My Liza

Chapter 1

"I picked this up in town for you."

Nick handed the letter out to his older brother, who was working at the desk in the library. Jarrod was a bit surprised. He didn't get much personal mail, and the professional mail he got usually came to the office. Jarrod took the letter and looked at the postmark. New Orleans. He didn't know anyone in New Orleans.

Nick headed for the whiskey while Jarrod opened the letter. Jarrod read silently, but Nick could tell by the way he straightened that this was not just a newsy hello letter.

Jarrod read –

Dear Jarrod –

Please do not throw this letter away without reading it. It is very important.

I have been performing at various venues in the South – where you said I belong. I have made a very successful career for myself, so much so that I can afford my own dresser. I have hired a negro woman named Liza Bowman. She's been working for me for more than a year, but she has only begun to tell me about her past.

She is about our age, born a slave on a plantation near Danville, Virginia. When she was only ten years old, she was sold away as a house servant to a man in Maryland. She has told me what she remembers about her life in Virginia, and as she told me, I pressed her for more.

She remembers her mother and father were named Belinda and Silas. Jarrod, when she told me her father's name, I immediately thought of your houseman. It's not just the name. I know I only saw your houseman very briefly when I was there, but I remember his eyes. Liza's eyes remind me of his.

I've told Liza about your houseman, and she is curious, but cautious. We have talked and she's told me about some other things from the time before she was taken from her family. She remembers two younger brothers but doesn't remember their names. She remembers she worked in the house with her parents, mostly as a servant for the master's daughter. She remembers she used to sing and dance for the master's family. She remembers that once she got too close to the fireplace and suffered a burn on her left arm. She has a scar right about where you have that scar on your left forearm, only hers is on the inside of the arm. She also has a scar on her upper back, from where the master's daughter hit her for some reason she can't remember.

Jarrod, this is so important. Please get back to me as soon as you can. If your Silas is my Liza's father, reuniting them would be the most wonderful thing that could happen. Please talk to Silas, and either write or wire me, care of the Bourbon Street Theatre in New Orleans. I will be here for at least one more month.

With love, Julia

Jarrod stood up, still reading the letter. Then he just stood there, looking away, digesting what it said. Nick took a swig of his whiskey and looked Jarrod's way. He saw the look in his older brother's eyes that told him he was thinking hard about what he'd just read.

"What is it?" Nick asked.

Jarrod looked up at Nick and held the letter out to him. "Take a look at this."

Nick took the letter and began to read. Jarrod came out from behind the desk and walked slowly toward the fireplace. He rested his arm on the mantle, still thinking.

Nick finished reading and looked almost as shocked as Jarrod felt. Nick came over to him. "What do you make of this?" Nick asked and handed the letter back.

Jarrod took it. "I don't know. My first thought is to run and find Silas, but my second thought says to speak to Mother first. I've never talked to Silas about his family. Have you?"

"No," Nick said. "I don't know if Mother has talked to him much about it, either. Father, maybe, but I don't know about Mother."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Helping Silas with dinner."

Jarrod made a face. He didn't want Silas to know about this, not yet anyway.

"I'll go get her," Nick said, "tell her you need to see her about something."

"Yeah," Jarrod said as Nick went out. Then he read the letter again.

If this woman were Silas's daughter – my God, after all these years, to have his daughter find him. Jarrod was only ten years old when Silas came to them, so Jarrod knew for a fact he hadn't seen any of his family for more than twenty-five years. To think that by some twist of fate, Julia Saxon had come across Silas's lost daughter - it was beyond belief.

Victoria came in with Nick right behind her. "Did you need me for something, Jarrod?" she asked right away.

Jarrod gave her the letter, saying, "Read this, Mother."

He and Nick waited while she read, and when she sank into the sofa while she was still reading, the men looked at each other. Nick went to the refreshment table, lifted the bottle of scotch for Jarrod to see – a silent question: do you want a drink? Jarrod nodded.

Nick poured and brought Jarrod the glass. Jarrod nodded his thanks and sat down in the armchair across from the sofa, while Nick poured himself another drink.

Victoria looked up. "This is unbelievable."

"I know," Jarrod said. "Do you know if it's got any truth to it?"

Victoria shook her head. "Your father knew Silas's background, but I never did. As the years went by, it just seemed less and less important. I think you should talk to Silas about this, Jarrod."

"Alone?" Jarrod asked.

Victoria nodded. "I don't think he'd be comfortable talking about his past with all of us around him, and he wouldn't be comfortable talking to me at all. It's for men to talk about." She passed the letter back to Jarrod.

"The sooner, the better, I'd say," Nick said.

"Why don't I take over making dinner, Jarrod?" Victoria said. "Take Silas aside somewhere now, talk to him. Decide between the two of you what you think you should do."

Jarrod got up as his mother did, nodding, downing his scotch and leaving the glass on the coffee table. Without further words Victoria and Jarrod went into the kitchen. Silas was cutting vegetables up at the table. He looked up when they came in.

Jarrod said, "Silas, I'd like a minute with you. Mother will take over here for a bit."

"Of course, Mr. Jarrod," Silas said, but he looked nervous. He hadn't heard words like that since long before Tom Barkley died. Silas was worried he had done something wrong.

But Jarrod led him out the back door, saying, "Nothing's wrong, Silas. I just need to talk to you for a minute."

They stepped outside, on to the back veranda, and stood there together. Jarrod wondered how he was going to approach this subject without sounding like he was doing a cross examination of a witness.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Jarrod?" Silas asked.

"Trust me on this for a minute, Silas," Jarrod ended up saying. "I know what I'm about to ask you is very private and probably very difficult, but just believe me, it's very important. I need to ask you some things about your personal history."

Silas looked even more uncomfortable.

Jarrod said, "Please believe me, old friend, this may be tough for you but it may be well worth it. When you were a slave, you were married, weren't you?"

"Not like white folks were married, but yes, I had a wife," Silas said.

"What was her name?"

Silas swallowed. It still hurt to talk about this. "Belinda. Her name was Belinda."

"And children?"

"Three – a daughter and then two sons."

Jarrod felt his pulse getting faster. "What was your daughter's name?"

Silas smiled. "Liza."

"She'd be about my age, wouldn't she?" Jarrod asked.

"Why, yes, she would."

"Silas, what happened to her?"

Silas swallowed again and for a moment started to cry. But he got himself together and said, "She was sold away, up to Maryland."

"You were in Virginia."

"Yes, sir, near Danville."

Jarrod found himself swallowing. He felt like he was going to cry, totally involuntarily. A couple more questions and he might know the truth. "Silas, how old was she when she was sold?"

"About nine or ten. Mr. Jarrod, what is this about?"

"Just a couple more questions, Silas. Did she have any scars you know of, from injuries?"

"Yes, sir. She had a burn mark on her arm, near where you have yours. And she had a cut mark on her back."

Jarrod felt like laughing and crying at the same time. He grabbed Silas by the shoulders, unable to help himself.

"Mr. Jarrod, what is this about?" Silas asked again.

"Silas – do you remember Julia Saxon?"

"That woman who got you beat up so bad? Yes, sir, I remember." Silas was noticeably mad about that.

Jarrod smiled. "Silas, my old friend, she just sent me a letter about a negro woman who works for her. Silas, I'm pretty sure this woman is your daughter Liza."