Belle (9 page)

The
next morning, Daniel got up early and quietly tiptoed out of the room so he wouldn’t awaken Mr. Parker. Daniel had grown accustomed to having a cup of coffee to start the day, but because his mother was away he had to make it himself. To his surprise, Belle was already in the kitchen laying bacon into a hot skillet. He saw that she’d made another batch of her heavenly biscuits to go with the grits and eggs also waiting to be prepared.

A confused Daniel asked, “How long have you been up?”

“Since five.”

He stared as if she’d suddenly grown another head. “Five?!”

Belle nodded. “It’s the time I got up at home. Mrs. Grayson wanted her breakfast served promptly at quarter past six every morning, so I’m accustomed to rising early. Of course, your mama won’t let me do this when she’s here, but since she isn’t—”

Daniel smiled his understanding.

“Coffee’s already done.”

Daniel thought her an angel. “Thank you.” He yawned, pouring himself a cup. “Have you seen the pest this morning?”

Belle smiled. “Not yet.”

Daniel took a small sip of the hot brew and found it delicious. “Don’t tell Mama, but this coffee is much better than hers.”

Belle began placing her biscuits in the pan. “It’s not nice to lie so early in the morning, Daniel Best.”

He chuckled. “I’m not lying.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet you’ll tell that to any girl who’ll listen.”

He stared. “Belle?”

She paused and looked up. “What?”

“Where’d all this sassiness come from?”

She rolled out the remaining scraps of dough. “What sassiness?”

“That sassiness.”

“It’s not sassiness; it’s just me.”

“Then what happened to the shy, quiet girl who was here a few days ago?”

“She’s still here. I’ve just been feeling my way, that’s all. Learning the lay of the land, as they say. And—since it looks pretty good, I decided to start being me.”

Daniel found this side of her so intriguing he didn’t know if he was ready for the real Belle; he had enough trouble handling the old one.

The biscuits were all in the pan now and she popped them into the oven. “Well?” she asked, turning to face him.

Over his cup, he asked in return, “Well, what?”

“Is it all right for me to be me, or at least who I’m trying to be?”

He paused and looked into her eyes. The seriousness reflected there moved him. “Yes, it’s okay.”

She smiled. “Good. I hope the world’s ready.”

Daniel chuckled. “Me, too.”

Since the day was Saturday and there was no school, Jojo slept in. While Belle saw to the cooking, Daniel took a few more draws on his coffee, then asked, “When did you decide you wanted to be someone else?”

Belle paused, and thought on that for a moment, then said, “I don’t think I’m being someone else. I think I’m turning into the me I couldn’t be as a slave.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t speak my mind, look people in the eye—things of that nature. But here I can, can’t I?” It was more statement than question.

“Yes, you can.”

“And when I’m done growing myself, I want to be as confident as your sister and as polished and wise as your mother.”

Daniel laughed. “You’ll be some kind of woman then.”

Belle smiled. “I would be, wouldn’t I?”

He shook his head with amusement. “Yes, you would.” And every eligible bachelor in the county would be lined up at the door, wanting her favors, Daniel noted to himself. That realization didn’t sit well.

Once the biscuits were done, Belle asked, “Are you going to eat down here, or upstairs?”

Daniel looked at the bacon, eggs and grits and knew the answer. “Here. Mr. Parker was asleep when I left. I’m hoping he’ll stay that way for a bit, so let’s eat.”

They sat at the dining table in the parlor. After a few moments of silent eating, Belle asked, “Is the food okay?”

He nodded. The fat, light-as-air biscuits were also better than his mother’s, another truth he decided he’d keep to himself.

“Is your Francine a good cook?” Belle asked then.

Francine couldn’t boil water, but being the loyal intended, Daniel lied. “She’s a wonderful cook.”

“That’s good, since you seem to like to eat.”

He shot her an amused look. “All right, Miss Belle, there’s sassy and then there’s sassy.”

“There’s also truth, Daniel Best. Save your sister at least one of those biscuits.”

Daniel smiled guiltily. He’d eaten at least five. “I’m a growing man.”

“With a hollow stomach.”

They both laughed, each enjoying this time together.

