Promises to the Dead (3 page)

Lydia smiled. "I knew you were a good boy, Jesse." Taking Perry's hand, she joined it with mine. "I trust you both to help each other," she murmured. "And to become friends."

Perry and I looked at each other but said nothing. It was clear he didn't wish to be friends with me any more than I wished to be friends with him.

Lydia let our hands go and lay back, her face peaceful. "Come closer, Perry. Keep me warm. I'm so cold, so weary."

Miss Sally touched my shoulder. "Let Lydia rest now, Jesse. But stay nearby in case I need you."

I huddled under a tree all by myself and fretted about the promise I'd just made. It seemed I'd gotten myself into a terrible fix. All that would save me was Lydia. If she lived, she'd take Perry to Miss Polly Baxter herself, and I'd be free to stay on the shore, hunting turtles and such for my uncle as if none of this had happened.

But if she died, I'd be forced to keep my word. A promise given to the dead is a sacred thing. Break it, and I'd never have a moment's peace. Lydia would haunt me forever, following me wherever I went.

A long time passed. The rain stopped once and started up again. The wind rose and fell. Down in the marsh, spring peepers made a glad noise, which seemed out of keeping with things. I wished they'd hush.

At last Miss Sally came to me, her face full of sorrow, and told me Lydia was dead. My heart filled with sadness for her and Perry and the poor little baby that never took a breath of air. While Miss Sally rocked Perry in her arms, trying to hush his sobs, I shed a few tears of my own for Lydia and Mama both.

After a while, Miss Sally came to me again and whispered, "Go back to my house, Jesse, and fetch two shovels from the shed. And bring the quilt from my bed to wrap her in. The white one with the wedding ring pattern. It's my very best."

I stared at Miss Sally, shocked. "Surely we ain't burying Lydia out here in the woods?"

"What else can we do, Jesse? We've got to hide her from the colonel. He'll be back to my house, like as not, nosing around, doing his best to put me in the jail house."

"But you're the best midwife in these parts and the best healer, too. Why would the colonel want to lock you up?"

Miss Sally looked me hard in the eye. "Nobody's proved it yet, but folks suspicion I've been helping fugitives go north for some years now. You know how slave owners feel about aiding and abetting."

I was speechless. All this time I'd thought Miss Sally was just an old Methodist lady who birthed babies and treated the ill and prayed hard for the dying. I'd never dreamed she was helping runaways.

"Go on now, Jesse," Miss Sally begged, "and, for the Lord's sake, keep your mouth shut when you go home. If Philemon gets wind of this, you know what will happen."

She meant the old man couldn't keep a thing to himself, especially after he'd had a few whiskies at the tavern.

"I won't say nothing," I promised. And how could I? I'd broken the law myself tonight, starting when I went for Miss Sally instead of the sheriff. Worse yet, I was likely to continue my life of crime till I was rid of Perry.

So I done what she asked and set out for her house with a heart full of misgivings.

CHAPTER 3

Just as I neared Miss Sally's place, a horseman came riding toward me, going slow, as if he was looking for something. Or someone. I tried to hide behind a tree, but Colonel Abednego Botfield was as sharp-eyed as an owl in pursuit of a mouse.

"Hey there, Jesse," he called softly. "What keeps you out so late on a rainy night? You got a sweetheart already?"

"I been hunting turtles, sir." Dry mouthed with fright, I scuttled past him as fast as a crab heading for deep water. "Missed my way in the marsh. Now I got to hurry. Uncle Philemon's bound to be looking for me."

"Slow down a second and let me ask you a question." Colonel Botfield blocked my way with his horse, a big bay with eyes as mean as his owner's.

I figured the bay would just as soon step on me as not, so I came to a stop and peered up at Colonel Botfield. I kept a good distance between us in case he made a grab for me. His slouch hat dipped low over his face, shadowing every feature except his mustache, so it was hard to tell what he aimed to do.

"I'm looking for the wench that ran off from the Widow Baxter," he said. "Name of Lydia. Light-complected, big bellied with child, had a boy with her. Pretty but insolent in her manner. You seen her? My niece wants her back real bad."

"No, sir," I whispered. "I ain't met a soul all day."

