I could barely see anymore.  I could hardly feel.  I had long since given up hope that anyone would come for me.  Hearing tires on the gravel outside did nothing to excite me.  There was no point.

Then, one day, an amazing thing happened.  I heard the tire on the gravel.  It stopped outside my door.  A flicker of hope ignited.  I tried not to get too excited, but then I heard something jingling on the door.  There was a click of the lock.  Then there was the blinding sun.  Oh how it hurt my silver and ignited the being inside me!

Since I don’t have pupils like a human, my eyes didn’t need to adjust to the sunlight, and I was able to watch as a stout woman walked through the narrow passages of belongings. 

I had no idea who she was.  She wasn’t part of the family that I knew.

She had curly red hair that hung halfway down her back.  Her eyes seemed observant.  She walked slowly, almost reverently, reaching out to gently touch a few items with just a brush of her fingertips.  She never picked anything up.

Then she whispered, “Oh, Aunt Betty.  What on earth did you leave me?”

She walked behind the stack of boxes on me so I couldn’t see her. 

Suddenly, the boxes on my table rose into the air and there she was!  She saw herself in me and sort of cocked her head to the side.  She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, then ran her hand over my table.  Her touch was gentle. 

She scooted some boxes away with her foot and opened one of my drawers.  She pulled out a book, which I quickly realized was Dear Elizabeth’s family Bible.  My silver quacked with joyful excitement. 

The woman flipped through the Bible, a small smile on her face.  She lingered on some pages longer than others.

“This will help in my genealogy work,” she said to herself.  Because, of course, she had no idea that I could understand her.

She set the Bible on me and peered deeper into the drawer.  This time, she pulled out Carrie’s journal.  She skimmed through parts, then I watched her eyes grow wide. 

“There was an affair in our family?” 

She lost herself for almost an hour, reading about Carrie’s relationships with Jacob and Abraham.  She read about the emotional turmoil Carrie had battled.

Finally, she put the journal down and pulled something out of her pocket.  She flipped it open and did something strange with her thumbs.  I had never seen anything like it before. 

“Okay,” she said, flipping the thing back closed with a pop and sliding it back into her pocket, “Ray will be here soon to pick you…  What else should we take?”

Who’s Ray? I wondered. 

I got my answer a little while later when a man pulled up in a pickup truck and stepped out.  I hadn’t thought to look at the woman’s hand, but I glanced at his.  Yep.  There was a wedding band.

“Hey, Lisa, I’m here.”

“Ray!  I’m in the back.”

Ray walked past me and gave Lisa – the woman with the red hair – a quick kiss on the cheek.  Lisa pointed to me and a few of the boxes she had gone through while waiting for him. 

He walked over to me and gave me a look over.  “Whew.  This will be a challenge.”

Ray wiggled me out of my spot and outside.  He paused to catch this breath, then called for Lisa. “Remember, do not lift it,” he said, giving her a look.

He hoisted up one end of me while Lisa supported the other end, then they traded places.  Ray carefully helped her into the bed of the truck before jumping down.  Then Lisa slid me back while Ray lifted my other end up.  Lisa worked on securing me to the truck while Ray went to get a few boxes.

They loaded up the rest of the boxes Lisa wanted, then Ray slammed the tailgate shut. 

“Are you sure you don’t want more time to go through the rest of the stuff in there before the yard sale?”

Lisa didn’t even glance at the storage shed as she said, “Nah.  I’m good.  I’m pretty sure this is the vanity my great-great-something grandfather made for my great-great-something grandmother, and I found a family Bible and a journal – which wow, just wait until I tell you what I found out! – and that’s all gold.”

“If you’re good, I’m good.  You want to put this vanity in the baby’s room when she comes?”

“YES!  Ray, you’re a genius!  It would be perfect.  Aunt Betty would have loved that.”

I heard their kiss, then Ray climbed into the truck and I heard Lisa walk to her car. 

