“Find anything?” Janie called out to Nathan and Lucy.
“Nah, not yet,” Nathan replied. Lucy shook her head.
Old Joe, one of the elders, called out, “I got me something here.” He pulled a dirt-covered box up out of the ground and set it in front of him. He squatted back on his haunches and brushed the dirt off the box. “This here box is made of leather,” he commented. “I seen it before.” He pried the box open, then gave a long, low whistle.
Janie sidled next to Old Joe and looked over his shoulder. The box, which was about the size of four loaves of bread laid out side by side, was full of paper money.
“Rebel cash,” remarked Blue. “Ain’t worth a thing no more.”
“Rebel cash ain’t worth a thing, all right,” said Old Joe with a chuckle. “But this here works just fine.”
Everyone became silent. Finally Aleta spoke. “What are you saying, Old Joe?”
“Only thing rebel money’s good for is kindling, true enough. I’m saying this here’s Yankee money. This here money works fine.”
Blue squatted down next to Old Joe. Blue reached in the box and touched the money, then pulled his hand back as if he’d touched something hot. “How you know that?” he asked.
Old Joe stood, stretched, and shook his head. “You young’uns don’t think I got a mind for nothin’. What you think I did all them years with Master?”
Nobody answered. Old Joe snorted. “I kept the books.”
Still nobody responded until Nathan said, “You mean you can read?”
Janie was stunned by that possibility. It had been illegal to teach slaves to read, and as far as she knew, nobody among them had ever learned.
“No, boy, not them kinda books. I can’t read any better’n you, son,” said Old Joe. “But Master made sure I could figure. He taught me numbers so’s I could keep the books for taking crops in and make sure he didn’t get cheated at the mills.”
Old Joe rubbed the small of his back. “So I know numbers. And I know what money looks like. I know when it turned rebel cash, what that looked like, too. And I heard talk about this here Yankee money. Master told Miz Laura to hide it in case she need it to go north some day. We all buried this two years ago, not knowing what we buried.”
“Well, why didn’t she have us dig it back up?” asked Blue.
Old Joe shrugged. “She never was right in the head after them Yankees—you know that.”
The cook spoke up. “Nobody hurts for money in Miz Laura’s family, even after all this war. You saw them horses, that big white man driver. Miz Laura probably forgot all about this money in the ground.”
“Maybe she just wanted to get out of here as fast as she could,” offered Aleta.
Janie stared at the box of money. She’d never had an occasion to see money except when the chain gang had come through to buy slaves, and even then it was never a box of money. Those memories were too hurtful to think about, anyway.
“How much you figure is there, Old Joe?” Janie asked.
“A whole lot. I can tell you that much,” he said.
“Us black folks use that money ‘round here, white folks gonna think we stole it,” Blue groused.
Old Joe looked at Blue for a long moment. Then he looked around at the others. The lowering sun turned his skin a golden hue, it seemed to Janie, just like the fine oak furniture she used to polish in the Big House dining room.
“You most likely right on that part,” Old Joe said. “We can use some of it now and then, here and there. But the rest, you gonna take, boy. You goin’ north.”
For once Blue was speechless, and so was everyone else. It was little Janie who finally spoke up. “What you mean, Old Joe?”
Old Joe placed his old, dry hand on Janie’s head. “I mean this, child … You young’uns here got to go north. There’s nothing down here for you. You got to get out of here, get work, learn to read and write. Nobody here can teach you that.”
Janie felt sick to her stomach at the thought of anyone going anywhere. She’d lived on Rubyhill for more than half her life. For better or worse, Rubyhill was home, and these people had become her family. “But … why?” she stammered.