Colonel Botfield spat through his teeth into the mud at my feet. "You sure about that, Jesse? You wouldn't lie to me, would you, boy?"

"Hiding a runaway slave's against the law, sir."

Colonel Botfield pulled out a cigar. The flare from his match lit a face I'd have preferred not to see. "There's a reward for the wench and the boy both. Valuable property, you know. With or without your help, I reckon I'll track her down."

He studied my face, his eyes narrowed to slits. "No runaways escape Abednego Botfield," he said. "Not when he sets his mind on catching 'em."

I stood there in the road, my knees knocking, almost too scared to breathe. Cold rain trickled down the back of my neck. The wind blew through my damp jacket and trousers. I'd have given anything to be home safe in bed.

Keeping his eyes on me, Colonel Botfield nudged the horse. "Step on, sir." The big bay obeyed at once. No doubt he'd known the feel of his owner's whip many a time.

"You be sure and tell me if you see the woman," Colonel Botfield called back. "If I'm feeling generous, I might give you a nickel for the information—if it leads to her capture, that is."

He turned then and rode off into the rain. I wanted to holler after him he'd never find Lydia. Never, never, never. She was far beyond his reach or anyone else's. But I kept my mouth shut and let him go, glad to see his back.

When I was sure the man was really and truly gone, I slipped through Miss Sally's garden, found the shovels in her shed, grabbed the quilt off her bed, and sneaked back into the woods.

Perry and Miss Sally were sheltered under the tree where I'd left them. Despite everything, the poor boy had fallen fast asleep, his head on his mother's breast, his arms holding her tight.

"Where have you been, Jesse?" Miss Sally asked. "This child should be in a warm, dry bed. I fear he's sickening from fever himself."

"I ran smack into Colonel Abednego Botfield," I answered. "He held me up with a heap of questions about Lydia and Perry. He wants them real bad. There's a big reward and he aims to collect it."

Miss Sally clenched her fists. "May heaven protect us from that godless villain," she prayed. Then, taking one shovel, she led me away from Perry and Lydia.

"While you were gone, I found a good place under that pine over there," she told me. "The ground seems easy to dig. And it's out of sight of the path."

After that, we didn't say much. Just dug and dug, making the hole long and narrow, deeper and deeper. Dirt turned to mud, slipping and sliding back into the hole. Roots snagged our shovels, but we kept at it. It wouldn't do for Lydia to be found by a fox or a wild pig. Or Colonel Abednego Botfield's dogs. We wanted her and that poor little baby to sleep undisturbed.

Behind us we heard Perry crying. It was the saddest, loneliest sound I'd ever heard. Worse than wind blowing through bare trees, worse than an owl hooting deep in the woods on a rainy night, worse than a hound howling at the moon.

"I'd best go to him," Miss Sally said. "I need to prepare Lydia's body for burial, too."

I leaned on my shovel and watched her walk off through the trees. She was a right spry old lady. Too bad Uncle Philemon didn't have her grit. Why, if he'd tried to help me shovel, I'd have ended up burying him as well as Lydia.

When I judged the grave to be deep enough, I went to tell Miss Sally. While I'd been digging, she'd wrapped Lydia and the baby in the quilt. It came to me the old woman might have begun that quilt when she was a girl, still hoping to marry. Back in those long-ago days, she'd never have guessed what use she'd finally put it to. It fair gave me the shivers to think such thoughts.

Miss Sally put her hand on Perry's shoulder. "It's time to say good-bye to your mother," she said softly. "I know it's hard, but you must be brave, Perry. It's what your mama would want of you."

Perry jerked away from her. "You're not burying my mama in these woods!" he declared. "I won't let you!"

Miss Sally took his arm again. "Perry, darling, it's the only way to keep her from being found."

He shook his head, his eyes running over with misery. "It's raining and the ground's muddy and cold," he sobbed. "She'll be all alone. She'll think nobody loves her."

"Please, Perry," Miss Sally begged. "Your mama wants you to be safe. She don't want you taking sick here in the woods."

It took a powerful heap of coaxing, but at last Perry allowed Miss Sally and me to carry Lydia's body to the grave we'd dug. He walked along beside us, keeping one hand on his mama.

