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Dying to Decorate

Page 14

by Cyndy Salzmann


  “So how come Locust Hill isn’t listed in the National Register of Historic Places—or something like that—as one of these stations?” asks Kelly.

  “The system was shrouded in mystery,” Jess continues, “even after the war. Many people never revealed their roles in the railroad. It was a difficult time in our history.”

  “For the pro-slavery people, hearing people talk about the railroad after the war was probably like rubbing salt in old wounds,” says Lucy. “Even though you had different beliefs, they were still your neighbors.”

  “Makes sense,” I admit, “but I have another question. From what I’ve read, the Simmons were a religious family, right?”

  Kelly nods. “They must have been, to start a Christian college in the middle of nowhere.”

  “OK, so if they were so religious, how did they justify lying to the authorities? I mean, I know slavery was wrong, but . . .”

  “Lizzie, you and Sarah think a lot alike,” says Jess. “That was the thesis for her paper.”

  “Great, Jess! I’m just a hairsbreadth from menopause and still think like a teenager.”

  “A very perceptive teenager with a Christian worldview,” adds Jess. “Not that I mean to brag . . .”

  “Go ahead, brag,” I say. “Sarah’s a great kid.”

  “We’re waiting,” pipes up Marina. “What did she come up with?”

  “Sarah compared the actions of those involved in the Underground Railroad to three instances in the Bible where God’s people deceived an unjust authority for the greater good.”

  “Very good,” says Kelly, obviously impressed. “Did she get an A?”

  “You decide after I tell you what she came up with.”

  Jess explained that Sarah used the account of two midwives in the book of Exodus who deceived Pharaoh to circumvent an unjust order. Pharaoh felt the captive Jewish nation was becoming too strong, so he ordered the midwives to kill all the baby boys born to Jewish women. The midwives decided not to carry out the order, and their deception allowed the birth of Moses.

  “So the end justifies the means?” asks Marina. “I’m not sure I buy that.”

  “No, that’s not what she concluded,” insists Jess. “Sarah also used the example of Rahab, found in the book of Joshua.”

  “I’ve always liked that name,” I say. “Ray-hab. It has a nice ring to it.”

  Kelly grimaces. “Focus, Liz.”

  “Actually, Kelly, I am very familiar with the story of Miss Rahab. She was a . . . how shall I put this delicately . . . ?”

  “She was a hooker,” Marina pronounces, “who protected the Israeli spies from being ratted out to the authorities. What I’d like to know is, what were the Israelites doing at her house in the first place?”

  “Liz, you and Marina are just like my kids.” Jess laughs. “Always trying to get me to go down a rabbit trail.”

  Marina and I look at each other sheepishly.

  “Does this mean detention?” I ask.

  “Can we please get back to the subject?” There’s more than a hint of exasperation in Kelly’s voice.

  “OK, I’m sorry. I promise to be good.”

  “What’s the bottom line, Jess?” asks Kelly. “What did Sarah conclude?”

  “Actually, I thought it was quite good. She brought the issue to the present day in the case of Judge Roy Moore.”

  “Wasn’t he the chief justice in Alabama who wouldn’t allow a monument with the Ten Commandments to be removed from the courthouse?” I ask.

  “That’s the one,” says Jess.

  “I remember seeing something about that on the news,” Mary Alice comments. “There was a big protest as troopers carried off the monument.”

  “Yes, and Judge Moore ended up being removed from office,” says Jess.

  Marina combs through her wild black hair with her fingers. “So how does this tie in with lying to authorities?”

  “Sarah argued in her paper that all these examples had to do with nonviolent civil disobedience.”

  “I’m afraid I’m lost,” Lucy admits.

  “You have to remember this is from a fifteen-year-old kid,” says Jess, “but I think she made some pretty good points.”

  I smile. “Said like a true mom.”

  Jess smiles back.

  “Granted. But Sarah had the facts to back up her stand. She said the Bible teaches us to honor and obey our government. But when the government places a demand contrary to the Word of God, Christians must respectfully decline to obey. That’s called civil disobedience.”

