The Color of Your Skin Ain’t the Color of Your Heart (9 page)

“Aleta told us that their hooves might get infected if they stood too long where it was wet, and the water’s getting into the barn pretty bad. It’s coming in from the pasture.”

“I see—did she, now?” nodded Henry. “I’m a wonderin’ how Miz Aleta figgered dat out.”

“She said her father’s a blacksmith and knows about horses.”

“Did she, now?” nodded Henry, taking in the information thoughtfully.

All at once Katie realized what she’d done. We looked at each other, wondering what Henry would do. The look on his face said that he was turning the thing over in his mind. If Aleta’s father knew horses, there wasn’t much chance that Henry wouldn’t know him if he lived anywhere for ten miles around.

Whatever Henry was thinking, he didn’t pursue it right then.

“Well,” he said after a bit, “I reckon Miz Aleta’s right ’bout dat. But on da udder han’, da danger ob hoof rot ain’t so bad as da danger ob dem slippin’ an’ breakin’ a leg on da slippery boards ob a porch, spechully when dey start makin’ a mess beneath them. Dey’s jes’ a mite too skittish fer a place like dat effen you ax me.”

“Dover already broke loose and got into the house,” said Katie.

“I can’t say I’s surprised, nohow,” said Henry. “Well, hit wuz a good idea, but why don’t you show me jes’ how bad it is in dat barn, an’ den we’ll see what’s ter be done. Meantime, looks like Red here’s content fer a spell longer, an’ unless I’s mistaken, ol’ Dover’s ready ter foller us back ter da barn.”

We walked back around the house.

“Looks like dat rain’s finally lettin’ up,” said Henry, gazing up at the sky.

I hadn’t even noticed. But now that I did, I saw that he was right. The rain had changed to a drizzle.

“How long will the rain last, Henry?” asked Katie.

“Hard ter say, Miz Kathleen. Folks roun’ ’bout is plenty worried, I kin tell you. From da looks ob it, you’s doin’ right well. But dere’s some folk’s houses whose kitchens already got water ober da floor.”

An hour later we were all back in the house having something to eat and warming up and Henry drinking the coffee we’d made for him. The horses were safely back in the barn after our adventure of trying to move them. We could smell the evidence of Dover’s brief flight into the house from the other room, which we’d have to clean up later.

We were laughing and in good spirits to have Henry there and not to feel so alone and isolated—though speaking for myself, I wished Jeremiah had come with him.

“Well, I’s jes’ glad ter see you ladies ain’t no worse fer all dis flood, an’ I reckon yer critters’ll come through it jes’ fine too.”

“What will you do now, Henry?” asked Katie.

“I reckon I’ll git back in dat dere boat an’ try ter ride dat stream down across da river.”

“That seems too dangerous!”

“I reckon it is a mite at dat,” chuckled Henry. “But da water don’t bother me none. When I wuz a boy I wuz a slave way west ob here on da Mississippi. Why, I cud tell you stories ob dat blame river dat’d make yo eyes pop right outta yer head.”

“Oh, tell us, Henry!” said Katie excitedly. “I want to hear about it!”

Henry kept laughing to see Katie’s enthusiasm.

“Well, maybe da time’ll come fer dat one day,” he said.

“But you kin see dat no little river like dis is gwine worry me.”

“You call dis a little river … even with da flood!” exclaimed Emma.

“You should see dat Mississippi in springtime,” said Henry. “Hit always looks like dis, an’ dat’s when it ain’t floodin’! No, chil’, dis yere water don’t put no fright inter me, nohow.”

But it was already getting late in the day, and Katie convinced Henry not to start back for Greens Crossing but to stay the night at Rosewood.

That was another adjustment for us all to make. Just when we got used to one change, it seemed there was another one to face, just like Aleta having to get used to seeing Katie treating me like a friend, and then walking into the house and seeing
another
colored girl living under Katie’s roof. It was a good while that we’d been getting on together like a family, all of us used to one another and the others’ ways of doing things, all of us knowing it was Katie’s house and that she was the one who was in charge. I guess we’d all had to get used to each others’ peculiarities too. Maybe that’s part of what being a family is.