Old Joe tugged lightly on one of Janie’s braids. “‘Cause that’s how it’s got to be, child.” He looked out beyond the gardens. “I been places y’all never been. I been north, even. Master trusted me to go with him—everybody knows that. I woulda run, but I couldn’t leave my wife and babies down here on their own, and Master knew it. I meant to fly out of here someday and take them north with me, but when my wife took sick … my babies gone … that war …”
Old Joe turned and looked around the silent group. “Any old ones want to go, that’s fine, but I’m past that now. My woman’s dead, my girls sold off.” He paused. “I’m saying you young’uns got to have a chance. As long as you stay here, maybe you know in your mind you’re free, but not in your heart. Never in your heart. You’ll still think like a Georgia slave. Rubyhill still a plantation owned by white folks.” He snorted and shook his head. “Crazy white folks, at that.”
Janie noticed for the first time that Old Joe was getting filmy blue eyes just like Aunty Mil.
Blue finally recovered from being dumbfounded. “Old Joe, I ain’t never thought about these things.”
“Well, boy, time you did. ‘Cause you the one gonna lead ‘em north.”
Blue’s mouth dropped open again. “But where would we go?”
Old Joe looked off in the distance for a moment. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout Chicago. Way up north and mighty cold, but I hear tell there’s work for everybody there, black or white. Big cold city. Sits on water big as a ocean—Lake Michigan. That lake don’t belong to nobody, so’s you can fish on it plenty and nobody’ll bother you.”
Old Joe went silent. Then he looked back at Blue. “I been there, son, plenty times. I can tell you how to get there.” With that, Old Joe picked up the box of money and walked back to the quarters.
It took a long moment for the others to go back to work. Janie stood thoughtfully, worried about the changes that seemed to be happening no matter how she felt about them.
The cook snapped her out of her reverie. “Come here and help—I just found the silver.”
The group moved over to circle around Cookie. Everyone pulled silver dishes and cups wrapped in newspaper and cloth out of the ground. They worked quickly, piling all the pieces on top of one of the flowerbeds. “We can sell this,” the cook said. “Or trade it. Maybe we can get flour and rice and such.”
Janie started when Nathan tapped her on the shoulder. “I found this, Janie,” he said. “Want it?” He held out a cross on a long silver chain.
Janie took the cross. She placed it in the palm of her hand and looked it over while Nathan moved back to his digging. The heavy cross was made of pewter. There was writing on the back of it, but of course, Janie couldn’t read it. She placed the chain around her neck, and the pewter cross dangled halfway down her chest. She didn’t want the cross to get snagged on anything as she worked, so she tucked it inside her dress. She made her way over to Nathan and beamed at him. “Thanks, Nathan.”
Nathan grinned, and he and Janie both went back to digging. As dusk fell, Janie gathered her haul of clothing and took it back to the cabin.
Aunty Mil was grateful for the slippers, which Janie put on her feet for her. “Older I get, seems the less my blood gets down to my feet,” Aunty Mil said.
As for Janie, the day had been so full of excitement that she had trouble staying awake while she told Aunty Mil about it. Finally the old woman chuckled and told Janie to go to bed. “Let’s talk in the morning, child.”
Janie collapsed on her pallet next to the fire. Just before she fell asleep, she fingered the pewter cross. The thought came to her, If you go north and learn to read, you’ll know what it says on this cross. Then she fell sound asleep.
That night, Janie dreamed she was eating a big jar of succotash. How good it tasted! When she woke up, she
could still taste it. Only then did she remember that she’d buried that very thing two years ago under a floorboard of the detached kitchen.
Later she found it was right where she’d hidden it.
CHAPTER 4
“I Got to Go”
Janie stirred cornmeal mush and canned peaches around in the big black pot over the cabin fire. Aunty Mil rocked steadily in her chair, humming and moaning. Moaning was something Aunty Mil did sometimes when she prayed or thought about the past. It was just a way she had of expressing herself, and Janie had gotten used to it.
“Aunty Mil, you hungry now? I’ll spoon this up if you’re ready.” “Yes, Janie-bird, I’m ready.”
Janie scooped the thick, sweet concoction with a big ladle Cookie had given her from the Big House kitchen. The mush dropped into a chipped bowl with a pleasant-sounding splat. Janie lifted Aunty Mil’s hand so she could feel how warm the bowl was. Then she steered a spoon into the woman’s other hand.
