LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING
IN PUBLICATION
Plaxton, Judith, 1940-
Morning star / by Judith
Plaxton.
ISBN 978-1-897187-97-5
1. Underground Railroad—Juvenile
fiction. I. Title.
PS8631.L42M67
2011 jC813’.6 C2011-904503-6
Cover by Luc Normandin
Edited by Alison Kooistra
Copyedited by
Kathryn White
Designed by Melissa Kaita
Icons © iStockphoto
Second Story Press gratefully acknowledges the support of the Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.
Published by
Second Story Press
20
Maud Street, Suite 401
Toronto, ON
M5V
2M5
www.secondstorypress.ca
Flower
FLOWER FELT fingers press down on her mouth, gentle but firm. She struggled awake to see her mother lift them away, touch one against her own lips, eyes wide with silent warning. Cleo helped Flower to sit up, shoved sleepy feet into shoes, and wrapped a cloak around her daughter’s shoulders. Gabriel lay on their cot, still asleep, his pudgy mouth open. Lizzie, whom Flower called Aunty, made her silent way toward the family and embraced them one by one.
“What…?” Flower began.
Her expression fierce, Cleo raised a finger once more. Flower stayed quiet, felt her body jerk as her father’s strong hands adjusted a sack on her back. She shivered in the chill air and felt rising alarm as she looked at the solemn faces of her mother and Aunty. The two women embraced once more; then Aunty clasped Flower’s face in her hands and kissed both cheeks. After the baby was bundled and secured in a sling for Cleo to carry, Eldon returned to the doorway. He looked in both directions and then gestured for his family to come with him out into the dark night.
Flower followed dutifully but reluctantly, still sleepy and confused. They crept out of the bunkhouse and passed by the back kitchen and laundry, the places where Cleo toiled daily preparing food and scrubbing linens, with Flower as her nimble helper. Once outside, Flower tugged at her mother’s sleeve. They both stopped. Cleo bent down and whispered directly into her daughter’s ear. “Your Pa’s taking us away from this place. It’s going to be a long road. You must be brave and strong, and quiet as a cat.” Cleo straightened and they resumed walking.
There was no moon, and clouds obscured the stars. Flower trailed behind her father. His long strides began to separate them, taking him farther and farther ahead. She quickened her pace, caught her toe on a tree root, and fell to the ground, her mother stumbling into her. Eldon gave his daughter a shake as he helped her up and said softly, “Stay close to me and pick up your feet.”
They walked through fields, stalks brushing against them, wet grass soaking the skirts of Cleo and Flower, their hems becoming heavy with dirt. When they arrived at the brook, they removed their shoes and waded into the flowing water. This was where Flower sometimes lingered on a hot day, but it was unfamiliar and scary in the inky blackness. Her feet became numb and slid around on the stones. She was afraid she might trip again, but didn’t want to use her voice to ask for help. After a few minutes, her father lifted her out of the cold water and carried her until they reached a bridge. They sat on the bank beneath it and rested.
Twelve-year-old Flower slept briefly, her head in her mother’s lap. When it was time to continue, she stood again, shaky with sleep, and walked between her parents. After a while, the dark night evolved into a gray dimness.
“Morning’s coming—people might see us! Hurry!”
Eldon’s whispered warning was like an alarm. They started to run. Eldon tugged his daughter along, leading the way into a woodlot. As they advanced, it became a forest, the trees tall and protective, like guardians.
They resumed their endless walking. When Flower started to whimper, her mother didn’t chastise her. Flower decided her mother probably felt like whimpering too, especially with Gabriel struggling and kicking on her back. Suddenly her father stopped and began to walk in a zigzag fashion—back and forth, side to side, frantically looking—for what? He stopped and shook his head, weary and impatient.
“What are you looking for?” her mother asked.
“Four large pines, two smaller ones in front. Due west. I’m going to climb up so I can see farther.” He scrambled up a tree, finally standing on a large limb. “There they are, a mile or so up ahead.” He stepped down, branch by branch, and jumped to the ground.
It took almost another hour of walking to reach the pine grove. Flower’s father stood and scanned the trees, uncertain. Gabriel started to scream and pull at his mother’s hair. The sudden onset of his wailing was shocking in the still morning air. Cleo’s “shushing” was fierce.
