A Picture of Freedom

by Patricia C. McKissack

  Miz Lilly really did faint. All I can think ’bout is that it’s gon’ be awful when Mas’ Henley gets home.

  Day later — Monday, July 25, 1859

  When Mas’ Henley heared ’bout William, he went straight ’way to the barn and shot Dancer, a single bullet in the horse’s head — like that was gon’ make William well again. We could hear Hince cryin’ over that horse most of the night.

  Then Mas’er come lookin’ for Uncle Heb — got it in his head that Uncle Heb was to blame for what happened to William, so he came to kill him — just like the horse. Me and Spicy done learned that in times like these it is best to stay out of the way. We watched everythin’ from the room over the kitchen — holdin’ one another, tremblin’, tryin’ not to cry out.

  Po’ Uncle Heb tried to say what happened, but Mas’ Henley went to beatin’ him with the barrel of the gun — beatin’ him all in the head. I heard the licks — hard licks over Aunt Tee’s screamin’. Uncle Heb fell down, and Mas’ Henley kicked him and pointed the gun at the ol’ man’s head.

  “Don’t kill him, please,” Aunt Tee begged for her husband’s life. For some reason he didn’t pull the trigger. He might as well have though, ’cause Uncle Heb died in Aunt Tee’s arms a hour or so later. His big heart just stopped.

  Later

  Mas’ Henley come to the kitchen to see Aunt Tee when they told him ’bout Uncle Heb dyin’ and all.

  He come sayin’, “I lost my temper a bit. I wasn’t really goin’ to kill the old man. You’ve got to believe that.”

  When Aunt Tee didn’t say nothin’, he raised his voice in an angry way. “My boy is up there, unable to walk ’cause that old man let him ride Dancer. He’s to blame. He should have known better.”

  Blame? Mas’ Henley don’t care nothin’ ’bout the real truth. He just make the truth what he wants it to be. The truth is, Mas’ was the one who brung Dancer to Belmont and gave him to William. Mas’ers can do that. But Mas’ Henley will never make me b’lieve what I know aine so.

  “Now, you listen to me,” he say, pointin’ his finger in Aunt Tee’s face. “I don’t want you holdin’ what happened to Uncle Heb against me, you hear? That old man just died. I didn’t kill him.”

  Aunt Tee looked at her master long and hard — like she was lookin’ at him for the first time. “You aine got to worry, I won’t poison you. I aine that low-down and ornery.”

  Rufus tells us to hate the sin and not the sinner. I hate slavery so bad, it’s mighty hard sometimes not to hate the slave masters — men like Mas’ Henley.

  Sunrise Tuesday

  We held Uncle Heb’s funeral this mornin’ when it was mornin’ but not yet day. ’Fore we had to go to the fields and to the kitchen, we stopped to say farewell to Uncle Heb. He was like a lovin’ grandfather to me.

  Women from the Quarters came last night and helped Aunt Tee get Uncle Heb’s body ready for burial. The men folk went to the cemetery to dig the grave. All the folks from the Quarters came and we sat and sang and prayed. Rufus talked ’bout the peace of death — no more sufferin’ — no more pain. I fanned Uncle Heb’s body, keepin’ the flies away — up and down, up and down. Then I dared to touch him. I’d never touched a dead person ’fore and I knew it would be scary, but it wasn’t. Po’ Uncle Heb. He felt hard and cold. Not like him. The him that used to be Uncle Heb had flew up to heaven.

  At the time when Aunt Tee say she was ready, we wrapped him in a clean white sheet and put him in a cart and carried him to the plantation cemetery where all Miz Lilly’s people are buried — her father and mother and grandfather. Miz Lilly came — had nerve enough to cry. Mas’ Henley didn’t even bother to show up. How could anybody think we were lucky livin’ close to people like them?

  One sweet song —

  Still by the river

  waitin’ for my Savior

  to come for me.

  Goin’ home, goin’ home

  to be with God.

  Rufus spoke kindly over Uncle Heb, sayin’ how good he was and how he had lived. I could feel the hot tears behind my eyes, thinkin’ all the while that Uncle Heb would still be alive if Mas’ Henley hadn’t killed him.

