A Perilous Proposal

by Michael Phillips

  Just before Jeremiah arrived in Greens Crossing, Katie had come up with an idea that would keep people from finding out we were alone at Rosewood. We didn’t want people to know we were alone together because of how young we were and what might happen if anyone found out. I called it “Katie’s scheme.” What it meant was that we were trying to pretend that everything was normal at Rosewood, and that it was still functioning like a regular plantation ought to. To do that meant pretending that Katie’s mama was still alive. Rosewood was far enough away from Greens Crossing that nobody in town knew about the massacre that had killed Katie’s family.

  What we figured was that if no one knew we were alone, they wouldn’t come and take us away or hurt us, and that none of Katie’s relatives—she had three uncles we were worried about—would come and take the plantation for themselves and put Katie in a home for people without parents and do something even more awful with me.

  So that was our scheme—to keep secret that we were alone.

  We had just begun Katie’s plan about a week before. In fact, that day when I first met Jeremiah was our first trip to town after Katie’d thought of it. So we were a mite nervous, especially because of a certain nosey shopkeeper named Mrs. Hammond, who also kept the mail and who we were afraid might figure out what we were doing.

  We were nervous about Henry too, because we didn’t know what he might do if he found out either. I thought he’d looked at Katie a little suspicious a time or two. So we were anxious to get out of there after he’d introduced us to Jeremiah. We didn’t want Henry asking too many questions. But as we bounded off on the wagon on our way back to Rosewood, I was thinking about the boy I’d just seen for the first time!

  But now I reckon I should tell you a little more about what Jeremiah was thinking and feeling at the same time, right after he met me and Katie.

  CHANGES

  30

  HENRY AND JEREMIAH WATCHED THE WAGON AS IT bounced down the road, the two girls sitting close together on the seat, heads close, talking.

  “Sumfin mighty strange goin’ on,” Henry muttered.

  Jake wasn’t sure what he meant, but something strange was going on inside him when he looked at that girl called Mayme. As the wagon disappeared from sight, Jake stared after it. But gradually his thoughts returned to the present.

  He had located his father. But it wasn’t at all what he had expected.

  Now he found himself having to do some serious soulsearching. He had thought one thing was true for so long that it was part of him. Could he really believe what his father had told him? Could everything he had always believed about him not have been right at all? After everything his pa told him, Jake was more confused than he’d ever been in his life.

  His father’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Now dat I tol’ you sum ob what happened ter me,” Henry said, “I’d be right pleased ter hear ’bout you, Jeremiah, an’ what happened . . . an’ ’bout yo mama.”

  The words brought Jake back to the present and reminded him of the conflict he was feeling inside. He was not quite ready to tell his father everything. But as they resumed walking along the street, he told Henry a sketchy version of events.

  When Henry heard what his former owner Clarkson had done and what his overseer had said, he was both furious and heartbroken. A righteous indignation rose inside him at the cruelty of such men. How could they toy with a child’s feelings, and then tear his family apart?

  “I’s so sorry, son,” he said in a soft and tender voice. “I wud neber hab said sumfin like dat.”

  For the first time, Henry understood what had happened to him and his wife and his son. Suddenly it all made sense. Clarkson’s motives had only been to get back at him.

  “I loved you and yo mama so much!” Henry blurted out after a minute.

  His own words turned his thoughts again to the woman he had loved. A new stab of pain went through Henry’s heart at the reminder that she was dead.

  “You wuz da apple ob dis father’s eye,” he added. “I’s so sorry you had ter hear a dreadful thing like dat man said. I can’t even imagine da pain ob how dat must hab hurt!”

  Henry’s heart was twisted in knots. And for the son he never expected to see again to lash out in angry accusation as he had a few minutes earlier was almost more than Henry’s tender heart could bear.

