The Color of Your Skin Ain't the Color of Your Heart

by Michael Phillips

  "We'll git dem right away, Doc."

  "All right-tell the sheriff he can talk to me about it if he wants, but you saw it, I didn't."

  He climbed into his buggy, took the reins, flicked them a couple of times and called out to his horse, and bounced off toward town.

  Henry came back in and motioned to Jeremiah. They walked toward the barn. Jeremiah opened the barn doors and they began to hitch up one of Katie's wagons. I stepped away from the window. I didn't want to watch them load the two dead men.

  A few minutes later I heard the wagon clattering out of the yard, and Jeremiah walked back inside.

  S SOON AS THE ECHO FROM THE WAGON DIED ,away in the distance, Rosewood became silent as a tomb.

  It felt like a tomb too. In the center of its biggest and nicest room lay a man who was, to all appearances, already dead. And not just any man ... he was my father and Katie's uncle. It was intolerable to remain inside. But where else was there to go? The life had left the place. Yet there was no life anywhere else.

  Eventually Katie woke up. At first she was overjoyed to find out that her uncle was alive. But after I had told her everything, especially what I'd overheard the doctor say, we had a long cry together.

  For the rest of the day we didn't know what to do with ourselves. Every time we went past the parlor we couldn't help glancing into the room where he lay so lifeless and quiet and still. It was awful to look at him, face white, shirt torn away, and a big bandage over his chest with stains of red showing through.

  But we wanted to look. We loved him.

  Somehow the day passed. Henry came back. It helped to do a few chores, and of course the cows and other animals had to be tended to. Listlessly we tried to begin cleaning up the mess of broken glass and other things in the kitchen.

  We fixed some supper and ate in silence.

  "Y'all want me an' Jeremiah ter stay da night in da barn, Miz Kathleen?" Henry asked.

  "If you don't mind, Henry," replied Katie. "At least one of you. I just ... we wouldn't want to be alone if ... you know, if-"

  "We's boll stay," said Henry. "Mr. Guiness an' Mr. Watson, dere biz'ness'll keep, ain't dat right, son?"

  Jeremiah nodded.

  "We be here jes' as long as you wants, Miz Kathleen," he said.

  It got dark. It was a relief to go to bed. Mercifully I managed to sleep.

  It wasn't till the next day that I even thought about the gold again. I came upon Katie out in the yard on her hands and knees trying to pick up what she could from the dirt.

  "There was only a little of it left in the bag, Mayme," she said. "It's all mixed in with the dirt and gravel. All I can get is the bigger pieces."

  Right then the thought of gold made me sick. How could something so lifeless be so powerful as to cause death? Who cared about the gold? Who cared about the bank and the loan and Rosewood?

  What did it matter if they took it all away! Katie and I would have traded the whole plantation and the bag of gold and everything else just to have our father and uncle back.

  He had been right-it wasn't worth anyone's getting killed over. His words from yesterday kept coming back to me over and over, and made me start crying every time I thought of them.

  "It's not worth anyone's getting killed over. We can take care of it. We're a family now ... we don't need gold ... all we need is each other."

  The day brought no change. The doctor came as promised, changed Templeton's dressing, and left again, his face grim. He offered no words of hope, saying only "time will tell," and instructed us to talk to him and wipe his face with a damp cloth in hopes that it might help revive him.

  We did as the doctor said, but every minute Katie and I were desperately hoping he'd wake up, even just for a moment, so that we could tell him we loved him. There's nothing else that seems to matter when a person is dying than that they know you love them.

  Slowly the afternoon passed and another evening came.

  By the following morning, the fearsomeness of his white form in the parlor wasn't so great as at first. We were accustomed to it now and that made it less frightening. Katie and I just wanted to be near him.

  Like the doctor had suggested, we began sitting beside him, sometimes together as we quietly talked, sometimes alone. By that afternoon we were taking turns so that one of us would be with him every minute. Sometimes we just sat, sometimes we spoke softly or sang to him, sometimes we held his limp hand ... sometimes we prayed.

