by Ginny Dye
She turned to Rose then. “I asked to be able to speak to you today, Mrs. Samuels. I know you’re going back to teach your students, but I also know you’re going to have students from Oberlin down so they can learn from you.” Sojourner’s dark eyes glowed with intensity. “Rose Samuels, it is women like you who are leading the way for every woman to come. We face a mighty fight in the years ahead. I can’t know if I will see the day women have the right to vote. I’m old, but you’re young. You are making sure a whole generation of children know the importance of education.”
Sojourner looked up at the crowd. “Education is important because it gives people knowledge. People who don’t know things can’t change them. It’s really very simple. Women have no chance of getting equal rights if the girls of today don’t make it their own battle. I am old. Others who have led the way for decades are old. Now it is our job to make sure others care, so that the battle continues.”
She turned to Rose. “I can’t know all the things you will do in your life, Rose Samuels, just as I couldn’t know all the things I would do in my life. My word of advice to you today as you graduate, is to keep saying yes.”
Rose fastened her eyes on the woman’s face, drinking in every word she was saying.
“When someone asks you to do something, say yes. When you’re asked to learn something new, say yes. When you’re asked to do something you’re certain you can’t do, say yes.” Her eyes burned into Rose’s. “It’s by saying the word yes, that I have been to places I never dreamed possible, and done things I never could have imagined. There will be many times you want to say no. Many times you’ll be certain you are not up to the task.” She paused and stared even deeper into Rose’s soul. “Those are the very times you have to say yes.”
Rose, mesmerized by the challenge in the old woman’s eyes, just as she had been two years earlier, nodded. “I will,” she promised.
Sojourner continued to stare into her eyes until, evidently, she seemed satisfied the message had been received. Then she turned to the audience. “That goes for everyone in this room. I know Rose Samuels, but I feel I know all of you to some degree. You have either just worked hard to get your diploma, you are still studying, or you worked hard to make it possible for one of the young people here to attain it. Either way, you are saying yes to the future of this country…to the future of what you believe in.”
Rose watched Felicia as Sojourner spoke. She recognized the awestruck expression on her daughter’s face, and completely empathized with the bright shine of determination. Her eyes slid over to Frances next. The little girl was listening as intently as Felicia.
She finally let her eyes move to Carrie, finding exactly what she knew she would find. Her friend’s eyes were fixed on her. Shining tears of pride and love made Carrie’s eyes luminescent. No words were needed to know they were both thinking of all they had been through to reach their graduation days. Thank you, Rose mouthed silently.
Carrie nodded. I love you, she mouthed back.
Sojourner lifted her arm and swept her hand to encompass the audience. “Too many people are afraid of life. You fear failure. You expect the worst. You let your fears guide you into saying no to life and opportunities.” She shook her head. “What a waste,” she chided. “I believe every person in this room knows the things you’re meant to do. Somehow, you feel it deep in your gut. Let me tell you what I have learned in my many long years on Earth. The chance to do something important doesn’t wait for perfect timing, because there is no perfect timing. You just got to start before you think you’re ready to start.”
Rose watched as Sojourner took a deep breath. She realized she was watching one of the greatest teachers alive because Sojourner grasped every available opportunity to make a difference with her words and her voice.
“One more thing,” Sojourner continued. “Every time you say no to an opportunity, you’re not just saying no to that one thing. You’re saying no to all the other opportunities that follow, when you’ve had the courage to say the first yes.”
Sojourner looked to Dean Love. “I’m afraid I’ve taken more time than I should, but I thank you for this opportunity.”
“And I thank you for saying yes to it,” Dean Love replied. “You have given everyone here a great gift.”
“Especially me,” Rose said. She hugged Sojourner warmly before one of the professors came forward to help the old woman from the stage. Rose finished crossing the platform and found her seat among the graduates, still stunned by what had transpired, and quite certain she would never forget even a breath of it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’re sure you don’t want to wait for Moses to get back?” Chooli asked as she tucked Ajei more securely onto her hip.
Franklin nodded. “It’s time to leave, Chooli. It’s never going to be easy to say good-bye, but we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”
“I thought I would be able to say good-bye to Carrie,” Chooli protested. “And Rose. And Abby. And Felicia.” She paused. “And meet little Frances. I’m so glad Carrie sent a letter telling us about adopting her.”
Franklin stared at her for a moment. “Have you changed your mind about leaving?” He hated the excited jump in his stomach when he asked the question. He’d thought he was ready to go, but the last weeks had filled his mind with doubt.
Chooli shook her head, but her eyes were uncertain. “No, Franklin. I haven’t changed my mind.” Then she hesitated, obviously swallowing back words.
“Then what is it?” Franklin pressed, striving to keep his voice patient. He had wanted to leave several days earlier, but things kept coming up to delay their departure.
“I’m afraid,” Chooli finally murmured, refusing to meet his eyes.
Franklin softened, hating the fear he saw etched on her face. “What are you afraid of?” he asked tenderly.
