by Joyce Hansen
Miss Grantley adjusted her little round glasses, which seemed always to slide down her thin nose. “Easter, you are learning everything so quickly. If you continued your studies, you could be a wonderful student.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Easter said proudly. She liked Miss Grantley and often wondered whether all Yankee women were as kind as she was.
“The missionary society has a school in Philadelphia for superior colored students. I’m going to ask them to sponsor you. I could try and get them to cover some of your costs— and maybe we could find a good colored family for you to live with.” She pushed a wisp of her wavy brown hair out of her eyes. “You would be the first student freed from slavery that the school ever had. Easter, would you like to go north, to Philadelphia?”
Easter’s mind flashed to the missionary lady who’d offered to carry her and Jason north. She smiled as she remembered how frightened she was of the woman. Then she remembered why she hadn’t wanted to leave at that time.
“I can’t leave here. I have to find Obi,” she said.
“Who is Obi?” Miss Grantley asked. She listened intently as Easter related her history. “You can come back and seek him out when you complete school,” Miss Grantley said when Easter had finished.
“I love school, but I can’t leave. What about Jason? Can’t leave him.”
Miss Grantley pressed her thin lips together and shook her head. “Jason wouldn’t do too well at the school. He’s smart, but he doesn’t care about school—or anything serious, I’m afraid—the way you do.”
Easter knew that Miss Grantley was right about Jason, but that made no difference to her. “I can’t leave Jason. And then, I so far away from Obi.”
“Easter, you don’t know exactly where Obi is. And Jason, well, he can stay here with Rose.”
“Oh no, Miss Grantley. Jason has to come with me.”
“Well, maybe he can come with you and go to school in a colored orphanage. But I hate to see someone like you not get the education that she deserves.” She looked worried as she rested her hand on Easter’s shoulder. “And you know, Easter, when you finish your studies, you can come back here and teach your own people. There’s much work to be done.”
Easter faltered. “Miss Grantley, I don’t know, I …”
“Will you think about it? You’d be a wonderful teacher. You can return when the war ends and find your young man then.”
“Suppose it never ends.”
“Wars always end, sometime.”
“Suppose Yankee don’t win, and I up north. I never get back here.”
Easter could tell that Miss Grantley seemed a little concerned. She tried to put a confident smile on her face. “We’re going to win. It’s just a matter of time.”
Easter left the school feeling herself pulled two different ways. She gripped the two baskets tightly as she passed the cabins and headed toward the cookhouse. It would be wonderful to go to school and learn how to read all of the books. She’d be like Miss Grantley, a good, fine teacher. But how could she leave Jason? What would happen to him without her?
And what about Obi? Suppose he was nearby this minute, searching for her? He’d never find her up north. She even thought about Mariah and Gabriel. If she went north, she’d probably never see them again.
Charlotte pulled at her skirt. “Miss Easter, you tellin’ us a story? Then you an’ me make baskets?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Me too?” Charlotte’s younger sister asked.
“Yes.” Easter smiled at her and checked the field to see whether Jason was there. She spotted him by the Yankee cap that one of the soldiers who sometimes came to the plantation had given him.
Easter placed the babies’ baskets on the ground when she reached the shed. Her mind wandered as she began to fix lunch. For some reason everything she saw seemed beautiful: the blue sky and the orchards; the southern pines and palmettoes and live oak trees with the moss hanging from their branches like cobwebs; the green fields and pastures. What was the North like? She’d mostly heard that it was cold.
That evening while they ate, she watched the faces of her friends, and they seemed beautiful too. Her heart felt heavy when she looked at them and thought about going north. She might never see them again either.
They sat at a pine table that Paul had made for them. He’d also made another bench so that they all could eat at the table. Easter’s rugs and several baskets decorated the wall. The hut was overcrowded but cozy, made livable by the women.
