She wasn’t safe. Coswell could come afterher. In fact, it was something she expected him to do. Tinyshivers rippled down her spine. “Has someone stopped by askingabout me?”
“No.” Mrs. Brown’s forehead creased. “Shouldthere be? Do you have family around here? I could go get them, letthem know you are all right.”
“Thank you, but that is not necessary. I …was expecting someone to arrive in town the morning after the fire.Perhaps they were delayed.” The lie flowed relatively smoothly offher tongue, but she couldn’t tell if the woman had bought herstory. She held her breath.
Mrs. Brown bobbed her head the way olderfolks often did. Her contemplative expression matched the silencein the room. Silence Allison wished the midwife hadn’t broken whenshe asked, “Were you trapped? Why couldn’t you make it out?”
Yes, I was trapped. I was chained in thecorner. “George didn’t tell you?”
“No. It is your story to tell.”
Allison couldn’t believe George hadn’texplained… Was he respecting her privacy? Or did he think Mrs.Brown should hear it from her?
She looked at Mrs. Brown. The lady hadwrinkles around her eyes and wrinkles engrained across her foreheadand around her mouth. She had seen a lot over the years. Perhapsher situation wouldn’t come as a shock.
“I was chained,” she said, her voice barelyabove a whisper.
The old woman blinked and Allison fearedshe’d be asked to repeat it louder.
“Slavery didn’t end for you did it?”
“No.”
Mrs. Brown’s back straightened and her jawtightened. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that. There was nothingyou could do.”
Allison gave a slow nod. Still, thatknowledge didn’t help much.
Mrs. Brown did not have to ask any morequestions. Allison read in her eyes that the woman understood whatshe had been through.
The heaviness weighing on her lifted. She hadbeen kept away from everyone for so long she had almost forgottenwhat it was like to converse with another woman—to feel thatfeminine connection.
Last night, she had wanted to die because shecouldn’t imagine living. Living and actually enjoying life. Deathhad been preferable to her predicament.
Mrs. Brown offered a small smile. “I’ll getyou something to eat.”
Maybe after she ate, she’d have theopportunity to ask Mrs. Brown some questions. She wanted to knowmore about the man who rescued her.
She only knew his name. George. The manlyname matched the fact he seemed short on words and fit his tall, muscular frame. Those musclescarried a lot of power, chiseled by hard labor. Last night all shefelt was tenderness and she had melted into him, molding her bodyagainst his chest like heated wax.
There was more to him than being her gallantsavior. Her life experiences had taught her that men had manysides. He had rescued her. When he came back he’d want something inreturn. After all, he was paying for her care.
A bitter taste permeated into her mouth. Menwere all the same. They could turn on the charm and act gentlemanlyto get what they wanted. At their core, however, they wereself-centered pigs.
Mrs. Brown handed her a bowl of soup.“Something light to start with; I can get you more if you are stillhungry.”
“Thank you.”
Allison looked at her soup as if it was abowl of mud. She didn’t want to eat. Mrs. Brown was the motherlytype though and Allison knew she wouldn’t be allowed to just pushthe bowl away like she did with Grier. She took the spoon in herhand and forced the first bite into her mouth. The tasty bits ofchicken and large chunks of noodles slid easily down her throat.Her empty stomach rejoiced at the tasty nourishment.
Mrs. Brown hovered over her like a nervousmare watching her filly.
Allison resisted the urge to let go of thespoon and just tip the bowl to her lips to drink it down faster. Asit was, her spoon soon scraped the empty bowl.
“Would you like some more?”
“Yes, please.” Heat seeped into Allison’scheeks. Her table manners left much to be desired. Thankfully, Mrs.Brown did not rebuke her.
She ate the second bowl of soup slowly, likea civilized person.
Mrs. Brown stopped hovering and again satnext to her. “Something’s on your mind.”
“Yes. Who was the man who rescued me?”
“His name is George. He works at aroustabout.”
Allison nodded. Loading and unloadingsteamboats would have built up his muscles. It was a back breakingjob. Knowing his job told her nothing about his character, though. She ran her tongue across herteeth. She didn’t know how to ask about him without seeming nosy.Or heaven forbid, interested.
“I’m afraid I didn’t thank him for savingme.”
Mrs. Brown laughed. “Quite the opposite, mydear. Don’t worry, I explained to him you were in shock. But youcan thank him when he returns.”
Allison turned her head, looking away fromMrs. Brown “And when will that be?” She kept her voice level.
“If he’s making another run on the steamboathe’ll be back in two weeks.”
Two weeks. Did that mean she would be stayingwith Mrs. Brown for two weeks?
“You’re welcome to stay here for a long asyou’d like,” Mrs. Brown said as if reading her mind. “With yourhouse burned down do you have anywhere else to go?”
“No, ma’am.”
Mrs. Brown smiled. “I’ve been lonely for along time. My husband died and my children were all sold. I’ve madepeace with never seeing them again.” The sad note in her voicelingered and then she forced a smile. “It will be nice pretendingto have a daughter again.”
Allison’s heart somersaulted. The woman wanted to think of her as herdaughter? She wasn’t ready for such closeness.
And yet a tiny piece of her wished she couldbreak down the thick wall she had built around her heart, wishedshe could be normal. She’d always dreamed of getting married to ahandsome colored man, but Grierhad kept her to himself. She’d never given up on that dream untilshe wanted to give up on life. Now she was alive and free from thatmonster, was it too late to fulfill her childhood fantasies? Couldshe have a safe, loving relationship with a tall, handsome blackman? A man like George?
“Thank you,” she said,
