May the Road Rise Up to Meet You: A Novel

by Peter Troy

  Everything starts to falling apart about then. Juss goes to be with the family for dinner, and you’ve got nothing but time and all these memories, the scrapbook kind and the shadows alike, all rushing through your head like they’re fighting over who gets heard most of all. Juss stops by before going up to her room for the night, says she won’t see you ’til prob’ly supper tomorrow ’cause she’s got to be with her cousin and all, but she says Happy Christmas and thanks you for the gloves, and you hug her tight again, thinking this is gonna be the last time for that. There’s nothing much for you to pack except some needles and thread and gloves and socks and such, and you got it all wrapped up in a blanket next to your bed. You moved the bed over some so Cora had to set her cot up by the door, and you can still slip out the window during the night.

  Then Cora comes in carrying a candle that’s just about all gone, and she’s angry as a cuss, more so than usual even. There’s nothing like Christmas in Cora’s world. It’s all just one gray cloud that follows her around ’til she’ll someday stop breathing and won’t have to worry about that cloud anymore. And she’s about the last person in the world you wanna see on this night. You’re not worried that Cora’ll say anything about you running off, ’cause if there’s one thing Cora’s especially good at, it’s pretending like she doesn’t know nothin’ ’bout nothin’, the way she always says it. It ain’t Cora that’s gonna get you found out. No, that’s gonna come sometime tomorrow morning when Juss stops by before they go off to church, or maybe when they get back, or maybe, if her cousin keeps following her around the way she usually does, you won’t get found out ’til the Misses sends for you about the time they sit down for the supper. She always does when there’s a party or any kind of important company so she can say how you made the tablecloth and napkins and the drapes and all, and she can have you speak a little French and take a bow. You don’t like doing that. Gertie wouldn’t like it none, you know for sure, but you can’t tell the Misses that. So it’ll be around supper time the latest when you get found out.

  You told Micah ’bout that hitch in his plan. Told him that the Kittredges were gonna know you were gone long before the morning after Christmas, like he figured. But he said it won’t matter if they find out an hour after you’re gone, just so long as you’ve got time enough to get to that boat and on upriver, ’cause the dogs can’t sniff out which way we go then, and the slave-catchers’ll figure we went south trying to catch up with the Yankee Navy and all. Besides, he said, it’s city streets we’re walkin’ on ’til we get to the river, and no dog alive’s gonna be able to sniff us out, what with all the other smells of horses an dogs doin’ their business all over them. Still, it’s all these things running through your mind when the door opens and a stream of light pours in from the hallway.

  Whachu doin’ settin’ here inna dark like dis, Cora says.

  You roll over and look at her but don’t say anything, not with all the thoughts running around your head.

  Well, Yo’ Majesty ain’ happy wit’ sharin’ her room, huh? she says. You say nothing.

  Well I ain’ no happier’n you, so don’t go gettin’ uppity like you da one bein’ put out. Been wit’ dese folks longer’n you, an I’m the one got’s to stay in yo’ room.

  She puts the candle down on the table between her cot and your bed, arranges the blankets some, and then lays down on it, groaning and cussing under her breath at how uncomfortable it is and how she can’t spend a week in this thing. But she’s off to sleep, breathing heavy inside of ten minutes, and snoring loud enough to wake the Yankee Navy not long after that. And you’ve got nothing but time again, waiting on the twelve bells, then one, with forever in between ’em. You’re getting about as scared as you’ve been since you ran off with Gertie all those years ago, and worse even, because back then Gertie just woke you up in the middle of the night and told you about running off right then. And you wish it could be the same way now, that you didn’t know anything about it and Micah would simply tap on your window and tell you that you were going.

