UNBROKEN PROMISE

~13~ church

Oma's POV

Sunday had finally come-the day I had dreaded all week. It was the first Sunday since I arrived, and that meant going to church. I wasn't ready. Not for the townspeople's judgmental stares or the whispers that would surely start the moment we walked in. And certainly not for the questions swirling around in their minds about why someone like me would be standing next to a man like Logan.

I woke up early, before the sun rose, hoping that if I got ready quickly enough, I could shake off the nerves that had been building since the night before. My hands were trembling as I pulled on my dress-the one Mama Becca had helped me pick out. The cotton felt stiff, and my stomach churned with anxiety. I tried not to think too much about it, but it was hard not to. I kept wondering what they would see when they looked at me-what they would think.

I was a brown baby, that was the first thing about me that usually caught people's attention.
My papa had always told me I was special but I knew what he meant by that it was a way of trying to make the fact that up sound better.

I rushed to the bathroom, hoping I could get rid of this sick, nervous feeling in my stomach.when I entered the bathroom i suddenly felt the need to thank the lord that logan coukd actually afford a water closet and i didn't have to go out to use an outhouse. I sat there for a good half hour, but nothing happened. My nerves were too knotted up for my body to relax. I stood, sighing in frustration, and freshened up quickly before heading downstairs.

Logan was already waiting for me by the door, calm and steady like always. His presence felt like an anchor in a sea of nerves and doubt. I envied how he never seemed to let anything rattle him.

"Y'ready?" he asked, his drawl thick and familiar, as he adjusted his hat, glancing at me with that calm, steady gaze.

I nodded, though the truth was, I wasn't ready. My heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure he could hear it.

As we climbed into the wagon, Logan turned to me, his dark eyes meeting mine. "Listen," he said, his voice low and slow, "y'gon hear some things today. Folks might run their mouths, try an' get under yer skin. Don't let 'em. Y'understand?"

I nodded again, though I wasn't so sure how I could just ignore it. The words always seemed to cut too deep, no matter how hard I tried to pretend they didn't.

"Don't you worry 'bout what folks say 'bout ya. They's gon talk, but you ain't got nothin' to prove. Hold yer head high, y'hear?" His voice softened a bit as he spoke, but the seriousness in his words hung in the air.

"I'll try," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I really could.

Logan gave me a nod, turning his focus back to the road as we headed toward town. The ride felt longer than usual, every bump in the dirt road rattling my nerves. By the time we got to the small, whitewashed church, my heart was in my throat.

People were already gathered outside, chatting in little groups, their Sunday best on display. I could feel their eyes on me the moment we stepped out of the wagon. Logan walked beside me, his hand resting lightly on my back in a comforting gesture. But no matter how close he was, I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't belong. I knew what they were thinking-what they were saying, even if I couldn't hear it.

She's a brown baby

As we stepped into the church, I kept my head down, eyes focused on the floor. The sermon and hymns passed in a blur. I couldn't concentrate on a single word. All I could think about was the weight of everyone's eyes, the whispering behind me, the looks I was getting.

When the service ended, the townsfolk spilled out into the churchyard, laughing and chatting as if nothing had happened. I stayed close to Megan, who was kind enough to introduce me to a few of the women she knew. Their smiles were polite, but the suspicion and judgment in their eyes were impossible to miss.

One of the women, tall and bony with her hair piled high under her bonnet, narrowed her eyes at me. "So, this is her," she said, her voice thick with a West Virginia twang. "I still cain't quite figure out why a man like Logan would go and spoil his bloodline. Ain't no sense in mixin' with... well, you know."

Her words felt like a slap, but I kept my head down, letting the sting wash over me. I was used to it by now. Back home, people had said worse things to my face.

Before Megan could defend me Logan met us just in time

"Well, don't reckon it's any o' yer business now, is it?" Logan's voice cut through the air like a knife, making the woman and her friends stiffen. He stepped up beside me, tipping his hat to the women. "Y'all have a nice day," he added, his tone polite but sharp. Then, without another word, he gently took my hand, leading me away from the crowd and toward the wagon.

Jose who was with Logan took Megan's hand and led her to their own wagon.

We didn't speak as he helped me into the seat, climbing in beside me before taking the reins and urging the horses forward. The churchyard faded behind us, the sound of the wagon wheels on gravel filling the silence. My heart was still racing from the woman's words, but Logan's quiet presence beside me kept me grounded.

He didn't speak for a while, just watching the road ahead. Then, after a few minutes, he glanced at me, his face unreadable. "You did good," he said quietly.

I blinked, surprised. "I didn't do anything," I mumbled, staring down at my hands.

Logan shook his head slightly, his eyes still on the road. "That's what I mean. Ya didn't rise to it. Takes strength not t'say nothin'. Folks like that? They's lookin' for a reaction. You give 'em one, they win."

I wasn't sure I agreed. It didn't feel like strength. It felt like weakness-like I'd just let them walk all over me just like I always did. But I didn't argue. I just nodded, feeling a little lighter knowing that, in Logan's eyes, I hadn't let him down.

As we rode back toward the farm, the sun hanging low in the sky, my mind kept on playing different scenarios alike to what happed at church. It made me remember my childhood a bit and all the nagging I got from kids my age at school, the white kids thinking I'm to black for them and the black kids thinking I might as well be white. No one will ever truly understand what it meant to be a brown baby and not having a race your own.