I felt the truck rumble to a start and start to drive away to my new home. 

I was wanted.

I was loved.

I was more than a piece of furniture – I was a piece of a family legacy that would continue on.

Josephine and William had a quiet, happy life.  Judging by the furniture in their bedroom, they didn’t have much, but they had enough.  I loved watching them whisper together as they fell asleep at night, often giggling quietly. 

It felt right to be part of this house, even if Josephine didn’t stare into me as much as most of her ancestors had.  I didn’t feel unwanted, I felt needed.  I liked the peace and love that filled the house and settled in my wood.  I liked that Josephine didn’t glare into me, but instead used me to beautify herself to surprise William. 

One of those times she surprised William, she had a bigger surprise than just a nice dress and makeup.  Months later, baby James was born.  Then came the twins, Sandra and Evon.  And last came baby Marshall.  With each child, the love just grew and grew inside that little house. 

Yes, things were going well.

Then one night, there wasn’t the usual smiles and giggling under the covers.

“Darling,” William said, “I really think I should join.”

“No, dear William!” Josephine gasped, “You’re too old.  Think of me!  Think of the children!  What will we do without you here?  What would we do if you di… if you didn’t come back?”

“I’ll come back, Darling,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes.  “I promise I’ll come back.”

“You can’t make a promise like that!” Josephine whispered harshly, tears rolling down her cheeks.  “You have no idea what will happen on the front!”

“You don’t know I’ll be sent to the front.  Besides, we have far superior weapons to the Germans and the rest.  This war will be over in no time.  I feel like it’s my American duty to help it move along faster.”

“Curses to your duty,” Josephine spat, with more vehemence than I had ever heard from her before.  “You have a duty to your family, as well.  Please think about us!”

“Oh, Darling,” William said, with an expression of utter sadness, “that’s all I think about.  I want to protect you and keep you safe more than anything.  If we strike the Germans first, then they can’t come attack you.  Jo, listen.  My conscious will not be quiet on this.  I have to enlist.”

Josephine couldn’t respond.  She just clutched his shirt with two white-knuckled fists, buried her face into his chest, and wept bitterly.  He held her as long as she cried, gently rubbing her back.  He remained silent.  A few tears of his own slipped out.

Within the week, William had left.  From what I could gather, there was a ‘great war,’ and much of the modern world was fighting in it.  I began to hear Josephine mutter words like, “rations” and “duty” more often. 

Although she had rarely bought new clothes before William left, after he left, she quit buying new clothes altogether.  She still put on makeup, but just the minimum.  Her cheeks started to grow hollow. 

She put on a brave face for the children.  They obviously missed their father, but their upbeat spirits were probably the only thing keeping Josephine going on some days. 

The letters from William also kept her going.  Anytime she received a letter from any place that she thought was the army, she rushed into the bedroom and shut the door, terrified to receive the news she dreaded. 

The letters were almost always from William, with updates and forced cheerfulness.  He always told the truth, so she knew how hungry and cold he was.  His shoes were wearing out and often in the winter his feet were numb.  Some of his comrades had developed frostbite.  But always at the end of the letter, he would say, “Each day brings us closer to the end of this horrendous war, to victory!  Stay strong, my dear.  I will be home soon.  All my love, William.”

One day, the letter from William was short.  Josephine read it, gasped, and got a strange expression on her face.  She dropped the letter where I could read it and sat staring at me.  She sat starting, but not seeing. 

Since she wasn’t paying attention to me anyway, I read:

“Dearest Jo,

As you read this, keep in mind that I am writing you, so I am very much alive and able to think clearly.  Our troop was ambushed recently and I was injured in the battle.  When I am recovered enough to travel, they are sending me home.  I will look different, but I am still the same William that you know and love.

I miss you so much, dear one.  I am so excited to see you and the children again.  Warn them that I look different.

William.”

I watched Carrie change in the weeks after her affair.  She became quieter and more reserved, even to me.  She used to confide in me, but she got to the point where she would just stare into my glass with an empty sadness.