  Aunt Tee just looked off into space — thinkin’ her own thoughts — never once cryin’. She had cried dry. Hince took it real hard. Uncle Heb had been like a grandfather to him, too — all of us, really. Spicy did what she could to comfort us, even though she had her own sorrow to bear.

  Everybody kept sayin’ Uncle Heb was free at last. Why do we have to die to be free? Why can’t we be free and live?

  Wednesday

  For the first time as long as I can remember, Aunt Tee didn’t fix fried chicken and whipped potatoes today. I wasn’t the onlyest person to notice it, either.

  Thursday

  I’ve been tryin’ to piece together all that’s done went on for the last few days. No time to grieve, ’cause our work aine never stopped. Mas’ Henley wants his food served on time and the Missus wants her house cleaned, her bed made, her water brought up for baths, and on and on and on — no end to the work she thinks up for us to do.

  Aunt Tee misses Uncle Heb so much, she just shakes with hurt. Then she sings a lot —

  Help me, help me, help me, Jesus.

  Help me, help me, help me, Lord.

  Father, you know that I’m not able

  To climb this mountain by myself.

  Help me, help me, help me, Jesus.

  Help me, help me, help me, Lord.

  Nobody should have to live as a slave. If a slave can be an abolitionist, then I want to be one, ’cause I hate slavery and I want it to end.

  Friday

  Whenever I write the word F-L-O-W-E-R I will think of that kindly old man who grew beautiful roses and told the best stories ever.

  After the dinner meal, Spicy and I walked through Uncle Heb’s flower beds all the way down to the river. The sunflowers were turned toward the evenin’ sun. I remembered Uncle Heb called me his little Sunflower Girl. He said my face always looked like it was facin’ the sun — full of brightness. I squeezed Little Bit, my birthday doll, which I’ve come to carryin’ ’round in my apron pocket. I like the feel of the smooth wood on my hand. That would please Uncle Heb. My thoughts made me smile. Spicy found a four-leafed clover. It’s s’posed to bring good luck. We sure could use some ’round this place.

  Saturday

  Spicy and me took Miz Lilly’s bath water up to her room. She sent Spicy out, but she asked me to stay and fan her for a while. I obeyed.

  “Clotee, things are goin’ to change ’round here. But, I’m takin’ care of you. Don’t you worry. Just promise me you won’t say a word ’bout your talk with me ’bout William. I never dreamed that he would do somethin’ so stupid. STUPID!”

  I think Miz Lilly is worried that if Mas’ Henley finds out I had warned her ’bout William’s plan to ride Dancer, and she’d done nothin’ to stop him, he would be really, really mad with her. Now she’s tryin’ to still my mouth with favors. What is gettin’ ready to change ’round here? And how is Miz Lilly gon’ help me? None of this makes me feel very good in the stomeck.

  Two weeks later

  I saw the calendar in Mas’ Henley’s office. We in August already. August 10, 1859. So much has happened since last I wrote in my diary. I knew somethin’ was comin’, but didn’t know what. Mas’ Henley done changed everythin’ — everythin’. Nothin’s the same.

  First, he moved Aunt Tee out of the kitchen. Say he cain’t trust her to cook for him no more, ’cause of what happened to Uncle Heb. He put her down in the Quarters to look after the babies. Then to make it worse, he done brung Eva Mae up to the kitchen to be his new cook.

  There’s more. Missy is takin’ Spicy’s place, ’cause Spicy’s been sent to the fields. I get to stay in the kitchen, doin’ what I been doin’. I guess that’s what Miz Lilly meant when she say she was gon’ take care of me. I’d just as soon go to the Quarters with Aunt Tee than to stay near Miz Lilly.

  Spicy
aine sorry to be goin’ to the fields. She say she’ll miss talkin’ to me all hours of the night. I will miss spendin’ hours talkin’ to her under the stars. I will miss her stumblin’ and fallin’, then laughin’ ’bout it. Things will not be the same up here in the Big House without her.

  Aunt Tee is who I worry ’bout. This is the thanks she gets after all those years of service. Mas’ers don’t care how long and hard we work for them. They own us, so they can do whatever they want to us. That’s the worse part of bein’ a slave. Never havin’ a say in what happens to yourself.

