Promise Bridge Part 7

I sighed and turned from the window when a surprising sight caught my eye and made me pull my drapes wider. It was Livie skipping up the hill from her cabin below. I never saw her filled with such lightness, and though I could not hear her, I could see by the lilt of her mouth that she was singing. She waved happily at three Runians carrying a barrel filled with cider meant for the festivity below. Livie had been out since midday, helping Esther Mae with some ch.o.r.es, so I could not imagine what had her feeling so gay. When she reached the front yard, she hesitated to smooth her dress and temper the smile on her face before heading into the house. In a few short moments, she was tapping on my bedroom door and letting herself in.

"Sorry I was gone such a spell. I was helpin' 'em make applesauce and hominy fo' the shuckin' feast."

I saw my perplexed gaze reflected in Livie's eyes. "How come you is so down-spirited, girl? Shuckin' day is grand times, Hannah, even ol' Ma.s.sa left shuckin' day to his coloreds."

"I guess I fail to understand what is so special about another day of work. I see those mounds of corn growing out there. By the time I leave tomorrow, those piles will be nearly as high as the window of my room. I cannot imagine getting excited over all those ears waiting to be shucked and cribbed."

"Girl, I never knowed a soul who didn't think shuckin' day was fo' feelin' fine," Livie said, with a girlish clap of her hands. Then as if the whole of what I said penetrated her giddiness, Livie looked at the open trunk in the corner, then back at me. Her bright face drained gray.

"Did you say you is leavin' tomorr'y? Where is you goin', Hannah?"

When I heard the panic in her voice, I realized how much I dreaded going away. Livie and I had yet to spend a day apart since she came to Hillcrest, and for the first time in my life, I would miss and worry over something I left behind. Someone Someone I left behind. Livie's wide eyes reflected the same anxiety. I left behind. Livie's wide eyes reflected the same anxiety.

I reached for Livie's hand. "I travel with Aunt Augusta to Roanoke this time of year. We shall be gone for only a week . . . two at the most." My forced enthusiasm and rea.s.surance were unconvincing, even to me.

Livie squeezed my hands tight in hers and struggled to speak. Finally, she said hoa.r.s.ely, "But I don't want you to go."

"Everything will be fine, Livie. I saw how happy you were skipping up the hill earlier. You and the Runians will celebrate your joyous occasion."

"Joy ain't never come knockin' on my door," she said, wilted. "It ain't joy that makes us laugh and sing round the shuckin' fires. It's jes' a time when Ma.s.sa pays no mind to us fo' a spell. Can't help but smile because shuckin' day brings thoughts of Marcus, Mama, and t'others ticklin' over me, but it sorrows me a mite too, missin' them like I do. I wish you was gonna be around, is all."

Livie was inviting me into a part of her life that until now had remained out of reach in the shadowed corners of Mud Run. I sensed it would lead me into the pained cracks and creva.s.ses of her heart as well. I was honored and terrified at the same time. Livie was offering me another thread to sew between us, and I was not about to let it unravel by letting go.

"I will feign illness," I said, to her delight. "As it is, Aunt Augusta believes me fragile as a flower, so fooling her shan't be difficult."

We buried our faces in the feathered pillows to contain our squeals. Then we rolled over on our backs and breathed a sigh of relief. Livie took my hand with ease. The gesture reminded me how far we had come.

"Guess crazy crazy don't know no difference 'tween colored and white," Livie said with half a grin. don't know no difference 'tween colored and white," Livie said with half a grin.

"I never knew the same could be said of friends.h.i.+p," I said proudly. "But look at us."

Livie propped on her elbows and creased her brow with serious intent. "We gots'ta be careful all the way round. Marcus always says a hateful heart can beat in colored and white alike. Skin don't make n.o.body all right or all wrong. We is goin' against the grain, and trouble can come at us from any which way."

The distant rhythm of warmhearted spirituals rose through the trees of Mud Run, but the caution of Livie's words s.h.i.+vered within me. I was naive in many things, but of this, I was not.

