A Picture of Freedom

by Patricia C. McKissack

  Aunt Tee been so sad since she been turned out of the kitchen. I would do anything to help make her laugh and be happy again. I guess that’s why I did a very foolish thing. I went down to her cabin to visit. After we’d talked, I used a stick to scratch writing on the dirt floor. C is for CAT.

  Before I could blink my eye, Aunt Tee had slapped me so hard I had to hold on to the table to keep from tobbling over. Miz Lilly aine never hit me that hard. She rubbed out the letters with her foot. At last, my head stopped swimming and the spots before my eyes cleared up. There wasn’t no anger in Aunt Tee’s eyes, only fear.

  “Do you know what happen to slaves the mas’er finds out got learnin’?” she whispered sternly.

  I knew they got beaten, or much worse they got sold to the Deep South. I couldn’t make her understand that I was trusting her. I knew she wouldn’t tell on me.

  “I don’t wanna be trusted,” Aunt Tee say, near tears. “Look at what trust got me. I b’lieved Mas’ Henley would do right by me, ’cause I’d done right by him. Not so. Look at me now. Trusting got me here. Who teached you, chile?”

  I was scared to say — and real sorry I’d told her about any of it. I decided to hold back on all the truth. “I teached myself just a few words.”

  Aunt Tee sucked in her breath and clicked her teeth. Her face was clouded over with worry. “Don’t bring trouble to yo’ own front door,” she say, biting her lip, the way she did when she was real worried. “Don’t you tell another living soul that you got this little piece of knowing. You hear me?”

  Never have I been more sure of anything. I will not tell another person my secret ever.

  After study time — Monday, September 12, 1859

  Now Mr. Harms is on to something! And I brought the trouble to my own front door.

  He and William was reading a play together. As usual I was standing behind them, fanning — up and down, up and down — and reading over their shoulders. William got stuck on the word “circumstances.” I was so taken by the story, I plum forgot where I was. Suddenly, my mouth got ahead of my thoughts and I blurted out the first part of the word. “Cir —” I caught myself, but not soon enough.

  Mr. Harms jerked around and looked at me — his mouth dropped open a little, like he was surprised. “What did you say?”

  “Cir — yes, sir? Yes. Sir is what I said. Sir. Sir? May I go, please?” I was thinking fast — Lord let me get out of this.

  Mr. Harms looked down at the book, then he looked back up at me and where I was standing. He told me I could go, but asked my name. He knows — he knows! Lord! Lord! What’s going to happen to me?

  Wednesday, September 14, 1859

  I guess I was wrong about Mr. Harms being on to me. He aine said a thing, and I’m still fanning during lessons. I let up writing for a few days, ’cause I’ve been too scared to go near the hiding spot, what with Missy slipping around, and maybe Mr. Harms is on to something.

  Thursday, September 15, 1859

  Spicy looks tired when she comes in from the fields. But she says the tobacco don’t slap you in the face, and call you all hours of the night, and send you to do this or that. Spicy likes the fields better than working in the Big House.

  Missy likes the Big House. She’s struck by all the sparkle and pretty of the Mas’er’s house. She go around touching things, and oohing and aahing over it all. She so busy looking at stuff, she gets careless. I have to redo some of her work sometimes to keep us both out of trouble.

  When I show her where she’s made a mistake, Missy gets mad and starts yelling at me all hateful. “You just think you cute. Make me sick — all the time trying to talk all proper-like. You’re just a skinny, little thing, so don’t come trying to say I’m stupid.” I never say she’s stupid, even though I think it. And I don’t try to talk proper-like.

  Then before the evening is over good, she’s back trying to be friends with me again. She always asking me a lot of questions about Hince. I know how to get back at Missy, though. I say, “Why don’t you ask Spicy.” It’s hard to b’lieve we was ever friends. Missy bears watching.

  Monday, September 19, 1859

  Apple harvest time is almost over. The tall men been knocking apples and then we gathered them. I got to sort with the grown women this year — putting the big, the middle, and the little apples in barrels. It aine the work I like — but I love to hear the women telling stories, remembering. I really like it when they tell a story ’bout my mama.

