Luke did come in the night, but she had slept so soundly that she didn’t hear him. The proof was the odor of porridge bubbling over the fire when she awoke. She had slept in her clothes, and scrambled down the loft ladder at once.
“Ah, the sleeper awaketh!”
“It’s late,” she said. “I have to go.” But he made her wait long enough to eat.
It was a strange good-bye. She did not hope to see Ezekial again. She hoped that he could cross the border fast as a fox—far away from the snares of those who would trap him. How could she have imagined for one minute that she could betray him? “I hope you get to Canada safe,” she said. “And I hope your family can join you real soon.” And then, without even thinking, she thrust her hand into her pocket and held out to him the calf-money bag. “You might need something along the way,” she said.
The coins jangled as she passed them over.
“But this is yours. You’ll need it. You earned it.”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t earn it. It come from selling the calf. I was only going to bury it—till it was needed.”
“Will you think of it as a loan, then?” he asked. “When I get established, I’ll send it to you care of the Stevenses. With interest, if I can.”
“There’s no hurry. Wait till your family comes. I don’t know when my brother and I can ever get back.” She felt leaden with sadness. She pushed the stool to the window and climbed up. He held the window open as she climbed out. Someone—Luke perhaps—had left the short ladder in place.
“I can never thank you, my friend,” Ezekial said.
“It was half Stevenses’ calf by rights,” she said, trying to diminish for both of them the enormity of what she had done. “It was their bull.”
“I hope you find your freedom as well, Miss Lydia,” he said. It wasn’t until she was well down the road that she began to try to figure out what he had meant. And he was right. At Cutler’s, despite Triphena’s friendship, she was no more than a slave. She worked from before dawn until well after dark, and what did she have to show for it? She was no closer to paying off the debt and coming home than she’d been a year ago. She needed cash money for that. She needed work that would pay and pay well. And there was only one place in New England where a girl could get a good cash wage for her work—and that was in Lowell, in the mills.
* * *
* * *
The weather held and the trip back was mostly downhill, so she was back by early afternoon. She hung the unused snowshoes in the shed and the lunch bucket in the pantry before she entered the warm kitchen.
“So! You’ve decided to honor us with a visit!” The mistress’s face was red with heat or rage. Behind her, Triphena grimaced an apology.
She stood in the doorway, trying to frame an excuse or apology, but as usual the words did not come quickly enough to mind.
“You’re dismissed!” the woman said.
“The best one you ever had,” Triphena muttered.
“Unless—”
“No,” Lyddie said quickly. “I know I done wrong to go off when you wasn’t here. I’ll just collect my things and be gone, ey?”
“You’re wearing my dress!”
“Yes, ma’am. Shall I wash it before I go or—?”
“Don’t be impertinent!”
Lyddie went past the angry woman without a word and up the back staircase to her tiny, windowless room. She pulled off the calico dress and put on the tight homespun, but it was like laying off a great burden. She felt more lighthearted than she had since the day Mrs. Peck brought the letter.
Triphena had followed her up. “Just stay out of sight today. By tomorrow she’ll have come to her senses. She knows you’re the best worker she’s ever likely to get—and at no price at all. Why she sends your mother fifty cents a week, and then, only if I remind her.”
“I’m going to be a factory girl, Triphena.”
“You what?”
“I’m free. She’s set me free. I can do anything I want. I can go to Lowell and make real money to pay off the debt so I can go home.”
“But your brother—”