Angels Watching Over Me (Shenandoah Sisters Book #1)

by Phillips, Michael

  ‘‘Even those letters?’’

  She shook her head. ‘‘But you can look through them if you like,’’ she said, handing me the letters.

  ‘‘I don’t know what I’d be looking for.’’

  ‘‘Well, I’d like you to anyway, just in case,’’ she said.

  We got to the little office and went in.

  ‘‘I want you to look through all of it,’’ said Katie, pointing to the desk.

  ‘‘But, Miss Katie, I can hardly read compared to you.’’

  ‘‘But you might see something important.’’

  ‘‘All right, if you want me to, but—’’

  ‘‘I do. You were right when you told me I should decide what to do,’’ she said. ‘‘But I haven’t. I’m afraid, Mayme. I don’t want to go live with any of my uncles, and Mama says her sister in the North is mad at us. I don’t know what to do, Mayme. I want to tell someone the truth, but . . .’’

  She began to cry.

  ‘‘All right, Miss Katie,’’ I said as comfortingly as I knew how. ‘‘I’ll try to help you figure out what to do. But you sit here with me.’’

  I sat down in the big desk chair and looked through the mail again more slowly this time. I saw a short note that was just a sheet of paper folded twice.

  ‘‘Who’s this Mr. Taylor?’’ I asked, looking at the signature.

  ‘‘The man at the bank,’’ Katie answered.

  ‘‘What does this say?’’ I said, handing her the sheet.

  ‘‘It says he wants to talk to my mama,’’ she said, then read from the paper, ‘‘ ‘about the balance of one of the loans that’s due in September to clear off the first lien against the plantation.’ ’’

  ‘‘What does that mean?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Katie, shaking her head. ‘‘I took some money to him for Mama once.’’

  ‘‘Let’s look at the letter from your uncle Ward again,’’ I said. ‘‘Where did you put it?’’

  ‘‘I think it’s in one of these cubbyholes . . . here it is,’’ said Katie, pulling it out and unfolding it.

  ‘‘Read it to me again,’’ I said.

  Katie repeated what she had read before, then kept going.

  ‘‘ ‘I got to do something with it,’ ’’ she read. ‘‘ ‘There’s men who think the way to git rich is taking from men who’s done the work rather than finding it for theirselves. I broke my back for three years to git this, and I ain’t gonna let them steal it now. Maybe you can help, Rosie. But I wouldn’t do nothing to put you in no danger. I only might need a place to stash it for a spell.’ ’’ ‘‘Who’s Rosie?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘My mama,’’ Katie replied.

  ‘‘Oh . . . all right, keep going,’’ I said.

  ‘‘ ‘I’m leaving California directly. It’s getting too crowded with newcomers and folks who’ll do you in if you don’t watch yourself. I got me plenty to last awhile, enough to make me a stake for a small spread someplace, if only I can git out of it alive and stay a few steps ahead of them.’ ’’

  ‘‘Who’s he talking about?’’ I asked.

  Katie shook her head.

  ‘‘I don’t know anything about it,’’ she said. ‘‘ ‘So I’ll be there directly, Rosie,’ ’’ Katie read. ‘‘ ‘Whatever you do, don’t tell Templeton I’m coming. I got a feeling he’d be after what I got too if he found out.’ ’’

  ‘‘What does it mean?’’ I asked again.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Katie.

  ‘‘Did he ever come?’’

  ‘‘I never saw him if he did,’’ she said.

  ‘‘So you only know this uncle here, this Templeton,’’ I said.

  ‘‘I’ve seen my uncle Burchard a few times too,’’ she said. ‘‘Like I told you, his farm is on the other side of Charlotte. But he doesn’t like Daddy. Mama said once that Uncle Burchard thinks Rosewood ought to be his because he’s older than Daddy.’’

  ‘‘What did she mean?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ replied Katie.

  THE GOOD BOOK

  26

  IWOKE UP EARLIER THAN USUAL THE NEXT morning. It was barely getting light and was still real quiet, though I heard the roosters starting about their morning racket.

