Page 74 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

I turned and saw him standing under the lamppost next to Betty Sue.

“Will you tell me why we followed that man tonight?”

I glanced back at the hotel. I was eager to go inside and find my brother’s diary. It had to be where I left it in the changing room. It just had to be. I turned to face Buford again. His kind face studied me, and I knew that I owed him an answer. He had followed Mr.Johnson no questions asked. He’d done it, I knew, because of the friendship we had built in the last few days.

“I lost my brother recently. I thought he knew how he died.”

He crinkled his brow. “And did he?”

I shook my head. “No.” I licked my lips. “But I am determined to find the answer.”

“Then I know you will find all the answers you seek.”

I wanted to hug him, but instead I gave Betty Sue’s nose a pat before going into the grand hotel.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

This late in the evening, the lobby was all but empty. The two bellmen waited at attention at the door, and a new butler stood at the base of the stairs ready to assist guests to their rooms. While Emily headed for those stairs, I put my head down and went to the hidden door. Much to my relief, it was unlocked. I slipped inside the dim servants’ hallway that was simply lit with candle sconces on the wall every three paces.

Not wanting to waste any time, I hurried down the corridor. With cold stone an arm’s length from me on either side, I felt like I was walking around the inside of a medieval castle, not in a modern hotel.

The dressing room was empty and my dress was just where I had left it. I hurried toward it and found my satchel hanging behind the dress on the hook. The book was there. I could feel it. A crude bench was against one stone wall, and holding the satchel to my chest, I slid down onto the seat. With shaky hands I opened the bag, and my brother’s diary was, in fact, inside. Relief flooded through me.

I knew that I promised Emily I would return quickly to our rooms, but I had to see what the pages said. I opened the book to the very last entry, which had been written the day before my brother died.

January 30, 1855

I know who the Reader is, but I won’t write the name in these pages. There is far too much of a risk that this diary could fall into the wrong hands. If I had the will, I would throw it into the fire. It would be much safer if no one ever read a word that I have written here. But I don’t have the will to do that. Perhaps I hope that this diary will fall into the right hands someday and be a testament to the good work that we have done.

I am the only one who knows the Reader’s identity. I will tell Jeremiah and Elmer when they return from their work tomorrow night. Until then, I will stay close to the barn and away from town. If I see the Reader in town, there is no telling what I will do. Both Mother and Willa have told me that I don’t think before I act, but in this case, I am thinking. I will stay in safety until all can be revealed.

The entry ended. Those were the last words my brother ever wrote. I knew when I combed through the diary later page by page and sentence by sentence, there still wouldn’t be any hint to the Reader’s identity. Henry would have been too careful for that. I thought of him, that last day of his life. Knowing Henry, he would have been buzzing with excitement with his discovery. He would have paced and had trouble sitting still. Anyone who saw him would have known that something was on his mind and whatever it was, it was big.

He had been wise to hide out in the stables that day, but what he hadn’t expected was for the Reader to come to him. He thought he was safe when in actuality he was trapped. I shivered.

I finally made it back to our rooms in my own dress. I knew I had taken much longer than Emily had anticipated. I had every expectation that Emily would be waiting for me tapping her foot in the parlor. When I opened the door it was Miss Lavinia who was sitting on the settee with her arms folded, not Emily.

“Where is Emily— I mean Miss Dickinson?” I asked.

Miss Lavinia scowled at me. “Do not put on a facade that you and my sister are not close enough friends that you call her by her Christian name.”

“With her permission,” I said. “I would never call her that if she didn’t suggest it.”

Miss Lavinia’s delicate features settled into her scowl, and for a moment, I could see a clear resemblance to her father. Mr.Dickinson had the strongest will in the Dickinson family, but I would put Miss Lavinia second. When their father was gone one day, it would be Miss Lavinia who would hold the family together, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the personal cost would be for her to fill that role. Would she forgo a life of her own to care for the Dickinson legacy?

“What you need to know about my sister is she is not like the rest of us. She thinks differently. She speaks differently, and she acts differently too. She does not care for conventions, church, or expectations. She makes up her own mind and makes her own way. She is more than a sister to me. She is my closest friend. She is this to me when I know that she would much prefer Susan’s company and now perhaps yours as well. Even so, I understand her best, and I will protect her fiercely.” Her gaze narrowed. “I will not let a maid lead her into trouble. I am sorry that your brother was killed, but that is your issue. It had nothing to do with the Dickinson family. Your hardship is not our hardship. It is separate from us. Stop dragging my sister, who is just looking for a little passing entertainment, into it.”

I swallowed as she finished her speech. I bit back the words that gathered on my tongue. The reason that Miss Lavinia could think my brother’s death was passing entertainment was because she personally had not retained such a blow. And she could speak to me as she did now with her father’s wealth and importance, two things that I would never have.

In the back of my mind, I heard my mother admonish me for my envy. She had believed that the good Lord provided for all in his way. We never went without a dry place to sleep and without food and water. She would remind Henry and me when we were young that we had more comforts and blessings than many other souls. “Have you not seen the Black men and women who move through town on their travels farther north?” Mother would ask us. “You do not know the hardship they have felt. I pray you never do, but do not complain that you have stale bread for another night with no butter. You have bread. That in and of itself is a blessing.”

It was hard to accept that when Miss Lavinia was speaking to me in this way though.

“Vinnie,” Emily said as she came into the room in her dressing gown. “Please do not speak to my friend Willa like that.”

Miss Lavinia spun around. “Sister, I am just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what? Myself?” Emily scoffed. “It was my idea, not Willa’s, to investigate her brother’s death. It was my idea to chase after Mr.Johnson tonight too.”

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