"What is so crazy about two friends showing their care for one another?"

"We is crazy 'cuz we is cryin' buckets over rings we can't never wear." She laughed harder. " 'Tain't a soul, white nor colored, would think I came by a piece o' fine jewelry in a right and honest way. Knowin' each other has changed you and me, but the other folks round here is the same, and as mean as they always been. You heard the talk downstairs about marauders and war. The world is more hateful every day."

I had been so caught up in the sentiment the rings represented it had not occurred to me they would likely bring d.a.m.nation as monumental as the mountains around us. Livie was right. She would be whipped without question. Or worse. Certainly Aunt Augusta would retrieve and dispose of any evidence with the potential of soiling my reputation, and hers by a.s.sociation. Yet Livie and I vowed we would not be parted from our precious keepsakes.

"I got an idea," Livie said, taking the strip of rawhide that had tied the pouch she had given me. She removed the ring from her finger and threaded the rawhide through it. With a look of pure satisfaction, she tied it around her neck, then dropped the ring inside the collar of her dress. "Out o' sight, but close at heart."

Following her lead, I went to the jewelry box on my night table and rummaged through its contents, pushing hairpins and brooches aside until I saw the glimmer of a simple gold necklace coiled in the corner. I lifted it out and let it dangle like a strand of hair in front of me.

"It was my mother's," I whispered reverently.

She took the necklace from me as I removed my ring. Once it was threaded, Livie hooked the clasp at the back of my neck. I held the ring entwined with my mother's necklace and was dizzied by a swirl of emotion. Livie loosened the first few b.u.t.tons of my nightgown, then took the ring and dropped it inside. I smiled at her as I watched how tenderly she handled both the ring and the necklace.

"Always close at heart," I whispered.

We crawled back into bed, drained from the highs and lows of the day. We curled and faced each other with heavy eyes. My last recollection was of Livie brushing her hand across her chest until her fingers found and outlined the ring beneath her clothes. I did the same, tucking away the worry of what would become of us for another day.

Chapter 18.

"Rise and dress, Hannalore." Aunt Augusta's curt voice tore through the peaceful slumber cradling me. She stood at the corner of my bed, waiting for me to sit up and obey. I glanced toward the empty spot next to me. Thankfully, Livie had slipped from my room before sunrise.

"The Runians are gathering in the front yard. I shall wait for you in the dining room."

I abided her request and was downstairs before she finished her morning tea. She peered at me over her cup as I entered the room, but said nothing until I curtsied and offered her Christmas wishes. She did not return the greeting, and although her demeanor was distant and distracted, she did not appear angry as she had been the previous night.

"You retired early last night. Our guests were concerned and thought you had taken ill. Colton was particularly dismayed."

"I apologize if my absence offended anyone. One of my dizzy spells came upon me, so I went to lie down in my room until it pa.s.sed. I must have fallen asleep."

" 'Scuse me, Miz 'Gusta," Winston said, stepping into the room. "We got de whole o' Mud Run outside. If you is ready, I'll start with de fiddlin'."

"Yes, you may begin, Winston. Hannah and I will join you once we hear the music."

"As you say." Winston nodded. "Happy Christmas, Miz Hannah."

"Happy Christmas." I smiled, pleased someone acknowledged me with holiday wishes. When Winston flashed his we got a secret we got a secret grin, I felt for the first time that he and I finally did share an unspoken truth after all these years. With all of Mud Run under his watchful eye, he was surely aware of my comings and goings during the past month. My instinct told me my secret was safe with him. grin, I felt for the first time that he and I finally did share an unspoken truth after all these years. With all of Mud Run under his watchful eye, he was surely aware of my comings and goings during the past month. My instinct told me my secret was safe with him.

Christmas morning unfolded as it always had, only this year it had more meaning for me with Livie's smiling face in the crowd. Coming from a neglectful master, she was taken aback by the armful of food, clothing, and shoes she walked away with. Still, she turned back to me and patted her chest where the ring dangled beneath her clothes and mouthed the words Happy Christmas Happy Christmas. Then she walked down the hill to the Runian festivities, and I returned to the hollow of the house.