  I don’t know what made me wake up so early. But I knew Katie wouldn’t be up for an hour or more and I couldn’t go back to sleep.

  I got dressed and went downstairs, checked the fire, and added a couple of fresh logs. It was even too early to milk the cows. I went out for my necessaries, then came back into the parlor. I wasn’t really thinking much of anything when I found myself standing in front of the bookshelves. We didn’t go into the parlor much. Katie said the curtains had to be drawn closed all the time, since some of the windows were still broken, as well as to keep the sun off the fine furniture.

  I hadn’t really paid much attention to the books here since the day we started cleaning things up and putting them all away. Most of the books we’d been reading from were on a shelf in Katie’s room. But once in a while I saw her standing in front of this big bookshelf and looking at the books, like they were full of memories. It was not a feeling I’d ever had about a book. But I could tell Katie thought they were special just from the way she held them in her hands.

  I had found myself starting to feel that way about the books we read together. Once you knew what was inside them, they seemed to hold secret treasures— their words and stories became friends. I’m sure a lot of these books in the parlor reminded Katie of her mama. She said her mama used to read to her a lot.

  On this morning I found myself staring at the shelves like Katie did, and then my eyes fell on a great big book, bigger than any four or five books put together, lying flat on one of the lower shelves. I’d never noticed it before, not even when we’d been picking the books up off the floor. I reckon Katie must have put it there.

  I tried to pull it out, but it was heavy. I had to use both hands to lift it. I carried it to the sofa and sat down with it in my lap and opened it. The words on the first page in fancy writing said Holy Bible.

  I kept turning and came to several pages in the front with writing on them, names and dates. Then near the bottom in small writing I saw Katie’s name— Kathleen O’Bannon Clairborne, with the date 1850.

  It wasn’t long before I realized this was a list of Katie’s kin, with the dates of their births and deaths and marriages and everything. I saw some of the names Katie had told me about, Templeton and Ward and Nelda and Burchard. I can’t remember if Katie had told me her mama and papa’s names before this or not, but now I saw that their names were Richard and Rosalind, and that she’d had three brothers, Joseph, Caleb, and Jason.

  I don’t know why, but seeing all those names in that list suddenly made me sad—more sad than I had been since I had come there.

  I couldn’t help remembering that I had no family left at all, leastways that I knew about. But here was a whole list of people who were Katie’s family—some of them dead and others far away.

  Then I got real lonely, lonelier than I’d ever been in my life. I couldn’t help myself, I just started to cry.

  I was completely alone. I didn’t have anybody else in the whole world who cared about me or that would take care of me.

  I don’t know why the thought hadn’t come to me before, but all at once I realized that I was an orphan!

  The word sounded horrible to think it, much less say out loud. I just sat there quietly crying for a long time.

  Gradually I found myself looking down at the Bible still in my lap. I looked at the names again, blurry through my tears. And I was reminded of Katie’s parents and what had happened to them. And then it dawned on me—Katie was an orphan too.

  Then I cried all over again, this time for Katie.

  Without really thinking what I was doing, I put the Bible down on the sofa and slowly walked back up the stairs. I went into Katie’s room and went to the bed, to
ok off my shoes, pulled back the blanket, and crawled in next to Katie.

  The movement disturbed her and she woke up.

  ‘‘What is it?’’ she said sleepily.

  ‘‘It’s all right, Miss Katie,’’ I said. ‘‘It’s nothing. I just got real sad that’s all.’’ I choked back some tears. ‘‘I wanted to be next to you. I hope you don’t mind.’’ My voice sounded all quavery.

  ‘‘I’m sorry, Mayme,’’ she said, moving to face me.

  ‘‘It’s nice and warm in here.’’

  She put her arms around me and pulled me tight.

  ‘‘You’re always taking care of me,’’ she said. ‘‘So now we’ll pretend I’m your mama for a change.’’

  I snuggled up close to her. I felt better already. Pretty soon we both went back to sleep, lying there side by side.

  ————

  After we got up later, I showed Katie the Bible and told her what I’d been thinking. We sat down close together for a long time with it between us looking through it, looking at the pictures of Bible scenes. Every once in a while Katie would read a verse or two out loud.

