“How long will they rest?” Val asked.
“An hour or two. Thanks so much for your help today. Your being here allowed me time to write letters for some freedmen to their kin. I’m way behind.”
Sable must have seen the confusion on Val’s face, so she explained. “I began writing letters for those who couldn’t read or write when I was in the contraband camp where Rai and I met. Now I do the same for the freedmen here in New Orleans.”
Val understood now. “The brother of one of my students asked me to do something similar. He wants to put a plea in the newspapers in hopes of finding his wife.”
“I’ve helped with those, too, because I know what it’s like to have missing family members. I’ve been searching for my sister, Mavis, and brother, Rhine, since Freedom. Each night I pray they are alive and safe, and that we’ll be reunited.”
Val thought about her grandmother and her siblings.
“Slavery was an awful thing,” Sable said. “As a race we’ve suffered so much pain and sorrow because of it.”
Val agreed. “Both North and South. I was eleven when the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act was implemented, and I can recall how terrified everyone was of being captured by all the slave catchers that came north. The catchers didn’t care if you had free papers or not. Some of my classmates lost fathers, mothers. Entire families fled to Canada to hide themselves.”
“In the South, news from the North was hard to come by so I know nothing about those times.”
“Our parents escorted us back and forth to school. The churches passed out whistles to the women and older children because the catchers sometimes came during the day while the men were at work.”
“Why whistles?”
“They served as alarms and alerts. I remember my grandmother and some of the other women blowing their whistles while chasing one off our street. The more they blew, the more women joined in. They’d armed themselves with long-handled spoons and forks. Skillets. Broomsticks. The man couldn’t run fast enough and received quite a beating.”
Sable chuckled. “That must’ve been some sight.”
“It was.” She’d watched the episode from the doorway of her grandmother’s dress shop.
“When my grandmother returned she marched in, put her mop away, and said, ‘He’s not coming back.’”
“I wish you were going to stay, Valinda. We’d probably have fun together. I have the family but very few friends.”
Val remembered Sable touching on being shunned by the Creole women during their lunch at the Christophe. “Maybe the women here will come around.”
Sable shrugged. “Who knows, but I do wish you weren’t leaving.”
“There’s a chance that I’ll stay. Let’s wait and see what Cole says.”
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
Val planned to do the same.
That evening as Val dressed for the welcome-home dinner in her bedroom, she thought back on her day with Sable and the passionate moment between Sable and her husband. Val wondered what that bond felt like, and if they were that playful with each other all the time. Raimond’s pledge to beg her pardon had caused Sable to blush. Val thought he might’ve been alluding to something more intimate, but being an innocent in such matters, she didn’t know.
The large dining room was filled with LeVeqs. There was conversation, laughter, a gloriously set table for the adults, and a smaller one for the younger members. Standing before the mantel and wearing an elegant indigo-hued gown was Julianna. Beside her stood a tall handsome man wearing spectacles. The two were having an animated conversation with Raimond and Sable. Seeing Val, Julianna beckoned to her.
“Valinda Lacy, my husband, Henri Vincent.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“My pleasure as well,” he replied in French-accented English. “Julie tells me you may not be with us for much longer.”
“I’m hoping my plans will change.”
“I do as well.”
At that moment, Little Reba announced dinner and everyone moved to the table. Val noted that Drake wasn’t in the room. She told herself she wasn’t disappointed by his absence, but it was a lie. She chose a seat across from Raimond and Sable. As everyone was settling in, Beau walked over to Val. “May I?” he asked, indicating the empty chair to her left.
“Of course.”