  Third Monday in August

  Everybody knows that Eva Mae aine half the cook Aunt Tee is. But she likes to think that she is.

  It hurt me when Miz Lilly wouldn’t let Aunt Tee take the old iron bed she and Uncle Heb had slept in for years. The bed had been a gift from Miz Lilly’s grandfather to Uncle Heb for his years of service. Now Miz Lilly done gave it to Eva Mae and Missy to sleep in. It’s not right that Aunt Tee should have to sleep on a pallet at her age. When we abolitionists end slavery, everybody will have a bed to sleep in. Wonder will I ever get to meet a real abolitionist?

  Next day

  A horse and buggy turned into the front gate, gallopin’ at full speed. Whenever I write the word S-T-R-A-N-G-E, I will remember seein’ Mr. Ely Harms bouncin’ ’round in that buggy, comin’ up the drive. The tutor is here and I can’t wait to find out ’bout him.

  Monday again

  The tutor has been here a week. He’s a little freckled-faced man with a shock of red hair that sticks out of the side of his hat. He looks like he’s been pieced together from parts took from other folks. His teeth got a big gap in the middle, and his legs and arms seem a bit too long and too thin for the rest of hisself. I can’t guess his years, but he’s got young eyes that look at you over cloudy glasses that sits on the tip of his nose. I’ll guess and give him ’bout twenty-five years — give or take one or two.

  Miz Lilly fluttered on and on ’bout how sorry she was that nobody — nobody — had told Mr. Harms not to come ’cause of William’s bad fall. Mr. Harms used a lot of fast words — real fancy-like. And by the end of supper, he had Mas’ Henley and Miz Lilly set on him stayin’ on here at Belmont.

  I was glad, ’cause if William’s studies stop, then so would mine. Trouble is, what sort of tutor was Mr. Harms gon’ be?

  After the dinner meal that same day

  Things in the kitchen be a big mess! Eva Mae got her own way of doin’ her own recipes. When I try to show her somethin’ she tells me to shut up. “I’m the mistress of the kitchen now.” So, I decided to just let her alone — do what I’m s’posed to do, and keep my mouth shut — just like she say.

  Week later

  Dr. Lamb came by — say William was well enough to start studyin’ — an hour or so a day, and added it would be good for the boy. The first lesson time with Mr. Harms was today in William’s bedroom. I was standin’ in my place ready to fan.

  “Why are you here?” Mr. Harms asked, lookin’ at me over the top of his glasses.

  William s’plained that I was a fanner. Mr. Harms say they didn’t need a fanner. My heart sunk down to my toes. My learnin’ would have ended right then, too, if William hadn’t gone to whinin’ ’bout how it was too hot. He let me stay. I never thought I’d be glad to hear William’s whinin’.

  Few days later

  I went down to Aunt Tee’s cabin in the Quarters after the last meal. That gave me a chance to visit with her and Spicy. She’s holdin’ her own, but it’s got to be hard on Aunt Tee, losin’ first Uncle Heb and then her job.

  They live in a real small cabin now with a dirt floor — no windows, only a door that don’t shut all the way. Yet, everybody in the Quarters is seein’ after Aunt Tee. All them years Aunt Tee took care of them and they children, now they payin’ her back with love and kindness. Aine none of them got much, but what they got, they’s willin’ to share.

  I slipped out a piece or two of day-old bread and a few leftovers for her to fill out their meal. I told them how Missy and Eva Mae had changed. They are thick with Miz Lilly, grinnin’ and smilin’, gettin’ in with her. Before I left, I told Aunt Tee ’bout my warnin’ Miz Lilly ’bout William and her not listenin’. “She’s scared I’ll tell Mas’ Henley.” Aunt Tee agreed. She took me to her heart. “Be careful, chile. Miz Lilly aine gon’ stand for you to have nothin’ over her head. She’ll keep on ’til she find somethin’ on you to use — to get rid of you — to keep you down. She’ll use them two in the kitchen to help her. To win favors, Eva Mae and Missy will tell everythin’ they know and then make up some. Be particular, and watch as well as pray.”

