Under the Tulip Tree

by Michelle Shocklee

  “He remembered you,” Jael said, anger in her words.

  “He remembered. I don’t think either of us wanted to, though.” Her lips pursed. “As soon as he spoke his name, all the memories of that terrible day flooded my mind. Miz Sadie’s wild eyes. The pain that shot through me. Burton’s indifference while he watched his mother beat me. I’d tried so hard to forget it all, and there he was, bringing it all back up, like vomit.”

  “What did you do?”

  Frankie gave a humorless laugh. “What I’d been doing all my life. I ran. I ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out of that hospital. I had me no idea where I was going. I just ran. When I finally stopped, I stood in front of Sam. He took one look at me and knew something bad had happened. I fell to my knees on that hardwood floor and sobbed. All Sam could do was hold my hand, but I could hear him praying too.”

  She sighed. “I figured the men in the room thought I was crazy, but when I finally calmed, the looks of sympathy and understanding are ones I’ll never forget. No doubt every one of them had times when they faced their greatest fears, but on that day, it was my turn.

  “I stayed on the floor next to Sam’s bed until the sun had long been tucked behind the hills. Miz Illa came and tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t listen. What does a white woman know of this kind of pain? It was late before I finally dragged myself up, stiff, sore, and completely spent. My stomach was empty, but I couldn’t eat a thing. Sam hadn’t said a word to me the whole time I lay in a heap on the floor. He just held my hand and prayed.”

  Prayed for what? I wondered. The damage had already been done. It would have been better if God had prevented her from meeting Burton in the first place.

  “When I finally sat up and looked at him, he had tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘Frankie,’ he said, ‘if I could, I’d take this cup from you. But you gotta drink it yourself.’”

  “What’d he mean, Mama Fran?” Jael asked.

  Frankie gave a sad smile. “He meant I was gonna have to go back and face Burton.”

  Jael gasped. “No.”

  But Frankie nodded. “I knew Sam was right, but I’d been fighting it.”

  “Why would you need to go back? That man didn’t deserve the kindness you’d already shown him. He didn’t need another chance to hurt you.”

  Frankie considered Jael’s venomous words.

  “Maybe not, baby girl, but it wasn’t for him that I went back. It was for me.”

  The ward was dark except for a pitiful circle of light coming from a lantern just inside the door. My heart raced, and I feared it was loud enough to wake the sleeping men. I stood a long time staring into the room. I couldn’t see Burton, for it was too dark, but I knew he was there. The same boy who’d stood by while his mother forever damaged my hand and my spirit. I could still picture him as he’d been that day. A sandy-haired boy on the verge of manhood, more curious than concerned at the beating of a six-year-old child.

  “I can’t do this,” I breathed into the chilly hallway.

  But then Sam’s voice filled my mind. “Yes, you can, Frankie,” he seemed to say. “You ain’t going in alone.”

  A glance out the window revealed it was still dark outside, but it wouldn’t be long before the first signs of morning would color the horizon. What I needed to say to Burton had to be said before everyone else woke.

  Squaring my shoulders, I took a step forward, then another, until I was beside his bed. When my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, I was surprised to find him awake, looking at me, almost as though he’d expected me to come.

  Neither of us spoke. I’d thought of everything I wanted to say to him on the way over here, yet now I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

  “You came back,” he finally said. Although his voice was barely audible, his words echoed in the still room.

  “I did.”

  He seemed at a loss for something to say. So be it. I was the one with the grievance. I’d speak my piece and leave.

  “Your family wronged me,” I hissed. “No child should ever be treated the way your mama treated me. No child should ever be taken from their mother the way your pappy took me from mine. Don’t matter that I was a slave owned by Master Hall. Don’t matter that my skin was dark. What matters is that I is a human being. What kind of person treats another human being the way your mama treated me?” I shook my head, my chin trembling with emotion. “But I ain’t here to judge you, Mr. Hall. That day will come soon enough. For you. For me. For your mama and pappy.”