Flower reached up and stroked her brother’s face, trying to calm him and keep him quiet. “There, there, Gabriel.” She bent her finger into his mouth, and he sucked on her knuckle, his crying reduced to a softer mewling.
Cleo jiggled the baby on her back. “Isn’t this far enough?” she asked. “People might hear him if he starts up again. He’s beyond hungry. Can’t we stop now so I can feed him?”
“Now…a mighty oak.” Eldon lifted his hand, asking for patience. Flower studied his face and felt immense relief to see his eyes brighten and his frown disappear.
“There it is!” They threaded their way past the pines and stood in front of a large, mature oak. Eldon scanned the branches and then pointed. Almost out of sight, in the crook of three limbs, a wooden spoon lay laced with twine.
“Twenty paces north.” He began to stride, counting his steps. Cleo and Flower followed. They arrived at a rock face, high as the trees, green with clumps of moss. Eldon counted again and stood before a large bush. He pulled the branches aside to reveal a small cave.
They settled inside. There was room for all four of them to lie down, but not before Cleo pulled bread and fruit from the sack Flower carried. Eldon had drawn water from the brook and had stored it in a small crock. It was still cold and delicious. Cleo nursed Gabriel, and he fell asleep. They had their meal, huddled together, and slept.
Felicia
FELICIA STOOD in front of her bed and contemplated the clothing spread out on it. She picked up a blue sweater, held it to her chest, and turned to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, nose scrunched in disgust.
A light rapping of knuckles at the bedroom door. “Felicia!”
“Yes.”
Delia’s head appeared between the open door and the frame. “It’s time to get a move on. Come down and have some breakfast. I’ve already made it for you.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. Hurry up.”
“Yes, Mom.” Felicia set the sweater aside and held up a black T-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a fleecy vest, and a patterned scarf, one at a time. Nothing looked right. Her wardrobe was hopeless. Felicia tossed it all on the floor and flopped down on her bed. In a few minutes she heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs.
“What’s going on?”
“I have nothing to wear.”
Delia scanned the room. “Why don’t you just roll around on the floor and wear whatever you come up with.”
“Very funny.”
Delia sat down on the bed beside her daughter, stretched and straightened her back. “I know the first day of school is hard, especially when it’s a new school.”
“If only I had something decent,” Felicia said as she sat up.
“Your clothes are fine. We did well shopping with the budget we had.” Felicia felt a twinge of guilt. Her single mom worked hard as a secretary—or administrative assistant, as Delia preferred to be called—at a car dealership. “And I know you’re not happy that I got transferred here. But it’s good for us, easier from a money point of view. It’ll work out, you’ll see.”
Felicia didn’t say anything.
“I know Plainsville can’t compare with Toronto. Maybe this weekend we can drive over to Collingwood, do some shopping, and go for a swim. ” Her mother hugged her.
“Perfume.” Felicia sniffed.
“Sure. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s not the weekend.”
“I thought it would be a nice way to start the week.”
“Oh.”
“Cheerful. Want some?”
“Uh-uh.”
They talked in low tones, almost whispering. Felicia’s grandmother often slept late. They tried not to disturb her.
“I wish I could be like Nana and sleep in, with nothing to worry about.”
“Your Nana has had her share of worries. She’s earned her sleep-in time.” Delia picked up a sweater from the floor. “Put this on and come down for breakfast. You don’t want to be late your first day of school.”
Felicia studied the sweater and the T-shirt as her mother left the room. “Maybe the ‘layered look’ is the best idea.” She put on the tee, added the sweater, the vest, and the scarf, and stepped into jeans.
In the kitchen, her mother sipped her coffee from a mug. Felicia stared down at her plate of toast.
“I’m not hungry. I can’t eat this.”
“Try.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re really trying my patience this morning, Lord give me strength.”
“My stomach feels funny.”
“It’s going to feel funnier with nothing in it.”
Felicia picked up a piece of toast and bit the corner. It felt like sand on her tongue. She twisted her mouth and closed her eyes.
