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“I believe that beauty in memory is eternal. The object itself may fade, but the memory of beauty remains.”
What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?
She was silent for a moment. Then: “Yesterday at the forge, covered in soot, sweating, laughing as you hammered that nail. It was beautiful.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Josiah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“No.” I moved the wheelchair closer to where he was sitting. “Say it again.”
“You were beautiful. You are beautiful. You have always been beautiful, Elellanar. The wheelchair doesn’t change that. The broken legs don’t change that. You are intelligent, kind, brave, and, yes, physically beautiful.” Her voice grew prouder. “The twelve men who rejected you were blind idiots. They saw a wheelchair and stopped looking. They didn’t see you. They didn’t see the woman who learned Greek just because she could, who read philosophy for pleasure, who learned to forge iron despite having broken legs. They didn’t see any of this because they didn’t want to.”
I reached out and took his hand, his huge, scarred hand, capable of bending iron, but holding mine as if it were made of glass. “Do you see me, Josiah?”
“Yes, I see you all. And you are the most beautiful people I have ever met.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Dangerous words. Impossible words. A white woman and a black man enslaved in Virginia in 1856. There was no room in society for what I felt.
“Ellaner,” he said carefully. “You can’t. We can’t. If anyone knew, they would…”
“What would they want? We already live together. My father already married me to you. What difference does it make if I love you?”
“The difference is safety. Your safety. My safety. If people think this arrangement is dictated by affection rather than obligation.”
“I don’t care what people think.” I stroked his face with my hand, reaching out to touch him. “I care what I feel. And for the first time in my life, I feel love. I feel someone sees me. Really sees me. Not the wheelchair. Not the disability. Not the burden. You see Ellanar. And I see Josiah. Not the slave. Not the brute. The man who reads poetry, creates wonderful things with iron, and treats me with more kindness than any free man has ever had.”
“If your father knew.”
“My father arranged everything. He brought us together. Whatever happens, it’s partly his fault.” I leaned forward. “Josiah, I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I understand it’s complicated and dangerous. Maybe I’m just lonely and confused. But I needed to tell you.”
He was silent for so long. I thought I’d ruined everything. Then: “I’ve loved you since our first real conversation. When you asked me about Shakespeare and actually listened to my answer. When you treated me like my thoughts mattered. I’ve loved you every day since then, Elellanar. I never thought I’d say that.”
“Say it now.”
“I love you.”
We kissed. My first kiss at 22, with a man who, according to society, shouldn’t have existed for me, in a library surrounded by books that would condemn what we were doing. It was perfect.
But perfection doesn’t last long in Virginia in 1856. Not for people like us.
For five months, Josiah and I lived in a bubble of stolen happiness. We were cautious, never showing affection in public, maintaining the facade of devoted protégé and designated guardian. But in private, we were simply two people in love.
My father either didn’t notice, or chose not to. He saw that I was happier, that Josiah was attentive, that the situation was working. He didn’t question the time we spent alone. The way Josiah looked at me, the way I smiled in his presence.
In those five months, we built a life together. I continued to learn the art of blacksmithing, creating increasingly complex pieces. He continued to read, devouring books from the library. We talked incessantly about our dreams of a world where we could be together openly, about the impossibility of those dreams, about how to find joy in the present despite the uncertainty of the future.
And yes, we became intimate. I won’t go into the details of what happens between two people in love. But I will say this: Josiah approached physical intimacy the same way he approached everything with me, with extraordinary sensitivity, attentive to my well-being, with a reverence that made me feel loved and not used.
By October, we had created our own world within the impossible space society had forced us into. We were happy in a way neither of us could have ever imagined possible.
Then my father discovered the truth and everything fell apart.
December 15, 1856. Josiah and I were in the library, lost in each other, kissing with the freedom of those who believe they are alone. We didn’t hear my father’s footsteps. We didn’t hear the door open.
“Elellaner.” His voice was icy.
We broke apart abruptly. Guilty. Exposed. Terrified. My father stood in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock, anger, and something else I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Father, I can explain.”
“You’re in love with him.” Not a question, but an accusation.
