Morning Star (13 page)

CHAPTER 32

Felicia

FELICIA, DELIA,
and Florence sat at the kitchen table, each with a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

“Now then, what's happened?” asked Florence.

Delia blew across the mug, rippling the brown fluid. “I sold a truck.”

“Is that so bad?”

“I'm supposed to be Mr. Abbot's secretary, not a salesperson.”

“So tell us,” said Felicia.

“I was busy as usual, filing forms, typing letters, organizing sales packages. There was this man out in the lot, looking. He kept coming in, wanting someone to help him. I told him that Mr. Abbot was in the city, and I couldn't find Sid, the salesman.”

“Did you suggest he come back later?”

“Yes, but he was persistent. He had his eye on a red truck, said he needed one for his business. I happened to know about that vehicle. Mr. Abbot had said it was a great deal for the right person. It occurred to me that this was the right person.”

“And?”

“I couldn't help it. I started to tell him what Mr. Abbot had said—how sturdy it was, no rust, pretty good gas mileage. Before I knew it, he wanted to buy it.”

“That's great, Mom.”

“I know about the contracts. I prepare them all the time. He signed in all the right places. His credit check was perfect. We did the plates. I gave him the keys. He drove it off the lot.”

“What's so bad about all that?”

“Sid came back from lunch and saw me organizing the file. He was furious, said he was going to complain to Mr. Abbot. He said I didn't know my place.”

“There's no need for that kind of talk,” said Florence.

“He sounds like a creep,” said Felicia.

“I just hope I can get another job here. I'll need a reference.”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Florence was indignant.

“That's true, Mom,” said Felicia. “Everything was going so well for us. Now everything stinks. Maybe we can move back to the city.”

“There's nothing else wrong, is there?”

Felicia cast a glance at her grandmother, who shook her head, but Delia noticed this exchange. “Tell me. Don't keep things from me. I don't like it.”

“Just a little girl trouble,” said Florence.

“What kind of girl trouble? Are you talking about those girls you've been chumming with?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Felicia hung her head, her throat tightening, “They don't like me anymore.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They won't look at me; they give each other looks, especially when I say something. They don't wait for me.” Felicia's explanation ended in tears.

“There, there, aren't they foolish,” said Florence.

Delia stood up and went to her daughter, hugged her tight. “They certainly are foolish. They're not worthy of your friendship.”

Felicia accepted a tissue from her grandmother and blew her nose. “I don't know why they're acting this way.”

“Maybe I should speak to their parents,” said Delia.

“No, Mom! Please don't.”

“They shouldn't be allowed to treat you like that.”

“You mean to help me, but you'd just make it worse.”

“I might make it better.”

Felicia sat up and straightened her back, stuck out her chin. “I can handle it.”

“Let her try,” suggested Florence.

“I don't know. For a day or two only. Then I'm getting involved.”

Felicia tried to hold on to her confidence. The next morning she dressed carefully for school, putting on the clothes that she liked and was comfortable in: jeans, her favorite long-sleeved tee, and a fleecy vest. Delia offered to drive her, and Felicia agreed. She would be spared the lonely bus ride. They pulled up in front of the school at 8:15.

“Kind of early, darling—do you mind?”

“No, it's okay. I can read or use the Internet in the library.”

“I want get to work and speak to Mr. Abbot before Sid gets there.”

“Good luck with all that.”

“You too. Don't forget, you deserve respect from everyone.”

“So do you, Mom.”

“I'll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“Okay.”

“And I'll want to hear how your day went.”

“Okay, Mom. See you tonight.”

Felicia went straight to the library, but instead of finding Mr. Allenby there, Ashley and Cynthia stood behind the main desk. Ashley looked up as Felicia came through the door, placed something in a drawer, and closed it. “Here's the artist.” Cynthia giggled.

“I'm just getting something to read.”

“Too much studying isn't good for you. Planning any more posters?”

Felicia started to browse bookshelves. “No.”

“Your friends were really impressed with your work, especially Sophie.”

“What?” But Felicia was talking to an empty room. The library door clicked shut.

She stood and stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering what those two were talking about. Was her poster the reason her friends weren't talking to her? The door opened again, and Mr. Allenby greeted her with a cheerful smile. “You're just the person I want to see.”

“I am?”

“Yes. Remember when we talked the other day and I told you I thought that escaped slaves had settled somewhere near here?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I was right. And there's a Black History Museum that documents the settlement near Collingwood. I told Miss Peabody about it, and she's keen to plan a field trip to visit it.”

“Cool.”

“And I've got another book for you. It's about quilts and how people used them to signal which houses along the Underground Railroad were safe.”

Felicia thanked the librarian and took the book with her. She started down the hall to class. As she passed the office, she and the principal almost collided. “Oops, sorry Mrs. Mackie.”

“That's all right. We were both in a rush. Were you coming by to admire your project?”

Felicia smiled as they both turned their attention to the glass case beside the office door. Felicia stared in shock at her poster, slid the glass back, and reached in to remove it, wanting to lift it away before the principal could see it. She wasn't quick enough.

