Under the Tulip Tree

by Michelle Shocklee

  I opened the notebook I’d left nearby and jotted down her words. Had she forgotten Alden’s question? I was about to repeat it when she continued.

  “I realize now I was afraid.” She rubbed her deformed fingers in an unconscious manner. “A book had cost me dearly. As irrational as it might seem now, I feared Sam’s book would bring all kinds of trouble if I learned to read the words on them pages.”

  Jael reached over and put her hand on top of Frankie’s.

  “Illa Crandle was a stubborn woman. About as stubborn as me.” We all smiled at that. “Sam must’ve told her about the book, because one day she came up to me and said, ‘Frankie, I’m gonna teach you to read whether you like it or not.’ Well, you can imagine I had all kinds of things to say about that, but sure enough, she began showing up while I had my hands full of hot, soapy laundry. I couldn’t run away and had to listen to her talk about letters and the sounds they make. She’d spell kettle and soap and water, telling me what letters they had in them and drawing them in the dirt.”

  Frankie closed her eyes. “I can see that woman even now, with her hands on her hips and that big ol’ black bonnet keeping the sun out of her eyes. Before long, I had an itch for learning. Nell brought home one of Illa’s books, the same books I’d seen when I was recovering from Hank’s beating. She was just learning, so her reading wasn’t too good, but she’d recite her letters and such until I’d tell her to hush. I’m certain Illa put her up to it.”

  “Illa sounds like a woman after my own heart,” Alden said with a laugh.

  Frankie pursed her lips. “She knew she had me the day I corrected her when she misspelled a word. ’Course, I didn’t realize at the time she’d misspelled it on purpose.”

  I chuckled. Illa did sound like an interesting lady.

  “I couldn’t attend the school since I had a job, so Illa began tutoring me after supper. Before long, I was reading. I read all the books on her shelf. When the officers heard I’d learned to read, some of them offered to let me borrow books they had with them.”

  A frown creased her face. “Sam was the only one who didn’t celebrate my book learning. He’d kept his distance since Christmas, and I couldn’t blame him. When I’d see him around camp or near the laundry area, he was as polite as always, but he’d stopped talking about our future together. I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter, but inside, I felt as though I’d lost somethin’ special.”

  Sam and Frankie’s story reminded me of Grandma Lorena and Grandpa Jim’s. Like Sam, Grandpa had loved people for who they were, but both Frankie and Grandma had lessons to learn before love could grow.

  I stole a peek at Alden, warmth filling my cheeks as I wondered if there were lessons I could learn from him.

  “One day I was in my tent alone. It was Sunday, and Nell and the others were at the service Illa and her helpers conducted. I was poking around beneath my cot, looking for something I’d dropped, when my fingers found the book Sam had given me. My breath caught when I pulled it out. I don’t suppose I’d truly forgotten about it, but finding it that day was like finding a great prize.”

  Frankie lifted her hand to her face, and I realized a tear had slipped down her cheek.

  “I sat on my cot with that book in my lap. Book of Psalms, it said in gold letters right across the front. I carefully opened it, marveling that I held my very own book in my hands. A book no one could take from me. I began reading and reading and reading. When I came to the Twenty-third Psalm, I couldn’t get past it. I read those lines over and over, and every time it was like sunshine pouring into a dark place.”

  She looked at each of us, smiling with glistening eyes. “I understood then. I understood what Mammy tried to teach me about God and his goodness in spite of us being slaves. I understood that the masters who beat me and sold me weren’t anything like God the Father. They was sinners, just like me. I understood that bad things are gonna happen in this world and that we’ll all walk through the valley of the shadow of death. But I needn’t live in fear anymore. The things I endured in my pitiful life as a slave didn’t mean God isn’t good or that he don’t love us.”

  We sat in silence for several long moments, the impact of her words resonating within me. I’d blamed God for the stock market crash and the changes it forced upon me. I’d blamed him for my parents’ failures and even for Mary’s pitiable marriage. Yet was it fair to foist guilt upon God for every bad thing that happened? Didn’t the decisions of individuals play a role in the outcomes?

