A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton (15 page)
She was so sad and pitiful when she cried and blubbered like that, how could I stay mad at her?
“It’s all right, Emma,” I said. “What’s done is done and it’s over now.”
“Thank you, Miz Mayme. Yer so good ter me too, jes’ like Miz Katie.”
Her words didn’t go down too easily in light of how angry I’d gotten at her. I was angry with myself for getting so upset. With Aleta here now, and five of us to take care of instead of just me and Katie ourselves, I couldn’t let myself be angry and selfish over something so little as a cuff link. Katie was acting like a grown-up, and I had to too. I had some serious growing up to do, that was for sure.
Even though we’d temporarily solved the riddle of the cuff link’s origin, the incident still raised a lot of questions in my mind that I didn’t have answers for. Along with the gold from the cellar and where Aleta had come from, there were sure a lot of mysteries to think about all of a sudden.
I
STILL HADN’T HAD A CHANCE TO TELL KATIE
everything that had happened when I’d been gone. It was such a private and personal thing, I couldn’t just blurt it all out with Aleta around glaring at me, or when we were milking the cows and doing our chores, or when Emma was likely to start yammering away or asking me a lot of questions about if she was free too. It had to be the right time. I wanted to tell her when we didn’t have to worry about getting interrupted by something.
Aleta had been with us a few days, and we were doing our best to get back to our normal routine, even though nothing had been normal since Emma got there. Having other people around made everything so different than it had been before.
One night Katie came into my room and got under the blankets with me.
“Is Aleta asleep?” I asked.
“I think so,” answered Katie.
We both lay there a minute or two just enjoying the silence of being together under the covers, warm and safe and content.
“It’s nice with William sleeping through the night,” said Katie.
“Emma’s starting to get the hang of mothering a little, isn’t she?” I said. “That little boy’s mighty special to her.”
“I walked in on her today and she was babbling away in his face—I couldn’t understand a word she was saying!”
“Black folks have a baby talk all their own,” I said.
“It’s nice, isn’t it, Mayme, having other people to take care of? It makes me feel like I’m doing something important.”
“It’s helps us forget our own problems for a while, that’s for sure,” I said.
We lay quietly for a while.
“What happened when you went back home?” Katie asked after a bit. “You said it was something really exciting.”
I’d been wanting to tell Katie about it ever since getting back. But it took me a little while to settle my thoughts and know what to say. Sometimes the most important things are hardest to talk about, and you wind up spending all your time talking about little things that don’t really matter. But I waited till I was ready because I really wanted to tell her about what I’d found out and everything I’d been thinking and feeling.
“I saw the housekeeper at the big house,” I said finally. “Nobody there had been hurt, only the slaves at the cabins. I wish I’d have known about Emma then so I could ask about her. I still can’t figure why I never saw her. But Josepha—that’s the housekeeper’s name—told me that the war was over and all the slaves had been set free.”
I looked over at Katie. The news didn’t seem to shock her when she heard it like it had me.
“Like Henry’s son?” she asked.
“
All
the slaves, Miss Katie,” I said. “Everywhere. It’s against the law for anyone to own slaves now.”
It still seemed like the idea wasn’t altogether getting through. Maybe it was, but it wasn’t affecting her like it had me. How could it? She hadn’t been a slave all her life, so maybe the news didn’t seem so huge to her.
“But she was still there,” said Katie, “the housekeeper, I mean. Wasn’t she still your master’s slave?”
“No, Miss Katie. She didn’t
have
to stay no more. She wasn’t a slave anymore. She was free to go.”
“Then why was she there?”
“She wanted to stay. She was getting
paid
now to be the master’s housekeeper. And if I’d have stayed, I’d have gotten paid too. She tried to get me to stay and work for Master McSimmons for pay like she was doing. If a black person works for a white now, he’s gotta get paid just like a white person would.”
“So that must mean … that means
you’re
free too, Mayme.”
“Yes, that’s what I said was exciting,” I said. “I’m not a runaway, Miss Katie. I’m
free
!”
Katie took in my words with a puzzled expression that gradually changed to worry. At first I didn’t understand it. I thought she’d be happy and excited too. She was starting to see a little more of what it meant, but in a different way than I was seeing it.
There was a long silence. When she next spoke, her voice was soft and I could tell she was nearly in tears.
“Do you want to leave Rosewood, Mayme?” she said.
Now I realized why she had reacted so strange.
“Oh … no, Miss Katie. That’s not why I was saying it. I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”
“But … you’re free. Don’t you want to go somewhere else?”
“No, Miss Katie,” I said. “Where else would I go?”
“You could go back there.”
“This is my home now, with you. I
want
to be here.”
It was quiet a few seconds.
Then suddenly a new thought struck her and Katie’s face brightened.
“Then we don’t need to pretend you’re my slave anymore,” she said. “You can be just like me.”
“Except that this is your plantation,” I said. “I don’t have anything but …”
I remembered the handkerchief. I jumped out of bed and went and got it where I’d set it on the dresser, and brought it and showed it to her. Then I told her about the eleven cents and all about my ride into Oakwood.
“I bought this,” I said. “It’s the first time I’ve ever bought something in my life.”
“It’s pretty, Mayme,” said Katie.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come right back,” I said.
“It’s all right. I’m glad you could buy it. It makes me happy to know that you’re free. I was just worried at first that you wanted to leave.”
“No, I don’t want to leave, Miss Katie.”
