By the time we crossed into Tennessee, something had shifted between us. We weren’t master and former slave anymore. We weren’t even just traveling companions. We were two people who’d begun to genuinely care about each other.
It was Delilah who first voiced it. We’d stopped to rest in a barn we’d found abandoned. It was raining hard outside and we decided to wait out the storm.
“Thomas, can I ask you something personal?”
“Of course.”
“When we get north, when I’m free… what happens then between us? I mean, I’ve been thinking about the same question.”
“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find you a place to live, help you get settled, find you work… maybe I’ll stay nearby in case you need help, but you’ll be free to make your own choices.”
“What if…” She hesitated. “What if my choice is to stay with you?”
My heart skipped. “Delilah, you don’t owe me anything. I didn’t help you escape expecting—”
“I know that, but what if it’s not about owing? What if it’s about wanting?”
“I don’t understand.”
She moved closer. “Thomas, over these past two weeks, I’ve gotten to know you. Really know you. Not as Master Thomas, not as the judge’s defective son, but as Thomas the person. And that person is kind and intelligent and brave in ways he doesn’t even recognize.”
“I’m not brave. I’m weak and sickly.”
“And you gave up everything to help me. You risked imprisonment and death. You’re traveling through hostile territory to bring me to freedom. That’s not weakness. That’s courage.”
“Delilah, even if you feel this way now, you might feel differently when you have real freedom. When you can make choices without desperation or gratitude clouding your judgment.”
“Then let me make this choice now—clearly and freely as I can.” She took my hand. “When we get north, I want to stay with you. Not as your property, not as your servant, not out of obligation, but as your partner, your companion. Maybe even…” she hesitated. “…maybe even more than that if you’d want it.”
“You can’t want that. I’m sterile. I can’t give you children. I can barely give you physical affection. My body is so weak and underdeveloped that I don’t even know if I could…”
“Thomas, stop. I don’t care about children. I don’t care about your body. I care about you. The person who reads philosophy and treats me like an equal. Who listens when I talk. Who sees me as human. That’s what I want.”
“People will judge us. A white man and a black woman together… it’s illegal in most places. Even in the north, we’ll face prejudice.”
“I’ve faced prejudice my whole life. At least this way, I’d face it with someone I choose to be with rather than someone who owns me.”
I looked at her, this strong, intelligent, beautiful woman who somehow, impossibly, seemed to want to be with me. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
We kissed there in that abandoned barn, rain drumming on the roof. Two people from completely different worlds finding something neither had expected to find.
We reached Cincinnati in early June, having traveled for nearly 2 months. The city was bustling, crowded, full of free black people and abolitionists and escaped slaves building new lives. I used some of my remaining money to rent a small house in a neighborhood where interracial couples, while uncommon, weren’t unheard of.
We presented ourselves as husband and wife: Thomas and Delilah Freeman. Freeman because Delilah had no last name as a slave, and she chose that one for its obvious symbolism.
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