The Underground Railroad Brides Collection<\/a>:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n
Chapter 1<\/p>\n
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1859<\/p>\n
\u201cSon, when are you going to get married?\u201d<\/p>\n
Oh no, she had to go and mention that. His mother acted as if he were the only unmarried, upper-class Negro man in Philadelphia. Joseph Adams ignored her and shoved the paddle into the hot, wood-fired masonry oven. He pulled out the thick, crusty loaves of bread. Thin fingers of sweat trickled down his face. He set the paddle of hot bread onto the counter and flexed his aching arms. The pain reminded him of his late-night excursion with other free black abolitionists. He\u2019d been unloading supplies into the church, getting ready for the next group of runaway slaves they were expecting. The yeasty scent of the bread enveloped him as he sighed and wiped his forehead with a towel. Hopefully, his headache would go away soon.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoy, you hear me talking to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMother, I hear you.\u201d Did she honestly think he could predict when he\u2019d be getting married? His mother\u2019s mouth pressed down while she arranged loaves of bread into large square baskets. Her bony shoulders drooped. She\u2019d been so miserable since Father died one month ago.<\/p>\n
Joseph focused on the rough pine walls and two empty slab tables in their bakery. Visions of sitting with his father at those tables, talking about life, filled his mind. He eyed his mother. She hadn\u2019t been eating as well as she should be, and she\u2019d lost a lot of weight. He was worried about her, but, when he tried to get her to see the doctor, she\u2019d get upset. He heard her crying every night. Hopefully, she\u2019d soon heal from her sadness. He figured her grief was making her act so irrational about his future.<\/p>\n
He pointed to the office in the back room. He briefly eyed the stacks of parchment papers and ink well resting on top of the antique desk. He then focused on the painting of his late father which was centered on the office wall. \u201cDidn\u2019t you tell me you had to do some bookkeeping today?\u201d Maybe if he got her focused on something else, she\u2019d stop asking him about holy matrimony.<\/p>\n
She shook her head, the red kerchief on her head bouncing with the movement. \u201cYou never answered my question about marriage.\u201d<\/p>\n
No, he hadn\u2019t. She\u2019d asked that question at least ten times over the last month. His response hadn\u2019t changed so why bother answering? \u201cMother, I don\u2019t want to talk about marriage.\u201d He again gestured toward the back room. \u201cIf you don\u2019t want to do the bookkeeping, then why don\u2019t you go and rest for a bit.\u201d He figured she could sit in the chair and prop her feet up. Maybe close her eyes for a few minutes.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, if anybody should be resting, it should be you. You got up before I did.\u201d In spite of her words, she made her way over to the back room. She dropped into the chair and propped her feet onto a stool and leaned back. \u201cYou were up hours before I was.\u201d She then closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
Indeed he was. He missed having his father in the bakery, helping out in the kitchen. Now he had to work even harder since they had yet to hire someone to take his father\u2019s place. Working the extra hours made him sick, literally. Thoughts of running away from the family business and never looking back rushed through his mind. How nice it would be to never bake another loaf of bread. The loud screech of the door opening invaded his thoughts.<\/p>\n
Joseph focused on the small, dark-skinned woman who strolled into his shop. A few black curls peeked from beneath her bonnet. As soon as he spotted her full lips and sculpted cheekbones, he paused. He could look at this woman all day. He took a deep breath, realized he\u2019d stopped breathing. Her sharp eyes scanned the red-bricked walls and rough wooden tables. He wiped his sweaty palms on his apron and approached her. \u201cMay I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019s come about the job.\u201d<\/p>\n
They\u2019d just started looking for a replacement for his father. The few people who\u2019d inquired had not passed his mother\u2019s approval. This was the first time they\u2019d ever tried to hire a nonfamily member for their business. He cleared his throat and stared at the woman. Her skin was the color of the dark chocolate they sometimes used in their flaky, crescent-shaped croissants. He asked the first question that popped into his mind. \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRuth.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth. The name suited her. He studied her warm, cocoa-brown skin and her cheap gray dress. Scuffed brown shoes covered her dainty feet. When he again focused on her face, she looked away, as if embarrassed.<\/p>\n
