Together is All We Need (11 page)

He turned and walked to his horse, mounted, and rode away.

Katie and I just stood there for another minute, then slowly walked toward each other and embraced. There was nothing to say. I held Katie for the longest time while she cried. I was too angry to cry. Maybe I'd cry sometime later, but on that day I was angry. Katie was about the sweetest girl in all the world. How could anyone, let alone her own uncle, be so mean to her!

A D
IFFICULT
F
AMILY
T
ALK
17

K
ATIE HARDLY SAID ANYTHING THE REST OF THE
day. If I'd thought it was quiet before, it was really silent now. She just sat and stared, or walked around with a blank expression on her face.

But by the next morning, a new look had come into her eyes—a look of determination, like she'd made some kind of decision.

She got us all around the table in the kitchen as we were eating breakfast, and I knew she wanted to talk to us.

‘‘Sit down, please, Josepha,'' she said as Josepha continued to bustle about with milk and bread and butter and eggs.

‘‘I's jes' be gittin' dese eggs—''

‘‘Josepha, please,'' said Katie in an insistent tone. ‘‘The eggs can wait. I want you to sit down and listen. I have to talk to all of you.''

It was the first time Katie had ever spoken to her in that tone, and it seemed almost to shock Josepha. She put down what was in her hand and slowly walked to the table and eased herself into a chair. The rest of us were silent. We knew it was serious.

I looked around at all of us sitting there. Katie was so grown-up now. My, how she had changed since that first day! I wondered if I had changed as much in her eyes. Emma had grown-up some too. She wasn't nearly so scatterbrained as I'd thought her at first. Maybe that showed that I'd changed as much as her. William was sitting in the chair next to her on top of a box. He was playing with a string ball—unwinding it and then winding it up, over and over again. And next to him sat Josepha—a bit nervous, I could tell. She was always fine just so long as she was busy serving and helping others. But she didn't like to just sit still.

I guess I was pretty grown-up too. We weren't just a parcel of kids anymore. I suppose if someone had walked in right then and seen Katie talking to the four of us coloreds, they'd have thought she was our mistress giving her workers their instructions for the day. But how different from that it really was! We were a family.

‘‘I . . . I don't know what to say,'' Katie finally began softly. ‘‘My uncle said that Rosewood will become his this Friday . . . so I guess . . . I guess it's over for us. I don't know what to do . . . it doesn't seem like there
is
anything to do. I . . . I want you to know. . .''

She tried to look around the table at each of us. The look on her face, with those big eyes of hers, was so sad, it was hard to return her look. She tried to smile.

‘‘I just want you to know. . . that I love you all so much,'' she went on. ‘‘I don't know what I'd have done without all of you. . . .''

She glanced away. Emma was crying by now. I don't think Josepha was too far behind.

‘‘But he says,'' Katie said, taking in a deep breath and struggling to continue, ‘‘he's going . . . to make you all leave. I'm so sorry . . . I don't have any choice. He's going to be the owner on Friday, and . . . I don't know what to do!''

At last Katie looked away and broke into tears.

‘‘But what we gwine do, Miz Katie?'' blubbered Emma through her tears. ‘‘I ain't got no place ter go!''

I saw that Katie couldn't reply. She felt terrible about what she was saying to us, but helpless too. It was killing her inside.

‘‘It's all right, Emma,'' I said finally. ‘‘We're all family now, and it's not this house or this land that makes us a family but each other. So I won't let anything happen to you. I've already decided that I'm going north somewhere, you and me and William. We'll find some other coloreds somewhere—they'll take us in. You don't need to worry about a thing.''

‘‘Don't fergit 'bout me, Miz Mayme,'' said Josepha. ‘‘I's be goin' wiff you too, 'cuz I can't stay here neither, an' I shure ain't 'bout ter crawl back ter dat Mistress McSimmons, nohow.''

‘‘You see, Emma,'' I said. ‘‘We'll be all right together, and Josepha and I—we'll help you take care of William. Everything will be fine.''

