Emily's Vow by Betty Bolte

her husband and father. Using Jedediah's middle name and her father's first name seemed fitting. Had she somehow foreseen her imminent death after delivering her little one into the world? A chill crawled across Emily's back as her attention returned to the women before her.
    "How is Tommy this afternoon?" Emily picked an apple from the bowl and felt it while keeping her gaze on Mary. She was comely enough to have attracted men in the past, of all races. Her dead baby girl's light brown curls had revealed much of her previous situation.
    "That one runs me ragged." Mary waved a wooden spoon toward the little fellow in the corner, a few drops of stew following its arc. "Always into something. Tommy started crawling this morning, and none too slowly neither. He'll be quite a handful once he's walkin'."
    Mary had settled in well, much to Emily's relief, given the circumstances and her recent loss. Living in town afforded a very different situation from that of living on a plantation with its own self-sufficient community. She likely enjoyed the fact that no slave master would take advantage of her lowly position to bed her again, too.
    Emily replaced the apple in the wooden bowl. "That will increase your task of keeping him safe, will it not?"
    "Yes, miss." Jasmine laughed. "We'll need eyes in the back of our heads to know what he's into then."
    "Sure as the sun sets." Shivering suddenly, Emily looked around the room, searching for the source of her consternation.
    Through the open windows the trill of a distant bird competed with the sounds of bubbling from the pots, Mary's renewed humming, and Tommy's babble. Emily's heart fluttered and raced, her breathing constricted as the feeling of impending danger built inside her.
    She and Elizabeth had learned to heed their instincts. This feeling presaged change. The first time this disturbing sense of danger happened, they had anticipated the horrific fire that destroyed half of the buildings in town, including the fledgling museum. Then again they knew when a hurricane would decimate the flax crop, making it impossible for them to make the material for the simplest clothing. This feeling presaged a danger. Whether large or small, something bad hovered in the air. Her hands chilled. She could not discern what hid over the horizon or how deadly it might be. Best to carry on with the business at hand. Try to remain calm.
    "We'll be having dinner with friends this evening," Emily finally said.
    "Yes, miss," Jasmine said. "Your father told us earlier."
    Though the floor was scarred by boot heels and scorched by hot pots and pans, the boards appeared swept clean. Likewise the table in the center of the small space glowed from scrubbing. The kitchen exhibited a remarkable state of cleanliness given the circumstances. Emily fervently wished for the day when they no longer relied upon slaves. Mayhap she'd free her personal slaves in due course. She had no power to change what her uncle and father did with the slaves, but she eased their situation in every way possible. "Jasmine, perhaps you'd like one of Elizabeth's old gowns?"
    "Yes, miss." Jasmine's deep brown eyes concealed her emotions.
    "And Mary seems to be fitting right in." Emily looked at the robust young woman who watched her in return. Elizabeth would have known exactly how to help the girl feel at home, relax, enjoy being part of this extended family. Why did she always feel so inadequate to the situation? "I don't know what I'd do without you to feed and care for Tommy, Mary. Thank you for that."
    Mary simply nodded and smiled shyly at her.
    Everyone in town knew the Sullivans took good care of their slaves. Some accused them of spoiling them, treating them too much like family to the point they didn't know their place. To her mind, this was the best way to make sure their slaves had no reason to resort to revolt and murder. She prayed someday people would be treated the same. After all, wasn't that what this blasted war was