Trouble the Water

by Jacqueline Friedland

Douglas sensed the air leaving him, the despair curdling into each part of his body as he registered the significance of the words he had been told. He felt the anguish arrive, piece by searing piece, to each vein, every muscle. The agony erupted, turning every bit of him to ash, to paralysis, to nothing.

I felt this kind of pain once. It was a "breakdown" that spread like little fires erupting in certain places on my body and then shifting to other places.

Her family’s Wigan flat would have fit, in its entirety, on the front porch of this house. It was difficult to grasp that she had forsaken her pallet in the front room, the one she shared with her sister, Gwendolyn, and often Charlie too, for a home such as this. Abby thought about what might be expected of her in exchange for her new housing and fought against the acid rising in her throat. She noticed that the far side of the home had a different look, with brighter bricks, as though it had been constructed only recently, added to the existing structure. What absurdity, she thought, that people with so much space, such amplitude, could feel obliged to add more.

How we distrust something so grand as to be intimidating, wanting to be back where we were dragged from.

Mr. Elling had closed off that part of the home after the fire, though he first completely refurbished it. Abby realized that the repaired wing must have been the newer construction she noticed outside a few moments earlier. She knew little about the deaths of Sarah and Cherish Elling, only that they perished by fire.

Why would he refurbish a section of the house destroyed by fire, if he had not wanted to use it?

I challenge you, dear governess, to love me like you’ve offered once you’ve seen inside my rotted soul.

We often think the worst of ourselves and even try to prove ourselves right.

“Look, gentlemen,” Douglas responded carefully, glancing around the bar to make eye contact with each of the men. “I come from Liverpool. I was not raised with slaves. It’s not what I know or need. What the rest of you do, that’s your business. Why should I care when it’s your rice and cotton that keep my boats loaded with cargo? You people do your business, and I’ll do mine. I am a Southerner now, and I stand with you all as my neighbors.”

A reasonable argument about adhering to the practice of slavery or not as one might decide. These southerners will want more.

What I care about now is not sitting idle, not averting my gaze while guiltless people spend their lives in bondage. Families getting ripped apart . . .” His voice caught in his throat, and he coughed into his hand, attempting to regain composure. “I only regret I didn’t speak up when I was a younger man, that I was so involved in my own life that I didn’t think to care.”

It's curious how some people see the wrong in a certain way of life but others are convinced they could not run their homes and businesses without it. And lives are lost trying to prove it.

We have been focused on the illegal slave trade that continues to flourish, despite having been outlawed for nearly thirty-five years. Until international trafficking in slaves has ceased, there can be no meaningful abolitionist movement domestically.”

It would make sense to stop the further supply of slaves from other countries as a first step in stopping its influence.

The diversion by the Blockade of that one ship may not sound like much, but it resulted in the return of more than two hundred would-be slaves to Africa.

A good start at making things as right as they could.

All you need to digest at this moment is that if you’re willing, you and Colby will be our freedom commanders for everything south of the Mason-Dixon Line.”

A leading position for a dangerous endeavor but a dedicated member.

“You’re certain?” she asked. “Won’t they all handle me as though I am beneath them? They know all the dirty linen about why I’ve come to stay, I’m sure.” “Hardly,” Larissa patted Abby’s hand. “You are the esteemed ward of one of the wealthiest men in Charleston. You’ll see, that is one of the attractive peculiarities of America. It matters not where you’ve come from, only where you end up. It will all be arranged to your satisfaction.”

Position, propriety, and money were all to be admired and held in esteem.

How quickly Larissa had corrected her with pursed lips and a declaration that only the worst of all hosts would allow an unmarried young woman to remain idle at his event. The master of the house would actively recruit gentlemen guests to entertain any lady who seemed to be lacking attention, she’d clarified.

Wow, you couldn't be a "wallflower" even if you wanted too.

If the Southern slaves were freed, struggling farmers like Bly would be forced to compete with the free blacks for paltry earnings, for sales, for sustenance. With slavery intact, at least there was one class of people at whom individuals like Bly could thumb their noses. It was no wonder Bly would be so vocal about Douglas’s suspicious activities. Alleged activities, he reminded himself.

It seems at one time or another we turn to someone who is worse off than ourselves, maybe to feel better than where we are.

Gracie considered her mother’s perspective. She supposed it was accurate that Clover had been slower lately, less attentive. Gracie had never been able to get into the spirit of punishing the slaves though, demeaning them like animals when they failed to execute their duties with the requisite precision. She did believe wholeheartedly in the necessity of slavery, of course she did, but she abhorred certain aspects of the system. She agreed that each person had their station in life, and it seemed clear enough that the calling of the Negroes was to serve their white masters. But the brutality with which some masters treated their slaves, torturing them, shackling them nightly, whipping them beyond repair, well, Gracie just couldn’t see the humanity in that.

She's thought long and hard about her feeling toward the slaves and how they were treated in an inhumane way.

