What does it matter if I love you? The difference lies in security. Your security. My security. If people understand that this agreement is based on affection, not obligation. I don’t care what people think. I caressed your face, reaching out to touch you. What matters to me is how I feel. And I’m feeling love for the first time in my life. I feel like someone is looking at me.
He truly sees me. Not the wheelchair. Not the disability. Not the burden. You see Elanar. And I see Josiah. Not the slave. Not the brute. The man who reads poetry, who creates magnificent iron objects, and who treats me with more kindness than any other free man. If only his father knew… It was my father who orchestrated everything. He’s the one who brought us together. Whatever happens, he’s partly responsible. I leaned forward.
Josiah, I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I understand it’s complicated and dangerous. Maybe I just feel alone and lost. But I had to tell you. He’d been silent for so long. I thought I’d ruined everything. So, I’ve loved you since our first real conversation. When you asked me about Shakespeare and really listened to my answer. When you acted like my thoughts mattered.
I’ve loved you every day since that day. Elellanar. I never thought I’d be able to tell you. Say it now. I love you. We kissed. My first kiss at 22 with a man society deemed incompatible with my life, in a library surrounded by books that would condemn our gesture. It was perfect.
But perfection doesn’t last forever in Virginia in 1856. Not for people like us. The time we spent alone. Josiah’s gaze, my smile beside him. We built a life together during those five months. Josiah approached physical intimacy the way he approached everything with me: with extraordinary gentleness, a special attention to my comfort, a respect that made me feel loved, not used. The freedom of those who believed themselves to be alone. We didn’t hear my father’s footsteps. No.
I heard the door open. Elellaner. His voice was icy. We parted abruptly. Guilty. Captured. Terrified. My father stood in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and some other emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “Father, I can explain. You’re in love with him.” “That’s not a question, it’s an accusation.” Josiah immediately collapsed to his knees. “Sir, please. It’s my fault.”
I should never have done that. Silence, Josiah. My father’s voice was disturbingly calm. He looked at me. Elellanar, is it true? Are you in love with that slave girl? I could have lied. I could have claimed that Josiah had forced me, that I was a victim. That 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 it was mutual. I initiated our first kiss. I desired this relationship. If you must punish someone, punish me. My father’s face went through a series of expressions: anger, disbelief, confusion. Finally: “Josiah, go to your room, now.”
Don’t wait for me to call you. Sir, now. Josiah left, giving me a distressed look. The door closed, leaving me alone with my father. What happened next? My father’s words in that office changed everything, but not in the way I had imagined. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” my father asked gently. “I fell in love with a good man who treats me with respect and kindness. You fell in love with property, with a slave.”
Elellaner, if this gets out, you’ll be ruined forever. People will say you’re crazy, flawed, perverse. They already say I’m problematic and unfit for marriage. What’s the difference? The difference lies in protection. I entrusted you to Josiah for his protection, not for this. You shouldn’t have brought us together in the first place.
I screamed, years of frustration rising to the surface. You shouldn’t have given me to a smart, kind, loving man if you didn’t want me to fall in love with him. I wanted you safe, out of the scandal. I am safe. Safer than ever. Josiah would rather die than let anyone hurt me. And what will happen when I die? When will the property go to your cousin? Do you think Robert will let you keep a slave husband? He’ll sell Josiah the day of my funeral and have you locked up. So set him free. Set him free.
Josias. Let’s go. We’re heading north. The North isn’t a promised land. Elellanar, a white woman with a Black man, former slave or not, will face prejudice everywhere. You find your life difficult now? Try living like an interracial couple. I don’t care. Yes, I agree.
I’m your father, and I’ve spent my life protecting you. I can’t just stand by and watch you throw yourself into a situation that will destroy you. A life without Josiah would destroy me. Don’t you understand? For the first time in my life, I’m happy. I’m loved. I’m valued 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 suddenly slumped into an armchair, looking as if he’d never aged 56. “What do you want me to do, Elanar? Let it be blessed. Accept it. I want you to understand that I love him, that he loves me, and that, no matter what happens, that won’t change.” A silence fell between us outside. The December wind rattled the windows.
Somewhere in the house, Josiah waited to learn his fate. “Never see him again.” A shiver ran down my spine. “Father, please, let me finish.” He raised his hand. I could sell him. That would be the perfect solution. Go away. Act like nothing happened. Find another way. Please, don’t do this.
But I won’t go. A glimmer of hope appeared within me. Father, I won’t go, because I’ve watched you these past nine months. During these nine months spent with Josiah, I’ve seen you smile more than in the previous fourteen years. He rubbed his face, suddenly very aged. “I don’t understand. I don’t like it. It goes against everything I’ve been taught.” But he paused. “But you’re right.”
“I’m the one who brought you together. I’m the one who created this situation. To deny that a genuine bond could form between you would be naive. So, what do you say?” “I need time to think, to find a solution that doesn’t leave any of you unhappy or devastated.” He stood up. “But Elellanar, you have to understand. If this relationship continues, he no longer belongs in Virginia, in the South, perhaps nowhere.”
Are you ready to face this reality? If it means staying with Josiah… — Yes. He nodded slowly. Then I’ll find a solution. I don’t know how yet, but I will find a solution. He left me in the library, my heart pounding, torn between hope and fear. Josiah was called back an hour later. I told him what my father had said.
