Daisy's Search for Freedom

by Bertha Schwartz

  Twice more, they helped her sit up that afternoon. Each time was a little easier.

  The last time, Lucy settled into the chair beside the bed with sewing. Cook’s eyes warned Daisy not to question it.

  A little later, Cook popped her head in, and then quickly turned to leave without speaking to her. Lucy didn’t see her, as she was busy lighting the lamp.

  It was sundown! Daisy realized. Cook was going out to the orchard! Daisy remembered seeing a basket over Cook’s arm. Was it only a trick? Was Mama in danger?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  More Messages

  DAISY SHIVERED UNDER HER BLANKETS, even though it was June and still sultry, in spite of being after sundown. Sundown! The message had instructed Mama to meet someone at sundown in the orchard. Daisy shivered again. Who was waiting for Mama in the orchard?

  “Are you cold?” Lucy asked, looking up from her sewing. “Is it pain?” Lucy rose quickly and put her sewing aside. “Cook left something for you.”

  Daisy shook her head, afraid she’d be asleep when Cook returned. If Cook returned. Daisy shivered again.

  “That does it,” Lucy said, firmly. “You is shakin’ like a leaf. Chloe!” she called. “Bring Daisy some o’ that tea Cook left for her.”

  Chloe soon appeared, carrying a tray. Daisy was relieved to see there were three cups on it. So it probably wasn’t medicated. Chloe poured each of them a cup, and then returned to the kitchen for another chair.

  “Tell us about the Fourth o’ July parade, Daisy,” Chloe coaxed. “I ain’t never been.”

  Daisy resolutely pushed aside the scary parts of the day and started describing it. She tried to think of a way to describe the drums and fireworks. “It were all very noisy. But everyone seemed to think it was all great fun.” She went on to describe the three-legged foot races and sack races. She couldn’t keep from laughing as she remembered Master Clemmons hopping along in a potato sack, even tumbling once. Lucy and Chloe giggled at Daisy’s vivid description.

  “So you’re havin’ a tea party in my room an’ forgot to invite me?” asked a voice from the doorway. Cook shot Daisy a warning look and gave a slight shake of her head.

  “Cook!” exclaimed Lucy and Chloe in unison. Chloe rose hastily, insisting Cook take her seat. “I’ll just get another cup an’ chair.” She returned almost immediately with both.

  “Tell Cook about Master Clemmons’ sack race,” Lucy urged. Daisy was much more relaxed as she retold the tale.

  Daisy was both disappointed and relieved when Cook refused to comment later about her trip to the orchard. She realized the less she knew, the safer it was for everyone.

  The days gradually fell into a pattern. Daisy spent time helping in the kitchen, as she was able. Cook taught Daisy everything she could about cooking, baking, canning, and preserving. Sometimes it seemed Cook felt urgency with her teachings. Daisy longed to write everything down but knew it would be too dangerous. She was not even supposed to be able to read, much less write. Daisy wondered who was doing Miss Annabelle’s school lessons.

  Cook often took Daisy to the gardens or orchard, teaching her how to tell plants apart, when to plant and when to harvest, what could be used in cooking and what was good for healing. Daisy fervently tried to remember everything, always repeating everything out loud and several times to herself.

  Cook spent a lot of time talking to Daisy about Jesus. Those times were Daisy’s favorite. But when Daisy would ask about Papa or one of her sisters or brother, Cook would give her a stern warning look and continue talking as if she had not heard.

  Daisy continued to receive messages, which always made her heart beat rapidly. She always managed to read them, destroy them, and pass them on without mishap. Several were for Cook. Those scared her the most. What if Cook were to suddenly disappear? Daisy didn’t know if she could bear it.

  Daisy never found out what the messages were about and sometimes not even how they arrived. But life seemed to go on as usual. Since Daisy worked in the kitchen and gardens instead of as Miss Annabelle’s personal maid, she seldom saw anyone of the family. Daisy was happy about that. She had always thought of Miss Annabelle as the closest thing she had to a friend, until Independence Day. She shuddered as she remembered Miss Annabelle’s anger.

