Under the Tulip Tree

by Michelle Shocklee

  I peeked out to look at him. He appeared genuine in his concern for me, which made my fear seem foolish. Shameful, even. I’d thought the worst of him when the truth was he’d only wanted to help.

  Frankie thanked the young man, and he turned and headed back up the street.

  “It’s all right, chile.” She smoothed my hair again. “He gone.”

  Slowly I came out of her embrace. My heart still pounded.

  “Come on inside. We get you some water.”

  I followed Frankie up the flower-lined walk. A galvanized watering can sat abandoned, giving evidence of Frankie’s mission before I charged into her day. We went to the kitchen, and she motioned for me to sit at the small table, where a plate of freshly baked cookies sat. My legs felt like jelly, and I gratefully slid onto the seat.

  “I made them spice cookies for Pastor Silas over to the church. They’re his favorite. I don’t ’spect he’d mind if you had one, specially after having such a fright.”

  I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t eat a bite. It would most likely come right back up, considering how upside-down my insides felt. “No, but thank you.” I did accept the glass of water she held out.

  After I took a sip, I closed my eyes, trying to put the incident into perspective. I’d never been so frightened in all my life. What if . . . if . . . ?

  I shuddered.

  “Now, now, you don’t have to be afraid no more. Billy’s a good fellow. He watches out for the young’uns and us old folks here in the Acres. He wouldn’ta hurt you.”

  She reached to wipe a tear from my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

  “Thank you.” I choked on the words, my tears, my fear.

  She gave me a little smile. “Funny thing is, I don’t usually water my flowers till later in the day, but something in my spirit told me to go on out early this morning.”

  I offered a trembling smile. “I’m glad you listened.”

  She placed her gnarled hand on my arm. “Now, you tell me what brings you down here on a Saturday without that handsome fella drivin’ you.”

  I suddenly felt like a fool for coming. “I . . . I just wanted to continue our interview.”

  Her dark eyes studied me a long moment before she nodded. “Let’s go in yonder to the sittin’ room. Jael’s running some errands this morning, but she ought to be back before lunch.”

  We took our usual seats. As I pulled my notebook from my bag, I inhaled a calming breath. I was safe in Frankie’s home, and I’d learned a valuable lesson.

  Not everything was as it seemed here in the Acres.

  With one last shudder, I looked up to find Frankie studying me.

  “You know that fear you had a little while ago when you thought that fellow was chasin’ you? All raw and consumin’?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s how I felt when them patrollers was huntin’ me and Moss. Fear like nothin’ I’d ever felt before, not even when Miz Sadie sold me away from Mammy. That kind of fear is like a livin’, breathin’ thing inside you. And sometimes, it don’t never go away.”

  I knew exactly what she meant.

  The sound of moaning woke me up.

  When it came again, I was surprised to find it originated in my own throat. My eyelids felt heavy and didn’t want to budge, but I managed to open narrow slits and found myself flat on my stomach, looking at the dirt floor of the cabin I shared with six other slaves.

  Confusion swirled through my mind, which, like my eyelids, felt heavy. Had I fallen out of bed? I closed my eyes, trying to remember, but nothing surfaced. I had a sense something was terribly wrong, yet my head couldn’t conjure up a reason for this feeling of foreboding.

  Maybe I was dreaming. Moss once told me I talked in my sleep. Maybe I walked in my sleep too and had taken a tumble.

  The nightmare became real, however, when I tried to rise.

  Intense, red-hot pain shot through my entire body. I gasped, agony tearing through my abdomen with the slight movement. Bright stars filled my eyes, blocking out the cabin.

  Have mercy, what happened to me?

  “Help.”

  My whispered plea barely reached my own ears. I opened my eyes again, the stars fading. A shaft of sunshine came through a place in the log wall where the chinking was missing, telling me it was daytime. Everyone would be out in the tobacco fields, where I should’ve been. Why wasn’t I?

  “Moss?” My lips cracked, and I tasted blood when I ran my tongue across them. “Moss?”

  Stillness followed.

  A bird trilled outside.

  No one answered. I would need to get off the floor myself.