So it was strange to see how we all reacted to having a grown-up around—and a colored one at that! Katie, of course, was the most color-blind of us all and was excited as could be. The minute Henry agreed to stay, she started talking about what to fix for supper and wanted to make him something special, like he was the president or something. But Aleta was a little subdued, because every once in a while Henry would eye her like he was still thinking about her more than he was letting on. Henry’d been around enough that all of us were used to him and knew he was our friend and wanted to help us. But having him there for the evening and all night … it just made it different—like we had to get used to him all over again.

And it’s a funny thing about colored folk—as much as we talk about white folks treating us different, we treat each other different too. Black folks are mighty particular about how they expect other black folks to act, especially around white folks. They don’t want any other colored person taking liberties or getting too familiar with
their
whites. And so as much as I’d come to love Henry, all of a sudden I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye to see how he was with Katie, making sure he didn’t take too many liberties or speak too familiarly with her, making sure he behaved himself under Katie’s roof.

It was silly, of course. Look at all the liberties
I’d
taken! Katie’d let me carry on practically like Rosewood belonged to me … and yet now I was watching Henry to make sure he didn’t get too uppity. No colored likes to see another colored acting uppity. I reckon it goes to show that even though I was black, I was still more bound to thinking about a person’s skin color than Katie was. And I could tell Emma was looking different at Henry too. If he’d been white, we’d have known where we stood and would have known how to act. But him being colored changed everything.

But one thing we wouldn’t have had to worry about in a million years was Henry getting uppity. He didn’t have an uppity bone in his body. He was completely respectful of Katie, and all the rest of us too. He treated me like I was white and always called me
Miz Mayme
.

When it was ready, we sat down to supper. As we were starting in, Henry looked around at us and said, “Ain’t you fergettin’ somefin?”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But when he bowed his head and closed his eyes, I realized he was wondering why we hadn’t asked God’s blessing. It just hadn’t been something that Katie and I’d got in the habit of doing, I reckon.

“Dear Lawd,” Henry prayed, “we thank you fer yo provishun fer us, an’ fer watchin ober us. Show us what ter do, an’ protect dese dear ones er yers. Amen.”

Aleta was still silent as stone around Henry. When I opened my eyes after he was done praying, she was sitting there staring at him. But if she’d got used to me, I reckon she’d get used to him eventually too.

The rain had started up hard again, but we were happy and warm inside. After supper Henry told us story after story about his boyhood on the Mississippi and had us laughing so hard, even Aleta. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed listening to the old colored uncles tell their stories. We didn’t blow out the lanterns for bed until so late in the night it was probably the next morning.

As much as Katie protested, Henry wouldn’t hear of sleeping in the house.

“You jes’ gib me a blanket er two an’ I’ll be happy as can be in da barn wiff the horses. I’ll fin’ me a dry bed ob straw an’ I’ll sleep like a baby.”

T
HE
S
UN
A
GAIN

11

W
HETHER IT WAS
H
ENRY’S COMING AND
knowing somebody was watching out for us, or just not feeling so alone, as I lay in bed that night I felt more hopeful than I had in days. I drifted off to sleep, listening to the rain on the roof above me, feeling content and happy.

I woke up in the middle of the night. It was pitch dark, but something felt strange. I lay there in the silence wondering what it was. Then suddenly it dawned on me—it was the
silence
. It was absolutely quiet.

The rain had stopped!

Gradually I drifted back to sleep. When I next woke up I was in for a surprise. Sunlight was streaming through the windows! It was so bright and unexpected it almost blinded me when I opened my eyes.

“Katie! Katie!” I cried, jumping out of bed and running to Katie’s room. “The sun’s out. The rain’s stopped!”