Moments later, an obviously sleepy Jojo came dragging into the room, plate in hand. She was dressed in her nightclothes and robe. “It’s far too early to be so happy,” she declared, taking a seat. “I could hear you two on the stairs. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” they replied.

Having finished his breakfast, Daniel backed his chair from the table and stood. “I should get back.”

“Leave your plate,” Belle told him. “I’ll take it to the kitchen when I take mine.” She wondered if this was how he and Francine would spend their mornings once they were married.

“Okay. I’ll see you both later.”

And he was gone.

Nelson Parker awakened around noon. When his eyes met Daniel’s he said, “I thought I dreamed you. Guess I didn’t.”

“No, sir.” Daniel wondered how the man would react now.

“That’s twice you’ve called me that.”

“What?”

“Sir. Never had anyone call me that before. What’s your name?”

“Name’s Daniel. I was raised to be respectful of my elders,” Daniel replied.

“I understand, but folks like me don’t get much of that where I’m from.”

Daniel watched Nelson struggle to a sitting position, then asked him, “Where are you from?”

“Richmond.”

Daniel found that surprising. “You’ve come far.”

“Too far.”

Nelson Parker quieted then as if seeing rising memories. “Having dinner with her was the last thing I remember. She must’ve put something in my food to make me sleep.”

He turned his head to meet Daniel’s eyes, and Daniel asked, “Who?”

“My wife, Lily. She knew I wouldn’t come North without her. I gave her no choice, I guess.”

Daniel had no idea what the man was talking about, but from the tone of Parker’s voice, he sensed the runaway loved Lily very much. It reminded Daniel of how his father sounded sometimes when speaking of his mother, Cecilia—as if his sun rose and set in her smile. “Did your wife send you North?”

“I’m assuming. Her and her mother. Both of them wanted me to run, but how could I, knowing I’d have to leave them behind?”

“Why was that?”

“Lily’s mother’s sick. Bedridden. Been like that a long time. Her master was decent enough to keep Lily on the place to take care of her, but not enough to free them.”

“So how’d you wind up in a box?”

He paused for a moment. “What box?”

“Mr. Still shipped you here from Philadelphia in a big crate.”

Nelson’s eyes widened, but before he could react further, Belle entered the room carrying a tray bearing Daniel’s lunch.

Belle was pleased to find their visitor awake and alert. “Good afternoon, Mr. Parker.”

He nodded, then said, “Just knew I’d dreamed you, too.”

Belle shook her head. “Nope. I am real as life. My name’s Belle. How are you?”

“Feeling a mite better, Belle. That food sure smells good.”

“Well, how about you take this plate and I’ll bring Daniel another?”

Even though Belle knew how much Daniel liked to eat, under the circumstances she doubted he’d mind having Mr. Parker’s needs satisfied first, especially since there was plenty more food in the kitchen.

As Belle settled the tray across Parker’s lap, he asked, “You sure you got enough to spare?”

Belle nodded. “Yes. Now, eat up, but start slow. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“What’s today?”

Daniel answered, “Saturday.”

“Went to visit Lily on Sunday.” He paused for a moment as if trying to verify his memories. “Yes, Sunday. Had dinner, then I turned up here. It’s what I get for loving a healer woman.”

He spooned up some stew, and as he swallowed, said, “Lord, this is good. Son, you’re a lucky man to have a lady who can cook like this.”

Embarrassment scorched Belle from her forehead to her toes. “I’m not his lady,” she offered.

Nelson looked between the two, then asked Daniel, “Why not? You waiting for someone to beat you to her?”

Belle chuckled at the stunned look on Daniel’s face, then explained, “He already has an intended.”

Parker shot off another question. “Can she cook like this?”

Daniel stuttered, “No—I mean yes.”

His fractured answer drew Belle’s immediate attention and Daniel looked guilty. Did that mean that Francine couldn’t cook? The knowledge made Belle smile inside. “Daniel, I’ll get you another plate. Be right back.”

After her departure, Parker said to Daniel, “She’s a nice girl. I apologize for putting you on the spot that way. Just assumed—”

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Parker. I’m sure Belle didn’t take offense either.”

“Well, if I didn’t love my Lily, and I was ten years younger, I’d give these bucks around here a run for their money. Like my women tall and dark like that.”