  Wave after wave of excruciating pain invaded every crevice of my being as I inched my body up into a kneeling position. My middle and ribs hurt something fierce, and they wouldn’t support me without sending me into agony. I slumped against the wall by the door, crying like a newborn baby. I had no idea what terrible fate had befallen me. All I could do was wait for Moss.

  The next time my eyes opened, I found Bessy’s young face close to mine.

  “Thank the Lawd.” My cabinmate turned to someone out of my view. “She wakin’ up.”

  I hoped it was Moss. It was not.

  Ophelia lumbered into my sight. It hurt to look up at her, but she didn’t seem inclined to come down to my level as Bessy had.

  She shook her head. “You a fool, girl.” There was no sympathy in her thick voice. “I tol’ you Moss weren’t good for you, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look at the mess you gone and got yo’self into.”

  I blinked, trying to sort out her scolding words. “Where is he?”

  “Who?” Ophelia frowned. She and Bessy exchanged a look.

  “Moss.” It took all my strength to speak. The women didn’t seem motivated to tell me what happened. I just wanted Moss to come and carry me to our bed, where I could sleep away the pain.

  “He be dead, girl. You know that. Them dogs tore him to pieces.”

  I stared at the woman, thinking her mad. Moss wasn’t dead. He—

  It all rushed back to me then.

  Our escape. The gunshot. The dogs. The beating.

  The mournful sound that emitted from me would forever echo in my soul. I remembered. I remembered it all.

  Ophelia ignored my cries, my shrieks of pain, when she and Bessy grasped me by the arms and dragged me across the room. I must have blacked out, because the next time I woke, I was in bed. Alone. Darkness had descended, and the small cabin was quiet except for the occasional light snores from the other occupants.

  I lay there thinking about Moss, wishing I’d died with him. God must truly hate me if he left me here, broken and bruised, without Moss. The Almighty had taken from me time and time again—Mammy, my babies—to the point I quit believing in him altogether. The happiness I’d found with Moss ignited a spark of hope deep inside me, in a place I’d thought long dead. Hope that perhaps God was real and he might find me worthy of the love Mammy had always talked about.

  As I lay there in misery, with my body and my heart shattered, I knew better. If God was real, he was a vengeful, angry god. Mammy’d been wrong to say he was love. What kind of love was it to enslave people simply because of the color of their skin? Love didn’t kill. Love didn’t maim.

  The small flame that had ignited in my heart when Moss came into my world blew out. I stared into the darkness and knew.

  If I lived through this, I would never again allow myself to hope.

  For anything.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The front door to Frankie’s home opened, letting in a flood of sunshine. A pretty young black woman entered, carrying two sacks of groceries. She came to an abrupt halt seeing me there with Frankie.

  “Jael, this is Rena, the gal I told you was interested in talking about slavery times.” Frankie turned to me. “This is Jael. She takes care of me.”

  I stood, shuffling my notebook and pencil into one hand before I realized Jael wouldn’t be able to shake min
e even if I offered. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  She closed the door with her foot and came into the room. “I’m pleased to meet you as well. Mama Fran can’t talk ’bout nothin’ else but this here interview you’re doing.”

  “Can I help with your bags?”

  Jael nodded. “That’d be nice.” She handed me one of the paper sacks before turning to Frankie. “They’s all out of bacon, Mama Fran, but they had some ham steaks that looked good.”

  Frankie nodded. “Guess we’ll cook some beans then. You get ’em soaking while Rena and I finish up; then we’ll have a bite to eat.”

  Jael disappeared into the kitchen. I hadn’t thought to bring a sandwich with me, considering my hasty exit from the house. I didn’t want to be a bother. “I should probably go and let you get on with your day.”

  Disappointment flashed in Frankie’s eyes. “I ain’t got anything pressing to get done. When you reach my age, just rising out of bed is an accomplishment. But if you need to go, I won’t keep you.”

  I held no desire to return home and face Mama just yet. Besides, I hadn’t figured out how I’d get to the streetcar stop. Despite Frankie’s insistence that Billy and the others were harmless, I wasn’t brave enough to attempt walking through the infamous neighborhood alone again.

