Chasing the North Star (30 page)

Nineteen

Joshua

Now that Joshua had a little money and was living alone in his room on Cayuga Street, he bought himself a leather Bible to read in the evenings by lamplight. It was not as fine as the Bible Mrs. Williams had given him, but it was his, bought with his own money, to be read in his room. As he savored the familiar words, it seemed too good to be true that he was free to read any time he had a spare moment. No one would punish him, even if he was caught with the book open. He would get other books later, and he could read the newspaper every day in the parlor of Mrs. Gregg's house. But first he wanted to pick up where he'd left off reading when Mr. Williams whipped him.

Joshua turned first to the book of Joshua in the Old Testament to read about the man who'd led the Children of Israel out of the wilderness into the promised land. As he read, Joshua was surprised to find the Israelites had to fight the Canaanites to possess the land they'd been promised. Only through a mighty struggle were they able to claim their birthright. And after they had won, Joshua made a covenant with his people and set laws and statutes. Joshua wrote the laws in a book and took a large stone and set it under an oak tree as a sign of God's promise. The favorite verse Joshua found was Joshua 24:27.

“And Joshua said unto all the people, Behold this stone shall be a witness unto us; for it hath heard all the words of the Lord which he spake unto us: it shall be therefore a witness unto you, lest you deny your God.”

The passage thrilled Joshua in ways he couldn't explain. Something about the large rock under the oak tree as a reminder of the laws and covenant with the people delighted him every time he thought of it. Just imagining the stone placed as a witness made him feel hopeful and strong. He'd left behind Jonah and his gourd vine for Joshua and his stone and oak tree for witness in the promised land. As soon as it was spring, he'd get his own large rock and place it under an oak tree as testimony of his arrival up north.

ON CHRISTMAS EVE
J
OSHUA
sat in his room looking through the first volume of the
David Copperfield
. The pages were crisp and the print vivid. With his knife he slit open every other page. There were pictures illustrating the story. But he couldn't keep his attention on the book. Even though he was invited to the Belues for Christmas dinner the next day, and even though he had a room of his own, he was lonely, more lonely than he'd been since he arrived in Ithaca. Maybe it was the thought that it was Christmas that made him feel so alone, so abandoned. He thought about Mama back at the Williams Place, and the cakes she always made at Christmas. He thought of the presents Mrs. Williams always gave him. He thought of the cedar tree Mrs. Williams had him decorate in the parlor, and the holly and turkey's-paw moss he gathered to put on the mantel and over doorways. He would never see the Williams Place again. An ache shot through his chest so hard he could barely breathe. He'd never before felt such homesickness. He would never eat Mama's cornbread again, and he wouldn't catch catfish in the Saluda River to skin and fry for supper. He'd never read scripture to Mrs. Williams again and get presents from her.

Joshua was surprised by the depth of his loneliness and homesickness. In his room on Christmas Eve he should have been happy and grateful that he had a job and a clean place to live, and he was going to Rev. Belue's tomorrow for Christmas dinner. He should have felt more confident than he had in all the months since he ran away from the Williams Place. Instead it seemed the bottom was falling out of everything he knew. He was sliding down into a blackness he'd never known before, not even when he was humbled by Mr. Williams and Mr. Wells. He was falling and could find nothing to catch onto.

Since fleeing the Williams Place that July night, Joshua had been too busy and maybe too scared to face the loneliness and homesickness he carried somewhere deep in his marrow. Along the road there had been too much danger to ever admit there was such a thing as despair. And anger had borne him up and carried him along at the worst moments. Anger had been the horse he'd ridden and the armor he'd worn after Mr. Williams had whipped him, and after Mr. Wells had hurt him with the hot and cold water. Hate and fury had fueled his long journey from South Carolina and enabled him at desperate moments to go on.

