Together is All We Need (13 page)

She stopped, then got up and walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a drawer and took out an envelope. It was the same envelope from the bank, though we didn't know it.

She brought it back over to the table and sat down.

‘‘I don't know what it's going to be like after tomorrow,'' she said. ‘‘I've been thinking about it all week, although I can't think about it at all without making myself so miserable I can't stand it. The only conclusion I've come to is that I can't stay here without the rest of you. Rosewood could never be home again to me without you. I lost one family here, and I don't think I could stand to lose another one.''

She stopped and took in a couple of breaths. Occasionally as she talked she glanced toward Emma and Josepha. But she didn't look at me. I kept my eyes mostly down on the table too. I don't think we could have stood it to look into each other's eyes.

‘‘So if you won't let me go with you,'' she went on after a minute, ‘‘then I'll have to go someplace else. All I know is that I can't stay here. I don't know where I'm going, but I have to go somewhere. I'll rent a room or a house, or I'll get a job, or maybe I'll go up north to Philadelphia and try to find my aunt and see if she'll have me, I don't know. But when the rest of you leave tomorrow, I'm going to leave too.''

She stopped again and pulled the envelope out from her lap and set it on the table. Then she reached inside and started pulling out the money that was inside. I glanced over and saw Emma's eyes getting wide as saucers. It reminded me of Katie when we'd first met. She set the bills into four stacks, then handed one to Emma, one to Josepha, and finally shoved one across the table to me.

‘‘You all helped earn this money,'' she said. ‘‘It's yours just as much as it's mine. Wherever you go, you're going to need it just as much as I will, and I want you to have it.''

‘‘Laws almighty, Miz Katie!'' exclaimed Emma.

Josepha just sat there dumbfounded, looking at the money in her hand like it wasn't real.

I guess I was still the practical one. I took the small stack in front of me and counted it.

‘‘But, Katie,'' I said, ‘‘there's fifty-five dollars here! No colored person in the world's ever had that much money! I can't take this.''

‘‘It's yours, Mayme,'' she said. ‘‘You picked more of that cotton than I did. If anyone deserves it, you do. And you should go get the money of yours that's in the bank too.''

‘‘But where we're going, we won't need money. Other colored folks will take us in.''

‘‘You might need money, Mayme.''

‘‘Then let me take five dollars. That will be enough. If you're going to rent someplace new to live, or take a train up north, you need this money.''

‘‘Nothing you say will make me change my mind, Mayme,'' said Katie determinedly. ‘‘I knew you would try to talk me out of it and that's why I made up my mind ahead of time. None of you have to take the money if you don't want to. But if you don't, it's going to stay right on the table there. Because when I leave here tomorrow, it's going to be with my own fifty-two dollars. If you don't take what I gave you, it will just sit there on the table for my uncle Burchard to find when he comes and moves in tomorrow.''

She got up from the table, holding her own portion of the money. It hadn't even dawned on me yet that she'd given each of us
more
than she'd kept for herself.

‘‘Now I'm going to go upstairs and start packing a suitcase. I have the feeling Uncle Burchard will be here bright and early in the morning.''

Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. I got out of my chair and went around to her, and the next minute we were in each other's arms. Finally the dam burst and we cried and cried, and before we knew it Emma and Josepha were hugging us and crying too, and we were all telling each other how much we loved each other. All three of the stacks of money except Katie's, which had fallen on the floor, were still sitting on the table.

Money was the last thing we were thinking about right then.

Henry and Jeremiah came out that evening to say their good-byes. Ever since all this had been happening, Henry had been sorely grieved about our talk of leaving. But he didn't know what else to suggest either. He and Jeremiah didn't have room to take us in. Henry just rented two small rooms behind the livery from Mr. Guiness, the man he worked for. There wasn't room for us. They were men, and we were three women and a baby, besides. Mr. Guiness would never have stood for it, not to mention the townspeople. Blacks may have been free, but that didn't mean they could just do anything they wanted, and if the whites around had seen anything like that, they'd have had a fit and probably strung us all up. So Henry had no better solution to our dilemma. He didn't think Katie ought to leave, just like I'd told her, especially since she needed to be around when my papa, her uncle Templeton, came back. He agreed it wasn't wise for her to come with us.