  “If you’re sure, I’d like to continue the interview.”

  Frankie nodded and settled back in her chair. “I don’t like remembering the bad times, but the Lord has a way of using them to get you to where he wants you to go.”

  I carried the groceries to the kitchen, where Jael instructed me to set them on the table. I returned to the living room and took up my pencil and notebook again, pondering the bit of wisdom Frankie had just imparted.

  Was that the key to her surviving slavery? Believing God had a purpose in the midst of the pain? If so, how had she come by it?

  “After the beating and Moss’s death, I gave up on life. I wouldn’t eat nothin’, no matter what Bessy tried to poke down me. Ophelia and the others would’ve let me die, I guess, but Bessy fretted over me like a mama hen and eventually managed to get some broth in me.” She stared off to the distance for a moment, remembering. “I can’t recall how many days passed, but one afternoon Master came down to the quarter to see me. He cursed when he entered the cabin and found me lying in my own filth. Said he’d paid good money for me and wasn’t about to let me die and waste it.”

  I wrote her words, disgusted by the man who’d owned her. Surely his heart had been made of stone.

  “The next day Bessy and Ophelia washed me and got me into a clean dress. Soon as they was done, the overseer and another white man carried me to a wagon. I figured they’d dug a hole somewhere and planned to put me in it, but instead they drove me to Nashville to the slave market.”

  My head shot up. “The slave market? What’s that?”

  Frankie frowned. “The market was a place where us slaves was auctioned off. It was down on Cedar Street. We had to stand on a high platform while white men bid on the one they wanted to buy. Some of the big, strong men went for a thousand dollars or more, but I was so scrawny and weak, no one wanted me. I stood there in shame as the man in charge of the auction kept lowering the price, convincing me of my worthlessness.”

  A gasp came from the kitchen doorway.

  “Mama Fran, you ain’t worthless.” Jael rushed to Frankie and embraced her. I’d forgotten the young woman was in the next room, no doubt listening to the troubling tale.

  “I know that, baby girl.” Frankie smoothed Jael’s curly shoulder-length hair in the same way she’d smoothed mine earlier that morning. “I know that now, but I didn’t then.”

  Jael moved to where she could look at Frankie, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I didn’t know how much you suffered, Mama Fran.”

  Frankie patted her cheek and gave a brave smile. “Better me than you, baby girl.” Her gaze returned to me. “About the time I thought no one would buy me, a short man in a tall hat bid ten dollars. Mr. Waters owned a big wholesale grocery business in downtown Nashville, right off Market Street, and needed someone to clean the warehouse and offices.”

  Jael settled on the floor, clutching Frankie’s deformed hand, listening.

  “I never would’ve dreamed it, but that man saved my life.” Frankie chuckled. “He was a strange little man, but he wasn’t cruel. He set me up in my own shed behind the warehouse. It had a small stove and a cot to sleep on. Twice a week a house slave would arrive with enough food meant to last me until he showed up again. I gained my strength back and determined I’d be a good worker for Mr. Waters rather than causing trouble like I’d done in the past.”

  “Were you happy there?” Jael asked.

  I never would have dared to ask such a thing, but I had to admit I was curious to hear Frankie’s answer.

  She pursed her lips. “I can’t say I was happy, but some of the anger and fire that had been a part of me was gone. Whether it was beat out of me or got buried deep inside, I didn’t know. I kept to myself mostly and didn’t speak to the warehouse workers much. At first, Mr. Waters locked the shed at night to make sure I didn’t run off. After a while he must’ve decided he could trust me, because he left it unlocked and even allowed me to run errands for him. I’d never seen a city before, and I’d stare up at the tall buildings and all the white people wandering the streets.”

  Her gaze met mine. “I ’spect I would’ve stayed with Mr. Waters forever had the Federal Army not shown up and changed everything.”

  The three of us sat at the small table in Frankie’s kitchen, eating cold fried chicken and slices of bread spread with sweet butter.

  “Have you ever met anyone who lived to tell about the War between the States?” Frankie directed her question to me.