“Maybe I should pay you too. I should have given you one of the gold coins.
“No, Miss Katie!” I laughed. “I don’t work for you. We’re just friends trying to make out the best we can together.”
“Well, if we’re equals now,” Katie went on, “don’t you think it’s best if you called me just plain Katie instead of
Miss
Katie.”
“We’re not equals, Miss Katie,” I said. “The slaves have been set free, that’s all. But you’re still white and I’m black.”
“What’s being white or black got to do with it?” she said.
“I don’t know, Miss Katie. But it’d seem funny just to call you by your name. I still gotta show you respect.”
“Why should you show me any more respect than I show you?”
“ ’Cause we ain’t the same. And ’cause this is your house.”
“No, we’re not the same. But neither of us is any better than the other.”
“It just sounds respectful to say
Miss Katie,
” I said.
“But we should show each other the same respect. You don’t want me calling you
Miss Mayme,
do you?”
I couldn’t help laughing as she said it.
“No,” I said. “That would sound wrong.”
“If you don’t call me just
Katie,
then,” said Katie, “I’m going to call you
Miss Mayme
… or maybe even
Miss Mary Ann
or
Miss Jukes.”
We laughed some more.
Neither of us had any idea that in the next room Aleta hadn’t quite gone all the way to sleep after all and was lying awake listening to us.
I don’t know what she thought about all Katie had just said. Katie couldn’t see it as clearly as I could, but she had almost become like a mama to the poor little girl. Aleta hung on her every word and followed her around and did what she said, almost as if she was her mama.
And I think seeing that Katie and I loved each other was maybe starting to get inside her skin.
A
S KATIE AND I LAY THERE IN MY BED, IT GOT
quiet for a while.
“I miss our reading and story times, Mayme,” said Katie after a bit.
“Me too,” I said.
“I’m glad we can help Aleta, because this is horrible for her,” said Katie. “But we hardly get to talk anymore. And I know we’ve got to help her, until we find out about her daddy. But I don’t like how she treats you.”
Again it was quiet.
“Tell me a story, Mayme,” said Katie after a minute.
“Now?” I said, looking over at her.
“Yes, please. We haven’t done stories for more than a week. Tell me a story about Mr. Rabbit.”
“All right … let me try to remember a good one.”
I thought a minute and then started a story as Katie snuggled down into the pillow and sighed contentedly.
When I finished it a few minutes later, I looked over and Katie was fast asleep.
I got up, turned down the kerosene lantern, and got back into bed next to her, happier than I had even been a few days ago after finding out that I was free.
The next evening after supper when we were starting to think about bedtime, Katie suddenly said, “Aleta, Emma … as soon as you’re both ready for bed, we’re going to have a surprise.”
I saw Aleta’s face light up for an instant, which was just what Katie was hoping for.
“What about me?” I said laughing. “Don’t I get a surprise too?”
“You
are
the surprise!” said Katie. “So, Aleta—go out to the outhouse if you need to and then go upstairs and get your nightclothes on. Then come back and we’ll sit in the parlor.”
I still wasn’t sure what Katie was up to, but she had a smile on her face, and Aleta seemed to be catching a little of her excitement and scurried off to do like she’d said.
Ten minutes later we were all seated together, Aleta cozied up to Katie, who had her arm around her, Emma in another chair with little William at her breast, and me in a wooden rocking chair.
“Aleta and Emma,” said Katie, “how would you like a story before bed?”
“Oh, yes’m, Miz Katie,” said Emma, “dat be right fine. I habn’t herd a story in eber so long.”
“What about you, Aleta—would you like a bedtime story?”
Yes,” said Aleta softly.
“Tell us the story you were telling me last night, Mayme,” she said, turning toward me. “I went to sleep before it was over.”
Now I saw what Katie had been up to!
“All right,” I said. “It’s a story about Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Fox when Mr. Fox was going hunting for something to eat.”
I looked at Aleta.
“Would you like me to tell it in a funny old black man’s voice, Aleta?”
I think she was surprised that I’d spoken to her. At first she didn’t say anything, but then slowly nodded.
“All right, then,” I said, “it goes like this … it seems Mr. Rabbit was out walkin’ one day when he ran into ole Mr. Fox, who was going huntin’. Mr. Fox, he ax Mr. Rabbit fer ter go huntin’ wid ’im, but Mr. Rabbit, he sorter feel lazy, en he tell Mr. Fox dat he got some udder fish to fry in da way er huntin’. Mr. Fox was mighty sorry et havin’ t’ go huntin’ alone, but he say he b’leeve he try his han’ at it enny how, en off he went.
“He wuz gone all day, en he had a monstus streak er luck at huntin’, Mr. Fox did, en he bagged a big sight er game.”
By now Aleta was snuggling down into the sofa beside Katie, and I thought I could see the faintest little smile on her lips as she listened. How much she understood I don’t know.
“Bime-by, on to’rds evenin’,” I was saying, “Mr. Rabbit sorter stretch hisse’f, he did, en think hit’s mos’ time fer Mr. Fox fer ter git ’long home. Den Mr. Rabbit, he went en mounted a stump fer ter see ef he could hear Mr. Fox comin’. He ain’t bin dar long when sho’ nuff, here come ole Mr. Fox thoo de woods, singin’ like a black man at a frolic. Mr. Rabbit, he lipt down off ’n de stump, he did, en lay down in de road en make like he dead.”
