Together is All We Need

by Michael Phillips

  ‘‘I don’ hab ter take dis no mo!’’ huffed Josepha. ‘‘You may be white an’ I may be black, you may be thin an’ I may be fat like you say. But I’s a person ob God’s makin’ jes’ like you, an’ you ain’t got no right ter—’’

  ‘‘How dare you talk to me in such a tone!’’ cried Mrs. McSimmons in a white wrath, struggling with all her might to free her arm from Josepha’s hold.

  ‘‘An’ how dare you whip me like I wuz one ob yer barn dogs!’’ retorted Josepha, continuing to hold her fast, for she was easily the stronger of the two by at least double. ‘‘I’s a free woman, I ain’t yo slave. I can come an’ go when I like an’ I ain’t gotter put up wiff no whippin’ jes’ ’cuz you married a low-down man what can’t keep his trousers on. Miz Mayme’ll gib me work too, so I think I’ll jes’ be movin’ on. Effen she can’ pay me, she ain’t likely ter let me starve neither an’ it’ll be a sight better’n puttin’ up wiff da evil mischief ob a lady like you. So I’ll thank you ter gib me da week’s pay I gots comin’ ter me an’—’’

  ‘‘You swine!’’ seethed the woman through clenched teeth. ‘‘You’ll get not a cent if you desert me without notice!’’

  ‘‘Well, den . . . no matter. I’s leavin’ anyway,’’ said Josepha.

  Still holding the lady’s wrist with one hand, she now reached up with her other and twisted the whip away from her, then released her and walked to the door and threw it out into the dirt. She then turned, went to her room trembling but with head high, and packed her few belongings and put them in a pillow slip. Three minutes later she was walking out the same door for good, leaving Mistress McSimmons in stunned silence behind her.

  Josepha had no more idea where Katie and I lived than did her now former mistress. But she was familiar with Henry from an occasional delivery he had made through the years to the McSimmons plantation. She knew that he worked at the livery at Greens Crossing and was more likely than anyone she could think of to have caught wind of where a black girl calling herself Mayme might have got to.

  Three hours after Josepha’s unceremonious departure from the only home she had ever really known, Henry looked up from his work and saw the large black woman ambling wearily in his direction. He set down his pitchfork and waited.

  ‘‘You be Henry, effen I’m not mistaken,’’ she said, puffing from her long walk.

  ‘‘Dat I is,’’ said Henry.

  ‘‘I’m Josepha,’’ said Josepha, ‘‘from da McSimmons place.’’

  ‘‘I knows who you is,’’ chuckled Henry. ‘‘I seen you dere many er time. But wha’chu doin’ so far from home, an’ on what looks ter be sech tired feet?’’

  ‘‘Ain’t my home no mo,’’ said Josepha. ‘‘I’s a free woman, so I dun lef ’. I ain’t gotter take dat kin’ er treatment no mo from nobody. An’ now I’m lookin’ fer Miz Mayme, an’ I’m hopin’ you might be familiar ’nuff wiff her ter be able ter direc’ me ter where I kin fin’ her.’’

  Henry chuckled again. ‘‘I reckon I kin do dat all right,’’ he said. ‘‘Why I might jes’ take you dere myse’f, effen you ain’t in too much a hurry. Hit’s a longer walk den I think you wants ter make, an’ effen you kin wait till I’m dun here, I’ll fetch you dere in dat nice buckboard ober dere dat I’s repairin’ fer Mr. Thurston. I reckon hit’s ’bout ready fer me ter take ter him, an’ Rosewood’s right on da way. I don’ think he’ll min’ a passenger ridin’ ’long wiff me.’’

  Just as the sun was going down that evening, we heard the sound of a horse and wagon approaching. Now that everyone knew about us, it didn’t seem to matter making preparations to fool people anymore. It didn’t matter anyway because we saw soon enough that it was Henry. But never could anything have surprised me as much as to see Josepha’s plump frame sitting there beside him!

  Henry reined in as I ran toward the buckboard. It took a little while for Josepha to get down to the ground, even with Henry’s help. One look at her face told me she was exhausted.

  ‘‘Mayme, chil’!’’ she said, taking me in her arms. When I stepped back a minute later I saw that she was crying.