"I have a gift for you, Aunt Augusta." I presented her the embroidered handkerchief I had sewn for her.

"Place the gift on the chair, child. I want to speak with you."

I set the handkerchief aside and went to where she stood studying the decorated tree. Among the burgundy ribbons and silver decorations was an unpretentious, handmade ornament. It was a delicately embroidered handkerchief that was fitted in an oval frame no larger than a pear. Across the center was a line of cross- st.i.tching that gave the appearance of a row of figures joined at the hands with a lone star above them, similar to the design of the household quilt patterns.

"Your mother gave me this ornament the year you were born."

My heart fluttered because she so rarely spoke of my mother. I a.s.sumed their relationship was not close because they were so different; however, a soft, yearning expression pained her face as she admired the ornament twirling slowly on the evergreen bough.

"Everything was plain and simple for her," she mused, drawing me into her reminiscence. "I envied her for it." As quickly as Aunt Augusta gave me the warm reflection, she s.n.a.t.c.hed it away. "It also made me fear for her. The world is not a plain and simple place. One wrong step, and a sea of consequence will crash down on you."

She was glaring at me now, waiting for a response. "Your uncle tells me he saw you frequenting Mud Run while I was away."

"I was only-"

"You have no business there, and I will not stand for improper behavior. You have grown too familiar with Livetta, and the repercussions resulting from an indiscretion of this nature are more far-reaching than a child's mind can grasp."

"Stop calling me a child. I am a grown woman, and your harsh words no longer frighten me."

She grabbed my shoulders roughly and shook me. "It is not me you need to fear. This is not a game. I cannot protect you outside these walls. Southern tradition and structure are under attack. Anyone who moves against public opinion will be viewed as a traitor. And punished as one as well."

"Livie was ill. I went to check on her, the same as you look in on the Runian women when they deliver a child. Did you ask Uncle Mooney how he came to see me that night?" I pushed her hands off me. "He was down there having his way with Fatima, and I walked in on him. So don't you ever preach to me about proper behavior."

Aunt Augusta was aghast, and I took great pleasure in delivering the blow.

"Mooney was in Mud Run?"

"Squealing like a pig in slop. And it was not his first visit to Fatima, poor thing. I cried for her too, and am not ashamed to admit it."

I turned and ran from the room, expecting Aunt Augusta to command me to stop, but no harsh words came. Although I won the battle, when I reached my room, I screamed against my pillow in frustration. It was all so hopeless. Near midday, there came a soft tap against the door.

"Hannah, are you there?" Colt's voice was low and soothing. "Augusta is visiting West Gate. Come down to the sitting room and talk with me."

When I opened the door, his smile coaxed me out of hiding. "That's my girl," he said, offering me his elbow. "I was concerned when you disappeared last night. I had your promise of the last dance, but you were nowhere to be found."

"Forgive me, Colt. I just could not bear another moment."

"Oh, thankfully there is nothing to forgive," he said as we reached the bottom of the staircase. He escorted me to the bench near the tree, where we sat side by side. "Genevieve Moffett was tracking me like a ba.s.set hound, so I took refuge in the kitchen with Granny Morgan. Now, if Genevieve had found me and claimed me for a dance, then forgiveness would be out of the question."

He nudged me until I smiled, and it felt good. My dear Colt. Even though I was certain Aunt Augusta had sent him to speak to me, I let my guard down enough to tease him back.

"I imagine the inconvenience of being sequestered in the kitchen was offset by the possibility of commandeering an extra piece of Granny's apple cobbler."

"Sweet Hannah," Colt laughed. "You know me well."

"I know you well enough to suspect you would not knock on my chamber door without approval from Aunt Augusta."

"Her distress is not without cause. I warned you from the beginning that you had to be careful with regard to Livetta. It is a delicate matter, now more than ever. You must act with your head instead of your heart."

"I should have known you would side with Aunt Augusta," I said, dripping with disappointment.

