Good Fortune (9781416998631) (37 page)

“Well, then, who you writin' an' thinkin' them things fo'?”

“Fo' me, Sebastian. An' for Rodney, I suppose.”

“What good's that do?”

“Plenty. If I cain't get an' education, then I'ma have to make myself one. I might as well do it writin' 'bout things I see goin' on round here.”

“But share it!” he said, the veins in his neck becoming very prominent.

“Sebastian, I'm not gonna do that jus' yet, an' I'd think you'd do me mighty fine to hush up 'bout it.”

“All right then,” he said, rising from the table and finding his way back to the door.

“You'll think 'bout it, though?” A sly smile slid across his face. “For me, Anna?”

“Go on, Sebastian,” I said, waving him away.

CHAPTER
 
35 

T
WO ROADS LED FROM THE
H
ADSON TOWN CENTER TO
M
AMA
Bessie's. The longer of these stretched across significant pieces of land with natural sights that caught even the most unobservant eye. The shorter road was less eye-catching, but useful when a faster route was called for.

Walking into town late that afternoon, I had taken the longer route. I had nothing more to do that evening than to complete my tasks for Mama Bessie and the household.

I entered Mrs. Susie's shop to buy what Mama Bessie needed and to pick up my newspaper. The shop was always my last stop if Florence wasn't with me. Every week, Mrs. Susie's husband would bring me back a newspaper from the city, and I'd drop a penny in Mrs. Susie's hand in exchange for it.

“Thank you, Mrs. Susie,” I said with a smile, placing the coin in the woman's palm.

“My pleasure, Miss Anna,” she responded, placing the paper on the counter. As I grabbed the newspaper and turned to go, a sheet of paper slid from among the pages and floated onto the floor. I glanced up at Mrs. Susie, who had turned her back to me, and bent down to pick it up.

The words on the page were written in beautiful penmanship, and read:

I glanced again at Mrs. Susie. “Mrs. Susie, you know somethin' 'bout this?” She twirled back around and saw me waving the page. Her face folded in a frown.

“Naw. Where it come from?”

“Jus' slipped from the newspaper!”

She put her hand thoughtfully on her mouth. “Reckon that ain't my husband's, neither. He can read some but cain't do no writin'—not like that, at least, an' he don't own no paper that look like that. What it say?” I looked back up at her, then crumpled the page in my hand.

“Nothin' important, it don't seem. Think somebody slipped it in there by mistake.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, returning her attention to the fabric that stretched across the counter.

“Good night, Mrs. Susie.”

“Goodnight, chile.”

I walked outside and glanced around me to see if anyone was watching, or if anyone looked suspicious. Mr. Jones, the neighbor Florence had introduced as “the man with the limp,” walked slowly across the street, pushing a cart before him; two children squealed, hopping over a small puddle of rainwater; Ms. Tee sat still with her eyes closed, seated on the porch of her shop. Every person I saw seemed to be occupied with his or her own life, and no one took any notice of me.

I flattened out the paper and read the words three times over with both fascination and fear.

Is this a mistake, or was it meant to fall into my hands? What does it mean? Who is it from? And how did that person know I wanted an education?

It seemed too much of a coincidence for it to be a mistake. But then a thought struck me: What if this was a trap? Could it be that slave catchers had found me out and wanted to take me back down south? But the method made little sense. What was going on?

Or was the school after me, wanting to punish me for grabbing the teacher's wrist? But that had been so long ago.

Or, what if there was no danger? What if I was simply being offered the chance at learning—the education I constantly dreamed of?

Whoever it was seemed to know me well. But I quickly came back to my senses. I knew from my escape how cautious it was necessary to be. However much I regretted running away from the chance at an education, I didn't want to take the risk of walking down that road.

“I'm sure this is what my brother would do, at least,” I whispered to myself, trying to shake off my disappointment as I took the shorter path back home. My curiosity, however, lingered alongside the fear.

I walked on, and the evening air felt good across my skin. When I was a good distance from town, I lifted my finger to the sky and traced out four letters, trying to distract myself.

J-O-H-N.

“Excuse me, miss.” I jumped at the voice and spun around to see a figure approaching me with a relaxed gait from quite a distance away. My eyes darted around to see if anyone else was in sight, but we were the only two people on the road. He had to be talking to me.

“Who's there?” I called back, my heartbeat quickening. I now shuffled slowly backward as I squinted into the darkness to see if I could make out the person who was nearing me.

“Sah, you talkin' to me? You need somethin'? Do I know you, sah?” I said, continuing my backward movement.