But if she was determined not to stay at Rosewood after her uncle Burchard became the new owner, at least, Henry said, he would keep an eye out for when Papa came back so he could tell him what had happened and where we all were. So we all promised to make sure we kept in touch so we'd all know where the others were. It was still plain that Henry and Jeremiah didn't like the idea of us leaving. But what else could we do?

Jeremiah and I went for a long walk. But it wasn't anything like the ones we'd had earlier because we knew we were saying good-bye and might not see each other for a long time. I think Jeremiah wanted to ask me to marry him, and might have been fixing to. But he didn't, and I was glad. There wasn't any way I could leave Emma, not now, not the way things were. And Josepha'd never be able to take care of her alone. I think down inside Jeremiah knew it too, and didn't ask me 'cause he knew I'd have to say no. It wasn't that we didn't love each other. We did, at least I knew I loved him and I was pretty sure he loved me too. But sometimes life gets in the way of love. And sometimes being black gets in the way of how you wish life could be.

So it was a pretty quiet walk. There wasn't much to talk about, any more than there was with Katie. My heart hurt. I never thought I'd be so full of love. But knowing I was going to have to say good-bye to Katie the next day, and that I was saying good-bye to Jeremiah tonight, made me feel so full and so sad at the same time that I thought I would burst.

Of course, we talked about when we'd see each other again. But you never really could know about such things. Life didn't always go the way you hoped it would.

T
OO
M
ANY
G
OOD
-B
YES
,
T
OO
M
ANY
T
EARS
21

W
HEN FRIDAY MORNING ARRIVED THERE WERE
three rolled-up blankets and three pillow slips stuffed full of our things sitting on the kitchen floor.

Emma and Josepha and I had already had several quiet private talks amongst ourselves about our plans and what we would do and which way we would go. Josepha said she knew of some free coloreds about fifty miles north, and we decided to try to find them first. The money Katie had given us kept sitting on the kitchen table for more than twenty-four hours after we'd talked about it. I knew Katie was serious and that if we didn't take it, it would still be sitting there when her uncle came. So finally I took all three stacks and gave Josepha hers, and put Emma's and mine in my bag. I figured Emma's would be safer if I kept it for her.

Sometime after we'd gone to bed the night before, Katie's suitcase appeared on the floor sitting next to our three bags. I don't know when Katie brought it downstairs, but it looked like she was serious about leaving too. I didn't know what her plans were, if she was still determined to come with us or go someplace else.

When I first saw Katie that morning, her eyes were red from crying. She walked past me without looking in my direction and began bustling around in the kitchen, as if by staying busy she could avoid the painful good-bye that was hurrying our way. I just stood there in the kitchen doorway and watched her until she finally turned around. We looked at each other for a long moment, then we crossed the room and embraced. We stood in each other's arms for the longest time.

‘‘I love you, Mayme,'' Katie finally whispered in my ear.

That did it. I started blubbering like a baby and cried and cried.

‘‘Oh, Katie,'' I said. ‘‘I love you so much. I'll never forget you.''

‘‘Whatever happens,'' she said, ‘‘write to me at Mrs. Hammond's or Rosewood. Wherever I go, I'll be sure to keep in touch with her and Uncle Burchard. They'll keep my mail for me.''

‘‘I will, Katie,'' I said. ‘‘As soon as me and Emma and Josepha are settled someplace, I'll let you know where we are. I promise. But . . . but what are you going to do?''

‘‘I don't know,'' said Katie. ‘‘I think today I'll walk to Oak-wood, unless Uncle Burchard will let me keep one of the horses. I've got the fifty dollars. I'll stay in the hotel there for a night and maybe try to find a job or something. You said there was a job there once. I'll learn to work, Mayme. I'll work hard. And if I can get a job, maybe I'll rent a room somewhere and wait until Uncle Templeton comes back. If I can't find anything to do, I'll go to Charlotte and try to find a job there.''

