Wild, Beautiful, and Free(80)

I shook my head. “If I’m supposed to be doing it, wouldn’t I know that by now? Wouldn’t I be moved like you? Wouldn’t I hear a call?”

“Maybe you’re not listening good.” He took me by the wrist. His voice took on the gravity of thunder. This was a different Silas, one I didn’t recognize. The Silas I knew would never lay a hand on me. “Listen to me. I’ll say it right now. Jeannette Bébinn! You need to come with me to Atlanta.”

Silas drew on God’s power to be his own, and he would bring that power down on my head. I struggled to resist it, to know it for being Silas and not God pulling on me. But he used words to help him, words he knew to be the scripture I held closest to my heart.

“Thus saith the Lord, I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine!”

The fire was too hot, and I felt sick.

“No, Silas, no! Have mercy!”

“You already had plenty of mercy from what I can see. Mercy all up and down the years of your life. What you think allowed us to get on that train, with Boss Everett sittin’ right next to you, and us still making it up north?”

“You think I don’t know that? But who’s to say how I answer to that? It should come from me, from God speaking to me in my heart. I don’t feel the spirit you feel for this, Silas.”

“Then ask your heart, Jeannette. Pray with me right now and see where God wants you.”

He pulled me down to our knees, there in the dust in front of the fire. He concocted a plea to Jesus that he spoke out loud, calling on the Lord to plant a seed in my breast and bring me to righteousness. I couldn’t think for the sound of his voice, let alone pray. But after a while he was quiet, and I began the work of soothing my now-agitated state.

The way he talked, it all seemed too big—the dream of remaking Catalpa Valley, creating a community of free people. Even still harboring a hope of seeing Mr. Colchester again seemed fruitless. But I thought of him every night. I wondered where he laid his head, whether he was in health. Sometimes I closed my eyes and tried to conjure his face. I craved to see it again, to be ignited by his wild eyes. Where would I go if I failed? If Catalpa Valley was gone? What would it mean to me if Mr. Colchester was dead?

I opened my eyes and looked at Silas. His eyes were closed; his lips moved with whispered words. I had fled such horrors with this man. He had helped bring me to this current home, where I’d found meaningful work and sustenance. His arguments pointed to continuing a path with him that we seemed to have been walking for years. I was already living a kind of life with him. Catalpa Valley was nothing but a dream. But if all this were true, and if what Silas offered felt right to me in any way, it seemed I would, if I left him and found Catalpa Valley in ashes, want to go find him again. I didn’t have that kind of desire. The thought crystallized within me: I can’t go with him because I don’t love him.

I stood up and left Silas and walked a little ways into the piney woods. He didn’t follow—maybe didn’t even realize I’d gone—and I was glad of it. The tall straight trunks were like pillars all around me, forming a space that felt, to me, like somewhere God could walk in and just sit and listen. So I knelt at the base of one of the trees, took out the stone from Catalpa Valley, and put it on the ground in front of me. Then I pulled the locket from underneath my shirt, took it off, and opened it. I laid it there next to the stone. I prayed to God and to my parents to guide me. My heart beat fast, and soon a sensation spread through me like the earth rumbling within me, like the moment before a cannon fires. The feeling set my whole being astir, like it was about to be broken open. It felt familiar, like home, and the sensation was bringing me back to myself. I heard the rest of the scripture passage that Silas had begun, and I spoke aloud these words, which struck a chord that went ringing through my soul.

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee.”

I was not alone. Yes, called by my name, but free to run toward my heart, toward whatever my life held in store for me. And it would be all right. God would not, would never, forsake me.

I knelt on the cold ground, breathing cold air, but gently, ever so gently, the air changed. It held a hint of warmth, and I detected but couldn’t identify a slight scent. I didn’t dare move; I didn’t want to disturb it. I folded myself up on the ground and closed my eyes and waited. There was water in this air and a hint of jasmine and magnolia blossom. None of these features fit the time of year or the place. I knew this because I soon recognized what I was taking in: Louisiana; the air of soft evenings; the air before storms; the air that carried water and flowers and endowed even the grayest of days with possibility. My home.

I unfolded from my prayer as though emerging again from the womb. I would turn in the direction of my mother’s blood, of my father’s voice, of my heart’s love.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I am coming.”

Silas’s steps were behind me, but I ignored him and headed for my tent. He couldn’t force his will anymore. I had come into my own power, and in the gloam of those woods I could see as clearly as if it were a bright summer day. I rode that energy, and I knew for certain that it would take me, forever, away from him.

“Leave me alone,” I said.

The heat from the coals in the mess pan engulfed me when I entered the tent. I’d lost all thought about the cold until I’d been hurrying from the woods and felt it sharp against my face. Carrie and Martha, making their preparations for our departure, dropped their tasks and rushed to me.