Later, alone in the sick room, she wept for the black woman who had brought her water and was now in Donovan’s hands.
The next afternoon she woke to find Belle Mills sitting beside her. Honor blinked to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. But no: she could never have dreamed up Belle’s bonnet, with the widest oval brim she’d ever seen, lace ringlets cascading down on each side and tied with a bright orange ribbon. It accentuated the yellow tone of her skin, though, and while the bonnet was very feminine, it had the effect of making Belle’s face, with its strong jaw and staring eyes, more masculine.
“Honor Bright, you went and got married and didn’t even tell me! I had to find out from my brother, and I hate getting news from him. I’d a mind not to even come out here, ’cept he told me you were sick and I had to see for myself that your new family’s lookin’ after you. Don’t look like they’re doin’ much. Ain’t even here.”
“Harvesting oats,” Honor murmured. “They have to get it in before the storms that are expected tomorrow.”
Belle chuckled. “Honey, listen to you, talkin’ ’bout the harvest. Next you’ll be tellin’ me how many jars of peaches you put up.” She laid a cool hand on Honor’s brow-Honor wondered how she managed to remain so in such heat. The gesture reminded her of her mother, and she closed her eyes for a moment to relish the kindness.
“Well, you still got a fever,” Belle announced, “but it ain’t too bad. You’ll live. Now then, I’m glad to hear you took my advice about marryin’. And it’s no surprise you chose Jack Haymaker, with a farm like this. Course you got the mother-in-law to go with it. I remember her stare. Oh, honey, what is it? There you go again.” For Honor was crying, tears rolling in hot rivers down the sides of her face to pool in her ears. Seeing Belle Mills was like discovering a sweet plum in a bowl of unripe fruit.
“There, now.” Belle slid her arm around Honor’s shoulders and held her tight until she had stopped. She did not ask what the tears were for.
“Guess what’s come to Wellington,” she said when Honor was quiet. “The train! Had her maiden run from Cleveland a couple weeks ago. Whole town was out to see it come in, and of course most of the ladies had to have new hats. Told you the train would bring business.”
“I would like to see it.”
“It’s like the biggest blackest snorting horse you ever saw. Did you know it goes fifteen miles an hour? Fifteen! Only two and a half hours to Cleveland. I’m gonna ride on it soon. You should come with me.”
Honor smiled.
“Oh, I brung your wedding present,” Belle said. “You didn’t think I’d come empty-handed, did you?”
“We-thee didn’t have to-I thank thee-Jack and I thank thee.” Honor went through a series of corrections to find the right words. In general, Quakers did not give gifts, as material possessions should not be given heightened status. But she did not want to criticize Belle’s generous gesture. And so she took the flat, paper-wrapped parcel tied with a blue ribbon.
“Go on, open it. You don’t have to wait for your husband. I didn’t come all this way not to see if you like ’em.”
Honor pulled off the ribbon and unwrapped the paper to find two linen pillowcases edged in fine lace. She was not meant to care, but she loved them.
“Here’s what I think,” Belle said. “Whatever’s happened to you during the day, as long as you got a nice pillowcase for your head at night, you’ll be all right. You got yourself a place to lay your head, Honor Haymaker. Things are lookin’ up.”
Faithwell, Ohio
8th Month 27th 1850
Dear Belle,
I am writing to thank thee for visiting me when I was ill. I am feeling better now, though still weak.
I thank thee too for the beautiful pillowcases thee has given Jack and me. No one has ever given me such a gift. I will treasure them, as I treasure the hand of friendship thee extends.
Thy faithful friend,
Honor Haymaker
Blackberries
A FEW DAYS later, when her head was clearer and she had regained her strength enough to be up and about, Honor found a response to Jack’s argument about slavery and cotton. It came so plainly to her mind that she wanted to pass it on before it lost its shine. And so at supper, to the astonishment of all three Haymakers, Honor spoke out without having been asked a question first. She was so eager to say what she was thinking, and so unused to leading a conversation, that she did not preface her words with any explanation. Into the silence-the Haymakers did not talk much when they ate-she stated, “Perhaps we should all pay a bit more for our cloth, so that cotton growers may use that extra money to pay the slaves, making them workers rather than slaves.”
The Haymakers stared at her. “I would pay a penny more a yard if I knew it was paying to dismantle slavery,” she added.
“I did not know thee had the pennies to be generous with,” Dorcas remarked.
Judith Haymaker passed her son a platter of ham. “Adam Cox would have to shut down his business if he raised the prices on the cloth he sold,” she said. “There are few pennies to spare these days. Besides, southerners would rather stop farming than pay their slaves a wage. It is not in their nature to make such a change.”
“‘The stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself.’” Though she had heard the words many times, Honor spoke them without as much force as she would have liked.
Judith frowned. “Thee does not need to quote Leviticus at me, Honor. I know my Bible.”
Honor dropped her gaze, ashamed of her attempt to engage in a true discussion of the issue.
“We come from a slave state,” Judith continued. “We moved to Ohio from North Carolina ten years ago, as many Friends did at the time, for we could no longer live in the midst of slavery. So we understand the cast of the southern mind.”
“I am sorry. I did not mean to judge.”
“There are a few farmers in the South who have given their slaves freedom, or allowed them to buy it,” Jack conceded, “but they are rare. And it is difficult for free Negroes to find a living. Many come north, leaving families behind, to settle in places like Oberlin, which is more tolerant than most. But even in Oberlin they are a separate community, and those who have run away are not entirely safe. That is why we support colonization. It seems a better option.”
“What is colonization?”
“Negroes come originally from Africa, and they would be happier living back there, in a new country of their own.”
Honor was silent, thinking about this. She wondered how Jack knew what would make Negroes happy. Had he asked them?
She had an opportunity to do so herself the following week. Jack was driving the wagon to Oberlin to have a corn husker repaired, and Honor accompanied him. Ten days before she could not imagine having the strength to cross a room, much less go to town, but when the fever abated, her recovery was quick, as others told her it would be, and she was eager to go to Oberlin again. Adam had promised that once the harvest season was over, he would ask Jack if she might occasionally help him at the store on Sixth Days. She did not know what her husband would say: probably that she should learn about cows instead of fabric. Judith had said she would soon have her milking, which Honor dreaded, for the cows seemed big and alien. Because of her illness, so far she had remained in the house and garden, and managed to avoid the animals, with their insistent hunger and muck. She could not escape the smell, however.
Each time Honor’s life changed, she found she missed what she’d had before: first Bridport, then Belle Mills’s Millinery, now Cox’s Dry Goods. But there was no use in dwelling on what her life might have been: such thinking did not help. She had noticed that Americans did not speculate about past or alternative lives. They were used to moving and change: most had emigrated from England or Ireland or Germany. Ohioans had moved from the south or from New England or Pennsylvania; many would go farther west. Already since she had arrived in Faithwell three months before, two families had decided that after the harvest they would go west. Others would come from the east or south to take their place. Houses did not remain empty for long. Ohio was a restless state, full of movement north and west. Faithwell and Oberlin too had that restless feel. Honor had not noticed it when she first arrived, but now she was discovering that all was in flux, and it seemed to disturb only her.