  One morning, Chloe came bounding into the kitchen. “Guess what! Good news for you, Daisy! Miss Annabelle’s bein’ sent to a boardin’ school. Then she can no longer hurt ya. I need to run ‘cause everything’s in a tither. Miss Annabelle’s in an awful rage. Miz Clemmons got us all sewin’ afore she go. My! My!”

  Daisy looked at Cook as Chloe dashed off again. Cook looked worried, but she continued making breakfast. “That’s one thing we haven’t worked on, is sewin’,” she murmured. “Best I teach you as soon as I can.”

  “You know how to sew?”

  Cook nodded. “Always learn everything you can. You’ll never be sorry.”

  So the days became busier than ever. Every spare minute found every available hand in the sewing room upstairs. Again Cook quietly taught Daisy everything from a straight stitch to fancy seams and ruffles.

  One day, Daisy met the doctor in the hallway. “Let’s see your hand,” he commanded. “Not bad. Not bad,” he murmured, and continued on his way.

  Later, when Daisy reached into her apron pocket for her thimble, she felt a small scrap of paper. Daisy felt tense as she watched for a chance to read and destroy it. Would it be for Cook again? Daisy stole a glance at Cook. She was casually visiting with the other women.

  It seemed like a long time until it was finally time to start the evening meal. Daisy was anxious to leave, but everyone seemed to be taking their time today.

  When they were finally downstairs, Daisy still couldn’t find a chance to read the message unnoticed.

  “Cook,” Daisy heard one of the other girls laughing. “You forgot to take your sewin’ apron off.”

  “Tsk! Tsk!” Cook shook her head smiling. “Guess I’ll just have to take it up tomorrow.” She took it off and hung it on a nail in Daisy’s room. Since Daisy had moved downstairs, a corner had been curtained off for her and a small cot moved in. Daisy wondered why Cook didn’t hang it in her own room, but she didn’t want to embarrass Cook further by mentioning it.

  Cook turned to her. “Daisy, can you get the carrots we washed an’ left on the porch?”

  Daisy gave a quick nod and hurried out to the back porch. As she bent to pick up the bowl of carrots she slipped the note out and read, ‘Daisies and other flowers are beautiful this time of year.’ The message was for her!

  Daisy was so shocked, she dumped the carrots. Hastily she gathered them. She was afraid to finish reading the message. Daisy caught her breath. This might be her only chance! Quickly, she smoothed the crumbled bit of paper and read; “Orchards are too, South winds blowing, east stars shining. Midnight or daylight, all is beauty, dressed for autumn.’ It sounded like poetry but did nothing to calm Daisy’s racing heart.

  Daisy once again picked up the bowl with trembling hands and repeated the message silently. Every third word after the first sentence. Just as Daisy reached the door she picked out every third word of the message. Orchard . . . south . . . east . . . midnight . . . all . . . dressed. Daisy tried to swallow her fear as she opened the door. Cook met her at the door.

  “Oh, dear,” Cook said. “I think you need to rinse them carrots again. I’ll bring water out to you.”

  Daisy gratefully set the bowl down again. Cook returned shortly with a pitcher of water. “Just pray an’ trust Sweet Jesus,” she murmured before hurrying back inside.

  The rest of the afternoon and evening, Cook stayed very close to Daisy. Daisy tried to pretend that all was normal, but she was afraid someone would notice her trembling hand or hear her beating heart. Inwardly, she continued praying, Sweet Jesus! Sweet Jesus! which seemed to be all the words she could form in her thoughts.

  When it was finally time for bed, Daisy remembered that Mama had once told her, ‘If y
ou are ever in trouble an’ can’t find the words to pray, just call on Jesus’ Name. He’ll understand.’ The words brought Daisy comfort now.

  She sank on the cot. What if she just ignored the message? She knew instantly she couldn’t do that. Before she blew out the candle, she again noticed Cook’s apron. What if she never saw Cook . . . Mama again? She lovingly touched the apron, and then stopped. The pockets were bulging! She pulled out some biscuits and cheese! Mama knew about the message! Was she supposed to leave tonight? Daisy sank onto the cot, her legs weak with fear. She didn’t want to leave! She was safe here with Mama, wasn’t she? Daisy swallowed hard to tamp down the fear. She remembered all the stories of runaway slaves who were caught.

