Page 29 of Under the Tulip Tree
“Jael, this is Rena, the gal I told you was interested in talking about slavery times.” Frankie turned to me. “This is Jael. She takes care of me.”
I stood, shuffling my notebook and pencil into one hand before I realized Jael wouldn’t be able to shake mine even if I offered. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She closed the door with her foot and came into the room. “I’m pleased to meet you as well. Mama Fran can’t talk ’bout nothin’ else but this here interview you’re doing.”
“Can I help with your bags?”
Jael nodded. “That’d be nice.” She handed me one ofthe paper sacks before turning to Frankie. “They’s all out of bacon, Mama Fran, but they had some ham steaks that looked good.”
Frankie nodded. “Guess we’ll cook some beans then. You get ’em soaking while Rena and I finish up; then we’ll have a bite to eat.”
Jael disappeared into the kitchen. I hadn’t thought to bring a sandwich with me, considering my hasty exit from the house. I didn’t want to be a bother. “I should probably go and let you get on with your day.”
Disappointment flashed in Frankie’s eyes. “I ain’t got anything pressing to get done. When you reach my age, just rising out of bed is an accomplishment. But if you need to go, I won’t keep you.”
I held no desire to return home and face Mama just yet. Besides, I hadn’t figured out how I’d get to the streetcar stop. Despite Frankie’s insistence that Billy and the others were harmless, I wasn’t brave enough to attempt walking through the infamous neighborhood alone again.
“If you’re sure, I’d like to continue the interview.”
Frankie nodded and settled back in her chair. “I don’t like remembering the bad times, but the Lord has a way of using them to get you to where he wants you to go.”
I carried the groceries to the kitchen, where Jael instructed me to set them on the table. I returned to the living room and took up my pencil and notebook again, pondering the bit of wisdom Frankie had just imparted.
Was that the key to her surviving slavery? Believing Godhad a purpose in the midst of the pain? If so, how had she come by it?
“After the beating and Moss’s death, I gave up on life. I wouldn’t eat nothin’, no matter what Bessy tried to poke down me. Ophelia and the others would’ve let me die, I guess, but Bessy fretted over me like a mama hen and eventually managed to get some broth in me.” She stared off to the distance for a moment, remembering. “I can’t recall how many days passed, but one afternoon Master came down to the quarter to see me. He cursed when he entered the cabin and found me lying in my own filth. Said he’d paid good money for me and wasn’t about to let me die and waste it.”
I wrote her words, disgusted by the man who’d owned her. Surely his heart had been made of stone.
“The next day Bessy and Ophelia washed me and got me into a clean dress. Soon as they was done, the overseer and another white man carried me to a wagon. I figured they’d dug a hole somewhere and planned to put me in it, but instead they drove me to Nashville to the slave market.”
My head shot up. “The slave market? What’s that?”
Frankie frowned. “The market was a place where us slaves was auctioned off. It was down on Cedar Street. We had to stand on a high platform while white men bid on the one they wanted to buy. Some of the big, strong men went for a thousand dollars or more, but I was so scrawny and weak, no one wanted me. I stood there in shame as the man in charge of the auction kept lowering the price, convincing me of my worthlessness.”
A gasp came from the kitchen doorway.
“Mama Fran, you ain’t worthless.” Jael rushed to Frankie and embraced her. I’d forgotten the young woman was in the next room, no doubt listening to the troubling tale.
“I know that, baby girl.” Frankie smoothed Jael’s curly shoulder-length hair in the same way she’d smoothed mine earlier that morning. “I know that now, but I didn’t then.”
Jael moved to where she could look at Frankie, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I didn’t know how much you suffered, Mama Fran.”
Frankie patted her cheek and gave a brave smile. “Better me than you, baby girl.” Her gaze returned to me. “About the time I thought no one would buy me, a short man in a tall hat bid ten dollars. Mr. Waters owned a big wholesale grocery business in downtown Nashville, right off Market Street, and needed someone to clean the warehouse and offices.”
Jael settled on the floor, clutching Frankie’s deformed hand, listening.
“I never would’ve dreamed it, but that man saved my life.” Frankie chuckled. “He was a strange little man, but he wasn’t cruel. He set me up in my own shed behind the warehouse. It had a small stove and a cot to sleep on. Twice a week a house slave would arrive with enough food meant to last me until he showed up again. I gained my strength back and determined I’d be a good worker for Mr. Waters rather than causing trouble like I’d done in the past.”
“Were you happy there?” Jael asked.
I never would have dared to ask such a thing, but I had to admit I was curious to hear Frankie’s answer.
She pursed her lips. “I can’t say I was happy, but some of the anger and fire that had been a part of me was gone. Whether it was beat out of me or got buried deep inside, I didn’t know. I kept to myself mostly and didn’t speak to the warehouse workers much. At first, Mr. Waters locked the shed at night to make sure I didn’t run off. After a while he must’ve decided he could trust me, because he left it unlocked and even allowed me to run errands for him. I’d never seen a city before, and I’d stare up at the tall buildings and all the white people wandering the streets.”
Her gaze met mine. “I ’spect I would’ve stayed with Mr. Waters forever had the Federal Army not shown up and changed everything.”
The three of us sat at the small table in Frankie’s kitchen, eating cold fried chicken and slices of bread spread with sweet butter.
