Allegheny Hideaway. Kimberly Tanner GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
cool water. “We’ll leave you two to freshen up. Supper is ready when you are.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Hattie was too amazed at how she was being treated to respond politely. Iris shut the door so she could put on fresh clothes before going to eat. She removed her hat and veil as well as the wig.
“I’m not going to wear the wigs here, because I would have to use the same one all the time. I think it’s safe to use my own hair now. Once I change, I would like for you to braid it for me,” she told Hattie.
“Yes, ma’am. Should I change too?”
“Yes. I think it would be a good idea. Put on your best dress, Hattie.” Iris spoke quietly, not wanting anyone to hear her using a different name.
Ten minutes later, the two females emerged from their shared room clean and refreshed. Iris donned a respectable pastel dress lined with ruffles. Her hair spiraled around her head in a silky black braid. Hattie wore her best black uniform dress with white collar and apron.
Tom stood from his chair in the parlor as the women emerged. “Right this way,” he told them.
Missus Sellers had already filled five bowls with steaming beef stew. A plateful of raisin muffins sat in the middle of the table, waiting to be devoured as well.
“Please, come sit down,” the senior Sellers told everyone from the head of the table. “Mary Grace, you join us now, you may sit beside me if you like,” he told the colored woman. He did not approve of slavery, and he knew this woman was just that.
Hattie looked toward Iris for approval. Iris’ eyes were large with uncertainly. Back home, slaves never sat at the dining table with their masters. Hattie was her friend, but still … However, they were in the north now, she realized. Things were different here. Knowing that this was their only shelter, Iris decided to play along. She barely nodded approval.
“Yes sir,” Hattie responded to the elder man. She took a seat on the bench nearest his end of the table. Iris took her place beside Hattie. Missus Sellers took the other end of the table while Tom sat on the bench opposite the two women. This was going to be an interesting meal.
Tom and his parents joined hands. His parents then held out their other hands to hold Iris’ and Hattie’s hands. Hattie timidly complied. Once the circle was complete, Mister Sellers began a prayer of thanksgiving to God. He thanked God for bringing his son back for a visit, for his lovely wife, for their abundance, for their guests’ safe travel, and for the future. He also asked for quick healing for a Mister Greenwood who had recently broken his leg. At the end, he thanked God for their food and said “Amen.”
“Amen,” the family echoed.
Hattie sat in her chair dismayed at being included in the prayer and the supper. Everyone else began eating.
“Mary Grace, are you ill?” Missus Sellers asked.
Blinking out of her shock, Hattie answered, “No, ma’am. I’m fine. Just fine.”
The woman smiled. “Good.”
Dinner was pleasant enough as conversation was kept fairly light. Tom’s parents wanted to know where their guests were from and under what circumstances they had arrived in Williamsport. Iris repeated her lies.
“Oh my dear … What you must have been through,” Missus Sellers sympathized. “I am so sorry.”
“Thank you. I will just be thankful to get into a home again and get settled down,” Iris professed. At least this part was the truth.
Senior Mister Sellers cleared his throat. He looked toward his son. “You know Tom, the old Myers place is up for sale. A bit run down, but … available.”
“That house gives me the creeps,” Tom told his father. He looked at Iris. “Missus Myers killed her husband there several years ago. She was later tried, found guilty and hanged.”
Hattie let out a noise. Iris looked at her with warning eyes. She then looked at Tom. “Regardless, I would still like to see it. If nobody has wanted it in several years, I might get a good price on it.”
“That you would,” the older man answered with a laugh.
Missus Sellers cleared her throat and looked at her husband. “Dear, you know what they say.” She then turned to Iris. “I don’t think it would be a good choice for you, Missus Blackheart.”
“Why not, ma’am?”
“Well … I don’t want to scare you dear. But they say that, um, well … that Mister Myers’ ghost still visits from time to time.”
Hattie let out another noise. “No ghosts, ma’am. No ghosts!” she pleaded.
“Very well, but I don’t believe in them,” Iris stated for the record. “Are there any other homes available?”
“Only one that I can think of, and it’s way out of town,” Mister Sellers spoke. “But don’t give up, dear. We can ask around at church on Sunday.”
4
Two days later, Hattie and Iris joined the Sellers trio in church. Apparently, Mister Sellers had been the minister in the community for years, but had recently stepped down. A younger minister, Orville Shepherd, probably in his mid to late thirties, now took the pulpit. His wife, Tina Louise and four children, all boys, sat in the first pew. Iris noted about fifty people in the church house. It was located just near the river running south of town.
In the past two days, she had made friends with the good family. She learned that thirty year old Tom was a captain in the military and lived in a camp outside of Harrisburg. He was able to come home occasionally to visit. He had never been married, much to his mother’s dismay. His older brother, Wayne and his wife and four children, lived in Scranton, about seventy miles away. They came home twice a year. Both parents, Betsy and Gerald, were wonderfully kind. Iris thought that Gerald Sellers was being overly gratuitous to Hattie, practically waiting on her hand and foot. It was very odd behavior.
Tom had slept in the loft these last two nights since his old room was taken. He was intrigued by this woman and her slave-servant. There was a mystery about her that made him interested. He wanted to find out more of this raven haired beauty and her real story. She was kind, and obviously well bred, but he just knew there was something she was holding back. He would get to the truth in time.
After church, Gerald introduced his house guests to the townsfolk. He even inquired as to property that Missus Blackheart might purchase. There was only one suggestion made. The Myers’ house.
“Mister Sellers, would you be willing to show me the Myers’ house anyway?” Iris asked during the drive home.
“If you’re sure, I’ll take you,” he agreed.
“It won’t hurt to look,” she told him. “Besides, I’ve no other choice.”
“We can go this afternoon, after dinner if you want to,” he decided.
Iris agreed. Why not? It was a fine day.
After lunch, Hattie and Betsy were swapping recipes. Iris had not told her servant what she was up to. She knew Hattie would be vexed at the thought of living in a ghost house. Expecting to go with Gerald Sellers, Iris was disappointed to find him asleep in his chair by the fire within minutes after eating.
“He does this every Sunday,” Tom whispered. “He will sleep for two hours exactly.”
Iris’ face pouted.
“What’s wrong?” the well-groomed soldier asked.
“Your father was going to show me the Myers’ place this afternoon. I guess it will just have to wait,” she answered.
“I can take you,” he offered eagerly.
“Would you?” Iris caught herself showing too much eagerness and appreciation. She did