Aleta sank down next to Janie on the woodpile. “You all right?” she asked in a gentle tone.
Janie shook her head. She could not speak. That was a familiar feeling, the stark fear in her heart coupled with the inability to speak. She remembered when she’d first come to Rubyhill six years ago, how frightened and silent she had been.
Only five years old and ripped away from her home for the first time in her young life, Janie had been terrified by the time she entered the back drive at Rubyhill. All her life, she’d been safe and sound with Momma, or so she’d thought. But suddenly she had been yanked away by strange white people, thrown into a wagon full of other child slaves, taken away to a place she’d never seen, and thrust into the hands of more people she did not know.
When the black people at Rubyhill asked Janie her name that day, she stared back at them, too frightened to speak. They were very kind to the little girl. They understood all too well the shock of being pulled away from family, never to return. But when they asked her questions, Janie simply could not speak. She even opened her mouth to try. It was as if no sound would come out of her.
That’s when Old Joe picked her up and carried her to Aunty Mil’s cabin. The old blind woman had felt the top of Janie’s head with her soft, dry hand. Then she’d stroked Janie’s braids gently, cooing at her the whole time. Janie remembered it well.
“You just a little bit of a thing,” Aunty Mil had said to her, chuckling softly. “You just a little dickens, ain’t you? And they all say you can’t talk. Well, old Aunty Mil thinks you just not ready. I can’t see you or nothin’ else, baby girl, so some time, you got to talk to me so’s we can know each other. Meantime, though, you stay here in Aunty Mil’s cabin, and you don’t ever got to move again. Hear me?”
Little Janie had nodded. Only then did it dawn on her that the old woman couldn’t see her nod. But Aunty Mil had felt Janie’s head move under her hand, and she’d laughed out loud. “We gonna do just fine, you and me. You’ll talk to Aunty when you’s good and ready.”
It had been months before little Janie had spoken. She had silently performed any chore asked of her. She worked hard for the cook at the Big House, fetching things from the root cellar, washing fruits and vegetables at the pump, climbing into low cupboards or up onto high shelves to get pots and pans the heavyset cook couldn’t reach. And every night back at the cabin, Aunty Mil had stroked Janie’s hair and prayed out loud as the child fell asleep.
One morning as Janie was waking up, Aunty Mil tripped on the broom in the cabin. The old woman fell and landed in the fireplace, and her skirt caught fire. Little Janie quickly beat the fire out with a small skillet, but Aunty Mil’s legs were burned. “Quick, baby, go get someone!” the old woman told her.
Frightened, Janie had run outside in the quarters and not known where to go or what to do. It was still dark out. So she used her voice for the first time at Rubyhill. It was squeaky, but it worked. Little Janie stood in the middle of the center path and called out in her high voice: “Help! Help! Aunty’s hurt!”
The other slaves poured out of their cabins and ran to her. Janie pointed inside the cabin, and Aunty Mil was quickly helped. The women in the quarters brought healing herbs and cooling salves to treat the burns. Before long, Aunty Mil’s burns got better and went away, leaving only some raised scars on her leg.
But what truly made the old woman happy was that Janie had spoken out loud to help her. Janie never stopped talking after that. She even began to sing.
Of course, once Aunty Mil heard Janie sing, Janie had to sing all the time. Her sweet, high melodies filled the cabin, and on warm nights, the entire quarter was given the gift of her songs, traveling on the heavy air.
Aunty Mil often prayed out loud her thanks to God for having been burned because that’s when Janie’s sweet voice was “loosed.” That’s how Aunty Mil put it. And that’s when she started calling the child Janie-bird.
Of course, it also meant the two could talk to each other at last. And talk they did! “You remember, child,” Aunty Mil often said, “the Lord can make a way out of no way. Aunty Mil got hurt, but you and your birdsong sprung up out of it all. The Lord made it good.”
Now Janie sat in silence with Aleta and let the memories stir around inside her heart and mind. What good could come of this? She couldn’t believe Aunty Mil lay dead inside the cabin. It hurt so much.