Aunty Mil thanked Janie and placed the bowl securely in her lap. She automatically said the meal’s blessing, just as she did for all meals.
“Lord in heaven, we thank You for this food,” Aunty Mil prayed. “Keep my Janie safe and sound in all her ways. I pray for traveling mercies for her and the others on their journey north. Amen.”
Aunty Mil took a bite and made an appreciative noise.
But Janie sat silently. The prayer had unsettled her. She had not yet spoken to Aunty Mil about that part of yesterday’s events. Janie had gone to sleep quickly last night, and this morning she had run out of the cabin very early. How did Aunty Mil know about all that talk from yesterday? And why did she pray that way? Janie wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
Janie scooped out a portion of syrupy mush and squatted down to eat. But her stomach had twisted into a knot. She put her bowl down and watched Aunty Mil instead.
The old woman had a half smile on her face as she ate her soft food. She’d had to refuse the succotash Janie found earlier because the corn really needed to be chewed. But the old woman was very pleased with this soft meal, and she ate it happily.
“Aunty,” Janie finally blurted out, “how you know people’s fixin’ to leave Rubyhill?”
Without missing a bite, the old woman chuckled and said, “Don’t you know this place got no secrets? Ain’t nothing strange about that, baby. Word just gets around—that’s all.”
Janie sat down on the cabin’s dirt floor. “But I ain’t going nowhere, Aunty. Not without you.”
“Yes, you are, child,” Aunty Mil said gently.
“Why you say that?” Janie was feeling even more unsettled.
“‘Cause it’s your time, baby. It’s time you took flight.”
“But what about you?”
“Oh, child, it’s time I took flight, too, but I’m not going with y’all.”
Janie frowned. “Where you going?”
Aunty Mil stopped eating and aimed her sightless eyes in Janie’s direction. “I’m going to heaven, baby.”
“When?”
“When my Maker comes get me, that’s when.”
Janie sat very still. She felt afraid. “But when’s that, Aunty?”
Aunty Mil didn’t speak at first. All that could be heard was her spoon scraping the bowl. Finally she spoke. “Oh, that was good. Now come take my bowl, child. Let Aunty tell you about it.” Janie scurried over to relieve the old woman of her dish and spoon.
“Now see here.” Aunty Mil found Janie’s head and rubbed on it with her bony fingers. Janie sank to her knees beside the chair and felt instantly comforted.
“Janie-bird, my time here is near about done. I know it. I feel it. I dream about it ‘most every night. I don’t know when my time to leave will be, but it will be soon enough. And then I got to go. Aunty Mil gonna fly right on outta this cabin, right up over this plantation, and right on up to heaven. You understand?”
Janie knew a little something about heaven. Her mother had introduced her to Jesus before Janie was taken to Shannon Oaks, and Janie believed that Jesus lived in her own heart. She hadn’t given a lot of thought to heaven, though. She had heard songs about heaven sung all her life, first by Momma in their cabin, then secretly in the pine groves when she came to Rubyhill. During the frightening days of slavery, it had been illegal and dangerous for slaves to gather for any reason without the watchful eye of white men. Some slaves were even killed for it.
But most slaves believed in God, and many of them met together secretly for church. They gathered in groves of trees that would deaden the sound of their preaching and singing. That’s where Janie mostly heard about heaven. She recalled hearing words much like Aunty Mil’s, and there were plenty of songs about it. But Janie did not always know what those words meant exactly, even when she sang them herself.
The old woman went on. “Aunty Mil’s been walking this creation a long, long time. This body’s near about ready to give out. And when it’s time, I’m leaving this old body behind. It will happen. You know this, Janie-bird. Heaven’s my true home. I want to go home to my Maker and my family gone on before me. I don’t want to leave you here, baby girl, but I got to go.”
Aunty Mil turned to the fire. “And I been thinking on this for a long time, that you got to get north. You shouldn’t stay here in Georgia no-how. Now you got your chance to fly on outta here with the others. I got to go where I’m going, baby girl, and I’ll meet you on the other side. For now, though, you got to get north.”
