then.”
Blessing half smiled sadly. “Tippy is younger now.”
“Does this Boston man she interested in act like your late husband?”
Blessing considered this. She’d seen him at the docks tonight, but it was the first time. “Stoddard makes it plain that he wants to court her.”
“If I remember rightly, Richard Brightman did more than that. He wouldn’t leave you alone. Sending flowers every day. Little love notes. He didn’t hardly give you a chance to think.”
Scenes from her whirlwind courtship with Richard played in her mind. He had done whatever she wanted, whatever pleased her. Said he would die if she didn’t agree to be his wife. She’d been so innocent then. “I should have known it was too good . . .”
“To be true,” Joanna finished for her.
“I’m still assessing Stoddard Henry.” Blessing sighed and switched her mind back to the present. “This baby doesn’t have a name,” she said, not putting her fear for the child into words. Would they choose a name only to etch it on a small tombstone?
“Well, we don’t want to repeat a name.” Joanna looked thoughtful and her humming lowered. “How about Luke?”
Blessing considered this, stroking the child’s baby-soft skin. “It’s a strong name and has a good feeling about it. What surname shall we give him?”
“How about Green? Simple. Easy to say and spell.”
Blessing bent down and kissed the baby’s forehead, wishing she could make up for the fact that he’d not been welcomed by proud and happy parents. Only one woman had cared about him or his mother enough to keep him alive. She blinked away tears again. “Welcome, Luke Green. May God bless thy life. May thee be a willing worker, honest and kind. May thee be strong enough to live and face this world.”
“Amen,” Joanna agreed.
Then the back door opened and their wet nurse, Theodosia, as dark-complected as Joanna was light, came in and shedher shawl. In short order she gathered the child from Joanna, sat down, and began to nurse him. “He’s nearly starved. I can’t stay long. I left my others sleeping. My aunt will look in on them.”
A young widow with two little ones under four, Theodosia supported herself through her work for the orphanage.
“I think you should consider moving here,” Blessing said once more. She still didn’t like sending babies to Theodosia’s neighborhood, even though it was close to her own. Little Africa was always a target for ruffians and violence.
Theodosia frowned. “I got a safe place and don’t want to lose it.”
Blessing didn’t press her. Theodosia and her children spent their days here, and every evening she took the nurslings home with her. She liked to remain somewhat independent. And after all, Blessing couldn’t blame her—she herself needed time away from the weight of this place.
After the child had eaten till he fell asleep, Joanna handed Theodosia a cloth bag holding clean clothing and diapers. The baby in her arms, Theodosia nodded and headed outside to the waiting carriage, bidding them good night.
Joanna sighed, bid Blessing the same, and left for her room upstairs. A nearby church bell tolled eleven times.
Wishing Joanna would have stayed up for a chat, Blessing sank down at the kitchen table, suddenly bone-weary. Joanna was in charge of the orphans’ needs, but Blessing bore the ultimate responsibility not only for the orphans but also for most of the people who cared for them.
The orphanage had a staff of six. Four were former slaves or the children of former slaves: the cook, maid, laundress,and of course, Joanna. They were all at risk of kidnapping and violence, so she’d hired a white gardener/handyman and his wife, who had left North Carolina because of their antislavery sentiments and were needed here to protect the others when Blessing was absent. Even free people of color had no legal rights in Ohio.
She realized she was in an odd, reflective humor. Meeting the men from Boston at the
Blessing half smiled sadly. “Tippy is younger now.”
“Does this Boston man she interested in act like your late husband?”
Blessing considered this. She’d seen him at the docks tonight, but it was the first time. “Stoddard makes it plain that he wants to court her.”
“If I remember rightly, Richard Brightman did more than that. He wouldn’t leave you alone. Sending flowers every day. Little love notes. He didn’t hardly give you a chance to think.”
Scenes from her whirlwind courtship with Richard played in her mind. He had done whatever she wanted, whatever pleased her. Said he would die if she didn’t agree to be his wife. She’d been so innocent then. “I should have known it was too good . . .”
“To be true,” Joanna finished for her.
“I’m still assessing Stoddard Henry.” Blessing sighed and switched her mind back to the present. “This baby doesn’t have a name,” she said, not putting her fear for the child into words. Would they choose a name only to etch it on a small tombstone?
“Well, we don’t want to repeat a name.” Joanna looked thoughtful and her humming lowered. “How about Luke?”
Blessing considered this, stroking the child’s baby-soft skin. “It’s a strong name and has a good feeling about it. What surname shall we give him?”
“How about Green? Simple. Easy to say and spell.”
Blessing bent down and kissed the baby’s forehead, wishing she could make up for the fact that he’d not been welcomed by proud and happy parents. Only one woman had cared about him or his mother enough to keep him alive. She blinked away tears again. “Welcome, Luke Green. May God bless thy life. May thee be a willing worker, honest and kind. May thee be strong enough to live and face this world.”
“Amen,” Joanna agreed.
Then the back door opened and their wet nurse, Theodosia, as dark-complected as Joanna was light, came in and shedher shawl. In short order she gathered the child from Joanna, sat down, and began to nurse him. “He’s nearly starved. I can’t stay long. I left my others sleeping. My aunt will look in on them.”
A young widow with two little ones under four, Theodosia supported herself through her work for the orphanage.
“I think you should consider moving here,” Blessing said once more. She still didn’t like sending babies to Theodosia’s neighborhood, even though it was close to her own. Little Africa was always a target for ruffians and violence.
Theodosia frowned. “I got a safe place and don’t want to lose it.”
Blessing didn’t press her. Theodosia and her children spent their days here, and every evening she took the nurslings home with her. She liked to remain somewhat independent. And after all, Blessing couldn’t blame her—she herself needed time away from the weight of this place.
After the child had eaten till he fell asleep, Joanna handed Theodosia a cloth bag holding clean clothing and diapers. The baby in her arms, Theodosia nodded and headed outside to the waiting carriage, bidding them good night.
Joanna sighed, bid Blessing the same, and left for her room upstairs. A nearby church bell tolled eleven times.
Wishing Joanna would have stayed up for a chat, Blessing sank down at the kitchen table, suddenly bone-weary. Joanna was in charge of the orphans’ needs, but Blessing bore the ultimate responsibility not only for the orphans but also for most of the people who cared for them.
The orphanage had a staff of six. Four were former slaves or the children of former slaves: the cook, maid, laundress,and of course, Joanna. They were all at risk of kidnapping and violence, so she’d hired a white gardener/handyman and his wife, who had left North Carolina because of their antislavery sentiments and were needed here to protect the others when Blessing was absent. Even free people of color had no legal rights in Ohio.
She realized she was in an odd, reflective humor. Meeting the men from Boston at the
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