To her surprise-for Honor did not expect them to understand-both women nodded. “That jes’ Ohio,” Mrs. Reed said. “Lots o’ people say that.”
“Everyone’s just passin’ through Ohio to get to somewhere else,” Belle added. “Runaways goin’ north; settlers headin’ west. You meet someone, you never can be sure you’ll see ’em the next day. Next day or next month or next year they may be off. Elsie and I are the veterans. How long you been in Oberlin?” she asked Mrs. Reed.
“Twelve years.”
“I been here fifteen. That’s ancient for most. Wellington was only settled in 1818, and it ain’t even been officially incorporated yet. And Oberlin’s newer than that.”
“The town I am from is a thousand years old,” Honor said.
Mrs. Reed and Belle chuckled. “Well then, honey, we’re just little children to you,” Belle said.
“That what you want, Honor Bright?” Mrs. Reed said. “A town with a thousand-year history, and people who live there all they lives? You in the wrong state for that.”
“You want that rooted-down feeling, you go to Boston or Philadelphia,” Belle added. “But they’re only a couple hundred years old. Really you’re in the wrong country. Maybe you should go back to England. What’s stoppin’ you?”
Honor thought of the penetrating nausea on board the Adventurer, of the weeks with no solid footing. But had she ever found her feet in America? Her stomach might be settled, but her legs still felt unsteady.
“Why you leave England in the first place?” Mrs. Reed asked. If she closed her eyes, Honor could not always tell who was asking the questions.
“My sister came here to marry, but died on the way.”
“I didn’t ask about your sister, I asked about you. You got family back in England?”
Honor nodded.
“Why didn’t you stay with them? You didn’t have to come with your sister.”
Honor’s mouth filled with a bitter taste, but she knew she must answer. “I was meant to marry, but he met another. He left the Society of Friends to be with her.” Thinking of Samuel reminded Honor that soon she too would no longer be a Friend.
“So? That don’t mean you couldn’t stay.”
Honor took a breath and forced herself to voice what she had never said aloud, or even allowed herself to think clearly. “Back home there was a slot in which my life was meant to fit. Then it was taken away and it felt as if there was no place for me. I thought it better to go and start somewhere new. So I thought.”
“That’s a very American notion, leaving problems behind and movin’ on,” Belle said. “If you thought that, maybe you’re not so English after all. Maybe you got it in you to start over. Now, name me some things you like about Ohio.”
When Honor did not immediately answer, Belle added, “I can tell you one thing.” She nodded at Mrs. Reed’s hat. “Maple leaves. You’re always pointing out that red they change to in the fall, saying that don’t happen with English trees.”
Honor nodded. “Yes, they are beautiful. And the cardinals, and the red-bellied woodpeckers. I did not think birds could be so red. I also like hummingbirds.” She paused. “Fresh corn. Popcorn. Maple syrup. Peaches. Fireflies. Chipmunks. Dogwood trees. Some of the quilts.” She glanced at Mrs. Reed, thinking of the quilt in her front room.
“Listen to you. Not so bad, is it? You keep lookin’, with an open mind, and you’ll find more.”
A sound came then from the cradle: Comfort was not crying, but simply announcing, in her baby way, I am here.
“Ah, baby girl.” Before Honor could move, Mrs. Reed had lifted Comfort from the cradle and was holding her against her chest and patting her back. Comfort did not cry, but lay in the stranger’s arms, accepting where she was. “Love the feeling o’ babies’ weight,” Mrs. Reed said. “They like a sack o’ cornmeal, just settin’ there all solid and waitin’ to be eaten up.” She smacked her lips against the baby’s ear. “I love me some babies.”
Honor looked at her daughter and had for a moment that patchwork feeling of being locked into place, and fitting. This time it was not with Jack, but with two women, alike in ways that made their skin color irrelevant. But she knew it could not last: Mrs. Reed had her own community, and Belle-sitting now, already drained of whatever energy she had stored during the night-would not last long. Honor could not remain here; she saw that. The question was whether she could find that settled feeling elsewhere.
The sound was so loud that Belle and Mrs. Reed shouted. It made Honor go silent, though, and so did Comfort, though after a second she began to scream.
Donovan had broken down the back door, kicking it in so that the hinges twisted and the glass shattered. The women jumped up and swung to face him, Mrs. Reed holding tight to Comfort.
“Jesus Christ Almighty, Donovan, what are you doing?” Belle cried. “God damn you, breakin’ down my door! You’re gonna pay to have that fixed. Hell, I’ll make you fix it.”
“Havin’ yourselves a little tea party, are you, ladies?” Donovan said. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m lookin’ for someone.”
“She ain’t here-you missed her by a week.”
“I ain’t missed her-she’s right here.” He grinned at Mrs. Reed.
“What you want with me?” Mrs. Reed looked grim. Comfort was no longer screaming, but had settled into a steady wail.
“Stop that goddamned baby crying,” Donovan growled.
Mrs. Reed handed Comfort to Honor, who wrapped the baby in her shawl to protect her from the cold air coming in through the gap where the door had been.
“What you want with me?” Mrs. Reed repeated.
“Got a little business to take care of. Your old master in Virginia will be mighty pleased to see you back after all these years. Even if you an old woman now, he might still get some work out o’ you.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Belle interjected. “She’s a free woman, lives in Oberlin.”
“Oh, I know where Mrs. Reed lives, dear sister,” Donovan answered. “In that little red house on Mill Street, got all the interesting activity goin’ on. I know all about her-ran away from her master twelve years ago, her and her daughter. Don’t worry, I’ll be lookin’ for her too, and your granddaughter. Take you back all together. It’ll be worth it for the baby, grow up to make a fine slave, if she ain’t been spoiled yet by freedom.” He pronounced the last word as if it were a disease.
“You can’t do that,” Belle protested. “She’s protected by the law. And the baby was born free.”
“You know very well the Fugitive Slave Law gives me the power to take her back even if she ran away years ago.” He turned to Mrs. Reed. “Tell me, what are you doin’ down here having coffee with my sister and Honor Bright? That was a risk, wasn’t it, strayin’ so far from home, for what-her?” He jerked his head at Honor.
Mrs. Reed did not answer except with the tight line of her mouth.
Comfort had stopped crying and was now hiccuping. “Donovan, please leave Mrs. Reed alone,” Honor said in a low voice. She knew why he was doing this: to punish her for having a child with Jack. “Comfort and I will leave Wellington tomorrow and thee will never have to see us again. Please.”
“Too late for that.” Donovan gazed at her and Comfort as if from a distance, his eyes flat, and Honor understood that something had clicked back into place, a way of thinking that was easier for him. The moment when they had stood together looking at the stumps outside Oberlin and he had offered to change for her now seemed a very long time ago.
He took from his pocket a length of rope. Grabbing Mrs. Reed’s wrists, he twisted them behind her back and tied them together, all in a quick motion, as if expecting her to fight. Mrs. Reed did not fight, however. She simply looked at him over her shoulder, the spectacles blanking out her eyes.