She also tried to flirt with her husband more, but he had grown colder and more aloof.  He hadn’t wanted to be with her in several months.

Then one day, she walked into the room and set a leather-bound book on my vanity.  She walked back out of the room, but quickly came back with an ink well and pen.  She sat down in front of me and slowly opened the book.  To my surprise, it was blank!  What new kind of human weirdness was this?  Had they learned to read without words?

Carrie took a deep breath, dipped her pen into the ink well, then methodically wrote the words: “I’m pregnant.”

I did the mental math for myself and came to a horrible realization.

I watched as she continued to write:

“I’m pregnant and there’s no way the baby’s Jacob’s.  I’m terrified that he will find out – even as I write these words, I’m terrified he will find them.  He can be so angry, so violent, when someone goes against his ways, and this is far worse than disagreeing on opinion.  I knew this was wrong, and I did it anyway.

“Jacob will not lay with me,” she continued, “so I am unsure of how to make him think the baby is his.  I do not want to start a life of lies to cover my transgression, but I fear I must do something to protect the baby inside of me.

“Oh how I wish I had never gone to see Abraham!  I did not even know him as well as I thought.  And now I must carry the guilt of my actions, and continue to transgress into lies and deceit to try to hide them. 

“I now understand David’s lament in Psalm 51: ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.’

“My heart does cry out to the Lord!  Forgive me!  Protect me and the child I am bearing in sin!”

Carrie’s head jerked up quickly.  She looked toward the closed door, then opened a drawer and slid the book without words inside.  There was a sheet of paper on the vanity, and she began to write: “Dearest Mother…”

Jacob came into the bedroom.  “What are you doing in here?”

“I am composing a letter to Mother,” Carrie said, looking up at him.

Jacob peered over her shoulder.  “It has taken you some time to write, ‘Dearest Mother.’”

Carried sighed.  I could not tell if it was a guilty sigh or performed as an act.  “Yes, I have spent much time trying to figure out what to say. Not much has changed with us.  It is time to plow, but they know that.  I feel like it is my daughterly duty to write, but I am unsure of what to say!”

“Hm.”  Jacob looked rather dubious.  “Well, one of the servants had a question about dinner for you.  Go and assist her, then maybe you can find some intelligence to write a decent letter to your mother.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, quickly standing and walking out of the room. 

Jacob looked at the top of the vanity.  He seemed to be thinking.  I wondered if he was going to start looking through the drawers, but instead he turned and followed his wife out of the room.

Carrie returned about half an hour later and finished writing both the letter to her mother and in the blank book.  The letter she placed in an envelope, the book she placed back in the drawer.

Carrie began to write in the book regularly.  She never let Jacob see it, and he never had reason to look for it.

To Carrie’s strained relief, Jacob did lie with her a few weeks later, and she did not begin to show for a several more months.  To the outside world, everything seemed normal.  Inside Carrie’s mind and journal, however, there was a strong tempest that raged with guilt, fear, and sadness. 

Dark emotions flowed out of Carrie through both her tears and her pen.  Jacob blamed it on the pregnancy.  How little did he knew how both very right and very wrong he was!

During her pregnancy, Jacob treated his wife with much more love and tenderness than he had ever showed her before.  I had hope for them, and even Carrie began to let her guard down and smile around him again.  It was so good to see her smile.

At night, Jacob would talk about all the things he would do with his son.  The things he would teach him.  The plantation and legacy he would leave.  The wealth he hoped to leave.  Their son would have everything.

Carrie asked what he would do if the baby was a girl.

“It will be a boy,” Jacob said, with a smile and a certain arrogance.

Then in late summer, the baby was born.  Everyone thought the baby was coming too early, and pretended to be concerned. She and I both knew better.

The room was full of hustle and bustle, women running in and out, carrying hot water for the pregnancy, cold water for the mother’s head.  There was the usual screaming that accompanied the birth of a child – mostly from the mother and then, the baby.