“What on earth?” Mrs. Mackie touched Felicia's hand, stopping it in midair. They both stood and looked at her work. At the top of the family tree, where Felicia had sketched a small portrait representing herself, was a photo clipped from a magazine. It showed a chimpanzee wearing a pink dress, grinning widely, showing every one of its teeth.

CHAPTER 33

Flower

THE SOUND
of the owl came
quite clearly the following night, four hoots and then silence. Eldon and Cleo
were lying awake, but Flower struggled out of sleep, stood as the sack was tied
on her back. The family gathered at the bottom of the slippery steps and looked
down at the dark water.

Her father called quietly, “Hello. Anyone
there?”

No one answered, but a flat-bottomed boat appeared
below, and a hand reached up to assist Cleo with Gabriel, and then Flower, down
into the boat. Eldon came next, and the craft moved forward. The night was dark
and damp. Clouds scudded across the night sky, flying by the waning moon. Flower
shivered and leaned up against her mother for warmth. The man managing the boat
didn't speak. He sat on the middle plank, an oar in each hand. The boat lurched
with each sculling motion. As they headed up the river, it became a greater
struggle.

Eldon said, “I can sit beside you and take the
other oar. Two of us are better than one.”

“I guess. The wind is getting up, making it hard.”
He moved to one side, and Eldon slipped onto the seat beside him, picking up an
oar. They managed in this way for hours. Each time they stopped to catch their
breath, the boat moved back, briefly canceling their efforts.

Just as the darkness began to ebb, the boatman
said, “This is the place, and not too soon either.” The craft moved out of the
current and into a quiet cove. “Quick now, before you're seen.”

Eldon put down his oar, shook his companion's hand.
He stepped out into the shallows, assisted Cleo and the baby, and then carried
Flower to the shore. “He'll have an easier time going home,” said Eldon.

“Where are we?” asked Cleo.

They walked further into the bush, found a mossy
spot surrounded by greenery, and sat down. Cleo pulled out the last biscuit and
the remains of the fish. “We'll have a little of this and save some for later,”
she said.

“Maybe I can catch another,” said Flower. “Ned
showed me how.”

“That would be good.” Cleo gazed at the new
morning. “Such a sky.” The dawn light was a blaze of red, the glow reflecting on
their faces.

“Take warning,” said Eldon.

“What?”

“A proverb I heard once. ‘Red sky at night,
sailors' delight; red sky at morning, sailors take warning.'”

“That sounds scary, Pa.”

Eldon didn't acknowledge her fear. “I'll scout out
where we are and where we need to head next.”

“Let's stay together,” said Cleo.

“I'll return before you know it. You and Flower
should look for some more fruit.”

They had difficulty finding fruit-bearing bushes.
It was late in the season, and the birds and animals had taken their share. Cleo
and Flower picked what they could and waited for Eldon to return. The red sky
was transformed, now gun-metal gray; the wind set the bushes waving, sent leaves
twisting through the air, then scuffing along the ground at their feet. They
huddled together, Gabriel between them.

“Where's that pa of yours? It'll be raining
next.”

By the time he arrived back, they were all soaking
wet. Eldon led them to the shelter he had created. They lay beneath the slanted
branches on cedar boughs and slept fitfully. Travel that night was made
impossible by the relentless downpour. Thunder pounded around them, and shafts
of lightning blasted the night darkness away.

It rained all the next day, becoming lighter late
in the afternoon. “It's time we set out again,” said Eldon.

“Oh, my bones are weary.” Cleo stood and arched her
back before bending over and picking up her baby.

They continued their journey. Flower walked behind
her father, trying to match her steps with his. It was difficult—the rain had
created mud that sucked at their feet and stuck to their shoes, making them
heavy and harder to lift. The stones and tree roots were slippery obstacles,
causing them to slide and trip.

“Eldon, I must rest.” Cleo's voice was strained
with fatigue. They sank to the ground beneath a tree. Each took a turn drinking
water from their crock, and Cleo fed Gabriel. “Let's build us another
shelter.”

“All right, we'll stay for a bit, then try
again.”

“Are we lost?”

“No. We can still see the river. But it's better at
night when we can follow the North Star.”

“Too many clouds anyhow.”

They got to their feet and started once more.
Flower walked along, trying not to fall down. Her mind wandered to thoughts of
Samuel. She imagined him struggling in the same direction. He would be afraid
and alone. Maybe they would meet again and help each other. And Hettie—what
would she be doing right at this moment? It felt like mealtime. Probably they
were all sitting around the table, passing a basket of biscuits, spooning up
warm soup. Flower almost cried out with hunger. She wanted something to eat,
wished that her family was somewhere dry and safe, remembered the comfort of hay
beneath her in a barn warmed by the bodies of farm animals. When her father
stopped abruptly, she almost bumped into him.

“Is this the place?”

Eldon raised his hand for silence. They stood and
looked at a cultivated field that bordered the forest. Several cows and two
horses were grazing.

“The barn is red. Should it be red?”

“I don't recall being told that.”

“Can we sleep in that barn, Pa?”

“Maybe. I have to find out. Stay quiet here and
I'll scout.”

“Don't leave us.”

“I'll be right back.”