  The memories that hit you over and over now, even if they’re of good things like the parasol Juss gave you, keep getting turned around into bad ones, like remembering where you were standing the day you first saw it and first saw her. It ain’t about how you and Micah are gonna be together now, but how Juss is gonna cry for weeks and months after you’re gone, and how you’ll be the one giving her shadow memories of her own that she’ll always remember when she looks at this parasol, ’cause you know you can’t take it with you. Instead of remembering about how far you and Gertie got that time you ran off, you think only about how you got caught. And just then it doesn’t matter that Micah’s got a good plan, that he’s about the strongest man you’ve ever known and how well he knows that part of the country, or how he says he’s gonna watch out for you all the way there. You know you’re gonna be the one holding him back, getting him caught, just the way you got Gertie caught oversleeping that morning the way you did, even though you knew how tired she was. And besides, it was your fault the two of you hadta run off in the first place, and you got her killed for it. And then the Kittredges go and rescue you from that misery, and here you go repaying them this way, dragging Micah down, getting him caught and sold off or killed, breaking Juss’s heart, making the Misses cry too, ruining their Christmas with the Misses’s brother and his family here special … and all the nice things they said about you too …

  And these are all the thoughts running over and over through your head when the two bells ring, and you feel time start speeding up. You know Micah’s gone by now, left his cabin and is walking somewhere in the woods, on his way here. And everything’s about to change, about to blow up in both your faces, you just know it. And three bells must be getting closer and closer, and you feel the time squeezing the air from your lungs like the memories did before, and the tears are falling off your cheeks before you even know they’re there. Lying there, still as can be, grabbing tight onto your blanket like you’re trying to slow down time, it’s like you can feel those threads in your stitchin’ being sewn without you wanting them to be done. And trying to get hold of the situation, you become desperate.

  Cora, you whisper, and when she doesn’t answer, you roll over toward her and say it again, louder this time, then start to nudging her, not even thinking how crazy it is that you’re doing this.

  Wha? Who dat? she says after a little nudging.

  It’s Mary, you whisper. Yer in my room, rememba?

  Wha? ’Course I knows dat. Whachu doin’ wakin’ me up inna night like dis?

  I gotta talk to you.

  And then you get to telling her about Micah and how you met him at the hospital and all. But you don’t even get to the saying-hello-at-lunchtime part before she’s interrupting, asking what this has to do with her. So you tell her straight off about Micah’s plan and how you’re supposed to go tonight, supposed to go now. And then there’s no chance to do the talking after that, the way she gets to chastising you.

  Why you gonna do dat Chil’? she says, not asking at all, but telling. She hasn’t called you Chil’ in a lotta years, and it sounds better coming from her now than it used to, sorta reminds you of how Gertie used to call you.

  Ainchu got it good here? Cora says. You’s ’bout the best-off colored folk in all Richmon’, an’ you gonna throw dat all away justa run off to them hills an get caught. You better’n dat, runnin’ through the mud an’ snow, dogs chasin’ after ya, tearin’ at the pretty dresses you done gone t’all that trouble makin’ fo’ yo’self.

  It’s like it’s someone else altogether doing the talking. Cora’s words are soft whispers instead of the sharp daggers they usually are, and she sits up a little on the cot while she’s talking. Then she’s on the bed sitting beside you, talking about how she ran off once a long time ago, how she done it with a man, just like you gonna, and how they got caught and he got sold south and she got sold north and how they never seen each other again. And it’s about
as tender as you can ever imagine Cora being, all so confusing now, Cora sounding more and more like Gertie, and making you think back to then, and getting caught and now putting Micah in that same kind of danger, for what, so you wouldn’t hafta go on stealing moments and kisses out backa the store?

  Stolen kisses’re better than none a’tall, you say out loud, but Cora doesn’t know what you’re talking about ’cause you don’t put the rest of the story with it.

  You still got time ta turn dis all aroun’, she says. You go out there’n tell him to go on home same way he come, an’ won’t nobody know any diff’rent in the mornin’.

  And then it’s all too much, the memories, and the hurting Juss, and never seeing Micah again, and how there won’t be any more stolen moments or kisses or anything but a whole lotta time to think of what you lost all over again.

  I can’t go out there, you say to Cora. If I see him, I’ll run off with him, I just know it. And then we’ll get caught, and it’ll be my fault and …

  Gimme dat coat, Cora says, and you stop for just a second, then hand it to her and watch as she puts it on, drapes the hood over her head, and puts on her shoes, too. Then she moves to the window, sliding your bed over enough for her to get out, and still you say nothing, like you’re frozen there sitting on the bed.

