Good Fortune (9781416998631) (54 page)

After a little while, as we sat back in detached thought, I embraced him, an embrace that seemed to take us back through everything we had shared in our lives, things that made us inseparable.

When at last I stood to walk away, I saw Florence head down to where Daniel sat and seat herself next to him. At that moment, my happiness for the two of them prevailed over the other feelings in my heart.

But later on that night, as I got ready to lie in my pallet, silent streams of tears ran down my face. But I kept hearing the words I had held so close.

I'll see you again, Sarah, I promise
.

When, John? When? You're supposed to be dead, but I haven't even felt your spirit! I feel empty. I miss you, and I need you to
come to me like Mama does sometimes and even Mary did once! But you, the one I need the most, seem so far away. Do you see the same sun rise that I do? Am I going to be with you on the other side?
I cast these thoughts out to the night as I fell onto my pillow and drifted off to sleep.

The luscious scent of the forest fruits filled my nose as my toes tried to keep themselves from being buried within the soil. They had been carefully groomed, as had the rest of my body, for this sacred occasion. As I glanced up, my eyes caught the reflection of a domelike shape that radiated out with a reddish orange glow. The ocean had captured the sun as it sat idly on the horizon
.

Am I on the other side?

I felt a tingling sensation as I reached out and touched the sun. I felt bright and happy
.

Your ceremony.

The whispered words rang loudly through my ears. I opened my eyes and brushed my hand across my skin. I wasn't myself. I was …

“Mijiza!” The name of my mother was written across the covers of books scorched by fire.

I felt my feet moving forward, one step, then another, then another.

“You're late!” A girl my height came running at me with a head cloth she wrapped around me.

“Late for what? The sun's not done setting. I'm on its time.”

“But you're late!”

Images spun before me then halted.

The touch of a hand on my own was cold. The sun had disappeared.

“Come on. He's here, living in this place!” the girl screamed.

“Who, Mr. Caldwell? I know, I know!” I screamed back, but she was already skipping away.

Talking drums rang loudly in my ears. They spoke out in unison, repeating our family name in a rhythmic tone.

Ba-ha-tee … Ba-ha-tee … Ba-ha-teeeeee …

My heart fluttered. Or was it Mama's heart? She was the bride. I was the bride.

We watched our feet move once more, slowly now, through rich black soil. A figure in white standing before us whispered our name.

Mijiza
.

That was the name his lips formed. But that's not what I heard. Instead, I heard him scream,
Ayanna
.

My head jerked around as my feet stopped. They were no longer Mama's smooth, carefully groomed feet. I touched my back and felt the welts that slavery had inflicted upon me. I was no longer Mijiza. But I was not Ayanna, either.

No, my name is Anna
.

Sarah, you mean
.

No, Anna!
I raised my head to stare into those eyes. My lips shut.

He had come to my dreams.

CHAPTER
 
51 

I
WAS ALMOST EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
. H
OW MUCH DIFFERENT
would I have been if those eighteen years had been spent in the land where I was supposed to be, the land I was never supposed to have left. Sentwaki, my brother, would not be lost from me. My mother would be alive. And I would never have had to wish that John were still alive. Eighteen years I would have lived in happiness, had they left me where I belonged in my homeland. But that was not my fate.

However, today's occasion was not another birthday celebration for me. It was not quite that time. On this day in late September, 1824, we were celebrating the union of my brother and my best friend.

The ceremony took place at the church, like most other weddings. Florence and Daniel beamed throughout. Uniting them was a man of later years, our preacher. He had performed this ceremony so many times over the years that he knew the vows of marriage by heart. I stood, my fingers grasping my arms, while this man of God walked them through the ceremony.

“Can you believe this?” Daniel asked me afterward as we celebrated behind the church. He had released Florence's
hand just long enough to come speak to me.

“Yes, I think I can,” I said to him as he grinned at me.

Florence was just as excited and dashed happily between me and her other guests. When I found the chance, however, I separated myself from everyone.

Easing into my own space where my thoughts could flow freely, I enjoyed the solitude by the lake, where the fresh wind washed my face. I would only stay for a few minutes. I had wanted peace on this happy day, but hazy memories haunted me and I felt unsettled.

Why does today have to be one of those hard days? Why is it so difficult for me to accept that John is gone?

I felt my eyes brimming over, and a second later, I was kneeling by the lake, hugging my knees. No one was around: I didn't want anyone to see me so upset on my brother's wedding day. But I heard footsteps behind me, then a sigh much like my brother's. I wiped my eyes without looking back at him.

“Daniel, brother, please don't mind me. I want you to be happy today, not worried about me. I thought I was alone out here.”