  I sat thinking how good it would be to be able to read ‘‘the Good Book,’’ as my mama used to call it, for myself. I would work real hard and practice with the stories in the McGuffey Readers like Katie suggested. We had already gone through four or five more stories. It was starting to get easier and I was beginning to recognize words more quickly.

  As I sat there I also found myself remembering things from my life I hadn’t thought of in a while, the sound of spirituals in the evening around the fire.

  One of my favorites was ‘‘Steal Away.’’ I could hear them singing it even now, slow and deep and with men finding harmonies down low, and women finding them up high.

  Steal a-way, steal a-way . . . steal a-way to Jesus.

  Steal a-way, steal a-way . . . steal a-way home.

  I ain’t got long to stay here.

  It almost made me cry just to hear it in my mind.

  I remembered the grown-ups talking about slavery and the children of Israel in Egypt. ‘‘Ole Pharaoh,’’ my grandpapa said, ‘‘he treat de Israelites jist like de white folks treat us. But someday, we’ll git outta our Egypt too. Don’ know who our Moses’ll be, but he’ll come along by’n by.’’

  And then the song made it seem like we were the children of Israel ourselves.

  Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt’s land. Tell ole Pharaoh, Let my people go . . .

  Once the songs started in my brain, I couldn’t get them to stop.

  Oh, freedom, oh, freedom, oh, freedom. An’ befo’ I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave, an’ go home to my Lord an’ be free . . . sounded through my memory.

  All night, all day, angels watching over me, my Lord . . .

  Again my grandpapa’s voice came back to me. This time I could hear him saying, ‘‘Neber leave what der Good Book say, chil’ . . .’’ and, ‘‘Whatever else you do, always make sho’ you do what He tells you. . . .’’

  Then my mama saying, ‘‘You be a good girl, Mayme, chil’. Dat day’s a comin’ ’for long, a day I might not live to see. But you’ll see it. You’ll be a free black girl one day, Mayme, so you make me proud, little girl.’’

  And then the sound of singing again . . .

  Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay.

  Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away.

  Gone from the earth to a better land I know.

  I hear their gentle voices calling, Old Black Joe.

  The slave life had been a hard life, I reckon, harder for grown-ups than for a girl like me. But it still had some good memories that were now gone forever.

  Whatever became of me, I’d never be with my family again. I’d likely end up with some other colored folks—maybe with a family someplace. They’d be family to each other.

  But not me. I’d always be the orphan girl without a family of her own. I could almost hear their voices calling, not for old black Joe, but for the ‘‘orphan girl.’’ That’s probably what they’d call me too.

  I cried to think of my mama, and her words kept haunting me . . . ‘‘Be a good girl . . . a free black girl . . . make me proud.’’

  I came back to myself and Katie and me were still sitting beside each other, and Katie was still slowly thumbing through the pages, pausing occasionally to look at a picture or a verse.

  Suddenly an idea came to me. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  My mama had had a Bible too, smaller one than this—nice, though it was real old. She always looked around like she didn’t want anyone to see it or know that she had it when she pulled it out of its hiding place. I’d never thought about it, but maybe it wasn’t ours, or maybe Mama thought someone would take it away. She read to us out of it every once in a while.

  What if Mama’s Bible had the names of my family in it? I thought.

  Maybe I had kinfolk still alive too! I might not be able to find where they were. But if I could find out their names, that would be more than I knew now. And maybe I could find them someday.

  ‘‘Miss Katie,’’ I said excitedly. ‘‘I just remembered that my mama had a Bible too. I gotta go back to where we lived and see if I can find it.’’

  ‘‘Can I go with you?’’ she asked.

  Suddenly my wild idea didn’t sound so good. What if we were seen? What if someone else came here while we were gone and found Rosewood empty?

  Katie must have already thought the same thing.

  ‘‘What if someone comes while we’re gone?’’ she wondered.