  But the longer it went on, the harder the waiting became, and the less likely it seemed that we would ever have the chance to say to him again what our hearts ached to say.

  N THE MORNING OF THE THIRD DAY, I DOZED off in the chair. I had been sitting with him most of the night. Katie came in and the sound of her steps awakened me.

  "You need some sleep," she said. "I'll sit with him awhile."

  But I didn't feel like sleeping. I went out for a walk.

  Instead of walking toward the woods, I found myself heading along the border of one of the newly planted fields. I walked all the way around the length of the field, and before long was standing at the river. I sat down on the bank overlooking it and watched the water silently moving by. It looked so different now than a few months earlier when it had stretched from here nearly all the way to Rosewood, and just as far on the other side.

  The words of Henry's prayer I had overheard as he knelt over Bilsby's body came back to me.

  "I pray you won' be so muleheaded as you wuz on dis side ob dat ole ribber...."

  Was death like crossing a river, I wondered-a river like this? What was it like to die? What was my father going through right now? Was he aware in some corner of his being of standing on one side of a river and getting ready to step into the water, never to come out in this life again?

  And what would it be like to come out on the other side? Would Jesus be waiting for him?

  Slowly tears filled my eyes.

  "Oh, God," I said softly as I began to weep, "I don't want him to die. I'm sorry if I'm not trusting you to do what's best ... but I can't help it ... I'm not ready to say good-bye to him forever!"

  I was glad I was alone. It felt good just to cry as loud as I needed to without worrying that anybody could hear me.

  So many things filled my mind. Strange as it is to say it since our time together had been so brief, mostly they were thoughts of the man I had always thought of as Mr. Daniels since the first day I laid eyes on him in his ruffled white shirt and moustache and winning smile, and only recently had finally been able to call Papa.

  I thought about what he'd said.

  "I had a few more things that I wanted to say to you."

  As weak as he'd been, he had said what he needed to say, and was now at peace with me. I hoped he was also at peace with my mama, with himself, and with God.

  But I had things to say too ... things I hadn't said yet ... hadn't said when I had the opportunity.

  And now I was afraid it might be too late.

  "Please, God. . ." I said, "please give me another chance. I'm so sorry for the things I said that hurt him before, and for my wrong attitudes. Forgive my anger and selfishness. Please give me a chance to apologize to him, to really say I'm sorry so he knows I mean it, so he knows what a fine man I think he is. Please, God, give me another chance ... don't let him die ... I don't want to lose him now!"

  Again I began to cry.

  For so many years, tears had not come easily to me. I was practical, even stoic. I'd thought of Katie as the tender and emotional one, me as the practical one.

  Now it seemed all I could do was cry! What had become of me? What was going on inside me! Who was this person I'd always thought I knew who now seemed so different, so full of feelings I didn't understand!

  Was this what it was like to stop being a girl and gradually become a woman? Was growing up more than watching your body change, but watching your heart and feelings and thoughts change too?

  Was this what happened when a girl discovered G
od ... when she discovered love ... when she discovered her father ... when she discovered that she was feeling strange new things toward people and herself and life and the future?

  It was so confusing! I had never felt such things before. Now a thousand emotions were tumbling about inside me all at once!

  Gradually my thoughts stilled and my heart quieted.

  Maybe it was fearsome and confusing to grow up, I thought. But there was a part of it that was a little exciting too. Right then the grief and guilt and fear in my heart were so strong I couldn't feel much of anything else. Yet I knew I didn't want to go back either. I didn't want to be the little slave girl again. If pain and grief were part of growing up, maybe I had to learn to face them, and learn from them ... and be strong because of them.

  I sat for a long time staring into the river, not so much thinking anymore how the river was like death but how it was like life`how it kept rolling along and how life kept bringing one new thing after another.

