Page 81 of Under the Tulip Tree
“What happens now?”
She put her other hand on my cheek. “Now you and that fella of yours go out and change the world.”
It felt good to laugh. “Alden and I aren’t dating, you know.”
“I know, but you should. He’s perfect for you, just as Sam was perfect for me.”
“Did you marry him after the war ended?” I asked, still at her knee, like someone who belonged.
“I did. Soon as we heard General Lee surrendered to General Grant. We decided to stay in Nashville and help with the rebuilding. I thought about going to school to become a nurse but in the end chose not to. Sam and I worked as a team. I didn’t like the thought of being in a hospital away from him all day, if you can believe it.” She chuckled; then her smile faded. “Things weren’t easy after the war. We were free, but jobs were scarce. A lot of white folks didn’t want to pay us for work that’d been done without wages during slavery. It took many years before the city and the people recovered. ’Bout the time we settled in and started to figure out freedom, the Ku Klux Klan came around, scaring folks and causing trouble.”
Her expression grew soft. “Sam wasn’t a preacher, but he was close enough for most folks. He’d read from his Bible—the same one he let me take to the prison hospital—and share the gospel with anyone who’d listen. He did lots of other work, too, but sharing God’s Word... that’s what he knew he was supposed to do.
“We were married almost ten years before the Lord blessed us with our son. I’d given up hope of having children. God had given me four babies, but I figured my hatred had killed them all. Sam never stopped praying, though. He told me the Lord would give us a son someday, and he was right.”
I glanced at the framed photograph of a young man I’dseen on the table by my chair the first day I came to see Frankie. “Is that him?”
She nodded. “That’s Caleb. He’s so much like his pappy. That boy is smart, too. He went to Fisk University and got his teacher certificate. He married a gal whose people were from Georgia, and they settled in Atlanta. He wanted Sam and me to come live with them and get away from the Acres, but we was needed here.” She winked. “Caleb give me nine grandchildren, and at one time or another, most all of them has come to live with me and Sam so they could go to school. Now it’s my great-grandchildren who’s coming to see me. Jael is his granddaughter.”
I smiled, wondering why I hadn’t guessed Jael’s identity before now.
Despite all the hardship, the long years of pain and suffering, Frankie had survived. And then she’d thrived.
“And Sam?” I asked, knowing the story wasn’t complete without understanding what happened to her sweetheart.
Sorrow filled her eyes. “He passed on to glory five years ago now. I miss him every day, but I know it won’t be long till I’ll join him and Mammy.”
We spent a lovely afternoon talking, laughing, and baking cookies for the Sunday school children’s bake sale. When it was finally time for me to leave, Frankie pulled me into a tight embrace.
“I’m glad you come to me, Rena.”
Tears threatened, but I nodded. “So am I.”
As I drove away from the yellow house, with Frankie standing on the porch waving, my heart swelled with love. Real, sweet love for a woman who’d been a nameless stranger a short time ago. A woman whose life went beyond the stories she wove. Whose legacy of courage needed to be told to the generations.
I knew I would never be the same.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Our fried chicken dinners grew cold as Alden gaped at me from across the table in the noisy diner.
“You can’t be serious?”
I shushed him when several dinner patrons glanced our way at his exclamation. “I am. Trust me. The shock still hasn’t worn off.”
His gaze went from me to the picture he held of Sadie Pope Hall and back again. “She’s your great-great-grandmother?” His incredulous tone hadn’t lowered.
“Great-great-great-grandmother.”
He shook his head. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” He turned the picture over to reread the handwritten names for the third time. When he finally laid the picture down, he met my gaze. “What are the odds of youand Frankie even meeting, let alone you being assigned to interview her?”
“Frankie and Grandma Lorena don’t believe it was a coincidence.”
His eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. They think some all-powerful, all-knowing deity worked it out.”
I stirred the mashed potatoes on my plate. His skepticism echoed my own, and yet what other explanation could therebe?
“What do you think?” he asked when I didn’t respond.