  Tuesday, September 20, 1859

  I’ve found a good hiding place for my diary in the hollow of a tree, just beyond the orchard. I feel safer coming here. My hiding place behind the kitchen was getting too dangerous. I sure miss the way things used to be when Uncle Heb was alive and Aunt Tee ran the kitchen. They were far less troublesome times than these are now.

  Later the same day

  After the last meal, Missy said to me all syrupy sweet, “We been friends for a long, long time, but I don’t know you.”

  What was that supposed to mean? She knew me, sure.

  “I know your name,” she say, “and that you favor cornbread over biscuits. You’ll take red color over green color, and you like being off by yourself. But I don’t know you, Clotee. Like what makes you happy or what makes you cry? You’re not like the others. You’re different. What makes you different?”

  I’d heard those words before. Miz Lilly had told me I was different, and she’d sent Missy digging for a bone.

  “Friends share secrets,” she say all friendly and nice. “Do you have one you want to share with me?”

  “No,” I said and got away from her as fast as I could. Missy is a tattler, sent straight from Miz Lilly. I know it.

  Wednesday, September 21, 1859

  I wish I could read Mr. Harms as easy as I can read Missy and Eva Mae. There’s something ’bout Mr. Harms that sets me to wondering. He looks perculiar, and he acts perculiar, so people don’t pay close attention to him. They don’t see him all the time watching, taking in everything that’s being said and done. But I do.

  Just a minute ago, I saw Mr. Harms standing at the edge of the orchard, looking toward the woods and beyond the river. Just looking. Made me nervous — my diary being just a few feet from where he was standing. Maybe I need to move it again.

  Aunt Tee and I have not spoke about my learning since I told her. Spicy put in that she’d seen Mr. Harms watching them working in the fields. Just looking, saying nothing, just watching them work.

  Monday, September 26, 1859

  I brought my pallet to sleep outside. The stars are so bright, I can almost hear them tinkling. But tonight I heard Rufus singing — his beautiful voice riding on the night wind.

  Steal away

  Steal away

  Steal away home …

  Was that Mr. Harms I just seen heading for the Quarters? I wonder who he be visiting this hour of the night? Oh well, white men sometimes visit the Quarters in the dark of night, when their wives and mothers aine watching. I’m surprised. Mr. Harms don’t ’pear to be that kind of man.

  Tuesday, September 27, 1859

  Miz Lilly left this morning to visit her daughter Clarissa in Richmond. She goes every September. She’ll be gone for several good weeks. These are always happy days for us who work in the Big House.

  She usually takes William. And she’d promised to take me this year. But William flat wouldn’t go this time. And for some reason, she took Missy instead. Good. I’ll get a rest from the both of them. I’m staying with Spicy and Aunt Tee the whole time, even though Eva Mae promises to tell when Miz Lilly gets back.

  Friday, September 30, 1859

  Miz Lilly’s gon’. Mas’er went sporting — will be gone until Monday. William is home, but he’s in his room sleeping. Mr. Harms is asleep, too. Belmont is a big play house when everybody’s gone.

  Spicy and me slipped up to Miz Lilly’s bedroom. We put on her jewelry and scarves and hats. We sat at her desk where there is all kinds of pretty paper, and pens a
nd ink a-plenty. I took enough to last me a good while.

  We heard a noise outside in the yard. At first I thought it might be one of the dogs or a raccoon. We quick-like jumped out of the bed and ran to the window.

  We seen Rufus come slipping from tree to tree then turn toward the Quarters. We figured he’d been out possum hunting. But, a little later, I seen Mr. Harms creeping out from the other side of the woods. We watched as he stole from shadow to shadow until he reached the house and stepped inside. We held our breath until we heard his footsteps pass the door and go down the hall to his room.

  We quietly cleaned up, put everything in its place, and left Miz Lilly’s bedroom just the way we found it.

  What were Mr. Harms and Rufus doing out in the woods together so late at night?

