The Cost of Atonement Read online

  Virginia’s father deflated, nearly melting into the floor as the worry left his body. The flush left his cheeks, his skin resuming its normal coloring. Maybe he had been less confident about how the meeting would unfold than Virginia had thought. Was she really that stubborn?

  “Right, then. I will leave you two ladies to get acquainted.” He scuttled out the door before anyone could say another word.

  A slight giggle escaped Anna’s lips. “He seems relieved. Maybe he thought you were going to eat me alive.”

  “Possibly. Luckily for you both, I had a filling breakfast,” Virginia replied with a deviant smirk. She had to suppress a laugh when the smile slipped from Anna’s lips. Good—a healthy amount of fear from the other woman could come in handy. “Well, it looks as if we are stuck together now. I was in the middle of journaling, but I fear my ability to convert my thoughts into the written word has escaped me. I already have plans for the day, though, you may join me if you wish.”

  Virginia turned and walked out the door, not waiting for a reply. She had accepted that she wouldn’t be able to get rid of Anna, but that didn’t mean they had to be friends.

  Chapter Three

  THE WORN-DOWN COLORED man, Mr. Jones, slumped in the chair in front of Charles’s desk, had only known a life of trials. No doubt he was a runaway slave, but Charles didn’t ask. The weary caution at the edge of his gaze, that constantly darted around the room, told Charles all he needed to know.

  “I need that money. What I’m supposed to do when the landlord come knocking wanting his money?” Mr. Jones beseeched Charles in a sullen voice. He twirled his hat in his hands to give his fidgety fingers something to do.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Jones. I will do everything in my power to return what was taken from you,” Charles said with conviction.

  “How?” Mr. Jones barked. Surprise over his outburst shone in his eyes. He clamped his mouth shut, bowing his head. Regaining his composure, he leaned closer to Charles and lowered his voice to say, “Ever since that Dred Scott case, black men don’t have the right to sue white men.”

  “That case refers to federal courts. There are other avenues to retrieve what was taken from you. You provided the labor he required, and he needs to pay you for it. No man, white or black, can get away with such shady business dealings.” It burned Charles up inside every time he had to listen to men like Mr. Jones recite stories of being swindled and taken advantage of, with little hope of finding justice. Even worse were the times when there truly was no legal remedy for their case. He had decided to practice law specifically for men like Mr. Jones. To do his part in helping to give them tangible hope for a justice system that worked in their favor.

  “We moved into the tenement house two months ago. I can’t move my wife and youngins so soon.” His shoulders hunched even more as he folded into himself, resting his sharp elbows on his bony knees.

  “I will do my best to help,” Charles replied with quiet empathy.

  “Yeah, that’s what all y’all big bug lawyers say. And us colored folk are still out here without a penny to our name.” Mr. Jones shoved his hat back on his head as he rose from the chair to exit the office.

  Charles watched the man’s retreating back with the usual heaviness in his heart that accompanies such meetings.

  “It’s about time for you to go, isn’t it?” Mr. Taylor asked as he walked by. He had been Charles’s mentor and the guiding force in his career for the past three years. He also held the unofficial office of ensuring Charles made it to all of his appointments on time.

  Charles pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Sure enough, it was time for him to leave; otherwise, he would be late. In thirty minutes, he would begin his interview for admittance into the New York Bar Association. Charles placed his hand in his left pocket and rubbed the locket he always kept there for luck. He rose from his desk and straightened his cravat and vest. After slipping on his frock coat, he smoothed his hands over his ensemble, then held out his arms and spun for inspection. “How do I look?”

  “Like a future lawyer of New York Bar Association,” Mr. Taylor said with pride.

  “Excellent. If you would have said like a future sailor bound for the docks, I would have been worried.”

  “Go on, you. Be off and stop delaying.” Mr. Taylor kicked the air, booting Charles out of the room.

  With a smile at the older man’s antics, Charles left the office to begin his commute. Today, he took another step closer to his dreams.

