Charleston, South
Carolina
April 1861
The room was still dark when the first cannon fired. The explosion jolted Kitty awake and for a moment she forgot where she was. She sat up on her pallet, her heart thudding, and saw bright flashes of light outside the window. Then she remembered saying good-bye to Delia and Grady, and leaving Beaufort to travel back to Massa Goodman’s Charleston town house with Missy. A moment later, Kitty heard three more explosions. The floor trembled and the windows rattled with every boom.
“Kitty!” Missy Claire called in a frightened voice. “Light the lamps! Hurry!”
Kitty scrambled to obey. This was why Missy had insisted that Kitty sleep on the floor of her room all night instead of out back in the slaves’ quarters. She saw Missy sitting upright in the big feather bed, clutching the covers to her bosom.
“Fetch my robe and shoes,” she said. “I want to go out on the piazza and see what’s going on.”
Kitty put on her own shawl and went outside to stand beside Missy on the third-floor porch. They both shivered in the early dawn air. Out in the harbor in front of them, the horizon glowed like a sheet of orange flame. Battery after battery of heavy guns pounded Fort Sumter with a rumbling, thundering noise that never ceased. Kitty could see cannon fire pouring into the distant fort from three sides.
Massa Goodman joined them a moment later, wrapping one arm around his daughter’s shoulders as they stared into the distance. “Well, it has begun,” he said grimly. “The war is on.”
Kitty had stood here with Missy and her father last evening and heard him explain the coming battle. Rebel forces were stationed on Morris Island and James Island on their right, at Castle Pinkney and Fort Ripley in front of them, and at Mount Pleasant and Sullivan’s Island on their left. Fort Sumter was nearly surrounded as all these batteries aimed their cannons at it, demanding surrender by four o’clock in the morning on April 12. Missy’s new husband was out in the middle of it all, stationed with the Beaufort Artillery at a place called Fort Stevens on Morris Island. His sons were among the cadets from the Citadel who manned guns in White Point Gardens, just down the street from the house. They would fire on any warships that sailed past the batteries and into the harbor to bombard the city.
As the cannonading continued, dense smoke filled the horizon, shielding everything from view, at times, except flashes of fire. Kitty thought that the dull gray color of the sky and the water and the smoke was a good color to paint death and destruction. It was the color of tombstones. Only the brilliant speckles of red and orange from exploding shells and flames relieved the gloom.
Eventually she went back inside with Missy to help her dress. But Missy wouldn’t eat, worried as she was about her husband. The bombardment went on and on, until it seemed to Kitty that the whole city of Charleston shook like an earthquake.
Later that morning, Massa Goodman’s friends and family members began to arrive, gathering on the piazzas to watch the battle out in the harbor. They talked in quiet, grave voices, as if at a funeral. On the streets below, masses of people crowded along the promenade to watch. They’d done the same thing last evening as they’d waited for the battle to begin. Now it had, and spectators packed every rooftop and piazza and street along the waterfront.
Hours passed as the deafening noise continued. Kitty could see streaks of flame and smoke shooting out from the fort as Union soldiers returned fire on the ring of batteries surrounding them. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and smoke. Missy Claire’s sisters and aunts and cousins huddled together, weeping for all their loved ones who were taking part in the battle.
“I can’t bear this terrible waiting,” one of her cousins moaned. “If only we would hear some news.”
“I wish Roger had never left Beaufort,” Missy wept. “Why did he have to come here to fight?”
Kitty had heard Massa Roger explain the reason to Missy when they were still home in Beaufort. “The U.S. government is trying to send a ship to resupply Fort Sumter,” he’d said. “The Rebels ordered them to abandon the fort or face hostile fire.” Massa’s artillery unit had been needed to help force the Yankees to surrender.
