“My name is Maizie Sunday Freedman.” The white woman sat even straighter in her chair. “I do believe I was born here near a church in Vicksburg. That’s what my mama told me.” That was all Maizie said. She looked at Meadowlark apologetically, but she could say no more. Her emotions were surfacing, she could feel her throat tightening. Meadowlark noticed and stepped to Maizie’s side. “We’re going to play our best for you. You ready?” he yelled. The crowd sent back a resounding roar and the concert began. “Just do your best. Knock ’em out, Maizie,” Meadow said.
The final program, as expected, was the best of the three. The large crowd, standing room only, was emotionally engaged with each song. From the delta blues favorite “Mama Don’t Allow No Easy Riders Here” to Maizie’s interpretation of “I Got a Right to Sing the Blues,” the musicians connected with the crowd. Slick’s antics with his saxophones were great entertainment, and the fast and furious “Rock Island Line” nearly brought the house down.
Then it was time for Maizie and Meadowlark to sing “Up a Lazy River.” Before they began Meadowlark said, “You got something you’d like to say about this song, Maizie?”
Maizie looked out into the audience and could sense they were waiting for her to speak. “I think about my mama when I sing this song. Up a river is how she left Vicksburg, we think. It’s nice to think about the two of us walking up a lazy river under blue skies. I’m not sure that was the way it was, but like I said, it’s nice to think about.” And then they sang together, Meadowlark and Maizie, pathos in every note.
The white woman near the front watched Maizie’s every move and listened intently to every note. Tears fell from her eyes.
During the final number, the spiritual “Joshua Fit de Battle of Jericho,” the concert goers jumped to their feet and sang along, clapping rhythmically. At the conclusion a loud cheer went up in the hall. Meadowlark, Slick, and Maizie all took their turns bowing as the now standing ovation continued.
The white woman, smiling broadly, waited near the front of the hall as the crowd filed out the door. When the crowd had gone and all the fans offering praise to the performers had dissipated, the woman in the green dress came forward. She stopped just in front of Maizie. She took a long, slow look into Maizie’s distinctive blue eyes. “Maizie Freedman, I’m Millie Camden. Your mama was my best friend.”
Chapter 90
A Troubling Tale
"She was?” asked Maizie. “I mean, what makes you think that?” The tone and volume of Maizie’s voice alarmed Sugar, and she stepped toward Maizie.
The woman in the green dress responded, “Vicksburg ain’t that big a place. I know you’re Caroline’s child. I know it ’cause of your last name, your looks, and the fact you was born near a church.” Millie Camden’s smile turned into a solemn, tight line, but her eyes exuded warmth and caring.
“Caroline,” Maizie said quietly.
“Only first name I know she had.”
“I called her Mama, of course, but yes, Caroline was her name. She told me that.”
“Why, it is so good to meet you. What is Caroline doin’ now?”
“She’s dead. A few years ago,” Maizie answered, disbelief still registering on her face.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you have time? Maybe we could talk a bit?” said Millie. Sugar tapped Maizie on her arm and nodded, giving her permission to talk with the stranger. Maizie and Millie found seats in the fellowship hall while Meadowlark and Sugar gave them privacy.
“Could you tell me about my mama? About when she was here in Vicksburg, I mean.”
“Ain’t a pretty story, dear.”
“I need to know. Need to put my mind to rest about it all,” said Maizie. “You see my mama told me stories. I just want to know what’s true.”
“Caroline was sure good at tellin’ a story. Think her wild tales helped her survive.” Millie paused, looking closely at Maizie. She reached for Maizie’s hand as she continued: “You don’t have your mama’s auburn hair. I used to wish I had hair as pretty as your mama’s. But you sure got her eyes.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, deep blue ones. Gorgeous.” Maizie looked down at her hands, and then, raising her head she waited for more.
“Your mama was from a clan of cotton growers. They were very successful before the Civil War. People still talk about how much money they made selling cotton to indigo dyers in South Carolina and of course, Europe. But times changed after the war. The slaves on cotton farms were declared free. Caroline’s ancestors asked their slaves to stay on as freemen. Your great great-granddaddy was a cotton farmer, and kind. He paid them a wage and let them live on the farm.”
“So my mother’s relatives were nice people?”
“Well, most were, but back then many a family was divided. Some thought the slaves should be free, but others did not. Your great-granddaddy inherited the cotton business as a young man. He kept to his daddy’s ways and paid his workers a wage and provided housing and food.” Millie paused and took a deep breath before she continued. “But some in the family hated the ‘freedmen.’ The family had been split between abolitionists and committed slave owners before the war, but after the war, well then it got even worse. Some joined the Red Shirts, a militia of white racists. And they attacked your great-granddaddy’s cotton farm and killed the freed workers who lived and worked there.”
Maizie sat still. Her eyes widened as she looked for Sugar and Meadow. The church, now empty except for her two friends, offered an eerie silence, the room lit by a few ceiling fixtures that cast large and foreboding shadows. Sugar smiled gently and waved.
“I know this is not a nice story to hear. Do you want me to go on?” Millie asked.
Maizie nodded, rubbing her neck and shoulder.