The room grew hushed.  Carrie began to cry.  The women assisting her continued to tend to her and the baby, but concerned looks were passed between themselves as they went.  I was afraid something was wrong with the baby, but everything I could see and hear seemed the same as previous pregnancies I had seen.

Then a blanket slipped and I saw the reason for the concern.

It was a girl.

Somehow, Zechariah, Sarah, and Carrie all survived.  There were a few workers who stuck around.  Zechariah wasn’t able to pay them, but he agreed that if they stayed to help, they would get a share as they started to make a profit later.  Since he had taken such good care of them before, and since they didn’t know where else to go, they agreed. 

I saw a lot less of them in the bedroom, though.  Sarah made her own bed.  She got herself ready in the morning.  She tended to Carrie alone.  Zechariah was always around, but he was never exactly there, either.

I watched Carrie grow up.  Zechariah’s distance affected her.  She’d come bounding into the bedroom to find him sitting in a chair, staring absently out the window.  She’d ask if he liked her dress or if he wanted to dance, and he’d just grunt and wave his hand dismissively.  Carrie would always walk out with a crestfallen face.  It made me wish that I could move my wooden legs and dance with her, but I knew even that would never replace a father’s love. Who would Carrie have to dance with?

Her mother would tell her stories about how things were supposed to be.

I never knew what those stories were supposed to accomplish.  The ‘way things were supposed to be’ were no longer a possibility.  It was filling the girl’s head with false hopes and dreams.  Sure, I wanted Carrie to hope for a better future, but it would take an uphill battle to get there.  The dances, the pretty dresses, the horses to ride leisurely were a distant dream.

Sarah made it sound like Carrie was owed these things.

When Carrie was a young lady, I wasn’t surprised when I found out that she was falling for an older man.

“He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about in a husband,” she confided to Sarah one night, as they sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed.

“But does he love you?”

“He says he does.  He says I’m beautiful and that he wants his babies to look just like me.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He’s a planation owner, just like us.  Except it was a smaller plantation, so the Yanks somehow missed it and didn’t cover it salt.  So he’s doing well for himself.  I could finally afford all those pretty dresses for you and me!”

Sarah smiled.  “You deserve so much goodness.  But you shouldn’t marry for money.”

“Mama,” Carrie smiled back, her smile patient but strained, “it’s not like men are fighting for my hand in marriage.  I don’t hate him, so I’m sure I can learn to love him.  He has money.  He can take care of us.”

Sarah was quiet for a while.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted for me, Mama,” Carrie said.  “You wanted me to have a fairy tale ending, with love and money and everything.  This is the next best thing.”

“If you are sure this is what you want, Carrie, then you have my blessing.  I have heard of his family and it is a strong line.  You would do well to marry into it.”

Carrie smiled, a full smile this time.  “Thank you, Mama.”

“There is just one thing,” Sarah said.  Carrie’s smile deflated.

Sarah rose and walked over to me.  She ran her hand gently over my top. 

“Your grandfather Jed built this dresser for your grandmother.  He took so much care in crafting it.  He gave it to your father when we were wed, and now I want to give it to you as a wedding present.  It was such a comfort for me to have such an elegant piece when we had nothing.  I hope it’s a reminder to you of your family’s love and legacy.”

“Oh, Mama!” Carrie said with a gasp, “You want me to take your dresser?  Can you afford another one?”

“If there is anything that life has taught me, it’s that we can always make do with less than what we think.  I want you to have something special.  Something of your family’s.  This is the best physical object I can give you.”

Sarah then walked over to her daughter and embraced her.  “But know that the love I give you is even stronger than this dresser.”

Carrie clung to her mother.  “Yes, Mama.  I know.”

For a few months, Zechariah and Sarah seemed to get along better.  They celebrated Christmas together in the big house.  I got to watch them sneak into the room and wrap presents for each other beforehand.  They seemed giddy.

