Page 49 of Under the Tulip Tree
“Best you not listen to tittle-tattle, girl. Nor spread it.”
We sat in silence before Nell continued the conversation. “Why don’t you like Sam? Ain’t no one nicer than him.”
I didn’t want to discuss Sam with anyone, let alone Nell. But I knew she wouldn’t leave it alone, so I decided to be honest. “I don’t like him because I think he’s fake. I think he’s like one of them porcelain dollies with a painted-on smile.” I gave her a pointed look. “Just like Hank.”
Nell shook her head. “Oh no, Frankie. Sam ain’t nothin’ like Hank.”
“How would you know? You couldn’t tell Hank was a good-for-nothing when he was laying on top of you.”
Hurt crossed Nell’s face. “Maybe not, but I know Sam ain’t anythin’ like him. You should come to the Bible readings hegives. It ain’t just for those of us takin’ lessons at the school.”
Nell and the others talked nonstop about the readings when Sam first arrived. They discussed fascinating stories I’d never heard of, with floods and kings and healings, but I refused to join them each night after supper. While a crowd gathered around Sam and his black book, I went back to the tent to fall into bed after a long day of scrubbing and pressing officers’ clothes.
Sometime after Nell’s and my discussion, curiosity got the better of me. When a group gathered around Sam after supper, I hung near the back, hoping to go unnoticed. I had to admit it was something special to hear a black man read.I never thought I’d live to see a day like such, and it brought up feelings I didn’t want to contend with.
The next day, Sam came to me while I was up to my elbows in a tub of hot, sudsy water.
“Miss Frankie,” he said, twisting his hat around in his hands and acting more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “I has something to say.”
I straightened and wiped my hands on my apron. “Go on then. I’s busy and can’t stand around jawing all afternoon.”
He nodded, then took a big breath. “You ain’t gonna like this much. I keep tellin’ the Lord he’s made a mistake, but he ain’t backing down.”
I frowned. Had he gotten into the whiskey some soldiers illicitly sold to folks in the contraband camp? I’d never known Sam to be a drinking man, but he was sure acting soused. “What foolishness are you talkin’ about?”
“Ain’t foolishness, Frankie. When I was back in Philadelphia, the Lord told me I’d find my wife in Tennessee.”
My eyes widened. Surely he didn’t mean—
“And I have.” His gaze landed on me.
I took a step back, worried he might try to grab me.
“But the thing is,” he went on, as serious as one could be, “I don’t want to get married until we’re free. Truly free.”
“I thought you were free,” I said, although I hadn’t intended to enter the crazy conversation at all.
He nodded. “I declared myself free when I escaped from the plantation and made it to Philadelphia. But if my former master found me now, he’d have the legal right to take meon back as his slave. Same as you. Same as all these folks.” Distress filled his face. “It ain’t true freedom, what we have now, Frankie. If the Yankees lose this here war, I ’spect it’ll mean trouble for us. We could hightail it north, but that won’t solve the real issue. I want us to start our new life together as man and wife as afreeman and woman.”
While I couldn’t fault him for his convictions, I was not the woman for him.
“That all sounds fine and good, but you best keep looking for that wife. I ain’t never getting married.”
A slow smile curled his lips. “You can argue with me, Frankie, but you can’t argue with the Lord.”
I watched him walk away, a feeling in the pit of my stomach that Sam knew something I didn’t. It wasn’t a good feeling at all.
Fall turned to winter, and life in the camp wore on. Every so often I’d find a gift from Sam lying on my cot or beside the container of lye soap in the laundry area. Just small things at first. A pretty maple leaf. An extra hunk of cheese wrapped in cloth. Nell swooned when she discovered he’d left me a pair of warm gloves.
“That man be crazy in love with you, Frankie.” She sighed. “I wish someone would love me like that.”
Usually I rebuked such talk. I didn’t like discussing Sam, mostly because I didn’t want anyone to know my feelings toward him had softened since he’d declared he was going to marry me. Truth be told, I sometimes found a secret smile on my lips when I considered the prospect. But more oftenthan not, fear gripped my insides when our eyes met across the camp and Sam sent me his special smile. It wasn’t the big grin he wore when talking with others. It was softer, less showy. Intimate.
What if I gave my heart to Sam and something terrible happened to him? If the Confederates won the war, none of us slaves would be free. Who knew where we might end up when it was all over. I couldn’t bear watching him sold away—or worse. No, it was best to keep my distance. To keep telling myself and everyone else that I didn’t care about Sam. Maybe if I said it enough, my ol’ fool heart would listen.
Christmas Day arrived, bright sunshiny but cold as ice. Everyone had the day off, and we enjoyed a fine dinner of roasted wild goose and turnips provided for us by Illa’s Friends Society. After such a big meal, I thought to take a walk and stretch my legs. When Sam appeared by my side, I couldn’t refuse his company on a joyous day like this one.
“I dream about celebrating Christmas in my own home someday,” he said, surprising me with his sentimental thoughts. I’d never once considered such a thing. Christmas had always been for white people.