  I turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  I had opened my mouth to remind him I wasn’t his slave anymore when he added, “Please.”

  Tears threatened to spill over my lids, but I refused to let them. I wouldn’t have this man see me cry.

  “I . . .” He stopped. Swallowed hard. Started again. “I . . . it . . .” He heaved a breath and looked at the ceiling. “My mother shouldn’t have struck you. My daddy shouldn’t have sold you.”

  His gaze met mine.

  I waited.

  “Nothing was the same after that day.”

  I puzzled over this. “What do you mean?”

  “Everything changed. Lucindia refused to come to the house after you were taken away. Mama wanted to sell her and your brother and sisters, but Papa refused. He said he’d never sell another slave again, especially a child. He and Mama argued all the time after that. Charlotte wasn’t the same either. She cried a lot and had nightmares.”

  I stood in stunned silence. It never occurred to me Mammy would refuse to go up to the big house after I was sold or that anyone ever regretted what happened to me. I’d always assumed life on the plantation continued with its usual rhythm, as though I’d never existed at all.

  “What happened to Mammy?”

  Burton turned away. “Papa put her in the fields. She took sick just before the war began. Papa called the doctor . . . but she passed on.”

  I clutched at my heart, feeling it shatter into a thousand pieces. A silent sob shook my shoulders, and I closed my eyes against the pain. Oh, Mammy.

  “My brother and sisters?” A tiny speck of hope ignited, only to be dashed by his slight shrug.

  “Papa sent most of our slaves south when Tennessee fell to the Federals. I don’t know what’s become of them.”

  In the span of a heartbeat, I’d lost my mother and my siblings all over again. Anger shot to the surface, like a ball fired from a cannon, exploding with red-hot words.

  “Your family stole everything from me. Everything. I will never forgive you. Do you hear me? Never.” I didn’t care that my voice had risen, causing the sleeping men to stir. They were as guilty as Burton Hall in my mind. White men who believed it their right to own me, simply because of the color of my skin.

  He wouldn’t look at me. I wanted to spit and call him a coward, but instead I turned and fled the room. Cold air hit my face when I exited the building, but I didn’t stop. I wandered the city, grieving over Mammy despite the fact she’d been gone for years. I didn’t want to go to Sam. He’d be disappointed in me, but I wouldn’t forgive Burton as Sam would want me to do. The Halls had taken everything away from me except my hatred. That I refused to relinquish.

  I was near frozen when I came to the river. I stood there shivering while the eastern horizon filled with the colors of dawn. Dark shapes on the water turned into ships and fishing boats. Sailors, workers, and tradesmen appeared on the docks, going about their early morning business.

  I remained where I stood, a block of ice carved into a woman. My heart felt hard and frozen. And tired. So very tired of the struggle. I looked down to the dark water. Perhaps I should simply slip into its depths and bring an end to it all. Wouldn’t that be for the best? Mammy was gone from this world. Why shouldn’t I go? What did I have to live for?

  Voices drew my attention.

  A group of passengers made their way to a steamship not far from where I stood. Most of the passengers were white, but I noticed
a dark-skinned woman near the back. She held the hand of a small girl, and they each were carrying a bundle. I watched their careful progress up the gangplank, unable to look away. Just before they disappeared into the belly of the ship, the little girl turned, smiled, and waved to me, as though she knew I was watching.

  I lifted my hand.

  The child nodded, and then she was gone.

  Tears formed and slid down my cheeks as the ship pulled away from the dock and started north. To a new beginning, I hoped. For the girl and her mother.

  What about me? Didn’t I deserve a new beginning too?

  Sam wouldn’t want me to end my life. Not when his life had been spared. Not when we had such hope and dreams for freedom, we could almost taste it. I’d been offered marriage by a good man when the war was over. And despite the horrors I’d witnessed in the hospitals, a small flame flickered somewhere inside me at the thought of becoming one of the first black nurses. If I walked into the river and let it carry me to my death, I would allow fear and hatred to win.