Chapter 12.

"Come on, we gots'ta go!" Livie threw back my quilts and dragged me across the darkened room. She tossed a pillow against the baseboard of the far wall, then planted her hand on top of my night bonnet and pushed my head down between my knees.

"Livie, what has gotten into you?" I sputtered in disbelief.

She pushed my head lower and whispered, "Hush up, Hannah. Jes' put yo' head on the pillow and kick yo' feet up befo' it's too late!"

In a tangle of arms and legs, and before I could let loose another word, there I was, upside down like a child, using my long, exposed legs to steady me in a headstand against the wall. Livie quickly gathered the hem of my nightgown, which was heaped around my head on the floor, and tied it together up around my ankles. Then off she ran to the bedroom door. She pressed her hand and an ear against its smoothness, and waited for the sound of footsteps. The pressure of blood flowing to my overturned head made my eyes throb heavily in their sockets. Finally, when dizziness and impatience made evident our actions were downright foolery, I allowed myself a grumble.

"I hope this is a bizarre nightmare, Liv, because if this is really happening, you are completely out of your mind."

A chuckle tumbled through the darkness. "I ain't the one standin' on my head," she hushed wryly. We both giggled until I noticed from my upside-down view the glow of lamplight approaching my bedroom door. The illuminated outline of Livie's silhouette scampered toward me.

"Hurry, Hannah! She's comin'!" Livie toppled me over and pulled me to my feet. With my head spinning and my nightgown still tied around my ankles, I hopped across the room and onto the bed. Livie yanked the blankets up under my chin, then darted to the washbasin. Then, as smooth as a night crawler slipping into the earth, she twirled a moist cloth through the water in my basin and folded it across my forehead just as Aunt Augusta creaked opened the door and entered the room. She moved toward me in expressionless silence. At my bedside, she touched the wick of her lamp to the candle on my bed table, and a fiery glow rose around us.

"Livetta says you have taken ill."

"Yas'sum, Miz 'Gusta," Livie cajoled as she straightened the cloth on my brow. "She been tossin' and turnin' all night."

"I am speaking to Hannalore," Aunt Augusta said with a bite of reprimand. "Go downstairs and a.s.sist Esther Mae with my belongings."

Offering a dutiful nod, Livie walked away, glancing over her shoulder long enough to give me a sideways smile and encouraging shake of her head. Her display of confidence bolstered my courage as Aunt Augusta leaned close to my face.

"You do appear flushed and a bit gla.s.sy-eyed. Perhaps I should postpone our trip and send word to Lows Hollow for Dr. Waverly to come at once."

"Such a fuss is not necessary. It's just one of my silly spells. I am sure it will pa.s.s with a day or two of bed rest."

"Well, I suppose there is no point in dragging you all the way to Roanoke just to lie in a sickbed. But I detest being here during the mindless commotion that will be in full fas.h.i.+on by nightfall." Aunt Augusta shook her head. "I have always contended that this festivity centered on the shucking of corn is nothing more than a frivolous allowance with no respectable purpose. Still, the tradition brings focus and enthusiasm to the completion of a major ch.o.r.e. However, I prefer not to bear witness to it."

"There is no need for you to stay, Aunt Augusta. Livie will see to it I have what I need."

Aunt Augusta mulled over my suggestion. "If I go, you must be firm with Livetta, or she'll be carrying on with the Runians. Her duties are here with you. In fact, I shall instruct Esther Mae to keep watch over you as well."

"As you say, Aunt Augusta."

It was daybreak when I finally heard her coach rumble up to the house. Twitch grunted for Winston to load Aunt Augusta's trunks onto the back. With the snap of the reins and a harsh "Gad'dup," "Gad'dup," they were on their way. I slipped from my bed and peeked through my window dressings to enjoy the sight of the coach rolling over the crest of the far hill. No sooner was it gone from view when Livie burst through the door. they were on their way. I slipped from my bed and peeked through my window dressings to enjoy the sight of the coach rolling over the crest of the far hill. No sooner was it gone from view when Livie burst through the door.

