by Joyce Hansen
“Hey, Obi,” Thomas boomed loudly, “man, you should’ve been with us at the meeting last night. Good thing we coming out this army soon. I think they going to have another civil war.”
“What happen?” Obi asked.
“Almost every black man who was a delegate to the constitutional convention had his life threatened. One of them has a guard day and night in front of his house,” Thomas said.
Peter grimaced as he pulled on his boots. “That’s why me and Thomas and some of the other boys heading west when we muster out. There be land out there and true freedom. I hear they giving away land—two, three dollars an acre. Rich as you is, Obi, you could buy thousands of acres.”
“You better come on with us, Obi,” Thomas said. “Start a real new life. I know you have the first dollar you ever made in the army. Take that money out of the bank and come with us, Corporal Greenbacks.”
Obi smiled at their teasing, as he stretched his arms. He didn’t drink, smoke, or gamble and had managed to save most of his army pay. “I find my Easter.”
Thomas’s eyes opened wide. “You found her? You actually found her?”
“She’s living on the island?” Peter asked.
Obi told them the whole story.
“I rejoice for you, Obi, but after you marry her, what next?” Thomas asked.
“Buy land on the island, if that’s where Easter wants to stay. Have our own children. Open my own business, maybe. I know the carpenter’s trade.”
“Every black man in the south know the carpenter trade,” Peter said. “And suppose the girl don’t want to marry your hide?”
Even Peter couldn’t anger him. “Then I take my money out of the bank and come out West with you. Buy that land you always talking about.”
Thomas suprised Obi. “Peter, we all have to find our own way. Leave him be.”
Obi put on his jacket as he gazed out of the window at the magnolia tree, beginning to blooming.
“I’m happy for you,” Thomas said.
“Thank you, Thomas. Peter be about right though. Now the question is will she marry me.”
“At least you know that she and the boy are alive. Seems as though they found new lives for themselves. You must do the same if she doesn’t want to marry you.”
Obi’s pronounced high cheekbones looked as though they’d been etched in black marble, and his eyes were intense as he stared at Thomas. Can’t make him understand.“Won’t have no new life without them, but I’ll keep on living.”
When Obi took his post in front of the house, he saw Miss Jeffries running toward him, appearing flustered.
“Corporal Booker, why did you give those orders yesterday? We had a placement in Charleston for the children.”
“Miss Jeffries, what’re you talking about?”
“The children. The baby was going to be put in the Orphan House, and a very fine lady was willing to take in the two older ones.”
“Miss Jeffries, I give no orders about them children. I left them in your care.” He glanced at the line of people forming in front of the house.
“When I told the oldest girl they’d be leaving for a new home, she says that you told them not to go anywhere. She said they were staying with you.”
Obi tried to look as serious and disturbed as Miss Jeffries, but he wanted to laugh. “Ma’am, I think that little girl hoodwink you.” A smile hovered around his lips in spite of himself. “I told her no such thing. Send them out on the next transport to Charleston.”
“It will be too late. The Orphan House stays full. And the lady can easily get other children.”
“Miss Jeffries, something else will turn up. And there be plenty fine ladies from Charleston who miss their slaves and want to train little black children for servants.”
“You’re wrong, Corporal. This is a refined lady of color. Childless, who would be willing to train them and give them a loving home.”
“Send her a letter and tell her the children will come with the next transport.”
Miss Jeffries quickly walked away from him. He didn’t blame her for being angry. Fooled by a child. In the meantime, nothing could spoil his almost good mood on such a perfect day.
In the afternoon, as fewer people trickled into the bureau, he left his post and walked over to the school cabin. He peeked inside. Grace sat quietly on a bench near the door. Araba was sound asleep, her head resting on Grace’s lap. Scipio and two other children sat at a table and carefully wrote the letters of the alphabet on their slates. He didn’t see Miss Jeffries, but Miss Caroline, the young black woman who helped her, was showing the children how to form their letters.
Obi entered the cabin, and the young woman smiled prettily at him. “Miss Caroline, can Grace come outside for a moment?”
She let Araba lie across the bench and walked outside with Obi.
“Why you lie to Miss Jeffries?”
“I didn’t lie, sir.”
“You lying now. You told her that I ordered you to remain here.”
She stared at the ground. “I thought you want us to stay.”
“How you think that?”
“When we was in the room, you say don’t leave till you come get us.”
“But that was in the room.”
“I thought we couldn’t leave here less you tell us to, sir.”
This is a clever little girl, Obi thought. “Grace, you listen to Miss Jeffries and you go where she say. She’s trying to help you all.”
Grace kept her head lowered.
“Grace? You understand?”
“I thought we was staying with you, sir.”
“You can’t stay with me. Miss Jeffries will find a good home for you.”
She kept her head lowered. “But we have to stay together.”
“These missionary are good people. They won’t separate you.” He hoped that he was right. “Why ain’t you copying your letters like the other children?”
“Can’t see so good since that time.”
“What time?”
“When they was hanging in the trees. Miss Emma and Mr.—”
Obi hushed her. “You could see before?”
