Good Fortune (9781416998631) (45 page)

“I know he'll be back safe. I jus' know it! I jus' wish he didn't have to go,” she said, brushing a tear from her eye.
She sighed, ran a hand over her hair, and turned to me, a weak smile crossing her lips.

“You ready for a long day?”

Two and a half weeks went by, and my mood darkened. However sad Florence felt over Daniel's absence, she remained in high spirits, hopeful that he'd return unharmed. She didn't know his true purpose. He had gone back for Mary—I could see it all over his face! Florence didn't understand that there was really no such thing as a runaway successfully returning to the South and making it back to the North. She didn't understand how foolish Daniel had been to leave us.

I thought about this as I walked home on a Thursday evening from Mrs. Rosa's. Oddly enough, Daniel leaving seemed to muddle everything in my mind except my education. My desire to learn all I could only strengthened, and I put all my energy into it.

Words were my life. This life was my love. But did I love this life? It was so painful, so …

“Look, Anna, look what I made fo' him!” Florence was walking quickly up to me. In her eyes, I could see hints of redness, but where tears once had been I saw a childlike excitement. I took the small blanket she was holding.

“It's for Sebastian's friend's little baby. He made the little boy a wood toy, an' I figured I could do somethin' for
the baby too. Sebastian gonna be so happy when he gets back.”

“He ain't comin' back, Flo.” I said harshly. The excitement seeped out from Florence's eyes. Her smile turned into a frown, and she spoke to me with an edge of anger in her voice.

“What's wrong with you, Anna? Don't know how you reckon that, but it ain't the truth. He said he'll be back, and you watch!”

I was about to respond, to tell Florence again that he wouldn't return, but it seemed useless. She wouldn't hear me out until time proved me right. I held back the tears with mature patience. This was the way things went: life brought people I loved close to me, and it often took them away. I'd have to find peace in that.

“This your brother. Don't you trust him?” Florence asked. I nodded slowly. “Then get yo'self together,” she said, her jaw tight.

Florence took the blanket and headed back toward the house. The doubts in my own mind were screaming too loudly for me to hear the assurance in her words. I didn't think she was as angry as she looked, maybe just scared at what I had said. I turned my thoughts to Mary and whispered to her spirit.

“Aunt Mary, I don't know what to do. Pray for your son, Aunt Mary. Please pray for him.”

CHAPTER
 
41 

“A
NNA
, I
WANT TO INVITE YOU TO DINNER TOMORROW NIGHT
at my house. I would like you to meet my husband.” Another week had come and gone, and I was at the now-familiar house of my tutor. I had tried my best to work through the day's lessons with poise, but I was distracted by the emptiness I felt. I had been readying myself to head back to Mama Bessie's when Mrs. Rosa invited me for dinner.

“You haven't talked about him much. What does he do, again?” I asked. She looked at me with a curious grin.

“Just about everything under the sun.”

Reaching Mama Bessie's, I ran into Ned at the front of the yard, and he dragged me into the house, bursting with news of the events of the day.

“And Helen just had him hollerin' an' all….” I let the boy talk until he was red in the face as I greeted Mama Bessie and helped her with dinner for the children. When he had finally finished and run back out to the yard to play, I told Mama Bessie about my plans for the evening.

“Well, go ahead, chile! I have the help I need tonight.”

I thanked Mama Bessie, greeted Florence, and left for
Mrs. Rosa's house, whistling to myself to keep my thoughts at bay. Reaching her door, I knocked softly. The door came open in a flash, and Mrs. Rosa, abandoning her normal intimidating stature, pulled me along through the house to one of the back rooms. As soon as I seated myself at the table, a procession of knocks, an awkward little tune, sounded on the front door. Then I heard the door creak open.

“Hello!” a voice called out.

“One minute, Anna,” Mrs. Rosa said as she hurried around the corner to receive her husband. I heard the door shut.

“Hey there, miss! I'm, ah, I'm looking for a stolen beauty, a rose of some kind. They told me I might find her here, somewhere in this house. I know I've just barged in, but do you think you can help me?” The man's loud and hauntingly familiar voice echoed throughout the house. Mrs. Rosa's laugh was carried pleasantly to my ears.

“Hush all of that, would you? You know we have company. Anna's here.”

“Indeed, you told me to expect your best student. I'm certainly intimidated!”

I could hear their footsteps, and in a matter of seconds, Mrs. Rosa's husband followed her through the kitchen doorway. Looking at the man, I prayed that my true reaction didn't show on my face.

“This is my husband, Anna,” Mrs. Rosa said, watching my expression with amusement. I followed him closely with my eyes, unsure of whether to hold out my hand. I was stunned: She was married to a white man.

However, as he walked closer, and finally stopped to stand behind a seat at the table, my initial thoughts stood still with a sudden realization. I knew him.

“Mr. Caldwell!” He smiled, warmly, and held out his hand. I stood quickly and grasped it. “It was you—you got me an education!”