But Delia had offered a different explanation. “The Lord’s hearing our prayers,” she’d told the slaves as they’d gathered in the kitchen in Beaufort. “That’s what this is all about, not some silly old fort. There’s a bunch of good Christian folks up north who been working hard to set us all free. The slave owners here in South Carolina know that, and they all fighting to keep us slaves.”
Kitty missed Delia. She missed Grady, too. They hadn’t been allowed to come to Charleston. As she stood on the piazza of the Goodmans’ town house, Kitty didn’t think that the little fort out in the harbor looked like it was worth fighting for. She listened to the rolling boom of artillery fire and the women weeping, and she wondered how it would all end. Was all this noise and fear necessary just so Missy and the others could keep their slaves?
“I can’t watch anymore,” Missy said. But she stayed anyway, twisting her handkerchief in her hands.
“Can I get you anything, Missy Claire?” Kitty asked.
“No! This is all your fault!”
Kitty knew she didn’t mean it. Missy Claire was just upset because Massa Fuller was out there where all the shooting was going on. Kitty wondered what it would be like if Grady was fighting in a war, being shot at this way. What if she didn’t know if he were dead or alive—or if she would ever see him again? The thought upset her. Even though they’d only been married a short 190 time, even though it wasn’t a real marriage like Missy Claire’s, she still cared about Grady. And she believed that he cared for her, too. He’d given up all his other girlfriends just for her. That meant something, didn’t it?
“Why can’t the North just leave us alone instead of trying to interfere with our way of life?” Missy said. “It’s none of their business if you’re my slave,” she told Kitty.
“Save your breath,” Missy’s cousin said, comforting her. “Slaves are too stupid to even understand what we’re talking about.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” another cousin said. “I saw a bunch of our slaves whispering together this morning. I think they’re just biding their time, waiting to start an uprising. They may act stupid, but they hate us, you know.”
“No, they don’t.”
But Kitty knew at least one slave who did. Grady hated white folks enough to murder them all in their beds.
Missus Goodman joined the little group to try to comfort Missy. “Maybe you should go inside and lie down, Claire.”
“That won’t help. I can still hear the battle. Oh, why didn’t Roger take an exemption, like Father did? He owns more than twenty slaves. He didn’t have to be drafted.”
“You’re just going to get yourself all worked up for nothing,” Missus Goodman said.
“It’s hardly nothing, Mother. If Roger dies, then I’ll have nothing. Everything will go to his son, Ellis, instead of to me. Not only that, but I’ll have to be in mourning for at least a year. I won’t be able to remarry for ages.”
A prickle of fear shuddered through Kitty at her words. If Massa Fuller died, Grady would belong to one owner and she to another. They would be torn apart, just as her parents had been. Like Missy Claire, Kitty began to fear for Massa’s life, too.
“As soon as this ends, you’d better hurry up and have a son,” Mrs. Goodman told Missy. “He won’t be Roger’s firstborn, but at least he’ll be entitled to a portion of his estate.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Mother.”
A while later, Massa Goodman pulled out his pocket watch. “Well, it’s been going on for twelve hours now,” he announced, “and there’s still no sign of a surrender.”
“Maybe there’s no one alive over there to raise the flag,” one of the men said. “We’ve been pouring thousands of rounds of ammunition into the place.”
“No, they’re still firing back,” another gentleman said. “Here, see for yourself.” He offered his opera glasses to Massa Goodman for a better look.
“Yes, it looks like the Yankees are pounding Fort Moultrie at the moment. I wonder how much longer this will go on.”
Kitty wondered, too. She was tired of standing outside on the piazza, tired of the noise and the smoke and the fear. She wanted Massa to come back safely so she could go home to Beaufort. The thought startled her. Was Beaufort her home? She had lived there for only a few months—how had it become home to her already? Kitty knew the answer: Grady and Delia were there.
Just before dinner, a messenger finally arrived with some news. “There have been no injuries at any of our batteries on Morris and Sullivan’s Islands,” he announced. A cheer went up from the little group. “Fort Stevens was hit several times, but there was no damage and no casualties. That means Roger is fine.”
