Page 39 of Under the Tulip Tree
“Thy eyes are quite swollen, my dear.”
The voice was kind, yet I couldn’t place it.
Familiar sounds reached me. Conversations. Laughter. A stern command. I realized then I wasn’t on the plantation. Iwas still in the contraband camp.
“Here,” the voice said. “Have a sip of water to quench thy thirst.” Blessed moisture touched my tongue, but she took it away before I’d had my fill.
The voice of the mercy giver didn’t belong to Nell or one of the other women from camp I’d become familiar with. I tried once again to see who spoke, but the same pain prevented me from seeing anything.
A cool, damp cloth went across my forehead and down my cheeks, soft and soothing. Whoever tended me had a gentle hand. I couldn’t begin to guess who it was.
“Thy wounds shall heal, but I wonder if thy spirit shall require more from the Lord than what I can give thee.”
The words failed to make sense, and I was too weary to ponder their meaning. I hoped whoever saw to me wouldn’t leave. Despite the raw pain swirling throughout my head, oddly enough I felt safe.
I drifted to sleep and awakened again some time later to the same voice.
“I have some broth for thee, my dear.”
The stranger proceeded to carefully lift my shoulders and wedge a pillow in to prop me up. I didn’t cry out for fear she’d leave me alone. I wished I could see who the woman was because I couldn’t begin to guess. No one in camp had ever demonstrated this kind of concern for another.
“Who are you?” My hoarse voice was unrecognizable.
A soft laugh. “Eat first; then we’ll talk.”
She spooned delicious warm broth through my swollen lips until I was pleasantly sated. A sip of cool water followed.
“My name is Illa Crandle. I’m with the Religious Society of Friends in Philadelphia.”
Surprise washed over me. The white woman I’d seen on the wagon. What was she doing in my tent?
I tried to force my eyes open, but they wouldn’t respond. “What do you want with me?”
“Only to serve. Thy friend Nell found you. We brought thee here to tend thy wounds. Does thee recall what happened?”
I did.
Hank had done this to me, but I wouldn’t tell the Crandle woman. It was none of her affair. As soon as I mended, I’d get my revenge on Hank.
“Thee should rest.” I felt movement beside me and heard the rustle of her skirts as she stood. “I will return later. Perhaps thee will feel more like talking then.”
She spoke in low tones to someone nearby, but I couldn’t make out the words. I wondered what the extent of my injuries were and who else knew about the beating.
When the room grew quiet and I felt I was alone, I let my bruised body relax, but my mind swam in a murky pool of emotions. I’d been robbed and beaten by my own kind, yet a white woman caringly tended my wounds. Anger and hatred for Hank swirled through me while confusion over the Crandle woman’s kindness threatened to edge it out.
Helplessness washed over me, and I hated myself for it. Ever since the day I was sold away from Mammy, I’d despised helplessness. When overseers beat me and chased me down like an animal, I’d been helpless. When men used my bodyfor their own pleasure and babies died, I’d been helpless to prevent it from happening.
But the one thing I’d fought to maintain control over was my emotions. No one could force me to love or hate. They were mine to decide. I wasn’t about to allow this white woman to steal that away from me, no matter her attentive ministrations.
The next time she came to visit, I refused to speak or eat. I thought she would leave in a huff, but the minutes ticked by with only the soft sound of her breathing to let me know she still sat next to my cot.
Finally my taut nerves had enough. “Leave me alone.”
It seemed an absurd thing to speak into the silence, considering she hadn’t uttered a word or attempted to touch me.
More silence filled the space between us before she spoke. “When I was a girl, I found a robin with its wing broken. My father told me the poor thing would die, but I refused to accept that.” She chuckled softly. “Papa always said I was stubborn. I put the bird in a cage and tended it. By some miracle it survived. I cried the day Papa said it needed to return to the wild.”
Despite my declaration of wanting to be alone, I waited to hear the end of the story.