“Yes, sir.”
He lifted her chin. “Can you see my face?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you can see.”
“I only see your face. Nothing else. Can’t see letters.”
“But you can see my face?”
“Yes, sir. It cloudy though.”
He looked at the top of her head and shook his own. This is a rock-hard, hardheaded little girl, he thought to himself.
“Grace, don’t tell no more lies. Now you go on in there and learn your letters. When you was a slave child, it was against the law for you to get learning.”
As he walked away though, he wondered. Perhaps there was something wrong? Later that day, he asked Miss Jeffries to examine Grace’s eyes. “Now who’s being hoodwinked, Corporal? I see nothing wrong with the child’s eyes. And if there is, which I doubt, it could’ve been taken care of at the Orphan House.”
Though his days were busy, each one felt like a year as Obi anxiously waited for Easter’s reply. In the meantime, Miss Jeffries informed him that the fine colored lady from Charleston had taken in another child, and the Orphan House was full. The children remained at the bureau. And the days that stretched so long for Obi were like medicine for the children, as they grew stronger and healthier—even the frail Araba.
Obi saw them daily. Scipio made certain of that, searching out “Cupple Booker” to proudly show him how well he and Grace were writing their letters. Obi suspected, however, that Scipio was writing for Grace.
Finally, in the middle of June Easter’s letter arrived. Obi didn’t receive it until the early evening, the time for mail call. He rushed out of the office as soon as the clerk handed him the letter, not wanting Thomas and Peter asking him questions. He didn’t know what Easter had said. Maybe she wasn’t even planning to return to the South. Maybe that was just Rose’s
wishful thinking.
Obi left headquarters and walked to the docks. The sky was streaked with pink, red, and mauve, and as they always did, the cries of the seagulls reminded him of his mother and the way she screamed when he was taken from her. Obi found a deserted spot near a rotting, unused berth and steeled himself.
May 27, 1868
Dear Obi Booker,
Is it really you? My Obi from the Jennings farm? Why did you name yourself after the old African? All this time I thought that you took the name Jennings and I’ve been looking for you with that name. When I received your letter today I cried for joy and sorrow. I’m grieved that Mariah and Gabriel have died. She looked poorly when I visited her last. And Mistress Jennings, I know I shouldn’t say Mistress, but it doesn’t seem right saying anything else. Maybe it’s not true that she’s dead. Maybe Miss Phillips told you that to hurt and worry you. When I return I’m going to visit the old place and find out for certain whether it’s true.
Obi, I cried for joy too, knowing that you are alive. Believe me I tried to find you. I went to the Freedmen’s Bureau in Elenaville and Charleston.
I always remember how we kissed before you left the camp. But I think it’s just a foolish young girl’s thoughts, and that after all of this time you probably have a wife and children. Of course, I will marry you. I have waited all these many years.
You asked me whether I want you to come to Philadelphia. Since I received your letter I think about you all of the time. I see your face between the covers of my school books when I should be studying. I want to see you more than anything. However, I don’t think you should come here now. If you do, you will spend all the money you save just to eat and rent a room. It is hard for the colored people to get work and when they do it pays very little. Only a very few live like the Fortunes. These northern buckra, bad as the ones back home. I do not want to live in the North. The people can be as cold as the weather. Santa Elena Island is my home and I rather suffer southern rebels than some of these northern rascals.
I will be practice teaching at the orphanage for colored children in July and August and will be home in September. It is not so long, not as long as it has been.
Rose gave me two acres of land. Stay on it and build a house for us and Jason and all of the beautiful children we will have.
Let me tell you about my new life. The best thing about living in Philadelphia is the school and the Fortune family. They are the most wonderful people. They are not like some of the colored people I have met who think that they are better than people like us who have been slaves. The family took me in and treat me well. I didn’t know that some colored families live almost as grand as the Phillipses. The Fortunes have a maid and a woman who does their laundry. I have to help them when I am done with school and my studies, but I don’t mind. I am earning my keep.
I love school very much, even though some of the other colored girls who have always lived in the North make fun of me behind my back. They laugh at my speech, though I try to talk Yankee style when I am around them. But I ignore them because I am just as free as they are. The girls stop laughing when I learn Geography, Mathematics and History better than they do.
I have not heard from Jason for a while and I am beginning to worry about him. He hasn’t written to me since April when he was in Georgia. I pray he’s well and that Dr. Taylor is taking good care of him. Jason didn’t leave an address because they were traveling. When I return Obi and we marry, the first thing we will do is bring that rascal home to be with us.
Give Rose and everyone my love. Please write me back soon. I cannot wait to hear from you again.
Love always,
Easter
Obi was overwhelmed. His dark eyes watered, and he could not control the tears of relief that glistened on his high cheekbones and ran down his thin face.
He read the letter three more times to make certain that she really said, Yes, she would marry him. Obi felt so foolish as he wiped his face that he had to laugh at himself. Big stupid man crying. He kissed the letter, folded it, and put it in his pocket. He felt as though he’d been tied up with great thick chains and was suddenly able to burst out of his fetters.