  I looked upstream just as the steamer rounded a bend and disappeared, carrying the little girl into her future. I lifted my hand again, but it was to the scared six-year-old who’d existed inside me all these years that I bid farewell.

  It was time for me to live. To love. To forgive.

  When I arrived at the prison hospital later that morning, the place was in an uproar. Federal soldiers swarmed the hallways, dragging patients from their beds to be loaded into wagons outside.

  I hurried upstairs and found Cait in the hallway outside the ward. “What’s happening?”

  “They’re removing prisoners they deem well enough to travel. The men will be marched north to prison.”

  Although we’d known it would happen eventually, the news was disheartening. Most of the men in our ward were not well enough for the long journey to Camp Chase in faraway Ohio.

  I looked into the room to where Burton Hall waited with the others. He stared straight ahead, and I wondered if he was scared.

  Two Federal soldiers stood in the aisle between the rows of beds, conversing in low tones. Finally the senior officer stepped forward.

  “You, you, you, and you.” He pointed to four men, including Burton. “Gather your belongings and prepare for immediate departure.” They exited the room, brushing past me.

  I wanted to run after them and protest. To remind them Burton had lost an arm and still required help with the most basic needs. How could he manage a long march north in the bitter weather?

  Cait hurried into the ward and set to work packing one of the soldiers’ meager belongings. I made my way to Burton. He was trying to button his coat.

  “Let me help you,” I said.

  Surprise registered on his pale face. “Frankie.”

  I gently moved his hand away and fastened the rows of brass buttons on his dirty gray coat. There were so many things I wanted to say, but now that our time was cut short, only one mattered.

  “I was wrong last night to say I wouldn’t forgive you.” Tears sprang to my eyes unbidden. “I do, Burton. I forgive you. You were just a child, like me. You couldn’t have stopped what your mama and pappy done.”

  His throat convulsed, as though he too fought emotions.

  A Federal soldier filled the doorway. “Move out.”

  Fear, raw and full, came to Burton’s eyes, and I knew I couldn’t let him go without hope. I grasped his coat by the lapels. “You listen to me, Burton Hall. You’re gonna make it. Don’t let that missing arm rob you of the life God has for you. When this war is over, you come on home. You hear me?”

  Unshed tears glistened as he nodded.

  I let go, and he reached for his haversack. He joined the other men, but before he walked through the doorway, he stopped and faced me.

  “Charlotte will be mighty glad to know you’re doing so well, Frankie. She never forgot you.”

  And then he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  My sister and her children moved in with us while I was at work the following day. Boxes, suitcases, and toys littered the foyer and spilled into the living room when I opened the door. If I’d been told it was happening, I couldn’t remember. It was a shock to come home from interviewing an elderly gentleman who lived down the street from Frankie to find the house in bedlam.

  “He took my doll,” Holly wailed at the top of her lungs from the middle of the staircase as I stood in the doorway.

  “Did not,” James screamed over the banister above her. “I don’t have your stupid doll.”

  Somewhere in the house, Buddy was crying and Mary yelled to her older children to stop arguing. They ran back upstairs, bickering loudly before a door slammed, muffling their voices.

  My instincts told me to flee. I could escape to Grandma Lorena’s and no one would be the wiser. Besides, I truly did need to talk with Grandma. Frankie’s story about Burton Hall sparked more questions that were beginning to demand answers.

  “Rena, I’m glad you’re home.” Mama rounded the corner from the kitchen with Buddy in her arms, trapping me before I could get away. His thumb was tucked in his mouth and his eyes drooped. “I’m going to put the baby down for a nap. Mary’s cooking dinner. She could use your help.”

  She passed by me, cooing to the little boy, and climbed the stairs.

  “How was your day, Rena?” I whispered sarcastically after she’d disappeared. I took off my hat and coat and hung them in the hall closet. “Did you meet anyone interesting, Rena?”

