Under the Tulip Tree

by Michelle Shocklee

“You don’t know anything about me or my family, Mr. Norwood. I’ll thank you to keep your judgments to yourself.”

His misguided opinion shouldn’t bother me, yet I was so weary of strangers and acquaintances

alike making assumptions. No one knew what we’d been through the past seven years. No one knew the fear we lived with every single day. If it weren’t for Grandma Lorena’s help with bills, I didn’t know how we would survive.

The opinion of Alden Norwood didn’t matter in the least. He was merely my driver, and I would treat him as such.

his presence offered a measure of safety I hadn’t anticipated needing.

While I didn’t want people like Mr. Norwood judging me on the kind of house I lived in, I was having a hard time not doing the same for the residents of Hell’s Half Acre.

“I been expecting you. The Lord told me I couldn’t go home till you come.”

“Uh-hm, I know why you here. But, chile, you ain’t got a clue why you is here.”

“Fact is, I ain’t never told my story to anyone since freedom come. No sense in rememberin’ them days, I say.”

Said it would be good for folks in her day to know ’bout the past.”

“But I told her the past is best forgotten. We can’t go back and change nothin’ that happened, so why dredge up all those bitter memories?”

“I’ll tell you ’bout slavery times if you want to hear it. You can ask me anything and I’ll do my best to remember. It ain’t a pretty story, though. You may be sorry you came askin’ when I’m done tellin’.”

I’m too old these days for secrets or shame.

Ain’t nobody gonna judge me ’cept the Lord himself, and he already knows all about me.”

I been askin’ the Lord to spare you from the fields, and here he done answered my prayers.”

People who owned large parcels of land prior to the Civil War required vast numbers of laborers, the teacher said. Slaves had been brought over from Africa for that purpose. It never occurred to me to question whether they’d been mistreated or what a slave had to endure. Their existence was simply part of our country’s history.

“You ain’t got no choice, Frankie. We is slaves.”

“Frankie was owned,” I repeated.

once she left me alone, I took a book off the shelf and hurried outside with it. I had a good spot under a big ol’ tulip tree that I liked, out of sight of the house and fields. No one would bother me there.”

Was that the key to her surviving slavery? Believing God had a purpose in the midst of the pain? If so, how had she come by it?

the man in charge of the auction kept lowering the price, convincing me of my worthlessness.”

Yes, my father had done a terrible thing. He didn’t go to jail, but he would always pay the price for his poor decisions. Yet his story wasn’t mine. I was innocent in all that had transpired. Just because my birth date coincided with that fateful day didn’t mean I needed to carry around unnecessary guilt or shame.

don’t let anyone, not even your mother and father, keep you from doing what you know you’re called to do.”

“You’re a smart girl, Frankie. Ain’t nothin’ you can’t do if you set your mind to it.”

Mammy’d always said things like that, trying to teach me even though I was so hardheaded.

Maybe confidence in oneself had nothing to do with what other folks thought or did. Maybe it was deep down inside you, just waiting to be let loose like a spring of water gushing to the surface.

Wasn’t that what life was about? To know and be known. To offer encouragement to others and share the burdens we all face. No matter the color of one’s skin, weren’t we all supposed to care about each other?

I’d never dreamed this possible, but I’d just discovered something good actually came out of the crash and all the changes it brought to my life.

When the stock market crashed

and my life imploded, I’d asked God why. But after meeting Frankie and hearing her stories, I realized my family and I hadn’t truly suffered. We still

had a beautiful home, food on the table, help when it was needed from Grandma Lorena. My father’s failures were responsible for any losses...

Alden didn’t argue to make his point.

No doubt the prison hospital was brimming with fallen Rebs, but I had no desire to attend those men. They deserved to die, and nothing Sam said would change my mind.

it felt good to know there was Someone more powerful than the white people in charge of my world.

How could he ask me to love my enemies?

“Nothing was the same after that day.”

“Everything changed. Lucindia refused to come to the house after you were taken away. Mama wanted to sell her and your brother and sisters, but Papa refused. He said he’d never sell another slave again, especially a child. He and

Mama argued all the time after that. Charlotte wasn’t the same either. She cried a lot and had nightmares.”

It never occurred to me Mammy would refuse to go up to the big house after I was sold or that anyone ever regretted what happened to me. I’d always assumed life on the plantation continued with ...

I forgive you. You were just a child, like me. You couldn’t have stopped what your mama and pappy done.”

I couldn’t let him go without hope.

“You listen to me, Burton Hall. You’re gonna make it. Don’t let that missing arm rob you of the life God has for you. When this war is over, you come on home. You hear me?”

“Charlotte will be mighty glad to know you’re doing so well, Frankie. She never forgot you.”

“Hatred is a powerful thing. It can turn a person into something they ain’t.

“I hated that woman. I hated her with every bone in my body. For years I let that hatred feed my soul.

“It wasn’t until I saw Burton in that hospital, his arm cut off and looking so pitiful, that forgiveness finally took hold inside me.

finally saw him as he was—a man

who had no control over his situation, just as I’d been the day Miz Sadie beat me.”

“When I forgave him—when I actually said the words—all that hatred slipped away. Even the hatred I’d carried so long for Miz Sadie. It was gone.

“God healed her, Rena. Just like she said he would.”