Without allowing Gracie opportunity to respond, Cora Rae added, “If you do this favor for me, I will do you the favor of avoiding your precious Harrison like he’s carrying the pox. I do believe that’s the only way I can prevent him from falling for me. And frankly, I’m not even sure that will work, but I’ll do what I can.” Cora Rae walked toward the door and then added, “I’m so glad we had this talk. It’s something, being sisters.”

Why does there always have to be a mean sister?

He simply couldn’t figure what to make of her, her history, her contradictory actions, her evolving presence in his home. There were other curiosities, as well—her fear, which was so pervasive, yet erratic. He thought of her overfamiliarity with Reggie, where she was slick with recklessness. There was no inkling of fear then, not until Douglas arrived. There was also the girl’s changing appearance, her lack of wants, her grace and independence. He remembered his impression when he first beheld her upon her arrival so many months ago, a dusty obligation with withered clothing and barren eyes.

Abby's come a long way but her past is still with her and Douglas better beware.

Matthew had been a nasty, lying, slippery sort. But he wouldn’t have imagined that Matthew could stoop so low as to abuse a young girl. His own niece. Douglas squeezed his eyes shut, as if to clear himself of the vile images coursing through his mind.

They live in the most unsuspecting family structures.

Douglas pictured the pregnant Clover, and his resolve became like water, trickling away from him. Ever since losing Sarah and Cherish, he had been rejecting pleas for help from abolitionists, over and again. But those had been requests for leadership, not appeals on behalf of someone specific. He looked up at the coffered ceiling and huffed out an exasperated breath. He did not want to get involved in this. But he knew too well what could happen to a runaway who didn’t have the support of the Underground.

Once you've been helping the helpless, how can you turn away when they need you.

He thought, again, about leaving this godforsaken South Carolina, better yet, the whole blasted country. But Douglas had promised his father-in-law, Nat, so many years ago, that he’d stay in Charleston to oversee Henderson Shipping, make it his own, after the man’s death. He imagined too that the spirits of Sarah and Cherish still hovered somewhere over Charleston. If he left, he would feel as though he had left them behind. No, like it or not, Douglas was bonded to South Carolina.

Sometimes we are put in a place or circumstance for reasons we can't fathom.

It made her fingers itch the way Cora Rae always got exactly what she wanted. And now she was forcing Gracie to betray a friend. For what, really? To ensnare a man who cared nothing for her. Gracie wondered if she should simply inform Cora Rae that she would not participate in the scheme. That Cora Rae could seduce Harrison Blount however she chose, and it wouldn’t matter to Gracie. But, oh it would matter. She felt ill every time she imagined Harrison mooning over Cora Rae. She couldn’t let that happen. So instead she would continue to act as her sister’s agent. She would just have to do her best to prevent Abby from getting hurt in the process.

So Grace is trapped by her own sister's sinister behavior. What traps us in another's wicked plans? Fear? Self-hatred? Maybe Grace will figure it out before it's too late.

pickaninny.

The first time I heard this word I was appalled and I didn't even know what it meant.

Ever since the fire, he had lived inside the protection of his despair, as though he deserved no other emotion. But as he walked through the foyer, opening the door to the cool January sunshine, he sensed a new pathway expanding in his mind. There was a place somewhere outside of hopelessness, pulling at him. Allowing aspiration in his life was not the same as leaving Sarah and Cherish behind. He would have to stop feeling that he betrayed them each time he felt the urge to smile.

Despair can entomb us beyond our understanding and entrench us beyond rescue.

Abby opened the door and caught her breath. The man standing behind the desk was Douglas but was also not Douglas. He looked so drastically different from when she had seen him only a few days before, so different that it seemed almost preposterous. Gone was the ragged beard that had sprouted in all directions, giving him the air of a careless eccentric. Gone were the haphazard threadbare garments that he’d so thoughtlessly worn. Here now was a man who was freshly shaven, who had given care to himself as he dressed. The effect was staggering. Had his hair been trimmed too? His entire posture, his presence, had transformed along with his wardrobe. The alteration in the person before her was so complete that it seemed impossible to have occurred in a matter of days, to be the result of simple changes in style, clothes, and hair. It was as if the man she’d been expecting to find in the study had only ever existed in a dream, or perhaps this, now, was the dream.

It can be more than startling to see such a notable change in anyone. What about how much Abby herself had changed? That was more gradual but still astounding.

Clearly he had more human connections in his life than she’d realized though, if he’d been contacting so many people about Clover’s escape. Were there other escapees too? It could be that Douglas was helping a myriad of Southern slaves all at once, and she’d only happened to hear about one. Her chest swelled at the idea of such admirable work, and then she had another feeling, almost like jealousy. How lucky Douglas was, to be of use, to lighten the loads of others. To be needed.

Life needs a purpose, a goal and it can seem to be right at our fingertips where we can't quite reach it.