  ‘‘What is it, Josepha?’’ I said.

  ‘‘I lef’, Mayme,’’ she said. ‘‘I dun lef’ Mistress McSimmons. She’s a bad woman an’ I finally jes’ lef’. I didn’t know where ter go ’cept ter you.’’

  ‘‘Oh, Josepha . . . I’m sorry.’’ I embraced her again, feeling how strange it was for me, just a girl—though I guess I was almost eighteen by now—to give comfort to someone so much older, especially this lady who had given comfort to me as a child and who I always saw as such a tower of strength among the slaves.

  ‘‘Does you think yer mistress’ll hab room fer an’ ol’ black woman sumwheres?’’

  Just then Katie ran out of the house.

  ‘‘We’ve always got room,’’ I said, ‘‘—especially for you! Don’t we, Katie?’’ I added, turning to Katie as she ran up.

  ‘‘Of course!’’ exclaimed Katie. ‘‘You are welcome here. I’ll hurry back in and start preparing one of the rooms immediately.’’

  ‘‘What dat she say?’’ said Josepha in surprise as she watched Katie go. ‘‘She can’t be fixin’ no room fer me! She’s da mistress!’’

  ‘‘Things are different here, Josepha,’’ I laughed. ‘‘There’s no black or white, no mistress or slaves. We’re not even hired coloreds because there’s no money either. I’m sorry, but Katie won’t be able to pay you any more than she does me. But we’re a family and we’ve got enough to eat. We’ve learned that being together is all we need, and being a family is the most important thing of all. I reckon that’s a sight better than money. We’re happy to have you.’’

  ‘‘Den let’s go an’ help Miz Katie wif dat gettin’ ready. I still don’ like the idea ob her white han’s waitin’ on me nohow.’’

  Henry and I got Josepha inside and sitting down in a chair with a glass of cold water. I could tell Henry wanted to say something to me. He and I stepped back outside for a minute.

  ‘‘Any word yet from Mr. Daniels?’’ he asked in a quiet voice.

  ‘‘No, Henry,’’ I said, shaking my head. ‘‘We haven’t heard a thing.’’

  SEARCH FOR THE DEED

  9

  AFTER A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP, JOSEPHA WAS ALMOST back to herself, though her feet and legs were sore for several more days. She’d walked a long way for a woman her size! The morning after her arrival with Henry, she was bustling about in the kitchen, singing and waiting on everybody like she’d been at Rosewood for years. Having a family to be mammy to made her happier than just about anything. Even Aleta took to her cheerful spirit almost immediately, and by that afternoon was following her around like a puppy dog asking ten questions a minute.

  But Josepha’s appearance had put Emma in a state of panic.

  ‘‘If she’s here, dey’ll foller her an’ fin’ me shure!’’ she said to Katie, half wailing in despair.

  ‘‘Dey ain’t nobody gwine hurt you, Emma, chil’,’’ said Josepha. ‘‘Dat mistress, she don’ know where I’s gone, an’ ol’ Uncle Henry, he ain’t gwine tell.’’

  And after a day or two of reassuring talk from Katie and me, Emma gradually calmed down, like she usually did. But as confident as were Josepha’s assurances, Katie and I knew how unlikely it was that a black man everyone knew and a huge black woman they didn’t, riding through town in a white man’s buckboard, would have escaped notice. We knew one person especially who was bound to have noticed! How long it would take for Mrs. McSimmons to initiate inquiries, we didn’t know, but once she did, it wouldn’t take long for her to put two and two together, especially if she got curious about Josepha’s blurting of my name and put it together with Emma’s disappearance and all the rest of what happened.

  I mentioned all this to Henry next time I saw him.

  He nodded as he listened, but then began to chuckle. ‘‘You’s right to be a mite cautious, Miz Mayme,’’ he said. ‘‘But hit ain’t
likely folks’ll be talkin’ anytime soon. I went out from da livery in da opposite direction from Rosewood jes’ in case, an’ speshully so’s we wouldn’t go past da store. Effen we could jes’ keep dat ol’ Hammond woman from layin’ her eyes on us, I figger we’d be safe enuff.’’

