Page 36 of Under the Tulip Tree
His praise and the look he gave me sent a shiver running through me.
“Well, lookee who’s come to visit.” Frankie came into the room minutes later with Jael following behind. Her dress looked slightly rumpled from her nap, but otherwise she was just as spry and alert as ever. Her gaze settled on Alden. “And you brought your young man, too.”
I was sure my face flamed red, but I nodded. “This is Alden Norwood. Alden, this is Mrs. Frances Washington.”
Frankie gave Alden a good study. “I understand you work for the same organization as Rena.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alden said. “I’ve been with the WPA over a year.”
“And what do you think about the gov’ment spending all this time and money on us former slaves?”
I held my breath. I didn’t think Alden would be caught off guard by such a direct question, but he hadn’t planned for it either.
“I believe understanding events of the past can help us make the future better for everyone. Our generation,” he said, glancing at me, “doesn’t know much about slavery. Your willingness to share your story will not only benefit us, but it will touch the lives of many people for years to come.”
After a moment, Frankie chuckled, and I breathed again.
“Young man, you should think about becoming one of them politicians that sits up yonder on the hill in that big ol’ capitol building. You’ve got the knack for saying just what a person wants to hear.”
Alden grinned, clearly at ease. “You’re not the first person to suggest that, ma’am.”
A sense of satisfaction crept over me, watching them interact.
“Have you two eaten supper?” Frankie asked.
“No, ma’am,” Alden answered before I could say a word. “Something sure smells good.”
Was he wrangling for an invitation?
“Well, you best join us then. Jael’s got a stew on the stove and corn bread in the oven. She may not know how to bake a loaf of bread, but her corn bread melts in your mouth.”
I glanced at Jael to gauge her reaction, but she simply smiled. “Mama Fran’s teaching us about bread making, though, isn’t she, Rena? Pretty soon our bread will be just as good as hers.”
We all laughed and made our way to the kitchen, as though it weren’t completely out of the ordinary for two young white people to take a meal in the Hell’s Half Acre home of a former slave. I refused to even consider what Mama would say if she were to find out.
After Jael produced two mismatched chairs from somewhere in the house, I helped her get the meal on the table while Frankie conversed with Alden.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Frankie said, motioning for Alden to take the seat across from her.
“No, ma’am. I’m from Chicago.” He smiled up at me as I set a bowl of steaming stew in front of him. He’d removed his hat, and for the first time I noticed his eyes were hazel and not brown as I’d originally thought.
“Chicago.” Frankie’s voice drew his attention away, and I returned to where Jael stood at the stove dishing up more stew. “I knew some folks who went up north after the war. They didn’t stay long. Said they nearly froze to death that first winter. They hightailed it back to Tennessee as soon as they thawed out.” Frankie nodded her thanks when I set a bowl in front of her.
Jael and I each carried our own bowls to the table.
“It’s an interesting place to live, but I must say I’m enjoying my time in Tennessee.” His gaze flicked to me, bringing a hot flush to my face. Alden picked up his spoon. “This looks delicious.”
He seemed ready to dig in when Frankie spoke. “Would you mind offering thanks, Mr. Norwood?”
It was now Alden’s face that turned bright red. “I, uh,” he stammered, more flustered than I’d ever seen him. “I don’t usually...”
Thankfully, Frankie took pity on him. “That’s quite all right, Mr. Norwood. I’ll say grace.”
I bowed my head, too embarrassed for Alden to look at him.
“Lord, we thank thee for your many blessings. I especially thank you for these fine young people you’ve gathered round my table. Bless this food to our bodies. Amen.”
Jael rose to get the corn bread while I stared down at my stew, feeling awkward.
