Elijah of Buxton (32 page)

I watched Mrs. Chloe's eyes hard, the same way I watch Mr. Travis's. If you're reciting something to him and you're doing good, you can tell by his eyes, you know you just gotta keep going on. Mrs. Chloe's eyes were doing the same thing.

I said, “Ma's always saying she don't care if she birth it or not, all she's longing for is another little girl to look after and raise. Why, ma'am, the way she's dragging 'round and carrying on is 'bout to drive me and Pa mad.”

Mrs. Chloe said, “I hopes you and your pa is kind with your ma, boy. Ain't nothing in the world worse than birthing a little one then losing it. Nothing. I done lost three myself, two what was sold away and one what die asleep. This gal here my last.”

I was through. I was so 'shamed of myself for lying that I couldn't talk no more of this growned-folks language.

I was 'bout
this
close to slipping into another one n'em fra-gile spells when Mrs. Chloe studied me and said, “So what you think we should do, son?”

“Ma'am?”

“What can me and you do that'll give your poor ma some comforting?”

I knowed what she was really asking, but I didn't know how to answer her.

All I could say was, “I was wondering, ma'am, if maybe you'd let me borrow your baby and carry her to Buxton so I could show Ma how much she favours my sister?”

Mrs. Chloe's eyes looked just like Mr. Travis's did if you got all the way through conjugating your Latin verbs without no mistakes.

I said, “Confused as Ma is, maybe she'll think this is my sister and she's getting one more look.”

Mrs. Chloe drawed in a long hard breath. For the second time she sounded like she'd been underwater and had come back up just afore her lungs were 'bout to bust.

I raised my right hand and said, “I swear on my ma's head I'll look after her real good, ma'am. You saw how good I held her. I swear she'll be safe, and once I swear, I ain't got no choice but to keep my word. I swored I was gonna come back, didn't I? I swear she'll be safe if you let me borrow her.”

I thought I'd messed up on this growned-up talking, I thought I'd said the wrong thing 'cause Mrs. Chloe made a sound like she'd just got gut-punched. But she whispered, “Chile, chile, chile. That's just the thing that we can do … that's just it.”

She kissed the baby's eyes and told her, “You see, sweetheart? I promised. I promised you you waren't going back to Kentucky. I promised you I waren't gunn allow you to go back, only I never thought it'd be like this! You know I never would've done nothing to hurt you 'less it would spare you a whole life of hurt, don't you? Never, baby.

“Something told me to wait, and I ain't never had no fear nor softness in me, so it was something else. And lookit here. Lookit what my waiting done brung. Lookit this here boy. He
did
come back.
He come back!
And I ain't never been so proud of no young man in all my days.”

She looked up at me.

She said, “You's all I got left.”

I couldn't tell if she meant me or her baby.

She kissed her daughter's eyes again and said, “'Stead of this being your last night it turned to your first.”

She told me, “Don't you cry, boy. Don't you dare. I ain't never loved nothing in my life more'n I loves you right at this minute. Ain't nothing for you to be crying 'bout. Only reason any of us need be crying is if, come tomorrow, you waren't nothing but a dream, nothing but my mind conjuring something to stop me from doing what I was gunn have to do. But you is real, ain't you?”

I wanted to say, “Yes, ma'am,” but all I could do was shake my head up and down and keep sucking the looseness back up into my nose.

She said, “I knowed it. Don't seem like a haint or a dream would be fainting and crying much as you do. 'Sides, I done me lots of dreaming and I ain't never yet had one near beautiful as you is. Never.”

She said, “'Fore you go you take her on over to her pa and let him hold on to her one last time.”

She reached me the baby. Her hands were back to shaking.

I carried the child over to the big African and reached her out to him. His hands could only come up so high, but it was high enough that he could cradle her bottom and put her face on his.

She grabbed at his hair and he mashed his rough, cracked lips into her cheek. He kept his face there, closed his eyes, and took four or five deep breaths like he was trying to get the smell of her deep into him. He held her as far away as the chains would go then said something to her in African.

His voice was deep like thunder. He reached her back to me and said, “Boy. Go! Go, now!
Uh-san-tay. Uh-san-tay sah-nah.
Thank you much kindly.”

I was wrong afore when I said it seemed couldn't nothing make this man cry.

I took the girl from him and turned to the woman to see if she wanted to hold her baby again. She was back to leaning 'gainst the wall like a bundle and her hands were covering her eyes. But she was smiling.

There waren't nothing more to be said.

I put the girl in my right arm and got a chunking stone ready in my left hand for the dog outside. I peeked back out of the stable door and saw the dog was still stretched out on the end of the chain, the mud was drying up 'round his tongue, and he waren't moving a lick. It looked like his nightmare was over.

Afore I stepped through the door, Mrs. Chloe said, “Boy. What you called?”

I said, “Elijah, ma'am.”

Then, so if she did bust out and got to Canada, she wouldn't make the mistake of asking for the other Elijah, the white one up in Chatham, I told her, “I'm Elijah, Elijah of Buxton, ma'am.”

She said, “Well, son, you done proved what you said afore. You proved that if you wants something horrible bad enough, sometimes dreams has a way of finding you. You done lift something heavier than any wagon of stones off my heart, Elijah of Buxton. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, ma'am.”

I looked back into the stable. Everything was dark and foggy again.

I said, “Ma'am? What's your baby's name?”

The African man said, “Too-mah-ee-nee!”

