Page 40 of Under the Tulip Tree
“I carried the cage to the edge of the cornfield. When I opened the door, the robin didn’t fly away. For a moment I thought she wanted to stay with me, and that filled me with great joy. But suddenly she found the opening. I’ll never forget watching her take flight, as though she’d never beeninjured. She soared higher and higher before she finally disappeared into the woods.”
She paused a moment before adding softly, “I only wish to help thee take flight.”
The next day I let her spoon broth into my mouth. I allowed her to bathe my face and arms. She didn’t speak and neither did I, but the silence wasn’t heavy. I still couldn’t make out her face, yet I knew her hands well.
On the third day, I opened my eyes to her happy smile. “Good morning.”
She looked different than what I remembered from the day she arrived at camp. That day she’d worn a large black bonnet and a black dress. Today she wore a simple sheer day cap over her graying hair and a dark-blue dress without the adornments most white women preferred.
“Perhaps today thee will want to rise from thy bed.”
I did, but I didn’t want her to believe she had charge over me. Even in my helpless state, I refused to surrender to the whims of a white person.
While she fed me, I glanced at my surroundings, surprised to find myself in a well-made tent. It was far larger than those we slaves occupied. A curtain separated my bed from the rest of the space, but I could see past it to two cots with colorful quilts, along with several trunks and a small writing desk and chair. Boxes and crates sat neatly stacked, and I wondered at their contents.
My study of the tent continued until my breath caught,and I found myself staring at a stack of books sitting on the ground near the desk.
The Crandle woman turned to see what had captured my attention. “Ah, I see thee has noticed the books for our school.” She faced me again. “One of the most vital skills we wish to impart to freemen and -women is the ability to read and write. Some believe school is only for children, but I daresay every adult can benefit from learning their letters.”
I stared at her, not believing what I’d just heard. “You gonna teach slaves to read?”
She smiled. “Yes. Young and old alike. Reading is not only for pleasure; it will be essential to securing employment and assuring one is not being taken advantage of. There are those who don’t believe thee and thy friends should learn to read, but I am not among them.”
Memories flooded my mind, taking me back to the day the overseer found me with Charlotte’s book. I’d longed to know what the letters and printed words meant back then, yet that book had cost me dearly. Now this white woman and her kind were offering to teach slaves to read. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Would thee be interested in learning thy letters?”
My attention jerked back to her.
Although she looked nothing like my former mistress, all I could see was Miz Sadie’s wide, pale face, smirking as the overseer dragged me from the house.
“No.” I turned away, my appetite gone. “I ain’t interested in your books.”
She stood after several moments. “I understand. But if thee changes thy mind, thee is most welcome to look through them. We have some on science and history, as well as storybooks. The illustrations are quite good.”
I didn’t acknowledge her comments, and she finally turned and left me alone.
She and several other white ladies came and went from the tent throughout the day. A younger version of the Crandle woman brought me a noon meal consisting of bread soaked in milk and small bites of boiled chicken. Although my jaw was quite sore and swollen, thankfully it hadn’t broken.
Nell came to visit me that afternoon. Her gaze darted around the spacious tent before she settled on a chair next to my cot.
“Miz Crandle made the Yankees put Hank in one of their prisons.”
This news surprised me. “How’d she know it was him who beat me?”
“Someone seen him leaving the tent and come and told her. When the soldiers went looking for him, they found him with your bag.”
I chuckled, then grimaced at the pain it caused. “Guess he’s wishing he was digging them trenches right about now instead of sittin’ in a Yankee prison.”
Nell shrugged. A moment later, however, tears sprang up in her eyes. “I sorry, Frankie. It’s my fault he beat you. If I had listened to you, this woulda never happened.”
I almost reached for her but stopped myself before thepain got too bad. “It weren’t your fault, girl. He made up his own mind. Just watch yourself, you hear? Men like that are worthless. Next time it be you all bruised up, or worse.”
She nodded, then glanced into the other area of the tent. “Miz Crandle gonna start up a school. Says we all need to learn to read and write so’s we can make something of ourselves after the war ends. Sam already knows how to read real good.”
I didn’t care to discuss the school, so I settled on a new topic. “Who’s Sam?”
Nell sighed and took on a silly look in her eyes. “He be the most handsome man I ever did see. And he’s free. He come with Miz Crandle from Pennsylvania. He’s been reading to us from the Bible in the evenings. I tell you, it’s something listening to him read.”