Realizing his staring made her uncomfortable, Joseph glanced away and cleared his throat. He schooled his face to a stern, businesslike expression before shifting his gaze back to her. \u201cRuth, have you worked in a bakery before?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you need my assistance, Joseph?\u201d At Mother\u2019s voice, Joseph\u2019s stomach curled with dismay. Ever since his father died, Mother had watched his every move, as if she didn\u2019t trust him to run the bakery on his own. She focused on Ruth. \u201cDid I hear you asking about the job?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth dipped her head. Mother scrutinized the young woman. \u201cYes\u2019m. I\u2019s come to see about work.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mother peered at her. \u201cHow did you know about this job?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCyrus Brown says you lookin\u2019 for a baker.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mother scrunched her eyebrows. \u201cWho is Cyrus Brown?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth folded her arms over her chest. \u201cHe\u2019s an abolitionist over at the church.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAn abolitionist told you about this job?\u201d Her voice vibrated through the room.<\/p>\n
Joseph groaned inwardly. The last thing he needed was for Mother to get upset about the abolitionist movement. If she found out he was involved with the Underground Railroad, she\u2019d have a conniption for sure. She\u2019d often told him they should give money to the cause, but, not to get actively involved. He figured she was scared. She\u2019d been so distressed since his father died that he had not found the right time to tell her about his recent involvement.<\/p>\n
Mother cocked her head and squinted at Ruth. \u201cHow would an abolitionist know about this job?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMother, it doesn\u2019t matter. Ruth is here now, so we need to consider her for the position.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth nodded toward Joseph. \u201cThank you. I\u2019s glad you said that.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gestured toward Mother. \u201cRuth, this is my mother, Elizabeth, and I\u2019m Joseph Adams.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth nodded at Joseph before focusing on his mother. She dipped her head. \u201cPleased to meet ya, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mother didn\u2019t acknowledge Ruth\u2019s greeting. Instead, her dark eyes assessed her like a hawk. \u201cI can\u2019t have someone working in our bakery who talks like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Joseph cringed. He needed to step in, and Mother needed to tone down her elitist attitude. Their family had been free for two generations and had amassed a considerable amount of wealth. Mother wore their upper-class status like a badge, making sure everybody knew they owned their own business and catered to both White and Black elite clientele. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t have to talk to anyone. I\u2019ll wait on the customers.\u201d As long as Ruth knew how to bake, he was sure she\u2019d fit into their business.<\/p>\n
Mother\u2019s chin jutted out. \u201cI\u2019m in charge around here. She just won\u2019t do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth\u2019s dark eyes snapped to life and she stood taller. She folded her thin arms over her chest and looked directly into Mother\u2019s face. \u201cI\u2019s can bake bread better than anybody around here. Let\u2019s me prove it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mother stepped back, obviously stunned. Joseph smiled. People rarely stood up to his tall, overbearing, and outspoken mother. Joseph liked Ruth\u2019s spunk. Someone like Ruth was just what they needed around here to put Mother in her place. He needed to hurry up and give Ruth a chance before Mother got crazy and forced her to leave the bakery. He gestured toward their oven. \u201cCome over to the oven, Ruth.\u201d<\/p>\n
With quick steps, she followed him to the workspace behind the counter. She glanced at the dough trough, the wood-fired masonry oven, the large counter space. She then took note of the sacks of flour in the corner. She seemed to be taking everything in, an inventory of her new surroundings. \u201cYou gots any nuts, berries, dried fruit\u2026cinnamon?\u201d<\/p>\n
Joseph opened the cabinet and removed the dried cranberries, raisins, and a canister of cinnamon, pushed the items toward Ruth, then glanced at Mother and grinned. Mother remained uncharacteristically quiet. Usually when she met someone, she enjoyed dominating the conversation. Her silence told him she was either impressed or speechless\u2014and it took a lot to make Mother speechless.<\/p>\n
Ruth took the paddle, plunged it into the trough, and scooped some dough onto the counter. She then stopped, glanced around. \u201cDo you have any dough that\u2019s already been set out to rise?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d He rushed to give her the filled wooden bowl he\u2019d placed near the oven earlier. She dumped the dough onto the workspace and sprinkled flour on top. Then, with deft hands, she worked the dough, sprinkling in the cinnamon, nuts, and dried fruit. Her small delicate hands looked so lovely\u2026he could imagine watching her knead dough all day. She stopped working, turned toward him. \u201cWhere\u2019s the other stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n