"You ready fo' your first shuckin' day?" She grinned.

I was touched by the excitement s.h.i.+ning in her eyes. She came to me and wrapped me in a grateful embrace. "I know this don't seem proper, but I sure is glad you is here. Now, you best crawl back into bed for a spell while I help Esther Mae and t'others. It's gonna be a late night!" With that, she planted a kiss on each of my cheeks and waved good-bye.

I dozed beneath the warmth of my covers until calls of laughter through a brilliant morning pulled me from my bed. The strange, offbeat nature of the day was apparent the moment I looked down across the lawn and saw the Runians milling about the grounds. Most carried bundles or buckets. However, their steps were relaxed and casual, not frenzied or fetching in the way I generally observed them. They dotted the landscape in every direction from Mud Run to the distant hillside of West Gate. All were seemingly drawn to the stretch of lowland between the two plantations where the three towering mounds of harvested ears of corn lay in wait for shucking. Threads of smoke twirled from several cook fires tended by a group of Runians under the watchful eye of Granny Morgan. Enthralled, I did not notice the tap against my bedroom door until Livie appeared behind me. She rushed over, pitcher in hand, to fill my washbasin with warm water.

"Shake a leg, girl. You better let Esther Mae feed you befo' she gets called away to the fires. There's lots o' cookin' to be done down there. My mouth is a-waterin' at the scent of ham hocks and greens warm in the pot."

"My goodness, Livie, you are more excited for a day focused on a monumental task than I am for the holiday ball Aunt Augusta hosts every Christmas Eve."

In practiced motion, Livie gathered my hair in one hand and dipped a washcloth into the basin. The warm cloth soothed me as she ran it down the back of my neck and across my shoulders as she spoke. "Well, sc.r.a.p meat and castoff pickin's might not please a belly used to roasted turkey with fancy dressing, but they is indeed a blessed feast compared to the corn pones and hominy we usually sc.r.a.pe from our pots night after night, never no different."

Feeling a bit p.r.i.c.kly, I shot back, "I always make certain you have a good meal, either by leftover or smuggling extra from the table. I cannot understand why you are so stubborn about refusing my care. I think you are ashamed of my affection for you. As if you are somehow better off with sc.r.a.ps from a slave table instead of enjoying what I share from mine. Have I not tried to ease your burdens?"

"Of course you have, Hannah, 'cuz you favor me," Livie said, her eyes wide with unguarded honesty. "And I appreciates it mighty. But it don't make it easy fo' me to walk among the others, them knowin' I have more than I should. You is extra careful so that what you give me doesn't cause yo' people to rise up against you. I gots'ta do the same about the gettin'. I remember what it feels like to be a field slave. Ma.s.sa worked us from when we can't see in the mornin' to when we can't see at night. I respects my people too much to strut about like the shade of the big house makes me worth more than them."

"Is that why you settled in Mud Run rather than sleep here on the trundle bed, as you did when you first came to Hillcrest?"

"It's best fo' me to live in the quarters 'cuz it's where I belong. There is mighty fine things up here on the hill, especially the soft heart beatin' right here in front o' me, but my my life ain't in the big house. No matter how much affection you heap on me when n.o.body is lookin', I's still jes' an outsider." life ain't in the big house. No matter how much affection you heap on me when n.o.body is lookin', I's still jes' an outsider."

"After all this time, how can you feel like an outsider with me? I declare, Livie, when you say such things, it makes me think I don't know you at all."

"Now, don't get a sulk on, Hannah." She nudged playfully. "After today, I expect you'll know me a whole lot better."

I finally made it down to the kitchen after Livie suggested I change from my rose flounced dress into something less standoffish. So I redressed in my favorite garibaldi skirt and cotton blouse given to me by Colt the previous Christmas. Aunt Augusta forbade me to wear it, citing poor taste. On the handful of occasions her absence allowed me to pull it from the back of my wardrobe closet, I relished seeing a modestly attractive woman, shed of inhibitions, reflected back at me from my looking gla.s.s.