A few minutes later, all four of us were standing at one of the upstairs windows looking out. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, which was so brilliant a blue I’d almost forgotten what it looked like. The sun made the brown water stretching out across the fields all the uglier. What was normally mostly green, wherever we looked, had been replaced by brown as far as you could see, until it met the blue of the sky at the horizon.

How could there be so much water? Was this how Noah had felt?

“Let’s go look at the post!” said Aleta excitedly. “I want to see if the water’s gone down.”

“You’ll have to get dressed first,” laughed Katie.

We all scurried back to our rooms and then ran downstairs, got on our galoshes, and hurried outside. We had been watching the level of water on an old fence post in the field past the barn that had a lot of knots on it so we could see the water rising. We had to get boots on to get close enough. Gradually we inched through the water until it was nearly to the top of our boots. We stopped about ten feet from the post.

“The water’s gone
up
since yesterday!” said Katie. “How can it go up when the rain’s stopped?”

Just then we heard a deep chuckle behind us.

“Da flood don’t care ’bout no rain,” said a voice we knew instantly to be Henry’s. We turned and saw him moving toward us in his bare feet with his trouser legs rolled up. “Effen dere’s still water comin’ down from upriver, hit’ll keep risin’, maybe even fer a day er two.”

We turned and all began sloshing back toward the house.

“I still don’t see how that can be, Henry,” said Katie.

“Hit’s jes’ the way rain an’ rivers an’ floods is, Miz Kathleen.” ‘

‘But is the flood over?”

“ ’Peers likely, effen we git no mo rain fer a day er two, an’ dat looks promisin’ wiff dis sun shinin’ out. Once da water gits as high as hit’s gwine git an’ starts back down, dis ol’ flood’ll be gone in no time.”

“Will you wait till then to go back to town, Uncle Henry?” asked Aleta.

“No, chil’,” laughed Henry. “I can’t do dat. Effen you can gib me a good cup er coffee, I’s be on my way. I gots ter git back ter work.”

“We’ll give you breakfast to go with your coffee,” said Katie. “But how will you get back?”

“Same way’s I come—rowin’ out yonder ’cross dat water on da other side ob da house.”

Two hours later, Henry got in the little rowboat and headed out across the flat brown sea.

“But what if the current takes you into the river?” said Katie, still worried about how Henry could possibly navigate what looked like an ocean.

“Don’t you worry none ’bout me, Miz Kathleen. Effen I git too far down an’ da river takes me, den I’ll jes’ point dis yere boat inter dat current an’ ride as fast as hit wants ter go till I can work my way to the udder side. You neber fight a current—you go wiff it till you gets across it.”

Even as he spoke, Henry was moving away from us with great pulls on the two oars, and pretty soon he was heading out into the middle of the water.

“I’ll be seeing you ladies as soon as dis water’s all gone!” he called back to us.

Aleta waved one last time. I looked at her face and saw that she was a little frightened as she watched Henry row out into the middle of the water.

“I don’t want anything to happen to Uncle Henry,” said Aleta.

“He’ll be safe,” I said.

We watched until he was out of sight, then went back into the house.

The sun kept up for two days. By then, like Henry had said, the water had started to recede. It rained a little more on the third day but not enough to do any harm, and then the sun came out for good.

Eventually the water began to subside even more quickly. But it took a week for the river and streams to fall back down to their former courses. And when they did they left a mess of everything.

All the remaining crops were gone. The fields didn’t even look like fields anymore, just brown mud everywhere.

Within two weeks the river and stream were almost back to normal.

And gradually life got back to normal for us too, although I don’t know what normal actually meant. Was anything about Katie’s and my life
normal?
Or would it ever be?

As close as the water had come, Rosewood wasn’t too much the worse for the flood, except for one of the old slave cabins, that is. When the water went down and the surrounding area started to dry up, and Katie and I went on our first walk about, we discovered that the cabin closest to the river wasn’t even there. The flood had taken it, and it was just gone!