He frowned. What was she talking about? \u201cStuff?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo bake your bread. Sugar and stuff like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pointed toward the cabinet. \u201cI\u2019ll go get what you need.\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head. \u201cI\u2019ll get it.\u201d She opened the cabinet and studied the shelves. She removed containers, opened the tops, and sniffed each one. Their containers of spices were clearly labeled, so he figured she just wanted to make sure their spices were fresh. She stopped sniffing, looked directly at him. \u201cDon\u2019t watch me.\u201d The command flew from her mouth as her dark eyes pierced into his.<\/p>\n
Goodness, he hadn\u2019t been expecting that. He focused on Mother. Her narrowed, dark eyes and pressed mouth indicated her building anger. Joseph\u2019s hopes for Ruth earning a position in their bakery deflated.<\/p>\n
Not wanting to crowd Ruth, Joseph left her side and strolled over to Mother, who gestured at Ruth as she leaned toward him. \u201cDon\u2019t let that foolish girl give you orders. No way is she working here.\u201d Despite her whispered voice, he wondered if Ruth could hear her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMother\u2026\u201d Joseph\u2019s grip on his temper slipped at Mother\u2019s imperious attitude.<\/p>\n
He eyed Ruth again. It appeared she\u2019d dumped some herbs and spices into a bowl. He wondered what she\u2019d put into the dish. She dumped the contents into the dough and her hands again kneaded the mixture. Soon, she\u2019d made four perfectly round small loaves. When she finally stood back and pressed her fists against her waist, he joined her behind the counter.<\/p>\n
\u201cI usually lets this rise for a hour. But, I knows you don\u2019t want to wait.\u201d<\/p>\n
Joseph figured Ruth knew Mother was uneasy about hiring her, and she wanted them to taste her bread as soon as possible. She took a pinch of flour and turned toward the large, beehive-shaped brick oven. Orange flames licked from the back of the baking hole. She tossed the flour into the oven. The cloud of flour floated down on the brick surface. The white powder slowly darkened from the heat. Her beautiful lips moved. He figured she was counting how long it took for the flour to brown. She then gave a little nod, took the handle of the large paddle, and shoved the loaves into the oven. Her lips continued to move silently. He wondered if she was counting, or praying\u2026or what. She cleaned up her mess on the counter and returned the bowl into the cabinet.<\/p>\n
A delicious fruity scent soon filled the kitchen. Joseph\u2019s mouth watered. He had been so busy he hadn\u2019t stopped for dinner that afternoon. The heavenly scent grew stronger, and Joseph\u2019s stomach rumbled. About twenty minutes later, Ruth lifted the paddle and quickly removed the hot, crusty loaves of bread. The dried fruit peeked through the cooked dough.<\/p>\n
He opened the cabinet and removed the butter crock. They waited for the bread to slightly cool before Joseph sliced open one of the loaves. Steam exploded from the bread, releasing more of the delicious scent. He slathered butter on two thick slices of bread and carried the extra slice to Mother.<\/p>\n
She eyed the delicious smelling bread. Her eyes sparked with curiosity. She accepted the bread and took a hearty bite.<\/p>\n
His stomach rumbled again as he bit into the bread. Heaven help him. This bread tasted amazing. The combination of fruit, nuts, and cinnamon exploded into his mouth. He closed his eyes. Melted butter dribbled down his chin. He gobbled another bite. He wiped the stray butter away with his hand. There was something else in this bread, too\u2026some other spices\u2026what were they?<\/p>\n
Mother gave him a critical glance. \u201cJoseph, don\u2019t forget your manners. You\u2019re eating like a street beggar.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stopped eating. Bristling at Mother\u2019s caustic tone, he scowled at his outspoken parent. She\u2019d eaten her entire slice of bread. He\u2019d never seen her consume such a large slice of bread so quickly. It figured she berated him for eating so fast when she\u2019d practically done the same thing.<\/p>\n
Well, he didn\u2019t need to ask Mother if she wanted to hire Ruth. He already knew how she felt by the way she eyed Ruth\u2019s tasty bread setting on the counter. Mother wanted another slice, but was too proud to say so. He was taking matters into his own hands. He focused on Ruth, coaxed her into the corner. Mother hovered, but he didn\u2019t care. He needed to get Ruth to agree to work for them before another bakery snatched her up.<\/p>\n
Her dark brown eyes appeared pensive and serious, and her pretty mouth drooped. Concern about being hired shone on her face. Well, she could stop worrying. Before he offered her the job, he had to ask her one question. \u201cWhat did you put into the bread?\u201d<\/p>\n
