The Heart Calls Home

by Joyce Hansen

  Rose chuckled. “You definitely one of us now.”

  Miss Fortune turned around and faced the children with both arms upraised. And when every child’s eye rested on her, she held her arms higher, stabbing the air with her hands. Instantly, the children’s voices filled the church with a pure sound. Scipio’s voice could be heard loud and clear over the others, reminding Obi of the way Jason used to sing.

  Hold your light, Brother

  Hold your light,

  Hold your light on Canaan’s shore.

  What make ole Satan for follow me so?

  Satan’s got nothing to do with me.

  Hold your light,

  Hold your light,

  Hold your light on Canaan’s shore.

  They sang other songs, and the audience clapped and sang with them. Rose whispered to Obi, “Look how Grace is smiling. I never see her smile so. And see how the stiff Miss Fortune swaying from side to side. Guess she ain’t altogether Yankee.”

  Obi laughed. “Look at Araba,” he said. She and Little Ray bounced vigorously. “I never see her move this much.” He was amazed too at what Miss Fortune had accomplished with the children in such a short time. With nothing but her and the children’s willing and hopeful spirits. She had a comfortable home in Philadelphia to go back to, he thought. Yet she stay in this mudhole, and look what she did.

  Scipio’s starring moment interrupted Obi’s thoughts. Miss Fortune faced the audience again. “And now a recitation by one of our newest and youngest students. Scipio Booker will recite ’Bury Me in a Free Land,’ by Frances Ellen Harper.” Obi was surprised. He never told Miss Fortune that Scipio’s last name was Booker.

  Scipio stepped before the audience, shoulders straight, eyes bright, and in a loud clear voice began:

  Make me a grave where’er you will,

  In a lowly plain or a lofty hill;

  Scipio raised his arms dramatically.

  Make it among earth’s humblest graves,

  But not in a land where men are slaves.

  I ask no monument proud and high,

  To arrest the gaze of the passers by;

  All that my yearning spirit craves

  Is, Bury me not in a Land of Slaves.

  The audience clapped loudly while Scipio, placing one arm behind his back and the other across his stomach, bowed deeply. And before Rose could catch him, Little Ray scrambled up to the front and bowed with Scipio. The church erupted in laughter. Obi couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard. Rose started to go after Ray, but Obi pulled her back. “He just a baby.”

  She relaxed when Miss Fortune smiled too and gently patted Little Ray on the head, as he continued to bow and the audience laughed and cheered him on too. Suddenly Grace yanked his arm and shouted, “Mr. Obi, Miss Rose, look Araba.” Araba stood up on her thin wobbly legs and, holding onto the seat of the bench, moved one foot before the other and took several steps before falling back down. Grace reached to pick her up, but Rose stopped her. Araba stood up again and took a few more steps. Obi shook his head in disbelief. “Araba’s walking.”

  Rose clasped her hands. “It like a miracle, Obi. Look at that.”

  Everyone in the church remarked on how “that child just upped and walked,” though Araba did more wobbling than walking. She wobbled, fell, laughed, and picked herself up again and again and yet again.

  “She never stay down,” Obi laughed as he watched her trying to keep up with Little Ray and the other children as they left the church.

  Two days after the Christmas program, as he and Rose cleared the last pieces of debris from her fields, Obi spotted Simon running toward them. He only went to school in the morning and helped Rose and Obi in the afternoon.

  “Mr. Obi, Miss Mary sent this. She say it look important.”

  “Lord, that woman is nosy,” Rose mumbled as she looked over Obi’s shoulder. “Is it from Easter?”

  He shook his head as he tore the envelope open. “It’s from the bureau.”

  Obi read the letter and then turned to Rose. “A transport will be coming to the island on December twentieth at seven A.M. I could put the children on it, and they would be taken to Edisto Island with a group of other refugees.”

  If the children left on the twentieth, he’d book passage on a ship going to Philadelphia and might get there by Christmas or a few days after, he thought to himself, but said nothing to Rose. He dared not.