"We are not on opposite sides. These are dangerous times, and my warning is meant to protect you from harm. And protect Livetta as well. I feel an attachment to her just as you do. However, you cannot let your feelings go too far."

Colt's plea was genuine and serious. "I have been away a long time and can sense the shifting undercurrents throughout Virginia. Promise me, Hannah. Promise me you will practice better judgment, or the consequence will endanger you and those around you."

I nodded, as much to encourage a change of subject as to appease him. It was apparent by his unruffled mood that Colt had not been told of his father's a.s.sault on Fatima. Just as well. I did not want Colt hurt or shamed by his father's indiscretions. We lightened our conversation with holiday gaiety and exchanged gifts. He presented me with an ivory comb for my hair, while I gave him a silk neckerchief ordered from a catalog in the mercantile.

"When will you return to Richmond?"

"Father has plans for me here." Colt shrugged as he absentmindedly unfolded and refolded a corner of the neckerchief on his lap.

"What about your apprenticeship with Dr. LaValle?"

"What is the use, Hannah? Each time I return home, it is as if I never left. The expectations remain the same. I am tired of fighting my father."

"Have you lost your love for medicine?"

"Not at all," he said, lighting up. "When I use my hands for healing, I feel alive with divine purpose. I wake up before dawn because I cannot wait to begin a new day."

I smiled and put my hand over his. "Tell me, Colt. Would you wear a pair of trail boots that did not fit you?" Colt looked at me, perplexed by my interest in his footwear, but there was a point to my question. "How could you face the day knowing the first thing you had to do every morning is force those big ol' feet into boots not fitted for you? Each and every step you take will be pained by the pinch of those confining boots. It will not matter whether you are working or dancing or strolling in a field of clover; the ache will continue until the sun sets over the ridge and you can slip those miserable boots off your suffering feet. Now, you can continue to shove those boots under the bed and dread the morning, or you can go out and be fitted with a new pair better suited for you."

Colt's eyes grew misty as he recognized himself in my words. He lowered his head. "What are you saying, Hannah?"

"Sometimes, deep in our hearts, we know the life we are walking in doesn't fit. You, and you alone, know if your life fits you, Colt. If it doesn't, you owe it to yourself to slip it off and try on another one."

Colt forced a heavy-hearted smile. "And here I was hoping you would be thrilled at the prospect of me staying here in the Ridge, closer to you. Instead you are encouraging me to go."

"My feelings for you are deep and precious," I said, stroking his cheek. "What I want more than anything is for you to follow your heart. You deserve happiness, Colt."

By the end of the following week, the Yule log had burned to ash. While the turn of the New Year marked the buying and selling of slaves on most plantations, Hillcrest slipped into the quiet routine of winter. The male Runians cut wood and mended fences, while the women were hard at work spinning and weaving. Most of our quilting would be completed during the cold months ahead, so I spent the days sorting through our supplies. With Uncle Mooney and Twitch on their annual trek to the slave auctions in Roanoke, Livie spent the day with James as he worked in the blacksmith shop. Colt appeased his father without compromising his own desire to practice medicine. Instead of traveling all the way to Richmond, he arranged to work with Dr. Waverly in Lows Hollow. The small town of Lows Hollow was less than a half day's ride from Echo Ridge, so Colt could be called home if needed. This satisfied Uncle Mooney and gave Colt his freedom, but with restriction. I wished him a safe journey and warm, comfortable feet, which made him laugh in spite of his hesitation to bid me farewell.

As I carried rolls of batting to the racks, I heard the back door slam and someone running down the hallway. The look on Livie's face when she burst into the room was frantic.

"How could you do it?" she bellowed at fever pitch.

"What is it, Livie? What's wrong?"

"You told me you didn't sell off yo' slaves. You told me this weren't like other plantations where slaves is bought and sold with no mind to kin and such."

The first thought that came to mind was a conversation I had overheard between Mr. Henderson and Uncle Mooney on Christmas Eve. Mr. Henderson had obvious interest in buying James, but Uncle Mooney insisted he would only hire James out temporarily and at prime wage. I was sickened by the thought, but was aware the business of West Gate was separate and independent from that at Hillcrest.

