Good Fortune (9781416998631) (42 page)

She took my hands. That's when the rush came, the tears now spilling with sobs that heaved from my chest.

“Who's the one who makes these things happen, Mrs. Rosa? I know I ain't different from the rest of them whose lives are torn apart by that system of slavery. Death is what those slave holders want. Separation is what they want. They want us to hurt—to love an' forget. They want us to hide our feelings an' fear so that we ain't no better than dogs. People seen this all they lives. Don't see why my life would be different. So when I tell you I got this hope, it hurts even more to know that for all it's worth, I might not even see my John again.” She watched me closely as my tears ceased and calmness took its place.

“He's a piece of your freedom, is he?”

I nodded. “So if he never comes, you'll never be free?”

I looked up at her, confused, wondering why even this had to sound like some sort of problem from a lesson that needed to be worked through.

“Mrs. Rosa, don't know what you mean. Didn't want this to be just another lesson.”

“Everything's a lesson, Anna, even the things that feel like this. Now, look around you and see if you can answer my question.”

I did as she said, and my eyes naturally fell on the books.

“Education is my freedom.”

She nodded, but I felt unconvinced.

“So, you're saying he ain't part of my freedom?” I asked.

“You mean,
isn't
a part of your freedom.”

“That's what I meant. He
isn't
a part of it?”

“I'm just sharing my opinion, Anna. I thought the same thing as you when I was younger. But what you feel in your heart is something quite separate from your freedom. It's just a piece of your heart. Maybe he's got that piece; maybe he'll have it forever. But that doesn't have to keep you from being free.”

“I think I can understand that,” I said, thinking hard about her words.

“And, you know, life's greatest gifts come from pursuing and holding on to what gives your life purpose. For you, right now, that's education.”

I crossed my arms and sighed. “Guess that is a purpose, a purpose I can sure live with and be happy about. But John gives me purpose, too, Mrs. Rosa,” I explained to her, readily awaiting her response. I found myself hanging on to her words with a strong respect.

“Well, let that purpose ring out in what you do! Let it drive you to make the most of the freedom you have.”

I nodded. “I … I can do that. Sure I can.” A few seconds' pause followed my words.

“I'm scared, Mrs. Rosa. Scared he ain't—he's not—ever gonna find me. Scared he might give up and settle. Scared he gonna be found and taken back. Scared Masta gonna kill him!”

She patted my hand to comfort me, though tears still wet her cheeks. “It's okay to be scared, Anna. Fear isn't really a bad thing if you can see it for what it is without letting it stop you from doing what you have to do. Put a word or two in for John, a prayer as deep as you wish it to be. But you have a purpose, so keep your head up as high as you can and keep your passion churning in your soul. You go to church,” she said, needing no response, “so you know things are always going to happen by the grace of God.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

“Now, I don't mean to always make something into a lesson—”

“No, it's all right, Mrs. Rosa. I think that if my mother was living, she would be the same way.”

She smiled with appreciation. “But aside from all my words, there's not much more I can offer you, Anna. You”—she laughed a little—“you're like a good book to me. Every time you read it, you find something you never saw before.”

I laughed with her.

“Mrs. Rosa, is … is Little Sue's father still around?”

“You mean, am I married, Anna?” she asked.

“That's what I mean.”

“Yes, I am. But that's enough of that. I wanted to give you something, a gift I forgot to give you for Christmas.” Mrs. Rosa walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a stack of bound sheets of paper that had been written on.

“I want you to have this. It's a story about different people's lives—about blacks in the south, blacks here in the north, and blacks across the waters.” She handed the stack to me.

“You've been to all these places?” I asked her. She nodded, pausing for a moment to consider what was on her mind, and continued, “My father was from Africa, taken to France as part of the slave trade. Our family was freed.”

I nodded but was shocked by the idea that she had lived in a world so far from here. “I guess that means you don't really agree with much of what Miss Wheatley writes,” I commented, remembering some of the poems of hers we read about the land she came from.

“Well, no. I couldn't ever feel right saying my father's homeland was pagan, although back in France, they tried their best to instill that in me. Sometimes, reading what she wrote, I figure she knew that, but I can't say for sure. But that's beside the point. What she accomplished was amazing to me. That book you are holding is my dedication to her,” she said, pointing to it.

“The book is fiction, but the lives of the characters are as realistic as I could make them. I don't plan on having it printed. I'd rather share my work with good people like you. So take it. Read it,” she insisted. Her eyes suddenly
glazed over with seriousness. “But you keep it to yourself, you hear? Don't let it get around …,” she dropped her defensive gaze quickly, “I mean, it's just a simple, small thing. Enjoy it, but keep it to yourself, if you will.”

I took it as she bid, a large smile brightening my face as she led me to the front door to see me off. But I turned back. I had nearly forgotten to give her the gift I had for her.

“I almost forgot,” I said handing her a box. “I kept this through Christmas, as you did with my gift. It's not much, but I hope you like it.” Inside was a piece of beautiful material on which I stitched her name. I had thought she might hang it over one of her bookcases.