Josiah immediately knelt down. “Lord, please. It’s my fault. I never should have…”
“Silence, Josiah.” My father’s voice was dangerously calm. He looked at me. “Elellanar, is it true? Are you in love with this slave?”
I could have lied. I could have claimed that Josiah had raped me, that I was a victim. It would have saved me and condemned Josiah to torture and death. I couldn’t.
“Yes, I love him and he loves me. And before you threaten him, know that the feeling is mutual. I was the one who initiated our first kiss. I was the one who sought this relationship. If you have to punish someone, punish me.”
My father’s face went through a series of expressions: anger, disbelief, confusion. Finally: “Josiah, go to your room immediately. Don’t come out until I send for you.”
“Gentleman-”
“No.”
Josiah left, casting me one last anguished look. The door closed, leaving me alone with my father. What happened next? My father’s words in that study changed everything, but not in the way I expected.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?” my father asked in a low voice.
“I fell in love with a good man who treats me with respect and kindness.”
“You fell in love with property, a slave. Elellaner, if this got out, you’d be ruined beyond repair. They’d say you were crazy, flawed, perverse.”
“They’re already saying I’m a problematic person and unsuitable for marriage. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is in protection. I gave you to Josiah to protect you, not… not for this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought us together.” I was screaming, years of frustration finally spilling out. “You shouldn’t have married me off to someone intelligent, kind, and sweet if you didn’t want me to fall in love with him.”
“I wanted you to be safe, not at the center of a scandal.”
“I’m safe. Safer than I’ve ever been. Josiah would rather die than let anyone hurt me.”
“And what will happen when I die? When the inheritance passes to your cousin? Do you think Robert will let you keep a slave husband? He’ll sell Josiah the very day I’m buried and lock you up in some institution.”
“Then release him. Release Josiah. Let’s go. We’ll go north. Will—”
“The North is not a promised land, Elellanar. A white woman with a black man, former slave or not, will face prejudice everywhere. Think your life is difficult now? Try living as an interracial couple.”
“I am not interested.”
“Well, yes. I’m your father, and I’ve spent your whole life trying to protect you, and I won’t let you get into a situation that will destroy you.”
“Being without Josiah will destroy me. Don’t you understand? For the first time in my life, I’m happy. I’m loved. I’m appreciated for who I am, not for what I can’t do. And you want to take all of that away from me because society says it’s wrong.”
My father sank into a chair, suddenly looking his full 56 years. “What do you want me to do, Ellanar? Bless him? Accept him?”
“I want you to understand that I love him, that he loves me, and that no matter what you do, that won’t change.”
Outside, silence reigned between us. The December wind rattled the windows. Somewhere in the house, Josiah waited to learn his fate.
Finally my father spoke, and what he said shocked me more than anything that had happened before. “I could sell him,” my father said softly. “Send him to the Deep South. Make sure I never see him again.”
My blood ran cold. “Father, please…”
“Let me finish.” He raised a hand. “I could sell it. That would be the right solution. Separate you. Pretend it never happened. Find you somewhere else.”
“Please don’t do that.”
“But I won’t.” A glimmer of hope flashed in my chest. “Father?”
“I won’t do it because I’ve watched you these past nine months. I’ve seen you smile more in nine months with Josiah than in the previous fourteen years. I’ve seen you become confident, capable, happy. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.” He rubbed his face, suddenly looking ancient. “I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. It goes against everything I was raised to believe. But…” He paused. “But you’re right. I brought you together. I created this situation. Denying that you would form a genuine connection was naive.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I need time to think, to find a solution that won’t leave you both unhappy or destroyed.” He stood up. “But Elellanar, you have to understand. If this relationship continues, there’s no place for it in Virginia, in the South, maybe anywhere. Are you ready to face that reality?”
“If it means being with Josiah, yes.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll find a way. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’ll find a way.”
He left me in the library, my heart pounding, hope and fear clashing inside me. Josiah was called back an hour later. I told him what my father had said. He slumped into a chair, overwhelmed.
“He has no intention of selling me. He has no intention of selling you. He will help us.”
“How can we help you?”