The Heart Calls Home

by Joyce Hansen

  “You go on with Miss Jeffries. Don’t lose that package now.” Scipio held Grace’s hand and looked back sadly at Obi, his eyes swimming in tears. “Go on now.” Obi could hardly look at them. “You act like a big boy now, and watch over your sisters.”

  When Obi boarded the ferry later on that morning, he found himself gazing at the crowd, but he didn’t see the children among the passengers, and that was best. They had to grow accustomed to their new situation. They might get the idea that they were going with him.

  Obi found a corner on the ferry and tried to relax during the two-hour trip to Santa Elena. He reached into his haversack and removed the letter he’d received from Easter a few days ago.

  July 3, 1868

  Dear Obi,

  I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I suppose you will soon be going to New Canaan. I wish I were there to welcome you back to civilian life after bravely fighting for our freedom. But September will be here soon and then we will have a grand celebration, for we have much to celebrate. I began my practice teaching today and assisted the principal teacher at the orphanage. Obi, I enjoyed it so very much. The children appreciate every kindness we show them. I think I will truly like this work. This is an orphanage for colored children. Some of them are the children of freed men and women, who left them in our care while they work, others are children who have always lived in Philadelphia.

  This evening, Miss Fortune’s sisters invited me to attend a musical recital with them and I had a fine time. The music and singing were beautiful. The sisters treat me as though I were one of them, but that is how the Fortunes are.

  Please write me as soon as you reach New Canaan. This letter is short, Obi, because the hour is late and I have to rise very early tomorrow. When you see Rose, give her and all my friends in New Canaan my love.

  Your Easter

  As Obi read the letter and recalled the sound of Easter’s voice, he had no idea that a pair of bright little eyes were fastened on him during the entire trip.

  When the ferry docked, a crowd of people got off. Many of them had been removed by the slaveholders who abandoned their plantations when the Yankees occupied the territory in 1861. They were now returning as free people to family and friends and the only place they’d ever lived. Some people were escaping the violence and persecution in other parts of the state. He also saw a great number of black veterans, like himself.

  The passengers were noisy and happy as they waved at the crowd on the dock. Besides the usual stevedores unloading the ferry, and the vendors selling fruit and other produce, the dock was covered with women and children waving small American flags. They had come to meet the returning veterans.

  Leaving the ferry, he slowly pushed through the crowd and headed for the large oak that pointed the way to New Canaan. He’d sent Rose a note, letting her know when he was arriving. She might be in her fields, so he’d look for her there first.

  Suddenly, he heard someone calling him excitedly and saw Rose rushing toward him with Little Ray in tow and Simon waving a small flag like the others. Rose embraced him.

  “Rosie, you shouldn’t take time from your work to meet me.”

  “I have to. All these soldier have someone here for them, Obi. Couldn’t let you come home without a welcome too.” Her eyes twinkled. “Easter wouldn’t like that, you know. I tell everyone you coming here. You’ll see them all tonight.”

  “Rosie, I told you, don’t make a fuss.”

  “It’s no fuss. We just so happy another one of us been found.”

  While Rose waved to several people, Little Ray kept turning around and pulling away from her. “Ray, what’s wrong?” She turned around also, and then stopped. “Well, who is these little ones following us?” she asked.

  Obi swung around and saw Scipio clutching the package he’d given him and Grace clutching Araba. Scipio’s large brown eyes were bright and shining, while a guilty half smile played around his mouth.

  Chapter 7

  Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge;

  your people shall be my people.

  —THE BOOK OF RUTH

  “Why you get off the ferry? You all suppose to be going on to Edisto,” Obi exclaimed angrily.

  “I thought we was suppose to go with you.” Scipio sniffled and bowed his head.

  Obi knelt in front of them. “Grace, did you tell your brother that?”

  “I thought so, sir. When Scipio say he see you leave, then we follow.”

  Obi stood up. “I never seen such determined children,” he said to Rose. Even Araba smiled at him. “Come, you have to get back to the ferry,” he said, taking Scipio’s hand.

  “We want to stay with you, sir; only you can help us. Please, sir, please let us stay with you,” Grace’s voice cracked slightly. For the first time since he’d met her, she sounded as if she would cry. “Please, sir. Please let us stay with you,” she pleaded.

  Scipio began to cry.

  “You have to get back on the ferry,” Obi said firmly, looking away from them. He began walking quickly, pulling Scipio and Grace along.

  “Where they going?” Rose interrupted while Little Ray smiled at Scipio, and then started crying too.

  “They’re going to a work farm.”

  “I thought they’d be with kin.”

  “Please, sir. Please,” Grace begged.

  He gently pushed her forward. “Grace. I’m sorry. You can’t stay with me. I have no home myself.”

  “Wait, Obi. We get someone here to keep them. People taking in children all the time.” She pointed toward the dock. “Anyway, the ferry leaving. Y’all come on,” she smiled at them. “You can stay with me for a spell.”

  “How can you take in three children?”

  “I have plenty space. I’ll make a pallet in my room for the girls to sleep on. The boy can sleep on a pallet in the front room with Simon. Unless he want to sleep in the shed with you.”