This was a lot for Janie to take in, and she felt afraid again. Ever since Janie was taken from Momma, Aunty Mil had been her family. “No, Aunty, I won’t leave you.”
Aunty Mil continued stroking Janie’s head as if she were a cat. “Mm-mm-mm,” she said. “That’s all right, child.” Janie could hear a smile in her voice. She leaned her face against Aunty Mil’s apron. “Don’t you worry,” Aunty cooed.
The cabin became quiet with only the sounds of Aunty’s rocking chair, the crackling fire, and the raspy breathing of the old woman.
“Sing me that song, child.”
“Which one, Aunty?”
“The one about going to Canaan-land.”
Janie began to sing the much-loved spiritual. She was known around the quarters for having a high, sweet voice, clear as a bird, according to Aunty Mil. Janie closed her eyes and sang her young heart out. When she was done, she saw Aunty Mil had dozed off. Janie watched the old woman’s thin body rise and fall with the sounds of her breath.
Singing always helped Janie feel better. Now she felt hungry again. Aunty Mil was in the middle of her nap, resting nicely, so Janie took her own bowl of mush outside to eat it.
As she ate, Janie thought over what Aunty Mil had said about going to heaven. She’d heard other old ones talk like that but hadn’t ever paid much attention to their words until now. When was Aunty Mil going away? Why did she have to leave at all?
Janie scraped her bowl with her spoon and tucked the dish inside the cabin door to clean later. She headed up the path toward the Big House. She needed to talk to Aleta.
When she reached the front yard, Janie heard her name called. She spun around to find Aleta hurrying toward her.
Aleta was excited. “Come on up here about dusk. Some of us are meeting by the kitchen to make plans for going north.” Aleta’s eyes looked very bright.
But Janie could not respond. She turned and ran back down the path. When Aleta called after her, Janie just ran faster, hurrying back to the warm security of the cabin and Aunty Mil.
Once inside, Janie saw that the fire needed tending. She rummaged for some small pieces of wood, keeping as quiet as possible for the sake of the sleeping Aunty Mil.
Janie stoked the fire and then grabbed a pail to fetch water at the pump. Only then did she realize there was no sound coming from the rocking chair.
Janie slowly walked to Aunty Mil and reached for the old woman’s hand. It was cold.
“Aunty Mil?”
There was no answer.
Anna swept her cabin’s dirt floor, steering the stray pieces of straw and chunks of mud to the small fireplace. She hummed softly to herself, a tune she’d learned from her own mother. Anna never knew the words to the song, but the melody always sounded hopeful to her.
And Anna lived daily with the hope of tomorrow. It was the best she could do. Hope was all she had left.
But at least the bondage was over, praise the Lord. She would never again be anyone’s slave. And if there were any earthly way, George would find her again, he would.
After all, who would have believed Master would have had to let them all go free here at Shannon Oaks? Never would anyone have believed that could happen. And if that could happen all over the land, George could come back to her. And then they could go find their daughter.
She thought of George, whom she’d not seen now for seven long years. Big, strong George with skin the color of strong coffee with just a touch of milk stirred in. That’s what she always told him. His dark eyes would light up every time she said that.
Anna sighed. How she missed George. And how she missed their singing, brown-eyed girl whom she’d not seen in six years. Anna prayed one prayer daily: “Dear Lord, I thank You for life for one more day. I ask for George and my baby to come back to me. In Jesus’ name I pray this.”
She went back to sweeping and humming. One day closer to seeing her loved ones again. That’s what she had to believe.
CHAPTER 5
The Burial
Janie sat on the small woodpile outside the cabin she shared with Aunty Mil and pulled her knees up to her chin. She wrapped her arms around her thin legs and put her head on her knees.
Inside the cabin, two women prepared the old woman for her burial. They worked quietly. Everyone had loved Aunty Mil.
Aleta trotted down the path from the Big House. “Oh, Janie,” she said, “I just heard.” She grabbed Janie’s hand.
Janie squeezed Aleta’s hand for a minute then pulled her own hand back. Again she wrapped her arms around her legs.
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