  “SO, HOW’D IT GO?” ANDREW inquired.

  Charles let the heavy wooden door swing closed behind him, his head hanging low. He ran a hand through his hair, averting his gaze from his friend’s. Thomas and Andrew stood before him, eyes wide as they awaited his news.

  “Well, come on, then. You’re one of the smartest men I know, so it couldn’t have been that bad. Tell us,” Andrew prodded Charles. His voice held a bit less cheer than his first question, but his smile stayed intact, even if it was a little tighter around the edges.

  “Gentlemen,” Charles said in a downtrodden tone, eyes glued to the ground.

  “Ah, I’m sorry...” Thomas began, but Charles quickly cut him off.

  “You are looking at the newest addition to the New York State Bar Association!”

  “I knew it! Never doubted it for a second,” Andrew cheered.

  The wrinkle in his brow and fidgety way he’d shifted from side to side said otherwise, but Charles didn’t push the subject. A broad smile swept across his face. Andrew and Thomas pulled him into a collective hug, lifting him off his feet. Hearty pats on the back followed when they placed him back on his feet.

  “Of course, you were admitted,” Thomas beamed. “You spent months poring over that boring manifesto—Blackstone’s Commentaries, something or other. You have a law degree from Columbia College School of Law, and you’ve worked for one of the best law firms in New York City for the past three years. And you have a face that makes the ladies swoon every time you glance their way. If nothing else, those powder-head nobs would have let you in to increase their chances of getting some horizontal refreshment.”

  Charles and Andrew howled with laughter at Thomas’s crude assessment of his merits to be granted the privilege of being a lawyer. Neither Charles nor his friends had any trouble gaining the affections of the opposite sex.

  Each man had his own unique charms that bowled the ladies over. Charles with his blond hair, lean, muscular build, and classically beautiful face. Thomas with his mischievous grin that promised any manner of naughty play in store, jet black hair, and crystal blue eyes. And Andrew with his warm honey eyes, large, hard body, and dimple that added a touch of cute to his chiseled jaw and rugged face.

  “I agree with most of your assessment. I’m just glad to finally have achieved this dream.”

  “We have to celebrate,” Andrew said with rowdy excitement.

  “Of course, we should!” Thomas enthusiastically agreed. “It’s about time you released that tight rein on your unyielding self-control to indulge in a few spirits and women.”

  Charles took a step back, increasing the distance between himself and his friends. He held his hands up in protest. “Alcohol and women addle the brain. Mixing the two together is asking for trouble. Besides,” he said, looking Thomas in the eye, “I’ve seen the women you frequent, and cleanliness is a word they know nothing about.”

  Thomas laughed harder, unbothered by the comment. “I can’t argue with you on that front. One gal smelled so bad, I couldn’t even muster the desire to do the deed. I carry a sprig of lavender with me now, just in case.” All three men roared with laughter. “But this is a celebration. We will go to the best parlor house in the city. I heard amazing things about the one on Vesey Street. We’ll have a good time.”

  “We’ll compromise and indulge in the alcohol, but not the women. I’ll even let you pick the establishment,” Charles countered. He was by no means a saint, but he wasn’t one to share his carnal trysts with others, either. Bedroom doors closed for a reason, after all. Not everyone needed to know what went on behind his.

  “Lovely,” Andrew replied, slapping his hand on his thigh. “I can always use a stiff drink. Women, I can take or leave.”

  “Fine,” Thomas grumbled. “But if you aren’t rooster-ed up by the end of the night, I’m going to pour beer down your throat until you are!”

  Charles and Andrew laughed at their friend, knowing full well that he meant every word he spoke.

  “Well, let’s get going, then. The sooner the night begins, the sooner it can end,” Charles said with a smirk and pat on Thomas’s back.

  Taking the position of leader of the evening’s festivities, Thomas began walking a bit ahead of the other two men, guiding them toward their destination.