As she watched Rayford eat, she thought she’d miss even him. Although he was bossy, Easter had to agree with Rose, who said, “What Rayford say is most times correct, Easter.” She’d always be thankful to him for being the first person to teach her how to read and write. He’d smile pleasantly at her when he walked by as she was caring for the babies, even though he’d still say, “You need to get some land.”
They usually ate in silence. “Too hungry to talk,” Rose would comment. But this evening it seemed that all Rose and Rayford did was talk, which was unlike Rayford. Easter wanted to ask them what they thought about her going north, but she couldn’t get a chance to say anything. Even Melissa noticed Rayford’s changed personality.
“You actin’ like a young boy, old man,” she joked.
“He ain’t no old man,” Rose defended him. Her dark eyes seemed livelier than usual. Then she hesitated as if she had something else to say but wasn’t certain how to say it. “We been livin’ like a family, so I guess you’ll be the first to get the news—me and Rayford is marryin’. A real marriage too. No slave marriage, where someone could sell him away from me or me away from him.”
“That’s why I never married before,” Rayford added, “because it didn’t mean anything.” He rubbed Rose’s arm. “And I never met anyone as beautiful as Rose.”
“Or who could cook like Rose.” Sarah winked.
Easter found her voice. She knew there was a special feeling between Rose and Rayford, but marriage? She never thought of that. “Oh, Rose, it’s wonderful,” she said, embracing her.
Rose frowned. “We have to find a minister who will marry us.”
Easter waved her hand. “You could find a minister easy.”
Rayford picked up his spoon. “One preacher already refused. Said that just because President Lincoln signed that Emancipation Proclamation doesn’t mean we’re really free. He said maybe we weren’t slaves, but we weren’t citizens either.”
“And another preacher refused too,” Rose added. “He say we belong to the Yankee now, so let them marry us.”
“Pull up them long faces,” Melissa said. “You’ll find a preacher, and we goin’ to have a celebration.” As Rose, Melissa, and Sarah chatted about the wedding, Easter decided not to say anything about her problem. She’d have to make her own decision in the end, so she joined their conversation.
“And that ain’t all, Easter,” Rose said excitedly. “Mr. Reynolds say we can buy one of them cottages near the big house that used to be for the house servants on this place. We have two whole rooms.”
Easter tried to concentrate on Rose’s conversation but she couldn’t help thinking about Obi. Wondering whether they’d ever be together again. And a thought she’d never had before—whether someday they’d be like Rose and Rayford and get married. But suppose she went north? What would happen then?
“Easter!” Rose said. “You ain’t listening to a word I saying.”
“Yes, I am, Rosie. I thinking about marriages and weddings. And we have to get busy to make you a good wedding.”
Easter and the other women prepared for the wedding, even though no one knew when it would take place. “We’ll be ready when it happen,” Isabel said as she wove the cotton yarn in the spinning house one evening for Rose’s wedding dress.
Easter picked up the carding brush so that she could comb the cotton fibers. “Maybe they could get that preacher who visit here sometime,” she suggested.
“He boring,” Isabel said.
Another woman who was helping them laughed. “It only take ten minutes to say them marriage words. We tell him to just marry Rose and Rayford and don’t preach.”
The wedding preparations helped Easter forget her own problems for a while. Rayford shook his head one evening as he watched Easter hem the white cotton dress Isabel had made for Rose. “You know what look right pretty, Rose?” Easter asked. “Isabel get some more of this cloth and we wrap your head in it.”
“Oh no. That look like I workin’ in the field,” Rose protested.
Easter thought about Mariah. “The old grandmother down at the coast tell me that in Africa only the important women tie their head in white cloth.”
Rayford smiled at them. “You womenfolk gone mad on this plantation. We still don’t have a preacher to marry us. I found out that the visiting white preacher’s not licensed to marry or bury anybody. He’s like our Brother Thomas.”
Rose fingered the dress. “We find somebody.”
“In the meantime,” Melissa said, “we ain’t had nothing to celebrate in years. Now we do.”