But now that he had plenty to eat at Mrs. Gregg's house, was apparently safe in Ithaca, and had the friendship of Rev. and Mrs. Belue, the fear and pain he'd pushed away before for all those months came crashing down on him. He thought of Christmas Eve at the Williams Place, the carols they would be singing in the quarters, and at church, the pitiful presents Mama would give each of her children, a comb, a ribbon, a stick of horehound candy bought at the store in Travelers Rest. When he thought of the pathetic gratitude he'd felt when Mr. Williams had given him a quarter on Christmas morning, tears filled Joshua's eyes. A quarter had seemed a bounty, a tiny fortune to be carried to the store. Now he could earn that much in a few hours. The cruelty of the Williams Place seemed worse now than it had then. At the time it was all he knew. Now he could see the horror of that way of life. He shuddered, recalling the day Mr. Williams had caught him reading in the barn loft. But even as he shivered, he felt a stabbing homesickness that hurt every part of him, a torment he could not brush away.

At that moment Joshua knew he would crawl a mile on his knees to see the shack where Mama was making mush with molasses sweetening for a Christmas pudding. Since he'd stolen her money she didn't have anything to buy presents with, however small, for the younger children. He would never be able to repay her, and he'd never see her again. He could never ask her for forgiveness.

Joshua felt sick in his bones. He tried to think of something firm and strong to grab hold of. He was sliding down into a pit where there was no air to breathe. He had to catch onto something to stop the tumble or he'd suffocate. He opened one of the volumes of Dickens's novel and tried to read a few lines, but closed the book as the words swam like frog spawn on the page. He opened the Bible he'd bought and saw the name Lamentations. He tried to recall all the people he'd met since he left the Williams Place, on the road in North Carolina and Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York. Miss Linda and Mr. Wells, Hettie and Lonella, Prissy and Sheriff Watkins, Mr. Driver and his daughter Sylvia. Rev. Belue and Mrs. Belue. And then he saw the kettle in the corner of his room, the kettle he'd carried through Pennsylvania, and he began to think of Angel, now Sarepta King, who'd been with him much of the way. He picked the kettle up and saw how Angel had polished the iron with stove polish until it shone like leather.

A chill stung through Joshua as he thought of Angel. He'd run away from her three times on the road: on the French Broad, at Miss Linda's at Roanoke, and at Owego. And he'd avoided her in Ithaca, telling himself it wasn't safe to associate with another escaped slave. Besides, she was ignorant and sold herself at Miss Linda's, and, if rumor was correct, at the hotel in Ithaca. She was fat and her tongue was sharp. She had a special knack for belittling him, and she liked to cross and contradict him.

But he recalled the times she'd been good to him, the night of wonder at the jubilee, the night she'd comforted him on the train after he kicked the other runaway out of the boxcar, the way she'd found him at the jail in Winchester, and waited in the woods for him at the Driver farm in Pennsylvania. He thought of her laugh, and the smoothness of her honey-colored skin. There was a liveliness about Angel he didn't have words to describe. It was as though she was completely
in
her life wherever she was. In comparison, other people, including himself, had their heads off in the clouds or some other vague place. Angel filled her life completely every day.

Joshua saw that the only thing that could cheer him up was to see Angel. She was the only remnant of home he had left. Everything else had been lost. The job he had at the mill and the room he rented from Mrs. Gregg were nice. But they were not home. Not home as he understood it, felt it in his bones and in his blood. Angel was all he had left of his real self. She was the only chance of a home he had.

Suddenly Joshua saw that he must go to Angel and apologize for abandoning her. He'd left her three times, as Peter had denied Christ three times before he repented. She'd seen all along how much he had needed her, and he'd been callous and blind to his true need, and hers. Joshua wiped his eyes and saw what a fool he'd been. He'd acted silly out of fear and arrogance, and his own ignorance. Though she couldn't read, Angel had understood him far better than he had himself.

It was already eight o'clock, but he knew he must go to Angel. He would wish her a Merry Christmas and thank her for helping him reach the North, thank her for stealing those eggs that sustained them through Pennsylvania as the weather turned cold. She'd been his partner and his helpmeet. She'd given him solace and love when he had been most desperate.

Putting on his coat and scarf and cap, Joshua descended the stairs as quietly as he could and stepped out into the cold night. Snow crunched like broken glass under his boots. The stars were brilliant overhead, and candles burned in windows all along the street. He met a group of carolers, their breaths smoking and smelling of brandy as they sang “Joy to the World” at the edge of a yard.