  He gonna be at the stables? she asks, and still you can’t talk, so you nod instead. I’m just gonna tell him to g’wan home ’fore dis get any mo’ messier, she says. Come mornin’ nobody know a thing ’bout nothin’, you’ll see.

  She’s out the window, stumbling a little when she hits the ground but catching herself and looking all round the field to see if anybody’s there. You’re by the window watching her, just a little ways from her, when she starts to walking across the field and all the way to the stable. You keep the window wide open, and the cold starts drifting in, and you remember you don’t have your coat on the way you were supposed to. So you roll out the blanket that’s got the socks and gloves wrapped in it, and putting them away is like saying it’s off altogether, but you do it just as three bells start ringing. You’re back at the window in a second and looking for Micah, and it looks like maybe he’s closing in, coming from over across the fields. Then you get to thinking how he’s not gonna just shoo on home the way Cora thinks, and he’ll be at your window in a minute. But that’s when everything gets all turned ’round like none of you ever expected.

  You’re looking out the window and hearing the banging on the front door, and there’s Micah dropping down to the ground outside. The Mista and Misses start to stirring upstairs, and you can hear Bessie calling out like she’s frightened somethin’ terrible, and there’s little bits of light coming through from under the door. Then Cora starts to running back to the window, stops, and you can hear whispers coming from the field, from where Micah’s laying still, calling out to Cora like it’s you. Cora waves two times and starts to running on tippy-toes back to the window now. You can see Micah standing up in the field and calling after her, and your heart’s breaking, right there, shattering into a million pieces, thinking how he’s left out there by himself … because of you.

  Mista Kittredge is shouting from around by the front door, and the Misses is there, and her brother and his misses must be on the landing on top of the stairs. Cora’s at the window now sayin’, Hep me in, hep me in, and you pull her arms through, and she flops on the bed for a second before throwing off your coat and her shoes and stepping quick over to her cot, breathing hard and scared as you ever heard her. But you hang up the coat and put the stitchin’ stuff under your pillow and look out the window, seeing Micah standing there, with his arms opened up a little on each side of him, like he’s saying Mary, why’d you go an’ do that? And your heart is breaking all over again, so much that Cora’s got to get out of her cot to close the window and push you down flat in your bed.

  Bessie opens the door, and she’s got a candle in her hands, the light flickering back and forth because her hands are shaking so.

  Mary? You awake Mary? she whispers from the doorway.

  Mmm-hmm, whatsa matter Bess? you say, wiping tears out of your eyes.

  You gots t’git on up, Mary, she says, still scared. Massa by the front do’ an wansa see ya.

  So you get up, walking past Cora’s cot, where she’s still breathing heavy, and you walk down the hall with Bessie filling you in on everything you already know is happening. By the foyer there’s Mista Kittredge standing with a gas lamp in his hand and his nightclothes on. The Misses’s brother is there too, and his wife and Misses Kittredge and Juss are standing halfway down the stairs. Mista Longley’s just inside the front door, and you can tell without him saying a word that he’s mad as sin. He tells the other white man with him, Mista Hawthorne, who you know is Micah’s overseer, to go out and mind the horses and send in Jeremiah. And you know things’re about as bad as they can be.

  Mary, Mista Kittredge says as irritated as you ever heard him, Mr. Longley tells me that his boy Micah has run off. Do you know anything about this?

  You try to look surprised about it, crinkle your eyes and open your mouth, then shake your head from side to side. Nosuh, you say.

  She’s lying! Mista Longley says, and then a colored man’s coming in through the front door, and Mista Longley’s looking over at him.

  Jeremiah, tell Mr. Kittredge what you saw out behind his store, he says.

  Well, Massa, it’s like I says, I be mindin’ my own binness jus’ thinkin’ ’bout dat filly you sent me t’see—

  Get to it! Mista Longley shouts, and Jeremiah seems a little scared now.