  “When I saw Sam the next day, he knew something was different. We talked a long time. ‘You’ve made peace with God,’ he said, and I guess I had. We settled into an easy friendship and spent most of our free time together, reading and talking. I had my job and nearly bawled the first time I held my own gold coins. Life in camp wasn’t always pleasant, but I ’spect I was happier than I’d been in a long time. Days passed, then weeks and months. Before I knew it, I’d been in that camp two and a half years.”

  She paused and looked out the window. The sky had grown dark with clouds.

  “I’ll never forget the day a rider came tearing into the soldier camp. It was November of 1864. I was putting away laundry in the commanding officer’s quarters when this young fellow barreled in, his face drained of color. I can hear his words to the general even now. ‘Sir,’ he said, all out of breath. ‘The Army of Tennessee is on the move, and they’re headed for Nashville.’”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Chaos.

  Pure chaos erupted after the messenger delivered the news to the commander. Like a beehive that’d been split open, folks swarmed about camp, shouting, crying, arguing.

  Should we run? Should we stay put? Would the Yankees protect us from the Confederates? No one knew the answers to any of the questions, leaving people terrified and on edge.

  “What’s gonna happen, Frankie? I don’t want to go back to my massa.”

  Nell’s eyes were wide with panic as we sat in our tent, wrapped in blankets, more to ward off the chill of fear than the mild November weather. Voices full of anger and uncertainty ebbed and flowed past our canvas home as folks sorted out their options, but we’d retreated to the tent after searching in vain for Sam or Illa Crandle among the crowds. I hoped Sam would seek me out soon and that he’d have the answers we all sought.

  A tear slid down Nell’s smooth cheek. It occurred to me I’d never thought to ask the girl what her life was like during slavery. From the look of terror in her eyes at the prospect of going back, I guessed it was as bad as mine had been.

  “Ain’t no way to know what’s gonna happen, girl,” I said, giving her a stern look. “But I’ll tell you one thing. We ain’t going back to our masters. The Yankees and Miz Illa won’t let that happen.”

  I prayed my words held truth. In the midst of the bedlam, I’d heard some folks say they’d rather die fighting the Rebs than go back into slavery, and I suppose somewhere inside me I felt the same way. A number of men decided they’d join the army right then and there. While I hadn’t been mistreated by Mr. Waters, I had no desire to go back to being his slave, living in a shack behind his warehouse. I’d tasted freedom, and I had no intention of giving it up.

  Things eventually grew quiet outside. Tangible fear had a way of silencing a soul, and I imagined folks had hid themselves away like Nell and me. There wasn’t anything to do but wait. Wait for the Army of Tennessee to arrive. Wait for the Yankees to keep us safe . . . if they could.

  When I heard Sam’s voice sometime later, my body sagged with relief. Nell had fallen into a fretful sleep, so I walked with Sam to the edge of the contraband camp. Up the hill, Fort Negley buzzed with activity. Soldiers ran hither and yon, moving cannons into position, carrying supplies, and watching the southern horizon for the Confederate Army.

  “Are they really coming, Sam?”

  I didn’t have to explain who I meant. His grave nod indicated he knew. “Hood’s army is camped down near Spring Hill. He chased Schofield’s men ou
t of Columbia and now they’re headed north.”

  “They’re coming to Nashville then.”

  “It appears so.”

  We stood in silence, watching the soldiers prepare for battle. I didn’t know why I’d thought the war would never reach us. Maybe because life had fallen into a comfortable routine. It wasn’t perfect, but I was content here in the contraband camp, waiting for freedom. Yet with the Confederate Army practically on our doorstep, freedom seemed farther away than ever.

  “What will happen now?” I sounded like Nell. Sam wouldn’t have all the answers, but he might have some.