  Rose sat down on a fallen log. “I got use to having them around. So sad, Obi, just a few days before Christmas. That little Araba. She falling more than she walking, but she won’t let nobody pick her up. Not even Grace.”

  “Whenever they leave, it will be sad, Rose. It has to be done sometime. Can you take care of them? Can I?”

  “We been taking care of them.”

  “But that’s not how it was supposed to be, Rose. You have enough here to take care of. And me and Easter don’t even have a roof over our heads.”

  She looked at him sharply. “Whose fault that be?” She stood up and picked up a clump of branches and leaves, throwing them in the pile for burning. “Obi, only God know what’s suppose to be. Keep telling you, man proposes and God disposes. When you going to tell Grace?”

  Rose was giving him a headache. “In time, Rose. No point in upsetting her too soon.”

  “So you going to just tell them five minutes before you throw them on the ship?”

  Obi sucked his teeth loudly. “No.”

  When they returned to the cabin before dark, Araba wobbled over to Obi so that he could pick her up and swoop her in the air and then put her down. Then she wobbled over to Rose and Simon. This was a new ritual. Little Ray followed, even imitating the way Araba walked.

  Grace had started roasting the potatoes on the fireplace. “Miss Rose, these are the last of the potatoes left in the pantry.”

  “I know. Well, least we had a good store, last us a few months.”

  Obi turned to Grace. “Come outside a moment, I have to talk to you.” Simon glanced sadly at Grace and then Obi. Rose handed Grace a shawl. “Here, put this on. It’s chilly and damp.”

  Obi could tell that Grace knew what he was going to say. As soon as they stepped outside, she lowered her face. “Grace, the transport will be here tomorrow, it’s time now. I wish we could keep you, but we can’t. Miss Rose lose all her crop, and I...” He couldn’t continue. He hated the sound of his voice. He tilted her chin. Her eyes were blank.

  “Grace? You understand what I’m telling you?”

  She lowered her head again. “Yes, Mr. Obi, but I thought we was staying with you.”

  Obi’s head throbbed. “I explained this to you before, Grace. The missionaries will take good care of you and Araba and Scipio.”

  After they went back inside Rose whispered, “When you telling Scipio?”

  “Tomorrow is soon enough.”

  Chapter 15

  I want to go to Canaan, To meet the coming day.

  —AFRICAN AMERICAN SPIRITUAL

  After an uneasy, fitful sleep, Obi woke up before everyone else. He drew water from the well for the morning tea and started the fire. After making himself a cup of tea, he sat at the table. Obi lit a candle and finished carving the small wooden sailboat he’d been making for Scipio’s Christmas present. He’d already purchased a dress for each of the girls from Miss Fortune’s supply of donated clothing.

  When Obi finished the sailboat, he polished the wood with beeswax. He turned it around in his hand and admired its perfect small shape. Obi hoped that someday the children would understand—he’d kept them for as long as he could. As he wrapped the boat and the dresses together in brown paper, Scipio woke up.

  “Morning, Mr. Obi.”

  “Morning, Scipio. You rest a spell longer. It’s not day clean yet.”

  “Miss Fortune don’t like us to be late for school.”

  “You not... you not going to... to be late for school.”

  “And you know what, Mr. Obi?” He jumped off the
pallet and bounced over to the table. “I has a secret to tell you.”

  “What?”

  He cupped his hands over his mouth and whispered direcdy in Obi’s ear. “We making Christmas pictures in school. Miss Fortune has a big box of colors and papers from the North. I’m making a picture for Miss Rose. It the best one in the class.”

  “That’s nice... that’s nice.”

  “And you know what else, Mr. Obi? That box you made me with all the money I been saving? I buying candy oranges for Grace and Araba and gumdrops for Simon and Little Ray.” Then he smiled mischievously. “Can’t tell what I giving you, Mr. Obi, then it wouldn’t be no surprise.” Scipio’s bright eyes scanned the package. “What’s that, Mr. Obi?”

  “Scipio, you go on and clean your face, since you ain’t going back to sleep.”

  Scipio bounded over to Simon. “Get up, Simon. Time for school!”

  “You just go and take care of your business. I’ll wake Simon up.”