  Chapter Four

  CONNIVING TRICKSTER. The establishment Thomas had selected more closely resembled a brothel than a tavern, despite Charles’s compromise. Half-dressed women with brightly painted faces and their breasts bared for all to ogle sauntered from table to table, stopping to sit on the laps of the patrons.

  Several couples had disappeared up a flight of stairs, returning red-faced and sweaty hours later. An upbeat song filled the room, encouraging the men to shout the words while the pianist made the melody come alive.

  Charles had wanted to leave the second they entered, but Thomas grabbed his shoulders, forcing him farther into the seedy establishment. Andrew had been of no assistance; his eyes had locked onto a busty blonde and hadn’t left her since they’d walked in.

  Thomas’s eyes darted around the room, never staying on one woman for too long. He wasn’t picky, but a firm believer in the more the merrier when it came to the fairer sex. No doubt the card game Charles insisted they play was
the only thing keeping his friends from abandoning him for more lively activities.

  “Stare any longer, Andrew, and the woman will have to start charging you for the privilege,” Charles said in a sarcastic tone.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Andrew retorted.

  “He means you’re so focused on the blonde chit that your poker game is shit and you’re sucking the fun out of beating you,” Thomas chimed in, a knowing grin pasted on his lips.

  “You’re no better,” Andrew countered. “Your eyes have undressed every filly in this room. The only reason you’ve been able to win a hand is because you’re a cheat.”

  Thomas gasped, placing his hand against his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, sir. No need to tear down my reputation because you were caught with your eyes up a skirt. But, since we are such dear friends, I will pardon your rude accusations.”

  All three men laughed. Thomas had an astounding gift for the dramatic arts.

  Charles shook his head at his rambunctious friends. He placed his cards on the table, then raised his pint in the air. “To friends who make life a bit more colorful.”

  “To you, for becoming a professional liar and cheat,” Andrew added, clinking his glass with Charles’s.

  “And to you, for your continued health and safety in your foolhardy notion of fighting another man’s war,” Thomas added, raising his glass as well.

  Charles’s grip tightened on his glass, lips pausing mid-sip. There were some topics he and his friends did not discuss, the war being the most recent.

  “Say what you will, but at least I have the brass to stand up for something I believe in,” Andrew countered, voice low with derision. His eyes narrowed on Thomas as he set his glass on the table harder than was necessary.

  “And what do you believe in? That the Negro is human and deserves to be free? What if they are? Better them in the fields than us. Besides, what happens when they become free? They’ll flood to the north and try to take any factory positions they can get. Then, what? We lose our jobs, our livelihoods. I say if the South wants to keep them, then by all means let them.”

  Andrew and Charles sat back in their chairs, watching Thomas gulp down his ale after this impassioned speech. Andrew cracked his knuckles, then flexed his fingers as if fighting the urge to wrap his hands around Thomas’s neck.

  Charles stuck his hand in his left pocket. He ran his fingers over his locket as he rotated his head on his shoulders to release the building tension. Thomas was a dear friend, but statements such as that one made him question the man’s heart. He would never know how deeply those words cut Charles.

  “Your ignorance is concerning, yet so common I dare say it no longer shocks me,” Charles said. “Upsets me, yes—shocks me, no. This war is about so much more than the South being able to keep the blacks and slavery. However, it is still our duty to right this injustice. We whites are not slaves simply by divine coincidence. Who knows, maybe one day they will enslave us.” Charles finished his reprimand with a nonchalant shrug.

  “Set them free, and we may just find out. Who knows? They may retaliate just to spite us.” Back stiff, Thomas glanced between his two friends as if they were the daft ones for not understanding the larger issue underlying the institution of slavery. “And coincidence or not, I could care less. The cards of life have fallen in my favor, and I have no intention of questioning them.”

  Andrew slammed his fist on the table. Several nearby customers quieted, attention drawn to the storm brewing between the three gentlemen. “You sniveling, sorry excuse for a...”

  “Enough.” Charles raised his voice to cut through Andrew’s heated outburst.

