Free All Things New by Lynn Austin Page A

because we’re opening a school here in the village next week for all the Negro children. The American Missionary Association sent us a teacher, and we’re going to use the empty storage room in back as a classroom. Your children can start attending school on Monday. You may attend, too, if you’d like.”
    The news stunned Lizzie. “You mean . . . learn to read and write?”
    “Yes,” he said, laughing. “And all the other school subjects, too.”
    Lizzie covered her mouth, afraid she might burst into tears.
    “I want my children to go to your school,” Otis said. “It’s theonly way they’ll ever have a better life than we do. Lizzie and I will gladly stay and work at our old plantation if it means my kids can go to your school.”
    “Wonderful. They will be welcome here. What is the current working arrangement where you’re living? Are you tenant farmers? Sharecroppers?”
    “I don’t know what any of that means, sir. Massa Daniel only got back from the war a little while ago, and nothing’s been planted yet except the kitchen garden. I’m the only field hand left, and besides, we don’t have any mules for plowing.”
    “Miz Eugenia says we can keep on living in our cabin,” Lizzie added, “if I keep on working for her up at the Big House.”
    “I see. Well, if you’d like, I can help you draw up a working contract with the plantation owners. You’ll work the land for yourself, and when the crops are harvested, you’ll give a portion of the profits to the owners. The rest will be yours. You earned it. Each individual case is different, but the contract also spells out the arrangements for food and lodging.”
    “Like I said, Massa Daniel just got back from the war,” Otis said. “He ain’t got hisself together yet.”
    “I understand. You can let me know whenever you think he’s ready. And of course your children may start attending school right away.”
    Lizzie felt like she was in a dream, afraid she might wake up any minute. She wanted to sit down but didn’t dare. “Can I ask you something?” she said.
    “Sure, anything.”
    “Does being free mean that nobody can ever take Otis or my children away from me again?”
    “That’s right. Only the good Lord has a right to separate you from each other.”
    Lizzie covered her mouth again to hold back her tears. It was too much for her to take in. By the time they said good-bye and left for home with a sack of provisions, she felt dizzy. “Am I dreaming, Otis?” she asked.
    “If you are, then I’m dreaming, too. Wait till I tell Roselle and the boys that they can learn to read and write! . . . But that means staying on with Miz Eugenia, you know.”
    “I know. I guess I can stand it there a while longer.”
    She trusted Otis. He was the only sure thing in her life, and the only source of love she’d ever known. With him, she felt like somebody. She slipped her hand into his, determined to do whatever he thought was best.

7
    M AY 10, 1865
    Josephine sat at the breakfast table listening to her family’s litany of grievances. Their endless complaints were wearing holes in her threadbare soul like a constant scrubbing. Mother complained the most of all. “If only we had bacon to go with these eggs,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t even remember the last time we ate bacon, can you? It’s bad enough the chickens barely squeeze out enough eggs for breakfast every morning, but it’s hardly a proper meal without bacon or ham.”
    “I would dearly love some of Dolly’s strawberry jam to go with these biscuits,” Mary said. “They’re so dry.”
    Josephine tried not to think about such luxuries as bacon and jam.
    “I would like a cup of real coffee for a change,” Daniel said before disappearing behind his week-old newspaper again. More than a week had passed since he’d returned home, and Josephine kept hoping that he would climb out of the doldrums and get the plantation running again. He could never take Daddy’s