Free Together is All We Need by Michael Phillips Page A

kitchen, isn’t there, Reverend?’’ said Mr. Butler.
    â€˜â€˜It is a wonderful thing to behold indeed!’’ laughed Reverend Hall. ‘‘I can see why you call this a family, Kathleen,’’ he added, glancing about at all the activity, ‘‘and why Aleta was so fond of you all. There is truly life here!’’
    â€˜â€˜There wasn’t at first,’’ said Katie. ‘‘I’ll never forget that day when I first saw Mayme. My family was all dead. There was blood everywhere, not all of it even completely dry. Mayme’s family had just been killed too. There were no more of our people left to die, and it seemed that death was all we knew.’’
    The kitchen fell silent in the midst of Katie’s reflections.
    â€˜â€˜Then Emma came,’’ Katie continued, ‘‘because they were trying to kill her, and Aleta was alone after her mother—’’
    She paused and glanced across the table.
    â€˜â€˜I’m sorry, Mr. Butler.’’
    â€˜â€˜That’s quite all right, Miss Clairborne. Go ahead. I want to hear what you were going to say.’’
    â€˜â€˜I was just going to say that death is what brought Aleta to us too. It was almost like death was the only thing we had in common right at first. With everyone except for Josepha.’’
    â€˜â€˜Dat mistress ob mine, she’d a killed me effen she cud!’’ piped up Josepha from the other side of the room.
    We all laughed. But Katie continued, still in a serious tone.
    â€˜â€˜There were times back then when I didn’t know if I could stand it another day,’’ she said. ‘‘It was so horrible, so sad, and I was afraid of what would become of us. Even though my uncle’s going to take Rosewood away, we were all so happy together. You’re right, Reverend Hall . . . we are a family.’’
    â€˜â€˜God has been good to you—that is obvious,’’ he replied. ‘‘He has brought life out of death, as He always does. That is what our faith in Christ is all about, and you are living examples of it.’’
    He turned to Mr. Butler. ‘‘And He is bringing life back to your home, is He not, Hank?’’
    Mr. Butler nodded, but again I saw the look of pain in his eyes. ‘‘It is nice to have Aleta home,’’ he said. ‘‘And you all must have taught her well. Sometimes she is as busy in our kitchen as you are here—aren’t you, Aleta?’’
    â€˜â€˜Yes, Papa.—I fix all Papa’s meals, Katie!’’
    â€˜â€˜How old are you now, Aleta?’’ asked Reverend Hall.
    â€˜â€˜Eleven, sir.’’
    â€˜â€˜Eleven already! You will be a lady soon.’’
    â€˜â€˜She just had a birthday last week,’’ added her father. ‘‘Although she had to bake her own cake!’’
    â€˜â€˜What kin’ you make, chil’?’’ asked Josepha.
    â€˜â€˜Chocolate.’’
    â€˜â€˜Dat soun’ mighty good, all right!’’
    Aleta went over and stood behind her father.
    â€˜â€˜Dese yere hens an’ biscuits be nearly dun,’’ said Josepha. ‘‘How ’bout dem taters, Emma?’’
    â€˜â€˜Dey’s ready too, Josepha.’’
    â€˜â€˜Den I reckon hit’s time dat y’all git washed up ’cuz we’s nearly ready wiff dis dinner.’’
    As we sat down around the table a few minutes later, steam rising from several platters of hot food in front of us, I realized that this was the first big meal like this we’d had, with guests and everything, since we’d been together. Was this how life used to be all the time on big plantations for white folks? And here we were sitting down together, four whites and four blacks, like there was nothing unusual about it at all. Mrs. Hammond would probably have been