Merry Christmas!
I’m honored to publish this short piece of historical fiction in honor of the Christmas holidays. Enjoy!
Christmas Freedom
By Mary G. Lane (12)
Nell turned over on the straw mat, trying to stay awake. Finally, she stood up, pacing quietly around the cabin so she would not wake Martha or Esther. She said a silent prayer that the weight of two sleeping children, a pack, and an unborn baby would not be too much for her.
If Robert were here, Nell thought sadly, He would take the kids and the load, and the third one if he could. Every day of her lonely life Nell wished Robert were there. But he would never come back after being sold further down South. As slaves, both husband and wife had been powerless to stop it. Now, she was going to be sold away from her babies. But this time they would all escape by train first.
At long last, Nell heard a low knock at her door. A strong-looking woman entered the cabin. “Ready? Good. Dark coat? Good. I’m Harriet, and I’m here to lead you to freedom. Let’s go.”
It was a strange reception, but Nell got used to Harriet as she and her children went on. Two more travelers joined them, an old man called Moses and a fifteen-year-old girl named Betty. Betty, who had been a nursemaid in a big house, was handy with the children. Harriet was even handier, but one night she gave everybody a good scare.
They were walking in the woods when one-year-old Esther began to howl. No one could silence her. Suddenly, Harriet took a handkerchief and a bottle out of her valise, put a drop from the bottle on it and held it to the baby’s nose. After a few seconds, Esther was quiet.
“You bespelled my baby! You bespelled my child, you witch!” Nell exclaimed, trying not to scream.
“I didn’t bespell her, she’ll be just fine.” Harriet told her soothingly. “I just gave her a sleepin’ potion o’ sorts to keep her shushed up. That way the bounty hunters are less likely to hear us.”
Still, Nell was silently frantic until her baby woke up unharmed. From then on Harriet would use the sleeping handkerchief whenever one of Nell’s daughters got too noisy. Harriet would know a lot about sleep, the way she drops off of a sudden. Nell reasoned. That was another one of Harriet’s strange habits, falling asleep suddenly. She told of strange dreams she had during these short naps. Often the fugitives were guided by her “visions,’’ as she called them.
And so, Harriet brought them from safe house to safe house, each one a stop on the Underground Railroad. There were many close calls, like the time Moses had to hide in an outhouse so the bounty hunters would not find him. “That place stank wors’n a skunk!” he told the rest of the group once it was safe to come out.
All this time Nell’s front was getting broader and broader with the baby inside, till at last she was so big that she could scarcely walk. It was hard for anybody to keep up with Harriet, much less for a heavily pregnant woman. But one day it was finally the last day before they got to freedom country.
That day was Christmas Eve, and it was a nightmare for Nell.
Martha woke up feverish and had to be carried. It was not a hard trail that they walked that day, but it felt like the roughest journey the poor mother had ever taken. With the extra weight of her three-year-old, it was a great struggle for Nell just to place one foot in front of the other. Finally, she collapsed on the side of the road and said, “I can’t go on no more. Keep goin’ without me.’’
“There’s a safe house in less’n a mile. We can stop and rest there.” Harriet told her, and half-dragged her along. Nell was cold and numb, but she still felt the feathery touch of snowflakes on her face. Soon, the snow was falling so fast that they could barely see.
“I think I see a barn!” Betty shouted over the sound of the wind. “Follow the sound of my voice!”
They all stumbled toward the red barn, Moses carrying the little ones. Nell felt a familiar sensation running through her body. She braced herself unconsciously for the next contraction. “Betty, Harriet,” she managed, “It’s time.’’ Harriet somehow carried her to the barn. She was inside at last.
All of a sudden, an older white woman was there. Rolling up their sleeves, Harriet and the strange woman tended to Nell. Betty held Nell’s sweaty hand. One last great heave, and the stranger caught the baby.
The child was a little boy who looked just like Robert. He wept in Nell’s arms and she comforted him. He cooed and gurgled and she held him close. Then Harriet spoke to her. “You’re in the North.’’
“My boy is a free person! Born free!” Nell sighed blissfully. This was why she had escaped, and she was content. She laid her son in the feedbox full of hay in honor of that other Nativity. Then Moses began to sing, and all the rest joined in:
“Go tell it on the mountain,
Over the hills and ever’ywhere,
Go tell it on the mountain,
That Jesus Christ is born!”
THE END
What a beautiful story!! Mary G. Lane has the makings of a professional writer!!
This is a beautiful story! Miss Lane is a wonderful historical fiction author, and I'm sure her talents will only be developed further from here.