Zechariah seemed to be taking to the new job well.  Sarah loved the house and having something called “slaves.”  The closest I could figure, they were talking about the people with darker skin, but something didn’t seem to connect in my alloy about the tone in Sarah’s voice and the way she talked about people.

For their part, the people with dark skin were a fascinating bunch.  They spoke in a thick accent, and would always come into Zechariah and Sarah’s room when they weren’t in there.  This was a new concept to me, and at first, I watched them carefully to make sure they didn’t steal anything – not that I could have stopped them if they had tried – but they never did.  Instead, they would make the bed, changing the sheets periodically, gather dirty clothes, and clean the room.  If needed, they would stoke the fire and clean out the ashes.

They always talked about “how nice the new mastah” was.  I had no idea what they were talking about.

Stress lines around Zechariah’s face seemed to deepen.  I longed to ask him what was wrong, and wished desperately that Sarah would.  It took her months before she noticed, and she only noticed when she was talking about baby names and she realized he wasn’t listening.

“Zechariah!  Are you paying any attention?”

“What?  I’m sorry Sarah.  What were you talking about?”

“I was talking about your child.  I would think that would be of some importance to you.”

“Of course it is,” he snapped, “I just have a lot else on my mind.  But what is so important you’re going to come onto me about it?”

“What should we name the baby if it’s a girl?”

“Names?”  Zechariah shot up in bed, the covers flying off his shoulders to land in his lap.  “You’re going to yell at me about baby names when that time is a few months off yet?  Don’t you know that there’s a war about to start?  A war that could take away our entire way of living in this new life?  We could be right back where we started with nothing, and you are worried about a name.”

Sarah scoffed.  “There won’t be a war.  People are blowing things out of proportion.” 

Zechariah paused.  His voice softened.  “South Caroline succeeded from the country just before Christmas.  Other states plan to follow.”

Sarah became silent, her eyes wide.  “Why are they leaving us?”

“President Lincoln wants to abolish slavery.  Many southern states rely on slavery to grow their crops – just like we do.  Though I don’t think paying the people a wage would completely destroy us like many plantation owners fear.  Of course, you and I are used to living on a lot less than they are, too.  We could take a dip in profit okay.”

“A dip in profit?  I don’t want to make less money.”

 “It’s not that we’d be making less, we would just be paying the slaves to work for us.  If President Lincoln has his way, then we would no longer be able to own slaves.”

“Then who would work for us?”

“The same people could.  We would just pay them like an employee instead of owning them.”

“But that would cost a lot of money.”  Sarah pouted.  “Why does President Lincoln want to take our way of life away from us?”

Zechariah’s eyes narrowed.  “Sarah, we would not lose our new way of life.  And if we did, we would still be better off than we were before, right?”

“But think of the baby!  Think of the life we can give him or her now.  Do you want to lose that?”

Zechariah’s body stiffened.  “What do you think I’m thinking about?” he demanded.  “It’s all I ever think about is how to take care of you and the baby.  It’s how to keep this plantation going as my family trusts me to – Aunt Carrie has completely stepped away and doesn’t care to know what’s going on anymore on the business end.  I have so much to think about, and all you care about it the name of a baby that’s several months from coming.  Excuse me for being lost in my thoughts.”

Sarah seemed to shrink as he spoke.  They were both quiet for a while after he stopped.  He lay back down.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.  “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“I understand,” she said, “and I forgive you.”

They hugged under the covers and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

War did come.  Virginia succeeded from the United States while Sarah was very large with child.

Zechariah went off to fight in the Confederate army to protect his home and family.  From the discussions – arguments, really – he and Sarah had, it was clear that he wouldn’t mind paying his slaves, but he had to do what he could to protect his family from the Union army.  As much as he wanted to be home for the baby’s birth, he wanted to help get the war over with quickly so things could return to normal.

The war was not over quickly.