‘‘What about Papa, then?'' I asked. ‘‘How will he find us?''

‘‘After I leave, I'll talk to Henry and Mrs. Hammond,'' said Katie. ‘‘When Uncle Templeton comes back, whenever that is, he'll ask questions and I'll make sure they know where I am. Then once he and I get together again, I'll tell him what happened and we'll come find you. That's why you have to make sure that Henry and Mrs. Hammond know where you are. Then we'll all get together again. Uncle Templeton will know what to do.''

I
N
T
OWN
22

W
E WOULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED THAT AT THE
very time we were talking about Henry and Mrs. Hammond, Henry and Mrs. Hammond were thinking mighty hard about us too. Because at that very hour, as we would soon discover, Henry was in Mrs. Hammond's store, buying a few things he hoped to give to us girls, a sort of good-bye present, or something to help us get along on the road. When he had entered the store, Mrs. Hammond barely acknowledged him, grumbling that she had only opened so early to take care of a few things before heading out to Rosewood with a number of the other townspeople, for the doings there later that morning.

But just as Henry was looking at those shelves of pretty things, Mrs. Hammond's eagle eye watching him with suspicion, someone walked into the general store who drove all other thoughts from his mind.

Mrs. McSimmons, mistress of the large McSimmons plantation, strode through the door of the general store. And it was plain from the determined look on her face that she had something on her mind besides dry goods or food or any of the notions lining the shelves.

Even though the plantation owner's wife wasn't a regular customer in Greens Crossing, seeing as she lived closer to Oakwood, Henry recognized her the moment he saw her. It seemed that Mrs. Hammond did too, because the lady straightened up right smart and smoothed down her apron. Henry did notice, however, that even though Mrs. Hammond's eyes left him, her expression of suspicion remained.

I suppose Mrs. McSimmons was the kind of lady everyone for miles knew of. Although I reckon you could say the same thing about Mrs. Hammond. And it soon became clear why Mrs. McSimmons had come to her store almost at the crack of dawn on this day—she knew what everyone knew about Mrs. Hammond, that if there was any gossip about anyone afoot in Shenandoah County, she would know it and wasn't above letting it be coaxed out of her.

‘‘You are Mrs. Hammond, I take it,'' said Mrs. McSimmons without smiling as she walked toward the counter.

‘‘That's right,'' replied the shopkeeper. ‘‘Good day to you, Mrs. McSimmons.''

‘‘We'll see what kind of day it is, depending on what you tell me.''

‘‘About what?'' rejoined Mrs. Hammond a little curtly, clearly perturbed at her visitor's tone of voice. Mrs. Hammond was not used to people talking down to her. That's how she usually talked to other people.

‘‘They say there's a houseful of urchins around here someplace. I want to know where it is.''

Mrs. Hammond paused, eyeing the lady. ‘‘I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, Mistress McSimmons.''

Henry was surprised at her answer. He had no doubt that Mrs. Hammond knew well enough who Mistress McSimmons was talking about, since the shopkeeper had done more to spread the Rosewood rumors than anyone.

‘‘Come now, Mrs. Hammond. Everyone says that you know everything that goes on in Shenandoah County. Do you mean to tell me you have heard nothing about a place where someone's taking in strays and runaways? Darkies, I mean. If I have heard about it, surely you have.''

‘‘Well, let me think . . .'' And Mrs. Hammond appeared to be searching her brain, likely enjoying the attention. And Henry wondered if by some miracle she would keep the information to herself. He was sure praying she would.

But it seemed Mrs. Hammond's natural tendency to ingratiate herself to the most wealthy of her clientele began to moderate her temporary annoyance at Mrs. McSimmons' manner toward her.

‘‘There's young Kathleen Clairborne,'' Mrs. Hammond offered, ‘‘over at the Rosewood place about six miles from here. She's the one whose family was killed.''

‘‘Is she the one taking in strays?''