Missy’s knees went weak with relief. She fell into her mother’s arms in a swoon. Kitty ran inside to fetch the smelling salts.
By six o’clock it had begun to rain, and everyone moved indoors. It was still storming at bedtime, the wind whipping tree branches against the house and lashing rain against the windows. But the terrible bombardment never let up. Missy ordered Kitty to remain with her for the night, sleeping on the floor beside the bed again, in case she was needed. Kitty curled up with a blanket, but she didn’t sleep. At dawn, a full day after the first cannon had fired, the battle still raged.
The storm had cleared away much of the smoke, and the sky was so brilliantly blue it made Kitty’s chest ache. One of Massa Goodman’s relatives set up a telescope on the piazza, and the men took turns gazing through it, describing what they saw to the anxious ladies.
“Sumter’s on fire. There’s a lot of black smoke, and I think I see flames… . Yes, I definitely see flames.”
The ladies cheered delicately and clapped their hands.
“Looks like three or four Union ships are anchored out there beyond the bar, but they don’t seem inclined to join the battle.”
“That’s because they know we’ll blow them out of the water if they come within range.”
Massa Goodman was peering through the telescope after lunch when Kitty heard him exclaim, “Look! They’ve taken down the Stars and Stripes! They’re flying the white flag!”
“No! Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes! See for yourself!”
Kitty’s heart pounded with excitement and hope. Maybe now all this terrible worrying would end. Massa would come back, and they could all return home to Beaufort. Missy would have a baby, and maybe Grady would change his mind and give Kitty one, too.
The bombardment slowed to a halt. Then silence. The terrible shooting had finally stopped. The hush seemed eerie after a day and a half of thunderous noise. Everyone waited for the smoke to clear.
“The white flag is definitely flying,” Massa Goodman said. “And I can see a ship of truce heading toward the fort.”
It was over. As soon as Missy Claire received the news that there had been no fatalities on either side, she went to her room, lay down on her bed, and wept. Church bells pealed all over the city, and the cadets in White Point Gardens sent up a seven-gun salute, one for each state in the new Confederacy. Massa Goodman and all the other gentlemen hurried to the docks, boarding any ship they could find to sail out to the victorious batteries to celebrate.
When Kitty went outside to the kitchen for dinner, she found the mood among the slaves quiet and subdued. “What do you think all this excitement means?” she asked them.
Albert the coachman sighed. “It means we’re all gonna be slaves a while longer,” he said.
On Sunday afternoon, just as Kitty was leaving the house with Missy Claire to watch the cadets’ dress parade at White Point Gardens, a carriage pulled to a halt in front of the house. Massa Fuller stepped out, his face dirty, his nice new uniform smudged with soot. Kitty felt as relieved to see him as her mistress did. Claire ran into his arms.
“Thank God you’re safe, Roger. And thank God it’s over.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid it has only begun, Claire. There’s likely to be a full-scale war now.”
His words sent a tremor of fear through Kitty. She thought she understood now what a war was all about—bombs falling and guns shooting, the endless waiting and uncertainty and fear. The past few days had been frightening enough for all of them. She didn’t want to think about an entire future spent that way.
“But at least we won the first battle,” Massa Roger said, smiling. “God willing, we’ll win all the rest of them, too.”
“Come inside,” Missy Claire said, leading him up the front steps. “How long can you stay?”
“My artillery unit has been ordered back to Beaufort. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
Kitty could have danced with joy. But Massa’s next words filled her with dread.
“Claire, I know it’s lonely for you in Beaufort, especially since I’m away so often. I’ll understand if you would like to stay here in Charleston with your family.”
Kitty held her breath, waiting for Missy to decide, hoping she wouldn’t choose to stay. Kitty would have to stay here in Charleston with her.
“I want to be with you, Roger,” Missy finally said.