  Monday, October 3, 1859

  I’ve been staying with Aunt Tee down in the Quarters. She takes care of Baby Noah and the other children that cain’t work yet. When Wook came to get the baby, we got a chance to visit. She aine seen her husband but twice since they got married. Seems he loved another girl from his own plantation and wanted to marry her. Wook has changed a lot. She looks so sad all the time.

  I told her how Missy was acting, and she said she wasn’t surprised. “Missy has always been for Missy — selfish.” When we was growing up, I never knew that side of her, but Wook did. “If I got something, she wanted it, no matter how small it was. She’s put out at me ’cause I got married first. She coulda got married ahead of me and I wouldn’t a-cared at all.”

  Later, it was like old times in Aunt Tee’s cabin. We sang, told stories, and Spicy and me even got to work on our quilt.

  Tuesday, October 4, 1859

  Mr. Harms fussed at William about saying ’cause instead of because. I learned it, too.

  Later I took Hince his meal down at the stables. We talked for a good while. Him and me talking is fun. The words just pop right out of my head without me thinking on them long. “You ever think of running away?”

  He studied on that for a spell. “Sometimes.”

  “What would you do if you was free?”

  “I figures, if I be a free man, I could hire myself out as a jockey. I’d bet on myself and win and win and win, ’til I had ’nuf money to buy all of y’als freedom — Spicy, Aunt Tee, you, Clotee. That’s what I would do.”

  When nobody was looking I wrote F-R-E-E-D-O-M in flour. It still don’t show me no picture.

  Later the same day

  True to her word, Eva Mae told Mas’ Henley that I’d been staying in the Quarters with Aunt Tee instead of in the kitchen. He spoke to me about it when we served him the last meal.

  “Aunt Tee is like my mama,” I said. “I’d like to stay with her.”

  “You want to stay down in the Quarters with Aunt Tee? Well, what does your mistress say about this?”

  “I haven’t asked her.”

  “When she comes home, ask her. See what she says. I’ll go along with what she says. You’re one of her favorites.”

  Me? I never thought of myself as being favored by Miz Lilly, unless she wanted something from me.

  Wednesday, October 5, 1859

  Mas’ Henley pitched a red-in-the-face fit ’bout Eva Mae’s fried chicken. He called it tasteless slop! Serves him right.

  Thursday, October 6, 1859

  Tonight Spicy took me by the hand and led me to a hollowed out tree. My heart sank when I realized that it was the tree where my diary was hid. Had she found my diary? All of a sudden, Spicy blurted out that she had a book. To prove it, she reached in and pulled out a Bible. My diary was just inches away. “I’ve wanted to tell you this forever, but I been scared,” she said.

  Spicy had a Bible that had been her mama’s. “My mama could read and write,” said Spicy. Then she told me her mama’s story. It was like others I’d heard. Spicy’s mama tried to run away, but each time she got caught and beat bad. Finally her mas’er say if she ran away she was gon’ get sold. Spicy’s mama learned how to write — took her a while. Spicy was borned and still she kept learning. Then one day, she wrote herself a pass and tried to run again. But a slave who worked in the Big House told the mistress and she got caught. Before they sent Spicy’s mama to the Deep South, she slipped Spicy the Bible.

  “I done kept it all these years,” Spicy said. “I cain’t read a word that’s in it, not yet. One day I will. But even if I don’t ever read, I’ll keep this Bible forever. It is all I have that b’longed to my mama.”

  Spicy hugged the book to her chest. “Nobody in the world knows about this book ’cept’n you. And I trust you won’t tell, ’cause we’re good friends.”

  Should I share my secret with Spicy? Good sense tells me that I shouldn’t. But I want to so, so bad.

  Monday, October 10, 1859

  Mr. Harms came storming into the kitchen, sputtering and making a grand fuss. He made Eva Mae and me stop what we was doing and listen to him.

  “This has come to my attention,” he said, holding up Spicy’s Bible. “If it belongs to one of you, I want to know, now!” His eyes moved from face to face. “Speak,” he shouted.

