Together is All We Need (12 page)

‘‘That's my own business,'' said Katie. ‘‘If Rosewood is going to be taken away from me, at least I want the money Mayme and I made ourselves. It's ours, Mr. Taylor. I just want to make sure that my uncle doesn't somehow get his hands on it. And we might need it to live on when we have to move away from Rosewood.''

‘‘It was my understanding that you would be staying.''

‘‘I don't know, Mr. Taylor. But I want to withdraw our money . . . all of it.''

The bank manager stared back at Katie for another few seconds. Finally he seemed to realize how serious she was. He sighed and rose again. When he came back three or four minutes later, he was carrying an envelope full of twenty- and ten-dollar bills and some smaller money to make up the total.

‘‘Here it is, Kathleen,'' he said. ‘‘Be careful. This is a great deal of money. Does this mean you want me to close the account for good?''

Katie stood and thought a few seconds as she held the envelope. ‘‘I don't know, Mr. Taylor,'' she said. ‘‘I don't know what's going to happen to me. If we can find somewhere else to live, maybe I'll bring some of it back. Otherwise . . .''

She stopped, realizing she had nothing else to say.

‘‘I just don't know, Mr. Taylor,'' she added. ‘‘You can close the account or leave it open for a while longer, whatever you think best. But I'm sure my uncle will open a new account for Rosewood.''

‘‘Yes . . . yes, of course. He, uh . . . he already has, actually,'' returned the banker, who knew far more about Burchard Clairborne's activities than Katie realized.

‘‘Thank you, Mr. Taylor,'' said Katie, then turned and left the bank. As she went, the few other customers and the rest of the bank people nodded and smiled and a few spoke greetings to her. Suddenly in their eyes, little Katie Clairborne had become a woman, and they could not help feeling admiration for her after what they had heard she had done after the death of her family. Though no one in the town had known the Clairbornes well, they were liked and respected. News of the massacre had stunned everyone who had heard it. That was probably why the newspaper article written about us, which we still knew nothing about, was generating such interest—in other parts of the country even more than in Shenandoah County. And so, except for a few people who were a little annoyed to think that Katie and ‘‘that darkie girl of hers'' had fooled them, most people in Greens Crossing were respectful and kind and spoke to her in a new way that showed how much she had suddenly grown up in their eyes.

Of course, there was one person in town who wasn't about to give Katie the satisfaction of any show of respect. Katie's last stop before coming home was at the general store.

‘‘Hello, Mrs. Hammond,'' she said as she walked in.

‘‘So, you dare show yourself in town,'' said Mrs. Hammond, her nose inching a little higher in the air than usual as she eyed Katie walking toward the counter.

‘‘Yes, ma'am,'' said Katie.

Katie said Mrs. Hammond sniffed a bit and looked Katie over up and down, with her eyes squinting a little.

‘‘And you were lying the whole time,'' Mrs. Hammond went on.

‘‘Yes, ma'am,'' said Katie, looking down.

‘‘I would think you would be ashamed to show your face, deceiving everyone with your poor mama lying there cold in her grave.''

‘‘Yes, ma'am . . . I'm sorry, Mrs. Hammond. I didn't know what else to do. But it doesn't matter now—my uncle's making everybody leave.''

‘‘The way I hear it, only the darkies have to leave.''

‘‘Yes, ma'am. But I can't stay without Mayme.''

‘‘Humph!'' she snorted. ‘‘You mean that ugly one who's always coming in with you?''

Katie didn't say anything. I didn't mind people calling me ugly because they always had. When you grow up colored in a white man's world, you get used to that sort of thing. I just figured all black folks look ugly to whites, except for a few like Emma, who are so pretty nobody could call them ugly. But Katie didn't like her saying it. For a second or two she flared up inside and almost blurted out something that might not have been the kindest thing in the world to say. But then she caught herself and didn't.

‘‘Well, it's no business of mine,'' said Mrs. Hammond, who obviously thought it was, ‘‘but if you ask me, young ladies who aren't grateful for what they've got will come to no good, and you ought to thank your lucky stars that your uncle is being so kind to you as to let you stay.''

‘‘Yes, ma'am.''