Kitty closed her eyes in relief. She was going home—home to Grady and Delia. When she opened them again, she felt tears in her eyes. She quickly excused herself, so Missy wouldn’t notice, and ran upstairs to start packing for the trip.
Beaufort, South Carolina
June 1861
Kitty balanced Missy Claire’s breakfast tray in one hand so she could knock softly on her bedroom door with the other. As soon as she heard Missy mumble something, she went inside.
“I brought you some break—”
“Take it away!” Missy shouted. “I don’t even want to smell food!” She leaned over the side of the bed, holding both hands over her mouth as if she was about to be sick.
Kitty quickly retreated, closing the door behind her. She stood in the hallway for a moment, wondering what to do, then set the tray down on the hall table and slipped back into the room without it. “You needing the basin, Missy Claire?”
“No … there’s nothing in my stomach.” She lay back against the pillows again, her face pale. Kitty picked up a folding fan and waved it to cool her.
“Is that better, Missy?”
“I don’t think I can help out at the hospital today,” she said weakly. “I don’t feel very well.”
“Should I tell them ‘never mind’ about getting your carriage ready?”
Missy nodded. The two of them had been going downtown to a warehouse on the wharf every day this week, working with the other women of Beaufort to organize a small two-room hospital. It would be used, if necessary, for injured soldiers who were from outside the Beaufort area. Soldiers from town would be nursed in their own homes, of course. Kitty had enjoyed working alongside her mistress and the other slaves, and she was disappointed that they weren’t going today. But she was also very worried about Missy. She had been feeling sick and miserable for the past two days, but she’d never wanted to stay in bed before.
“I think I better go fetch Delia, Missy Claire. She would know which doctor Massa Fuller would send for if he was home.”
Missy waved her hand in dismissal as if too sick to reply, and Kitty ran downstairs to find Delia. “Missy hasn’t eaten much at all for the past few days,” she explained as the older woman slowly plodded up the steps with her. “This morning she didn’t even want to smell the food, and she’s too sick to get out of bed. Should we send for the doctor?”
Delia glanced at the breakfast tray as she paused in the upstairs hallway to catch her breath. “Well, let’s see …” She led the way into the room, leaving the door open.
“Shut the door!” Missy yelled. “That bacon smells nauseating!”
Kitty quickly pushed the door closed, then picked up the fan again to chase the smell away from Missy’s nose.
Delia stood beside the bed, looking down at her. “I can fetch the doctor for you if you want me to, Missus Fuller, but I think I know what he’s gonna say.”
“What?”
“Well, first he’s gonna ask when’s the last time you had the ‘curse of women.’”
Missy’s cheeks flushed bright pink. Kitty fanned harder.
“Then he’s gonna ask if you’re feeling a little tender up on top when Kitty pulls the corset laces tight.”
Missy nodded slightly.
“Well, I ain’t no doctor,” Delia said, “but it looks to me like you’re gonna have a baby, Missus Fuller.”
She groaned. “How long will I feel this way? I can’t even bear the thought of food.”
“The sickness usually goes away in two or three months. I can fix you some tea that might help. So will a little plain toast. Shall I go fetch you a tray?”
“Fine. As long as you don’t bring me any food with a strong smell.”
Kitty was relieved to know that her mistress’s illness wasn’t something serious like measles or ague. She wondered why Missy didn’t look any happier. “That’s real good news, ain’t it, Missy?” she said after Delia left. “I know you been wanting to give Massa Fuller a baby. Maybe now you will.”
Missy groaned and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I didn’t know that having a baby was going to make me feel this awful.”
Kitty smiled to try and cheer her up, but Missy returned the look with an angry glare. “And what about you? You should be feeling just as miserable as I do by now. Why haven’t you and that stupid coachman of yours made a baby yet?”
A jolt of fear shot through Kitty. She had been so afraid this would happen, so afraid that Missy would get mad. She wished Delia would hurry back and help her explain things. But there was no sign of Delia. “I-I don’t know why, Missy Claire. I’m sorry—”
“Sorry doesn’t help. What am I going to do about a wet nurse? You were supposed to have a baby before I did.”