  I knew I was being as childish as my niece and nephews, but would it kill Mama to show a little interest in me?

  Mary stood at the counter snapping green beans when I walked into the kitchen. She glanced up and offered a small smile, but I could tell she’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

  She sniffled. “The kids are hungry.”

  I nodded and set to work peeling a pile of potatoes. We stood beside each other in silence. I didn’t know what to say to my sister. Her life was a wreck.

  “Daddy thinks I should file for divorce.”

  I looked up, surprised. Not just by her statement, but that our father had actually crawled from his hole to offer his daughter advice.

  “Are you going to do it?” Divorce wasn’t common in our circle, but it did happen.

  She shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, Mary.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  Mama returned to the kitchen. “I put him down in my room since the children are playing in yours.” She opened the oven door and peeked inside. The aroma of roast beef wafted out before she closed it again, offering me a pleasant surprise. A cut of beef was expensive, so we didn’t have it often.

  Her gaze landed on me. “Rena, please go down to Mother’s and walk back with her. She’s joining us for dinner.”

  I leaped at the opportunity and hurried from the house.

  The sun clung to the edge of the horizon and filled the sky with muted shades of orange and blue. I loved autumn in Nashville. Crisp air nipped at my nose, and the hint of woodsmoke told me someone in the neighborhood thought it cold enough for a fire in the fireplace. Winter would be here soon enough, and though we didn’t receive too much snow, cold days would keep me inside more often than I wished.

  Grandma was in her bedroom sitting at a small dressing table when I arrived.

  “How was your day, dear?” she asked as she ran a comb through her short gray curls.

  I sat on her bed. “Good. I met an interesting gentleman who went out west after the war. He had all kinds of wild stories to tell.”

  Grandma chuckled. “No doubt. Your grandfather always talked about going west, but thankfully we stayed right here in Nashville.” Her eyes met mine in the reflection of the mirror. “How is Mary, poor girl? It breaks my heart to see her little family move in with your parents.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Dad wants her to file for divorce.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Oh no. I hope it doesn’t come to that.�
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  I shrugged. “Homer is a fool and a cheat. I wouldn’t blame her if she left him for good.”

  We walked into the living room. While she went to get a coat, I looked at the black-and-white photographs on the mantel. Some were of her and my grandfather in their younger years. A cute little girl grinned in another, and I wondered when my mother had stopped smiling like that.

  “I’m ready.” Grandma waited for me by the door.

  We linked arms and started for home.

  “Grandma, do you know anyone by the name Hall? I feel as though I’ve heard that last name before.”

  She smiled. “Why, yes, dear. My grandmother’s maiden name was Hall.”

  A tremor swept through me. “What was her name?”

  “Helen. Helen Hall Morris.”

  I let out a breath full of relief. That must be where I’d heard the name before. As common as it was, I’d felt unsettled ever since Frankie mentioned it. Thankfully, Grandma’s answer put those feelings to rest.

  “Why do you ask, dear?”

  We turned onto the walk leading to the front porch of my house. A carpet of gold and brown leaves decorated the concrete and lawn. “Frankie mentioned a family named Hall. I knew I’d heard it before, yet I couldn’t recall where. But the person Frankie knew was named Charlotte, not Helen.”

  Grandma turned to face me, surprise in her widened eyes.

  “Rena, my grandmother had a younger sister. Her name was Charlotte.”

  The meal dragged on all night, or so it seemed.

  Dad made a rare appearance at the table. He sat next to Buddy’s high chair and seemed to enjoy the antics of his two-year-old grandson. Holly sat on one side of Grandma Lorena while James sat on the other side, both of them bickering and vying for Grandma’s attention. Mama tried to keep Mary engaged in conversation about anything but her sad predicament.

  I endured all this while keeping an eye on the clock. Were the hands on its face even moving? I was desperate to get Grandma alone.

  One dreadful thought soured my stomach and prevented me from appreciating the fine meal.