  “I tried ter fin’ you after I come back,” Henry went on, his eyes wet with tears. “But dey wudn’t tell me nuthin’. Dat Clarkson, he jes’ laughed at me an’ my tears. I tried everything ter fin’ what had happened ter you an’ yo mama. Den after I got my freedom an’ Beulah tol’ me what she tol’ yo mama, I spent a few years roun’ dere axin’ everywhere an’ travelin’ about, an’ den figgered to come here.”

  The father’s words softened the heart of the son. But inside remained many swirling and conflicting emotions. It was not so easy to suddenly erase a lifetime of memories just because his father now told him they weren’t true. The hurts of those memories for Jeremiah were real enough. The pain had been real, even if the facts causing them hadn’t been. Even hearing the truth didn’t remove the pain from Jeremiah’s heart.

  The first days after that between Henry and Jeremiah were awkward. Gradually they got used to being around each other and were able to talk more freely. The awkwardness was mainly on Jeremiah’s side. For Henry’s father-heart, the years were gone in an instant. He could have taken Jeremiah in his arms and poured out his love as he had so freely done in the years that were now mostly lost to Jeremiah’s memory. But for Jeremiah the years did not so easily fall away.

  Whether Jeremiah’s resentments had been based on a falsehood or on reality hardly mattered. They had been real because the pain of supposed rejection had been real. Jeremiah’s anger was so deeply ingrained by now that its chains were not easy to break. He needed to be freed from them. But the key to that freedom was forgiveness. The fact that those perceptions had been born in his own mind only made it harder for forgiveness to reach into him.

  Slowly Jeremiah and Henry established a new footing for their relationship. But most of the change came because of Henry’s deep love, and the free forgiveness in his heart. But Jeremiah didn’t yet recognize how wrong his own anger toward Henry had been.

  For now that remained something he could not face.

  For the next few weeks, Jeremiah went through a lot of changes, getting used to having a papa and living in one place for the first time in years. He and Henry were having more talks, though it was hard learning to be a father and son again. Jeremiah found himself remembering his many conversations with Micah Duff and wondered where the young soldier was now.

  Eventually Jeremiah moved in with Henry, sharing his father’s two rooms behind the livery stable, but he kept working at Mr. Watson’s mill.

  One morning, Henry asked Jeremiah, “What you doin’ today, son?”

  “Nothin’ much. Mr. Watson don’t need me today.”

  “How ’bout doin’ me a favor?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. He had been looking forward to lying on his pallet most of the morning. His father didn’t seem to notice his apathetic gesture. He stood staring out of the small room’s single window.

  “I been thinkin’ ’bout dem two girls,” Henry began. “Wonderin’ . . .”

  Suddenly Jeremiah didn’t feel quite so lazy. “You talkin’ about those two girls we met a while back? That white girl and colored girl together?” He propped himself up on his elbow.

  “Dat’s right. Miz Kathleen and Miz . . . Now what wuz dat udder girl’s name . . . ?”

  “Mayme,” Jeremiah answered.

  “Dat’s right. Miz Mayme. Reckon you might walk on out to the Clairborne place and check on dem? I kin tell you jes’ how to find it.”

  Jeremiah couldn’t help thinking of his reception at the Dawson place. “I’m jes’ gonna show up at some white man’s place and ax ‘how’do’?”

  “Word is Mr. Clairborne an’ his sons ain’t made it back fr
om de war,” Henry said, “an’ Mistress Clairborne has knowed me fer years.”

  “But not me.”

  “Dat’s all right. You see Mistress Clairborne, you tell her who you is. Effen you see her.”

  “Why you want me ter go?”

  “You ’member dat bridle er ders? Seems ter me it wuz frayin’ an’ ’bout ter break. Don’ want no horse runnin’ loose wiffout a good bit in his mouf. It wud ease my min’ effen you cud check on dat for me. Mebbe eben fix it. Reckon you know how?”

  “I learned some when I rode wiff the army. An’ I seen you do it ’nough times dese last few weeks.”

  “I shore wud feel better effen I knew Mistress Clairborne wuz all right. Ain’t seen her since I don’t know w’en.”