  ‘‘Maybe it’s not too good an idea,’’ I nodded. We sat quietly for a while, then I said, ‘‘But I gotta go. I gotta see if I can find the Bible and if I have any kin left. I want to know.’’

  ‘‘Please let me go with you,’’ Katie begged. ‘‘We’ll just hope nobody comes while we’re gone.’’

  ‘‘I suppose we could get up real early and ride fast—’’

  ‘‘Yes, let’s!’’ said Katie.

  ‘‘All right,’’ I said. ‘‘We’ll go tomorrow.’’

  RETURN

  27

  IDIDN’T SLEEP MUCH THAT NIGHT, AND I WAS up before dawn. I had to wake Katie and she was pretty sleepy at first. But after we’d had a quick breakfast, she was wide-awake. The danger of it made it seem like an adventure, and we were both pretty keyed up—excited and scared at the same time.

  Even though I hadn’t been paying that much attention when I’d wandered into Rosewood, as I’d thought about it since, I had some idea which way I’d come. I hadn’t been but a few miles or so from my old plantation in the past, but somehow I was pretty sure I could find it. And when I told Katie that our master’s name had been McSimmons, she said she remembered that name being associated with a family on the other side of Greens Crossing, she thought toward the east. That seemed to make sense to me. So that’s the direction we headed.

  We rode on two horses rather than hitching up a buggy, so we could go through fields and woods if we needed to. We went on the roads at first and rode as fast as we could manage. But once the sun was good and on its way into the sky, I led us off the roads and we stayed in woodsy areas where we wouldn’t be seen.

  I told Katie that sometimes one of our master’s men would gather some of us young’uns in a wagon and take us off to collect wood. Looking around, I started seeing things I recognized. Not long after that I knew my way, and pretty soon I knew we were getting close to the McSimmons plantation and its colored town.

  We came through a woods to the edge of a field, and I could see the house and other buildings I recognized. We watched carefully for a while but saw no signs of life. We dismounted and walked our horses across the field.

  I had no idea what we would find. All kinds of strange feelings started surging through me as we approached. I got real scared, like those men might still be around, even though from the quiet I was pretty sure nobody was.

  We
walked up slowly past the big house in the distance and down the road to the slave quarters. Everything was just like I left it, except the bodies I hadn’t been able to bury weren’t there. I don’t know what happened to them. Otherwise, it didn’t look like a soul had been there since I’d left myself. The only sign that anybody’d ever lived there was the smell from the outhouses.

  Katie looked around.

  ‘‘You lived here?’’ she asked in a shocked tone. Clearly she had never seen such a place before, never even imagined that people would live in such a place.

  Since the time I’d spent in her mama and daddy’s house, it all looked a little different, a little worse, in my eyes too—the tumbled-down shacks, the dirt, the pitiful garden patches now all gone to weeds.

  It’s funny how things can look the same but different. It had only been—I didn’t even know how long it had been . . . maybe a few weeks or a month. Katie and I had lost track of time. But as I stood there, it felt like a year—a lifetime—had passed. Everything I saw was from another time, almost like the person I remembered who had lived here, the girl I could picture in my mind, was somebody else and not me at all.

  Having the two parts of me—the old and the new—looking at each other right then couldn’t help but make me feel thoughtful and strange and sad.

  I started to cry. Katie saw me and came over and put her arm around me. Just feeling her touch unleashed feelings I’d kept inside all this time.

  I sobbed out loud. I couldn’t help it. Maybe I suddenly realized that Katie was the only person I had in the whole world. And I didn’t know how much longer I’d even have her.

  I finally got myself calmed down. Slowly we started walking around. I remembered where I’d buried my ma and grandpapa and brothers and sisters, but I wasn’t quite ready to see that yet.

  I walked toward a little shanty.

  ‘‘That’s our house,’’ I said.

  Katie didn’t reply.

  I glanced over. Tears were spilling out of her eyes too, though quiet ones, not sobbing tears like mine had been. I moved toward the door. Katie hesitated. I reached out and took her hand. She followed me up the rickety steps, her hand tightly clutching mine. I couldn’t tell if she was afraid or just feeling some of the same kinds of things I was.