It was silent for a while. Katie managed to stop crying, and I saw that look of determination coming over her face again, though it was filled with sadness at the same time.

‘‘Mayme,'' she began again, looking up at me, ‘‘you're right—we're a family. And not just you and Emma and Josepha. I'm part of your family too.''

‘‘Oh, Katie, I know!'' I said. ‘‘You're the one that brought us all together. I only meant—''

‘‘I know, Mayme,'' she interrupted. ‘‘I know what you meant. But, please, let me finish. What I was going to say is that if we are a family—
all
of us—then, why can't we all leave together? I don't want to stay here by myself. I could never stay here alone, with just my uncle Burchard and his workers. It won't be my home anymore, and with all of you gone, well . . . it's just like you said, home isn't
here
. . . my home is with
you
. So I'm going with you.''

We all looked at each other in surprise. My heart leapt to think that Katie would give up her life on a big plantation just to be with us. But almost as quickly I came to my senses.

‘‘We'll be traveling around, Katie,'' I said. ‘‘We'll have to live with coloreds.''

‘‘If I can take you into my home, surely coloreds will take me into theirs,'' she said. ‘‘And besides, we've got money . . . we can pay.''

‘‘It isn't the money, Katie,'' I said. ‘‘It's just . . . a colored life is different than a white life. Sure, they would take you in . . . but . . . it's different . . . it's—''

‘‘It jes' ain' dun, Miz Katie,'' put in Josepha. ‘‘Dat's what Miz Mayme's tryin' ter say. Jes' wouldn't be right, dat's all.''

‘‘But why, Josepha?'' said Katie. ‘‘
Why
wouldn't it be right? Blacks don't mind what color anyone is, do they?''

Again it was quiet. Josepha didn't have an answer. But I knew what she meant.

It would be hard, maybe one of the hardest things I'd ever done. But I knew what I had to say.

‘‘Katie,'' I began, ‘‘this . . . this life here at Rosewood— you've let us all live a dream. That's what it's been like, a dream come true. You've been kinder than anyone could have ever been. You've shared everything with us and even let us feel that in a little way Rosewood belonged to us too. You've let us live like whites and you've treated us with respect and kindness. You're just about the most wonderful person in the whole world, and you know how much I love you. I won't ever forget what you've done for me, and I know Emma and Josepha won't either, or Aleta, though she's already gone.''

I paused. Katie was starting to cry again and it was all I could do to keep from crying myself.

‘‘But, Katie,'' I continued, ‘‘this isn't like the rest of the world really is. Like I said, this is a dream. Even if we call ourselves a family, and even if you and I are cousins and kin, the fact is, you are white and I am black. Emma and Josepha are black. Nothing can change that, and life will always be different for us. Life is different for coloreds, Katie.''

‘‘Miz Mayme's right, Miz Katie,'' nodded Josepha. ‘‘Dat's what I wuz tryin' ter say. Dis here's been da bes' time er my life too, but you's white an' dat makes things different fer you.''

‘‘This has been the most wonderful time of my life too, Katie,'' I said. ‘‘But down inside I knew it wouldn't last. You know that, because that's why I tried to leave a couple times.''

‘‘But I still don't see what any of this has to do with me,'' moaned Katie. ‘‘We can leave together and keep being a family.''

‘‘Katie,'' I said, ‘‘you have a life ahead of you, and you've got to live it. You can do things that we will never be able to do. You can go to school and you will meet a young man someday and get married and have children and maybe have another nice house of your own. None of that will happen if you come with us. We don't have a future like that, and no white person traveling around and living with coloreds can either. They would call you poor white trash, Katie. And even if it means leaving you, I would never let that happen to you. You have no idea how coloreds live. Emma and I and Josepha, we know what it's like to be black. We can handle it. But I don't want you to have to live that kind of hard life. I want you to have the kind of life you deserve. And you can't have it if you come with us.''