  “Miz Kathleen’s mama, you mean?”

  “Dat’s right. You ax after her, you hear? An’ ef you git no answer ’bout where she is an’ don’t see her wiff yer own eyes, you make sure dose young ladies is all right.”

  Jeremiah wasn’t sure what his father meant about Mistress Clairborne. Truth be known, he didn’t care all that much. What he did care about was an excuse to see Mayme again.

  Jeremiah washed up and put on his best shirt and struck out, following the route his father had described. He walked and walked, wondering at the welcome he might receive at this place called Rosewood. Jeremiah was beginning to think he’d lost his way when the roof of a large house finally came into view. The house was white and two stories tall, with a porch that ran around two sides of it. There were several other smaller buildings and sheds nearby, a smokehouse and a little shed that sat on top of the ice cellar. There was a big barn with stables connected to it and a fenced-in pigpen. Fields stretched out around the house on three sides, woods on the other with a stream running through it. It was a big place. Nicer than the Clarkson place had been. But still, something didn’t seem right. The place looked run-down and it was too quiet. He saw no one about. As Jeremiah reached the house, he began to understand his father’s concern.

  SURPRISE CALLER

  31

  During the time since I’d first seen Jeremiah, I’d gone back to visit my old home at the McSimmons plantation and had seen one of the house slaves there who hadn’t been killed in the massacre, a big loving lady named Josepha. I was relieved to know Josepha was all right, but I was a mite sad to see the old place again and relive memories of my years there. I still missed my family and grieved for them, but I was glad to be living at Rosewood now.

  One day, Katie and me, along with the pretty colored girl named Emma, were all in the kitchen together. When we heard the knock on the door, we all stopped what we’d been doing. Katie and I glanced at each other. We’d been so involved in making cheese at the time that we hadn’t heard anyone coming toward the house.

  Katie looked at me again, then slowly got up and walked to the door. I didn’t know whether we should all run and hide or stay and pretend that nothing was wrong. We’d hardly had any visitors to Rosewood since deciding to pretend Katie’s mama was still alive. We didn’t know how to act or what to do not to give our secret away. It was too late to hide anyway—there we all were messy and with our sleeves rolled up, and there was the figure of whoever it was standing at the kitchen door.

  Slowly Katie opened the door. Standing in front of her was the last person either of us expected to see—the boy we’d met only once before.

  “Afternoon t’ you, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah. “My pa thought dat you might be needin’ dat bridle ob yers fixed so it don’ break on you.”

  Taken by surprise, Katie just stood for a second or two. From where I was on the other side of the room I saw that Jeremiah was holding some leather and tools.

  “Is . . . uh, Miz Mayme here?” he asked.

  I heard the question in his deep voice. I don’t know if Jeremiah saw me or not, but my heart started beating faster the minute he said my name.

  “Mayme,” Katie said, turning her head. “Henry’s son . . . uh, Jeremiah came to mend that broken bridle—would you show him where it is . . . in the barn?”

  I could tell from her voice that she was nervous. I knew she didn’t want anyone, least of all someone who was curious, looking too closely at what was going on inside the kitchen—though Jeremiah was standing right there at the open door. In Katie’s mind I was the logical one to get him away from the house.

  I walked toward the door and stepped past Jeremiah onto the porch. The instant I was outside, Katie shut the door behind me.

  I didn’t look at Jeremiah, but walked down the steps and toward the barn. He followed. I glanced back and saw Katie’s face in the window.

  “Where’s your horse?” I asked.

  “Don’ have one, Miz Mayme,” said Jeremiah. “I walked.”

  “All the way from town?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “That’s a long way.”

  “My pa thought Miz Clairborne mite be needin’ dat bridle. He’s been worried it would break.”

  I thought to myself that I wished Henry showed a little less concern about us!

  “An’ I been wantin’ a chance t’ try ter see Miz Clairborne an’ yersel’ agin,” he added, speaking slowly. Heat rose up the back of my neck. I didn’t say anything and didn’t dare glance over at him.

