Free The Color of Your Skin Ain’t the Color of Your Heart by Michael Phillips

about her more than he was letting on. Henry’d been around enough that all of us were used to him and knew he was our friend and wanted to help us. But having him there for the evening and all night … it just made it different—like we had to get used to him all over again.
    And it’s a funny thing about colored folk—as much as we talk about white folks treating us different, we treat each other different too. Black folks are mighty particular about how they expect other black folks to act, especially around white folks. They don’t want any other colored person taking liberties or getting too familiar with their whites. And so as much as I’d come to love Henry, all of a sudden I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye to see how he was with Katie, making sure he didn’t take too many liberties or speak too familiarly with her, making sure he behaved himself under Katie’s roof.
    It was silly, of course. Look at all the liberties I’d taken! Katie’d let me carry on practically like Rosewood belonged to me … and yet now I was watching Henry to make sure he didn’t get too uppity. No colored likes to see another colored acting uppity. I reckon it goes to show that even though I was black, I was still more bound to thinking about a person’s skin color than Katie was. And I could tell Emma was looking different at Henry too. If he’d been white, we’d have known where we stood and would have known how to act. But him being colored changed everything.
    But one thing we wouldn’t have had to worry about in a million years was Henry getting uppity. He didn’t have an uppity bone in his body. He was completely respectful of Katie, and all the rest of us too. He treated me like I was white and always called me Miz Mayme .
    When it was ready, we sat down to supper. As we were starting in, Henry looked around at us and said, “Ain’t you fergettin’ somefin?”
    I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But when he bowed his head and closed his eyes, I realized he was wondering why we hadn’t asked God’s blessing. It just hadn’t been something that Katie and I’d got in the habit of doing, I reckon.
    “Dear Lawd,” Henry prayed, “we thank you fer yo provishun fer us, an’ fer watchin ober us. Show us what ter do, an’ protect dese dear ones er yers. Amen.”
    Aleta was still silent as stone around Henry. When I opened my eyes after he was done praying, she was sitting there staring at him. But if she’d got used to me, I reckon she’d get used to him eventually too.
    The rain had started up hard again, but we were happy and warm inside. After supper Henry told us story after story about his boyhood on the Mississippi and had us laughing so hard, even Aleta. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed listening to the old colored uncles tell their stories. We didn’t blow out the lanterns for bed until so late in the night it was probably the next morning.
    As much as Katie protested, Henry wouldn’t hear of sleeping in the house.
    “You jes’ gib me a blanket er two an’ I’ll be happy as can be in da barn wiff the horses. I’ll fin’ me a dry bed ob straw an’ I’ll sleep like a baby.”

T HE S UN A GAIN
    11

    W HETHER IT WAS H ENRY’S COMING AND knowing somebody was watching out for us, or just not feeling so alone, as I lay in bed that night I felt more hopeful than I had in days. I drifted off to sleep, listening to the rain on the roof above me, feeling content and happy.
    I woke up in the middle of the night. It was pitch dark, but something felt strange. I lay there in the silence wondering what it was. Then suddenly it dawned on me—it was the silence . It was absolutely quiet.
    The rain had stopped!
    Gradually I drifted back to sleep. When I next woke up I was in for a surprise. Sunlight was streaming through the windows! It was so bright and unexpected it almost blinded me when I opened my eyes.
    “Katie! Katie!” I cried, jumping out of bed and running to