“I-I know, Missy. But getting upset is only gonna make you feel worse. Let me get Delia. She’ll know how to help.”
“Never mind about Delia.” Missy struggled to sit up in bed. “Now, you listen to me, girl. You’d better do what you’re told in the next few weeks or I’ll have to find someone else to replace you. Do you want to go back to the rice fields?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, if you don’t have a baby soon, that’s exactly where you’re going. You’re worthless to me without a baby. If you aren’t going to be my wet nurse, then I’ll fetch one from Great Oak Plantation and I’ll send you back there.”
It was not an idle threat. Kitty knew that Missy Claire would do it. Why had Kitty ever agreed to deceive her? The worst thing she could have possibly done was to make Missy angry. Now she was going to separate her and Grady and send her away from the home and the people she’d grown to love.
Kitty worried about what to do for the rest of the day. Missy yelled at her for every little thing and glared angrily at her every time she walked into the room, reminding Kitty of her dilemma. “I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Missy growled as Kitty brushed her hair. “I should have known it would be a mistake to rely on you.”
Late that afternoon, Grady returned home with Massa Fuller for the first time in nearly a week. But Kitty had no opportunity to talk to him alone or even to ask Delia what to do. She worried and worried, picturing the drab slaves’ cabins back at Great Oak Plantation, remembering the rice fields and the sting of the overseer’s lash, and imagining life without Grady. By the time she returned to her own room to go to sleep, Kitty knew what she needed to do. She lit a candle and sat down on the bed, waiting for Grady to come upstairs to get his blankets.
“Where have you and Massa been running off to every day?” she asked before he could go back downstairs for the night. “You’re hardly ever home these days.”
“I know,” he said wearily. “Now that the war has started, all the white folks are acting crazy.”
“What does Massa do all day?”
Grady sighed and sank down on a wooden crate. “Him and all the other white men are getting a regiment together called the Ninth South Carolina volunteers to try and protect the seacoast. They’re worried that the Yankees are gonna come with a bunch of warships and try and take Beaufort.”
“You think the Yankees are gonna come here?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “But Massa and the others are building two big forts to try and stop them.”
“Here in town? Over on the Point?”
He shook his head. “Give me your pencil and I’ll show you.”
Kitty brought him the pencil and a scrap of paper, then crouched beside him as he drew a rough map.
“Beaufort and Port Royal are inland from the ocean, on a bay. The Rebels are building Fort Walker over here on Hilton Head Island, and Fort Beauregard across from it on St. Helena Island to guard the entrance into the bay. The Yankees are gonna have to sail right between the two forts to get to Beaufort.”
“Missy Claire said Massa’s been going down to the Green on the Point every day. She said we was gonna go over sometime and watch him drilling all the soldiers.”
“Yeah, we been going over there, too,” Grady said with another sigh. “There’s a whole bunch of new soldiers that are needing to be trained, so they’re using the Green. They’re camping over there and everything. When the forts are done, most of the soldiers will be sent there. The rest will guard the railroad between Charleston and Savannah. The town of Pocotaligo is on that railroad line, halfway between the two cities. It’s only eighteen miles from here.”
“And you been driving Massa to all these places?” she asked.
“Yeah. And then standing around in the heat all day, waiting for him. Here …” Grady handed her the paper and pencil, then stood and stretched. “I drew real lightly so you could erase it again.”
She watched him unbutton his shirt and hang it on the peg where he kept his clothes. He usually undressed in the dark but Kitty had left the candle burning as they’d talked. When he turned his back, she saw the mass of ugly scars crisscrossing his beautiful brown skin. She longed to smooth them away, to make his skin whole again, and to erase the memory of that night. As long as the scars were there to remind him, she knew that Grady was never going to erase the hatred he felt, either.