  “What shed?”

  “Me and Simon clean the shed behind my cabin for you to stay in until you build your house. See, there be plenty room.”

  They walked past the store, and Miss Mary waved. “You find them children you was looking for, eh, Mr. Booker?”

  He just smiled at her.

  “These not his children, Miss Mary,” Rose informed her. “She in your business already, Obi, and you just get here. If you want something found out, you just tell Miss Mary.”

  They passed the church surrounded by oak trees, and just before the shelled road turned into the footpath leading to Rose’s cabin, he saw the praise house. Everything was familiar to him now—even the azalea bushes near the cabin and the large oak tree that towered over a small shed.

  When they reached the cabin, Rose opened the door. “Come on in, everybody. Y’all sit. Girl, put that baby down. And get rid of that blanket.”

  “She can’t walk, ma’am. She won’t sleep without her blanket.”

  “I didn’t know she couldn’t walk,” Obi said. “You never tell me, Grace.”

  Rose took Araba from Grace. “You never ask why she always carry the child?”

  He was embarrassed. “I just thought it was her way of keeping the baby safe.”

  Rose rubbed Araba’s thin legs. She turned to Grace. “Rubbing will strengthen these weak legs. You know how old she is?”

  “A year, ma’am.”

  “Should be walking. She need fattening up.”

  Rose took the tin cups off the mantel and placed them on the table. “You know how to draw water?” she asked Scipio.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She handed him a pitcher. “The well is near the shed back of the cabin. Get some water for your sisters.”

  Grace sat on the bench and gently rubbed Araba’s legs.

  Rose whispered to Obi as they stood by the door, “We can get them some help. Miss Fortune, the teacher, maybe can find a family who take them in. In the meantime they can stay here.”

  “I’ll write a letter to the bureau
and tell them what happened. Maybe I send them on the next army transport going to Edisto.” He leaned close to Rose’s ear. “I’ll tell you their story later, “ he whispered.

  That evening, after the children were settled in, Rose insisted on taking Obi to the regular Friday-evening meeting of the New Canaan Republican Club. Rose left Simon in charge of all of the children.

  “Everybody waiting to see you,” Rose informed him as they walked down the shelled road. Before they reached the meeting, he told her about the children.

  “My Lord,” she gasped. “Seem cruel to throw them into a work farm. Just throwing them away again.”

  When they neared the church, she said, “This church be everything. We just have a little cabin for the school, so all the children’s recitals are in the church, and it’s the place for our meetings too.”

  The meeting hadn’t begun as yet when they entered the small church. A few people milled around the back of the church; others talked quietly.

  “Everybody, we find another one of us from the old place!” Rose announced loudly as she stepped down the narrow aisle that separated the rows of benches. Obi felt like disappearing as all eyes turned in his direction. He thought that he recognized a few familiar faces.

  He heard someone say, “Obi from the Jennings place. You remember him.”

  Obi didn’t recognize the stylish young man who walked over to him with an extended hand. He wasn’t dressed like a farmer. His suit was made of fine broadcloth, and his shoes were shiny and new. “Obi, good to see you. You don’t remember me? Julius.”

  Obi shook his hand. “Of course, I remember you. Just didn’t recognize you.” Julius looked nothing like the skinny ragamuffin he recalled.

  “Welcome to New Canaan. You been in the army, I see.”

  “Yes. And you?”

  “Oh, yes. Served in the Thirty-third. Made sergeant.” He paused as if he didn’t know what else to say. Then he asked, “Easter know you’re back?”

  Julius’s words of welcome sounded empty, and he wondered why Julius hadn’t even asked what regiment he’d served in. And why is he interested in what Easter knows? “We write each other,” Obi replied.

  “Well, that’s very good.” Julius abruptly walked away from him and greeted two white men who had entered the church. Obi wondered whether Julius was as important as he acted. When the two men were seated in the front row, Julius stood before everyone and brought the meeting to order. Obi leaned over and whispered to Rose, “Julius the boss man, yes?”

  “He in this political thing with them Yankee Republicans.”

  One of the white men stood before the group. Obi immediately recognized his Yankee accent as the words raced out of his mouth. He talked to them about the new constitution that struck down laws restricting the freed men and women to field labor. He then congratulated Julius on becoming a member of the Land Commission.

  “He really think he important now,” Rose chuckled.

  Julius bowed deeply and spoke next. “One of the most important thing this constitution give us is a system of common schools for all children, black and white,” he exclaimed. “And the next important thing is the Land Commission. The commission make it easier for freedmen to buy the land. I know that the Williams family owe money for taxes, and they will sell the rest of the plantation, two thousand acres of land.” He waited for the people to finish their chorus of amens, then continued. “If we who founded New Canaan could buy this land, then we will have a real town—not just a settlement. All of you who is sharecropping have a chance to buy your own land too. If you form a land association and everyone pay monthly dues, then the association will buy the land and divide it equally among the members.” People murmured in agreement.

