Good Fortune (9781416998631) (31 page)

Florence, who had become a constant presence in the lives of my brother and me, was our eyes and ears until we could stand on our own. And even then, she was always there. It was as if she had been waiting for us to show up in the Hadson community. She was two years older than I was, a young woman filled with much energy and optimism.

In Mama Bessie's place, I felt like I had found a home among the children and the daily happenings. Even though Mama Bessie paid Florence and me a small stipend in addition to providing a place for us to live and food for us to eat, I felt, within the first few weeks, that Mama Bessie, Florence, and I shared something that ran deeper than this. Mama Bessie's rules on manners and hard work, most times directed toward the children, never fell short of my ears. But the children always made time for games and play—so much different from the life of the slave children on the plantation that I came from. Watching them brought a lightness into my heart.

Florence readily introduced me to the entertainment of the town. Sometimes, the church would sponsor festive celebrations that she often convinced me to attend. We'd meet other blacks from nearby communities. Some folks
would travel all the way from Indian villages looking for a new place to settle.

In my trips from Mama Bessie's to the town center, I found that most of Hadson's residents were young people who put a lot of effort into work and building businesses. I met folks who had been free for most of their lives. Courting was common, and from what I saw, simple marriages and the raising of families were common.

Occasionally, there'd be gatherings out in a clearing near the Hill, as everybody called it. There was a lake with a large tree on the right bank and a huge hill on the left. The clearing sat in the middle of a circle of trees, and a platform had been built there. The young townsfolk used it for dancing and fun every once in a while.

“I think we should go,” Florence said to me one evening as we cleaned up the last of the dishes. I had no desire to go, so I fussed, telling her I didn't wanna be around any music and dancing, but she wasn't having any of that. I eventually figured I could stay at Mama Bessie's and explain my feelings to Florence, or I could just go. Lord knows I couldn't begin talking about John without tears and anger, so I chose the easier of the two options.

“Sebastian coming?” Florence asked as we dressed for the gathering.

“Don't know. But why you concerned?” I asked, eyeing her with curiosity. She shrugged my question off.

“No matter.”

We reached the Hill in a matter of minutes, and Florence began introducing me to people I hadn't met.

“That fiddler up there, you see him?” She pointed to the man on a stool at the front of the clearing. He was sitting in the middle of a raised platform that had been built for the musicians. “He's blind, but just listen. He can scare away a storm with all that fiddlin'!”

We walked on and greeted others. Daniel eventually found us and lost himself in conversation with Florence. As they talked, a wave of loneliness washed over me, and I felt removed from all the music and laughter and dancing. My mind was far away, wondering if John had run yet and if he would he ever find me here and how long he would he look for. I thought about how I would know if something happened to him.

“Anna!” Daniel called out to me, excited.

“Yes?”

“Come on. We gonna dance like we did when we was younger. You rememba?” My heart warmed as it always did when I saw a real smile on my brother's face. Daniel grabbed my hands and pulled me all the way to the platform. We spun and moved and shuffled, laughing all the while. A little out of breath, we stopped after a while, and I stumbled back over to Florence.

“Enjoyin' yourself, huh?” Florence said with a grin.

“Well, you got some lookers over there,” she said, nodding to a spot under a tree where three young men sat. I glanced in their direction but quickly turned my eyes
away. Florence asked my brother if he was too worn out for another dance.

“Well, now, if you're offerin' your hand, I don't reckon I have much of a choice but to take it, do I?” Daniel teased her.

“Don't flatter yo'self, Sebastian.”

I laughed, enjoying the sight of the two of them walking off toward the music. But as the music played on, I felt my solitude tugging at the seams of my clothes. My attention began to drift to the fellows under the tree and as it did, an anxious feeling rose inside.

His eyes were smiles in themselves, and they were planted on me. They belonged to the tallest of the three young fellows. He brought another wide smile to his lips and nodded my way. I nodded back but gave him no smile in return.

I didn't come to the gathering for this.

My eyes fell back on the dancers, but my mind stayed with the young man as I noticed him stretch his limbs and walk my way. I stood my ground as the man came nearer to me, but I watched the musicians.

“Hello, miss.”

“Hello,” I said, without looking his way.

“You new around here?”

I nodded.

The man stood by me, silent for a few moments.

“Well, I'm Henry,” he said finally, stepping in front of me and holding out his hand. I looked at his palm. His hands were large, high yellow, and seemed soft. I shook it,
more for observation's sake than to be cordial. They were soft—even more of a reason to keep my space.

John's hands are rough.

“Well, now, you've got to have a name too.”

“Anna,” I replied.

