Civil War Taboo

Jeff Barkley detested slavery. But when he saw Sally for sale at an auction, he knew he had to save her. He had known the lovely young girl as a child. With the flames of rebellion growing, falling in love with a slave was madness. And when he discovers Sally is his own half-sister, they decide to flee the South. Can they escape with their lives?

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

Sally heard Master Jeff’s friends leaving, their voices cool and polite as they made their farewells, rather than the loud anger and icy rage of an hour before. She stayed in the kitchen, washing the dinner dishes as their footsteps retreated down the stairs. Her presence, she knew, had been a goad to the earlier argument. She had no wish to be the cause of further trouble.

Jeff appeared in the doorway, the wine-bottle in one hand, three glasses in the other. “Fools,” he commented mildly, pouring himself a drink and placing the other two glasses where Sally could wash them. “Well, not William. He’s not an idiot. But Sam seems to think that the federal government will sit by, meek as lambs, if fire-breathers like his father try to leave the union.”

Sally nodded, keeping her eyes down as she scrubbed the glasses clean with water and a bit of rag, then set them aside to dry.

“I hate this,” Jeff said, voice low. Startled, Sally looked up. “You cannot know how much I hate this, Sally. Slavery isn’t…” He chewed his lip. “It’s not just a perversion, a desecration of natural law. But it taints all of us. Makes us all complicit. A good man like William will make excuses, dance around the subject, pretend that his conscience doesn’t gnaw at him for keeping people in chains.

“And look at me!” He laughed bitterly. “I’m no better! Oh, I can say that I bought you,” his mouth twisted, “to keep you from a worse fate. But am I any better than Sam or William? You clean my clothes, cook my meals, wash my dishes, and carry my medical bag when I go out on a call. Every bite of food that passes my lips is prepared by you, for no more than the cost of clothing and feeding you. And I claim to be morally superior. Better than others who do the same.

“Do you know?” His green gaze hit her like flint on steel. “That even if I tried to free you, I couldn’t? It’s illegal.” His laugh was painful. “That’s how terrified whites are of blacks. They actually forbid us from freeing our slaves. If I wrote out papers of manumission for you right now, I could be arrested. Or more likely run out of town on a rail if people around here got wind of it.” He took another swallow of wine. “I swear to God, Sally, sometimes I wish Jesus would descend from Heaven to judge us. And if every slaveowner south of the Ohio River were thrown into the Pit of Hell, well, I would not say he had done us wrong.”

Sally stood stock-still as she listened to this outpouring of bitter, frustrated grief. Not only for her and her people, but for his as well. She blinked, suddenly seeing it as he did. Her own pain was merely a small part of it. Slavery was a sweet poison. Terrible for her people, yes. But almost as bad for his, addicted as they were, and addled with fear of what free blacks might do once they were freed of their chains. Even the best of them, like Jeff, could see no way out of the trap.

But at least he has the strength to try.

It was as swift as a sunrise. And as slow. Sally blinked as she felt her heart swell with love and desire for this lovely, fierce, flawed man. One who, among all his people, had the courage to face the truth.

She rinsed and dried the last glass with shaking hands. And then she crossed the few feet between them, took his face between her palms, and kissed him with all the passion and skill she had.