Chapter 29 #2
I wanted property. Land. Something to hold for myself and posterity.
I wanted my offspring to rely on themselves.
Not someone else. They needed security. And to have open hands to help another somebody.
“There’s a store downtown with rooms on the second floor.
That’s what I want. Business on the bottom.
Live in one section upstairs. And help someone by renting out the other. Whatcha think?”
“Sounds like a Zinnie plan to me.” Ella switched subjects. “You think they’ll let ’em in the school?”
“We’ll see.” I was too old to learn to read or write but wanted education for our children. “But they ought to. Our little bits are intelligent. Hattie’s barely five and already counting to sixty.”
We dressed our children in their best, plaited and combed their hair neatly. When that dry-faced schoolmarm intercepted us at the picket fence and turned our children away, claiming the one-room school was at capacity, I added a school for Negro children to my list of life projects.
Buy land and real estate.
Negro school and church edifice.
Set Alretha up in some kind of care center for children since she’s so good with them.
Find Buck and buy his freedom.
Daily, I recited my list as February melted into spring.
It provided motivation while training with Dr. Guyer and performing hard tasks.
He was exacting but kind, demanded strict hygiene and proper sanitation of medical instruments.
Daily he read aloud passages from medical books and tested me on their content, marveling at my comprehension and retention.
He used cadavers from the morgue to teach me anatomy.
Taught me techniques that might’ve saved my Lovie.
I committed to learning everything I could to prevent a repeat of such tragedies.
“Even with the best knowledge it happens, Zinnie. Mourn with those who mourn without selling your soul to grief.”
I accepted his wisdom and eventually graduated to assisting him with patients of all races.
In the office and on house calls. My presence created shock and unrest initially, but patients quickly learned objections to me meant Dr. Guyer declining to treat them.
Slowly but surely, I gained trust and acceptance.
I built community and relationships and even sold my herbs and roots to boost patients’ health with my employer’s approval.
Los Angeles was home to a varied population including free Negroes who held many occupations.
Ranch hands. Cowboys. Barbers. Laundresses and restaurateurs.
Shop owners. Seamstresses. California living was wide-ranging but imperfect.
The mindsets of plantation people still existed, but it couldn’t overturn the wellness my family and I experienced.
“It’s hotter than the devil’s kitchen. Why we walking so fast?” I fussed and fumed one August evening as Ella and Alretha insisted I accompany them. My workday had been long with a difficult delivery. I wanted nothing but to soak my feet before bed, but they were ruthless.
“Keep walking and quit grousing.” Ella was Ella: undeterred as always. She was arresting with her funny-colored eyes and her sandy plaits no longer hiding beneath a kerchief but artfully arranged. “The faster we walk the sooner we get out of this heat.”
“My feet are melting.” The long hem of my new dress hid my brogans. Without the heat I might have felt stately, if not pretty.
“Stop exaggerating, Zinnie.” Alretha long ago dropped miss when addressing me.
Beautiful brown-skinned and statuesque, she was my sister now.
All was as it should be. I was proud of her and her deep maternal instincts.
Our bright-eyed Nettie loved riding in a harness on my back those rare moments I was able to tend my garden.
She was a smart baby. Just like my Hattie. And cute as a button.
“Y’all got five more minutes to get us where we’re going or I’ma—”
“Zinnie, hush.” Ella grabbed my arm. “We’re here.”
I looked at the building facade, recognizing it as an eatery we frequented rarely. Paying for food I could cook wasn’t good for my savings. I started to question being there but stopped when I noticed a cluster of people through the window, smiling and waving.
I stared at my sister-friends. “What’s going on?”
Hattie opened the door before either could respond.
“Happy birthday, Mama!” My littlest bit wore a smile as wide as her pretty face.
She was sweeter than sugar all dolled up in a new Sunday-Go-Meeting dress and black button shoes.
Thick plaits wrapped about her head like a halo, she grabbed my hand and pulled me indoors, where I was immediately engulfed in loving embraces.
Neighbors. Friends. Patients I’d assisted.
Even Coraline, Bayard, the twins, and my Juniper and Annabelle had come from San Bernardino to share well-wishes.
I was overwhelmed. “What is this?”
“Your first birthday celebration, Auntie, as a free woman.”
I looked at July standing beside the sweet young lady who’d caught his interest. I cupped his face, so like Lovie’s, and broke down crying. My tribe immediately surrounded me. Their love-filled touches soothed and uplifted and left me weeping even harder knowing I was so very loved and blessed.
“I never had a birthday worth remembering until today. Thank you again.”
“Mama, you’ve been thanking us all night. You’re welcome. Now, come inside.”
“Who made you the mama, Abigail? You’re getting as bossy as Annabelle.”
My middle bit laughed and kissed my temple. “Now Miss Make Believe Mama’ll really have someone to boss. Poor baby.”
Seated on the back porch of our tiny home—yard brimming with golden poppies I used in tinctures for wound cleaning, sleep problems, and pain—I gazed into the dark night and smiled.
My daughter’s having a child.
Better than the stethoscope from Dr. Guyer, or the leather medical bag from my family, was the news that my Annabelle was expecting. Her offspring wouldn’t have to fight for freedom. He or she would be born into it. I couldn’t ask for a better gift.
“Mama, may we have more birthday cake?”
I looked up to find Hattie in the doorway, Nettie perched on her hip.
“Yes, but let Abby cut it so you don’t hurt yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hattie hurried back indoors, smiling brightly.
I thanked my Abigail as she went inside, leaving me to the solace of the night. “My first birthday as a free woman…”
I thought about life and the miles that brought me here, and how I’d never anticipated the method by which I’d gained freedom.
I didn’t run or squirrel money away for years or decades to free myself and my children.
God gave me strength to speak truth in court proceedings despite fear of brutal retaliation. For this I was forever grateful.
I closed my eyes and hummed contently.
Happy birthday, sweet lady.
Buck’s voice startled me. It was so clear, so near that I whirled around expecting him to step from the dark night and back into my life, only to realize the beloveds I heard—Mama Ruth, Lovie—were those who’d crossed to the other side.
“Oh, love…” I covered my mouth and wept. My working, saving for his freedom hadn’t happened quickly enough. Now, my beloved was gone.
“Mama, we brought you some more cake just in case.”
I quickly dried my face when Abigail returned with Hattie and Nettie.
“Mama, are you okay?”
I nodded at Abigail. “Give me this fat baby.”
Nettie reached for me, smiling and wiggling. I sat her on my lap before accepting the slice of cake and feeding her a tiny bit. Our connection was special. Tender. Maybe some part of her soul knew I’d snatched her mother from death and played midwife to her earthly entrance.
“Mama, was your birthday happy?”
I shifted Nettie to make room for my Hattie. She climbed on my lap and lay back against me. My girls were safe. My beloved Buck was free. I tapped the toes of my brogans against the floorboards, knowing he was with me.
I smiled as Abigail stood behind the chair and draped her arms about my neck.
“Little bit, this was my happiest birthday yet.”
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