“What’s down there?” Sadie asked.
“These are the back stairs. They lead outside, to the kitchen,” she explained. “At least they did. Is the kitchen still a separate building?” she asked.
Lucie nodded.
“Peculiar!” Sammy said.
“Different, not peculiar,” Lisbeth corrected.
They went back to the main room.
She pointed and said, “My bed was there, my dressing table was there, and I used to look out this window every morning and every night. With my nurse.”
“What were you looking for?” Sammy asked.
Lisbeth remembered the twice-daily ritual soon after sunrise and just before sunset when the workers were going out to or coming in from the field. She had stood by Mattie, and together they would search for Samuel in the dots of people. As he got closer they both grew excited. Each evening he would hold up a different number of fingers. Lisbeth liked to predict what number he was going to do ahead of time. She wrote it down each day, so Mattie could report on the various numbers on her Sunday visits.
As a child it was an entertaining game. As she thought about it from her adult vantage point, it was unspeakably cruel. Mattie must have gone about her day accompanied by worry for Samuel.
Lisbeth had never explained that kind of detail from her own childhood to her children. It filled her with shame, and sorrow, to know that Mattie had been forced away from her own son because of her. Now that she was a parent, she could barely imagine the torment that Mattie had lived with for ten years. While Matthew and Lisbeth were vocal about their opposition to slavery, Lisbeth did not want Sadie and Sammy to know such contemptible details from her past.
Out loud she answered Sammy’s question. “We saw many things. The sunset, the sunrise, the workers in the fields, people in the quarters.”
“That’s where the slaves lived?” Sammy asked, suddenly very interested.
Lisbeth nodded. Sadie and Sammy walked over to the glass and stared out.
“It doesn’t look very nice,” Sammy said.
“The workers had to live somewhere,” Lisbeth justified without thought, but then she thought better and agreed. “No, it wasn’t very nice.”
“You had lots of slaves, didn’t you, Momma?” Sammy looked so disappointed.
Lisbeth took in a deep breath, then nodded.
“How could you? Didn’t you know it was wrong?” he asked, pain in his voice.
“It wasn’t my choice. Grandmother and Grandfather owned them, not me,” Lisbeth replied, sounding more defensive than she liked.
“Momma! It’s Miss Jordan!” Sadie cried out.
“Pardon me?” Lisbeth asked.
“I see Miss Jordan. Out there,” the girl explained.
“Sadie, that is impossible. I imagine you are seeing someone who looks similar to your teacher,” Lisbeth explained. “Miss Jordan is in Ohio, not Virginia.”
“Come see. Really, it is Miss Jordan. I promise!” Sadie pointed at the glass.
The children parted to make room for her. Lisbeth followed the direction of Sadie’s finger. Sure enough, standing outside Mattie’s old cabin, Miss Jordan was looking up at them. And Mattie was by her side. Lisbeth’s heart did the familiar lurch it made every time she saw her old nurse.
“Can I go see her?!” Sadie asked, excitement filling her voice.
Lisbeth’s head was spinning. It was surreal to be standing in her childhood room, looking down upon Mattie in the quarters. Time took on a peculiar quality, causing her to feel like a young girl and a mature woman at the same time. What strange circumstances would bring them both back to Fair Oaks after all these years? Lisbeth was torn. She wanted to let Sadie run down the back stairs to greet them, but her head told her that would be unwise—for all of them.
“Momma?” Sadie interrupted Lisbeth’s musings. “May I go?”
Lisbeth glanced at Lucie. The young woman’s face looked horrified at the suggestion. Lisbeth shook her head and composed herself.
“No, Sadie,” Lisbeth told her child. “It would be rude to intrude on the quarters without an invitation.”
Sadie tugged on Lisbeth’s hand. “Pleeease?”
Lisbeth gave her a sharp stare, and Sadie stopped speaking at once.
“Let’s return for dinner. We have seen enough,” Lisbeth said.