  Andrew’s eyes flicked to Charles, sharing a look of mutual distaste for the conversation at hand. Grumbling under his breath, he slumped back into his chair, refusing to acknowledge Thomas.

  Charles turned his attention to Thomas, appeased that there would be no more outbursts from Andrew. “That statement truly saddens me, dear friend. I hope that one day you will have a change of heart. The last half of this conversation has been anything but delightful, and I truly did not wish to be in this establishment to begin with. I think it is time I took my leave. Thomas, I bid you adieu. Are you coming, Andrew?” Charles asked as he pushed his chair back from the table.

  Andrew gave a curt nod before rising as well.

  Thomas looked at the two men, hands held up in surrender. He even had the audacity to look hurt and confused. “Come on, gents. Is this how we’re going to end the evening? We’re allowed to have different opinions.”

  “This is how you decided to end the evening,” Andrew sneered. “Next time, it would serve you well to think before you open your mouth. Be lucky I love you like a brother, or you would be laid out on the ground with my fist in your mouth.”

  Charles picked up his frock coat from the back of his chair and turned to the exit, Andrew on his heels. It was unlikely that Thomas would ever ask for forgiveness, but they would put his comments behind them eventually. Charles knew that he could never change the man’s heart, but he wished with all he had that one day his friend’s eyes would be opened.

  VIRGINIA POINTED THE rod at the next set of words, written in her delicate loopy hand, on the chalk board of the small, one-room schoolhouse. “Let’s begin,” she instructed the students.

  Women who ranged in age from young to old sat in their chairs, back straight, hands folded on their desks, attention focused on the chalkboard Virginia pointed at.

  “Cat, hat, rat, sat,” they read aloud in unison.

  “Very good,” Virginia cheered to the small group. “You all have been such a wonderful group lately; I think I will release you early. Don’t forget to practice your spelling and the multiplication problems I assigned. There very well may be a pop quiz during the next lesson.”

  A collective groan rose from the group. Virginia laughed. They may pretend to loathe the work, but she knew how they really felt. Many of the women, especially the older ones, pored over their work, absorbing everything she presented to them. Some even came up to her after a lesson asking for more books to read. They were voracious learners, and Virginia loved every second she spent helping them achieve their education goals.

  “Ms. Hatcher?”

  Virginia looked down at Pearl. She was a petite little lady, with glowing onyx skin, no older than about seven years of age. Today, she wore a neatly pressed, brown cotton dress, with her hair neatly braided down. And her shoes, although worn and in need of replacement, were clean. Pearl’s mother was a seamstress, and her father worked in one of the factories. They didn’t have much, but they always made sure their daughter was well fed and presentable. “How are you today, Pearl?” Virginia asked with the special smile she always had for the little girl.

  “I am wonderful today, Ms. Hatcher. Thank you for asking.” She held out her hands, which contained a covered dish. “My mama baked a cake last night and wanted me to bring you some.”

  Virginia took the offered dessert. “Tell your mother I said thank you. I greatly appreciate this.”

  “I will. Bye, Ms. Hatcher.” Parental mission complete, the little girl skipped out of the school room.

  The rest of the women filed out of the room, waving and saying their goodbyes. Virginia waved back, a wide smile on her face. Teaching at Mrs. Ruth Washington’s School for Colored Women was the highlight of her day. It filled her up with pride and purpose each time she walked through the doors.

  “You are a wonderful teacher,” Anna said in a voice tinted with reverence. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”

  “No. Until about a year ago, I didn’t have plans. I assumed I would eventually be married off to the first suitor who would take me. But now, I want to do so much more with my life. In regard to teaching, it found me. I met Mrs. Ruth at the market, and we started chatting. She told me about her school and invited me out for a visit. I fell in love and have been back here, helping out in any way I can, ever since.”

  “Thank you for bringing me,” Anna replied with sincere appreciation.

  “Thank you for coming. Come, let us finish returning the room to rights so we can return home.”