  “OK, I understand how this applies to the midwives and the abolitionists,” says Kelly, “but I’m still a little foggy on the Alabama situation.”

  “I was too,” Jess explains, “but Sarah did her homework. She quoted a former Reagan cabinet member who compared Moore’s fight to the moral battle to get rid of slavery and segregation. He said the federal court had distorted the meaning of the Constitution in regard to the separation of church and state, and Christians were obligated to take a stand against the court’s ruling.”

  “And that’s just what Judge Moore did,” I conclude.

  “And so did Joseph and Emily,” whispers Lucy, almost to herself.

  “I can see Sarah arguing before the Supreme Court, Jessie,” Mary Alice says.

  “You are such a sweetheart, M.A.” Jess looks as pleased as a mother cat. “You never know.”

  “Now that we all have a grasp on the concept of civil disobedience,” says Kelly, “how about getting back to Anna’s journal?”

  “Your wish is my command.” Jess turns the page to the next entry.

  GREEN TOMATO PIE

  Pastry for a two-crust pie

  3 cups sliced green tomatoes

  1 1/3 cups sugar

  3 tablespoons flour

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  6 tablespoons lemon juice

  4 teaspoons grated lemon rind

  3 tablespoons butter, cut up

  Instructions

  1. Line an 8- or 9-inch pie pan with crust.

  2. Combine tomatoes, sugar, flour, salt, lemon juice, and rind in a bowl. Spoon into pastry shell. Dot with butter.

  3. Cover pie with top crust, seal edges, and make several slits in the top of pie.

  4. Bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees and bake 30 minutes more.

  Note: Pioneer kitchens would often substitute vinegar for lemon juice. Cooks lucky enough to have spices might also add cinnamon, allspice, and cloves.

  October 26, 1861

  Mary appears to grow stronger each day in both body and soul. I must admit, it wasn’t until this morning that I had much hope for her. She had been terribly distraught when her fever broke to discover the conductor had left her baby behind. I heard Mother tell Papa that she feared Mary might recover physically, only to die of a broken heart.

  After church services this morning, Papa told us he intends to set out for Missouri this afternoon to rescue Mary’s daughter.

  ___________

  October 28, 1861

  Papa arrived home just before dawn with Mary’s baby girl wrapped securely inside his overcoat. Mary wept and kept touching the baby’s face, as if she couldn’t believe she was real. It is truly a miracle, and I am so proud of Papa. To celebrate, Mother prepared a special dinner—including Papa’s favorite, Green Tomato Pie.

  For the first time, Mary had enough strength to join Anna and her parents at the table for dinner. This was also a first for another reason. Earlier, as she had rocked and caressed her baby, Mary had shyly confided to Anna that dinner would be the first time she would be sitting down to eat with white people.

  Mary explained that, unlike his son, her former master was generally a kindly man and treated his slaves well. However, he and his wife maintained strict boundaries with their servants. Any slave who presumed too much “familiarity” with a member of the family would face very unpleasant consequences. Mary told Anna that she would never hav
e been allowed to eat with the family as she was invited to do in the Simmons household.

  So it was with much hesitation that Mary sat down at the table that evening.

  After offering the mealtime prayer, Joseph said, “Mary, it seems my wife and daughter have been taking good care of you in my stead. How are you feeling?”

  Apparently too timid to speak, the young woman didn’t look up from her dinner plate.

  “Go ahead, dear,” Emily prompted. “You can answer. My husband is not nearly as gruff as he appears.”

  “Gruff?” Joseph laughed. “You must be mistaken, my dear. I am as gentle as Anna’s tabby kitten. The one she calls Precious.”

  “Papa, have you seen how Precious pounces on the mice in our fields?” teased Anna. “I’m not sure ‘gentle’ is a fitting description.”

  Mary seemed to relax in the midst of the family’s casual bantering.

  “Sir, it’s not that I’m scared of you,” said Mary, timidly entering the conversation. “I’m just not used to white folks talkin’ to me like a proper person.”