Just as they were sitting down at the table, Lisbeth realized she should have taken Sammy and Sadie aside and told them to avoid mentioning that they had seen Mattie and Jordan. It was too late now, so she silently telegraphed the message to her children.
“Is this the mash-potato table, Momma?” Sadie asked.
“You think our table is made from mashed potatoes?” Mr. Richards teased, feigning outrage.
Sadie laughed. “No! My momma spilled water into the mash potatoes when she was a girl, but her brother was blamed. She says it’s best to tell the truth because otherwise you may regret it for the rest of your life.”
Mary said, “I had forgotten about that event, but I was eating dinner here that night. You taught me that hand-clapping game after. Little Sally Walker!”
“This is the room where that happened, but not the table,” Lisbeth said. “That table is in Richmond with Grandmother and Grandfather Wainwright.”
“They took many of their belongings, leaving just the ones that would not fit in their new home. We were satisfied with that arrangement,” Mr. Richards said. “Right, Mother?”
Lisbeth was unsettled to hear a grown man using that term for his wife. Mrs. Richards silently nodded her agreement.
Out of the blue Mary asked, “Do you understand the rules of baseball?”
“Sammy knows all about it!” Sadie proclaimed.
“Then please explain it to us,” Mary requested. “All the soldiers returned enthusiastic about it. My children have asked, but I cannot explain it to them. I wish to keep up.”
Sammy launched into a detailed description, and for once Mr. Richards listened more than he spoke. He interrupted only to ask questions. Thankfully they managed to get through the rest of dinner on that one topic, and the children did not make any uncomfortable proclamations.
While Sammy was speaking, Lisbeth thought about Mattie and Jordan just a few feet away. She feared that being here at the same time might put them at risk somehow. There was nothing wrong about the fact that they knew one another in Oberlin, but she didn’t believe Mr. Richards would find it an amusing coincidence that they were visiting at the same time.
When supper ended Mr. Richards led them outside to the kitchen. The old man boomed from the wooden doorway, “Cook! We have a visitor for you!”
“Miss Elizabeth!” Cook exclaimed. “Look at you all grown-up!”
Cook marched over and wrapped Lisbeth in a giant hug. She pulled back and asked, “These your chil’ren?”
Lisbeth nodded. She was too choked up to speak. She hadn’t realized that Cook meant something to her, but it was so good to see her. As a child Lisbeth had been intimidated by this woman who had firm control over her own domain. Her knees had always shaken a bit on the rare occasion when she had to speak to Cook directly.
“She looks just like you! I could call you little Elizabeth,” Cook said to Sadie. “And you have your grandfather’s eyes,” she said to Sammy. “Your ma was a precious child, always thinkin’ of others as much as herself,” Cook told them. “She probabl’ too modest to tell you herself, but she was.”
Lisbeth cleared her throat, smiled, and said, “Thank you for a lovely dinner. I was especially appreciative of the oyster soup and young greens like you used to make when I was young. We don’t have oysters in Ohio.”
“My pleasure. Absolutely my pleasure! I ’membered you love those mustard greens!” Cook declared with a smile. “Have you looked around outside?”
Lisbeth shook her head.
“Well, you should,” Cook said. “Don’ you agree, Massa?”
That word was like a slap across the face. Cook seemed so hap
py; Lisbeth liked to think she would have been this friendly even if Mr. Richards weren’t watching, but there was no way to know how she would have behaved if he weren’t with them.
“Please, walk to the river, enjoy the view. I have correspondence I must attend to, so take your time,” Mr. Richards said.
Mary joined them as they explored outside. Lisbeth led them toward the James River and away from the quarters. She didn’t want to chance bumping into Mattie in case it would cause unwelcome tension or strife. She hoped the children had forgotten about seeing Miss Jordan.
They walked to the bank overlooking the river. She watched the muddy-brown water flow quickly to the east. Once again Lisbeth was thrown into a sentimental state. So many sweet memories flooded into her mind, most of them involving Mattie—hunting for yellow crocuses in the early spring, and picnics overlooking the river in the fall.