Daniel didn’t know what to say. He was finding himself attracted to tall and dark, too.

Parker said, “Now, finish telling me about this box.”

So Daniel did, adding the vital role played by the Morgan brothers.

“Owe those two my life, I guess.”

Daniel thought so, as well, then asked, “You don’t really wish to return South, do you?”

“Yes, I do, but truth is, I can’t. Not now, and Lily knew that. If I go back, there’s no telling what’ll happen to me.”

Daniel understood. Few, if any, masters welcomed their escaped slaves back home with open arms. Parker could be whipped or at worst killed for his actions. “So what will you do?”

Parker shrugged, “Make my life somewhere here, I suppose, then try and figure how to get Lily freed, too.”

“Do you think you can buy her freedom?”

“Don’t know.”

“Well, my parents and I are members of the local Vigilance Committee. I’m sure we can help you figure it all out.”

Parker responded the same way Belle had when she first arrived. “What’s a vigilance committee?”

So for the next little while, Daniel explained to Parker how the committee worked and what it stood for. He told him about the rallies and the speeches, the debates and how the abolitionist communities of all races agitated for the freedom of the country’s three million slaves. “Some committees have had armed confrontations with slave catchers and others have gone into courtrooms and forcibly removed fugitives from the witness stand to keep them from being returned to slavery.”

Parker’s bearded face showed he’d been impressed. “Lots going on up here in the North.”

“Yes, there is, and it won’t stop until slavery’s stopped.”

“Amen.”

Late that same afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Best returned home. They were surprised to hear of Nelson Parker’s arrival and immediately went up to speak with him. A short while later, Mrs. Best came back down, leaving her husband and Daniel to continue the in-depth interview the committee members conducted with every passenger who passed through their station. Belle knew that many of the questions would be some of the same ones put to her. Questions concerning her past; how she’d been treated; who owned her; and how many years she’d been held against her will. In Mr. Parker’s case the subject of relocation would be discussed also.

The next morning, Mr. Parker was gone. He’d been passed on to another station; Belle didn’t know where but put him in her prayers, right behind her father.

For the next few days, Belle poured all of her energies into working on the pattern for Mrs. Best’s gown. Daniel had gotten the butcher paper for her, and once the pattern was measured and cut, she began pinning the paper pieces to the fabric, a beautiful burgundy sateen Mrs. Best found in Detroit at historic Second Baptist’s Free Produce store. Belle was so focused on making this the best gown she’d ever created, she spent all of her free time working. Sewing was Belle’s love, her passion, and now that she had an opportunity to take it up again, it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

The next day, Francine paid the Bests a visit.

It seemed Francine was giving a mind feast—whatever that was. Belle refused to show her ignorance by asking to have the particulars of the event explained; she didn’t want to give Francine the satisfaction. Belle looked to Jojo and Mrs. Best, who were also in the parlor. Jojo looked cool, her normal stance whenever Francine came around. Mrs. Best’s face gave away nothing, but her eyes were as cool as her daughter’s.

“Please say you’ll come, Belle.”

Francine was dressed in gray today: gray dress, cape, hat and shoes. Her long glossy hair was parted simply and coiled on her neck. Once again, Belle could see why Daniel wanted to marry her. “I don’t know, Francine. I’m really busy—”

“Oh, pooh. It can’t be that important. Everyone wants to meet you.”

As if she’d anticipated resistance, Francine then announced, “And Belle, you can’t use the excuse that you’ve nothing to wear. My girlfriends and I went through our trunks and found you some things.”

For the first time, Belle noticed the large black carpetbag sitting at Francine’s tiny, well-shod feet. Francine picked it up and thrust the bag at Belle, giving her no choice but to take it. Belle didn’t mind charity, after all she had very few personal possessions, but having Francine aid her didn’t make her feel grateful in the least. In fact she felt like a penniless, ill-dressed runaway having to take her better’s hand-me-downs. “Thank you, Francine. I’m sure I’ll find something suitable in here. Please give your friends my thanks.”

Francine smiled like a fox closing in on a chicken. “I will. The party’s at my home on Saturday. I can trust you to ride over with Dani, can’t I? You aren’t going to need more comforting again, are you?”