Good Fortune (9781416998631)

by Carter, Noni

The man was nowhere in sight.

  Heading quickly back home with my brother, I breathed in the cool, damp air.

  “So, what you think?” Daniel asked me after a while.

  “’Bout what, Sebastian?”

  “Those meetins, of course.”

  “Figure they’re a pretty good idea for the community.”

  “Ah, see there? Told you so. We need everyone’s opinion,” he said, looking at me with a smile.

  “Maybe so, Sebastian, but …”

  “But what?”

  “I feel as if there’s something else that needs to be done for Hadson, and I’m the one to do it.”

  “Something else like what?”

  “Something … I don’t know.” I shrugged, letting my thoughts disperse themselves on the breeze.

  “With all that talk of fighting back and working for them and all that, I just find myself wondering what else I could do. Something … different.”

  What was that something different? I knew the answer, but I kept coming upon the doubt that rumbled through my mind.

  How silly, Anna, you’re no schoolteacher!

  I shrugged off the idea and walked on in silence alongside Daniel, the two of us allowing our own thoughts of Hadson to carry our minds on different paths.

  CHAPTER

  40

  FEBRUARY SPRANG UPON US AND BROUGHT A NEW WAVE OF learning that had me up late into the night, working on a new assignment Mrs. Rosa had placed in my hands. I never complained: There was no reason to. I loved it. I was now feeding the yearning I had grown to accept as a slave, and I was never too full. By now, Mrs. Rosa no longer needed to keep me after the group classes, but usually I stayed anyway, burying my face in a book that I chose from one of the bookshelves. I could read anything if I wanted to, and Mrs. Rosa heard my thanks daily.

  The lessons were my refuge, my escape, when I felt fearful or angry or saddened, and those emotions could sneak up on me at any time. I didn’t understand the bond I felt between John and me. His absence only made me love him more.

  Amid all of this, Mrs. Rosa was very proud of my progress, of how much my reading and writing had improved. Anita hadn’t changed. She stayed quiet and was involved only to the extent she had to be. Peggy and I got along very well. I had never thought it would be possible for me to talk and interact with any white person as an equal, but I found myself doing this all the time with her.

  Usually, at the end of the day, Mrs. Rosa walked Peggy a short distance up the road, where they’d meet her mother, so Peggy wouldn’t have to walk home alone. On one occasion, Mrs. Rosa asked me to walk with them. We headed outdoors, and Peggy waved around a picture she had drawn in the two hours Mrs. Rosa had given her to complete it. We chatted about our day as we walked along.

  “Anna, you didn’t miss a single word Mrs. Rosa asked you to write down today—not one! You’re getting really good at everything—maybe even better than me!”

  “Well, I thank you, Peggy. But I couldn’t do a lot of it without your help.” She smiled, then, spotting her mother in the distance, took off running toward her.

  When Mrs. Rosa and I approached the woman, she hugged Mrs. Rosa close and they exchanged warm words, like sisters would do. She then turned her smile to me, and I saw that she had dimpled cheeks, just as her daughter did. Her hair, pinned up into a bun on the top of her head, was brown, though, not red like Peggy’s. We shook hands and she nodded cordially.

  “Peggy tells me you’re the new student. She says you learn quicker than anyone she’s ever seen.” I glanced at Mrs. Rosa, then back into the woman’s friendly eyes.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Sure. Maybe one day you’ll be helpin’ others, too, like Mrs. Rosa does.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Well … well, that would be nice, I suppose.” After we parted, the woman’s words trailed behind me.

  As February rolled along Daniel was becoming more and more involved with secret plans and community projects that took him from Hadson for as long as three days in a row. More worrisome, however, were Daniel’s ideas about Mary’s predicament. I still feared that he would pack up his belongings and return to the South without alerting me, simply to avoid the pain of telling me good-bye. He fell into heavy moods, sometimes, moods that took some getting used to for Florence, and lately, even I could not figure out what was in my brother’s heart.