  “Ain’t too many young folks my age ’bout town,” he said. “Leastways, no coloreds. Now dat we’re free, dey all lef’, I reckon.—Is you free too, Miz Mayme?”

  “What do you mean?” I said. “Of course—don’t you know about whatever it’s called, that proclamation?”

  “I know, but why you still here, den?”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “Why ain’t you lef’?”

  “I’ve got no place to go. This is my home.”

  “Your ma an’ pa here too?”

  “No.”

  “Where are dey?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’ you want ter fin’ dem, now dat ye’re free?” asked Jeremiah.

  “I can’t find them,” I said. I was getting uncomfortable with so many questions, especially about my kin. “I told you—this is my home. I don’t have anyplace else to go. I don’t want to go someplace else.”

  “Mister an’ Mistress Clairborne pay you?” Jeremiah asked.

  The question took me off guard. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ve got all I need,” I said. “I’ve got food and a bed, and . . .”

  I paused briefly.

  “. . . and folks who care about me,” I said.

  “Yep . . . I reckon dat’s mighty important.”

  “And Katie . . . I mean, Miss Clairborne needs me,” I added.

  I don’t know why I was talking so much, but it was easy to talk to Jeremiah. I’d been around plenty of boys of my own color before. But this was different than any situation I’d been in . . . just talking to a black boy my own age. It was different than it would have been back at the colored town when I’d been a slave. If there’d been a black boy like Jeremiah and me standing together, we wouldn’t have been talking. We’d have been standing there keeping our mouths shut while some white man looked us over wondering what kind of babies we’d make together.

  But now we were just two people . . . two free people. Nobody was watching us. Nobody was thinking anything. We could just talk. It felt good.

  “You make it soun’ like you an’ Miz Clairborne’s frien’s,” said Jeremiah.

  “We are,” I said with a little laugh. “What’s so strange about that?”

  “I jest neber thought ob it afore, I reckon.”

  “Miss Katie couldn’t get by without me . . . or me without her either,” I said. “I don’t know what would become of us if we hadn’t—”

  I stopped myself. Feeling comfortable talking to Jeremiah was one thing, but I didn’t want to be the one to give away Katie’s scheme!

  “I mean . . . they . . .” I said, fumbling to correct myself, “—they took me in and helped me, and�
�well, that’s all.”

  Again I stopped. Jeremiah was looking at me funny.

  “What do you mean . . . took you in?” he said. “Weren’t you one ob dere slaves?”

  “Uh . . . yes—that’s what I meant to say. I mean, they let me stay.”

  “Where’s Mister and Mistress Clairborne?” he asked. “My pa wanted me t’ ask dem somethin’ fo him.”

  “Katie’s pa ain’t back from the war.”

  “What about Mistress Clairborne—she in da house? I din’t see nobody but jest two other girls, an one ob dem was colored.”

  “She’s . . . she’s somewhere and it ain’t . . . well, it ain’t none of your business where she is,” I said.

  I turned and led the way into the barn.

  “Here’s that bridle,” I said. “Just fix it and mind your own business.”

  Jeremiah set about his work with the straps of leather and few tools he had. I saw him looking around the barn. I knew he was noticing things.

  I walked outside, more mad at myself than him. I hoped I hadn’t got us into a worse fix. I went back to the kitchen. Katie and the others were waiting for me.

  “I don’t think he’ll be too long,” I said. “We can finish the cheese when he’s gone.”

  Then I went back outside and waited on the porch.

  Five or ten minutes later Jeremiah came out of the barn.

  “Got it mended,” he said. “Reckon I’ll jes’ tell Miz Clairborne.”

  He climbed the steps and knocked on the door again. Katie had been watching and immediately opened it.

  “Bridle’s fixed, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah.

  “Thank you,” said Katie.

  “Anything else you’d like dun aroun’ da place?”