My words even sobered Emma. And I think I'd finally gotten through to Katie. Our hearts were all breaking to realize that in a few days we were all going to have to say good-bye to each other. But I think at last Katie realized it too. I just hoped she knew it wasn't because I didn't love her that I'd said what I did, but because I knew what was best for her.

I don't think anyone could love a friend more than I loved Katie.

After another minute, without saying anything more, she got up and walked outside.

K
ATIE IN
T
OWN
18

I
HARDLY TALKED TO KATIE THE REST OF THAT DAY
. I saw her in the distance walking about the place and I knew what she was doing. She was thinking about all the times we'd shared here. I have to admit, I had been doing a lot of that lately too. And if I wasn't mistaken, Katie probably spent an hour or two in her secret place in the woods, probably praying. I spent quite a bit of the day on and off in prayer too, and reliving all over again—from that horrible day we met, Katie in a daze with blood on her nightgown, and me having no idea what kind of place I'd stumbled into, right down to the day not so very long ago when we'd found out that we were cousins.

There were so many memories! As horrible as it was to lose our families tragically like we had, I would never say that it was
worth it
to get to know Katie, but getting to know her and having a best friend and cousin like that almost made up for the grief and pain.
Nothing
could ever make up for losing a mama. That was a heartache Katie and I would always share, that we would never see our mamas again in this life.

But we had each other, and that sure helped!

Or at least it
had
helped. It looked like that was going to be taken away from us too. But nothing could take away the memories . . . or the friendship. And somehow, even if we were separated, I knew we would always be friends. Nothing could change that.

The next morning Katie came downstairs all dressed up and said she was going into town. I didn't ask why. I knew Katie would tell me when she was ready to. Even Emma didn't say anything and wasn't blabbing so much anymore. She too seemed to realize something special was coming to an end. We were all close to tears. We couldn't help it.

Katie left for town in the small buggy and all the rest of us quietly kept to ourselves. We didn't know what else to do but to keep puttering around with our chores. It didn't seem like there was much use in doing anything, but what else could we do? And cows had to be milked twice a day no matter what. But we couldn't help thinking that whatever Katie was doing in town, it must have something to do with our own fate.

When she got to Greens Crossing the first place she went was to the bank. She said Mr. Taylor didn't seem surprised to see her and wasn't particularly friendly.

‘‘So, Kathleen,'' he said in a snappy voice, ‘‘you were lying to me all along every time I asked you about your mother.''

‘‘I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor,'' said Katie. ‘‘I didn't know what else to do. We had to have money to keep Rosewood going. Maybe it was wrong of me . . . but I didn't know what else to do.''

‘‘Well, a lot of good it did you. As I understand it, you are going to lose it now anyway.''

‘‘That's why I want to take out all our money.''

He looked at her as if she must be joking. I guess bankers don't like people taking all their money out of their banks.

‘‘Take it out . . . all of it?''

‘‘Yes, sir.''

‘‘But why?''

‘‘I need it.''

‘‘
Need
it . . . need it for what?''

‘‘All right, then, maybe I just want it. And maybe what I want it for is my own business.''

‘‘You must know, Kathleen, that technically it's not really your money at all. The account is in your mother and father's name.''

‘‘But they're dead, Mr. Taylor. Who else could the money belong to but me? Besides, I'm the one who brought you the money from our cotton, and from the gold. My mama didn't give it to you, I did. And I want it back.''

‘‘Yes, well . . . yes, that makes a certain amount of sense,'' he said, a little annoyed at her attitude, Katie thought, but what else could he do? ‘‘I, uh . . . I'll check your account,'' he said.

He rose and left Katie sitting at his desk. When he returned a minute later, he seemed to have recovered a little of his poise.

‘‘The balance in the account is two hundred and seventeen dollars,'' he said, sitting down again. ‘‘How much of that do you need?''

‘‘I told you, Mr. Taylor,'' said Katie. ‘‘I want it all.''

‘‘But what could you possibly want with all that money?''