  I shared my dread with Florence, leaving out the many details that made the situation as alarming as it was. She fell into an anxious state, regardless, and decided to approach Daniel about it all. I let her speak; I had learned when I was much younger that Daniel would share only what he wanted to share when it came to personal matters.

  “Sebastian, what’ve you been up to? What have you been planning? We’re concerned … concerned about you.”

  Daniel had stopped by briefly to visit with us, when Florence began to question him. He turned to me, but, seeing my piercing look, he turned back to Florence.

  “It’s my work,” he said simply, intending to leave his explanation at that.

  “Sebastian, you’re not … leaving us, are you?” Her voice shook.

  “No!” he said all too quickly. “Wouldn’t leave a pretty lady like you, an’ my sista here …” He shook off his distant, gloomy demeanor, brought his hand over my own, and dared to look me in the eyes again.

  “Anna, you know, I b’lieve I’m safest when I’m in your good graces, an’ when you ain’t worryin’ so much ’bout me.”

  “Sebastian—”

  He waved us off. “Gotta go! Y’all keep watchin’ out fo’ Mama Bessie, hear?”

  My heart nearly stopped: His words sounded like a farewell of some sort. Florence, however, seemed content with his words, and returned to the house, chatting about something else. I barely heard her; instead, I watched my brother walk away from Mama Bessie’s. His every stride seemed to sprinkle a little bit of emptiness into my soul. But he said it’s for his work! I attempted to assure myself of this, but his leave-taking sat heavily in my chest.

  Sleep was a mere thought, a dream in itself that night. I lay awake, clutching my covers, the feeling of lonesomeness eating at my gut. The darkness burned my eyes, which wouldn’t close. They were frozen open from the cold feeling traveling through my body.

  It had been a few hours that I lay like this, unmoving, when I heard a soft tapping on the door. Florence stirred almost immediately. I stayed put as the tapping continued. She rose like a corpse coming to life to answer it. She turned the knob, and as the door opened, I heard her gasp softly.

  “Sebastian! What you doing here? How you get in?”

  “Shh, Flo. My sista ’sleep?”

  “Seems like it to me, but … Sebastian, why you here?” she asked again, her voice sounding more amused than concerned. I heard him step into the room and walk over to where I lay. I shut my eyes before he got too close.

  “She sleepin’, I told you!” Florence whispered. I heard a long sigh escape his lips before he turned back to her.

  Florence questioned him again. “What is it you need, Sebastain? It’s real early, an’ it’s good to see you an’ all, but you really ain’t s’pose …”

  “Flo, I’m leaving,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Jus’ fo’ a little while, not long. Be back in no time!”

  “Sebastian, you—”

  He interrupted her. “I promise, Flo. I’ll be back.” It might just as well have been John’s voice making that promise.

  “What for, Sebastian? You can’t keep doing things without telling me what they are.”

  “I’m needed, Flo, that’s all. It’s just some business that’s gotta be taken care of.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why you ain’t wake Anna to tell her?”

  I didn’t have to wonder why. My brother hated good-byes. He had already parted from me in his own way.

  “She’ll just try an’ talk me down ’
bout it, an’ I don’t want her to do that. Fact is, she’s right half the time, but this … this jus’ somethin’ that needs to be done.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees. I was freezing.

  “How long you gonna be gone?” Silence. “Sebastian, how long?”

  “Don’t know.” I listened to my breath in the silence that followed and wondered what in the world was stopping me from jumping up and talking my brother out of going.

  ’Cause you know him, Anna. You know him a little too well.

  “You don’t know? Sebastian, how could you not know how long you gonna be …”

  “Come with me, will you?” Daniel asked her.

  “What? You want me to leave my work an’ all?”

  “No, Flo, come with me now, jus’ till the rays of dawn break through the sky.”

  “Sebastian, I don’t know if …” Her voice trailed off, and within the confines of a minute, I heard her shuffle out of the room, and the door shut.

  But I couldn’t let him go like that. I lifted myself from the bed, ready to dart toward the door and scream after him, but before I could move any farther, the door creaked back open. Daniel poked his head around. He must have known that I was awake. He felt it.

  “Daniel, Daniel, please don’t go,” I whispered to him, my lips trembling, but he cut into my words.