  I don't know how long I'd been sitting there when I heard a sound behind me.

  I turned. It was Jeremiah coming across the field. I stood up and smiled. He walked up the bank.

  "How'd you know where to find me?" I said.

  "I watched you go w'en you lef'."

  Without any more words he took me in his arms. We stood for a minute or two, just stood there quietly. I felt at peace, almost like his embrace was an answer to the turmoil I had been feeling a short time earlier. I don't know why, but I sensed he understood something of what was going on inside me without my needing to say it. It was more than just our both being black. It was deeper than that.

  We sat down together. Jeremiah took my hand and we sat, just staring into the river, neither of us saying a word. With death pressing upon us so close, it was a solemn time.

  Twenty or thirty minutes later, gradually another sound intruded into my ears. I was so content, and starting to get drowsy again, that at first I didn't recognize it as meant for me.

  I kept staring at the water below us, but as the sound gradually got louder and louder, slowly Jeremiah turned his head and glanced back over the fields.

  Someone was running toward us.

  "Mayme ... Mayme!"

  Now I heard it too. I turned and looked back toward the house in the distance.

  It was Katie!

  "Mayme!" she cried, now taking a shortcut from the way I had come and running straight across the field of dirt.

  My heart seized with dread. I feared it had finally happened.

  Jeremiah and I stood and hurried down the embankment.

  "Mayme!" Katie cried again as she got nearer. "Come ... hurry. He's awake!"

  I left Jeremiah's side and ran toward her. I slowed when Katie and I met, but only long enough to make sure that I had heard her right. The look of joy on her face was all the answer I needed!

  I dashed off toward the house, leaving Katie out of breath and hurrying to catch up with me.

  FLEW INTO THE HOUSE AND RAN STRAIGHT FOR the parlor.

  There he was with his eyes open. A little color had returned to his cheeks.

  Emma and Aleta were standing on the other side of the room, a little timid to get too close. They still weren't quite sure whether he was going to die or not.

  "Where've you been, little girl?" he said as I knelt down beside him, a huge smile on my face. "I've been asking everyone where you were."

  His voice was soft and weak, but I detected the hint of a smile on his lips.

  "Oh, Papa!"

  "What's all this-I thought the tears were all done!"

  "Almost!" I laughed-laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm sorry. I was just so afraid. I thought-"

  "That I was going to die? Naw ... I'm not going to die! I told you that you and I were going to have a long talk, and that I was going to take you to Charlotte. And from now on, I intend to be a man who keeps his promises. I told you, I'm not about to lose you now"

  I couldn't help laughing again through my tears. I was so happy!

  "But I am about as thirsty as I've ever been in my life," he said. "How does a man get a drink around here?"

  I jumped up and ran into the kitchen and pumped a glass of water. I ran back so fast I think I spilled half of it on the floor.

  "And help me sit up," he groaned. "I'm sick of lying here."

  I put one arm around his shoulders and tried to ease him up as he struggled forward. But he winced in pain from the effort.

  "Aagh ... ow-it hurts! What happened to me, anyway?"

  "You got shot, Papa," I said. "You got shot saving Katie's life."

  "Did I, now? Well, that sounds mighty heroic! Seems I do remember something about chasing her out of the house when suddenly everything went black."

  "Can you sit up a little more and I'll give you a drink of water."

  With my arm still around him, he managed to lean forward enough for me to get the glass to his lips.

  "Ah, Mary Ann ... that feels good," he said as he sipped at it. I tipped the glass higher until he managed to drink down the whole thing. "I need more. I'm parched!"

  Within minutes all of us were clustered around, all talking at once and trying to help him get comfortable and dashing upstairs for pillows and blankets and running into the kitchen for water and asking what he wanted to eat and scurrying and bustling about in a beehive of chatter and activity.

  How suddenly life had returned to Rosewood!