Joshua knew he should take a present to Angel-Sarepta. It was the least he could do to show her his change of heart, his appreciation. He had money in his pocket, but wasn't sure what stores would be open at this hour. He turned onto State Street, which was the main street, and was pleased when he saw lights in Rothschild's dry goods store. A red and gold and blue scarf was displayed in the window, so shiny it seemed like rippling water. He bought it and had it wrapped just as the store was closing for the night. With the package under his arm, he turned the corner and headed toward the hotel.

When Angel had invited him to visit her weeks before, she'd said she lived on the top floor and he should come up the back stairs. But Joshua did not feel like going around to the back and sneaking up to Angel's room. He'd come to a resolution about Angel and he was bringing her a Christmas present and he would not be afraid. He would enter through the front door and lobby for all to see. He'd not be ashamed of visiting his former partner on the road.

As Joshua walked into the lobby lit by gas lamps, a man at the front desk stopped him. “Well Merry Christmas, boy,” he said. “Where might you be going?”

Joshua was so surprised he stammered, “Going to see Angel Thomas.”

“No Angel Thomas here,” the man said. He stared at Joshua and the package under his arm.

“I mean Sarepta, Sarepta King,” Joshua said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Joshua shook his head and anger began to flare in his throat. He swallowed and saw his mistake in coming through the lobby. “She's a friend,” he said.

“Sarepta has lots of friends,” the man behind the desk said. “You can make an appointment to come later.”

“Don't need no appointment,” Joshua said.

Just then Joshua saw Angel come out of a hallway with a man in a fur-collared coat and top hat. She wore a coat and big bonnet, but he knew it was Angel by her big figure and dark face. She and the man in fancy clothes started up the staircase to the next floor and Joshua watched them mount until they were out of sight.

“Sarepta will be free later, if you care to make an appointment,” the man at the desk said.

Joshua spun around and banged the door as he stepped back into the cold, still clutching the wrapped package. He hardly noticed the chill night air, for the blood inside his face seemed even colder. Snow that had partly melted during the day had now frozen again, and his boots crunched on the hardened tracks. He stomped along the street, hardly noticing where he was going, and almost collided with a tipsy caroler before he stepped aside. “Pardon me,” he muttered and hurried on.

With the present held to his chest, he thought of walking to the lake and throwing the gift into the still unfrozen inlet. He thought of climbing the hill past the mill and tossing the scarf over the waterfall. A fire was burning in a barrel at the corner of State Street where boys who had been ice skating warmed their hands. He considered dropping the package into the flames, but he didn't.

Instead Joshua walked back to Mrs. Gregg's house and entered and climbed the stairs to his room without wiping his boots. As he took off his coat he ignored the lumps of melting snow that fell on the floor. He threw the package and the coat on the bed and sat down in his one chair before the little table where the lamp still burned. The Bible lay in front of him and the three volumes of
David Copperfield
. He opened and then closed the first volume.

Joshua had known all along that Angel sold herself to customers at Miss Linda's, after she had moved to the upstairs room. And he knew she'd been a bed warmer for her master at the Thomas place, for she'd told him so herself. He even knew the rumors about her in Ithaca, about her working at the hotel. It was no great secret how she made her living.

He was surprised at himself, and angry at himself, and ashamed of himself for being so affected by seeing her with the man in the top hat and fur-collared coat. He didn't feel like himself but somebody else. Before he had resented Angel going with other men, but he'd been more concerned about getting away from her and making it to the North. He'd liked to be with her himself, but that didn't stop him from abandoning her three times—four times if you counted the train at Harrisburg—and never trying to see her in Ithaca over the past few weeks.

What had changed now was his own feelings. Angel had not changed. She had to find a way to live in this town, until she could make her way on to Canada. How did she know he'd decided to go to her on Christmas Eve? It was his mind that had altered as he saw how much he needed her. Joshua was disgusted with himself for being so foolish. Whoa there, boy, you are dumb as sawdust, he said. But he was still angry at Angel, too.