  So’s I walk roun’ down th’alley, an’ I sees Micah an’ that gal kissin’ an’ dey sayin’ ’bout how three bells they fixin’ t’run off.

  Mary, is this true? Mista Kittredge asks you.

  Your eyes go wide, and you shake your head and say, Nosuh! I ain’t been kissin’ no man. You cover your arms over your chest like the very thought of it makes you uncomfortable.

  She’s lyin’, Kittredge, Mista Longley says. For Christ sakes, you can’t trust these niggers any more than …

  There’s a gasp from the Misses’s sister-in-law, who’s a good Christian woman, you been told. And you hear Miss Juss start to crying way up on the landing, and then the Misses steps up to her, and Mista Kittredge gets upset with it all too, jumping in to cut off Mista Longley in the middle of him going on and on about how niggers can’t be trusted.

  I will not have this in my home! Mista Kittredge explodes, and everyone’s upset now. The Misses and Juss and the Misses’s sister-in-law are all crying full out now, and the Misses’s brother sticks his chest out and steps up next to the Mista.

  Listen Kittredge, Mista Longley says, calmer now. Just ask her what Micah said about where he was goin’ when she saw him today.

  Mista Kittredge turns to you, and you start wipin’ some of your tears off your cheeks and say, I ain’t seen Micah since he worked on the shop two months back.

  Sho’ she be forgettin’ dis very aft’noon, Jeremiah says, I sees her standin’ out back—

  Shut your mouth in my home! Mista Kittredge shouts, and that’s the end of Jeremiah sayin’ anything. And then you figure on putting it all to rest.

  Micah mighta been a little sweet on me back then, you say, but I don’t know why anybody’d think I’d go round kissin’ men an’ talkin’ ’bout runnin’ off … seein’ how you an’ the Misses done so much fo’ me? An t’leave Miss Justinia? I don’t know hows I could ever bear it …

  You start to crying, and though you lied and all, the tears are the real thing, what with all the emotions running through you at once. Then Juss comes running down the stairs, and the Misses is following after her, and they’re hugging you soon as they get to the bottom.

  Goodnight Mr. Longley, you hear Mista Kittredge say. And that’s all you hear from the men after that.

  There’s plenty of crying and hugging, and even Mista Kittredge, once he’s chased the men out, gives you a li
ttle hug and says how he doesn’t ever want to think of you running off.

  We’ve been good to you, Mary, yes? he asks, and you start to crying some more and shaking your head yes over and over again.

  Then the Misses’s brother says Happy Christmas, and everybody laughs, and soon you’re all heading back to bed. Only there’s no sleep for you. You’re looking out your window ’til the sun comes up around seven bells, and there’s no sign of Micah.

  The next day is different from any Christmas with the Kittredges you can remember. Juss comes down to your room before they go off to church, then stops by again with the cousins following right behind her when they get back. During the day you eat with the resta the slaves, and they don’t tease you any, don’t seem to know what to say, and you know they all know about what you lost. Cora musta told them. Bessie tells you she heard that Mista Longley got every slave-catcher in town out looking for Micah, and you know he didn’t go home. He’s on the boat, you hope, heading up the James River without you … safe, you hope.

  The Misses calls you in before the dinner, the way you’d expect, and they even drink a toast to you, with Mista Kittredge giving you a glass of wine to toast right along with them. But it’s nothing like it mighta been just one Christmas ago, when you woulda loved such things. Now it’s all confusion and thinking about Micah, and when it’s late evening, you slink back to your room, feeling like it’ll be haunted all your life now. Cora’s already there, and she’s had plenty of wine of her own. She’s softer than normal, not so much as last night, but softer than normal all the same. And she gets to talking about the man she lost and what happened when they ran off, and then she gets mad at you for bringing up the shadows inside her, and it’s like that little window of her heart closes tight all over again.

  You’s a slave jus’ like me an’ dat fool nigga Jer’miah an’ any otha colored folks you sees ’roun dese parts. You got it better’n most all of em. Better’n plenny o’ white folks got it. Soons you accep’ dat be when you learn how t’survive dis here life. An’ dat’s the bes’ you can hope fo’.