Chooli lifted her eyes. “Everything!” she cried. “I still have nightmares from when we came to the plantation. Riding at night through the countryside. Not even being able to ride on the road because we might be discovered. Being chased by vigilantes. Being hungry, and having nowhere to sleep but the ground…” Her voice wavered. “And now we have Ajei. I’m so scared she’ll be hurt,” she moaned. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“But we’ll be in a wagon, Chooli,” Franklin protested. “I told you that already. It’s waiting for us in Independence.”
“That makes me even more frightened,” Chooli replied, fear making her large brown eyes even larger. “I read in a magazine Felicia sent me, that this past year has been the worst one on the Santa Fe Trail for Indian attacks. I know my people are on their reservation, but the Apaches are fighting back. It would be bad enough if we were in a wagon train that could protect us some.” She shook her head. “If it’s just us alone in a wagon, there’s no telling what will happen, Franklin!”
Franklin wanted to assure her they would be safe, but in truth, he was as worried as she was. He remained silent, wondering what he could say. He was afraid that whatever words he spoke, they wouldn’t carry enough conviction to make her feel confident. He couldn’t manufacture a confidence he didn’t feel.
“You don’t think we should go, do you?” Chooli demanded.
Franklin searched for words before finally opting for the simple truth. “I think it will be dangerous,” he admitted. “But,” he rushed to add when he saw sadness fill her eyes, “we could go to Independence and wait there until we find a wagon train that will take us on. Surely there will be one that will welcome us.”
“And what do we do when we get to Santa Fe?” Chooli demanded. “We still have to cross the territory to get to Dinetah on our own.”
Franklin lifted his hands. “What do you want me to say? I’ve told you from the beginning that it could be risky.”
Chooli nodded. “I know…” She sighed heavily. “I guess now that it’s time to go, it all seems so real. All I’ve thought about since last October was going home to be with my family. I was so e
xcited about I, I suppose I refused to think about how dangerous it will be.” She looked down at Ajei’s curly, black hair, and reached a hand up to stroke it gently. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.”
Once again, Franklin was at a loss for words. He couldn’t disagree with her, because he had been thinking the same thing for months. He was not, however, willing to be the one to change their plans. He would not break his promise to his wife.
“Maybe it’s too soon,” Chooli said.
Franklin caught his breath, looking at her.
“You don’t want to leave,” Chooli murmured. There was no accusation in her voice, just calm acceptance.
Franklin shrugged helplessly. “I’m torn,” he confessed, wondering why they hadn’t had this conversation months ago. “I love your homeland, and would love to live near your family. I also love Cromwell Plantation and growing tobacco.” He chose not to add that he would also miss everyone on the plantation who had come to be his family, as well. “I’m worried about what it will take to get to Dinetah,” he finished. He couldn’t put voice to the possibility of something happening to Chooli or Ajei. He couldn’t bear to think it.
He also wanted to be fair. “Chooli, it’s not going to get any easier to leave if we wait longer. I suppose the railroad will go all the way through to Santa Fe in time, but it’s not going to be for many years. You don’t want Ajei to grow up in the South,” he reminded her.
“No,” Chooli agreed, “but I do want her to grow up.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “We’re safe here on the plantation.”
Franklin battled with his response. He wanted to agree with her, but he didn’t want to lie. “We have been,” he said slowly. “But, there is no guarantee there won’t be more violence. You know there was an attack on the plantation the night we arrived last fall.”
“Yes, but there hasn’t been one since,” Chooli argued.
“No,” Franklin replied, “but Blackwell Plantation was attacked.”
Chooli stared at him in confusion. “If you want to stay, why are you trying to convince me to leave?”
“I’m not,” Franklin answered, wishing once again they had been able to talk so openly long before this. Perhaps Chooli had to face her fears before she could admit returning to her Navajo homeland was not the best course of action. “I’m trying to make sure we’re seeing all sides of our decision.” He took a deep breath. “Ajei will face prejudice here,” he reminded her.
Chooli looked away for a moment, and then gazed back at him. “And she will face prejudice at home, too.”
“But I thought…”
“I told you my grandparents’ position with the tribe would protect her,” Chooli said. “That is true, but they may not still be alive when we get there. Or they may not live much longer.” She gazed down at her daughter. “It will be hard in the beginning for both you and Ajei because you are black. Prejudice can be found anywhere.” She took another breath. “Life will be hard on the reservation, Franklin. My people have gone home, but there was much destruction. It will take a long time for them to rebuild the Nation,” she said.
Franklin stared at her, trying to absorb what she had said. “What are you saying, Chooli?”
“We’re not safe anywhere,” Chooli whispered, “but…”
Franklin waited as a long silence filled their cabin. He looked around at the simple structure they had called home since October. It wasn’t fancy, but it was cozy. It was home.
“We have a home here,” Chooli said. “You have a good job.” Suddenly her lips tightened. “Will Moses allow you to stay, now that he and Rose are coming back? Perhaps they won’t have a place for you.” Panic filled her eyes.
Franklin shook his head. “I’ll have a job,” he said, glad he could be certain of at least one thing.
“How do you know?”