“Do you remember where this river starts?” Lisbeth asked Sammy.
“The Appalachians?” He answered her question with a question.
Lisbeth nodded. “And it flows to?”
“Jamestown and the Atlantic?” Sammy guessed.
“Mostly correct.” Lisbeth smiled at her son. “It flows into the Chesapeake Bay, which is attached to the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Can we go see the ocean?” Sadie asked.
“I’m sorry, Sadie, it’s too far.” Lisbeth shook her head. “I’ve never seen it myself.”
Sammy said, “This is the same river that is in Richmond, right?”
“Yes. The barges we see there pass by here on their way to the Atlantic, to the rest of our nation, and to the world,” Lisbeth said.
“If we wait here long enough will we see a barge?” Sadie asked.
Mary laughed. “My goodness, you have curious children. Mine don’t ask nearly so many questions. And I’m sure I would not have answers to them.”
“Momma, look.” Sadie pointed to the ground.
Lisbeth stared where her daughter pointed but did not see anything remarkable. She looked at Sadie with a question in her eyes. Sadie waved her closer and pointed down.
Sammy laughed. “Crocus leaves!”
Lisbeth didn’t see what Sammy was talking about, and then suddenly they popped out at her. Thin blades with a strip of white lay limp against the dirt among the grass. She smiled at her children and nodded.
“I wonder what color it was?” Sammy said.
“Yellow. I’m sure!” Sadie said. “I feel it in my bones.”
Lisbeth smiled at her daughter’s faith in the magic of the world, and her own certainty.
“Is that the tree, Momma?” Sammy asked, pointing to a large willow tree situated on a rise. Lisbeth looked at the impressive tree in the distance. Another wave of nostalgia crashed hard onto her.
“Yes,” Lisbeth said quietly.
“Where you took your naps when you were little and studied when you were older?” Sadie asked.
“That very tree,” Lisbeth said.
And where I taught Mattie’s Samuel to read, she thought to herself. At the time she had no idea that she was being rebellious by doing so. She’d often wondered if she would have done it had she realized she was betraying her parents—and the law. She liked to think she’d be brave enough to make that choice. By the time she understood the full ramifications of what she had done, she only wanted to keep it secret.
“Can we go under it?” Sadie pleaded.
Lisbeth looked at Mary, who nodded her agreement.
“Lead the way,” Lisbeth told her daughter.
Parting the long green branches was another step back into childhood. The smell, the shade, and the feeling of the air brought her to the many afternoons under this tree. She felt safe and at peace here. Deliberately she walked toward the center, feeling the spring of the moist earth under her feet. She rubbed her palm across the sturdy trunk, leaned her cheek against the rough bark, and gave the tree a hug.
“You were always so sentimental,” Mary said.
“I have missed being here,” Lisbeth said. “I cannot let it go so long next time.”
“I shall be glad to have your companionship once again.” Mary sounded pleased. “Letters are not the same.”
“I agree,” Lisbeth said. She took Mary’s hand, squeezed it, and smiled at her dear friend. It was reassuring to confirm that the politics of the day were not going to interfere with the fondness that they held for one another.
Lisbeth turned at the sound of laughter. Sammy and Sadie were chasing each other around the tree, darting in and out under the branches as they ran in a circle around the wide canopy. It was bittersweet to see them enjoying this sanctuary that had meant so much to her. If she had made a different choice, her children would have also grown up playing under this very tree. However they wouldn’t be Sadie and Sammy, these people that she loved so much.
Sadie ducked through the branches as she ran away from her brother. Lisbeth’s eyes traveled around the circumference to catch her reappearance. Sadie didn’t dart back into sight. Sammy stopped running; he looked at Lisbeth and shrugged.
Lisbeth walked to the edge where Sadie had disappeared. She parted the branches and stepped through. Sadie wasn’t there. Lisbeth’s pulse sped up. She twirled around to look for her daughter. No Sadie. She peered back under the branches but didn’t see her. Lisbeth frantically scanned the horizon and saw Sadie running down the slope, toward the quarters—straight to Jordan and Mattie.
