It wasn’t till Emma and William were again asleep for the night that I finally got up the courage to tell Katie about that morning in the woods. Maybe courage is the wrong word. But sometimes it’s hard to talk about personal things even to the people you love the most. At least for me it’s hard.
When we were alone together, Katie must have noticed that I was being quiet. I could see she was nervous. She probably thought I was fixing to leave again. So I told her about getting up early and going out to her special place in the woods and about praying that God would tell me what I should do.
‘‘And what did He tell you?’’ asked Katie, like it was nothing out of the ordinary to talk to God.
‘‘I’m pretty sure He said that He wants me to stay,’’ I answered.
‘‘Oh, Mayme!’’ Katie exclaimed. ‘‘Do you mean it—does that mean you’re going to stay?’’
‘‘I reckon it does, Miss Katie,’’ I said. ‘‘I think I’m supposed to . . . I think God wants me to.’’
‘‘And you’ll help me get the plantation running like everything’s normal!’’
‘‘I reckon so,’’ I nodded with a smile.
Katie was practically jumping up and down on her bed with delight, and I couldn’t help but laugh to see her so happy.
‘‘What will we do first, Mayme?’’ she said. ‘‘We’ll have to start making changes right away. I know we can do it!’’
‘‘But do you realize what it will mean?’’ I said, my practical side coming back now that the decision had been made. ‘‘We will have to get the plantation working again, crops and animals, and go into town and buy things and do whatever your mama and her men were doing before, but without anyone ever noticing anything’s different.’’
‘‘Yes . . . yes—I can do it, Mayme!’’
‘‘What if we ain’t strong enough for something? What would we do when people came to visit and wanted to see your mama?’’
‘‘Just like we did before, Mayme!’’
‘‘But sooner or later people are going to get more and more suspicious,’’ I went on. ‘‘And what will we do about the crops? Right now all the corn and cotton that your mama’s slaves planted earlier, it’s all growing. What will we do with it come fall? How are two young girls like us, especially if we’re trying to take care of Emma and William at the same time, how are we gonna run a plantation, Miss Katie? It ain’t just the fields and crops, it’s the smoking and the gardens and butchering and the fencing and buying things.’’
‘‘But we don’t need to do everything, Mayme,’’ insisted Katie. It seemed nothing could dampen her enthusiasm. ‘‘There’s only four of us, and all we have to do is make sure we have enough to eat. And one of them’s going to need only his mother’s milk for a while.’’
‘‘Maybe that’s all we need to get by,’’ I said. ‘‘But we’d have to do a lot more to make the place look alive enough so that folks don’t get suspicious.’’
‘‘We fooled those three men, didn’t we?’’
Slowly I started grinning.
‘‘Just think,’’ I said, ‘‘—two girls, one colored and one white—putting some kind of hornswoggle like this over on everybody!’’
Katie laughed with delight.
‘‘Yes . . . yes! We’ll start tomorrow, Mayme,’’ she said. ‘‘Let’s at least see if we can figure out what to do.’’
‘‘All right,’’ I said, smiling. ‘‘It’s worth thinking about some more.’’
‘‘Oh, thank you, Mayme!’’
She jumped over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
‘‘All right, then,’’ I said, climbing into the bed, ‘‘if we’re gonna get to planning out this scheme of yours of trying to run a plantation, Miss Katie, I reckon we’d better get some sleep in what time we got left before morning.’’
She got into bed beside me. It was the first time we’d slept together in a while and it made me feel warm inside.
‘‘Good night, Miss Katie,’’ I said.
‘‘Good night.’’
She paused and looked over at me.
‘‘Thank you for staying, Mayme,’’ she said. ‘‘I love you.’’
Had she really just said what I thought I’d heard?
I felt my eyes getting all misty.
‘‘I love you too, Miss Katie,’’ I said.
When I woke up in the morning, the sun was already coming through the window. Whatever little William had been up to during the night, I’d slept right through it. And Katie wasn’t next to me any longer.
I didn’t know how long I’d slept in, but there was definitely a change about the place already!
I heard baby noises downstairs, with Emma talking to her little boy in a soft, high voice and sounding better than she had all the day before. She must have been getting some of her strength back. I wondered if it had occurred to her yet, like it had the first time for me, that she was sleeping in a white man’s home. We’d found out that she’d been a house slave before running away, so maybe she was a little more used to nice things than a field slave like me had been.
Downstairs in the kitchen I heard Katie singing! I couldn’t tell if it was some piece from that man Mozart or one of the colored songs I’d taught her. But one thing was certain—it sounded happy.
I dressed and went downstairs.
She had a nice fire going and was busy at the cook stove.
‘‘Good morning, Miss Katie,’’ I said as I walked in.
‘‘Good morning, Mayme!’’
‘‘What are you doing?’’ I asked.
‘‘I thought, if I’m going to be doing what my mama does—did—around here,’’ she said, ‘‘that I better get up early and start to work. I think Emma’s going to be able to eat some regular food today, and I’m hungry too!’’
I rolled up my sleeves and walked across the floor to help her with the breakfast makings.
‘‘Yep,’’ I said, ‘‘I reckon now our work really begins.’’
It was quiet a few seconds.
‘‘Oh, Mayme,’’ Katie exclaimed, setting down the big wooden spoon in her hand and looking at me with a wonderful smile. ‘‘It feels like there’s hope again that things are going to be all right!’’
‘‘Maybe you’re right,’’ I nodded. ‘‘I reckon there’s someone watching over us after all.’’
EPILOGUE
AWEEK LATER A WAGON HEADED INTO Greens Crossing. Two young women sat on the seat. The white girl who was driving the team wore a pale green-and-white frock, gloves and bonnet, and looked every bit the aristocratic young lady. The other, who was taller and plainly attired as a slave, wore a simple blue chambray work dress and straw hat. But whatever the differences in the color of their skin, they seemed to be having a good time, singing and laughing as they neared the town.
The wagon was far larger than what was needed for transportation alone. The two clearly had come with the intent of picking up supplies for one of the nearby plantations.
No one in Greens Crossing suspected the secret that this black girl and white girl shared—especially the secret back in the house at Rosewood.
They had to find out if they could keep it that way. If they could get past the watchful eye of the town busybody, Mrs. Elfrida Hammond at the general store and post office, they could fool anyone.
That would be their first stop.
To share your thoughts with the author,
to receive a complete listing of his books,
or to inquire about
LEBEN
a periodical featuring writings,
reviews, articles, reader letters, and devotional
thoughts from Michael Phillips,
as well as writings and essays concerning the work of
George MacDonald and his legacy, please contact:
Michael Phillips
LEBENSHAUS INSTITUTE
P.O. Box 7003
Eureka, CA 95502
r /> Phillips, Michael, Angels Watching Over Me (Shenandoah Sisters Book #1)
Angels Watching Over Me (Shenandoah Sisters Book #1) Page 21