Things did not go back to normal.

Sarah had her baby a few weeks after Zechariah left.  A girl.  Sarah named her Carrie, after Zechariah’s aunt who had provided such a nice home for them.

Confederate soldiers invaded the plantation.  I saw them come.  I saw them eye Sarah lustfully, as she cowered with Carrie in her arms in the corner of the room.

“Leave her.  She has a baby.”

I would have sacrificed my glass to bust over their heads at their pitiful behavior.  How could humans do such things to each other?

My mortification only increased when I heard that they stole all the food from the house, shoes, warm clothes and blankets, and then – the worst of all – plowed salt into the fields.  When Zechariah returned, he would not be able to grow crops for many years and much hard work.

If he returned.

In the summer of 1862, Sarah received a letter from a commanding officer, saying that Zechariah had been severely injured in one of General Stonewall Jackson’s campaigns.  He had been part of a small group that engaged Union forces in Kernstown, Virginia.  The Confederate army had been misinformed that the Union army there was half that size that it actually was.  Zechariah had to pay the price.  The Confederate Army retreated.  Fortunately, the Union Army had not pursued them, so after the battle, they were able to help Zechariah off the field. 

All Sarah knew was that her husband was alive, but severely injured.  He would be coming home as soon as he was well enough to travel.

Things were more difficult when Zechariah got home than when he had left.  He had been shot in his right leg, and ended up having to have his leg amputated from the knee down.  He walked with a crutch and was very bitter.

He considered himself a cripple.

His land was wasted.

Most of his slaves had run off – more would run off after President Lincoln signed something called the Emancipation Proclamation.  All I understood from what Zechariah read to Sarah was that all slaves were now considered free.  He could not work to get his fields able to sustain new growth in his state, and most of his help was gone. 

He did seem to rely on Sarah more, though.  I watched Sarah grow in strength and understanding.  She aged quickly, but she held on.  I was proud of her for the challenges she faced and strove to overcome.

Sarah wanted more children, but Zechariah was unable to provide them for her.  Although she tried to hide it, I saw the many tears she cried.

They grew thin from lack of food.

They often shivered together in front of the fireplace, trying to stay warm.

It would have been hard for things to get much worse for Zechariah’s family as they struggled through to survive the end of what was to be called the Civil War.

The fights between Zechariah and Sarah became more frequent.  Then one day, Sarah pulled Zechariah into the bedroom and set him on the side of the bed.  She knelt down in front of him, leaning gently into his legs.  She grabbed his hands with both of hers and pressed them to her lips.

Zechariah looked dumb struck, and I felt that way, too.  What was Sarah about to say?

“Zechariah, I’m pregnant.”

To his credit, he moved his mouth to try to say something, but no sound came out for a while.  Finally, he said, “Sarah, my darling!  That’s wonderful!”

“Are you truly happy?”

Zechariah slid off the bed to kneel beside his wife.  It was his turn to kiss her hands.  “Yes, Sarah.  I’m very happy.  However, I have some news to share, too, and this has made it a little more difficult.”  He paused, and Sarah’s eyes grew a little wide. 

“My mother’s brother has a plantation in Virginia.  He has taken ill and is not expected to recover.  I have been asked to move there as soon as possible to begin to learn the trade from him while he’s alive, then take over operations after he passes.  My aunt will remain the owner, but they have no children, so we will inherit everything when she passes.”

“We get to live in a big plantation house?”  Sarah’s eyes shone. 

“Yes, my love.”

“You’ve been given a good job?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy about it all?”

“Yes, I think so.  …Are you?”

“Oh yes, Zechariah.  Yes!”  She threw her arms around his neck and they sat there like that for several long minutes, though it probably did not feel long to them. 

I hoped that this would be a turning point in their relationship, and that they would be much happier going forward. 