The hole was already filling with water, seeping up from the marshy ground. I didn't want to put Lydia and her baby down there any more than Perry did.

"How are we going to do it?" I asked Miss Sally. "At church they lower the coffin on ropes, but we ain't got a coffin or a rope."

Miss Sally sighed and picked up one end of the bundle. With a heavy heart, I took the other end. There just wasn't no proper way to do what had to be done. Slowly we eased our burden over the edge and let it fall with a terrible splash into the muddy water at the bottom.

Perry let out a howl of pure misery that gave me goosebumps. If Miss Sally hadn't stopped him, I swear he'd have jumped in after his mother. While they struggled, I stared into the grave, half hoping Lydia would shake the quilt off, sit up, and ask what she was doing down there. But the bundle lay where it had fallen, as still as if it contained nothing but a log.

When I reached for the shovel, Miss Sally laid a hand on my arm. "We have to say some prayers first," she said. "It's not proper to send her off without the Lord's blessing on her soul."

Somehow Miss Sally quieted Perry. Taking his hand and mine, she spoke the proper words from the Prayer Book. I'd heard them at burials so often I knew them by heart, too. "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die."

The wind blew through the treetops, and the rain fell softly, more like a fine mist now, but still cold, still wet. I knew Miss Sally meant to comfort Perry with her prayers, but the boy kept sobbing as if his heart was broke to pieces.

"For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy to take unto Himself the soul of our dear sister here departed," Miss Sally prayed on, "we therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."

Miss Sally picked up a handful of earth and dropped it into the grave. Recalling all the burials I'd attended, I dropped another handful. It was the right and proper thing to do, but I hated the sound and I hoped the dead couldn't hear it.

Perry dropped nothing into the grave. He stood beside Miss Sally, clasping one of her hands and crying for his mama.

"May your soul and your baby's soul rest in peace through the mercy of God," Miss Sally whispered to Lydia.

"Amen," I ended.

We stood there a while, listening to the wind and thinking our own thoughts, mainly wishing things had turned out different. Neither Miss Sally nor me wanted to pick up those shovels and fill that grave.

At last Miss Sally took me aside and whispered, "I hate to leave you here, Jesse, but I ought to take Perry home. He don't need to see his mama buried under all that dirt."

She was right. Even though it meant leaving me alone in the woods with the dead, it was best to spare Perry the sight of what had to be done.

"Come by the house when you're finished," she said. "We got plans to make."

It took some persuasion to get Perry to depart. Poor boy, he didn't want to leave his mama. Finally Miss Sally all but dragged him away.

Once they were gone, I picked up a shovel and began my sad task. When I was done filling the grave, I packed the dirt down and covered the fresh soil with dead leaves and fallen branches to make it look like nobody had disturbed the ground. Before I left, I promised Lydia I'd come back when it was safe and put up a proper marker.

"I'll carve your name on it," I told her, "and the date you departed this world, but for now I got to keep you hidden."

It may sound peculiar, but I had a feeling Lydia was close by, watching me, waiting for me to say more. Swallowing hard, I spoke the words I knew she wanted to hear. "Don't you worry none about Perry. I'll get him safe to Baltimore, I swear I will."

There was no backing out now. No matter how I dreaded taking that boy anywhere, I had to keep my promise to Lydia. As much as I admired her, I knew she'd make a fearsome ghost. Especially if she thought I'd let anything bad happen to Perry.

Fearful of seeing or hearing I don't know what, I ran all the way to Miss Sally's house. When I got there, she heard me putting the shovels in the shed and opened her back door. "You done well tonight, Jesse."

I shrugged. Digging a hole wasn't nothing to brag on. "I just wish she hadn't died."

Miss Sally smiled and patted my head like she was fond of me, which came as a surprise. "Do you think you can get Perry to Miss Polly Baxter in Baltimore City?"

"I promised his mama I would."

"You ever been there?"

"No, ma'am. I ain't never been anywhere but here."

Miss Sally sighed. "I'd go myself, but Colonel Botfield's got his eye on me for sure. He passed the house twice while you were filling in the grave. Once he paused at the gate like he was considering coming to the door, but he went on, thank the good Lord. It's lucky Perry's sleeping sound. If he'd cried out, the colonel would have been on him like a hawk."