Finally Aleta spoke. “Don’t get quiet again, little sis. Don’t stop talking and singing. Aunty wouldn’t want that.”
Janie stared at the ground and said nothing.
The two women came out of the cabin. One squatted down before Janie. “Baby, we gonna bury Aunty Mil pretty soon. We got her all nice and ready. You want to come in and sit a spell with her?”
Janie didn’t move. Aleta gently pried one of Janie’s hands away from clutching the other hand and pulled her up. “Come on, little sis. Let’s say good-bye.”
Aleta led Janie into the cabin where Aunty Mil lay stretched out on her pallet. Janie still stared down at the dirt floor. Aleta knelt next to the old woman and pulled Janie down next to her.
Janie felt the fire at her back. She was afraid to look at Aunty Mil.
“Come on, Janie,” Aleta coaxed. “We got to say good-bye to Aunty Mil.”
Janie finally raised her eyes to look at the old woman. Aunty Mil was lying perfectly straight and still, her hands folded on her chest. Janie stared, wondering what was so different. Then she realized that she had never seen Aunty’s body straight or still. The old woman had had so many aches and pains that she could not even lie down. Aunty slept in the rocker. And even in her sleep, she moaned and moved about. Now she clearly was without pain.
Janie crept closer to Aunty Mil. The women had taken the kerchief off her head, and Janie saw Aunty Mil’s long white braids spread out. She looked so young! It even looked like she was slightly smiling. Janie was amazed. Truly the real Aunty Mil had left her body and gone away, just like she said she would.
Aleta leaned closer to Janie. “You all right?”
Janie nodded. She still could not speak. She didn’t know how she was going to get along without Aunty Mil, but she did know in her heart that the old woman was in a better place. She was glad about that. She reached out and touched the soft skin on Aunty Mil’s cheek. Then she sat back and waited.
Soon the women came back in and wound long, white sheets around Aunty Mil. Then two men came in and picked up the ends of the sheets. They carried Aunty Mil’s body outside and placed her on a cart drawn by a mule. The entire community of former slaves gathered behind the wagon. They followed the slow-moving mule and cart to the graveyard, where two men with shovels waited by a freshly dug grave. Aleta began to sing, and the others joined in.
Janie felt numb as she followed close behind the wagon. At the grave, she stood and held on to the white sheets at Aunty Mil’s feet while Old Joe said a few words. She could feel the pewter cross under her dress, resting against her skin. It was a comfort to feel it.
Lost in her own thoughts, Janie didn’t pay much attention to Old Joe until he addressed her directly. “Little Janie, you know Aunty Mil loved to hear you sing. You sing for her, would you now?”
Janie’s heart felt like it would break. But Old Joe was right. And she knew Aunty would not want her to hide in silence ever again. So Janie began to sing, her high notes climbing and soaring over the pine trees. She saw Old Joe wipe his eyes. Then she closed her own eyes as Aunty Mil’s body was lowered into the ground.
The men shoveled dirt into the grave. This was hard for Janie to watch. Again she felt the pewter cross press against her, and again, it was a comfort. She touched the outline of the cross through her dress.
When the grave was filled, a mound of dirt remained on top. Each of Rubyhill’s former slaves found a rock nearby and placed it on the mound. Janie found a speckled rock, and she placed her rock on the pile, too.
When it was all over, the others moved silently back to work. Old Joe
stayed behind and looked at Aunty Mil’s grave for a long time. Then he patted Janie’s head and turned down the path toward the quarters. Aleta stayed with Janie.
Janie finally spoke. “What am I gonna do now?”
“You know what you gonna do, little sis. You goin’ north with us.”
Janie looked at Aleta. “And leave her here in the ground?”
“Oh, Janie,” said Aleta, “Aunty knew she was goin’ on. And she knew we’s goin’ north. Don’t you think maybe she and God worked it out so you don’t have to stay and worry over her no more?”
Janie considered this. In spite of her sadness, she had to smile. “You might be right about that,” she said to Aleta. “She wanted me to go north. And she was mighty happy about goin’ to heaven. Said it was her time.”
