Maggie turned a hurt expression andtear-filled eyes her way.
“I’m sorry.” Tillie held out a hand. “Perhapsthey were delayed for some reason.” The words rang false, even toher, but she persisted. “Isn’t that right, Father?” she said whenhe poked his head into the room.
“Isn’t what right, dear?” He carried a towelwith him, drying his hands.
“Trains are never on time. Why, Uncle Robertsaid the same thing last Christmas, remember? He understands suchmatters. He runs the station.”
“Why don’t I go to the Telegraph Office?”Father crumpled the cloth. “Hugh Buehler often gets news fasterthan the newspapers do. To be honest, I can’t stand the anxietyeither. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He kissed Mother’s cheek,grabbed his hat, and left.
“Oh, Maggie.” Tillie faced her sister.“Remember the colored family from the other day?” Standing, shebent over at the waist, her hands at her right shoulder as ifweighed down by a gigantic pack. She did a grotesque half step tothe door and back. “Y’all don’t want them slave kotchers to git ya,does ya?” She aped the mother’s words, laughing.
Mother cut her short. “Tillie, how terrible!Have Father and I taught you nothing? The Coloreds in thiscommunity should be pitied and helped, not mocked.”
“Really, Tillie, you can be crass sometimes.”Maggie put on her superior older sister voice.
“I can be crass?” She straightened andscowled. “As I recall, you and George laughed as much as I did.”She grabbed her chair and yanked it back, plopping down hard andcrossing her arms over her bosom.
Opening her mouth as if to deny Tillie’saccusation, Maggie glanced at Mother, then stuck her nose in theair. “Well, what if I did? I’m not amused anymore.” She reddened asMother glared at them.
“Enough, girls.” Mother dropped the pastryroller and stepped away from the worktable. “You both know how yourfather and I feel about slavery, don’t you?”
“Of course.” They spoke in unison.
“Had I known that family went into hiding, Iwould have taken them in and kept them here until the dangerpassed.” Mother’s face flushed, and her brown eyes snapped. “We’vedone much for the cause of abolition, and prayed a long time fortheir freedom. Even so, I’m sure the Rebs don’t care a fig aboutemancipation.” Her eyes bore into Tillie. “If they catch theNegroes, they will sell them into slavery. Do you comprehend? Doyou want that to happen?”
“No.” Tillie dropped her gaze to the table.Her ears burned. Why did she always say and do the wrong thing atthe wrong time? She jumped up, excused herself, and fledupstairs.
She lay across her bed staring at theceiling. Mother’s words hammered at her, and she strained to castherself in the position of the colored folks. She imagined standingon a platform bound at the hands while men shouted out bids forher. She studied the creamy white complexion of her hand and arm.There, but for the grace of God, go I. The significance of thosewords exploded in her brain. Had she been born with dark skin…Shedidn’t dare finish the thought. To be sold away from Father andMother, Maggie and even Sam, and never see them again. Concern overher brothers didn’t come close. The idea of such a loss made herwant to cry.
Her thoughts drifted back to a hot Augustnight when she was eight years old. Unable to sleep, she wanderedout to the upstairs breezeway for fresh air. A full moonilluminated the back yard. A colored man slipped into Father’sbutcher shop and closed the door behind him. Mother went out with ablanket and some food. A short time later, she returned to thehouse empty-handed. At breakfast, Tillie asked about him, butFather rebuked her and told her never to speak of him. She neverdid and, since she never saw him again, forgot the incident. Untilnow.
Sadness overwhelmed her. Tears streamed fromher eyes and into her hair. She cried for the family in hiding, andfor James and William.
At a soft knock on the door, she rose to herelbows.
“May I come in?” Mother entered withoutwaiting for assent.
Tillie sat up, using the hem of her skirt towipe her eyes and nose.
“Tilliiieeee! For heaven’s sake.” Mother tooka handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Use this.”
Laughing through her tears, Tillie buried herface in the cloth.
“What’s gotten into you, my dear?” Motherperched on the bed and caressed Tillie’s head. “You aren’t the sameMatilda who lived here a few short months ago.”
“I don’t know, Mother. I don’t feel like hereither. I can’t say or do the right thing anymore. I’m like astranger even to me. Sometimes I look in the mirror, and I don’trecognize myself. It’s scary.” She sniffled and hiccupped.
Mother pulled her into her arms and kissedthe top of Tillie’s brown head. “My baby’s growing up.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you with my story. Ithought you’d be amused. I wanted to lighten the moment and getMaggie’s mind off George. Instead, I walked straight into my ownfolly.”
Mother squeezed her. “Believe me, Tillie, Iunderstand. You’ve hit a stage in life we all go through, where youfeel as though nothing ever changes. But, before you know it, theentire world has gone awry and you can’t keep up.”
Fresh tears welled, and she covered her facewith the handkerchief, pressing it hard into her eyes. “Does itever go away?” The kerchief muffled her voice.
“Yes, and sooner than I would like, that’sfor certain.” Mother gave Tillie one more squeeze, and thenreleased her. “I’ll ask Maggie to do your chores this afternoon.Why don’t you stay up here for a while? Perhaps you can write toJames and William, or read a book.”
“Thank you, Mother. I’d like that.”
* * * *
Tillie returned below stairs at the usualsuppertime, not daring to remain upstairs when Father came home. Hemight think Mother punished her for something.
Mother delayed the meal until six o’clock.“Girls, come in and set the table.”
“Should I set Father’s place?”
“Yes, dear. If Father gets hungry, he’ll findhis way home.”
“He always does,” Tillie sang out.
Mother laughed.
They finished cleaning up supper when Fatherentered through the back door, red-faced and out of breath. “I’msorry, Margaret. I didn’t intend to be gone