  When the meeting was over, the people from the Phillips plantation rushed up to Obi, anxious to hear his narrative to add to the growing number of stories about the old plantation, the war, the Yankees, the time of freedom. He met Virginia and George and their sons, Melissa, Brother Paul, Isabel. He remembered them all. Then Rose introduced him to the teacher, Miss Fortune. “Easter is staying with Miss Fortune’s family,” Rose informed him. He took an instant liking to Miss Fortune, since her family was caring for his Easter.

  As they walked home, the air was pungent with the scent of salt water and pine and noisy with the sounds of crickets and croaking frogs. The stars seemed close and bright, and Obi felt as though he could pick one out of the sky and send it to Easter in the purse he had bought her.

  “Obi, people happy to see you,” Rose said. “Even the ones who don’t know you.”

  “I’m happy to see them too.”

  He sat at Rose’s table and wrote two letters that night.

  First, he wrote to Major Delany’s assistant to let him know what had happened to the children. He asked him to find out when the next army transport was coming through, and told him he’d send the children to Edisto Island if he couldn’t find anyone to take them in.

  He also wrote Easter, letting her know that he had arrived safely in New Canaan and that Rose made sure he saw all of the Phillips’s people. He told her about the meeting.

  When I listen to Julius and the others talk about land it make me think that we can have a sweet life here among the oaks and palmettoes. I save enough money to buy land, so I don’t have to join no asssociation. And I been thinking too. I want to build my own carpenter business. The only farming I will do is to grow enough food to feed us. And I never want to work for another man again in my life.

  I cannot wait for you to return, so that I can hold you in my arms once again. I am happy for the first time in my life.

  Your Obi

  Chapter 8

  Your door is shut against my tightened face,

  And I am sharp as steel with discontent.

  —CLAUDE McKAY

  The next day Obi began to organize his life. Samuel took him to one of the frequent plantation auctions, where the owners were selling off everything from farm tools to furniture to pay taxes. Obi purchased a pair of overalls and carpentry tools: an adze, a chisel, and a handsaw. Since they were riding in Samuel’s mule cart, Samuel also offered to show Obi the important places on the island.

  “Now, you know where the church, the school, and Miss Mary’s store is. That’s the hub of the island. The black hub. I’m going to show you the other side of the island.”

  “What’s on the other side?”

  “The white hub,” he explained. “Elenaville. Them wealthy planters use to keep summer mansions there. Since the war many of them living there year-round ’cause they lose their plantation. You get a lot of carpentry work at the ’capital,’ “ he chuckled. “That’s what we call Elenaville. ’Cause the people them think they so capital.” He threw his head back and laughed loudly at his own joke.

  Obi smiled, enjoying the way Samuel found himself so amusing. As they rode along Obi reviewed the plans he’d made so far. That was one thing the army had taught him—the importance of planning and organization. He had insisted that when the cotton began to open in August, he would help Rose in her fields, to make up for bringing the children. She insisted, however, that he share in her profits from the cotton. Obi didn’t want to waste time. In the two weeks before the cotton opened, he would begin to lay the foundation for his own carpentry business.

  He’d use the money saved from his army pay to purchase more land, and the money he made from his carpentry and growing cotton with Rose would help him to buy the materials he needed in order to build his own home.

  “Samuel, there be a newspaper on this island?”

  “Yes. The office is in Elenaville. You want to buy a paper?”

  “No, man. I’m advertising for my carpentry business.”

  Samuel glanced at Obi as though he were impressed. “That’s a smart thing you doing.”

  When the forest began to thin out, Obi saw a cluster of houses in the distance. “That’s it,” Samuel said. “That’s Elenaville.”

  Obi liked
the way the village sat on a bluff overlooking the water; its homes spread out from the center of the small business area. Part of the narrow street had been turned into a marketplace crowded with black farmers selling eggs, shrimp, crab, catfish, peas, melons, figs, and chickens. Samuel waved and called out greetings to the people he knew. They rode past a dress shop, a general store, and a sweet shop. Obi spotted the newspaper office a few feet from an unused lodge where the planters used to socialize.

  Obi jumped out of the mule cart. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. I going back down to the market and speak to some of my friends while you take care of your business.” He started to turn the mule cart around.

  Obi gazed at the homes that stretched to the end of the street and sat on the bluff beyond. “Think I’ll call at some of them homes and see if they need a carpenter. Got my new tools and could start working today perhaps.”

  “Meet me at the market when you done.”

  Obi walked inside the office and approached a man sitting behind a desk. “I want to put an ad in your paper,” Obi shouted over the clatter of the printing press in the next room.

  “All right. What you want to say? You looking for a family member? Tell me slowly and carefully so’s I can understand, and I’ll write it for you.”

  The man dipped his pen in the inkwell and took a piece of paper from a stack sitting on his desk. “That’ll be one dollar to keep your ad in for a week and fifty cents for writing it out for you. You understand?”

  Obi balled his hand into a fist to keep himself from snatching the paper away from him. Evidentally a lot of black people had been putting ads in the paper, looking for missing relatives. And most of them could neither read nor write.

  “I can write it myself.”

  “You know how to write?”

  Obi’s temple began to throb. “I said I will write it out myself.”

  “You got to write clear and correct.”