Rayford came home with the good news a week later. He’d found a judge who’d marry them. “We have two names now,” he told Rose. “We have to sign a paper before a judge, and the judge will marry us tomorrow. It’ll be legal.”
Easter grinned happily. “Now we have our wedding.”
Melissa put the wooden plates on the table. “Tomorrow is Sunday. A fine day for a marriage.”
“I glad I learn how to write some. I can sign my own name. What’s my second name, Rayford?”
“I picked my father’s first name. I remember my mother told me that their master called him Sam, but his real name was Sabay. So I am now Rayford Sabay.” He held out his hand and bowed to Rose. “And this is my wife, Rose Sabay.”
Easter liked the sound of Rose’s new name. If she ever had to get a second name, she had no idea what it would be. She thought about Obi. Easter Obi, she thought, giggling to herself, that sounds right silly.
Chapter
Nine
My mother’s sons were angry with me,
they made me keeper of the vineyards;
but, my own vineyard I have not kept!
Song of Solomon 1:6
June 1863
God smilin’ on us today, Easter thought. Everyone was there, even the cook, who only associated with them when she had something to sell. The sky was clear and blue and the air smelled of pine, and the pink and white magnolia trees were still in bloom.
It was a day far removed from the blood and pain and horror of war and bondage. Instead of having church service inside the log house, they decided the Sunday service should be held outside, “under God’s roof,” as Brother Thomas said. Service would begin when Rose and Rayford returned from the judge who would marry them.
Everyone had brought a bench, a box, or a chair to sit on. Tables covered with oilcloth were placed near the kitchen shed. People brought whatever food they could spare, and Easter and some of the other women had stayed up late into the night baking pies.
Julius sat in front of Easter. Every minute he turned around to say something to her. “Will you write to me when I join the army?”
“Yes. I told you I would. But when you get to them other islands, remember to ask about Obi.”
“Okay,” he said, looking disappointed. “But when I get to the other island, mostly I remember how pretty you look today.”
Easter wore a new homespun dress that Isabel had made for her. Isabel had dyed it with indigo, and the violet shade complemented Easter’s nut brown complexion. She’d let out her black hair, which framed her face like a dark, cottony mist. Miss Grantley sat next to her, and Easter hoped that she wouldn’t ask her about going north today. She didn’t want to think about anything that might trouble her.
The crowd stirred; they’d spotted Rose and Rayford walking toward them. James, Brother Thomas’s son, had driven them to the judge in his wagon. Everyone clapped and stood up when the couple neared them. Rayford waved the marriage license like a flag. Rose’s unblemished mahogany-colored skin was enhanced by the white dress and head wrap. Rayford wore the white pants and shirt that he used to wear on the Phillips plantation.
“They are a handsome couple,” Miss Grantley murmured, adjusting her glasses.
Brother Thomas sat them in front of everyone else. Julius turned around to Easter. “Bet you look as beautiful as Rose when you get marry.”
“Hush,” was all she said as her face grew warm. She hoped that Julius wouldn’t pester her all day long.
They had all scrubbed themselves and had mended and washed their garments and made as fine an appearance as they could muster for Rayford and Rose. Jason wore his Sunday pants, a pair of long trousers that must have belonged to one of the former master’s children. Easter was angry at him for paying the cook two dollars for the trousers and another ruffled shirt. She snatched his Yankee forage cap off his head. “We havin’ church,” she whispered. There were gingham dresses and homespun dresses dyed various shades of blue, overalls, trousers, and plaid shirts, and in some cases, suits. Brother Thomas’s smile was as broad as his back as he stepped before the congregation.
“We have a marriage to celebrate,” Virginia shouted. “Don’t preach into Eternity, Brother Thomas.”
Easter thanked God for the day and then blocked out Thomas’s oratory, thinking about Obi instead—imagining that she and Obi were sitting where Rose and Rayford were. She then joined in the singing, which was particularly joyful that Sunday. When the church service was over, several women brought out sweet potato pies and placed them on one of the tables. Samuel, Elias, and some of the other men had dug a barbecue pit.