  Even with Henry’s precautions, however, we knew that if Katie’s uncle caught sight of Josepha, news would spread just like it had before. Neither Katie or I wanted to spoil Josepha’s happiness at being away from Mrs. McSimmons, but we had to tell her how things stood with Katie’s uncle, and that it wouldn’t be much longer before we were all going to have to leave. And for the present, we knew that if he came back, we had to keep him from seeing Josepha for Emma’s sake.

  And indeed, Katie’s uncle did begin coming around again, though I think he might have gone back home in the meantime to Charlotte where he lived. But when he did come back, he acted more familiar than ever, as I said before, like Rosewood was already his.

  We had no warning of his coming until he was riding into the yard and dismounting from his horse.

  ‘‘Uncle Burchard!’’ yelled Katie into the house. ‘‘Uncle Burchard’s here!’’

  There was no time to scurry Josepha upstairs, and as it turned out it was a good thing because that’s right where Katie’s uncle went when he came in. And we certainly had no intention of trying to hide her in the cellar like we had Emma do before. Josepha would never fit through the cellar door!

  We were in the kitchen, and without even thinking about it, Katie motioned quickly to Josepha and stuffed her into the larder and closed the door just about the same second her uncle walked into the opposite side of the kitchen from outside— as always, without knocking.

  ‘‘Oh . . . hello, Uncle Burchard,’’ said Katie, hurrying away from the larder door.

  ‘‘Never mind your hellos,’’ he said, glancing toward me. ‘‘I see you haven’t gotten rid of her yet.’’

  ‘‘She’s got no place else to go, Uncle Burchard.’’

  ‘‘What’s that to me? She’ll have to go soon enough. Are the others still here too?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  He shook his head in annoyance, then headed into the house and toward the stairs. We watched him go, wondering what he would say when he saw Emma and William in one of the upstairs rooms. He paused in the parlor and looked back.

  ‘‘Well, come on,’’ he said to Katie. ‘‘I want you to show me where your father kept his papers. Did he have a study or secretary or something?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir,’’ replied Katie, going with him. When they were out of sight, I slowly followed.

  I reached the upstairs landing and heard their voices coming from the room that had been Katie’s Mama’s office.

  ‘‘ . . . deed to the place?’’ her uncle had asked.

  ‘‘ . . . don’t know, sir . . . what does it look like?’’

  ‘‘Never mind . . . must be here.’’

  It was quiet a long time and I heard nothing but papers shuffling as he rummaged through the desk and all its drawers.

  ‘‘What about a safe . . . did your father have a safe?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘Well . . . where is it? Are you a simpleton?’’

  ‘‘Over there on the wall,’’ said Katie, ‘‘behind the picture.’’

  ‘‘Why didn’t you say so in the first place?’’ said her uncle.

  I heard the clomp of his boots walking across the floor. ‘‘It’s locked,’’ he said a few seconds later.

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘And I suppose you have no idea of the combination?’’

  ‘‘No, sir.’’

  ‘‘You’re a big help! Well, I’ll have to find the combination. The deed’s got to be inside. All right, leave me alone now. I’ll look for it myself. There’s always a hidden record of the combination somewhere nearby.’’

  Katie left the room and saw me standing there on the landing. We didn’t say anything. I tiptoed down the stairs beside her.

  ‘‘What’s a deed?’’ I whispered when we were back in the kitchen.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ replied Katie. ‘‘I think it’s something about who owns things, or a piece of paper that says you own something. He said he was looking for the deed to Rosewood.’’

  ‘‘Is that what would make him own it?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. . . maybe.’’

  ‘‘What if you had the deed? Maybe that would make you the owner.’’

  ‘‘I don’t think it works that way,’’ said Katie. ‘‘I’m not old enough to have a deed. And I’m a girl. I don’t know if girls can own things like houses, can they?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. Coloreds probably can’t either. I reckon that puts us in a fix.’’

  ‘‘No worse than the one we’ve been in all along.’’

  Our conversation was interrupted a few minutes later by the sound of Katie’s uncle’s footsteps coming down the stairs. When he walked back into the kitchen there was nothing in his hands.

  ‘‘Did you find it, Uncle Burchard?’’ asked Katie.

  ‘‘No, if that combination’s there, they hid it good. Doesn’t matter. I don’t need the deed. It’d just make it easier, that’s all. And I’ll get into that safe one way or another.’’