In the kitchen, Esther Mae had a cup of hot tea and a dish of bread pudding for me on the table. I seldom instructed my meals to be served in the dining room when Aunt August was away, unless, of course, Colt or Uncle Mooney joined me. She greeted me in a detached tone as she gazed out the window. "Granny's gone down over de hill. I can fry you up some ham and griddle cakes, if it suits you."

"The bread pudding will do, Esther Mae," I said, settling across the table from Livie. "You can go join the others if you like."

Esther Mae's forlorn expression turned to me. "Chile, Miz 'Gusta gave me strict orders to stay here and watch over you mornin', noon, and night. Ain't gonna be no shuckin' time fo' me."

Disappointment and sorrow dripped in Esther Mae's words and gave me my first enlightened glimpse at the separateness Livie mentioned with regard to the house slaves. Winston and Elijah were down with the Runians, while Esther Mae could only watch from afar.

I lifted the kettle to warm my tea. "Go be with your family, Esther Mae. I am fine here on my own."

"Don't talk crazy, Miz Hannah. You is sick and need lookin' after. Now, let me fill yo' cup proper." I gently intercepted Esther Mae's hand as it reached for the kettle and I held it in mine. She flinched at my touch and stepped back in embarra.s.sment.

"I am not sick, Esther Mae, and I see no need for you to guard over me like a mama bear."

"What'chu mean you ain't sick? Miz 'Gusta says . . ."

"Aunt Augusta believes I am not well, but she is mistaken. I feel splendid."

"But Miz 'Gusta told me . . ."

"Don't be concerned about Aunt Augusta. She is not here and will know nothing of it. Now abide by my wish for you to join in the activity below."

Esther Mae's lips parted, although nothing but befuddled silence came of it. She s.h.i.+fted slowly, like she was waiting for something to drop from the ceiling and knock some sense into me. Leaning wide, she looked to Livie in blank wonder. When Livie giggled and shook her head with a.s.surance, Esther Mae let out a whoop and tossed her ap.r.o.n into the air.

"Miz Hannah, the two of you is crazier than a couple of headless guinea hens fresh off the choppin' block. But a notion meant for the good of a colored only comes along about as often as a star fallin' from the sky, so I's not gonna let this one pa.s.s by without grabbin' on." Esther Mae hustled out the back door. "Livetta, come help me carry these mola.s.ses jars down yonder. We gonna have fine times after all!"

The congregation of slaves from the two plantations combined with slaves given pa.s.ses from the Garrett and Fredrickson plantations to our south. Three wagons rolled in from Echo Ridge, bringing a small group of slaves owned or hired by townsmen. Voices rose from the wagons as they neared. The spirituals they sang joined with words chanted by those walking to greet them. I had never witnessed a gathering of coloreds without a white presence standing watch.

In spite of the December chill, the afternoon suns.h.i.+ne warmed me as I moved from the front porch and moseyed across the front yard. I paused nonchalantly by the fence to steal a closer look. As the last of the wagons pulled in, the dark faces came to life and shed the sallow hardness earned in the fields. Granny Morgan's hearty laughter rose above all as Winston helped Mabelle, Granny's beloved sister, off the buckboard. The reunited sisters walked arm in arm to the cook fires, where benches and bales of hay formed a makes.h.i.+ft sitting area. Women of all ages talked and sang while ears of corn were shucked clean, put in baskets, and dumped into ox carts to be cribbed. The group was divided into teams and began cheering a race to see whose baskets emptied first. Granny and Mabelle sat together amid the commotion, twisting discarded husks into brooms and horse collars. I don't recall ever seeing Granny's face so soft with pleasure.

As the day's shadows grew long, a row of wooden planks were lined across the damp mud of the lowland, inviting scattered dancers into a closer circle. Rhythmic and entrancing, their movements acted out the words of songs I occasionally heard from the fields or chanted back and forth in town. The spirituals, which usually dripped with heart-wrenching despair, were now sung as a chorus of earnest confession and promise, as though they were speaking to G.o.d in a language all their own.