They began the process of moving the very next day.  Sarah started packing while Zechariah began making sure they had a reliable team of horses or mules to get them all the way to Virginia.  I could never figure out which they decided on, but they argued about that for several nights, and Zechariah said time and time again that his aunt was sending them money on the stage. 

Sarah started to get tired more frequently.  She’d come in often and fall asleep on the bed, sometimes without taking her shoes off first. 

But at last, the day came!  Swarms of people were in and out of the house to help load all of Zechariah and Sarah’s things into a wagon. 

I had not been loaded yet when Sarah told Dear Elizabeth that she was pregnant.  They were in the bedroom, unmaking the bed and folding the quilts.  Dear Elizabeth dropped the bedding in her arms, her hands flew to her mouth with a little shriek.  Her eyes danced as she rushed to hug her daughter-in-law.

It was so good for me to see my Dear Elizabeth one more time.  And how joyous to see her get such wonderful news!  To watch her almost bounce with excitement.

“Please write to me as your time gets closer,” Elizabeth said.  “Please, may I come stay with you after the baby is born?  This will be my first grandchild, after all.  Oh, I am so, so happy for you!”

Sarah seemed happier than normal, for that I was glad.

“We would love to have you stay with us,” she said.  “I’m afraid I’ll need all the help I can get!”

“That’s very normal for new mothers,” Elizabeth said, with a smile.  “And for experienced mothers.  Never be too proud to ask for help.  All mothers understand.”

“Thank you.”

The two women hugged again, then resumed packing away bedding.  Now, though, there was a new, excited energy.  They talked baby names, baby care, baby, baby, baby.  I was very happy to listen to it all.  I had already experienced a few births, and the joy after the birth was an absolutely beautiful thing to witness.  It was worth having to watch the birthing process.

I was loaded into the wagon not long after Sarah shared her news.  I watched Dear Elizabeth’s face for as long as I could.

I was not loaded gently, nor was I tied down well.  The ride to Virginia was very rough and very long.  My glass rattled and drawers shook.  Wood knocked against wood.  I tried to remind myself that at least I wasn’t in Sarah’s position.  I obviously had no idea what it was like to carry a child, but I had watched Dear Elizabeth go through it, and it was not an easy or comfortable journey.  The turbulent wagon was probably quite difficult for Sarah.

We finally made it, though, and through the legs of a dining room table, I saw our new home.  It was, quite simply, a mansion.  It was three stories high and made of brick.  Tall windows lined the front and sides of the house that I could see – I assumed they went all the way around the house.  A large patio covered the front door, and four white pillars held up a second-floor balcony.  It was beautiful, and I heard Sarah exclaim that as well from the seat up front.

Zechariah drove the wagon team – I still didn’t know if it was pulled by horses or mules.  My excitement of having seen Dear Elizabeth again made me forget to look – up to the front door of the house.  Fortunately, he parked so that I could see the front door.

A man with dark skin, smartly dressed, came out to greet us.  I had never seen a man so dark before.  Was he okay?  He bowed low.  “Welcome, Masters.”

“Hello.  Is Uncle Frederick feeling well today?”  Zechariah didn’t act like anything was wrong with the man, so I assumed it was just something I had never seen before.  After all, Jedidiah had tended to get darker during the summer than during the winter.  Maybe it was similar with this man.

Zechariah jumped down from the wagon and lifted a hand to assist Sarah.

“Doin’ as well as can be, Sir.  He’s in a mighty bit o’ pain always.”

“I hate to hear that.  Is he able to see me now?  And Aunt Carrie?”

“Yes, sir.  I was instructed to bring you as soon as you was able to come in.  Please follow me.”

I watch the threesome walk up the white stairs onto the large porch, then walk through the double front door. 

Not long after, more people with dark skin came out and began unloading the wagon.  I was carried into the house and up one flight of stairs.  I was carefully positioned against one wall of a large bedroom.  Three windows let in a generous amount of light.  I could easily imagine a baby rocker next to the large bed. 

Yes, we were going to be quite happy here.

Or so I thought.