‘‘Well, what do you want, Kathleen? I assume you came in for some supplies.''

‘‘Uh . . . no, ma'am,'' said Katie hesitantly.

‘‘What, then . . . what do you want?''

Still Katie hesitated, looking down at the floor.

‘‘I . . . I, uh . . .''

‘‘What is it, girl?'' said Mrs. Hammond, standing staring at her like an impatient schoolmistress. ‘‘Out with it.''

‘‘I wondered, Mrs. Hammond,'' Katie began, ‘‘that is . . . I wanted to ask . . . well, I need a job, you see, if I am going to leave, and . . . do you have any work that I could do for you, Mrs. Hammond?''

‘‘What! You mean . . . for pay?''

‘‘Yes, ma'am.''

Mrs. Hammond began to laugh at the thought of such a thing. ‘‘Certainly not!'' she said. ‘‘You're just a girl, and a lying one at that. Do you honestly think I would trust a girl to work in my store who would as soon steal from my cash box when my back was turned as anything? No, Kathleen, it's out of the question.''

‘‘I would never do that, Mrs. Hammond,'' said Katie softly.

‘‘So you say. But if you would lie, why wouldn't you steal? And you've already admitted to lying, haven't you, Kathleen?''

‘‘Yes, ma'am.''

‘‘Well . . . there you are.''

‘‘Thank you, Mrs. Hammond,'' said Katie in hardly more than a whisper. She turned and hurried from the store with her eyes stinging.

T
HE
A
RTICLE
19

W
HEN
K
ATIE GOT BACK TO ROSEWOOD, SHE
didn't tell us about the money or Mrs. Hammond. The rest of that day, and the next, continued just like it had been—quiet and sad. Katie and I had so
much
to say to each other, we couldn't bring ourselves to say anything. I reckon that's sometimes the way it is, that love itself is too big a thing to be contained in words.

So though our hearts were bursting . . . there was nothing to say. I suppose we knew that if we tried to start talking about it, we'd only start crying.

The next day, which was Wednesday, I went upstairs one time when Katie was out walking somewhere and slowly started packing up a few of my things. I didn't want to save it all until the last minute just in case something happened and Katie's uncle came unexpectedly and we had to leave earlier. And besides, the last minute, which was Friday, was only two days away. So it was high time we were getting ready.

Emma seemed to sense what I was up to. While I was sitting on the bed looking through some of the things Katie had given me, wondering what I should take, I heard a sound and looked up and saw her standing in the doorway.

‘‘What you doin', Mayme?'' she asked.

‘‘I'm just starting to pack up my things, Emma,'' I said. ‘‘You'd best be thinking of what you're going to take too. We'll be leaving day after tomorrow.''

‘‘I been thinkin' 'bout it,'' she said. ‘‘But if I's got ter be luggin' William, I ain't gwine be able ter take nuthin' mo den him.''

‘‘I'll help carry your things,'' I said. ‘‘We don't have much anyway. You and I arrived at Rosewood with nothing but the dresses we were wearing, so I don't reckon we've got any business leaving with much more than that.''

‘‘You think Miz Katie's mind effen I take dose dresses she gib me, an' da nice shoes?''

‘‘No, Emma,'' I said smiling. ‘‘I know Katie will want us to take whatever she's given us. But we can't take more than we can carry. So we'll have to leave a few things behind. We may have to do a lot a walking.''

‘‘Where's we gwine go, Mayme?'' asked Emma, a hint of fear in her voice.

‘‘I don't know, Emma. But don't worry, we'll keep away from the McSimmons place. We'll leave in the other direction and head north, and then we'll see where our steps take us.''

Josepha must have heard us talking, because now she walked into the room.

‘‘I's practically ready ter go, Mayme,'' she said. ‘‘I dun wrapped up what I come wiff, though I made shure Miz Katie din't see me 'cuz I don' want ter make her no sadder den she is, an' dat po girl's heart is breakin', dat much is plain enuff. When you figger on us leavin'?''

‘‘On Friday when Katie's uncle comes back, I reckon, Josepha,'' I said. ‘‘Unless he comes sooner, which is why I thought we ought to be getting ready.''