  “Miz Illa is preparing for the wounded we’ll receive. Even though there are already military hospitals around the city, it’s feared they won’t be enough. Makeshift hospitals need to be stocked with supplies and bandages made. She’d like your help.”

  Guilt washed over me. I hadn’t considered the men who might die or be wounded in the fighting. I’d only been concerned for myself. “I’ll come.”

  He took hold of my poor hand and kissed the back of it, seeming not to care that my fingers were deformed. “I’m going to help the officers in whatever way I can.”

  Worry filled me at the thought of Sam anywhere near the battle.

  “You get to the fort as soon as the shooting starts, you hear me?” He gave me a hard look, meant to keep me from arguing. “You get up there and stay until it’s done.”

  I nodded. Fear clogged my throat.

  We walked back to my tent. Before leaving, Sam sent me that special smile he reserved only for me. “When this is over, Frankie, you and me is getting married. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  My eyes followed him as he walked toward the limestone walls of the fort, and I marveled that God had brought such a good man into my life. “Take care of him,” I whispered.

  Two evenings later we heard distant cannon fire echo in the south just as the sun set.

  A shout went up. “Franklin is under attack.” Fear shone in every eye when Nell and I hurried out of our tent. We all stood around, listening. The battle lasted five long hours, and then all was silent.

  It was still dark when Illa came to wake me the next morning. “There’s been a terrible battle in Franklin. Thousands are dead and thousands more wounded. I’m going to help. I need you to continue our preparations here. I fear Nashville will not escape the hand of death.”

  I roused Nell and we made our way to town without trouble. The soldiers were far too busy preparing for Rebs to worry about us women. Schofield’s army had hightailed it to Nashville during the night, and the streets were crawling with more Federal soldiers than I could count, crowding the camps, forts, and city.

  Over the past two days I’d joined Illa and dozens of other volunteers at several hospitals that had been set up throughout the city in office buildings, factories, hotels, and even churches, taking inventory of supplies needed to care for the large number of wounded we expected to receive. Walking through the city, I recalled how Mr. Waters had feared the Yankees would take over his warehouse, and I imagined it now filled with rows of cots instead of groceries.

  Although it was the army’s responsibility to supply the hospitals with doctors, medicines, and food, we spent the day tearing sheets into bandages, scrubbing floors, and assisting Miz Michaels, the matron in charge, with anything else needed. Her staff scurried about, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be a nurse.

  When I found Miz Michaels at the end of the long day and let her know we were leaving, I said, “When the wounded arrive, I’d like to help.”

  She studied me, a grave look on her face. “Until you’ve seen it for yourself, you can’t imagine the horror left in the wake of battle. Most of the men who will come here won’t survive. Many will lose arms and legs. Infection, gangrene, and dysentery are daily struggles. A hospital is no place for anyone with a weak constitution.”

  I stood my ground. “I’ve seen plenty in my day. No one would ever say I had a weak constitution.”

  After a lengthy silence, she conceded. “If what we’ve heard about the number of wounded in Franklin is to be believed, I fear what we can expect once the fighting recommences here. Everyone who is able and willing to help will be welcomed.”

  Illa didn’t return the following day, so Nell and I stayed in camp. I still had my job working for the officers, and plenty of laundry awaited me. A drizzling rain plagued us all morning, and by noon word came that thousands more Federal soldiers had arrived by boat during the night. Nell and I joined others from the camp and climbed the hill, with the fort towering over us, to look across the city to the Cumberland. As far as I could see, the wide river teemed with vessels of all sizes. One fellow nearby said the ships were military transports and ironclad gunboats, the best the Federal navy had to offer. I shivered, thinking what kind of damage guns from a ship that size could do.

  It wasn’t long before the soldier camp and fort overflowed with even more men in blue uniforms. A general named Thomas was now commander of all the troops in Nashville, and I heard one of the officers say they numbered nearly sixty thousand strong. I couldn’t imagine the enemy going up against such a force, yet scouts continued to deliver messages letting the officers know the Confederates had taken up positions south of the city.