The two girls gazed at the mound of dirt awhile longer. Then Janie picked a nearby branch and laid it on the mound of dirt and rocks. “Good-bye, Aunty Mil. You sure been good to me. I will see you in heaven someday.”
The two girls turned and walked hand-in-hand back to the quarters.
“Stay with me tonight, Janie,” said Aleta. “Don’t go back to the cabin by yourself.”
Janie considered this. “I’ll stay with you, Aleta—but first I got to go back to the cabin and get something.”
“Want me to come along?”
“If you like. I thank you.”
The girls trudged silently down the path to Aunty Mil’s cabin. Inside the cabin, Aleta busied herself rolling Janie’s blanket and setting aside pans to take. Janie looked around. She knew she would not be back.
She spied the broken rocker. A wave of emotion swept over the young girl, knowing Aunty Mil truly was gone and would never rock in that chair again.
Janie walked over to the hearth and found the paring knife. Then she sliced a large square of fabric from the rocking chair. She cut it from the back ruffle so that more stuffing wouldn’t come out. Surely someone else would want to use the chair. She folded the square of fabric and stuffed it into her skirt pocket.
“Lookie here,” said Aleta. “You might want this.”
Janie turned to see Aleta standing next to the hearth, holding out Aunty Mil’s pale yellow head scarf. Janie took the scarf from Aleta, held it to her face, and breathed in the smell of Aunty Mil’s hair.
A memory came to Janie, distinct and sweet. Every week, she and Aunty Mil would unbraid and rebraid one another’s hair. Aunty Mil had taught her how to braid when Janie first arrived at Rubyhill. The old woman had placed her own cool, bony fingers over Janie’s tiny ones and taught her first with string. It was awhile before she let the little girl braid real hair.
But Aunty Mil braided Janie’s hair from the beginning, always telling her Bible stories, offering her a look at life that would train the child well. “Jesus walked this earth, child, so that He would know what it’s like bein’ a man,” Aunty Mil instructed the girl. “He came down here to save us and free us. Then He went back to heaven to be with His Father. From up there, Jesus helps you. All you got to do is ask. You remember that.”
Janie did remember it. Now she took the folded kerchief and placed it in her pocket next to the fabric square. Then Aleta and Janie stepped out of the cabin forever.
CHAPTER 6
A Harvest Moon
Janie woke up with a start. Where am I? The full harvest moon shone so brightly that for a moment Janie thought it was dawn. But it was not. It only felt that way because she was sleeping outside in the light of that huge moon filtering through tree branches overhead.
Quickly Janie remembered why she was sleeping outside. She was part of the small party of Rubyhill’s young former slaves who had left the plantation and were now moving north. They had just walked all day, resting only occasionally until they stopped at the edge of this cedar forest. There they’d eaten supper and fallen asleep as darkness came on. It was their first night away from home.
The fire was reduced to only coals. Janie sat up and listened to the sounds of the woods next to them. It was nerve-racking, hearing all those outdoor sounds so close by—owls hooting, small creatures scurrying, leaves rustling, and who knew what else—and nothing to keep any of it at bay. Janie hoped it was true what they said, that snakes don’t crawl at night. She did wonder, though.
Janie wrapped her blanket tightly around herself and looked about. Sleeping around the fire wrapped in their own blankets were four others—Aleta, Lucy, Nathan, and Blue. When it came down to actually leaving, these five were the only ones who decided to go north.
Janie thought about why they were the only ones going. Maybe it was because none of them would have to leave family behind. Blue had been sold to Rubyhill from someplace in Virginia when he was very young. Aleta was born at Rubyhill, but all her kin were gone. Nathan and Lucy only had each other. They’d come to Rubyhill the same time as Janie, and they remembered little about their original family.
Janie’s mind wandered to the events of the last week. So much had happened: Miz Laura’s departure, Old Joe finding the box of Yankee cash, and then the death of dear Aunty Mil. The five young former slaves had waited only until the second day after the burial before venturing out.