“At least eat one piece. I’ll give you money to buy some lunch, just for today. Tomorrow you pack a sandwich.”
After breakfast, Felicia brushed her teeth and studied her face in the bathroom mirror: dark brown eyes, biscuit-brown skin, seeming paler this morning. Her grandmother had fashioned tiny braids in her hair the night before. Felicia wondered what the kids at her new school would think of them, contemplated undoing them, but decided there was not enough time. Besides, she loved the gentle click the beads made when she moved her head. She applied tinted cream to her lips and joined her mother at the front door.
Flower
THE FAMILY sat in a tight circle and shared bread and fruit. Flower liked the cozy safety of the cave. “Pa, can’t we stay here?”
“Don’t be foolish! How could we live here?” His voice softened as he explained, “Master Chesley is away for business. He won’t realize we’re gone till he gets back. We have three days. Mustn’t waste them.” Eldon stood, brushed dirt from his pants. “Finish your meal. I’ll scout outside.” He parted the branches and disappeared.
Flower ate her apple down to the core. Her mother dug a hole, carefully placed the remains of the fruit in it. “We mustn’t leave a trace,” she said. Baby brother sat with fat little legs splayed out, supporting him on the dirt floor. Flower rolled a stone toward him, but took it away when he lifted it toward his mouth.
“No, no, Gabriel, that’s dirty.”
Her father returned and said, “Time to leave. Sun’s heading down.” They crept from their hiding place and continued the journey. Eldon had memorized the location of the North Star and followed it throughout the night. A sliver of moon provided some light, kept them from walking into trees.
“Why do you keep looking up at the sky?” Flower asked her father.
“Look up yourself.” They stopped walking, and Eldon put his hand on her shoulder and tilted her chin. “Over there,” he said, pointing. “That group of stars shaped like the long-handled cup that hangs by the barrel—the one we drink out of when we’re thirsty.”
At first Flower just saw a mass of sparkling light in the dark velvet sky, but as she followed her father’s finger, she recognized the shape he was talking about.
“If we keep that ahead of us,” he continued, “we’ll be heading north. That’s the way we want to go—to Canada.”
“What’s Canada?” asked Flower.
“It’s a different country, with different laws. We will be free there.”
Flower tried to imagine being free. “What will it be like to be free?”
“Lord, don’t you ask a lot of questions. I’m hoping it means I’ll get some work and you and Gabriel will get some schooling. We’ll manage our own home and our own lives.”
They started walking again. Flower’s curiosity took another track. “Are there wild beasts here, Papa?”
“It’s not the four-legged creatures we need to fear.”
“But what if I step on a snake?”
“The snake will be sorry.”
“I’m so hungry.”
“Just a bit, then.” Cleo reached into the sack. They shared bread and water and then resumed their march. The forest thinned, but the terrain remained stony and steep. As the darkness became light, Eldon pointed with satisfaction to the wide ribbon of water far below.
“The Ohio River. We’ll cross it tonight.”
They searched for cover, settled on a thicket of bushes. Flower continued her mother’s bedtime prayers silently in her head as she settled for the day’s sleep. They lay beneath a canopy of shrubs, she and her brother nestled between their parents. The branches were thorny, the ground buggy. Flower started to scratch at her bites, but her father slapped her hand. “Keep still!” Flower took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, trying to ignore the itching. She remembered the icy water of the brook and pictured it flowing over her limbs.
Sunlight filtered through the foliage and, with the breeze, created moving patterns against their faces. It had been easier to sleep in the darkness of the cave.
By early evening, they had left their hiding place, and with relief, stood and stretched their cramped limbs. They ate a few berries and almost finished what remained of the drinking water.
“We’ll get more when we reach the river.”
“We should be picking fruit. Our food supply is getting smaller.”
“Be quick then.”
Berries were plucked from the bushes, wrapped in a cloth, and stored in the sack Flower carried. Then they resumed their trek. Eldon continued walking in a northerly direction, the guiding star still visible. Their route, steep in places, took them downhill. Flower started to slide; her father gripped her arm, providing support. When they found themselves on a cleared road, Eldon hurried ahead, stopping where the road split in two directions. A large tree stood in the center of the divided road. Eldon walked up to the tree and embraced it, felt a nail embedded on the right side. “This way.”