“I daresay you don't, miss, but I'd like to speak with you!” The voice called back in a friendly and light-hearted tone. The accent, however, was unfamiliar to my ears. My feet stopped as I clutched the paper in my hands tighter. I stood where I was.

Could this be the note writer?

“I apologize for finding you at such a late hour. In light of my own daytime responsibilities, I had no other choice.” His pace slowed as he neared me.

“I figured you wouldn't go down that other road. You're careful, then, as I supposed. You'll need that. Caution is important. You'll need that.”

“Sah, I don't rightly know what you mean by that an' … an' …”

“That other road,”
he had said.

“The letter—that note. It was you who wrote it, wa'an't it? Who are you?” I called uneasily back into the night. I could see only the outline of his clothes, but from that I noted how well he was dressed. He wore a suit, boots, gloves, and a hat. I glanced behind him, but it appeared that he was alone. He approached me with a quick yet untroubled step.

“Don't be alarmed, Miss Anna. I would like to help you,” the man said, walking closer, and stopping only when he was a few arms' lengths from where I stood. I still couldn't see his face clearly.

“My name. How you know my name, sah?” I stopped short and caught my breath. It was quite dark now, but some things about the man stood out almost instantly. He almost surely, from what I could make out in the dark, was a white man.

“Sah, I don't … I don't think you got the right person,” I said softly.

“No, no, I believe you're the person I wanted to speak with. It's Miss Anna, am I correct?” he asked calmly. I could see that he was smiling.

I nodded slowly, then added, “Sah, I haven't done nothin' wrong …”

“No, heavens no! I daresay you haven't.”

“But sah, you're … you're a …”

He stepped closer and gestured with his hand in the direction I had been headed. “Please, don't let me keep you from continuing on your journey. I'll walk with you in the direction you're headed, if that's acceptable to you. As I said before, I would just like a quick word. I want to help,” he repeated.

I frowned and avoided the man's gaze, my heartbeat quickening once again. It seemed like he was here to do me no harm. But what was he here for? His letter spoke about education, but what could a white man possibly do to help educate me?

“Sah, reckon I don't need no help with nothin', specially from no one like … no one like you.”

He chuckled softly, looking down at his feet. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to respond. I admitted to myself that I was curious.

“I understand why you might say that. Please don't be alarmed. I really am not here to harm you. I think, perhaps, you'll be quite interested in what I have to say.” The man had already begun walking before he finished talking, leaving me no time to think about whether or not I should follow him. I took a few long strides to catch up, though I purposely left a significant gap between the two of us.

“You read my note,” the man said matter-of-factly without glancing my way.

“Yes,” I said quietly, trying to collect my thoughts, which strayed between curiosity and doubt. I recalled my
last attempts to seek an education. The odds did not seem to be on my side.

“Well, I understand that you desire to receive an education.” His statement hung in the air like a question, but my lips seemed to be sealed shut. Surely he wasn't speaking of providing me with an education! I had sought out and gone to heavy extents to find something that didn't seem possible to obtain. How could this man suddenly change all of that?

“I've heard it from other folks, but I must hear it from you. Do you want to learn? Get educated?” His words jumped out at me again and circled before me. I sighed into the air with irritation. What right had this man to talk to me about something I couldn't have? The question haunted and mocked me.

“Sah, even if I do tell you what I want, I jus' cain't see how you gonna help me. An' why you wanna help in the first place? Seems to me I couldn't mean much to you. Never seen you before. Don't have nothin' to give you. What is it makes you come round this way talkin' of helpin' me?” I asked, giving voice to the doubts in my head.

“You keep jumping to my attention, and I've made it my business to understand your intentions, and to give you a hand in these affairs.” He waited as I considered his words. I tried to ignore the hope and anticipation and excitement that were bubbling up inside me.

“Ain't nothin' much else I want more than to learn, sah,” I said slowly, “but there's still somethin' unclear to me. Don't see how I can be ‘jumpin' to your attention' as
you say. You say you don't wanna do me no harm, but sah, quite plainly, your words makin' me a bit nervous.” In my heart, I knew that was a lie. I was far from nervous: I was clinging to his words tighter than a baby to its mother.

The man looked over at me as he walked, and I averted my eyes from his.

“Well, you caught quite a bit of my attention up at the school in the city.”

“The school?” I asked, feeling my heart dip quite suddenly into panic.

He nodded. “Yes. Twice, I believe, you came by, though I daresay it may have been more than that?”

“You were there?” His chuckle came again, warm like a summer breeze. I looked over at the man again, and this time met his eyes.

Those eyes.
They looked so familiar.

The scenario flashed quickly across my mind once more: the schoolteacher, my hand around her wrist, the man standing at the door. He was the man I'd seen at the school!