He collapsed into a chair, overwhelmed with emotion. “He won’t betray me. He won’t betray you. He’s going to help us. Help us.” How? He said he would try to find a solution. Josiah buried his face in his hands and wept, deep sobs trembling with relief and disbelief. I hugged him as best I could from my wheelchair, and we clung to the fragile hope that maybe, somehow, my father would make the impossible possible. But neither of us could have foreseen what was to come. My father’s decision, two months later, would change not only our lives, but history itself. My father spent two months
We hesitated for a long time. For two months, Josiah and I lived in constant anguish, awaiting his decision. We continued our usual activities—working at the forge, reading, talking—but everything seemed provisional, dependent on the solution my father would find. At the end of February 1857, he summoned us to his study. “My decision is made,” he declared unequivocally.
We sat across from him, me in my wheelchair, Josiah perched on a small chair, holding hands despite the impropriety. “It’ll never work in Virginia, or anywhere else in the South,” my father began. “Society…” I refused. “The law strictly forbids it.” “If I keep Josiah here, even if he’s your self-proclaimed protector, the suspicions will only grow.”
Sooner or later, someone will investigate, and you’ll both be destroyed. My heart sank. It felt like a prelude to separation. Then he continued, “I’ll offer you an alternative.” He looked at Josiah. “Josiah, I’ll release you legally, officially, with documents valid in any court in the North.” I was breathless.
Elellaner, I’ll give you $50,000, enough to start your life over, and I’ll provide you with letters of recommendation to abolitionist contacts in Philadelphia who can help you settle there. You’ll release him? Yes. And you’ll let us go north together? Yes. Josiah let out a sound, somewhere between sobs and laughter. Sir, I can’t… I can’t. You can. And you will.
My father’s voice was firm, but not harsh. “Josiah, you protected my daughter better than any white man. You made her happy. You restored her confidence and her abilities, which I thought were lost forever. In return, I give her back her freedom and the woman she loves.” “Father,” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Thank you.”
Don’t thank me yet. It won’t be easy. Philadelphia has abolitionist communities that will welcome you, but you’ll still face prejudice. Elellanar, as a white woman married to a Black man. Yes, married. I’m making sure a legal marriage is performed before I leave. You’ll be ostracized by many. You’ll face financial, social, and possibly even physical hardships.
Are you sure you want this? I’m more certain than ever. Josiah. Josiah’s voice was choked with emotion. “Sir, I will dedicate the rest of my life to ensuring Elellanar never regrets this. I will protect her, I will care for her, and I will love her. I swear it.” My father nodded. So we continued. But here’s what he didn’t tell us. What we wouldn’t discover until much later.
This decision would cost him everything. The following week was a whirlwind. My father worked with lawyers to prepare Josiah’s manumission papers, documents that declared him a free man, no longer property, and authorized to travel without a pass or permission. He arranged our marriage through a kind pastor in Richmond, who officiated the ceremony in a small church with only my father and two witnesses present.
Josiah and I exchanged vows before God and the law. I changed my name to Eleanor Whitmore Freeman, keeping both my names, in honor of my father and in embracing my new life. Josiah became Josiah Freeman, a free man married to a free woman.
We left Virginia on March 15, 1857, in a private carriage my father had reserved. Our belongings fit into two trunks: clothes, books , blacksmithing tools, and the manumission papers that Josiah kept carefully. My father hugged me before we left. “Write to me,” he said. “Let me know you’re well. Let me know when you’re happy.” Yes, Papa. I know I love you too, Elanar.
Now, build yourself a life. Be happy. Josiah shook my father’s hand. Lord, I will protect her. Josiah, that’s all I ask. Of my life, sir. We traveled north, through Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware. Every mile takes us a little further from slavery and closer to freedom.
Josiah constantly expected someone to stop us, demand his papers, or question our marriage. But our papers were in order, and we crossed Pennsylvania without incident. Philadelphia in 1857 was a bustling city of 300,000 inhabitants, including a large free Black community in neighborhoods like Mother Bethl. My father’s abolitionist contacts helped us find lodgings.
A modest apartment in a neighborhood where interracial couples, though rare, were not unheard of. Josiah opened a blacksmith shop with the money my father had given him. His reputation grew quickly. He was skilled, reliable, and his imposing stature allowed him to perform work that other blacksmiths couldn’t. In less than a year, the Freeman Blacksmith Shop became one of the most successful in the district. I handled the administration: bookkeeping, customer service, and contract drafting. My education and intelligence, which Virginia society deemed useless, became essential to our success. We had our first child in November 1858: a boy we named Thomas, after my father’s middle name.
My father. He was in perfect health, flawless. And to see Josiah hold our son for the first time… To see that gentle giant cradle a tiny baby with infinite tenderness… I knew we had made the right choice. But our story doesn’t end there. What happened next? What did we discover about love… and building a legacy?
When it all became real. Four more children followed Thomas: William in 1860, Margaret in 1863, James in 1865, and Elizabeth in 1868. We raised them in freedom, taught them to be proud of their dual heritage, and enrolled them in schools that accepted Black children. In 1865, Josiah designed an orthopedic device: metal brackets attached to my legs and connected to a support around my waist.
Thanks to those orthotic insoles and crutches, I could stand, I could walk, clumsily, but truly. For the first time since I was eight, I walked. You gave me so much. I told Josiah that day, standing in our house, tears streaming down my cheeks. You gave me love, confidence, and children.
And now you’ve literally made me walk. You’ve always walked, Elaner. He watched me take my first shaky steps. I simply gave you other tools. My father visited us twice, in 1862 and 1869. He met the grandchildren, saw our house, our business, our life. He understood that we were happy, that his radical solution had worked beyond all expectations.
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