Under the Tulip Tree

by Michelle Shocklee

  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 imagine happiness 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 been slaves 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.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  After I healed, I thought Illa Crandle would leave me alone. I was wrong.

  I sat on a stump outside our tent in the bit of shade it offered, the afternoon heat nearly suffocating. Spring rains and cool air were but a memory, replaced with the meanness of summer. Nell and the others disappeared each day, spending time at the newly formed school that met in the shade of one of the few oak trees left standing. One of Illa’s helpers served as the teacher, and their laughter and excitement often reached me.

  But I had no desire to join them. Let them suffer the consequences of book learning.

  A shadow fell over me. “Hello, Frankie.” Illa stood between me and the sun. “I’ve found thee a job. ’Tis a blessing, to be sure.”

  I tilted my head and gazed up with half-closed eyes. “I ain’t got need of a job.”

  What I needed was for the woman to leave me be. She’d pestered me every day since I left her tent. “Frankie, how does thee feel?” “Frankie, thee best eat some of this soup.” “Frankie, Frankie, Frankie.” I’d just about had enough of it and found myself practically hiding when I knew the woman was around. I was grateful she’d tended me when I was down. Even I wouldn’t have done such for a complete stranger, especially if the roles had been reversed and a white person had been hurt. But I wasn’t some child in need of a mammy. A white mammy, at that. I didn’t need her fawning over me anymore.

  “I hope thee will change thy mind. They’ll pay for thy work.”

  My head jerked up. The woman had my attention despite my previous thoughts. “Who?”

  She knelt in front of me, the delicate white fabric of her day cap peeking out from beneath the rim of a sturdier black bonnet that kept the sunshine from her face. “The army.”

  I scoffed. “The army don’t pay for nothin’. They just order us around, like we was their slaves.”

  For months I’d watched soldiers load up every able-bodied man and boy from camp and force them to labor, day after day, as woodcutters, haulers, and corders. Conscripted, the army called it. Slavery without ownership, I called it. Nashville had been scalped of its trees, large and small, old and young, to provide material to build fortifications, housing for the officers, and forts, including the one just up the hill from our camp. Hour upon hour these conscripted men and boys toiled, the work as hard and exhausting as anything they’d done as slaves. I listened to their stories and complaints at night around the campfires, with most admitting some of the white soldiers from the North were almost as bad as the plantation owners. And as far as I knew, not one of them had received the promised payment for their work.

  “They’ll pay.” The Crandle woman gave a firm nod of confidence. “I’ve seen to it.”

  I eyed her, wondering for the hundredth time why this white woman cared so much about us slaves. Why she cared about me. She could be back home in Pennsylvania, with food aplenty and the war far away. Who in their right mind would leave a comfortable life to come here?

  I finally huffed, knowing she wouldn’t leave me be unless I addressed her offer. “What do I have to do?”

  “Laundry.”

  Oh, lawsy. Had the heat caused the woman to become addlebrained?

  Everyone had seen the huge vats outside the soldiers’ camp. Dozens of slave women worked over hot fires, washing sheets, blankets, and clothes for the Yankees. The backbreaking work wasn’t something I’d wish on anyone. There were simply too many soldiers and too much laundry.

  I shook my head. “I ain’t interested.”

  “Thee would not be doing laundry for the whole company. Thee would only work for the officers and then only for those who haven’t taken houses or hotel rooms in town.”

  Despite my firm resolve against the job, my mind quickly tallied the men at the fort and in the garrison who wore uniforms distinguishing them as officers. Far fewer than the hundreds of enlisted men who roamed the area.

  “Why can’t the gals over to the soldier camp do their laundry?”

  “The officers prefer to keep their things separate.”

  That made sense. I considered the offer, but I wasn’t convinced. It still meant I’d be out in the heat of the day, bending over a hot cauldron, washing white men’s clothing. “How much they pay?”

  “They’ll pay four dollars a month.”

  In spite of myself, I felt a thump of excitement grip my heart.

  I’d never been paid for work. Some slaves I’d met in camp told of masters who allowed them to earn a bit of money hiring out to others or selling crops they grew on their own time, but I’d never even held a coin of my own. Only on rare occasions had Mr. Waters sent me on errands that required money. He’d count out the coins, put them in a pouch, and t
ell me not to open it. Not even when I reached my destination was I to take them out. I’d simply hand the pouch to the store owner, never touching the money.