Livie waved to me from beneath a large basket balanced skillfully on her head. I waved back, and once the basket was emptied, she handed it off to one of Mr. Richardson's mulatto girls and dashed up the hillside toward me.

"Didn't 'spect to be gone so long," she said, swatting away some of the corn dust speckled down the front of her wool frock. "Jes' wanted to do my part before comin' to fetch you."

"Fetch me?"

She reached for my hand. "If you want to know me, right and complete, then you gots'ta see me outside the big house." Her cool hand was cracked and smudged with blood. A torn blister swelled the inside pad of her thumb, but Livie paid it no mind. She clenched my hand and tugged me toward her.

"I can see fine from here, Livie. Go on and have your fun."

"Fun? Does this look like fun?" she mused, holding up her other palm, which was tightly wrapped in a soiled rag to protect its raw, reddened paleness.

"But you all look so happy."

"Shuckin' day is a time fo' doin' Ma.s.sa's work our own way, without no overseer or headmen drivin' and las.h.i.+n' at us with whips. What you see ain't fun, it's jes' us folk makin' best of the bad. We ain't ever given no better than that. At the end o' the day, it still be Ma.s.sa's work. The shuckin' feast don't change that none."

"All the more reason for me not to . . ." I sputtered, my fumbling tongue exposing my nervousness. "Not to intrude."

"Can't see how you could be intrudin' when the land beneath our feet is yorn."

"What I mean is, I imagine the Runians would think me out of place wandering among them."

Livie's left eyebrow arched halfway up her forehead. "No more out o' place than I feel every day up at the big house." Slowly, her face slacked with resigned acceptance, which troubled me, because my attempt at explanation had left her with the wrong impression. My hesitation was not the result of distaste, but rather from unmitigated fear. Uncle Mooney often professed that the slave population as a whole could not be trusted, and any one of them would slice the throat of a white man, woman, or child if given the chance. For the most part, I dismissed Uncle Mooney's rants as peac.o.c.kish sermons fueled by his indulgence in apple brandy, but to my dismay, the impact of those absorbed opinions weakened my knees. Livie lowered her head, fingering the sores on her hands and perhaps wondering if we had uprooted differences we could not ignore. She kept her eyes from mine, releasing me from any challenge or disappointment she could not mask. It shamed me as I faced the hurt feelings of a dear friend. Even worse, Livie's posture s.h.i.+fted as though she were a conforming slave girl stepping back in obedience. With that, I cast off my unfounded fears and moved quickly to repair the damage caused by my hesitation.

"Thank you for inviting me today," I said, slipping my arm around Livie's elbow and nudging her with apologetic tenderness. "It means the world to me-really. Please forgive my nervousness. I truly did not mean to imply mistrust. Sometimes the unknown is a bit scary, and to be truthful, I am not sure the Runians even like me. I guess it never occurred to me until this moment."

"I understand bein' scared of what you don't know, Hannah. Remember how jittery I was up in the ol' cave when Marcus tol' me he was leavin' me behind? But you stood by me and made sure no bad came to me. It was hard at first, but I growed to trust you. So don't be scared none, even if you get to feelin' peculiar with some folk. I won't let no harm come to you. Do you trust me?"

"You are my friend, Livie. Of course I trust you," I declared proudly, and prayed that my sincere conviction made amends for my earlier lapse.

I linked my arm in hers and let her lead me down the hill, away from Hillcrest and into a world I knew only from afar, framed like an oil painting in my bedroom window. As we stepped through the first line of trees that bordered Mud Run, my eyes and ears were awash with activities and sounds so rich, the portrait I held jumped from its canvas and burst alive.

Each clapboard cabin I pa.s.sed stood bare and simple, with a modest stack of firewood and a mildew-stained rain barrel. The slaves moved with an ease of step I was not accustomed to seeing, and no doubt came from being beyond the watch and demand pressed on them by their overseers. They talked and joked with one another as they went about their business, their voices warm and lyrical. The scent of smoked venison flavored the air as women in ap.r.o.ns filled with carrots and potatoes bustled by in pairs toward the large cook fires crackling in the clearing. Between the two cabins nearest us, a handful of pickaninnies in worn, ill-fitting s.h.i.+rttails crouched in a circle, playing with marbles and wooden pegs.

