Page 41 of Under the Tulip Tree
A free black man. There hadn’t been many of those in Nashville before the Federals arrived. It was far too dangerous to be free in the South. You could be snatched up and taken to auction. But now that the Union Army occupied the city, quite a few freemen had turned up and were working for the army building fortifications around the city. Yet from Nell’s description of and ridiculous mooning over this one, I’d just as soon pass. I had no need for a man, free or slave, who had book learning.
I shooed her away, suddenly exhausted. Nell promised to return, no doubt still feeling guilty for bringing Hank to our tent. My eyes drifted closed and I dreamed about Charlotte’s book. I woke with a start to the dim light of dusk.
“I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am.”
The deep voice surprised me. A large figure on the other side of the curtain moved to the table. He struck a match and lit the lantern. When he lifted it, illuminating his face, I knew immediately who the man was.
Sam.
The freeman.
Nell was right. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
And I didn’t want anything to do with him.
Alden picked me up the next evening after work and drove to Frankie’s. She’d invited us to join her and Jael for supper again, and I was anxious to find out more about Sam.
“Why do you think Frankie was afraid of Sam?”
Alden maneuvered the car through the darkening streets of Hell’s Half Acre. Thick clouds had filled the sky all day, giving the neighborhood a shadowed, ominous feeling tonight despite soft light coming from windows.
He glanced at me. “What makes you think she was afraid of him?”
“I don’t believe she thought he would hurt her or anything like that, but she was definitely afraid of him.”
He chuckled. “Women are a mystery. You tell me why she was afraid.”
I grinned. “I haven’t figured it out yet.” After a moment, I sobered, remembering Moss and how he was murdered right in front of Frankie. “I’m sure it must’ve been hard to imaginehappiness after all she’d been through. She’d lost her mother, her babies, and a man she loved. I think it would be terrifying to care for anyone after all that.”
We parked in front of Frankie’s yellow house. She was waiting for us.
“Jael is helping a friend tonight with her sick little ones.” She ushered us into her small living room. I noticed the kitchen was dark.
“Mrs. Washington, we don’t want to be a bother. We can come back another time.”
“It’s no bother to have you young people here.” She winked at Alden. “Especially if you help get a meal on.”
I smiled. “We’d be happy to.” Alden echoed his agreement.
We moved to the kitchen. It was decided a meal of pancakes and fried eggs—courtesy of a neighbor’s chickens—would suit us all, and we set to work. I was surprised to find Alden quite comfortable in the kitchen. After stoking the fire to life, he volunteered to cook if we ladies would get the batter mixed, explaining that he’d often helped his mother prepare meals in the boardinghouse.
Frankie sat at the table and directed me to where the flour and other items were located. It felt a bit strange prowling through cabinets that didn’t belong to me, but she seemed unconcerned by it.
“We had flapjacks nearly every day while I was living in the contraband camp. That and watery soup. I imagine it cost the Yankees a pretty penny to feed all of us. We didn’t have no way to buy our own food, being that we’d beenslaves up until the minute the Yankees arrived. I heard there were other contraband camps around Nashville and more throughout the state. Also heard rumors that the commander of our camp was stealing food meant for us and sellin’ it at a store he opened in town.” She shook her head, disgust written on her face. “Life wasn’t pleasant in camp, but I guess I should’ve been a bit more grateful than I was at the time.”
“How long were you in the camp?” Alden asked from his place at the stove. Eggs sizzled in a large frying pan, sending out a delicious aroma.
“The Yankees marched into Nashville in February of 1862. The war ended in April 1865.”
Alden gave a low whistle. “Three years is a long time to live under those conditions.”
Frankie nodded. “It was. The tents they gave us was the sorriest things you ever did see, with black mold growin’ and holes that let in the cold, rain, or heat, depending on the time of year. Disease and sickness was rampant. Rashes, lung sickness, fevers. They even had to make a separate camp for those with smallpox. Too many folks died that shouldn’t have. But after Illa Crandle showed up, things got a mite better. She knew how to handle them Federals in order to get what she wanted.”
Frankie’s voice and expression softened. “And for reasons I’ll never understand, that woman was determined to make something of me. I just didn’t know what.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
After I healed, I thought Illa Crandle would leave me alone. I was wrong.