CHAPTER 10
JORDAN
Fair Oaks plantation, Virginia
“Miss Jordan!” a high voice exclaimed.
Jordan spun around. Her head and her heart had a hard time reconciling what her eyes saw. Sadie Johnson was skipping straight toward her with a huge grin on her face. Before Jordan fully understood the situation, Sadie’s small arms were wrapped around her waist in a sweet hug, just like she greeted her at school.
Sadie beamed up at Jordan. “I can’t believe you are here! Where my momma used to live.”
Jordan looked up. Sure enough, Lisbeth Johnson was walking toward them with another White person. The very baby that Mama had been brought in to breastfeed and care for was also visiting Fair Oaks right now. Jordan was flustered by this improbable turn of events.
“Momma! Like I told you, it’s Miss Jordan and Mrs. Freedman,” Sadie said, pointing out the obvious.
Mama got that bittersweet look on her face that she always got when she saw Lisbeth Johnson. Kind of happy. Kind of sad. Today there was fear too.
“Hello.” Lisbeth nodded a simple greeting. Apparently she was nervous to be seeing them too.
“You are acquainted with these people?” a small White woman asked, contempt dripping from her voice.
“Mrs. Bartley, this is my teacher! Miss Jordan,” Sadie innocently and enthusiastically explained, unaware of the tension between the adults.
Lisbeth’s discomfort grew more visible.
“Oh,” the woman drew out. “Just one more difference between Virginia and Ohio.”
“She is my faaavorite teacher,” the little girl replied.
Jordan smiled at the six-year-old. “Thank you, Sadie. And you are one of my favorite students.”
The little woman got a puzzled look on her face and said, “Jordan?” Then she looked over at Mama with dawning realization. Slowly she said, “Mattie! My goodness. This is a strange turn of events.” She shook her head as if to clear it.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mama said, head bowed. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Her voice completely changed, the woman said, “Mattie, I am Mary. I knew you when I was a child.”
The submission in Mama’s eyes was replaced by wide-eyed wonder.
“Oh my,” Mama said. “I ’member you. Never was there such a well-behaved little girl. Look at you all growed up!”
“Thank you, Mattie. Yes. I am ‘all growed up.’ With children of my own now,” Mary said, as if she were talking to a child. “You look very well. What brings you back to Fair
Oaks?”
Jordan felt indignant on her mother’s behalf. This woman had gone from rude to patronizing in an instant.
“We here to see family. Jus’ a real quick visit. My son—you ’member Samuel—had some works in Richmond,” Mama lied, “so I say I gonna come along to take a little time to visit with my kin that still livin’ here.”
“Well, we do not want to intrude any longer upon your short time together,” Lisbeth said. “Sadie, say goodbye to Miss Jordan. You’ll see her soon enough,” Lisbeth directed her daughter.
Jordan knew she should just stay quiet, but she couldn’t help herself from challenging that White woman’s attitude by saying, “Bye, Sadie. See you at school. Remember to work on your letters.”
“I will. I promise.”
“You too, Sammy!” Jordan called out.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
Jordan got more than a hint of satisfaction having the White woman hear Sammy call her ma’am. It reminded her that whatever that Mary woman thought, it did not affect her accomplishments.
Mama watched the White people walk away. Once they were out of sight she let out a deep sigh.
“Well, that ain’t good. It only gonna cause trouble for Sarah. Why you rubbin’ it in that you they teacher?”
“You worried about Lisbeth?” Jordan asked.
Mama shook her head. “Not her. She smart about a thin’ like this. But little White girls don’ know not to talk. And that Mary always was one to keep to the rules.” Mama sighed.
The knot already in Jordan’s stomach got bigger. She didn’t fully understand why, but her mother believed they had put Sarah at risk. She prayed that Mama was wrong, but feared that she was right.
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