She laid down the paper and went to him, embracing him from behind, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She felt the June sunshine in the sweaty warmth of his body and inhaled his scent of leather and horses.
“Hey, now. What’s the hug for?” he asked.
“I missed you, Grady.” Delia had told her that making a baby wasn’t wrong if she was married. She and Grady were.
He turned and pulled her close, wrapping her tightly in his arms, laying his cheek against her hair. She felt the strength in his arms and shoulders, and knew she was safe.
“Anna …” he whispered.
She savored his embrace for a long moment, then lifted her face for his kiss. She saw the longing in his eyes, but he pried her arms from around his waist and stepped back.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because I want you … and I won’t be able to stop with one kiss.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said, embracing him again. “We’re married, Grady. We love each other. It’s okay.”
He pulled her close again and kissed her. At first he was gentle and tender with her. But Kitty felt his growing passion, and a glow of warmth spread through her like candle wax melting beneath a flame. It was the most wonderful feeling she ever had. She never wanted his kisses to end.
But they did. Grady stopped suddenly. She felt a shiver pass all the way through him. He pushed her away again.
“I need to go.”
He turned his back on her and rummaged quickly through his belongings, as if eager to flee. Kitty felt a terrible loss. She had made up her mind to entice him tonight because she was afraid of Missy’s punishment, but everything had changed once he’d started kissing her. She loved him. And she wanted desperately for him to love her in return. He was only a few feet away from her, but as he hurried toward the door, she never felt more alone in her life. Kitty covered her face and wept.
Grady paused in the doorway. “Anna, please don’t cry. I’m sorry … I wish things could be different. But they can’t.”
Kitty cried harder still. She hadn’t wept this way since the day she’d learned about her parents. She couldn’t make herself stop.
Grady came back and held her gently. She could feel him restraining the desire he’d shown a moment ago, as if trying to halt a galloping horse. “Don’t cry … please.”
“I don’t understand,” she sobbed. “We’re man and wife. We’ve been married for four months. I want to be with you, Grady.”
“I know, Anna, but we can’t. I’m sorry … I need to go.” He released her and turned to leave.
Kitty felt a wave of panic as she remembered Missy’s threats. She and Grady were going to be torn apart forever, just like her parents had been.
“Grady, wait! Missy’s gonna separate us if we don’t have a baby!”
He froze in the doorway, then slowly turned to face her. “Is that what this is all about?”
“Missy found out she’s gonna have a baby, and she said she’s gonna send me back to Great Oak Plantation if we don’t have one, too.”
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Kitty saw shock and sorrow and anger all mingled together on his face. “You started this tonight because she’s wanting you to?” he asked.
“Grady, listen—”
“I guess that makes me a pretty big fool. I thought you really cared.”
“I do care! I love you, Grady.”
“No, Anna. First you have to love yourself. Then you’ll be able to love somebody else.”
“What do you mean? What makes you think I don’t?”
“Because if you had any self-respect at all, you wouldn’t be wanting to do everything Missy Claire’s telling you to do.”
“But she’s gonna send me away!”
“Maybe that ain’t such a bad thing. Maybe if you got away from her, you’d start seeing things more clearly.”
“Don’t you love me, Grady?”
The surprise and sadness faded from his eyes. The only thing left was anger. “Can’t nobody love you, girl, until you learn to love yourself. You obey that white woman like you were her dog—like you’re dirt under her feet and she can walk all over you. Think a man can love dirt? Think a man wants a dog for his woman?”
“Grady, wait! Come back!” But he slammed the door on his way out, and his footsteps thundered down the stairs. A moment later the stable door slammed, too. Kitty lay down on the bed and sobbed.
A long while later she heard the stairs creaking as someone slowly ascended them. She looked up, hoping to see Grady coming back to apologize, but when the door opened, it was Delia.
“Grady asked me to come,” she said. “He told me what happened.” “I love him, Delia.”