  No, Daisy decided. It would be much safer to stay here. She would stay in bed and pretend she never got the message. It was much safer—or was it?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Escape At Midnight

  DAISY TOSSED AND TURNED ON her narrow cot. Was she supposed to leave tonight? She trembled to think about it. She knew what happened to slaves who tried to run away and were caught.

  I don’t want to leave, Daisy decided. I’ve lived here five-and-a-half years. It hasn’t been so bad. And now Mama is here . . . Her thoughts wandered to the rest of the family. . . Rose, Holly, Petunia, and Little Wes. Daisy’s stomach twisted into knots. A long time ago, she had learned not to think about her family. It was the only way she could survive.

  Involuntarily, her thoughts went back to that fateful night—the night she woke up and Papa was gone. Dear, kind Papa. The only man she had ever trusted. Daisy could still hear the men shouting, the dogs barking, and the low wailing of the women in the slave shacks.

  She had never found out if Papa was caught or not, for that very morning the whole family was taken to a slave auction.

  A curtain dropped into place in her mind. She had never been able to think back to that terrible time. Daisy made up her mind. I will not leave tonight, no matter what! Mama is here, and I am safe.

  She awoke suddenly to a gentle hand on her shoulder and one covering her mouth. Daisy’s eyes flew open to encounter Mama’s dark, gentle eyes.

  “Mama, I can’t . . . ” began Daisy, urgently.

  She was suddenly gathered into Mama’s strong arms. “You must!” Mama whispered. “You’re in danger here. Quickly, now!” Mama tied her apron around Daisy, having folded it to fit.

  “What happened to Papa?” asked Daisy, fearfully.

  “Hush,” Mama whispered. “Never talk about him.” She hugged Daisy again. “Lord, keep my little girl safe. Lead her home,” she whispered. “Never forget to pray, Daisy. And know that your Mama is praying, too. Now, go quickly and quietly.” Mama gave her a gentle push.

  Daisy’s breath caught. She had no choice. Daisy closed the screen door behind her, being careful not to let it slam. She ran on tiptoes across the wooden floor boards of the porch. When she reached the grass, wet with dew, she was tempted to run. In bare feet, she walked swiftly to the orchard.

  When she reached the board fence, she turned to look back at Mama. In the moonlight, Daisy saw the silvery sheen of tears streaming down Mama’s face. Mama motioned her to keep going. Daisy turned and ran swiftly along the board fence. Rather than opening the squeaky gate, Daisy scrambled over the fence. She hurried to the southeast corner as the message had instructed. She came out beside the road. Daisy hesitated only a minute before hiding among the grape arbors.

  Daisy tried to still her breathing and her beating heart. It felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She remembered Mama urging her to pray.

  She had just whispered, “Jesus,” when she heard a carriage coming slowly. As the carriage drew nearer, Daisy was poised to run. Then she heard someone softly call her name. Instinct propelled her forward. She was relieved to see that it was Doc’s carriage.

  “I can’t stop here,” he said quietly. “You need to jump in while I’m moving.” He reached for her hand and helped her up. “Good girl,” he said as she climbed on the seat. “Now you need to climb over the seat and get in the back.”

  As Daisy did, she heard a whimper. “See if you can quiet him,” murmured Doc.

  Daisy dimly made out a small form huddled against a back corner of the enclosed carriage. The little boy was crying softly.

  “It’s okay,” Daisy whispered, soothingly. She reached for him, but he shrank back.

  What can I do? Daisy thought frantically. As she lowered her hand, she touched the bumps in her apron pocket. She had an idea! “Would you like a piece of cheese?” she asked, breaking off a small piece and holding out her open hand toward him.

  He snatched it from her and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. “Aww, poor baby, you’re hungry,” murmured Daisy. She broke off a piece of biscuit and watched him wolf it down. He came closer and held out his hand. By the time he’d had enough, he was curled up tightly against Daisy.

  “There are some blankets back there,” said Doc. “You two had better try to get some sleep.”

  Daisy found the blankets and spread them on the floor. As soon as she lay down, the little boy scooted in beside her. Daisy realized Doc was driving fast now.

  When she awoke, sunlight was streaming in from the front of the carriage. Daisy sat up slowly. Doc turned in his seat and smiled, but motioned her to remain silent. He handed her water, two sandwiches, and two peaches.