Janie had dragged her feet at the thought of leaving so soon after losing Aunty Mil. So much was changing so fast. But the elders insisted that it was important to leave while the full moon offered so much light. Blue also reminded Janie that soon autumn would turn to winter. “We need to get as far north as we can before snow falls,” Blue insisted. “Old Joe’s told me how to go, and we got to go right away.”
So Janie went along with it. They began making plans the day after Aunty Mil’s death. All the other former slaves at Rubyhill prepared food for their young people for the journey—easy things to carry like hard-boiled eggs, pecans, boiled peanuts, and dried apricots. They distributed squares of cornbread and gingerbread to be stuffed into pockets for nibbling along the way. They even slaughtered and fried up one of Rubyhill’s few chickens for their young people to take. Janie’s mouth still drooled at the memory of how tasty that cold fried chicken had been at suppertime.
The five young ones also packed and carried a skillet, a boiling pot, a chopping knife, and some burlap bags of rice and cornmeal. Each one brought his or her own cup, bowl, and spoon. Blue wore a pouch around his waist and under his clothes in which he carried most of the Yankee cash. The rest of the cash was divided up among the other four and tucked deep into their pockets in case they somehow became separated along the way.
Early that morning, Aleta had distributed footwear and jackets taken from the Big House, items to be worn later when it turned cold. Each of the five young people rolled these garments up in his or her own blanket, which was about all any of them owned besides the clothes on their backs. They even slept in those clothes.
Janie brought along three more personal things. She wore the pewter cross under her dress, and she kept both the square of fabric from Aunty Mil’s rocking chair and Aunty’s pale yellow kerchief folded in her pocket.
Janie thought about how they left the plantation all in a line: Blue in the lead, Aleta at the end. All of Rubyhill’s former slaves walked to the outskirts of the plantation with them to see them off. Some of the elders had begun to weep as Old Joe said a prayer over the five young people and sent them on their way.
As the five travelers began walking away, Cookie started to sing one of Janie’s favorite songs, and the other former slaves joined in:
“If I could, I surely would
Stand on the rock where Moses stood.
Pharaoh’s army got drown-ded,
Oh, Mary, don’t you weep….”
For a long while, Janie, Blue, Aleta, Lucy, and Nathan could hear the singing voices of those who had been the only family they had.
Now, by the light of the dying coals and the vibrant moon, Janie reached into her pocket and pulled out the yellow kerchief. She held it to her face and breathed in that familiar smell of Aunty Mil’s hair. It
was a living smell, sharp and sweet.
Janie placed the kerchief back in her pocket. She wrapped her blanket tighter around herself and rocked. She cried without making a sound.
Shannon Oaks Plantation, Georgia
Anna tended the supper fire in her cabin in silence. A full harvest moon had slowly made its way up and over Shannon Oaks.
It had been a long day of fieldwork. After supper, Anna intended to go right to sleep and rest up for another long day. Maybe she’d dream of her little girl again.
Georgeanna. Born Christmas Day and named after her parents. Her pretty little baby with the pretty name.
Back then, when Master’s young wife had heard the new baby’s name, she’d said, “That’s too fine a name for a black baby. You call her Janie.”
So Anna had no choice but to call her baby Janie. At least the woman liked Anna, or she, too, would have been sold south, probably soon after George was sold.
Word back then was that the soil at Shannon Oaks had become tired. That’s how the men put it, anyway. They meant that the soil wasn’t working as well as it used to, so the plantation wasn’t producing the amount of quality cotton and tobacco it once had.
But Master was used to high living. And high living did not come cheap. To continue his standard of living, Master started dealing in and selling livestock, concentrating on horses. Then he concentrated on selling human beings. Even five-year-old Janie.
But not Anna. Master’s wife absolutely would not allow it. And Master hated it when his young wife was unhappy. Nevertheless, he continued selling the other slaves, so that by wartime, not many were left at Shannon Oaks.
Anna’s thoughts were interrupted by the loud bray of a mule outside. She didn’t recognize this mule’s bray, and it sounded like it was close by.
She stood and peeked out her cabin door. There in the bright moonlight stood a very thin man holding the reins of a mule in one hand and a bunch of sunflowers in the other. He stepped toward the cabin door.
American Rebirth Page 15