  “Anna, I’ll be back.” He said it with such finality that it felt as if he had shut my lips tight with his fingers. He stood a minute longer, embracing me with his eyes.

  “Wouldn’t lie to you, Anna. B’lieve me, I’ll be back.” With that, he stepped back out of the door and shut it, leaving me in scowling silence.

  Mary was gone. John wasn’t here. Now my brother had left me too.

  I didn’t sleep; I couldn’t, even when daylight showed its face. Florence returned, the mixed emotions of contentment and sadness playing their own roles on her face.

  This was going to be harder than I thought.

  The morning flew past in a frenzy. I lay asleep, claiming sickness, not quite ready to walk out into the suffocating smiles and laughter of Mama Bessie’s household.

  Nighttime slipped back upon us; the entire day seemed lost in the stroke of an hour. Florence was back at my bedside.

  “Anna, I spoke to Sebastian this morning.”

  Silence.

  “Said he’d be gone for a while, but he’ll be back before you blink!” I knew Florence well enough to know that she was covering her sadness with forced cheerfulness.

  “Why he leave?” I asked, playing the part I had to assume.

  “Work.”

  “There a reason he didn’t tell me himself?” A routine question.

  “Well, no, not really. I was up, an’ … an’, well, he said don’t go about thinkin’ he ain’t as smart as you. Said to trust him like he trusts you; he knows what he’s doing.”

  I coughed, but Florence didn’t budge. I coughed again.

  “Hey, Anna, you don’t sound too good. Hope you’re up tomorrow, though. I don’t have to go to the shop, an’ I miss my help in the house!” Then she was gone.

  I wasn’t up the next day or the next. Mama Bessie came up often with food and loving words of comfort. She, alone, seemed to understand that the chains that bound me to my bed were not those of sickness, but rather lack of spirit. She explained to me that word was sent to Mrs. Rosa concerning my condition.

  It was the fourth day that I solemnly returned to the world about me. I was in this place called Freedom. I had things to do, a community I was part of, and an education I had to continue with. A week passed, and it was then that I saw Florence’s real feelings, beneath her smiles and her claims that Daniel would be back soon.

  I woke up early one morning, before the day’s chores began, and found Florence leaning against the window, shoulders drooped, and her chin resting in her hand.

  “Flo?” I called softly, pulling myself up. She said nothing. “Flo? You all right?”

  “I ain’t a fool, Anna. I know that kind of travel, for whatever work he’s doin’, is dangerous,” she said, still gazing out the window. I sat silent, letting her roam around in her own mind.

  “He told me when he comes back, he don’t wanna see no evidence of me cryin’ an’ carryin’ on. Said smile for him when he’s away, an’ maybe the wind’ll carry him back quicker.” I felt a pang of sadness. I felt myself clinging to Florence’s words, knowing I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it. My eyes welled up.

  “I know he’ll be back safe. I jus’ know it! I jus’ wish he didn’t have to go,” she said, brushing a tear from her eye. She sighed, ran a hand over her hair, and turned to me, a weak smile crossing her lips.

  “You ready for a long day?”

  Two and a half weeks went by, and my mood darkened. However sad Florence felt over Daniel’s absence, she remained in high spirits, hopeful that he’d return unharmed. She didn’t know his true purpose. He had gone back for Mary—I could see it all over his face! Florence didn’t understand that there was really no such thing as a runaway successfully returning to the South and making it back to the North. She didn’t understand how foolish Daniel had been to leave us.

  I thought about this as I walked home on a Thursday evening from Mrs. Rosa’s. Oddly enough, Daniel leaving seemed to muddle everything in my mind except my education. My desire to learn all I could only strengthened, and I put all my energy into it.

  Words were my life. This life was my love. But did I love this life? It was so painful, so …

  “Look, Anna, look what I made fo’ him!” Florence was walking quickly up to me. In her eyes, I could see hints of redness, but where tears once had been I saw a childlike excitement. I took the small blanket she was holding.