Silence.

“Really, brother, I'm sure of what I'm saying. You can let me be.”

Still not hearing an answer, I looked out over the lake. I really didn't want to complain, but Daniel was here and he wouldn't leave …

“Daniel, he promised, he promised! It wasn't right to promise like that, but
he did. The pain is easing inside, but he'll never be washed from my blood, never!” I exclaimed, and then lowered my voice and head in sadness and frustration.

It sounded as if Daniel was trying to clear his throat but stopped short. I continued on, welcoming the chance to release what I felt inside.

“I miss him, but I don't long like I used to. It's like my heart knows that no other heart could fit better, and it seems content with that. But sometimes it seems as if we danced just yesterday. In my sleep, I still spin higher and higher in his arms. And his hands …” I laughed, remembering.

“But they say he's dead. Dead! I haven't felt it yet, though, and I know I should have. It's been nearly three years since I saw him last. Maybe he had found someone else and shared her dreams instead before he passed on. But no matter, now that he's gone, the piece of my heart made to love anyone like that is gone with him.”

But some promises are meant to be kept
.

This statement rang through my mind, almost as though someone had spoken them to me. I heard the words, and felt a strong reaction inside to hate them. But suddenly, I felt strong arms, not at all like Daniel's, encircling my body. My will must have been weak, for as my body tensed and my mind refused to recognize that touch, my heart melted into the moment. I felt warm breath on my neck.

I felt the lips, the nose, the pulse of a ghost! I froze, but my heart quickened.

“I bin standin' here, jus' a listenin' to you. That feelin' you felt deep inside, that was me, Sarah. I done promised
I'd come, an' here I am, flesh, bones, heart, an' all—my soul, too, all here fo' you.” The words that came tumbling out from those lips engulfed my spirit.

I couldn't move! I couldn't breath! I couldn't see! Everything in me said it was real, but how could it be?

Am I asleep or dreaming?
I prayed not, but I had to be. They said he was
dead
!

I shuddered, knowing that the arms encircling me had to be those of a ghost. I was dreaming, surely, but how could those words come so clear, so near, so real? Why would my mind be so cruel to me?

My lips parted before I had time to think further.

“John?” Implausibly, I addressed him. Then I turned, slowly, afraid of what I might see, or not see. What I did see was his face. That face, with the strong, dark, elegant features I had remembered so clearly. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on my soul.

But that can't be
.

I didn't understand. I could touch him: his skin, his arms, his chest, his face. I could feel his warm hands cupping my shoulders. I could smell the scent of his skin, of his sweat. I could hear his voice, deep, clear, and comforting. And his eyes! I could stare into those eyes of his, eyes that bore into my own, right through to my heart.

How could spirit be so real?

“John … you … you're dead!” I told him.

The ghost smiled.

“That's what the paper done said. What's your heart say?”

I shrugged, trying to grasp the memory whole in my mind before the ghost disappeared.

“The paper, ya … my heart, maybe … Maybe you're an angel! But I thought angels had big old wings!” I said, still searching for answers that would explain what was happening. At that, the spirit threw back his head and let out a deep laugh. The sound began and ended like the rising and falling of the tide and rumbled heavily in his chest.

“An' angel? Look at me!” he said, turning around so I could see his full form. “I haven't died yet, pretty gal! How could I? Hadn't found you befo' now!” He stepped closer to me and gently nudged my gaping mouth closed with his fingers.

I shook my head. “But I saw your name….”

“We had to say I was dead so they'd stop lookin' for me. I hid wit a Quaker man who helped me almost the whole way. They said Finch killed me, but Finch himself is 'gainst slavery, and he the one put it out in the papers and everythin'. But …”

He looked at me with sad eyes. I stared back, still not believing, trying to make sense of the words in his story.

“I prayed it didn't reach you wherever you was. How could I die befo' findin' you, Sarah? You my life, my freedom. Even if you had a family an' everything, I'd jus' be happy to say I found you, an' more than glad to see you agin. But God had it so I could find you right here, like this!”

Despite the education I had received, I couldn't think of anything to say. So, instead, I buried my face in his chest
and collapsed into him, escaping from everything else but this moment with him. As the moment matured, I began to see that this man I was embracing was no more a ghost than I was. This all was real, and my heart understood this before my mind and body did. We stood embracing for what seemed an eternity, and an eternity was just where I wanted to be. Tears were streaming down my face, but my grip didn't loosen at all.

“John … how … I can't …”

“Shh. Don't gotta think 'bout nothin'. Jus' gotta soar, right here, wit me.” John's voice resonated through my mind and awakened within me a feeling that my soul hadn't allowed me to forget.