“Well, Anna, I bet that you have some beautiful eyes. Wish I could see them. You think, maybe …”

I looked up at him, half-amused. His grin grew wider. Mine disappeared.

What does he want?

Suddenly, Florence came up beside us, breathing deeply and sweating, but also grinning.

“Henry! I see you've met Anna,” she said between breaths. “You know, she told me she hasn't danced much.” I turned angry eyes at Florence, but she didn't appear to notice.

“Naw, that cain't be,” he replied, shaking his head. “I saw her floatin' around the dance floor like she knew exactly what she was doin'!” He took my hand in his.

“Would you do me the pleasure of giving me this dance?”

But Henry's words never reached my ears. I caught two words: “floating” and “dance.” My heart fluttered. How silly of me to have come here. The wrong person was standing in front of me.

“Anna!” Florence chided, distant like a ghost from another world, “did you hear Henry?”

“Oh, ah … ya. But I'm … I gotta go back, Florence,” I said, taking my hand from Henry's grasp and stumbling past Florence in a daze.

“It was nice meetin' you, Henry,” I said with a single glance toward their puzzled faces.

Florence threw her hands up in the air as I began walking away.

“Anna, where you going?” she called to me.

“Well, see, I saw Sebastian headin' down to Rodney's some time ago, an' I was plannin' on goin' with him, so I just … I gotta go. You stay an' have fun. Don't worry about me.”

My brother had left to go to Rodney's, but that wasn't where I was headed. My heart ached, and I knew that I needed to be alone with my thoughts, with my prayers, with my tears.

John, why did you have to dance with me that December night?

My heart felt heavy, and my tears flowed freely. The further I separated myself from the Hill, the stronger my fear and doubt became.

Will I ever see John again?

CHAPTER
 
31 

L
IFE STRETCHED ONWARD AND WITH EACH NEW DAY CAME
a new sense of hope. Amid all the working and cleaning and meeting new people, I would occasionally find a piece of myself, something distant or from the past, that had been missing. This sure was freedom, but I was still bound to images of the whip, families torn apart, and screams heard in the darkness.

The whip haunted me. I'd lay awake at night hearing it echoing in my mind. I'd see John, lying there, bloody, sliced up, unmoving, his eyes wide and unblinking. My mind created so many questions at night.

But as time advanced, some of the more brutal images faded, and my doubts and fears became less pronounced. The feeling of being free in my homeland was very distant from me, but my soul drew the connection between then and the present. My dreams vacillated between images of the plantation and thoseof Africa.

For the five months we'd been in the Hadson community, I awoke early each Sunday morning, hours before anyone else in the household. Like the old Sundays when I was in slavery, I found my place of peace: here, it was on the
hill by the lake. I'd sit there and watch the sunrise, the same one I saw back on the plantation, except now the sunrise smiled upon a free girl. Sometimes, as I sat there, consumed by the essence of the moment, I would imagine my mother seated next to me. She would close her eyes, lie down by my side, and hold me in her arms, whispering secrets about what different dances meant, about nature and its gift to humanity, and about womanhood and the beautiful art of happiness beyond circumstance. She talked about my brother, Sentwaki, and of things I had forgotten. I would lie there, letting my thoughts and memories spin in my imagination.

Some Sunday mornings, I would hear footsteps. I knew they weren't real, but I allowed myself to hear them and the voice I longed for.
“You eva sailed the wind befo'?”
I'd try to, but I could never sail like I did back on my hill, back when John was with me.

In Hadson, church started later in the morning. After visiting my special place at the lake and traveling through the images of my mind, I would try to slip back into the house before it erupted with activity. Florence and I, and any other woman who happened to be passing through, would grab the children's clothes and iron until our hands were sore. Mama Bessie would fix breakfast and call the youngest to the kitchen to eat first, followed by the other children, with the older ones eating last. After everyone was washed, dressed, and fed, we would head out to church.

This morning was no different. Florence and I stood side by side, with a child grasping each of our hands, and
walked down the dusty roads. The church sat slightly behind the home of one of its members. It was a small wooden building with two windows on each side and a cross placed above the door.

Many people were in attendance, even those who didn't come to church regularly, because today marked the church's tenth anniversary. There were not enough seats for everyone in the building, so many stood in the aisles. Fortunately, Florence and I had arrived early, and we found our normal seats in the second row. Since there were so many children, one of the women of the neighborhood had been asked to take them to a nearby house and do a separate sermon. Mama Bessie called it the “children's church.”

As Florence and I seated ourselves, little Ned came running up. He was always a delight, so curious about everying, and I had to admit that I favored his presence over those of the others.