  He could have saved his breath. Neither one of us owned it.

  “I’m going to report this to Miz Lilly when she returns,” he said.

  “Yes, Mas’ Harms,” said Eva Mae.

  The tutor tucked Spicy’s Bible under his arm. “Come with me, Clotee,” he said. Outside the kitchen, he whispered matter-of-factly. “The view from my room is interesting.” What did he mean by that?

  Tuesday, October 11, 1859

  After breakfast, I slipped into Mr. Harms’ bedroom.

  Standing in the side window, I got a clear view of the woods and especially the tree where my diary and Spicy’s Bible were hidden. Thanks be there were no other bedroom windows at that end of the house.

  What is going on? Mr. Harms knows my secret for sure. He must have seen Spicy and me at the tree when she showed me her Bible. But why didn’t he tell Miz Lilly or Mas’ Henley? I’m beginning to think there is more to this strange man than any of us really knows.

  Later that same night

  My suspections are right. Mr. Harms is not who he seems to be. When I went to move my diary from the hollow of the tree, there was a note fixed to it.

  I know you can read and write.

  Please be careful. I will speak to you soon.

  The note was signed “H” for Harms.

  I hid my diary under my dress and hurried to find Spicy. I didn’t want to put her in the heat of things, but she already was. It broke my heart to tell her that Mr. Harms had found her Bible. But it hurt even worser for Spicy to think I’d tattled on her. Even when I showed her how easy it was for him to see us through his window, she still didn’t b’lieve me. “If that’s true, then why didn’t he tell Mas’ Henley?”

  I had no choice at that point but to ’fess everything. I took a deep breath and showed her my diary and the note Mr. Harms had left. Spicy took me straight to Aunt Tee.

  Daybreak Sunday, October 16, 1859

  The roosters just crowed. Thank God it’s Sunday and not a full workday. Aunt Tee, Spicy, and me sat up all night talking. There are no secrets between us now. I’m glad in a way. In fact, I am writing in my diary right here in Aunt Tee’s cabin. At first, she was ’gainst my learning — but she say now that she was just scared — didn’t want me beaten or sold away. “I will not stand in the way of what might be the Lord’s work being done through you, chile.”

  She even said for me to hide my papers in her cabin. My diary will be safe with her. I worry that I’ve made life unsure for Aunt Tee and Spicy. If they get caught with my papers, we could all be in sinking sand. Maybe Mr. Harms will be able to help. But who is he, really? I got some ideas, but I dare not put voice to them yet.

  Later

  Aunt Tee and Spicy don’t think I should trust Mr. Harms all the way. But he hasn’t done nothing to make me not trust him.

  I have looked at the one-eyed man’s picture ov
er and over. He don’t look at all like Mr. Harms, but for after all that’s been happening, I think Mr. Harms might know the one-eyed man. Mr. Harms isn’t from the Philadelphia, the New York, or the Boston. He’s from Virginia. Can a southern mas’er be an abolitionist? Mr. Harms said in his note that he would speak to me. Maybe I’ll get answers to some of these questions then.

  Monday, October 17, 1859

  “Will you teach me to write my name?” Spicy asked.

  I’ve never really thought about teaching anybody else how to write. I’ve always been the one learning. I used the poker to write letters in the ashes. Spicy and Aunt Tee looked on with wondering eyes. For the first time I been able to share my secret with somebody. I love seeing them smiling at the letters that makes up their names. I feel warm and good inside. What good is knowing if I cain’t never use it to do some good. Spicy made an S. And Aunt Tee made a T. We’ve had our first lesson.

  Tuesday, October 18, 1859

  Mr. Harms knows that I know that he knows I can read and write. But he has not said a word to me about it. Treats me the same as always. When will he speak to me?

  Meanwhile, Miz Lilly aine back yet, so our housework is not as hard, but Mas’ Henley’s been around all week in his study. I couldn’t get ink out. But Aunt Tee helped me make a mixture of charcoal ash and blackberry wine. It makes a good ink until I can do better.