committee has collected. But that title simply justifies them paying my passage
on the transport. Once I’m there, I have much bigger plans.” “Seems
to me you always have ‘big’ plans. You just conveniently forget to tell anyone
about them.” “Please
don’t be angry. I only have a few more days here at home, and I don’t want to
spend them fighting with you. Come, let’s go down to the kitchen and put the
kettle on for a cup of tea. I’ll try to explain exactly what we have planned.” Laura
settled herself at the kitchen table, but Lucretia refused to sit down. She
returned to the sideboard, where she had been in the midst of kneading a loaf
of bread. The vigorous punches and slaps she delivered to that lump of helpless
dough made Laura cringe. She fully understood that they were also meant to
express her sister’s displeasure. “Lucy,
I know you understand the abolitionist position as well as I do. I’ve sat
beside you in church as we listened to Reverend Furness preach about the evils
of slavery, and I’ve seen you nod your head in complete agreement with what he
says. Our country is fighting this terrible war to rid ourselves of an evil practice.
But there’s much more to the problem than simply putting down the Southern
rebellion and telling the slaves that they are free.” “Of
course I understand that, and I understand that our government will be faced
with great difficulties in assimilating the slaves into normal society once the
war is over. But that’s going to take government policies and government
action. You’re just one woman—more intelligent than the average woman, I grant
you—but still just one small woman against a very large problem. I fail to see
why the solution has suddenly become your responsibility, when you have
responsibilities right here at home.” “At
Port Royal, the problems can’t wait until the war is over.” “Why
not? Surely the war can’t go on for much longer.” “I’m
afraid that’s where you are wrong, sister. The Army has stopped signing
soldiers up for a three-month enlistment. Now they sign on for three years, and
even that may not be long enough, according to some of the speakers we have
heard recently.” Lucretia
whirled around and glared at her. “Well, if that is true, just how much do you
expect to accomplish with a war raging all around you—if you even manage to
survive?” “Port
Royal is perfectly safe, my dear. The Confederate forces abandoned it, and some
twelve thousand of our boys are now stationed on the islands to protect the
area. I’ll probably be safer there than on the streets of Philadelphia. You
keep telling me how dangerous our own streets are at night.” “So
it’s safe. And the Army is in control. And the slave owners are gone. What,
exactly, do you think you are going to do, beyond the obvious, benevolent
gesture of passing out some used clothing?” “I’m
hoping to set up a permanent resource center, where ex-slaves can come for all
sorts of assistance. We’ll provide food and clothing, of course, but I can also
offer medical treatment. We’ll have a lawyer or two to help them handle their
legal affairs. There are already cotton agents in place to help with the
selling of crops, and Ellen will start a school to teach both the children and
their parents.” Laura’s excitement was so great when she talked about this idea
that she could not help but smile in anticipation. Lucretia
simply stared at her for a moment. Then she spoke slowly, emphasizing each
word. “Are you telling me . . . that you’re taking . . . that young girl . . .
with you?” “Ellen
Murray? Of course.” Lucretia
turned away. She picked up the bread dough she had been working and slammed it
into a pan. “Raise!” she ordered, and Laura could have sworn she saw the dough
gather itself up to make a greater effort. The Kindle version is on sale for just $.99 all this week. Click here to purchase
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