‘‘Dat's a good-soundin' plan all right.''

‘‘Den I'll git me an' William ready too,'' said Emma. ‘‘We's be ready wheneber you says, Mayme.''

‘‘But do it when Katie's not in the house, like Josepha said,'' I said. ‘‘We don't want to talk about leaving around her. Then when Friday comes, we'll say our good-byes and just go. That will be the easiest way.''

The other two nodded and left the room, leaving me alone again with my preparations, and with all the memories every little thing brought back to my mind.

As I made my preparations and was wandering around the second floor of the house, chatting occasionally with Emma and Josepha, looking at things, I peeked into the room Katie's mama had used for an office, the room with the safe. Her uncle Burchard was still using that room whenever he came around, snooping through the secretary, still looking for the combination.

I don't know why I wandered in like I did. I was just quietly looking at everything in a sad and pensive way.

The top of the secretary was open from the last time Mr. Clairborne had been here, with papers and things on it. On top of the stack of papers sat a folded-up newspaper. I still couldn't read as good as Katie, but I could read well enough to glance over it. And then suddenly my eyes stopped on some big words at the bottom of the page that shocked me like nothing I'd ever read in one of Katie's McGuffy Readers!

The words said:
Two Girls At Rosewood Fool A Town and
Run A Plantation Alone
.

I picked it up and ran downstairs looking for Katie.

‘‘Katie, look at this!'' I said when I found her outside.

A minute or two later all of us were clustered around the kitchen table.

‘‘Read it, Miz Katie,'' said Emma. ‘‘Please, read it out loud.''

Katie looked up and smiled kind of sadly. To read what other people were saying about us couldn't help but make us feel proud of what we had done. But it was hard to feel much happiness along with the pride because it was all going to be over in two days.

Katie drew in a deep breath, then started to read aloud:

‘‘Shenandoah County, North Carolina, has harbored a
secret for the past two years—a secret shared by two sixteen-year-
old girls—one white, the other colored. The families of
the two young women, on different plantations, were both
massacred by the gang known as Bilsby's Marauders. The
girls, however, hiding from the tragedies, managed to survive.

‘‘After Bilsby's rampage through the South in the month
following the war, Kathleen Clairborne, daughter of Richard
Clairborne, owner of the plantation known as Rosewood near
the town of Greens Crossing, and a former slave girl by the
name of Mayme Jukes, suddenly found themselves
together . . . but alone.

‘‘The unlikely pair, whom fate brought together quite by
accident in the days following the massacre, decided to make
a life for themselves at the Clairborne plantation. Their plan
was to pretend that everything was perfectly normal, and thus
to escape detection.

‘‘For the next two years the two did precisely that, devising
various charades to make Rosewood look busier than it
was. They not only survived together, they succeeded in
bringing in two harvests of cotton without help from the outside
world. In almost two years, only a handful of people
discovered their secret.

‘‘The truth, however, was recently learned by an uncle of
Miss Clairborne's from Charlotte. Richard Clairborne's
brother has now filed for ownership of the plantation, and
transfer is scheduled to take effect later this month.''

Katie set down the paper with a sigh. There wasn't much more to be said.

L
AST
N
IGHT AT
R
OSEWOOD
20

T
HOUGH WE HADN'T WANTED TO TALK IN FRONT
of Katie about the rest of us leaving, we finally did, though it was Katie who brought it up. On Thursday evening, as we were eating our last supper together, she got real quiet, even more than usual. Pretty soon the rest of us quieted down too, and waited. It was obvious that she was wanting to say something.

Finally Katie spoke up.

‘‘I want to talk to all of you,'' she said slowly. ‘‘This is our last night together here at Rosewood, and there are some things I want to say.''

She paused and took in a deep breath.

‘‘There's too much to say and I don't know how to say it,'' she went on. Her voice was strong, not as if she was about to cry like we'd been doing all week, though I know it was still hard for her. ‘‘So I will just say thank you to you all. I couldn't have kept Rosewood going all this time, or paid off my mama's loans at the bank, without your help. I love you all. I wish it didn't have to be like this, but I suppose it is and there's nothing any of us can do about it.''