"Lawd have mercy, Miz Hannah, what'chu doin' down this way?" Winston said, pus.h.i.+ng a wheelbarrow piled with split logs "Livetta, you get her on back up the hill now, ya hear? This ain't no rightful place fo' Miz Hannah."

"I am here of my own choosing, Winston."

Winston settled the wheelbarrow on the ground, then reached up under the back of his felt hat to scratch his head. He gave me an amused wink from under the brim of his hat. Some may have thought it an inappropriate gesture, but I knew it was Winston's amiable way of sealing the secret between us. He readjusted his hat and hoisted the barrow back onto its wooden wheel.

"Well, that's a whole 'nother story den, Miz Hannah." As he heaved his load back in motion and headed for the gathering by the fires, Winston shook his head and chuckled. "Don't that beat all. Somewhere, Miz 'Gusta is pitchin' a big ol' fit, none the wiser that her fussin' is seeded and sprinkled right here in Mud Run."

I was not offended by his forthright humor, because I could indeed picture Aunt Augusta bristling with agitation brought on by instinctive awareness of something, somewhere being out of order. I was quite grateful the group surrounding me had as much reason as I to keep Aunt Augusta in the dark about my journey below. And so began another day in the year of my awakening.

Livie took hold of my wrist and led me to where the fires roared. The sea of dark faces parted to let us pa.s.s. Some nodded respectfully, while others turned away, not wanting to engage me. Puzzled stares came at me from every direction, and if not for Livie's firm grip on my arm, I would have turned on my heels and retreated from the whispered exchanges pa.s.sing from one to the other. I held a delicate smile on my face so tightly, it felt branded in place. Any superior air I may have carried at other times surely dissipated as I lowered my head self-consciously.

Still, Livie tugged me along, undeterred by the dampened effect my appearance had on the mumbling crowd. My heart lightened when we came upon the Runians with whom I was better acquainted.

"Good afternoon, Esther Mae." I lit up as she paused with an ap.r.o.n piled heavy with corncobs.

"Land sakes, Miz Hannah! Do you need somethin' up at the big house? I'll fetch it fo' you rightly."

"No, thank you kindly, Esther Mae. I was simply drawn to the music. I come with no directives or expectations."

She c.o.c.ked her head in doubt, then relaxed into a smile. "Jes' when I thinks I seen it all, the two of you show up here." Esther Mae looked at me in a way she never had: warmly and directly in the eye. Her gracious nod revealed an earnest soul who harbored no ill will. Holding tight to her load, she made a broad stroke with her free hand. "Well, then, Miz Hannah, welcome to the Run." Esther Mae's acceptance seemed to signal the others to accept, or at least tolerate, me as well. As she joined the shuckers sitting on the haystacks, a sigh of relief was breathed by all.

Old Joe, one of Uncle Mooney's hog slaughterers, resumed his tune on the gourd fiddle, coaxing the revelry back into the crisp December air. Before long, a few of the young girls broke from their labor and took to the dance floor with rhythmic stomping that had me clapping along with the crowd.

"There!" Livie shouted over the music. She pointed over to the hay bales where Granny Morgan waved us over. The bales were lined and layered like choir benches along the south side of the blacksmith quarters. It was a building unseen from my window, with the exception of its wood-s.h.i.+ngled roof, and it stood nearly as large as the carriage house. James emerged from the side entrance with a la.s.so looped over his broad shoulder. As he walked past us, he tugged the brim of his hat and nodded, first to me, then to Livie. Her eyes instantly gleamed with pleasure.

"Ain't he a fine sight?" she oozed as she watched him walk off through the crowd. "Folks down here think he's a mite peculiar, 'cuz he's so quiet and inside hisself."