A thunderous crash sounded from the second floor. Nancy gasped and headed for the stairs. “You don’t suppose Mrs. Weaver has fallen, do you?”
She raced up the stairs despite her expanding abdomen. Faith and Clementine followed without delay.
Mrs. Weaver’s room was near the back stairs at the end of the hall, and it was clear that some sort of ruckus was going on inside.
“Mrs. Weaver, are you all right?” Nancy didn’t wait for an answer but produced her key and unlocked the door. “Mrs. Weaver?”
“I’m—I’m quite ... all right,” the old woman replied, her voice barely heard.
Faith made certain they had light before assessing the situation. If Mrs. Weaver had fallen, she would need to examine her. But there was no thought of that once Faith turned back to where Mrs. Weaver lay tangled in her covers—on the floor. The slats in the bed had broken or shifted enough that the collapse had caused a terrible crash.
But this was not the reason for everyone’s immediate silence and dropped jaws. There beside Mrs. Weaver in the rumpled mess was a small black woman who stared back at them as if she feared for her life.
CHAPTER8
The wide-eyed black woman clutched the covers to her neck as her gaze darted from face to face. Faith could see she was terrified and knelt beside her to offer reassurance.
“I’m a doctor. Are you injured?”
The gray-haired woman shook her head. Mrs. Weaver, on the other side of the bed, finally spoke. “Help me up from this mess, please.”
Clementine pulled back the tangle of covers and assisted Virginia Weaver to a sitting position. The mattress was lopsided, with part of the top and right side still positioned on the rail, while the left side and lower part had landed on the floor.
Mimi burst into the room. “What on earth happened?” She stopped and gaped when she saw the small black woman.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Weaver?” Nancy asked as the old woman adjusted her mobcap.
“I am well.” She got to her feet with Clementine’s help and reached for her flannel robe. “What a disaster, and now my secret is known.”
Nancy smiled. “Can you explain what’s going on?”
Mrs. Weaver allowed Clementine to help her with the dressing gown. “This is Alma. We’ve been together since childhood, and I will not be parted from her. She was my slave, but I freed her, and she has long been my friend.”
Faith again smiled and offered her hand to the elderly black woman. “Might I help you to your feet?”
Alma gave a hesitant nod.
Taking great care to cause the woman no pain, Faith all but lifted the tiny soul from the floor. She couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds, nightclothes and all.
“Well, I must say, this is a surprise,” Nancy said, shaking her head.
“I did not intend to cheat you of revenue,” Mrs. Weaver declared. “That was certainly never my intention, but we know about the laws against blacks here. Once, when my husband and I were newly arrived, we saw another family with a black maid, and what happened was appalling. They whipped that poor servant and then forced the family to send her away. Over the years, we’ve heard much threatening talk, and I’ve even read about some physical displays in the paper. I couldn’t risk that for poor Alma.”
“So you kept her hidden? That must have been quite difficult.” Nancy’s tone was compassionate and not in the least accusing.
Mrs. Weaver nodded. “It seemed the only thing we could do. If folks knew we had a black woman living in our house, they would have come to make her leave.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to endure so much.” Nancy shook her head. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have some cocoa? When Seth returns, I’ll have him repair the bed. He should be home any moment.”
“But what about Alma?” Mrs. Weaver asked. “I cannot bear for her to be put onto the streets.” She went to the black woman and put her arm around her. “She is dearer than a sister to me, and without her I would surely die. She has cared for me since infancy.”
“I would never consider separating you,” Nancy replied. “Honestly, Mrs. Weaver, if you had just come to me, I would have seen to it that she was safely kept with you. I am not like those who would cruelly take her from you. Although I understand why you didn’t tell me. Trust is required for such a thing, and you didn’t know me well enough to know that you could trust me with your secret.”
They adjourned to the first floor, and while Clementine went to the kitchen to see to the cocoa, the other women gathered around the dining room table.
Faith could see that the black woman was still quite fearful. “I’m Faith Kenner, Alma. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I think you’ll find that everyone here is quite accepting of people, no matter their skin color.”
Alma glanced to Mrs. Weaver, who nodded. “It would seem,” Virginia Weaver declared, “that we are among friends.”