  How did one know how much each gold piece was worth? And what about paper money? There was so much I needed to learn about the world before I was turned loose in it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad doing the officers’ laundry if I knew I’d get paid for it. The thought of having my own money was tempting.

  Illa waited. I mulled it over again and again. Finally I drew a breath. “I’ll do it,” I said and quickly clamped my mouth closed, afraid I might take the words back.

  My agreement must have surprised her, for her graying brows disappeared beneath her bonnet. A moment later, a smile spread across her face. “Thee does keep me on my toes, Frankie.” She stood. “We’ll get thee started tomorrow morning. It’s best to work in the early hours, before the day gets too hot.”

  Had any other white woman said such a thing, I would have laughed, imagining she knew nothing about work and hot days. But I didn’t laugh at Illa. She worked harder than most slaves. She tended the sick, held colicky babies, helped cook meals, broke up arguments, and did anything else that needed doing. She’d quickly earned the admiration of most everyone in the contraband camp as well as many of the soldiers.

  Sam approached us then, much to my chagrin. He smiled, tipped his hat, and sent me a polite nod. “Miss Frankie. Sure is hot out here. Might should join them others under the tree where it’s a bit cooler.”

  I barely acknowledged him before turning away. I wasn’t sure why, but I disliked the man greatly. He was too courteous. Too handsome. Too . . . everything.

  “Frankie has agreed to become the laundress for the officers,” Illa said, pleasure in her voice.

  I didn’t look at her or Sam.

  “That’s mighty fine news. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your work.”

  It seemed rude to completely ignore him, so I gave a quick nod without looking up. I stood and dusted off my hands. “I best get inside, out of the sun.”

  “I’ll meet thee at the officers’ quarters at dawn.” I found a smile on Illa’s face. “The morning air will do us good after all this heat.”

  Without meaning to, my gaze shifted to Sam. His grin revealed teeth as straight and white as Hank’s. I guessed he was mighty proud of them since he showed them off all the time.

  Before he could say anything else, I ducked into the tent, belatedly remembering why I’d abandoned it earlier. The air was stifling. I’d wait until they walked away before going outside again.

  I lay down on my cot, thinking it’d be cooler if I could just be still awhile. I closed my eyes, feigning sleep should anyone peek inside the tent. My mind, however, whirled like a twister.

  I had a job. A real job. For the first time in my life, I’d be paid for my work.

  My eyes flew open. Panic surged ahead of my elation.

  I’d never dealt much with the soldiers. They weren’t too friendly, and Nell and I determined it best to keep our distance. Would the officers be demanding and cruel like a master? What if I ruined their clothes? Lye soap wasn’t always dependable. And what of their blue jackets? Surely the wool they were made from couldn’t be washed. How would I ever get them clean?

  Sweat broke out on my forehead.

  What punishment would I receive if I couldn’t do the job properly? Would they beat me like an unsatisfied master? Send me to prison with Hank?

  My heart hammered.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted the job. I’d never tended a white person’s laundry before. Not even for Mr. Waters. He and his family had house servants who took care of their personal needs. I’d simply cleaned the warehouse and offices and run an occasional errand.

  “You’re a smart girl, Frankie. Ain’t nothin’ you can’t do if you set your mind to it.”

  Mammy’s voice in my head stilled my racing thoughts.

  Mammy’d always said things like that, trying to teach me even though I was so hardheaded. I couldn’t recall what I’d been trying to accomplish on that long-ago day, but her encouragement returned to me as clear as the blue sky above. In the short time I’d had with her, she’d tried to instill in me a confidence that seemed in direct contrast to our position as slaves. I knew she’d been an obedient servant to the Halls, but her desire for freedom and hope for a better life for her children never waned. Maybe confidence in oneself had nothing to do with what other folks thought or did. Maybe it was deep down inside you, just waiting to be let loose like a spring of water gushing to the surface.

  What would Mammy think of me hiring myself out to wash Yankee officers’ drawers?

  I chuckled, then sobered.

  I’d been thinking about Mammy a lot lately. When I first came to the contraband camp, I searched for her. Every day I’d ask newcomers if they knew Lucindia from the Halls’ plantation, but no one ever did. I dreamed of finding her once we were truly free, no matter how long it took.

  I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out.

  Mammy would want me to take the job. “I’ll make you proud, Mammy,” I whispered into the hot breeze coming through the flap.