  ‘‘Are you . . . are you going to take Rosewood away from me, Uncle Burchard?’’ asked Katie timidly, but being pretty blunt at the same time.

  He turned and looked at her as if the question was ridiculous.

  ‘‘I’m not going to take it away from anyone,’’ he said. ‘‘It belongs to me because of what happened to your pa and ma. You’re underage and I’m the nearest kin. Ain’t you got it through your head yet—Rosewood is mine. Or at least it will be in sixty days. That’s why I’m telling you to get rid of all these coloreds.’’

  ‘‘Why do you want to find that deed?’’

  ‘‘Because I want to make sure everything’s done legal so the likes of you don’t grow up and marry some Northern lawyer who thinks he can file some claim against me ten years from now, that’s why!’’

  Her uncle’s harsh tone finally broke down Katie’s defenses and she started to cry.

  ‘‘But . . . but why do you have to take Rosewood, Uncle Burchard?’’ she asked. ‘‘You have a place of your own . . . why can’t you just let us all stay here? We’re not bothering anyone.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’ he laughed, again as if what Katie had asked was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. ‘‘Because it’s mine. What other reason do I need than that! Do you actually expect me to let a houseful of brats stay rent free in a plantation that will add thousands of dollars to my income? If you keep on with notions like that, I might not even let you stay.’’

  He turned and walked out the door and was gone. We didn’t see him for another week.

  At about this same time, though we didn’t know anything about it, someone in Charlotte had heard about the scheme of the two Shenandoah County girls. I don’t know how. I doubt Mrs. Hammond’s influence extended quite that far. But however they found out, they did, and a small article about it appeared in the newspaper. Maybe Jeremiah had been right, and we were the most famous people in Greens Crossing!

  And after that, one at a time a few newspapers in the North picked up the story about us too. Of course, we didn’t find out about this until much later.

  All we were thinking about was why Papa hadn’t come back yet. We needed him now more than ever. We were in trouble!

  THE LUMP IN ALETA’ S HEART

  10

  ONE DAY I CAME UPON ALETA SITTING BY HERSELF out behind the barn. She was unusually quiet and was just sitting there staring down at the ground. One of the dogs, Rusty, lay sleeping next to her, but Aleta hardly seemed to notice him and wasn’t petting him like she usually did. As I looked at her face, I had the idea she’d been crying.

  I went over and sat down beside her. She didn’t even look up.
r />   ‘‘What are you thinking about?’’ I asked after a bit.

  ‘‘My mama and daddy,’’ she said softly.

  ‘‘What about them?’’

  ‘‘I was wondering if my daddy knows about Mama.’’

  ‘‘No way he could, is there?’’ I said.

  ‘‘I suppose not.’’

  Again it was quiet for a minute or two.

  ‘‘I miss my mama,’’ said Aleta.

  ‘‘I miss mine too,’’ I said.

  ‘‘You’re lucky . . . you’ve got a nice papa.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure your papa has nice things about him too.’’

  ‘‘I don’t know what. He was mean.’’

  ‘‘No man is perfect. No father is perfect.’’

  ‘‘But your daddy’s nice.’’

  ‘‘He’s done some bad things, though,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Like what?’’ she said, glancing up at me with a puzzled expression on her face.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ I answered. ‘‘But that’s what he’s doing now, trying to take care of some of those things he did that he regrets now.’’

  ‘‘Take care of them—what do you mean?’’

  ‘‘Making them right, however he has to. I think he’s going to pay some money back to some people. Maybe he’s going to apologize . . . I don’t know, he didn’t tell me. But everybody’s got things in their life they’ve got to make right one day or another.’’

  I half expected Aleta to get up and walk away. She was a pretty smart girl and I figured she knew what I was getting at and wouldn’t want to listen, like when Katie had tried to talk to her after Reverend Hall’s visit. But this time she didn’t take offense but just sat there. I had the feeling things were starting to get inside her in a new way. Maybe she was finally ready to listen to some things she needed to hear.

  It was quiet a moment and then I got up my gumption to press a little harder and see how ready she really was. ‘‘You remember when the minister came out visiting a while back?’’ I asked.

  Aleta nodded.

  ‘‘You remember what he said about your papa?’’