She blinked, focused on him. \u201cI can\u2019t tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He jerked back. \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s my secret bread. If you want more of my bread, then you gots to hire me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Well, he already knew some of the ingredients\u2026so, that was a start. But, what if he wanted to make the bread? What if Ruth were sick or delayed from coming to the bakery? How would he manage to make this bread if she wouldn\u2019t tell him what was in it? Well, he\u2019d figure all of that out later. For now, he just needed to make sure they hired Ruth. He offered his hand. \u201cRuth, would you like to work in our bakery?\u201d He mentioned the wages they\u2019d offer. Her brown, pretty eyes widened. He wasn\u2019t sure if she were pleased, or if she were upset because she wanted more money.<\/p>\n
Her face split into a huge grin as she shook his hand. \u201cYes, I accept.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mother narrowed her eyes. She approached them, pulled Joseph away from Ruth. \u201cI need to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He sighed and followed his mother into their office. He eyed the fountain pen, inkwell, and parchment papers that littered the desk. He wished Mother would solely focus on her bookkeeping duties and leave the hiring up to him. \u201cJoseph, you can\u2019t hire that girl without my permission.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just did.\u201d It was high time he stood up to Mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, you\u2019re paying her too much money.\u201d One reason their family had accumulated so much wealth was because Mother watched every penny they spent. She did the bookkeeping with a keen eye, always looking for ways to save money. \u201cThat girl is poor as they come. I can tell by the kind of clothes she\u2019s wearing. She\u2019s desperate for a job, and you could\u2019ve offered her a much lower wage. She probably would\u2019ve accepted it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head. He didn\u2019t agree, not one bit. \u201cMother, Ruth is worth every cent I offered.\u201d He wasn\u2019t going to argue with his mother about this. Sometimes, talking to her just made him so tired. He often wondered if she were so miserable she just wanted to argue for no reason. \u201cI\u2019m not a fool, Mother. You know just as much as I do that our customers will be lining up to purchase Ruth\u2019s bread.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, let me tell you something, Joseph. That girl is here to bake and nothing else.\u201d She glared at him, folded her thin arms over her chest. \u201cI saw you looking at her. If you even think about courting her, then you are a fool, the biggest fool I\u2019ve ever seen in my entire life.\u201d<\/p>\n
Joseph turned on his heel and stormed toward the door, knocking his knee against the desk. Pain shot through his joint as parchment papers scattered onto the floor. He had to get out of there. No way could he stay in Mother\u2019s presence for another minute. He limped toward the front of the bakery.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph, get back in here and pick up these papers.\u201d<\/p>\n
The scent of Ruth\u2019s delicious bread lingered in the hot air. He pushed the door open and breathed deeply, limping outside and into the sun.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph!\u201d His mother yelled from the door, but he\u2019d already limped halfway down the street. No way would she follow him. She wouldn\u2019t risk losing income by leaving the bakery unattended.<\/p>\n
He finally dropped onto a bench beneath a huge oak tree. Bright sunlight sliced through the branches as the leaves danced in the wind. A man in a black suit rushed by, checking his pocket watch. Joseph closed his eyes, tilted his face toward the sky. He rubbed his aching knee and tried to calm down. He figured if he\u2019d stayed around his mother another minute, he feared saying something he\u2019d later regret.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Read the rest of The Bakery Bride in The Underground Railroad Brides Collection<\/a>! Pre-order your copy today!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"This is the first part of Chapter 1 of my novella, The Bakery Bride, part of The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: Chapter 1 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1859 \u201cSon, when are you going to get married?\u201d Oh no, she had to go and mention that. His mother acted as if he were the only unmarried, upper-class […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[35],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3289","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cecelia-dowdys-books"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paovYP-R3","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3289","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3289"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3289\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3465,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3289\/revisions\/3465"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3289"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3289"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3289"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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