Selah by Lisa T. Bergren

Author:Lisa T. Bergren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;Christian fiction;Love stories;FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027050
ISBN: 9781493422777
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2019-12-24T00:00:00+00:00

Two days later, she was working on her Igbo, and the sisters their English, when Abe came running into the meetinghouse. She lifted a finger, reminding him not to interrupt, and listened to Chully, Abana, and Dala all repeat the English word Mary had said in Igbo. Window. She did her best to ignore her fidgeting half brother as the sisters formed the word.

“Pardon me, Miss Selah,” he said when they paused at last.

“Yes, Abe. What do you need?” she asked, speaking the words slowly so that the girls could easily hear. Selah was eager to resolve his trouble and return to getting to know the sisters.

Mary translated her words in Igbo.

“May I . . . I mean, might you . . . ?” He glanced around as if afraid someone might hear.

Selah sighed in frustration and led him outside. “What is it, Abe?” she asked, irritated now by his reticence to simply say what he must.

“I . . . well, you see . . .” He bit his lip and looked to the jungle.

“Abraham.”

“Yes’m?”

“Out with it,” she said, folding her arms.

But he simply reached for her hand. “Please come.”

She reluctantly allowed the boy to tug her forward and down the stairs, a niggling fear growing into full-blown angst in her gut.

He led her down the path and into the stables. He took a lit lantern from a peg and led her to the farthest stall. She followed silently, trepidation continuing to build in her mind and heart. “Abe . . .”

When they reached the stall, he lifted the lantern high. At first, all she saw was fresh straw mounded in the far corner.

“’Tis all right,” Abe said quietly. “I brought a friend. Come out.”

Selah held her breath, hoping this did not mean what she thought it might. But despite her hopes, two young girls rose from the straw as Lazarus might have from the tomb, strands sticking to their nubby hair and clothing.

“Miss Selah,” Abe said tentatively, rubbing his hands together, “this is Sarah and Florence, slaves from Cold Spring.”

Selah closed her eyes and brought a hand to her lips. Again from the property owned by Angus Shubert, just south of them. They were likely twins, though not identical. Perhaps twelve or thirteen. One girl’s lip was split and seeping. The other girl’s eye was bruised and swollen shut. They held hands.

“They’re sisters,” Abe said. “Master Shubert got mad at Sarah for spilling his tea and hit her.”

“Pardon me?” Selah said, lifting a hand to her head and spinning toward him. “Did you say Master Shubert? How could that be? He is in jail!”

“No, miss,” said Florence. “He got out this morning. And came home spittin’ mad.”

Selah sank against the wall, her knees feeling wobbly.

Abe said, “When Florence stepped in, he hit her too. They knew they had to run. Master Shubert . . . he’s been nosing around their quarters at night. He has his eye on them. One wouldn’t go without the other. And when they ran, they ran here.

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