  “It’s for Sebastian’s friend’s little baby. He made the little boy a wood toy, an’ I figured I could do somethin’ for the baby too. Sebastian gonna be so happy when he gets back.”

  “He ain’t comin’ back, Flo.” I said harshly. The excitement seeped out from Florence’s eyes. Her smile turned into a frown, and she spoke to me with an edge of anger in her voice.

  “What’s wrong with you, Anna? Don’t know how you reckon that, but it ain’t the truth. He said he’ll be back, and you watch!”

  I was about to respond, to tell Florence again that he wouldn’t return, but it seemed useless. She wouldn’t hear me out until time proved me right. I held back the tears with mature patience. This was the way things went: life brought people I loved close to me, and it often took them away. I’d have to find peace in that.

  “This your brother. Don’t you trust him?” Florence asked. I nodded slowly. “Then get yo’self together,” she said, her jaw tight.

  Florence took the blanket and headed back toward the house. The doubts in my own mind were screaming too loudly for me to hear the assurance in her words. I didn’t think she was as angry as she looked, maybe just scared at what I had said. I turned my thoughts to Mary and whispered to her spirit.

  “Aunt Mary, I don’t know what to do. Pray for your son, Aunt Mary. Please pray for him.”

  CHAPTER

  41

  “ANNA, I WANT TO INVITE YOU TO DINNER TOMORROW NIGHT at my house. I would like you to meet my husband.” Another week had come and gone, and I was at the now-familiar house of my tutor. I had tried my best to work through the day’s lessons with poise, but I was distracted by the emptiness I felt. I had been readying myself to head back to Mama Bessie’s when Mrs. Rosa invited me for dinner.

  “You haven’t talked about him much. What does he do, again?” I asked. She looked at me with a curious grin.

  “Just about everything under the sun.”

  Reaching Mama Bessie’s, I ran into Ned at the front of the yard, and he dragged me into the house, bursting with news of the events of the day.

  “And Helen just had him hollerin’ an’ all….” I let the boy talk until he was red in the face as I greeted Mama Bessie and helped her with dinner for the chil
dren. When he had finally finished and run back out to the yard to play, I told Mama Bessie about my plans for the evening.

  “Well, go ahead, chile! I have the help I need tonight.”

  I thanked Mama Bessie, greeted Florence, and left for Mrs. Rosa’s house, whistling to myself to keep my thoughts at bay. Reaching her door, I knocked softly. The door came open in a flash, and Mrs. Rosa, abandoning her normal intimidating stature, pulled me along through the house to one of the back rooms. As soon as I seated myself at the table, a procession of knocks, an awkward little tune, sounded on the front door. Then I heard the door creak open.

  “Hello!” a voice called out.

  “One minute, Anna,” Mrs. Rosa said as she hurried around the corner to receive her husband. I heard the door shut.

  “Hey there, miss! I’m, ah, I’m looking for a stolen beauty, a rose of some kind. They told me I might find her here, somewhere in this house. I know I’ve just barged in, but do you think you can help me?” The man’s loud and hauntingly familiar voice echoed throughout the house. Mrs. Rosa’s laugh was carried pleasantly to my ears.

  “Hush all of that, would you? You know we have company. Anna’s here.”

  “Indeed, you told me to expect your best student. I’m certainly intimidated!”

  I could hear their footsteps, and in a matter of seconds, Mrs. Rosa’s husband followed her through the kitchen doorway. Looking at the man, I prayed that my true reaction didn’t show on my face.

  “This is my husband, Anna,” Mrs. Rosa said, watching my expression with amusement. I followed him closely with my eyes, unsure of whether to hold out my hand. I was stunned: She was married to a white man.

  However, as he walked closer, and finally stopped to stand behind a seat at the table, my initial thoughts stood still with a sudden realization. I knew him.

  “Mr. Caldwell!” He smiled, warmly, and held out his hand. I stood quickly and grasped it. “It was you—you got me an education!”

  “Well, now,” Mrs. Rosa said, “I daresay I had just a little bit to do with that, don’t you think?” She laughed, then disappeared for a moment to gather the dishes, as Mr. Caldwell and I sat down.