Free North by Night by Katherine Ayres Page A

From Jonathan Clark. Oh, Miss Aurelia, romance is so hard.”
    “Yes. If my old mind can stretch back, I seem to recall stormy days and sunny ones. Are you sure you want to talk? I’m not one for intruding. Can’t stand when people mess about in my business, so I try to stay out of theirs.”
    Did that mean she didn’t want to hear my troubles? Or just that she wouldn’t pry? “I don’t want to bother you, but …”
    “But I’m here. I’m the best you’ll get just now.” She smiled.
    “It all started at the Clarks’ party,” I began. I unrolled the whole thing, tangles and all, like so many lengths of ribbon. She just sat and listened.
    “What do I do, Miss Aurelia? I like Jeremiah. But I used to like Jonathan. Maybe I still do. But I can’t tell him about the Railroad.”
    “That’s the one clear spot in this muddle,” she said. “I’m not sure about the Clark family’s loyalties. Especially that mother of his.”
    “So what will I do?”
    “Let’s think for a moment.” She studied me this way and that, as if I were a horse she wanted to buy. “You have two feet, don’t you, Lucy?”
    “Yes. Of course I do.”
    “Stand up, then, girl.”
    I did but wondered why.
    “Just as I thought. You can stand all by yourself. Seems to me, until you make up your mind otherwise, you’ll do fine.”
    “Do fine?” What did she mean?
    “You can stand on your own feet, Lucy. You don’t need to lean on any man. You’re independent, from what I’ve seen. Like most women, you don’t know your own strength.”
    Her words took me by surprise. “Miss Aurelia! Do you really think women are strong?”
    “Not all, but most are. Look at the women you know, dear. Which of them hasn’t suffered pain or loss with great courage? Which hasn’t borne a handful of children,lost one or two, been forced to make difficult choices? And yet they work as hard or harder than their men.”
    I thought about it. Mama, my grandmothers, the women in the village—they worked from morning till night, every day of the week. They worked pregnant and sick in every season. And Emma and Cass, fleeing north in the dead of winter. If they weren’t strong, who was?
    “In the short term you’ll need an answer for young Mr. Clark,” she continued. “Perhaps you could plead overwork—tell him you need time to sort out your feelings.”
    “That’s true,” I said. “I am busy, and very confused.”
    She nodded. “But you might think hard before you decide anything serious. How long have you worked with the fugitives?”
    “I’ve been helping for four years. Mama and Papa began the work after Papa saw an abolitionist newspaper and heard some speeches. They read books and articles and talked with the Quakers in Salem. Jeremiah’s uncle helped us set up a station.”
    “Lucinda, are these abolitionist beliefs yours, or do they simply belong to your parents?”
    I took my time answering. In truth, my beliefs had begun as echoes of my parents’ beliefs.
    “They’re mine,” I said at last. “I’ve heard terrible stories. Whips, brands, chopped-off fingers and toes. And especially now, after what Emma told us about Cass … Slavery is wrong.” I looked into Miss Aurelia’s eyes. “That
is
my belief.”
    “I don’t doubt you, dear. Just wished to provoke your thoughts. But how will you live your life? What will youdo about the Railroad if you marry a man who doesn’t share your beliefs?”
    My breath caught. I’d always assumed I could convince Jonathan of whatever I wanted. That he’d love me enough to join in my work. But would he? What would I do if he didn’t? Could I still care about him then? Did I even want to?
    I studied Miss Aurelia’s lean, oval face, the soft brown curls that escaped her thick bun. For a woman who didn’t like to interfere, she had just turned my life upside down.
    S UNDAY , J ANUARY 26, 1851
    Dear Lord, You held out Your hand to us today when we needed You desperately. Please, deliver