  The next morning, I was up long before the sun. Snores came from Nell’s side of the tent as I tiptoed outside to greet the day. I hadn’t left the contraband camp too many times in the months I’d been here. I had nowhere to go. While we weren’t required to carry a pass as we’d needed to when we were slaves, the soldiers guarding the entrance to camp made certain to ask me my business before letting me go any further. Miz Illa said the soldiers were there to keep us all safe from our former owners and those who’d want to steal us away to sell us, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was doing something wrong by leaving camp each time I passed their stony faces.

  The soldier camp was located between the contraband camp and the fort. I made my way there, feeling the outsider. No one bothered me, and some of the men even tipped their heads politely as I walked past, but mostly I was ignored. I saw several women from the contraband camp already busy cooking over fires or carrying baskets of laundry.

  True to her word, Illa met me at the far end of the soldier camp where the officers lived. Those men didn’t sleep in canvas tents like the enlisted men. Cabins and a number of larger buildings had been constructed for their use.

  “Good morning, Frankie.” Illa’s bright smile rivaled the sun just peeking over the eastern horizon, tinging the sky with shades of pink, blue, and gold. “I’m happy thee did agree to this job. I think thee will find it rewarding in the long run.”

  I followed her to the back of one of the larger buildings. Several big kettles hung over bricked circles where the remains of fires lay. I counted five in all. Beyond that, lines were strung in rows for clothes to dry on.

  “There are baskets in each of the men’s quarters where they leave their laundry.” She pointed to the cabins. “Thee will want to make note of which basket belongs to whom, to avoid getting them mixed up.”

  A thread of trepidation began to wind itself through my stomach.

  I hadn’t thought about the laundry itself and how I’d know what shirt belonged to which officer. I’d need to be extra attentive when gathering the dirty things.

  “There’s plenty of soap, although I daresay it’s the strongest lye soap I’ve used. Take care with thy hands when using the washboards, and use the paddles as much as possible.” She motioned toward the big kettles. “Sam will be by to help tote water and get the fires going this morning.”

  To this I jerked my head toward her. “I don’t need his help.”

  Illa ignored my hard tone. “It’s quite a chore hauling all that water by thyself.” Her gaze drifted to my poor hand.

  “I don’t need his help,” I repeated, my shoulders stiff.

  A moment passed before she gave in. “Very well. If thee changes thy mind, he’ll be around. He also works for the officers, running errands, tending their horses, and such.”

  “I thought he worke
d for you.”

  “No. Sam escaped from a plantation in eastern Tennessee ten years ago and found his way to Philadelphia. When he heard about our mission here in Nashville, he wanted to join us.”

  Now that was a wonder, I thought. An escaped slave risking the threat of being recaptured to help those still in bondage. It didn’t make me like him any better, but I had to admit to a bit of admiration for anyone who would do such a thing.

  Illa left me then, and I set to work hauling bucket after bucket of water to fill the kettles. The pump wasn’t far from where I was to work, but the buckets grew heavy once they were filled. I wouldn’t ask for Sam’s help, though. Once I had all five kettles full, I got the fires blazing. I’d need a lot of hot water for washing, but I planned to rinse everything in cold water. It would save time, effort, and wood.

  Once I had everything ready for washing, I ventured to the first cabin. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I looked around. Was I supposed to just walk into the private quarters of a Union Army officer without supervision? No one seemed to care that I stood at the door. The soldiers went about their business, leaving me unnoticed.

  I reached for the knob and gulped. With one last look around, I opened the door and peeked inside. A cot similar to my own was neatly spread with an army blanket. A small desk sat in the corner, piled with maps and papers. Pegs held miscellaneous items of clothing. In the corner to my left sat the laundry basket, just as Illa described.

  I hurried in, snatched up the basket, and was back outside before anyone could say I’d lingered. I wouldn’t want to be blamed should items go missing.

  Over the course of the morning, I repeated the process a half-dozen times. Only once was the owner of the laundry in residence. A young lieutenant sat at his desk writing a letter when I approached his open door. He barely acknowledged me and simply pointed at the basket in the corner when I said I’d come for it.

  Heeding Illa’s advice, I devised a plan to keep the laundry and the owner straight in my mind. The cabins were laid out in a neat row, so that was the order in which I washed, rinsed, and hung the laundry. After my initial misgivings about washing the men’s personal garments, I soon was so busy, I didn’t even notice what item I was scrubbing.