Surprised, she held the box, admiring its contents.

“Wanted you to know how grateful I am,” I said simply.

“All right, Miss Anna. Please study hard!”

“Yes ma'am,” I replied, stepping out the door.

Reaching home later than I expected, I found Daniel and Florence talking while Daniel built some object for a man in town. These small jobs brought him both joy and a bit of extra money.

As I approached them, their speech tapered off.

“You're friendly again with my brother, I see,” I said to Florence.

“Don't really have a choice but to be friendly with him. He is your brother.” She laughed at her remark, but Daniel's face didn't change.

“Just friendly?” I asked with a small smile, challenging her response.

“Well, sure, don't see why not,” she said with a long
look at Daniel. His eyes didn't budge. I laughed. The two of them seemed to be growing closer, despite what they claimed. I felt as if I knew Florence so well, and if anybody was going to catch the attention of my brother, I would have hoped it to be no one else but her.

“How was the ed-u-cation today?” she asked.

“Well, there's Anita. She's very smart with her books and lessons, but she seems so distant, so far away from everything. She ain't polite at all one moment, but then the next, she's almost nice.”

“Stop tryin' to figure everybody out, sis,” Daniel said.

“Even if you tried, don't think you could figure that one out. Anita's been like that since I've known her. Just quiet, and off to herself most times,” Florence added, turning around to face me. “What else happened?” she asked.

“Got this for a gift,” I said, holding up the book, waiting for their excitement to show. Florence took the book and held it up for Daniel to see, then handed it back to me.

“This sho' is something nice, Anna,” Florence remarked.

I smiled and put the book away for the moment and seated myself with them.

“Florence, you were in town today. Anything go on I should know about?” I asked her as I always did.

“Nothing much. Just helped out Mrs. Susie a little bit in her shop for a few hours. Mama Bessie had help in the house.”

“Any new folks come by the shop?”

“Well, ya! A woman came by from Riverside. Say she heard about Mrs. Susie's an' needed some wedding dress.
Mrs. Susie gave the job to me!” she said, quite excited.

“A wedding dress? That sounds like a lot of work. What else went on at the shop?” I asked. I could tell I hit the right nerve. She soon lost herself in explaining her day, as was so natural for her to do.

“An' that foolish boy, Steve, came by again,” she was telling me.

“Again?” I asked with a laugh.

“Sure!”

“That Steve would never give me any kind of attention,” I said.

Florence laughed. “Well, you won't believe this, Anna. He … he asked me to marry him! Just up an' out of nowhere!” As she and I giggled, I caught Daniel's expression over her shoulder. He glanced up with a frown, then immediately looked back down at the wood in his hands. Florence went on, and as she did, Daniel's tools made more and more noise. I was amused at my brother's irritation, especially as I found him fighting with his own reactions to Florence's comments. I wondered just how deep his feelings for her ran.

“… told him I ain't ready to be no wife, and I didn't even know him well enough, an' … Sebastian,” she said, turning around to look at Daniel.

“I'm trying to talk to your sister, but I cain't hardly hear myself!” The banging grew softer, and she turned back to me.

“He told me to think about it, an' I said I would. Don't mean I am, but … but marriage, Anna?” She laughed again. “How can …”

Daniel suddenly stood up. “Since this conversation ain't for me …” He stood there with his belongings, anticipating a response. I said nothing. Florence looked back at him again, crossing her arms to see if what he had to say really made up for his interrupting her like he had. But he said nothing and walked out of the room.

“Don't think he wanted to hear all that, Florence,” I said to her with a light laugh. She glanced over her shoulder, considering what I'd said.

“Don't know why it would bother him. It ain't like it's on his mind to ask me somethin' like that.” Her lips spoke those words, but her eyes told me something different.

The next day, Daniel came back with a swollen left hand. He wouldn't tell me how it happened. But over the next few days, Flo told me that Steve had suddenly stopped coming around. She was amused, but she held her stubborn pride with my brother as long as she could. Despite this, I began to see something unraveling before my watchful eyes, something Daniel and Florence were trying to remain oblivious to but that was catching up to them nonetheless. Daniel was changing. He seemed to be drifting out of his socially playful ways, and spoke more and more of how things would be with a family of his own. It was all for the better, it seemed. And Florence was at the root of this change.

CHAPTER
 
39 

“S
EBASTIAN
… S
EBASTIAN, WHERE ARE WE GOING
?” M
Y BROTHER
pulled me down the street, heading toward the center of Hadson.

“I told you, Anna. You know them meetings in Hadson I go to all the time? That's where we goin'.”

“Sebastian, I don't have any interest in men drinking an' talking loud about nonsense.”

He laughed. “Why I gotta keep tellin' you? It ain't like that. You gonna see. Think you might 'preciate it.”

Daniel and I had left Mama Bessie's that cold evening to head down to the community meetings that were held to discuss our responsibilities in our community. Daniel had invited Florence, but she couldn't go. She was preoccupied with trying to finish sewing her gift to the mother of a newborn baby. So, Daniel and I continued on to Hadson, stopping only to greet passersby on the streets.