Page 50 of Under the Tulip Tree
“What would you have?”
He grinned. “We’llhave us a big tree, tied with pretty ribbons and candles. There’ll be presents under the tree for all the chillens.”
I stopped walking. “All the chillens? How many young’uns you planning to have?”
“As many as the Lord gives us.”
I let the comment pass. He’d taken to usingusandwewhen he talked about the future. It aggravated me at first, especially when he accompanied it by saying the Lord told him such and such about me and him. But over the months, I’d grown used to it, and it didn’t bother me as much. I still didn’t plan on marrying the crazy man, but I’d come to the conclusion he was harmless.
We climbed halfway up the hill behind the camp. The fort the army built lay at the top. We stopped and looked out over Nashville. From our vantage point, it looked like a completely different city than the one I’d lived in after Mr. Waters bought me. Most of the trees were gone, having been used to build several forts and barricades to protect the city from attack. Rumors constantly circulated about the Confederates’ determination to retake Nashville, but other than an isolated skirmish now and then, they hadn’t come close enough to try. Still, despite the daily demands and drudgery of camp life, the future seemed precarious. Nothing was certain.
“I have something for you, Frankie.”
Sam’s voice drew me from my thoughts. I turned to find him holding a small paper-wrapped parcel tied with string.
“I can’t—”
“Now, before you go and start an argument, let me tell you the story behind this gift.”
I hid my smile. He knew me so well already.
“When I first got to Philadelphia, I was full of confidence. I’d escaped slavery and beaten the odds. I tried to get work, but no one would hire me. Day after day I searched for a job,but nothing turned up. Soon, I was starving, but I couldn’t bring myself to steal like some escaped slaves did to survive. It was near Christmastime, and I didn’t have nowhere to sleep. I feared I’d freeze to death if I stayed still too long, so I started walking, not knowing where I was going. It got dark, and I crawled up on the steps of a building to get out of the snow.”
He glanced up to the clear sky, no doubt thankful for warm sunshine on his face now. “Turns out it was the home of Miz Annabelle Gaddis. She was a Quaker woman, like Miz Illa. She took me in and had her cook set me down to a meal. There were servants aplenty, but she offered me a job to earn my keep. On Christmas Day, she gave me this.” He handed the parcel to me. “Said someday it would mean more to me than silver or gold.”
I looked at the wrapped package. “I can’t take somethin’ that means so much to you.” I offered it back, but he shook his head.
“I want to give you more than silver or gold, Frankie.” His soft voice struck me in a place I thought long dead. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I looked away.
At his prodding, I untied the string and let the brown paper fall away. There in my hands was a small book. Its black leather cover bore cracked edges and looked worn, but the gold lettering on the front fairly sparkled in the sunshine.
I stared at it, my mind traveling all the way back in time to the day I stole Miss Charlotte’s book and held it in my hands. Oh, how I wished I’d thrown it in the fire that day.
“Miz Annabelle taught me to read,” Sam went on, unawareof the painful memories his gift unleashed deep inside me. “This here is a book of Psalms from the Bible. Many are written by a man named David. He was a king long ago. The Psalms tell us all about God and how we can trust him. David says God is our heavenly Father who loves us. For slaves like us who ain’t had a father or someone to care for us, I find that comforting.”
My breath came heavy. I stared at the book, torn between the desire to hug it to my chest as a treasure or throw it into the Cumberland River as a curse.
I lifted my eyes to Sam, angry that he’d caused such confusing emotions to swirl through me. “What am I supposed to do with a book? I can’t read it.”
My harsh words and ungrateful attitude didn’t affect the peaceful expression on his face. “I’ll teach you to read.”
Tears welled in my eyes, betraying me. I pushed the book into his chest. “I don’t want your book. I don’t want to read. And I sure don’t want your God. Can’t you just leave me be?”
I turned and ran. I couldn’t see where I was going through my tears. I only knew I had to get away. From Sam. From memories. From everything. The feelings he and his book wrought inside hurt too much.
The hem of my dress caught on a low stump, and I fell, bruising my knees. I covered my face with my hands and wept. For Mammy. For the innocent child I’d been before I was ripped from her. For my babies. For Moss. It all came out, like floodwaters that had been dammed up too long. Loud wails spilled forth, and I couldn’t’ve stopped them even if I’d tried.
I didn’t know how long I knelt there on the frozen ground,but eventually my tears ceased. My breath hiccuped, the only evidence of my heartache. I lifted my face to the sunshine, wondering what Sam must think of me now.
The answer was there when I stood and started back to camp. He was kneeling on the ground a short distance away, the small book in his hands. Tears wet his cheeks and his eyes were closed, but his mouth moved in silence. I knew he was praying. For me.
Our gazes met when he looked up. He slowly got to his feet and faced me. “You don’t have to be afraid no more, Frankie.”
Of all the things he could have said to me, those soft, unexpected words were exactly what my weary heart needed. Without thought or hesitation, I fell into his waiting arms.
He cradled me a long time, swaying in the cold breeze. Then he started talking.
“Don’t you see, Frankie? The day I landed on Miz Annabelle’s doorstep changed my life. I thought I found freedom when I ran away from my master, but it weren’t mine. Not yet. Freedom comes in knowing the truth of God. He loves each of us the same. He loves you, Frankie.”