  “My grandma was born right before the war began, so she doesn’t remember anything about it. Some of my great-uncles fought in it, but . . .” I gave a small shrug, knowing my ancestors had been Confederates. I’d never been ashamed of that fact until this very moment. Had they, like the men who’d owned Frankie, believed it was their right to keep people in bondage? To beat innocent children? To murder?

  Frankie nodded, no doubt guessing why I didn’t finish my thought. “It’s a terrible thing when countrymen fight against one another. Yet, if them Yankees hadn’t come to Nashville, I would’ve been a slave a whole lot longer.”

  “Weren’t you afraid of the soldiers, Mama Fran?” Jael’s eyes grew wide.

  Frankie took a bite of chicken before giving an answer. She wiped her mouth on a napkin, then sat back in the chair and looked out the kitchen window to blue sky. “I was terrified, baby girl. ’Course, they weren’t the first soldiers I’d seen. Up till then, the Confederate Army held Nashville, so I was used to seeing soldiers in gray. We’d heard rumors the Yankees were coming, but I don’t think we believed it until they were practically on our doorstep, camped right across the Cumberland. All them boys in gray hightailed it south, leaving the city unprotected. People filled the streets, running and screaming. Wagons piled high with household belongings clogged the roads headed out of town. Them that couldn’t leave barricaded themselves in their homes.”

  She looked at Jael, then to me. “Mr. Waters was desperate to vacate the city and planned to take me with him. If I recall correctly, his wife had kin in North Carolina and they intended to go there. But he didn’t want the Yankees to get hold of his inventory, so we were delayed while wagons were loaded with merchandise. He sent me to deliver a message to his family, telling them to start without him, but when I tried to get back to the warehouse, I couldn’t for all the commotion. That’s when I saw a line a mile long of soldiers in blue coats marching into downtown. A band of soldiers was playin’ instruments, like it was a holiday parade.”

  Jael and I stared at Frankie in rapt attention.

  “Did they hurt you?” Jael whispered, moisture forming in her eyes.

  Frankie shook her head. “No, although I thought they might when they g
athered us slaves up.”

  “Where did they take you?” I asked, my lunch forgotten.

  “First, we were put in a camp not far from here. After a while, they moved some of us to an area south of the city and set up canvas tents. I heard later they called it a contraband camp, meaning we slaves were contraband because we’d run away from our owners.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t run away, but I never did see Mr. Waters again.”

  “Were you free?”

  Frankie patted Jael’s hand and smiled. “I was, baby girl. For the first time in my life, I was free.”

  They shared a triumphant smile that left me, a white woman, out. I’d never endured anything like what Frankie had, nor had I experienced racial discrimination as Jael most surely had. I couldn’t possibly understand the depth of feelings that must have passed through Frankie when she realized she was no longer a slave, owned by another.

  Frankie’s smile faded. “Life inside the camp was good at first, even though it was cold and crowded. I think we were in shock for a time, before it finally sunk in that we were free. There was food aplenty in the beginning, and it felt like a celebration. Music and singing every night. Laughter. But after a while, folks began to get restless. They didn’t like that the soldiers wouldn’t let us roam around outside the camp. The men were forced into labor, building a big limestone fort up the hill from our camp and digging trenches around the city to keep the Confederates out. Rumors crept in that a group of soldiers abused some of the women.”

  Her voice dropped. “When a man was shot because he refused to work for the Yankees and tried to leave the camp, we started to wonder if we’d traded one master for another.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Thank you for giving me a ride.”

  I glanced at Mr. Norwood’s profile as he maneuvered the car through Hell’s Half Acre in the dim light of dusk. I’d stayed at Frankie’s far longer than I intended. She’d offered to teach Jael and me how to make bread, and time slipped by as we talked and laughed and got flour everywhere. When I glanced out the window and noticed the sun dipping near the horizon, panic nearly overwhelmed me, and I wondered how I could reach the streetcar stop without drawing unwanted attention again, especially in the dark. After Frankie told Jael what happened that morning, she volunteered to run to Pastor Silas’s house to use the telephone to call Alden. I never dreamed I’d be so happy to see his old Chevrolet coupe pull up in front of Frankie’s house.