Julius nudged Easter. “The only part of that pig they ain’t cookin’ is the oink.”
“I have to go and help the women bring the food out,” she said, and left her seat to go to the cooking shed. She wanted to get away from Julius.
Easter helped bring out the steaming bowls of rice and peas. Some of the men had gone hunting for wild turkey, against army regulations. Easter glanced at Rose, who blossomed as she sat like a queen greeting her friends. Rayford stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He smiled happily. Never knew Rayford was so handsome, Easter said to herself as she returned to the cooking shed.
“I never see Mister Ray smile like he doin’ today,” Isabel remarked as she helped Easter pile more rice into a bowl.
“Hope he don’t hurt he face,” Easter joked. She looked at Sarah, who stood next to her, carving the turkey. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and was shocked when tears streamed down Sarah’s weary face.
“I had a husband one time, but it was only a slave marriage. He was sold away. I never see him again.”
Melissa stopped what she was doing and put her arms around Sarah. “Don’t think about that. Things changin’ now, can’t you see?”
Easter watched the two women. There’s always something sad to think about, even during a happy time, she said to herself. She scanned the people milling around the tables, but she didn’t see Jason. “Jason suppose to be helpin’ us carry this food out,” she said to Virginia.
“There he is with the banjo picker.” Virginia pointed beyond the tables.
“We can forget about help from him once Weston start pluckin’ that banjo,” Mary remarked. People started clapping to the banjo’s rhythm, and Jason moved his lithe body as if he were being plucked like one of the strings. Even Miss Grantley clapped as she watched Jason.
“Folks are enjoyin’ Jason so much they’ll get mad if I make him come and help us,” Easter said, bobbing her head to the music.
After everyone had eaten, the celebration really began. Brother Thomas’s voice was heard everywhere. He shouted to one of his sons, “James, get that wagon and go fetch the old fiddler from the Johnson place!”
Brother Thomas’s wife, Anna, who’d always lived on the plantation, snapped her fingers. “That old man make these trees
dance,” she said.
James returned with an old man who could hardly climb out of the wagon. Easter tried not to laugh when Mary said, “He look like he can’t even hold the fiddle, much less play it.”
He toddled over to Weston, slowly adjusting his instrument under his chin. But when he fiddled, it was as if he had magic in his bow. No foot was still. He and Weston played, and Rayford and Rose led the circle of dancers. Melissa took Elias’s hand and they too joined the dancers.
Julius approached Easter with his hand out and a grin on his face. She accepted his hand and was caught in the old fiddler’s magic, forgetting for a while about Obi, Miss Grantley, and going north.
The next day was work as usual for everyone. Rose was back in her fields, with a worn-out Jason helping her in the afternoon. Easter knew that she’d have to give Miss Grantley an answer soon, and as she walked from her hut to the school, she made her decision.
Even Miss Grantley tried to stifle several yawns as she pried answers out of her weary students. When the class was over, Easter approached her.
“Miss Grantley, I can’t leave Jason here, and I can’t leave without knowing where Obi is.” She averted her eyes from the teacher’s disappointed face. “Suppose Obi come here and no one know where I am?”
“We can leave word, Easter. Rayford or Rose or any one of the people here could tell him where you are.”
“Suppose Rose and Rayford leave, and these other people forget where you tell them I gone ’cause you leave too. People comin’ and goin’ all the time.”
Miss Grantley sighed. “That they are, Easter. But I don’t think your going north will hurt your chances of finding Obi.”
“Another thing too, ma’am. I don’t know nothing about the North.”
“Easter, I’ll write to the commander on Hilton Head Island where I hear colored soldiers are being trained. You say Obi is just a little older than you, so there’s a good chance that he is a soldier.”
“Oh no, Miss Grantley. Soldiers get killed.” Easter tried to control herself, but she couldn’t stop the tears. “Maybe he dead.”