  As Daisy reached for them, the little boy woke up. Doc motioned them to silence again and urged the horse forward.

  Daisy was glad the boy ate most of his sandwich and part of his peach. Daisy finished his food, not knowing what else to do with it. She longed to ask Doc where he was taking them, but was afraid to make a noise.

  Eventually, Doc stopped the horse again. Daisy watched as he pulled out a bundle. “Change into these clothes and help Davy change also,” he said. Immediately, the carriage started moving again.

  Daisy opened the bundle. She pulled out two pairs of pants and two shirts. She glanced at Doc. He turned at that moment and gave a quick nod. Daisy quickly undid the apron and slipped into the pants. After changing, she helped Davy. She barely had time to slip the leftover food into her pockets before the carriage stopped again.

  This time, Doc told them to come out. As Daisy climbed over the seat, she realized they were in the woods beside a stream. As she stepped down, Doc stopped her. With big scissors, he cut off Daisy’s thick braid.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but your life may depend on this. It will grow back.” He reached back to swing Davy down.

  Doc popped old straw hats on both of them. “You are Sammy and Simon now.” He handed them two fishing poles. “Sammy,” he told Daisy. “Keep hold of Simon’s hand at all times. Davy, if someone asks you what your name is, you say ‘Simon’.”

  At Davy’s solemn nod, Doc knelt in front of him and tenderly wiped away his tears. “You are a very brave boy, and you need to do everything Sammy tells you, all right?” Another nod.

  “Sammy,” Doc continued. “Follow this creek all day. It will take you through a town. But just keep walking. If someone stops you and asks where you’re going, tell them Master Manly said you could go fishing. Don’t give them any information they don’t ask for. Keep following the creek. As you follow the creek, always stay on this side. About sundown, the creek will take you to a big blue house with dark blue shutters. Directly behind the house is a small gray shed. Hide in the bushes until dark. As soon as you can, without being seen, slip into the shed. They will tell you what to do next.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On the Run

  “COME ON, SIMON,” SAID DAISY, reaching for the little boy’s hand. She guessed him to be about four years old. She picked up the two fishing poles Doc had left for them. She felt an urgency to grab little “Simon’s” hand and run. But she forced herself to walk slow enough to accommodate Simon.

  As the morning wore on, Daisy gradually began to relax, calmed by the ever-widening creek bub
bling merrily beside them and the warm sun shining through the leaves of the trees overhead, causing dappled shadows to dance over them.

  Suddenly, Daisy heard noises at a distance. Little Simon’s hand clenched hers tighter. As they rounded a bend, Daisy realized they were on the edge of the town. Daisy hesitated. Doc said to keep walking until sundown.

  “Tired,” whimpered the little boy.

  “Yes,” said Daisy, “and you’re probably hungry too.” She realized it had to be quite a bit past noon. The trees had kept the sun hidden. “Up there is a bridge,” she said. “Why don’t we stop there to eat?”

  They hadn’t settled on the grassy bank beneath the bridge long before Simon’s head began to nod. Daisy tried to coax him to eat a little first but he took only a few bites, and then he fell asleep.

  Daisy was worried. What if she couldn’t get him to wake up to walk the rest of the way with her? He was much too big for her to carry for long. She decided to let him sleep until she finished eating. Maybe she could coax him to eat while they were walking.

  Daisy heard voices coming closer. She quickly gathered everything and turned to wake Simon.

  “Hello, boys,” said a deep voice above them.

  Daisy jumped at the sound and looked up. It was a stranger leaning over the railing of the bridge.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he continued. “Are you catching anything?”

  Daisy took a deep breath and hoped her voice would not betray her fear. “Not much.”

  “Well, it’s a nice day to fish,” said the stranger. “Wish I had time.” Then with a quick nod, he hurried off.

  Daisy gave a sigh of relief. Simon was beginning to wake up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked around fearfully. Daisy thought he was going to cry.

  “It’s a’right,” she said, softly.

  Simon turned trusting eyes toward her. Daisy felt a protectiveness she had never felt before. She was completely responsible for this little boy! She felt overwhelmed. No! Not completely, she reminded herself. Jesus will help me. Feeling a sense of peace, she watched Simon gobble up the biscuit he still held in his hand.