  Three days after the Franklin campaign, I trudged through thick mud and rain after long hours of scrubbing filthy laundry. All I wanted was my cot, but getting across the soldier camp proved difficult. Thousands more canvas tents had sprung up since that morning, like weeds in a garden. It seemed there wasn’t a square inch of muddy ground that didn’t have a tent or a soldier occupying it.

  Along with the hordes of new soldiers came dozens of women, white and black alike, known as camp followers. I kept my head down and didn’t acknowledge the painted ladies who wore revealing dresses despite the chilly December air.

  Two years ago, white women who made a living selling their bodies to the soldiers had been rounded up and shipped north in hopes of stemming the sickness the men were contracting at an alarming rate. They were quickly replaced with black gals willing to do whatever it took to survive, thus not solving the problem at all.

  Seeing these new arrivals and knowing the reality of their miserable lives, I felt a gratitude swell inside me that I wasn’t counted among them.

  Near exhaustion and soaked to the bone, I finally found my way to the contraband camp, eager for dry clothes and my bed. Nell’s voice greeted me, but it was Sam’s smile that made my heart leap.

  “Hello, Frankie.” He stood in our tent, covered from head to toe in mud.

  “Land sakes, what’ve you been doing? You carrying around half o’ Tennessee on your back.”

  He chuckled. “They have us digging trenches west of the city.”

  “I thought they’d taken care of that years ago.”

  “They did. There’s seven miles of trenches to the south and west, but the new man in charge wants more.”

  I wished Nell wasn’t sitting here listening. I wanted to ask Sam all kinds of questions about the Franklin battle and if he’d heard when we might see fighting here in Nashville. But I didn’t want to frighten her further. She’d had nightmares ever since hearing Miz Michaels talk about amputations, disease, and such.

  “I can’t stay. We can see the Rebs putting up breastworks. They ain’t more than a quarter mile from the Yankees’ line. I’m to drive one of the wagons to haul supplies down yonder for the soldiers.”

  Disappointment washed over me. I’d hoped Sam was no longer needed by the army. I hated to think of him in harm’s way. “Have you had word from Miz Illa?”

  He shook his head. “I worry she might not be able to get back, what with Hood’s army camped between Franklin and here.”

  I hadn’t considered that. Concern for the kind woman appeared on each of our faces.

  He donned his dirty, bedraggled hat. “I best be getting back.” I followed him to the opening in the canvas. Before ducking out into
the rain, he turned and whispered, “Remember what I said. Get to the fort when the fighting commences.”

  I nodded, and he was gone. Not long afterward, the rain stopped and the cannons began. Thankfully, they quieted after a short time, but it served to put everyone on edge. While we stood in line for our supper—a thin, watery gruel—I noticed it was mainly women and children in camp, many new faces among them. Like Sam, the men and older boys had been conscripted to reinforce fortifications around the city.

  Sometime after we’d crawled onto our cots for the night, we woke to loud, earth-shattering blasts. I wrapped myself in my blanket and poked my head out the tent. Stars twinkled in the black sky, but shouts filled the air.

  “The gunboats is firing!” someone yelled.

  I wondered if we should make our way up the hill to safety behind the fort’s walls, but it didn’t seem as though the Confederates were firing back. At least not with anything as powerful as the Yankees. The boats on the Cumberland roared their guns all through the next day. Nell and I stayed in our tent, and I finally asked about her life in slavery. Her story held as much sadness as mine. Her master had used her body for his own pleasure, and she’d delivered two babies before she was fourteen years old. Both had been sold away from her to cover the man’s shame. I couldn’t imagine that sort of pain. I thought about the babies I lost. Somehow it seemed easier knowing they were dead rather than living in bondage where I couldn’t protect them.

  “What do you want to do when the war is over and we’re free?” I asked, hoping to lighten the conversation.

  A small smile touched her lips. “I’d like to find me a good man and have a house of my own.”

  I hoped her simple dream came true.

  “What about you? You gonna marry up with Sam?”