  Emily’s eyes clouded. “Oh, my dear child.”

  Joseph put down his fork and folded his hands before speaking. “Mary, you know more than most people that this is not a perfect world. In fact, parts of it are profoundly evil. But, child, you must learn the truth and stand on it. The Good Book tells us that all people—both black and white—are created in God’s very image and are equal in His sight.”

  “That’s very true, dear.” Emily gently took the young woman’s hand.

  “Many years ago,” continued Joseph, “I committed a verse to memory from the Good Book. It says: ‘There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.’”

  Tears began to slip silently down Mary’s face as she listened to Joseph’s words.

  “During times of weakness or indecision, I draw strength from God’s Word,” Joseph continued. “It’s my prayer that you will do the same, for the Bible also says, ‘Hold fast to the truth and the truth will set you free.’”

  I will miss Mary and her baby when they leave. It has been much like what I imagine having a big sister is like. But Papa has arranged for a conductor to stop for her any day now. As much as I would like her to stay, I realize it is not safe for her and the baby—or for us. Mother has assured me that one day—in this world or the next—we will meet again. Until then, we have much work to do.

  Kelly sniffs as Jess stops reading.

  “Pass the brownies,” she moans, “and the tissues. I’m not sure how much of this I’m going to be able to take.”

  “What’s that you always say, Liz?” Mary Alice teases. “‘When life gets sticky—’”

  “Yeah, yeah,” interrupts Marina, “‘dip it in chocolate.’ So keep those brownies coming this way, girls.”

  “I’m so impressed with Joseph’s commitment,” says Jess.

  “To ride into a slave state . . . not knowing a soul.” I stop, humbled by his courage and determination. “He risked everything to rescue the child of a woman he barely knew. That’s true heroism.”

  “I have to admit, the guy had guts,” Marina allows. “I can tell he’s one of your relatives, Luce.”

  “What in the world are you talking about, Marina? I jump at my own shadow these days.”

  “Face it, Luce. You’re the only one with enough guts to stand up to me.” She glares defiantly around the circle—apparently daring us to disagree.

  I knew better than to take the bait. “You’ve got a point there, Rina.”

  “Got that right, Lizzie. But don’t you others get any ideas, or I’ll squash you like bugs.”

  “That’s something to look forward to.” Jess laughs. “But right now, I need a chocolate fix—and a soft pillow. I want to be alert when we finish Anna’s journal.”

  HOTDISH

  1 lb. very lean ground beef

  1 can cream of mushroom soup

  1 (15 oz.) jar of Cheez Whiz

  1 (1/2 lb.) bag of Tater Tots

  Instructions

  1. Press raw hamburger evenly into the bottom of an ungreased 9x13-inch pan.

  2. Spread cream of mushroom soup over hamburger.

  3. Spread Cheez Whiz over the soup. Arrange Tater Tots over the top.

  4. Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees for 1 hour and 15 minutes.

  JANELLE’S BANANA SPLIT CAKE

  1 yellow cake mix

  1 (12 oz.) can sweetened condensed milk

  1 cup crushed pineapple, drained

  5 bananas

  1 (16 oz.) carton whipped topping

  1 small package chopped nuts (toasted)

  Maraschino cherries

  Hot fudge or chocolate syrup

  Instructions

  1. Mix and bake cake mix according to instructions on package using a 13x9-inch pan.

  2. While cake is warm, poke 12-14 holes in the top with the handle of a wooden spoon. Pour sweetened condensed milk over cake. Chill until cool.

