An Acquaintance with Darkness - Ann Rinaldi [35]
"That you're sick, and he's taking care of you."
"Hmmph," she said. Then she nodded. "Yes. He's takin' care o' me. Like my old master's son would care for birds with broken wings he catched. Those birds always wanna get away even if just to die free in the woods. I'm gonna die anyways. So I wanna die free." Then she cocked her head and listened. "What are the bells for? What are people yelling in the streets?"
"The president had died."
"Linkum?"
"Yes."
A great cry of dismay escaped her throat. And she raised her arms to heaven. Tears rolled down her face like on the Negroes' in the streets. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. "Linkum, my Lord, Linkum." Then she said something strange. "My fault," she said.
"Your fault?"
She nodded. "He set me free. Gave me my freedom. A gift. Then I went an' lost it. He musta heard 'bout that. Addie Bassett lost the gift he give her. Musta killed him, poor man."
"No," I said, "you didn't kill him. Someone else did. He was shot. They're looking, now, for the person who did it."
"I did it. Me, an' all my kind who take this gift from this man and wander in the streets an' doan work an' earn our keep. But wait fer the white man to lead us. I did it." She sobbed and walked away from me, across the floorboards that creaked under her heavy weight. She stood looking out the window, wiping her eyes and quieting herself. Her great bulk cast a shadow across the room. "What do that mean? My freedom gone now?"
"No, your freedom isn't gone. President Lincoln gave it to you for always."
"I still gots it?"
"Yes."
She turned, unbelieving. She held out her hands to me. "Then it's more 'portant that I get outta here. Help me get outta here, please. I gotta use my freedom right."
I shook my head, no. "I can't do that. You're sick."
"I'se better now. As better as I ever be. Gonna die anyways. I jus' wants a chance to do somethin' wif this freedom Mr. Linkum give me, before I die. Please. I kin do things. I jus' had a spell o' bad luck. I wanna go out there an' help my people."
"How?"
"I was workin' fer the Relief Society. I got sick. They found me in the streets and brought me here."
"But you said you weren't working and that's why you killed President Lincoln."
She bowed her head. "I wuz workin', but I wuz drinkin', too. I doan drink no more. Tha's one good thing that come o' my bein here. Please help me—please."
"I can't," I said again. "I'm sorry."
She walked back across the room to lean over me. "Missy, you know what he does? Do you?"
I backed away. "No."
"Well, you gonna be livin' here, you gonna find out. An' when you do, you'll help old Addie. Yes, you will. Un-hun!" She gave the last words deep emphasis.
"What does he do?" I croaked.
"That ain't fer me to tell, missy. No, sir, no." She shook her head. Her white hair stuck out every which way. "It's fer you to find out yourself."
I thought of all the terrible things Mama had hinted about Uncle Valentine. "Is it bad?" I whispered.
"Ain't fer me to tell, no, sir," she said again. "Old Addie got only so many words left in her. An' she ain't 'bout to waste 'em talkin' 'bout things she cain't do nuthin' 'bout. You'll find out, sure 'nuf. An' when you does, you'll help old Addie leave." Then she waddled out of the room.
"Wait!" I begged. But she was gone. A gust of rain beat against the windows. The candles flickered. The room was silent except for the distant tolling of the death bells for Lincoln. And the rain pattering against the windows. I looked around.
Had I dreamed her? I rubbed my eyes. What was Uncle Valentine doing in this house that she would not tell me? Why had Marietta warned me not to pry? Oh, I wished I were home in the narrow little house on H Street. I wished Mama had not died. I wished Johnny would come knocking at the door. Or Annie. What was happening to Annie and her mother?
I took another powder. My foot was starting to hurt. Then I decided to just get in bed and lie back and rest for a while. I fell asleep. And I never woke until the sun's rays were pouring