Good Fortune (9781416998631) by Noni Carter Read Free Book Online Page A

myself to find the places and the treasures that hid from me in the fields and in the Big House. He’d never stay long, however, and I settled it in my mind that he had only a small place in the back of his mind for me. When I could, I turned from what my heart whispered and set my mind onto letters, rules, and other school knowledge.
    But there were other times—when I took the two little ones outside to play, or when I dumped waste from the House before heading out into the fields later in the day—that he’d just appear. With a passing word or a lazy smile, he’d fix a gaze on my face that I’d turn away from without a single change to my countenance, but with a pleasure under my skin.
    That glimmer I had seen in his eye that first Sunday, however, had never returned, and I held myself back from expressing something that stirred deep down in my soul. I called it a good old friendship and turned my mind off to the notion of anything more. My heart was mine to keep.
    Early one Sunday morning, I found my way up a hill a good distance away from the Big House. It was plantation property, but the land here wasn’t being used. When I could on Sunday mornings, when fatigue didn’t strap me to my pallet, I’d steal away here to watch the sunrise, to take in the peace. But most times, I’d escape here after church when I wasn’t needed in the Big House, or when Daniel bid me to leave him be, sneaking past the watchful eyes of slave row. Mary was the only one who knew.
    I climbed up to the top and stretched out on my belly, the grass tickling my ankles. Shutting my eyes, I felt all my concerns seep out of my body and disappear on the wind. A calm energy that felt like God spread through me.
    â€œThank you fo’ this.” I spoke softly to the heavens.
    That hill was my hill, or so I loved to believe. Here, I got away from all the struggles of a slave’s life. The birds and animals felt it, as did the plants and trees. It was my turn to share in God’s beauty. I squinted my eyes against the late-summer sun as I imagined distant mountains that stretched so far into the heavens, they had to be free from bondage and suffering, hate and sorrow, mental and physical pain.
    I wish I was a bird or an angel so I could sprout feathers and wings and simply fly away, gliding, free as the wind!
    â€œWouldn’t it be somethin’ to stand atop them trees?” A deep voice shook me from my daydreams. I hadn’t even heard his footsteps, yet John was seating himself by me, admiring the beautiful scene.
    â€œYou follow me up here? I know you did,” I said, turning to him.
    â€œNope! Got up real early, an’ the wind jus’ a carried me here, to this place.”
    â€œYou tellin’ the truth?” I asked.
    â€œWouldn’t tell
you
nothin’ otha than the truth.” And I could see that glimmer in his eyes that I had let slip from my mind.
    I turned and began scraping the dirt from beneath my fingernails. He bent his knees up with his legs out wideand tossed his arms over his knees. I stole another long glance in his direction and studied his upturned face. His complexion was a rusty brown with a hint of red and a dab of honey—three colors that melted together in harmony. John had thick jaws and a large face that fit well on his long but broad neck and his tall body. His nose spread wide when he sat deep in thought, and his lips were like two pieces of clay perfectly molded together. His dark eyes curled at the corners.
    â€œThere ain’t nothin’ more beautiful than God’s work. Us here, we God’s work, jus’ as them white folks, but they done gotten away from God an’ doin’ good an’ took ’vantage of his work. Done made us slaves. Slaves the makin’ of human folk, not God’s makin’.” He nodded at his own words, adding, “but them folks ain’ bad.” John’s deep voice held a