I went to comfort Livie. "We do not barter away our slaves, but Uncle Mooney-"

"Then why did you sell her? She weren't causin' no trouble."

"Livie, who was sold? Pray tell me, who you are talking about?"

"Fatima!" Livie pushed my hands away and sprayed angry tears. "Winston says she was sent to auction. I believed your tall tales, but your words ain't true. You didn't protect Fatima-you cast her out!" Livie was inconsolable, but I was as stunned as she. As long as I lived at Hillcrest, I had never known a slave to be traded or sold. Having shared a cabin with Fatima, Livie was. .h.i.t hard. Her pain was compounded by the shock and uncertainty of a broken promise.

I held my hands over my heart as a pledge. "I swear, Livie, I had no idea."

"I hate you white folk. You is mean and heartless and will burn in h.e.l.l!"

Livie burst into another round of tears and took off through the house. The kitchen door slammed shut before I could move or recover from her words. I was too shaken to cry. The door of the study opened and Aunt Augusta emerged. "What is all the yelling and commotion about? I am calculating figures from our tobacco sales and cannot have my concentration disrupted."

"Why did you sell Fatima?" I snapped.

"Oh," was Aunt Augusta's only response.

"Is this my punishment to placate Uncle Mooney?"

"What's done is done," she said, as if it was a valid explanation. "It's for the best."

"You must always have the final say, even when you are wrong," I shouted, not caring who heard me. "I hate you!"

I ran out the front door after Livie. I cared not about the threat I was courting. The depth of Livie's hurt was all that mattered. Outside, a frigid wind howled across the empty yard. I looked in every direction, but Livie was gone.

Chapter 19.

An entire day pa.s.sed with no sign of Livie. When she did not come to the house the following morning, I grew sick with worry, thinking she may have run away. Livie was frightened as much as she was angry-a combination ripe for disastrous decisions. Fear gripped me as well. My heart told me to comb every inch of Mud Run until I found her, but with Aunt Augusta keeping a closer eye on my behavior, I had to be cautious in my movement. Even in my fury over Fatima's fate, I knew antagonizing Aunt Augusta any further would be a grave mistake.

"Elijah, I need you to do something for me," I said, stepping outside the pantry door where he was stacking split logs for Granny Morgan. His woolen jacket was b.u.t.toned tight and his cap scrunched down over his brow. Still, his chin shivered when he smiled up at me.

"You want me to go a-poundin' on Livetta's door again, Miz Hannah?"

I pulled my shawl around my shoulders and took his hand. "I want you to tug me toward Mud Run, as if showing me something of importance."

"Like a copperhead snake or a fire that jumped a burning pit?"

"I suppose a small brush fire would require immediate attention," I said, piecing together the plan on a whim. "I just need reason to enter Mud Run."

"Why not jes' walk on down the hill?"

Even with panic jumbling my thoughts, I had to smile at his innocence. "If you play along with me, I would consider it a great favor."

Elijah was happy to oblige me. Much like his father, he considered a private errand for the mistress an honored responsibility. Once in Mud Run, I released him from his duty and he scampered on his way, not the least bit curious about my motive. When I entered Livie's cabin, a brisk wind whistled through the cold room, haunting me with its emptiness.

"Where are you, Livie?" I mumbled anxiously as I sat down on her bed. I guess I had held out hope that I would find her here, sulking in the corner. The sting of Livie's parting words left me wounded. However, I trusted our friendship enough to believe they were not meant for me. I would not fault her for spewing frustrations brought on by injustice. Still, I was concerned Livie would do something foolish as a result of thinking she had hurt me. When I leaned against the cornhusk sack that served as her pillow, I felt something hard beneath it.

"Your mother's Bible," I gasped with relief. "You would never leave this behind! You cannot have gone far."

"What's that you say, Miz Hannah?" Winston stepped inside the door, clearly alarmed at finding me there. "Who is you talkin' to?"