Leaving Uncle Tom's Cabin (Burning Uncle Tom's Cabin Book 2)
Page 14
He remembered that Jim couldn’t work because of him. And that Eliza was with child. And that they were both counting on him.
Yes, he realized. He could get by without caring what this man thought. He could live with the idea that he was doing a job and that the man was paying for it. For the first time, he could walk away from this fight with his pride intact, the bigger man. The better man.
But that didn’t mean he would forget what this man had done. And George promised himself that if an opportunity arose in the future to pay him back, he would take it.
30
George finished cleaning and scurried back into the kitchen, his face burning at having had to be a part of the scene—cleaning up a mess intentionally made by a man who had done it only to embarrass him! His original instincts had been right; this man wasn’t any better than the slave traders or owners in Kentucky. Why, he’d gone out of his way to embarrass George, and for no good reason except perhaps his own wounded pride at having been turned down!
As he dumped the broken glass into the waste bin, he shook his head. No, he was better off not working for that man. In fact, he hoped never to see him again. Still, he wondered whether this would be his new life—keeping his eyes down while he served the white folk who could afford to eat in this establishment, sweeping the floor after they left, and cleaning up the messes they left on the table. Was this all life would ever give him? This menial labor, with no higher calling and no challenge? Was he truly meant for nothing better than this?
For the first time, he began to doubt his mission. If he’d come all this way to lead nothing more than a life of servitude, he didn’t think he could stand it. And with the long hours and tiresome work, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the time or energy left when he got home to continue work on any of his projects. If he stayed here, his life would become a never-ending circle of drudgery. He just didn’t think he could do it. There was only one answer: He would stay here only as long as he could stand it. He would continue to look for a better position and would spend at least an hour every day trying to think of a new invention. Even if he had to force himself to do it.
When he walked back out into the seating area, he was newly shocked to see Mr. White, the machinist, sitting at one of the tables in the corner. George whirled around and went back into the kitchen. He didn’t want another confrontation, and he was sure there were dishes that needed washing. As he made his way to the sink, already spotting several plates and forks that did, indeed, need cleaning, he heard the door behind him open and close, and then he heard a voice he recognized.
“I saw what you did there, boy, and I’m proud of you,” Mr. White said.
George turned slowly, his face burning, and looked at the man who had fired him for having a quick temper and speaking out of turn. “Nothing to be proud of, Mr. White. It’s a lesson I should have learned a long time ago, I suppose—how to let people’s beliefs go, before they did any damage to me. It’s what I should have done that day in your shop. I just never knew it until my wife put it into words I understood.”
Mr. White smiled. “Wives are good at doing that, aren’t they?”
George turned back to his dishes, smiling as well. “That they are. And mine is uncommonly smart. Just never appreciated it before. Guess I’ve been so caught up in my own pride that I didn’t stop to think anyone else could have pride as well—or anything else, for that matter.”
Mr. White leaned up against the sink and crossed his arms. “It’s an easy mistake to make. We get so caught up in ourselves that we forget the rest of the world is out there, and that it must continue to exist despite what we’re thinking or feeling. Seems you’ve learned some valuable lessons since I last saw you.”
George grew sober and nodded. “Learned them the hard way, unfortunately. And that’s got me stuck here, washing dishes and sweeping floors, when I could be doing so much more. I could invent a machine to wash these dishes, but not without the proper equipment and tools.”
There was a long pause, and then Mr. White asked, “You think you could invent a machine that would do this?”
George laughed. “’Course I could, sir. But no one would want it, because I can’t build it. Don’t have a shop.”
Suddenly Mr. White grabbed the towel out of George’s hands and slapped it down on the counter. “Then a shop you shall have, my boy. If you have an idea for a machine that could wash these dishes, it could make you a fortune. And I’ve got just the place to do it. What say you? Would you like your job back? It’s yours, if you think we can build such a machine.”
George stared at him. He’d never seen Mr. White so excited. The man’s face was fairly glowing with inspiration. “You’re offering me my job back?” George asked hesitantly. “You’ll let me create machines? Build them?”
Mr. White grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. “If you can do what I think you can, George, I think it would be a shame to waste it. Now what do you say?”
George opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to think properly. Mr. White was offering him his dream—to work in a shop, to create machines, to invent. But at what cost? Could he make himself go back to the place where he’d met that woman? What if he met more like her? What if she came in again and accused him, once again, of being a thief?
He would ignore her, he realized suddenly. For she could think what she wanted, but he knew the truth, and he was no thief. He was an inventor, and he would be there as an inventor. As an equal.
“It’s a deal,” he said, sticking out his hand and grinning as Mr. White shook it. “I’ll help you create such a machine, Mr. White, and after that we’ll create anything else we can think of!”
Mr. White laughed and whirled around, calling out for George to follow him back to the shop. George strolled after him, his mind whirring from one idea to the next as he tried desperately to figure out exactly how he was going to create such a machine. Because now that he’d promised it, he knew he couldn’t afford to fail.
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Also by the Authors
Other Books in the Burning Uncle Tom’s Cabin Series
www.BrightSons.com/BUTCSeries
Other Books by Carl Waters
www.BrightSons.com/Carl
Other Books by Kalvin Chinyere, MD, MBA
www.BrightSons.com/Kal
Carl Waters
Carl Waters, born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, grew up reading comic books and dreamed of being a new kind of superhero. Waters never forgot his childhood dreams, which over the years transformed into a desire to create new heroes, particularly African-American male heroes, through writing.
Kalvin C. Chinyere, MD, MBA
Kalvin Chinedu Chinyere, fondly known as Dr. Kal, was born in Miami, Florida, to immigrant parents. His Jamaican mother and Nigerian father raised him in Miami and in Queens, New York.
Dr. Kal started high school at the Bronx High School of Science in New York, then graduated from Miami Northwestern Senior High School in Florida. He later attended the University of Miami, where he became a brother of Omega Psi Phi Fraternity, Inc. and received both his Bachelor of Science and Doctor of Medicine degrees. Dr. Kal then received his Master of Business Administration from Emory University's Goizueta School of Business.
Dr. Kal
lives in Atlanta, Georgia, where he's a full-time Internal Medicine physician. He is also the father of the most beautiful little girl to ever walk the face of this planet.
In his spare time, Dr. Kal started Bright Sons Media, LLC. He and his company are dedicated to creating media that accurately portrays African-Americans by removing the negative images and false stereotypes found throughout mainstream media.
Bright Sons' first release was the novel, Burning Uncle Tom's Cabin, which reimagines Harriet Beecher Stowe's classic tale. Their most recent project is Black to the Future, with the goal of increasing all forms of wealth in the Black community.