Glory In The Dust

Impulsively Catherine grabbed Harriet and gave her a hug.  “God bless you,” she said with emotion.  Harriet was rigid but did not push her away.  She smelled like brush and river water . . . and lots of other wild things.  Catherine, who could not stand uncleanness--particularly in women, thought how strangely wonderful the smell was. 

She released Harriet who stepped back and looked her in the face without changing her expression.  “God blesses me, all right,” she said defiantly.  “But you ain’t got no right to wish me God’s blessin’...you bein’ lovely, white, rich and free.  When me and my people are free like you, then you come and bless me.” 

Catherine was wounded to the depths.  She looked at the proud, notorious, defiant, brave little woman and her heart went out to her.  “Oh, Harriet,” she said, blinking back the tears, “if you only knew...you are freer than all of us.  I hope some day you will realize that.” 

Harriet was not impressed.  “Would you trade places with me if’n you could, Ma’am?” she asked.  Catherine did not answer and she felt confusion in her mind.  She had meant what she said.  Harriet Tubman was free . . . in a way that she or few other people have ever known or ever would know.  And yet, she would not trade places with Harriet if she could.  Harriet waited and then continued.  “Just tell the people of the South to give us our nach’al freedom, Ma’am, and we be happy wid that,” she said, her tone softer than before.  “The other kine’ can wait.” 

Catherine was driven by impulse but also by things she and her mother had talked about many times.  Perhaps now was the time.  “Harriet, if you wait here,” she said, “I will go and get Emmanuel.  You can take them both back with you, if you want to.” 

Harriet’s expression changed to one of reflection.  “She don’t want to go an leave her b’loved Mistress and her ‘Ole Kentucky Home’, Ma’am,” she said facetiously.  “That’s the big problem we got now.  It’s gonna take whole lot of gen’rations to get this servant’s mind out’n black peoples.” 

Catherine sighed.  How much she would like to help Harriet not make the mistakes of overreaction and wrong reactions.  “Oh, Harriet,” she asked passionately, “are you sure you want to do that?” 

Harriet looked at her with contempt.  “You got a servant’s mind in you, Ma’am?” she asked.

Catherine was quick to react.  “Yes,” she said.  “Yes I have...at least I think I do.  I believe God wants us to, and I feel that it is part of . . .”

“Maybe you have,” Harriet cut in, “but you got choice; we ain’t.”

“Yes, but . . .”

Harriet held up her hand for silence.  “I don’t want to talk about such things wid you, Ma’am, least ways not now and not here,” she said.  “I’m getting that worried feelin’.  It’s time we all be goin’.”  Harriet turned quickly to leave.  At the edge of the small clearing, she stopped and looked back.  Catherine smiled and waved her hand.  A hint of softness came to Harriet’s face, almost as if she wanted to smile back but could not do so without betraying the code that had driven her to such remarkable achievements.  She raised her hand from her side to above her belt and Catherine saw her fingers move slightly.  Then she was gone.