“Story says, your great-granddaddy escaped, traveling north. Took a colored woman with him. Some even said she was having his baby.”
“A baby? A mixed-race child?”
“That’s what some says.”
Maizie felt her eyes well with tears. “A child like me?”
“Could be. But no one knows for sure. You see this is a story that has been told many times. Became legend.”
“To me, it’s a secret, Millie. Just another secret.”
“It shouldn’t be. Only if we know about our history can we fix mistakes we made.”
Maizie looked up at her mother’s friend, ready to accept whatever she would hear. “Go on, please.”
Millie nodded. “Your great-granddaddy managed to take all the family’s gold and silver, leaving his relatives angry. The family didn’t have it too good after that. They tried to make the best of the abandoned cotton fields, but without much success. Some of them stayed in Mississippi and grew to hate your great-granddaddy and what he had done.”
“My mama never told me.”
“Your mama carried that story in her heart, always. She told me over and over again when we were children. Seemed she was proud of your great-granddaddy, no matter what the rest of the family said. Freedmen having rights, she believed in that with all her heart and soul. Talked about it often. Somehow I think that is why she left and traveled north. She was looking for the part of her family that was thinkin’ like her.
“I wish she would’ve told me.”
“I can only think she thought it would hurt you in some way to know. Hate is a terrible thing and those Red Shirts were full of hateful thoughts. They felt their lives and livelihoods had been taken away by the freeing of the slaves.”
“Yeah, I met people like that. Even now some folks feel that way.”
“I can only imagine,” Millie said as she took Maizie’s hand in hers. “Your mama’s life was as hard as anyone’s in Vicksburg, colored or white. And yet, she believed in the good in people. ”
“What made her life so hard?”
“This is the part of the st
ory I know really well. Caroline hardly ever went to school. Her parents had died of the fever and she lived with an aunt who had her doing chores all the time. Even had her workin’ at other people’s houses instead of going to school. She was earning money for food. Her uncle didn’t care for colored folks. He was a Confederate drunk. He’d get himself into a rage, talking about the freemen.” Millie paused for a moment, waiting.
Maizie just looked into Millie’s eyes, asking for more. Encouraged, Millie returned to her storytelling.
“Now Gabriel Freedman, your daddy…”
“Gabriel?”
“Yes, that was his name. We’d call him Gabe. I think she took to watchin’ him sing on the street and his singing made her feel better. Listening to him was like listening to songbirds in the trees or sweet water fallin’ over rocks. He was somethin’. And she fell in love with him when she was fourteen years old. Why he was maybe only eighteen. They’s just children really. They took to spendin’ more and more time together, sneaking around in the dark. Caroline would wait until her aunt and uncle were asleep or passed out from drink. It was dangerous for Gabe and Caroline to be together, so hiding was what they did. They come to love each other, and lovin’ each other was a crime.”
“A crime?”
Millie reached for Maizie, rubbing the young girl’s upper arm. “It’s still that way, Maizie, I am ashamed to say. Still a crime for a colored man to love a white woman or a white man to love a colored woman. That’s just how it is.”
“Doesn’t seem right,” Maizie said, looking across the light and shadows of the fellowship hall and thinking of Capp, his beautiful smile, his sun-bleached hair, his attitude toward bigotry. In that moment her heart ached for him.
“I remember when it was Gabe’s birthday. She wanted to give him a gift. I had a pillowcase I was savin’ for when I got married. I embroidered Gabe’s initials on it and told her she could give it to him. She was so excited, but that’s when all the trouble got worse. Her uncle found the embroidered pillowcase in her room and asked her what the initials GF stood for. She wouldn’t tell him. He grabbed her and he noticed she was going to have a baby. He held her down until she told him it was Gabe. He gathered four men and they went and lynched the poor boy. People who loved Gabe recovered his body and buried him near the church where he sang on Sundays. The people here missed Gabe’s voice lifting their souls.”
Millie stopped for a moment and then said, “Then time passed and people forgot, I guess.”
“You mean people didn’t keep my daddy in their hearts? They don’t miss him anymore?”
Millie looked at Maizie, nodding. “You could say that. You can imagine how terrified your mama was after Gabe was hanged. She ran away. Someone told her about a nice old man who needed help. He didn’t have much—just a shack near a creek, but he was gone a lot, tendin’ to barges on the Mississippi River and needed help with his house and garden. Caroline went to stay in his house, which was on stilts. When I heard, my daddy started taking me out there. I would bring her things ’cause she needed everything. She was so grateful. But there is more to the story.”
“A happier story?”
“No, not really, dear. Now you know I could have some of it wrong, but here is what Caroline told me those times I visited.”
“There was a map on the wall in the house. Your mama would show me how she planned to get north. She said life would be better there for you. You wasn’t much colored at all and you had blue eyes, but there were those who would make it hard, she said. Your mama started doing tricks to raise the money. The men came from the river docks when the old man was riding the barges.”
“My mama did that when we traveled. She called ’em small favors.”
“Your mama was tryin’ to get money together is all. The dream of runnin’ north was strong in her.”
