Elijah of Buxton (19 page)

She opened the door and her breathing got stuck in her throat for a minute when she saw the bunch on her stoop. She said, “Oh! Oh.”

The primer slipped out from her fingers and landed on the stoop's wood floor. I handed it back to her.

She smiled at everyone and said, “Welcome. Y'all come on in.”

We all pulled off our shoes and walked in.

She had her parlour set up just as nice as our'n. There was a table and a rocking chair and a bench and a big brick fireplace and maplewood floors and rugs.

She said, “I'm sorry there ain't enough chairs, but please make you'selves comforted best way y'all can.”

She turned to her two children and told 'em, “Y'all go on in the garden and pick Mama some flowers. Make sure you bring me some them pretty purple and white ones.”

The oldest girl said, “But, Ma, you said they ain't ready to be picked yet.”

Mrs. Holton said, “I think they's ready now, Penelope.”

Penelope said, “Good afternoon, y'all,” then asked her mother, “Why're all these folks visiting us?”

Mrs. Holton said, “Ain't nothing to worry 'bout, darling. Now do as I say. Stay till I calls you, and don't leave the yard.” She gave both of the girls a hug and a kiss.

Penelope held on to Cicely's hand and took her out through the front door.

“Can I offer y'all something?”

Ma said, “Thank you kindly, Sister Holton, but 'Lijah done pick up a letter for you in Chatham. It from down home.”

Mrs. Holton told me, “Elijah, could you read it for me?” She waved the primer she was studying from. “I ain't too far 'long in my lessons.”

Miss Duncan-the-first put her hand on the rocking chair and said, “Why don't you get off your feet, Sister Holton?”

“I'm fine, Miss Duncan. Really I am, but thank you kindly. Elijah?”

I started opening the letter but afore I could get my finger in it and bust the wax seal open she said, “If you don't mind, Elijah, I wants to open it.”

“I don't mind atall, ma'am.”

She picked the wax off the envelope and put it in the front pocket of her apron. She pulled the letter out. She looked it over then handed it back to me.

I said, “It was writ 'bout a year ago, Mrs. Holton.” I looked the letter over and knowed I was gonna have to sound some of the words out. I read:

 

My Dearest Emeline,

I'm hoping that this letter finds you and the children in good health. We hear many wonderful things about the Negro settlement there and are grateful that God in his infinite mercy and wisdom has seen fit to provide you and yours a refuge.

 

Mrs. Holton stopped me. I was afeared she was upset 'cause I stumbled on some of the words, but that waren't it atall. She looked the envelope over and said, “I believe this here's Miss Poole's handwriting. She do like prettying up what she say. You gunn have to tell me what some them words is, Elijah. What
refuge
mean?”

I knowed that from Sabbath school.

I said, “
Refuge
means it's somewhere that's safe.”

She nodded her head.

I started back up reading:

 

However I'm afraid this missive is not one of glad tidings. I'm afraid I have some tragic news I must tell you.

 

I stopped to see if Mrs. Holton needed any more explaining but she didn't. I was glad 'cause I didn't have notion the first what
mis-sive
meant.

 

After a harsh forced journey to Applewood, John was brought back into servitude. Much to our horror, to set an example and in retaliation for the gold he claims John stole, Mr. Tillman exacted a punishment so severe that due to the rigors of the march home, John's body could not endure and he went to the loving arms of our Savior on the seventh day of the fifth month in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty-nine.

He is resting peacefully in the slave burial grounds and we made certain he had a Christian service and paid fifteen dollars for a marked grave.

I am sorry to have to burden you with such news. You and the children are in our prayers. If you are so disposed to remunerate me for this expense, please forward the money to me at Applewood.

 

Sincerely,
Mrs. Jacob Poole

 

Mrs. Holton stood there. It didn't seem like none of those eight women looked di-rect in her face but I knowed they all were ready to jump in case she had a fainting spell or went fra-gile.

But Mrs. Holton didn't flinch or nothing. She said to me, “Read that part again, please, Elijah, that part 'bout John getting punished.”

I cleared my throat and read, “‘Mr. Tillman ex-act-ed a punishment so severe that due to the rig-ors of the march home, John's body could not endure.'”

She raised her hand. I got ready to tell her that I was middling good at reading words but lots of times I didn't know what they meant, but she shooked her head back and forth and said, “‘His body could not endure.' That sure 'nough is a gentle way of putting it when one man done killed another one with a whip.”

Mrs. Holton smiled at the women and said, “Thank y'all kindly for your care, but I'm-a be all right. I knowed. I knowed already.

“I been left kind of hanging since we got here but now … All I hopes is that he felt we got through. Spite of what Miss Poole say, that'd be the only thing what would make John rest peaceful. I hope he felt the joy and love y'all done give us this pass year.”

She gave a little snuffle and I thought for sure she was fixing to cry, but she just said, “I hope he knowed how beautiful his girls look when they free.”

Mrs. Holton sat down in the rocker and said, “He wouldn't've wanted no heavy mourning and I love him 'nough to honour that, so I'm-a be all right.”

The women started in with touching Mrs. Holton and saying a lot of “sorry” and “here to help” and “call on me.”

Mrs. Holton touched each of their hands and said, “Y'all forgive me, y'all been kind enough to bring all this food and here I am acting like I ain't got no manners atall. Please, let's us eat.”

She stood up and went to the kitchen.

She called her children in and we all started eating.

When it came time to go, me and Ma hung back till everyone else had left. Once they 'd got to talking, Ma and Mrs. Holton found out they were both from the same state down in America and the plantations they were trapped on were a couple of miles one from the 'nother. They could even call the names of some of the same people from back there. But it was all white people 'cause the people who were slaves waren't allowed to go from place to place.