“Moses wrote me again after telling us he was coming home,” he admitted. “I didn’t show it to you because we’d already decided to leave.”
“What did it say?”
“It said if we changed our minds and wanted to stay, he would have a place for me. He wants to expand operations even more. There’s too much for him to oversee by himself.”
“You didn’t tell me!”
Franklin shook his head. “Of course I didn’t. Why would I? It would have just made you feel badly about us leaving. If we’re going back to Dinetah, it shouldn’t matter whether I have a job here or not.”
Chooli dropped her lashes. “You’re right,” she muttered. She looked down at Ajei again, stood, and began to pace restlessly around the cabin. “I don’t know what to do, Franklin. I just don’t know what to do!”
Franklin remained silent. This was a decision his wife needed to make. He never wanted either of them to feel he had been the one who kept them from returning to her homeland and her people. He loved her and wanted her to be happy.
“Tell me what to do,” she wailed.
Frightened, Ajei began to cry.
“Oh, little one,” Chooli crooned. “I’m so sorry I scared you. Mama is so sorry.” She sank down into the rocking chair in front of the cold fireplace and began to rock her daughter. “It’s all right, Ajei. It’s all right, awéé,” she whispered in Navajo. “My baby.” When Ajei stopped crying and was once more settled against her chest, Chooli looked up. “We will stay here,” she said firmly.
Franklin looked at her, watching sorrow and determination mix in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Chooli said. “I will never pretend I am happy about not going home, but neither would I be happy about putting the ones I love most at risk. I love it here on the plantation. We will make this our home now.” Tears filled her eyes, but her smile was peaceful. “Perhaps someday we will return to my homeland, but now is not the time.”
Franklin ached for his wife. He knew she was thinking of her family.
“You are my family now,” Chooli whispered as if she could read his thoughts. “You and Ajei.” She smiled softly. “And…”
Franklin tensed when her voice trailed off. He stepped closer to the rocker and knelt down in front of it so he could gaze into her eyes. “And?”
Chooli held his eyes. “And, whoever is growing inside me right now.”
“You’re pregnant again?” Franklin breathed.
Chooli nodded. “I just realized a couple of days ago. I didn’t think it would change anything, because we made the trip here with me pregnant.” She chuckled. “I didn’t want it to change our plans. Of course, I keep forgetting how miserable I was for most of the trip here.”
“And now you do? You want to change our plans? No doubts?” Franklin asked in an even voice. He wanted to jump up and down with joy at the prospect of staying, but he also wanted to make sure Chooli was certain.
“No doubts,” Chooli replied, the sorrow fading from her eyes as relief to have finally made a decision took its place. Suddenly, she looked worried. “Are you really all right with staying?”
Franklin finally allowed his joy to show. “I’m fine with it,” he promised, as he released a broad grin to spread across his face.
Chooli frowned. “You were going just for me?”
“Not just for you,” Franklin insisted. “I love you, and I want you to be happy, but I also love Dinetah.” He paused. “I believe staying here is best for our family right now, though. When that changes, we’ll know. In the meantime, we’ll make sure our children are safe, and we’ll give them the best life we can.”
He leaned forward to wrap Chooli and Ajei in his arms, his heart content.
*****
“Do you love the plantation?” Frances asked.
Felicia nodded. “Of course I do.”
Frances eyed her more closely. She had discovered in the last several days that Felicia didn’t volunteer much information on her own. She didn’t seem to mind answering questions if you pushed for it, but she didn’t waste words, either.
“You don’t like to talk
, do you?” Frances blurted out.
Felicia’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. You’ll tell me things if I make you, but it gets real tiring at times,” Frances said bluntly. She liked Felicia enormously, but she couldn’t pretend she understood her. Carrie told her it was because Felicia had her mind on so many other things, but she didn’t see why that would keep her from talking. Why not just talk about what she was thinking about?
“I’m sorry,” Felicia said instantly.
Frances peered into her face. She had to admit she looked remorseful. “Why are you like that?”
Felicia looked troubled. “You’re not the first person to tell me that,” she admitted. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk…” Her voice trailed off. “I guess I just don’t think about talking.”
Frances stared at her. “You don’t think about talking?” She was glad she and Felicia were alone in the wagon full of supplies. Their driver seemed focused on the spring-rain rutted road. He was nice enough, but he wasn’t paying any attention to them. Frances had begged Carrie to let her and Felicia ride in the wagon, since the carriage was so crowded. “How can you not think about talking?”
Felicia shrugged. “I don’t know. My mind just starts thinking about other things.”
Frances regarded her thoughtfully. “I’m glad I’m not as smart as you are,” she said after a long silence.
“You’re plenty smart.”
Frances was the one to shrug this time. “Maybe, but you don’t have any way of knowing that yet. Carrie told me you’re one of the smartest people she knows. She told me you would rather read and study than do anything else.” She paused, almost afraid to ask the next question. “Is that true?”
Felicia looked off into the distance, and then turned her eyes back. “What if I would rather learn? Is there something wrong with that?” she asked defensively.