Belle by Beverly Jenkins Page A

felt and how clean she’d smelled that day he’d first carried her upstairs, and those memories coupled with his reaction to how lovely she’d looked in front of the mirror this evening had not evoked siblinglike feelings at all. The way she was beginning to make him feel was much more complex, much more personal. He hoped once the newness of having Belle around the house wore off and he became more accustomed to the sparkling light in her dark eyes and the curve of her smile, wanting to know more about her would fade, and he’d view her with no more passion than the cousin she was pretending to be.
    In the meantime, he’d concentrate on doing the Work and looking ahead to a future that included Francine as his wife.
     
     
    Lying in bed, Belle was thinking, too—about many things: her father, the Bests, Daniel. She’d put them all in her prayers before burrowing beneath the covers. Now as the darkness surrounded her, she thought about herself. What next? Where would she go, who would she become? The thought of all she’d have to learn to be a success here in the North just about made her hair spin. Maria W. Stewart, Frances Ellen Watkins, Frederick Douglass. There was so much to learn. At this juncture, she didn’t even know all the things she’d need to learn, but she was very thankful for the Bests, and she’d told God just that. Without them she might still be wandering the countryside lost.
    In the end she echoed what she’d vowed this afternoon at the station—she’d learn as much as she could as fast as she could. If her father had been recaptured, maybe she could make enough money as a seamstress to buy his freedom, if his master, Benjamin, was willing. She didn’t think he would be willing, though; her father was a skilled laborer, very valuable, and Master Benjamin had never been a kind man. But then, Belle never thought she’d ever be anything but a slave, so in her mind, with the help of the good Lord, anything was possible. She would see her father again; she just knew she would.

five
     
     
    Belle’s hopes were dashed a few days later when Mrs. Best asked her to come into the parlor early that morning.
    Belle took a seat. She could tell by the somber faces of Mr. and Mrs. Best that something was amiss. Before they could say anything, Belle stated, “It’s my father, isn’t it?”
    Cecilia nodded. “Word has it that he was recaptured and is now on his way back South.”
    The pain in Belle’s heart made her eyes close. She and her father had been so close to freedom. Now? Now, he was on his way back. She knew deep inside that no matter his own fate, he’d want her to live out the dream he’d hoped she’d find here.
    William Best pledged sincerely, “Belle, we’re going to do everything we can to find him and bring him back—everything.”
    “If he isn’t killed first,” Belle added softly. “He’s run before.”
    Mrs. Best agreed. “Sadly, that is a serious possibility.”
    Belle felt numb, as numb as she’d been watching her mother sold. “Is there anything else?”
    Mrs. Best shook her head. “No, dear.”
    “Then, may I be excused?”
    “Of course,” Mr. Best told her solemnly. “Of course.”
    Belle held on to her tears until she reached the privacy of her room. There, as the bright April day filled the interior with sunlight, Belle Palmer put her head in her hands and sobbed out her grief.
     
     
    Later that day, Belle’s sad mood was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called.
    It was Daniel. Belle had been crying all day. She knew she probably looked a fright, but didn’t care. “Hello, Daniel.”
    “Hello, Belle.”
    Daniel had just returned from putting up flyers about this weekend’s antislavery rally. His parents had related the terrible news about Belle’s father. Seeing her pain filled him with an overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and shoulder some of her sorrow. “I know nothing’s going to cheer you up, but would you