“How… ?”
“Shhh!”
Eldon walked quickly. Cleo and Flower rushed to keep up. They felt uncomfortable on the road, exposed. A fence became visible and then a farmhouse in the distance. The sudden sound of a dog barking caused them to freeze. They drew closer together. Both parents flanked Flower in a protective embrace as they quickly turned and slipped back into the bush alongside the road. They felt safer there, but bumpy ground and tangled brambles slowed their travel.
As the sky lightened, they found another grove of trees and masses of bushes. Together, they added branches, creating shelter to hide them for another day.
Felicia
DELIA DROVE her daughter to school, stopped in front of the low rectangular building. They looked at the entrance and noted three yellow buses parked in the driveway.
“Find out about the bus system.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t be driving you every day.”
“I know.”
“Especially when you’re so tardy.”
“I know.”
Delia’s tone brightened. “You’ll meet all the kids, make new friends.”
“I know, I know, I know.”
“Give me a kiss, then, darlin’. Off you go.”
Felicia planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek and stepped out of the car. At the school door, she turned back to wave good-bye, only to see the back of the car already half a block down the street. Felicia steeled herself and walked with an air of pretend calm through streams of laughing, jostling students to the office.
Inside, a gray-haired woman looked up from her computer screen and smiled over her half glasses at Felicia. “Good morning. How may I help you?”
Felicia reached into her knapsack and presented a piece of paper to the woman, who thanked her and asked her to sit and wait. Felicia sank onto a bench. The breakfast toast squirmed in her stomach. To distract her rebellious digestive system, she stared at everything in this school office: the colorful posters, a wall calendar with puppy-dog illustrations, a vase of yellow flowers.
A woman in a red suit jacket and clicking high heels entered from a rear door and picked up a microphone. Her voice echoed throughout the school, welcoming the students, listing coming tryouts for school teams, choirs, and clubs. The national anthem followed her greetings. Those in the office stood at attention, so Felicia did too.
After that, the woman in the red jacket came over and introduced herself. Her handshake was warm, her smile welcoming.
“I’m Mrs. Mackie, the school principal. You’re in Grade Eight, right?” She turned to introduce another girl who had entered the office. “Dorothy will take you to your class.” Dorothy looked with interest at Felicia. The two girls left the office and started down the corridor together.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Felicia.”
“Wow, that’s so pretty.”
“Dorothy’s nice.”
“For an old lady! I don’t know what my parents were thinking when they came up with my name. You can call me Dodie. Everybody does.”
Felicia glanced at Dorothy as they walked along, noticed her rosy cheeks, her glossy brown braids held in place with butterfly clips.
“I like the way your hair looks.”
Dorothy turned to examine Felicia’s beaded braids. “I’ve never seen any like yours up close. How do you make them like that, so tiny?”
“My grandmother did it for me.”
They arrived at the classroom door. Dorothy breezed through and Felicia followed, her heart in her throat. She hoped the teacher was nice and wouldn’t ask the class to greet her. There was a hum of voices, and nobody stared at her. The teacher put her hand on Felicia’s shoulder.
“Attention, everyone! I want you to say hello to your new classmate.”
The room became quiet. A few heads swiveled in Felicia’s direction. Someone said “Hi.”
Felicia tried to keep smiling, ignored her churning stomach. She noticed two girls at the back of the room putting their heads together, one with her hand covering her mouth, whispering.
The teacher’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Felicia.”
“Lovely. I’m Miss Peabody.” Felicia felt herself propelled toward a desk. “Here’s your spot. Have a seat.”
Felicia sat down with relief. Lined notebooks were distributed. Miss Peabody talked and wrote on the board at the same time. When she underlined a word, the chalk broke in the middle of her sentence. She picked up another piece and continued. Felicia tried to pay attention, but her mind was buzzing. She stared straight ahead at the board, but the words meant nothing to her.
Relax. Stay calm.
Felicia’s grandmother had advised her to take deep breaths and count to ten when she was upset, so she inhaled deeply. The room was hot and stuffy. Perspiration began to trickle down her side.
I should have just worn the T-shirt instead of all this other stuff.