  3. When cake is cool, spread pineapple on top of cake.

  4. Slice 5 bananas and arrange in layer over pineapple.

  5. Use whipped topping for next layer.

  6. Sprinkle with nuts, and top with cherries. Refrigerate overnight.

  7. Before serving, drizzle top with hot fudge or chocolate syrup.

  LAYERED SALAD

  1 head lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces

  1 cup red, yellow, or green pepper, diced

  4 hard-boiled eggs, cut in wedges

  1/4 cup green onions, sliced

  2 cups sliced mushrooms

  1 carton cherry or grape tomatoes, halved

  1 (10 oz.) package frozen peas, thawed

  2 cups salad dressing or mayonnaise

  2 cups cheddar cheese, shredded

  8 strips of bacon, cooked and crumbled

  Instructions

  1. In a clear glass bowl, layer the first seven ingredients in the order given; do not toss.

  2. Spread salad dressing or mayonnaise over top. Sprinkle with cheese and bacon.

  3. Cover and refrigerate for several hours or overnight.

  The sun is barely up when Marina tries to pull my feet from under the covers of the soft featherbed at Locust Hill. “Come on, Lizzie. It’s a beautiful day.”

  “Go away.” I put the pillow over my head. “I am not getting up.”

  My exercise-addicted roommate has been trying unsuccessfully to coax me from this delicious bed to join her on a morning run. This time I am determined to hold my ground—or, in this case, my bed.

  “I promise to take it slow,” she continues. “We’ll just stay at an easy jog and enjoy the scenery.”

  Right! I remember the last time I was pressured to get out of bed at the crack of dawn by a fitness fanatic. Amber put even Marina to shame . . .

  The sun had just peeked over the horizon as I stumbled out onto the porch with my sneakers untied. My early-morning coffee had already dribbled down the front of my new workout attire.

  “There you are!” said the perky blond, jogging in place on my sidewalk. “I was beginning to worry you might have overslept.”

  Amber is a native Southern Californian. She and her family had recently relocated to Nebraska due to her husband’s job transfer. She is sweet, energetic—and has upper arms that don’t jiggle.

  I knew there was something very different about Amber when she put my basket of “Welcome to the Neighborhood” blueberry muffins in a cupboard without taking even an appreciatory whiff. Before I left her clutter-free kitchen, she had convinced me to “walk” with her the next morning.

  “I thought we were supposed to meet at 6:15,” I mumbled. “My watch says 6:10. Or at least I think that’s what it says. My eyes aren’t fully focused yet.”

  “I thought you’d know I meant that we would start walking at 6:15,” she chirped. “We have to warm up and stretch first. I was here just before 6:00.”

>   “Sorry. This is all a little new to me. In fact, I don’t think I’ve gotten up this early since I was breast-feeding Hannah. And then I kept my eyes closed.”

  “No problem, Liz! There’s still time for a great workout!”

  “Good,” I muttered, silently thinking the exact opposite.

  “By the way, I found an extra set of wrist and ankle weights for you.” She handed me four bright blue objects resembling mini sandbags. “I’ll help you strap them on. It’ll really intensify your workout.”

  “I’m not in very good shape,” I protested as she began to fasten weights around my ankles with Velcro bindings.

  “Don’t worry, that’s the beauty of these things. You walk at your own pace and still get a killer workout!”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “Hey, no pain, no gain, right?” she said, flashing perfect white teeth.

  “Uhh, I guess.”

  “You’re all set! Let’s go!”

  I knew I was in trouble when she charged up the hill in the classic form of a power-walker—elbows and knees pumping furiously. Less than a quarter mile into our walk, I began to feel the burn. After a half mile, there was an inferno raging in my arms and upper thighs.

  “Amber,” I gasped, bending over, hands on my knees, “could we slow down a little bit? I’m getting a little winded.”

  “If we don’t keep up the pace, our heart rates will go down,” she said, again jogging in place.

  I tried to tell her that was the point. I wanted my heart rate to go down. In fact, my entire body was screaming to SIT down, but I was too winded to utter a word.

  After a minute or two, I mustered enough strength to push on. After all, I was representing our community to a newcomer. I didn’t want her to think she had moved to the land of couch potatoes—even though, at that moment, I would have given anything to collapse on the closest sofa.

  As Amber chattered on about vitamins and the newest phytonutrients, I tried to figure out a graceful way to ditch the weights that were torturing my extremities and crawl back home. I settled on the foolproof excuse available to all mothers—“The kids need me.”

  It took several minutes of surreptitious finagling until I was able to sound the ringer on the cell phone in my pocket.

 

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