She sat down on the bed where Kitty lay and gently stroked her hair. “Are you sure, honey? Because Grady told me you was worried about Missy Claire being mad at you.”
“She’s gonna send me back to Great Oak Plantation if I don’t have a baby.”
“No, she won’t. She might be needing to find another slave for a wet nurse, but she won’t be sending you away. She depends on you. You said it yourself, time and time again—Missy’s acting mad but she don’t really mean it. She’s feeling poorly right now, that’s all.”
“But I do love Grady. I think about him all the time when he’s away. And when he kisses me I … I don’t ever want him to stop. You said it wasn’t wrong to make a baby if we’re married and if I loved him. I do love him, Delia. And I can tell by the way he kisses me that he loves me, too.”
“Honey, you need to forget about loving Grady.”
“But he’s my husband. Why are you telling me to forget him?”
“The only thing you’re gonna get from Grady is your heart broke. I love that boy like he was my own, but he can’t love anybody back.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“He got his own heart broken when he was a little boy, snatched away from a mama who loved him. He traveled with that soul trader for four years and saw folks ripped away from their loved ones every day, bought and sold like cattle. Now he’s scared to love you, scared he might lose you, too—and he’s got a right to be scared. Slaves are getting torn apart from their husbands and wives all the time.”
That was exactly what Missy had threatened to do. Kitty remembered her own parents again and shivered.
“Besides, Grady’s heart is too filled with hate to make any room for love,” Delia continued. “He’s gonna have to get rid of it all, first. But the way things been going—him getting whipped by those paddyrollers and all—the hate just keeps getting worse and worse.”
“How can I help him?”
“The only one who can help him is Jesus, and right now Grady’s mad at Him, too.”
“Why’s he mad at Jesus?”
“People are always thinking they can use the Lord to get their own way—all they have to do is pray and God’s gonna take away all their suffering and give them whatever they ask for. But it don’t work that way. God’s doing His business, and it’s up to us to be serving Him, not the other way around.”
“Then why do people pray at all? My papa asked Jesus to help him escape with me when I was just a little girl. But Jesus didn’t help us.”
“Praying ain’t about asking for your own way. It’s all about talking things over with God, just like you and me are talking things over. In the end, you have to be trusting the Lord to do what’s best.”
“So the Lord thought it was best that my papa died and my mama was sold?”
Delia slowly shook her head. “I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know. The hardest thing of all to understand is why a loving God keeps letting us suffer. That’s what Grady’s always wrestling with, too. I don’t know what to tell him because I don’t know all the answers myself. I seen my share of suffering, believe me. But there’s two things I do know for sure. One is that God loves us—you, me, Grady, and even the white folks. And the second thing is that God’s always in control of everything that happens. When bad things come our way and it starts looking like He don’t love us, all I can say is that maybe we ain’t knowing everything He knows.”
Kitty’s tears started falling again. “I still don’t understand.”
“Remember what you told me about the fighting up in Charleston? How you was standing on that porch, not able to see what’s going on? This here’s the same thing. We’re standing in the smoke, hearing the noise all around us, and we don’t know what God’s doing because we can’t see things as clearly as He sees them. But He’s gonna make everything turn out okay when the smoke clears. When it does, God’s gonna be the winner and all our suffering here on earth is gonna finally make sense. We’re gonna look in Jesus’ face and say, ‘O Lord, it was worth it all.’”
“What should I do about Missy Claire? She’s real mad at me, Delia. I can tell.”
“She’ll get over it. Sooner or later she’ll figure out that she can’t be snapping her fingers and making somebody have a baby just because she wants them to.”
“And what about Grady?”
“Don’t be tempting that poor boy no more, honey. He’s already carrying around a load that’s much too big for his shoulders.”
Kitty began to cry again as soon as she was alone. If only Grady were here to hold her in the darkness. If only they could have a baby like Missy wanted them to. Maybe then this terrible dread Kitty felt would finally go away.