At What Cost, Silence? by Karen Lynne Klink

Author:Karen Lynne Klink
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press

Chapter Thirty-Six

Bernadette

“This is monstrous, Papa, utterly monstrous!”

I had stood on the back porch watching my papa turning terribly red, his fists trembling at his sides, and had worried he might have a fit of apoplexy holding onto his temper. Marcus placed his large hands on Papa’s shoulders, looked him calmly in the eyes, and whispered something only Papa could hear. I watched while Papa helped Betta take a limping and bleeding Marcus to their cabin.

I had followed Papa down the hall and into the parlor before exclaiming.

He had his back to me and slowly turned. I was shocked by the tear that ran down one eye and by the control and soft voice with which he said, “Be silent, my girl.” Then he collapsed in his favorite chair as though he could no longer hold the weight of it all upon his shoulders.

I perched on the sofa across from him, waiting. After some time, it became impossible for me to wait. “I read My Bondage and My Freedom by that man Frederick Douglass. We are doing wrong. Slavery is wrong.”

Papa met my eyes with his dark ones. He sat back in his chair, gave me this ghost of a smile, and said, “It is. That is why we are helping the enslaved hereabouts find their freedom. But never speak a word of this, not even to Adrien.”

How did I not know?

“But, but, you, we own . . . people. They are our slaves, Papa, no matter you call them our people.” Eyes threatening tears, it was so terribly difficult to say as I fisted my skirts and wished to flee but dared not.

Papa grasped the arms of his chair when he lifted his head to look up at me, partly with shame, yet not entirely.

“If there was another way, I would have taken it. Yes, I wanted, desired, land. And the only place I could afford to get it was under Stephen Austin here in Texas. We made a go of it, right in the middle of where these people needed help. This is a place of safety, Bernadette, in more ways than one, where I do the best I can. I freed Marcus years ago before we came here, and he agreed to support me at his own peril. He believes in what we are doing. There are others here who believe the same, but I can’t, won’t tell you their names for their safety and yours. Don’t ask me anything further. Please.” He had begun wearily, but his words became more firmly and earnestly spoken as he went on, even unto the last.

My papa. I saw him differently. I hurried over, sank to my knees at his feet and wrapped my arms around him as far as I could reach. My dear papa. I loved him so.

“Don’t look at me like that, dear daughter. I am no hero. I, I don’t deserve such.”

He pushed himself up, out of my arms, and shuffled to the fireplace, placed his hand on the mantel, stood there, his back to me, then turned, head down, a hand on his brow.

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