But it was too late to change her wardrobe, and since she didn’t have a locker yet, she had nowhere to put the extra clothes. Felicia pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and felt some relief. The words on the blackboard began to clear. She started to write them down in her notebook, trying not to pay attention to the whispering behind her, but her hand clenched as she heard the distinct words.
“What is it with the teeny weenie braids?”
“Her hair is so fuzzy.”
“Kind of weird.”
“Totally.”
Flower
THE RIVER was not as close as Eldon had thought. They scrambled and scraped their way toward it, but it remained elusive in the distance. Flower’s father urged them forward, his breathing labored. “Hurry! Hurry!”
“I’m trying to, Pa.”
“Try harder!”
“I’m hurrying as fast as I can.”
“Don’t talk back to me, child! We need to move!” He grabbed Flower by the arm. Her feet stumbled over one another, and the skin on her arm burned under his grip.
“She’s trying. Why are you being so harsh?” asked Cleo.
“The two of you should be listening to me…I’m doing my best to lead you…and getting nothing but sass.”
“We’re doing our best to follow. We’re tired. Let’s rest for a bit.”
“There’s no time, I tell you!” Eldon gave his wife a tug. Startled, she fell in a heap, and the baby began to cry.
“We’re your kin, not your slaves. Remember that!” Cleo’s eyes blazed up at her husband, then she turned to shush and comfort Gabriel.
Eldon knelt beside his wife. He tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the whimpering baby.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But time is running out…we have to meet a man—I’m not sure where—to take us across the river.”
“Will he wait for us?”
“I don’t know.”
Flower’s parents looked steadily at each other, then Eldon helped his wife to her feet. The family started to walk again. Flower had never seen her father act like that. It frightened her to see him frightened. She knew what fear looked like. She had seen and heard things, back where they’d come from. Sometimes there were cries in the night in the shared bunkhouse. She remembered her mother bathing the bleeding backs of two men who had been beaten after they tried to run away. She knew if the family got caught they could face the same punishment. She wondered if there might be a way for them to slip back to the plantation before their absence had been noticed, and before the master knew what they had done. But her father continued to lead them in another direction.
As the sun came up, she heard the swish of moving water, smelled the dampness of approaching wetland. The ground became muddy, the gumbo sucking at her shoes. Flower unknowingly approached a nest and jumped with alarm as the startled bird shot up into the sky.
“Time for us to make our own nest.” Eldon led them to a tangled grove on higher ground, wearily arranged extra branches for cover. The family settled in.
It was late afternoon when Flower awoke. Without disturbing her parents, she slipped out of their hiding place. Within a few minutes she spotted a felled tree, mossy with age. Flower lifted her skirt and perched on it. A small squirrel scurried through the fallen leaves and sat for a moment with his paws up against his face, filling his cheeks with food. Flower held her hand out to him, but he disappeared under a bush.
She wondered how close they were to the river. Perhaps the man was there. It would be wonderful if Flower saw him—she could return to her father and tell him that help was waiting. How relieved he would be! She stood and rearranged her clothing and began to walk.
Her feet were noiseless on the carpeted ground. The forest floor was soft and pliable, the trees far apart, beams of light angling between them. She promised herself she wouldn’t go far. Her parents might reach for her in their sleep. They would come awake fearful of where she was.
The sound of the rushing river increased. Suddenly, just ahead, she saw a man. He was hunched over the water, bringing his cupped hands up to his mouth, drinking from the river as it flowed by. Flower stood motionless. He turned and looked at her.
She had never seen such a monstrous face: charred dark as if from a fire, lumpy and misshapen. Only one eye was open, and it glared at her. She gasped and spun around, tried to run, but wasn’t fast enough. Terror made her clumsy. Within a breath, he was upon her, and a cold, wet hand was clamped against her mouth, stifling her desperate cry for her father.