We were on the front stoop and I was pulling my brogans on. Ma and Mrs. Holton hugged, and Ma said, “Sister Emeline, please, if you find you'self needing anything, come see me or send word through Eli or Leroy.”

Mrs. Holton said, “Thank you, Sister Sarah. Small world, ain't it? It sure is comforting to know we's from the same place. I'm-a be all right. I's just relieved to know what happened, that's all. Ain't too much harder nor more wearying to keep up than false hopes, and I'm glad they gone. Only thing is, I caint get them words Miss Poole wrote out my head. ‘His body could not endure.' It don't seem to be right. It don't seem like them should be the last words spoke 'bout John Holton.”

Ma said, “Well, the body don't never endure, do it? But I hopes … naw, I
knows
that something inside all of us be so strong it
caint
be stopped. It fly on forever.”

Mrs. Holton said, “Sister Sarah, your words been a big comfort to me, and you and all the other Buxton sisters been a big help. Thank you kindly. And thank you kindly, Elijah, for reading this letter. Me and your ma is gunn be doing that on our own 'fore too much longer.”

Ma laughed and said, “You got more faith than me, Emeline. This reading and writing seem to be two them things what don't come easy once you's full growned. Ain't nothing to do but struggle on, though.”

Whilst me and Ma were walking home I was 'bout to bust waiting on her to tell me how I did. You caint never be sure till you get the word from someone that's growned, but I was thinking what I just did was a pretty good sign that my days of being fra-gile were over! I hadn't cried nor let my voice get shake-ity nor even sniffled whilst I was reading the letter to Mrs. Holton.

I waren't gonna tell Ma, but I didn't think it was being growned that got me through it. Mostly I think I didn't bawl 'cause once Ma and them women bunched up 'round Mrs. Holton with their watching, waiting eyes and hands, it felt like a whole slew of soldiers was ringing that parlour with swords drawed and waren't no sorrow so powerful it could bust through.

Once them women bunched up like that in Mrs. Holton's parlour, it seemed like they'd built a wall of Jericho 'round us, and a hundred Joshuas and a thousand children couldn't've knocked the wall down if they'd blowed trumpets and shouted till their throats bust.

Once them women bunched up in that parlour 'round me and Mrs. Holton, I couldn't've cried even if I was fragile as Emma Collins.

But I was hoping Ma would peg it on me being growned.

We were near 'bout home afore she wrapped her arm 'round my neck and pulled me in to her and said, “'Lijah Freeman, I knowed you could do it, baby! What you done was real growned, son! Wait till I tell your daddy!”

I felt so proud I was afeared I'd bust, but all that happened was that same stuff in my nose commenced to loosening up and slopping 'round all over again!

And that don't make no sense. That don't make no sense atall.

Mr. Travis, when he's being our Sabbath school teacher, says the Lord rested on Sunday and commanded us to do the same. But, doggone-it-all, that's one lesson that ain't sticking too good with him and all the other growned folks 'cause half of every Sunday ain't spent resting, it's spent in church. And whilst Ma and Pa say church ain't work, some of the time if I had my druthers, I'd druther clean five stables and dig two miles of drainage ditch and clear three acres of woodland than sit through a whole morning and afternoon of church.

There were only two reasons that this Sunday was 'bout halfway tolerable. I ain't trying to show no disrespect, 'cause everyone in Buxton says he's either the best or the second-best white man God created, but the first reason was 'cause Reverend King was still away in England and Mr. Travis was preaching 'stead of him. Whilst I ain't disagreeing that Reverend King's a mighty good man, after all he is the one that started the Settlement, I am saying his sermons go on so long that some of the time you feel like begging, “Take me now, Jesus,” 'bout halfway through 'em.

The second reason this Sunday's church was middling tolerable was 'cause right after services Ma and Pa had arranged with Mr. Segee to borrow the buckboard and one of the plow horses to carry a bunch of us children and Mrs. Holton down to Lake Erie for a picnic.

Mr. Travis gave the final “Amen,” which was 'bout the only one that me and Cooter could put any enthusiasm into, and folks walked out and shooked Mr. Travis's hand at the front door, where he stood to ambush everyone.

I held back, not wanting to go through the door at the same time as Ma and Pa. Seeing us together like that seemed to be one of the main things that got Mr. Travis confused 'bout if he's your regular school teacher or your Sabbath school teacher. Afore you knowed it, he's forgot he's supposed to be resting on Sunday and starts in telling Ma and Pa 'bout how bad you're doing in Latin.

Me, Cooter, Emma Collins, and Philip Wise were the last ones out of the church.

When we got to where Mr. Travis was blocking the door, me and Cooter lied at the same time, “Very good sermon today, sir.”

Mr. Travis raised his eyebrow and said, “Mr. Bixby, Mr. Freeman,
in vestra
Latina
maxime laborate
.”

Uh-oh. I didn't have notion the first what that meant. Seemed like he was thanking us for lying 'bout his sermon.

I said, “You're welcome, sir.”

Cooter said, “You're very welcome. We really mean it.”

Emma Collins coughed out a little laugh and I knowed right away we'd messed up.

We waren't even off the steps good when she said, “He told you two you need to work harder in Latin. He didn't say anything that you should answer with ‘you're welcome.'”

I didn't say a word to her, I gave her my best look of pity. This waren't nothing but more of the sin of envy chawing away at Emma Collins's heart. And the sad thing was, she let it happen right in front of the church.

Pa had the buckboard and Shirl, the biggest plow horse, waiting on the road. Him and Ma and Mrs. Holton were sitting on the bench, and Penelope and Cicely and Sidney Prince were sitting in the bed. Me and Cooter and Emma greeted everyone then climbed in.