Obi hurried back to Bay Street, feeling as though he could jump and spin and fly with the gulls in celebration. No longer would the cries of the seagulls remind him of his mother’s screams; from that time on they would be to him cries of pure joy. He answered Easter’s letter that evening, telling her that he’d be waiting for her in New Canaan when she returned.
He flung his heart open, finally, unafraid to be happy.
Chapter 6
Major Delany was fully cognizant of the
exceeding delicacy of his position.
—FROM LIFE OF MAJOR DELANY
July 1868
The air was heavy with moisture, while the sun fought to break through the thick clouds. Red myrtle bushes colored the yard. Obi smiled slightly at Scipio, Grace, and Araba. They solemnly watched the mustering-out ceremony. Miss Jeffries, Miss Caroline, and some of the other bureau employees watched too.
Obi felt a tinge of sadness as as he listened to Major Delany complete his farewell address. Delany was one of the few black officers in the Union Army, and the men of the 104th U.S. Colored Troops were proud of their commander. Not a crease was out of place in the major’s uniform, and the saber hanging at his side gleamed like a jewel as his voice rang clearly across the yard.
“Congress has passed the Fourteenth Amendment, which states that all persons born in this nation are citizens. And that includes formerly enslaved people. Every citizen, no matter what his color, shall have equal protection under the law.” He paused and stared intensely at each and every one of the men. “You men have been instrumental in making this amendment a reality. You have made the way easier for the generation that follows. Never let anyone treat you as less than a man. Acquire land and property, acquire learning, but most of all, acquire love. We have lived with hate too long.”
Obi’s throat tightened, and he lowered his head so that he could compose himself before facing Thomas and Peter. He wondered whether he’d ever see them again, and began to miss them already. The major shook everyone’s hands and handed them their discharge papers.
“We’re heading out now,” Thomas said. “Soon as I get Peter away from that pretty little lady over there. I’ll write you as soon as I can, so you know where to find us if you change your mind about going west.”
While they both smiled at Peter, who was trying to catch Miss Caroline’s eye, Scipio dashed over to Obi. “Congratulations, Cupple Booker!” he shouted, giving Obi a salute. With a smile almost as wide as Scipio’s, Obi returned his salute.
Thomas rubbed Scipio’s head. “I think we have a future army man here.” Obi looked around and saw Grace shyly standing in the corner, with Araba in her arms. He’d learned this morning that a new group of refugees was being relocated to a work farm on Edisto Island run by missionaries, and the children were included. He would be sailing on the same ferry, which was stopping first at Santa Elena Island.
Miss Caroline called the children to take them back to the school, and Scipio turned to Obi. “Can I stay with you?”
“You go on. I’ll be around to the school to see you.”
“That little fellow looks like he’s attached himself to you, Obi,” Thomas said.
Obi nodded. “I hope the missionaries find them a good home on the island.”
Peter walked over to Obi and Thomas. “We not saying good-bye,” he announced. “We just saying see you in a while.”
The three men hugged one another, and for a brief moment Obi regretted not going with them. It passed, though. He sadly watched them walk toward the house until they disappeared inside. Too many good-byes in one day. Suddenly he wanted to do something special for the children. He left the yard and pushed his way down Bay Street, toward the general store on the corner. The street was unusually crowded with vendors, sailors, refugees, and a few idlers.
He purchased a pink gingham dress for Grace and a linen shift and porcelain doll for Araba. And for Scipio, who was never without a smile and a warm greeting for everyone, especially “Cupple Booker,” he bought a writing book and a pair of trousers. He also purchased a dainty beaded purse for Easter.
When he finished making his purchases, he walked across the street to the Freedmen’s Savings and Loan Association. He withdrew the $500 he’d saved out of the $840 he’d made while in the army. He smiled to himself as he carefully put the money in his billfolder. He would give Easter, himself, and Jason a good home—something they’d never had.
Obi hurried back to headquarters and found the children standing in front of the house with a group of about thirty other men, women and children. Grace held Araba, and Scipio looked as though he had been crying. When he saw Obi walking toward him, however, he was transformed. “Cupple Booker,” he shouted.
Obi handed Scipio the package. “Here some gifts for all of you. Don’t lose this package, Scipio.”
Scipio’s bright eyes danced. “No, Cupple. I won’t.”
“Thank you, sir,” Grace said softly.
He knelt in front of them as he’d done when they first met. “You going to a new home where you’ll be safe. Maybe the missionaries find your kin for you. Your ma said you came from an island. Maybe you have kin where you’re going.”
Grace kept her face lowered as Obi spoke. He lifted her chin, and her eyes focused on him for a moment, then took on the faraway gaze. “You understand, Grace?”
He rubbed Araba’s little hand, and she smiled. Her eyes were no longer glazed and feverish.
“You coming with us?” Scipio asked excitedly.
“I’m going on the ferry, but—”
Miss Jeffries rushed over to them. “Come now, children. You have to go with the others.”
“But Cupple Booker, you coming too?” Fear was beginning to cloud Scipio’s face.