“There was one of those men who got to thinkin’ Caroline was his woman. I forgot his name. Your mama was afraid of him, so she left the house on the stilts. No one knows for sure where she went. She never wrote me, but your mama wasn’t good with the written word.”
Maizie felt an overwhelming sense of love for her mother.
“You were so little when I last saw you. You’d sit on my lap and Caroline would tell us a wild tale. Lots of magic in those tales,” said Millie.
“Yeah, I remember those tales. She’d hold me tight and tell me the most interesting things. That map you mentioned was in her things, the pillowcase too. I’d never seen them until she died.”
“She still had that pillowcase? She never got to give it to Gabe, I guess.” Millie sighed. “Now you tell me, Maizie girl, how did Caroline die?”
“She got sick with an infection. It was her appendix. Died in Springfield, Missouri, at a shelter.”
“So she made it to Springfield?” Millie beamed with pride. “My, my.”
“Yes, why?”
“She always said Springfield was a better place.”
“Well, the ranch where I live is a better place. I feel at home there. Protected.”
“Maybe that ranch was what your mama was lookin’ for. But she never found it.”
Maizie sat still, nodding.
“Don’t be sad, Maizie,” Millie said as she gently lifted Maizie’s chin and smiled at her. “A look into your Del Henny blue eyes tells me your mama has passed on her strength and determination to you.”
“What?” Maizie’s breath stalled.
“I said I can see your mama’s strength in your eyes.”
“No, the name. What was the name of my mama’s family?”
“Del Henny. Why?”
Maizie gasped. Her blue eyes filled with tears. “And the man who went north? Was it Buckus Del Henny?”
“Yes, that was it. Who could forget a name like that?”
Chapter 91
Touring Vicksburg
The next day Millie met Maizie, Sugar, and Meadowlark at the church for a tour. Maizie had asked if she could see where she lived with her mother in Vicksburg and where her daddy was buried. Millie complied and offered to drive Maizie and her friends wherever they wanted to go. As the friends climbed into the car, Millie remarked, “This ol’ car don’t look like much and sounds like a thresher, but it will get us there.”
The road to the little house with stilts was rutted from the winter rains and made the ride bumpy in Millie’s old car. Millie attempted to avoid the deep ruts as best she could. “Feels like I’m ridin’ a trottin’ horse, but I do believe a horse is a bit more comfortable,” Sugar teased. Maizie smiled, knowing exactly what Sugar was talking about.
Meadowlark had little experience with horses and preferred it that way. “Now Sugar girl, do you ride horses at the ranch?” he questioned.
“More likely me than you. I love ridin’. Done it ever since I met those Wembleys. Not too much lately.”
“Well, you better get at it ’fore you get too old, Sugar.”
“Now who you callin’ old, ol’ man?” said Sugar, grinning.
“Well, forgive me for being impolite to a lady. You relax. I bet they have an old nag at the barn that you could ride,” chided Meadowlark.
Millie pulled to the side of the road near a trailhead heading east, and the horse debate abruptly ended. After walking for about twenty minutes, the three saw through the trees a rundown shack on stilts about one hundred yards to the right of the trail. A small footpath meandered to the hovel’s front steps.
“We’ll stay right here in case there is anyone holed up in the place,” said Millie.
Maizie stood with her mouth agape. All waited for her to say something, but she remained silent. “Honey, you okay?” said Sugar. “Come, let’s sit down on this log.”
“It’s all right. I’ve seen this place over and over again in my nightmares—the house on stilts. My mama drew a house like this on the map. I had dreams about be
ing in the house when bad things happened. There was a faceless man. There was a river that flooded, but I don’t see that. And animals.”
“Maizie, look just beyond the house. There’s a good-sized creek there. It flooded every time it rained hard. That’s why this house is on stilts. It’s a tiny house with one bedroom. The ol’ man slept on a cot when he was home. He gave you and your mama his bedroom. He was a decent sort,” explained Millie. “What about the man in your dreams?”
“He was scary. My mama and I would run from him. It was mostly at night we were running,” replied Maizie.
“I hope I didn’t do wrong bringin’ you here,” said Millie.
“No, just hard to see this place outside my nightmares,” said Maizie.
Millie, Sugar, and Meadowlark walked with Maizie slowly back to the car, enjoying the beauty and the nice spring day, but Maizie was clearly shaken. She remained silent in the car as they headed back to Vicksburg to continue their tour.
Millie maneuvered the car carefully up a busy street and pulled up to a steepled church. Keeping the car running, she said, “This is the Baptist church where your daddy sang. Folks would come from all over to hear him. Some thought he was an angel. The fact his name was Gabriel convinced them, I think,” said Millie, smiling. “Would you like to go inside?”
Maizie looked around, imagining her daddy walking on these streets, going into this church. The thought gave her comfort. She could picture him in her mind. Young, strong, handsome, with skin slightly darker than her own. “Yes, please. I’d like to go inside,” she said, finding her strength again. As the group stood on the path leading to the church’s door, they could hear a choir singing in the sanctuary. Millie led the way. Walking through the door, Maizie held on to Sugar’s arm. Meadowlark followed. They all took seats in the back pew and gave Maizie a few minutes to observe, to imagine.
Through Tender Thorns Page 31