  Now I’ve got to be very, very careful, ’bout my readin’ and writin’ ’cause now Miz Lilly is lookin’ for somethin’. Now I know how Daniel must have felt in the lion’s den.

  Thursday night

  Woke up after dreamin’ ’bout Mama — all in a sweat. It was unlike any dream I’ve ever had ’bout her. She was standin’ beside Mr. Harms. He was smilin’ at me, all the while Mama was sayin’, “It’s gon’ be jus’ fine, baby girl. It’s gon’ be jus’ fine.”

  Rufus say, God talks to us in dreams. If that’s so, then I wonder what God is tryin’ to tell me?

  Last Monday in August

  Calendar say it’s August 29, 1859.

  Mr. Harms brought a book to study time. William wouldn’t read it. Mr. Harms never said a word. He opened the book and he started to read. “Long ago, in a far away place called Greze there lived a great hero named Herquelez.”

  I knew Mas’er John Hamby’s slave named Herquelez who lived on a nearby plantation. He was powerful strong, too. But this was not a story ’bout him.

  Mr. Harms told us how the long-ago Herquelez killed a big serpent. Then the teacher-man stopped, closed the book, and walked away without sayin’ another word.

  “There’s more, right?” William called out.

  “Tomorrow,” said Mr. Harms.

  I can’t wait to find out more, too.

  First day of September

  There was a big race up in Winchester last week, and Hince won. Soon as he got back, he came to the kitchen to see me and to tell me all ’bout his win. First thing, Missy come sidin’ up to him — like he came there to see her. He asked where Spicy was, right in front of her. I gladly told him.

  Monday

  Mr. Harms starts each day by sayin’ the day, month, and year. Today is Monday, September 5, 1859. So, now I can keep better track of time.

  Tuesday, September 6, 1859

  William has taken to Mr. Harms like a bird to berries. I declare, the boy is reading now and liking it. I’m learning a lot, too. I’m adding “ing” to my words now, ’cause Mr. Harms made William stop saying, “talkin’,” and “walkin’,” and “singin’.” It is talking, walking, and singing. I remember to write my ings, but I still forget to say my ings.

  Wednesday, September 7, 1859

  Mr. Harms has taken charge of William’s days. Two men from down in the Quarters comes up every morning and helps William get bathed and dressed. One brings William down for breakfast in his rolling chair. Afterwards, we have our study time — in the cool of the morning — just hot enough to need a fanner, which is still me. Then it’s time for lunch. William eats with Mr. Harms most of the time. The rest of the day William listens to Mr. Harms read to him, or they play card games, or a game called chess. William spends the evenin’ with his mother and father — but most time they spat ’bout one thing or another, so he goes off to bed.

  Thursday, September 8, 1859

  I slipped out late last night. Came out to write in my diary. I heard a twig snap. Someone was coming. I called to see who it was. Missy answered, asking, “What you doing out here?”

  I was sitting on my diary. I told her it was too hot to sleep, so I’d come out to look at the stars.

  “Why do you always come back here behind the kitchen?”

  She was digging for a bone. “I like it back her
e. I can see the river and the stars.”

  My hiding place behind the kitchen is no longer safe. I have to find a new place, safer, and real soon.

  Friday, September 9, 1859

  Since Uncle Heb’s been dead, the garden’s been looking real pitiful. I pulled a few weeds from ’round the roses. But it just aine the same. I miss him and sometimes turn ’round to say something to him, but he’s not there. He never will be there, just like Mama.

  Oh, yes, I learned from Mr. Harms that it’s around and not ’round. It’s something and not somethin’. I’ve got more out of Mr. Harms’ lesson than I ever did from Miz Lilly.

  But there’s something real different about Mr. Harms, and I cain’t put it to words yet. He never even looks at me. Treats me like I’m not there.

  Saturday, September 10, 1859

  I was digging through some of the trash in Mas’ Henley’s study, looking for things about abolitionists, and the Underground Railroad. Nothing. I cain’t find a thing to help me understand my list of words better. So, when I just wrote F-R-E-E-D-O-M, it still don’t show me no picture. But I’m keeping my eyes open.

  Sunday, September 11, 1859