“Well, now,” Mrs. Rosa said, “I daresay I had just a little bit to do with that, don't you think?” She laughed, then disappeared for a moment to gather the dishes, as Mr. Caldwell and I sat down.

In the light, where his face was exposed much more clearly than before, I noticed how young he looked. He had a playfulness about him and a light in his eyes, which made me feel quite at ease in his presence. In the dark, it had seemed obvious to me that he was a white man, but here in the light from the table, I had to drag my eyes across his face twice before I settled on that conclusion, and even then somewhat uncertainly.

“Mr. Caldwell, I … I don't think I rightly understand. You two … That just ain't common….”

“Miss Anna,” Mr. Caldwell began, his lips curling upward in a smile, “you speak as if I were a white man.”

“But, sir, ain't it the truth? It's quite plain—”

“Please excuse me for not sharing this—I didn't think it was necessary to correct you before—but folks do say it takes little more than a drop of Negro blood to make a person black.” He dramatically held his hands up to the candlelight to find that single drop.

“You're a black man, sir?” I asked as Mrs. Rosa walked back in, placed the dishes on the table, and sat down. He nodded with an understanding smile on his lips at my shocked expression, which I didn't even try to withhold.

“Sure, that is, if you choose to see it that way.” I gazed at him again, curiously, and almost laughed as my eyes began to see what I hadn't before. His lips were like Daniel's; his hair was cut short, but hints of a natural curliness seemed to be hiding there. He was a black man, but mixed almost beyond recognition.

“All right, now, that's enough surprise before the meal,” Mrs. Rosa said as she prepared the table.

“Where's my Little Sue?” Mr. Caldwell asked as we began to eat.

“Asleep, like she ought to be at this time.” But just at that moment, a noise that began as a low whine and quickly erupted into wailing drifted down to our ears. Mr. Caldwell threw his head back and laughed as if he'd never been more amused.

“Look at that! She knows when her father's home.” Mr. Caldwell laughed a bit more and held Mrs. Rosa's gaze with pleading eyes until she gave in to his unspoken request with a sigh.

“All right, Caldwell, I'll bring her down. Listen to her. Sixteen months, and already carrying on like that.” Mrs. Rosa left the table, and Mr. Caldwell watched her closely until she had completely disappeared around the corner.

“Don't let her fool you. She wanted Little Sue down here
just as much as I did,” he said, leaning in and whispering. I smiled, and he leaned back once more.

“But anyhow,” Mr. Caldwell said after his laughter died down, “I'm quite proud of you, Anna.”

“Thank you, sir—”

“Call me Caldwell,” he said, interrupting me.

“Okay, Mr. Caldwell.”

“That's my household name, my real name. I don't often use it outside of here. It's dangerous for me. It's not so easy acting as if I were white in one world and black in another, but I've been doing it for most of my life. I'm sure you wonder why I choose to fall back into my role as a black man. It's not too common for folks who can pass, but I believe it's my responsibility, and it gives me a sense of pride, if I may say so. But I do what I need to do to appeal to society and make the mark I feel I'm destined to make.”

“What mark is that?” I asked him. He looked over at me and raised his eyebrows.

“That, I am still working to understand. I spoke to you, that night some time ago, about the dangers of using education to make a difference in the lives of the people you see struggling around you, about using it to challenge existing systems. I've had my share of digging into that side of education and, well …” He fingered the edge of the plate in front of him and lowered his eyes. “Rosa hates this talk.”

“But why would she hate it? Seems to me that's something noble.”

He scratched the top of his head and shrugged. “Noble, perhaps, but all things come at a cost, Anna.”

“That must mean you were in some trouble.”

He nodded slowly but kept his lips shut as he stared past me.

“What happened? If it's all right to ask.”

He snapped back to attention and chuckled. “You've got a lot of questions. It's no wonder my wife likes you so much,” he said with another small smile.

“After Rosa and I married, the two of us undertook writings we thought could benefit society. We didn't really understand the dangers then. We were very young, and we made our way here from Europe. I had a little bit of money, inherited, and we traveled with that, sometimes under guises I'd rather not explain,” Caldwell said with a frown I almost did not see.

“But we came here and decided to write about what we saw going on around us. Rosa's approach was more practical: She took in some students and edited my work. She and I thought we could do something about injustice and be a voice for the black people. Through me, we could carry it to the white society and make some kind of a difference. But we came face-to-face with the true nature of inequality. A few men took me, hid me, and showed me no mercy. I was beaten for days, and they threatened to sell me—to sell me, Anna!” He laughed, despite himself, a laugh that quickly disappeared behind subtle lines on his forehead and around his mouth.

“That's what gave me an intelligence you couldn't
learn in books. If I wanted to live out my dream, I had to learn to dodge the dangers and maintain a dual life. But”—he shook his head back and forth and stared hard at the table—“Rosa doesn't like remembering those times, as would be expected.” He turned his eyes up to me, and I saw fragments of the past drifting plainly into view.