Sarah's Roses, Book I: Roses of Blue

Chapter XI

Chapter XI

"I never blamed you"

Once more I read the scribble on the crumpled piece of paper. How many times had I pulled out the little note, unfolded it and read the four words; four words that didn't make any sense to me.

"Sarah," she had told me in a dying voice, pressing the paper into my hand, "Sarah, you must give this to Harriet. Promise me you will give it to her. You must make sure she gets it."

Even now, I could feel the pressure of her thin hand in mine, and yet, after eight years, I still had not been able to fulfill my last promise to my poor mother. I sighed and carefully folded the scrap of paper, running my finger over the words To Harriet written one side of the folded note. Mother had scribbled it in handwriting even worse than the note itself. She had literally scratched it with her last strength. It had been so important to her that the note was delivered, and it wasn't like I hadn't tried. I had asked just about the entire household about Harriet, trying to get them to tell me who was she and where could I find her? I had dared to ask my aunt one more time, but she had gotten very upset and commanded me to never speak that name in her presence, Harriet was no concern of mine and I must never ask about her. I got the point and never brought up Harriet in front of Aunt Helen again. She had tried to get me to give her the note again, but I had blatantly refused. Mama had told me to give it only to Harriet, and there was no way I was letting my aunt get her hands on it. Who knows what she would do with it. If she wasn't going to tell me anything about Harriet, than the note was staying with me. Next I had badgered my uncle as about Harriet. Several times I approached him with the question, I tried to explain to him how important it was for me to find out.

"It's not for me to say, Sarah," He spoke in a slow voice. "If your aunt refuses to talk about it, then I certainly won't. There are some stories better left untold, Sarah. Things better left unsaid, things you don't need to know, things better kept hidden."

Eventually I gave up asking him, it was obvious he wasn't going to tell me anything. I tried Em. She also shook her head and looked at me with sad eyes. "Ah, Miss Sarah, it is not my story and not one I's gonna say. Better not to ask, honey child, better not to know. Leave it be, leave it be."

Ben's answer wasn't any better, "If the Mistress and Massa won't talk about it, then it is not to be spoken of. Don't ask Sarah, it's not for you to know."

Elsie, Lulu our housekeeper, Kristoffs, George our groom, they all refused to tell me who Harriet was.

"Maybe you could tell me who Harriet is and where I could find her!" In utter frustration I had finally asked my grandfather's portrait. What was the great mystery surrounding her? It was such an obvious family secret, one that all the adults knew about, why wouldn't they let me in on it? Did Harriet have something to do with my mother running away? No one had ever told me why mama had run off either. And why had Jacob Greensten told me on his deathbed that it wasn't her fault? What wasn't her fault? The whole house was wrapped up in some great mystery, one I was not let in on. The annoying thing was that I was obviously a part of this great secret. Not of my own accord, but being my mother's daughter made me a part of the mystery. I was a mystery in a mystery and it was driving me insane.

"Who are you Harriet?" I asked, placing the note back in the little box with the rest of my mother's papers. "Why are you so difficult to find? I've been trying to get this note to you for eight years. And I'm still at the same point as when I started." I turned my attention to my reflection in the mirror. "Sixteen years old! Sixteen years old today," I said out loud.(I had a terrible habit of talking to myself in the mirror.) "To think you've lived here for eight years. Who would have thought, the day your boarded that train in Boston that your life would turn out this way?"