  As Obi went about the rest of his morning routine, he only wished that all of this were over and done with. By the time dawn had broken through the dark sky, everyone was awake, except Little Ray.

  Rose walked into the main room. Grace followed her, carrying Araba as she’d done in the past instead of letting her walk on her own. And Araba didn’t resist and squirm. As if she too knew that something was different—wasn’t right. Rose picked up Little Ray and carried him, still asleep, into her room. She didn’t want him to wake up and cry after the children when they left.

  While Scipio sparkled and chattered on about the school play, Grace, sitting next to him on the bench, stared into space—something she rarely did when they were all inside the house together.

  Rose’s face was stern but her voice soft and her eyes sad as she gazed at Grace and Scipio. “Stop all that talk and eat your grits before they get cold. And Grace, you know we don’t waste food around here. Eat. Can’t go out there with a empty belly.”

  Rose reached for Araba. “I’ll feed her. You eat.”

  Obi sat down on the bench opposite them. “Grace, you listen to Miss Rose. You have to eat something.”

  Grace picked up her spoon and slowly, without appetite, ate as she was told to do.

  Suddenly Scipio realized that something was not right. “Grace, what’s wrong with you?”

  She didn’t answer, so he turned to Obi. “What’s wrong with Grace?”

  “Nothing. You go on and eat now.”

  His smiling cheery face disappeared. “Why Araba all dressed up? Where she going?” His eyes darted from Rose to Obi. “Where’s Simon? Ain’t he going to school too?”

  “He just went to take care of his business, Scipio. Now, don’t you worry,” Obi said.

  “Why is Little Ray in the bedroom? Ain’t he going to play with Araba today?”

  “Scipio, it’s time now. You have to go with the missionaries,” Obi said.

  “You coming too? And Miss Rose, and Little Ray and Simon?”

  “We’ll visit you, all of us.” Obi glanced at Rose. She couldn’t help him.

  Scipio frowned, until he understood. Then he cried. “Mr. Booker, you sending us away? You not coming too? Please let us stay with you and Miss Rose. Why you cross with us? I’ll be good.”

  Obi put an arm around his shoulders. “Come now. You too big a boy to be crying like a baby. We’ll visit you.”

  Araba looked up from Rose’s lap, saw Scipio’s tears, and began to whimper. Grace’s eyes were blank.

  “I keep them,” Rose said.

  Obi stood up. “How? You can hardly keep yourself.”

  She couldn’t argue that point. Rose kissed Scipio on his forehead. “You hush now, Scipio. You ain’t going to be that far from us, and we will visit you soon.” She wrapped Araba’s blue blanket around her shoulders. “It’s raw out there this morning. You have to keep warm.” She kissed and hugged Araba and kissed the top of Grace’s head. Rose walked back into the bedroom so that she wouldn’t have to see them leave. Simon didn’t come back into the cabin, but watched sadly from the fields as Obi and the three children walked down the path coated with light frost.

  Obi held the children’s package in one hand and Scipio’s hand in the other. Grace carried Araba, and Obi was certain that the child knew. She let Grace carry her without a fuss. Scipio tried hard not to cry.

  Signs of the storm were still strewn alongside the shelled road—the praise house was a pile of boards, and downed trees lay like broken statues, no longer forming a leafy ceiling. When Obi passed Miss Mary’s store, he saw gray swirls of smoke curling out of the chimney. He had a sudden urge to go inside and smell the scent of nutmeg, lemon, and honey and drink a cup of warm tea. Scipio’s eyes were big and wet as he spotted the school cabin behind the church. Obi was glad that it was too early and Miss Fortune wasn’t in front of the schoolhouse greeting her students.

  When they reached the dock, there were a few military people waiting for the transport. It wasn’t long before Obi saw a distant shadow in the mists rising from the water. By the time the ship reached them and began to dock, the children were shivering. Obi made sure that Scipio’s jacket was buttoned. Then he adjusted Grace’s shawl on her shoulders and checked that Araba’s blanket was tight and secure.