  "My, oh my," he said, laughing lightly, "I don't know if all this attention is good for me!"

  "It be good fer us, Mr. Daniels!" said Emma. "We all thought you wuz gwine ter die, an' it's been so quiet roun' here I jes' about cudn't stan' dat silence no mo!"

  Emma's words filled the whole room with laughter!

  That evening, after we had gotten him into a new clean shirt of Katie's daddy's, he tried to stand up. But he was too weak and lightheaded to last more than a few seconds. But when he started to eat he quickly began to gain his strength back.

  In another few days he was on his feet on and off throughout the day, though still weak and had to stay in bed a good part of the time. By then he was eating like a horse and drinking gallons of water and coffee and was joking and laughing just like his old self. Dr. Jenkins came back out, changed the dressing and bandage again, and pronounced himself amazed at the rapid recovery, though every time he came we had to go into our pretending again about Katie's mama still being around.

  Katie, now the practical one and acting more and more like the mistress of a plantation every day, was the first to bring up the loan again.

  "Uncle Templeton," she said one day, "Mama's loan is due next week. What are we going to do?"

  "I'll go and see that banker of yours," he said. "I'll tell him everything."

  Katie looked away and he saw the look of hesitation on her face.

  "What is it?"

  "I ... I'm just not sure I want everyone in town to know yet," she said. "I'm still a little nervous about what might happen."

  Her uncle thought a minute.

  "I understand," he said. "By the way, whatever happened to the gold?"

  "It was still just lying out on the ground," answered Katie. "I picked up most of it, though there's some dirt mixed in with it."

  "Three hundred dollars' worth?"

  "I don't know-I think so. Do you want to see?"

  "Let's have a look."

  Katie brought the bag from where she had been keeping it in one of the drawers of the parlor sideboard. Her uncle took it, felt it in his hand, and looked inside.

  "Three hundred dollars easy," he said. "Probably five or six. Tell you what ... I've got a few connections in Charlotte. Let's hitch up your best wagon. I propose that we all go into Charlotte-all five of us-"

  "Dere be six ob us, Mr. Daniels," said Emma. "Don't fergit my William!"

  "Six of us indeed!" he laughed. "I propose, then, that the six of us go into Charlotte. We shall sell the gold there for cash to take care of your mama's
obligation with the bank. And if I might be permitted to borrow twenty or thirty dollars from the proceeds, Kathleen, which I will pay back along with what I owe your mama's cigar box," he added with a wink, "I would like to buy my four young ladies all brand-new dresses!"

  The room erupted in celebrations and shouts of anticipation.

  "But can you, Papa," I said, "can you ride that far?"

  "You keep pouring food into me for another few days and I'll be fit for anything!"

  "And you need a new ruffled shirt, Uncle Templeton," said Katie. "The one you were wearing got too much blood on it. I threw it away."

  "A new shirt it is!"

  He paused and a strange look came over his face.

  "But. . " he added after a moment, "no more ruffled shirts for Templeton Daniels."

  "Why not, Uncle Templeton? I would hardly recognize you in anything else."

  He laughed with delight.

  "The fact is, Kathleen," he said, growing serious again, "I want to put the past behind me, poker and ruffled shirts and running from my responsibilities. I want to make a new beginning ... it will be a new beginning for all of us."

  "Then what kind of shirt will you wear?" I laughed. I couldn't imagine him in anything but fancy clothes either.

  "A good sturdy work shirt, Mary Ann," he said. "If I'm going to become a Shenandoah County farmer and cotton grower, I have to look like one. And just maybe we'll get a pair of work trousers and boots to go with the work shirt.What do you think, Kathleen?" he added, glancing toward Katie. "May I borrow enough for that too?"

  "There wouldn't be anything if it weren't for you, Uncle Templeton. You saved Rosewood. It's yours just as much as it is mine. It's all of ours together."

  "Thank you, Kathleen. And our being together ... that's all we need, if you ask me."