Felicia
FELICIA FOLLOWED the other students down the hallway, hoped they were heading for a cafeteria. Her upset stomach was gone, and now she was hungry. They formed groups and headed in different directions, most of them outdoors. Felicia tried to walk as if she had a destination. The gym and the library were easily found, but where was the cafeteria? If she were back in Toronto, in that comfortable stew of colors and accents, she would be having lunch with Lenore and Rosalee, surrounded by kids she knew, some of them with “fuzzy” hair like hers. Here she felt like a visiting stranger. The whisperers at the back of the classroom had demolished the little confidence she had with their nasty comments about her hair. She overheard someone in the hallway talking about a lunch pit and followed him outside.
She stepped through the doors, and the early September heat hit her like a blast from a furnace. The boy walked toward a central area where many students were congregating—that must be the lunch pit. Felicia swept by that group as if she had someone to meet, someone waiting for her. She considered leaving for home but wasn’t sure of the way. There was a white truck with an ice-cream-cone logo on its side parked on the street. Food! Felicia checked her wallet. She had just enough for a hot dog and an ice cream bar.
Felicia purchased her lunch, found leafy shelter beneath a large maple tree, and sank to the grass. She bolted the wiener and bun, then savored the blend of chocolate and ice cream as it melted on her tongue.
The schoolyard was alive with play. There were at least three pickup basketball games, the balls lazily looping through the air, and voices laughing, shouting, calling to each other. Felicia felt alone again, longed to join in, but felt stiff with shyness and encumbered by her mountain of clothing. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve and stayed on the sidelines. It was terrible to sit alone. If only they had stayed in the city, where she had friends. Now we have to live in geeky old Plainsville. There had been no discussion about moving. Felicia had not been asked what she would like.
“Hey, Felicity!”
She turned and saw Dodie. “It’s Felicia.”
“Sorry. Aren’t you boiling?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Dodie dropped to her knees on the ground, followed by two other girls. “At least you’re in the shade.”
Dodie introduced Felicia to Renate, who had curly hair and dancing dark eyes, and Sophie, who was red-haired and freckled. “We started to play tetherball, but it was too hot.”
“I guess,” said Felicia.
“And we have gym after lunch.”
“You’re kidding!” Felicia wondered how she would manage with her winter wardrobe in the gym. “Outside?”
“Could be. Or, we could complain about the heat, and Miss Peabody might let us play volleyball inside.”
“I like volleyball,” said Felicia.
“Are you good at sports?” asked Sophie.
“Some. It depends.”
“Sophie is an excellent tennis player,” said Dodie. “And we all like to ride.”
“Bikes?” asked Felicia.
“No, horses!”
She tried to imagine Dodie, Renate, and Sophie riding.
The buzzer rang. The girls stood and brushed grass from their clothing.
“Three more hours!”
“Sophie, please,” said Renate, “It’s only our first day.”
“Sometimes the first time is the worst time. I wish I was at the stable.”
“At least we have gym!”
The girls entered the school. The air conditioning provided some relief, but not enough for Felicia, who imagined steam rising from her body.
“Felicia, you’re so hot!” said Dodie. “Take some of your stuff off.”
“What will I do with it? I don’t have a locker yet.”
“Take off what’s extra,” said Renate, “and we’ll each wear something.” She reached for Felicia’s sweater and slid her arm into a sleeve. “This is cool. Where did you get it?”
“In Toronto.” Felicia handed her vest to Dodie and the scarf to Sophie. She was left with her T-shirt. “Thanks!”
“No problemo!”
“It’s like we’re in a fashion show.” Renate led the way as they marched together back into the classroom.
Flower
FLOWER BIT down hard on a wet finger.
“Ow! That hurt! Why’d you have to go and do that?”
“You put your hand…over my face!”
“Quiet! To keep you quiet, that’s all.” He shook his hand in the air and gave it a pained look. “Teeth marks!” Flower started to edge away. He pushed her to the ground. “Where do you think you’re going?” She scrambled to her knees and tried to get up. “Stay there.” She sank back down to the earth and buried her face in her hands. “What’s your name? Where you from? Answer me!”
Flower raised her head and then lowered it. His face was too horrid to look at. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Everybody knows their name.”
“My Pa is going to whup you.” Flower hoped her father would hear them and rescue her.
“Where’s your Pa, then?”
Flower looked up and beyond the man. “Here he comes.” She could see her father striding toward them through the trees, a large stick in his raised hand. She ran and clung to him.