The woman said, “He call her Too-mah-ee-nee, but I calls her Hope. You make sure you thank yo' ma. You make sure yo' ma tell Hope when she done growned …” Miss Chloe stopped and covered her mouth with her hand for a second. She pulled it away and said, “You make sure your ma tell Hope her pa full-blood African. And he say he use to be a king. And I believe him.”

“Yes, ma'am, I will. And I'll tell her her pa's name's Kamau and her ma's name's Chloe and she's got two names, Hope and Too-mah …”

Mr. Kamau said, “Too-mah-ee-nee, she our Too-mahee-nee.”

I said, “Too-mah-ee-nee.”

Mrs. Chloe said, “How you gunn 'member all them new names, 'Lijah?”

I told her, “I ain't good at mathematics, ma'am, but I'm real good at rememberizing things. Plus I got me a pencil and some paper in my tote sack and I'm gonna write 'em down.”

She said, “Stop! You writes? And reads?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You
is
truly, truly a miracle. But you gotta quit pressing our luck. Y'all gotta get on outta here.”

As I stepped back out of the stable, Mr. Kamau said, “Chloe, let
me
have gun.”

She said, “Man, hesh. Where you gunn hide it if I gives it to you? I'm-a keep it cover up in this here rag till Prayder and them worthless boys comes in the morn with our clothes. “Way I sees it, Old Scratch gunn owe me big 'cause bright and early tomorrow morn I sure am 'bout to send him back four of his cursed souls and one of his good-for-nothing dogs.

“'Sides, Mr. Kamau …” She laughed kind of soft. “… if you's the mighty African king you's always claiming you is, and you wants this here pistol so bad, why don't you come on over here and take it from me?”

There was a wait then the stable was fulled up with another soft laugh, this one deep and rumbling.

He said, “I love you, Chloe.”

She said, “Aww, hesh, Kamau, I love you too.”

Their soft laughs, that boy's bawling, and those chains rattling and scraping are sounds I'm gonna be hearing for the rest of my life. Even if I live to be fifty.

I wrapped the baby's arms 'round my neck and ran to where I'd tied Jingle Boy. I took two of my chunking stones out of my tote sack and put 'em in my pocket. I throwed the other ones and Mr. Taylor's sullied knife on the ground. I gentle set Hope Too-mah-ee-nee in the empty tote sack and tied her 'round my back, same as the women in the fields. And we started for Buxton.

Twixt Jingle Boy already being run too hard and me being careful whilst holding on to Hope Too-mah-ee-nee, we went easy and didn't get to the ferry in Detroit till near daybreak. She'd been a good baby and hadn't cried or nothing all the way there. Mostly she pulled at the hair on the back of my head.

Whilst we waited for the ferry to carry us to Windsor, I started wondering what would happen to Hope once we got to Buxton. But I knowed pretty quick. I knowed Mrs. Brown was probably gonna be able to buy some cloth with some colour in it from MacMahon's Dry Goods.

When the sun started peeking over the trees on Belle Isle I knowed I had to welcome Hope to Canada the right way, the same way growned folks do.

I pointed over to Canada and said to her, “Looky there! Look at that sky! Ain't that the most beautifullest sky you ever seen?”

'Stead of looking where I was pointing she looked at the end of my finger.

I put Hope Too-mah-ee-nee on my shoulder, pointed over at Windsor, and said, “Looky there, look at that land! Look at those trees! Have you ever seen anything that precious? It's the land of the free!”

She kept watching my finger.

“Now look at yourself, have you ever seen someone that looked so gorgeous?

“Today you're truly free, and you choosed the most beautifullest, most perfectest day for doing it!”

I raised her over my head and said, “All I'm wondering is, what kept you?”

She smiled at me, reached her hands down at my face, then spit up water all over me.

Even though most times getting throwed up on ain't the kind of thing you're gonna laugh 'bout, I did anyway.

I wiped my face off, pulled on Jingle Boy's reins, and led him up the ramp to the ferry.

It got me thinking 'bout Mr. Frederick Douglass, and it might sound like I'm being prideful again, but I knowed that once I got this little girl back to Buxton safe, I was pretty doggone sure waren't no one gonna remember what happened twixt him and me ever again. I knowed it was like he'd finally got his revenge and would quit plaguing me!

Once we set foot in Canada I put Hope Too-mah-eenee back in the tote sack. I decided I waren't gonna take no chances by running Jingle Boy too hard. I made him go mule speed 'stead of horse speed. It took a lot longer that way, so we didn't get to the west part of Buxton till sometime 'round noon.

And Hope slept the whole way.

 

Special thanks to Andrea Davis Pinkney and everyone at
Scholastic who helped make this so easy. Extra special thanks
to my editor Anamika Bhatnagar, who read this four million
times and still laughed in all of the right places.
I am very fortunate to have a group of wonderful readers
who help polish my writings. Continued thanks to Joan and
George (Mr. Congressional Gold Medal Award winner!)
Taylor, Mickial Wilson, Kaysandra Curtis,
Harrison Chumley Patrick, Kay Benjamin, Lynn Guest,
Eugene Miller, Teri Lesesne, Terry Fisher,
Janet Brown, Lauren Pankin, Debbie Stratton,
and particularly to my first three,
Pauletta Bracy, Richie Partington, and Steven Curtis.
Thanks to the Buxton National Historic Site
and Museum and Spencer Alexander
for their help with research.
And, as always, eternal thanks
to my parents, Herman and Leslie Curtis.