  Obi and the children remained at the end of the line of passengers waiting to board. As the boat docked, he wondered how many refugees it carried. Were they as desperate and ragged as the people he’d seen during the war or the people he’d helped when he served at the Freedmen’s Bureau? He gazed at the children. What was he sending them into? Was there anyone on the ship who could comfort them? Would other children take their possessions when they reached the camp? Were there any women there as kind as Rose who would care for them and help them? Would Araba continue to walk? Would Grace ever smile?

  The crewmen let down the gangplank, and people began to board the ship. Obi followed slowly, and as he drew near, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His head throbbed. It seemed to him that the ship was packed. What would happen to Scipio, Araba, and Grace?

  “Hey you, hurry up. We don’t have all day,” one of the crewmen yelled at him.

  He looked into the man’s hard little face, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t send them on that ship. Obi turned around. “Come on, y’all,” he said to them, taking Scipio’s hand.

  Scipio, still fighting tears, asked, “Where we going?”

  “Home.”

  “Obi, I know in the end you do what’s right,” Rose said as she threw a large tree branch in the fire Obi had started. They were burning the few remaining dead leaves and branches left over from the storm.

  “Seem cruel to send them away now just before Christmas. That camp ain’t going nowhere. I can take them anytime.”

  “They belong here, Obi. In New Canaan.” Rose threw another branch in the fire, and it blazed for a moment. “You know Obi, there’s nothing more precious than a child’s love.”

  Obi picked up a small log and threw it in the fire. “Still, nothing is settled.”

  Rose wiped her forehead. The stinging rain had given way to warm sunlight. “The only time things be settled is when you dead in your grave. You good and settled then. You know it would be a cruel thing to throw them children on a boat and send them away like that.”

  He agreed. Everyone and everything was back in place. Scipio was back in school and helping Miss Mary in the afternoon. He bounced like a little ball when he delivered a letter to Obi later that day. Grace’s eyes were no longer blank as she cleaned and watched Araba and Little Ray and helped Rose prepare dinner. Araba and Little Ray played together. In their world nothing had ever changed. As they sat around the table together, Obi felt as though he had completed a long journey.

  He read Easter’s letter that evening after everyone was asleep.

  December 4, 1868

  Dearest Obi,

  This is to wish you and Rose and all of the Children a Blessed Christmas. You are deter
mined to come here, so I can’t stop you, but I wish you would think again. As much as I want to see you, it seems as if it’s such a waste of money if we can’t spend time together. The orphanage is so full and crowded, but the children are happy in spite of all. As Christmas draws near, my thoughts go home, thinking of the past Christmases we spent together. Remember how Jennings would let us go to the Phillips Plantation, and even you danced a reel once, and Jason was just crazy out of his wits with dancing and singing. Obi, please try and think of New Canaan as our home even in hard times. You know, New Canaan is the place where I became free. When I think of the island and our little village it reminds me of the times we spent with the other slaves on the Phillips Plantation. Oh yes, we were slaves on the outside, but we were people too on the inside. As you said in your letter, who knows what is in the heart of a slave. We knew what was in each other’s hearts. We all had to be there to look within one another. You, me, Rose, Rayford and all of the other slaves. We have to be where people truly see us, and know us. I believe so deeply in my heart that there can be no place safer or better for us. So I only want you to try again. Build again.

  Well, I hope you don’t think I’m a mad woman. Just missing you and loving you and hoping you’re not growing too impatient with me.

  Your Easter

  Obi reread the letter several times, so that he’d remember her words. Later on that evening, when everything was quiet except for Simon’s snoring, Obi answered Easter’s letter.

  December 20, 1868

  Dear Easter,

  Rose and everyone send their hellos. Your letters bring me great comfort and joy. I have some news for you. Today, I was supposed to send Grace, Araba and Scipio to the camp, but I could not bring myself to do it. And so they are still here with me and Rose. I have made a decision as concerns them. I will have to keep them until I can find the right situation for them here. Rose wanted to keep them all along. But Rose cannot take in any more children. I brought them here, so they are my responsibility for now. I will have to wait here for your return as you wanted me to do in the first place.