The Black Rose by Tananarive Due Page A

maybe in his twenties, and he didn’t have his beard, but Sarah could tell it was him from his eyes, which were twinkling with life even though his face had no smile. Ole Marse Long had let Papa pose for that photograph before the war, when his whole family sat for portraits, and Mama had been busy washing clothes that day. Mama had said many times she wished she had a picture of her face, too. She said she had nearly forgotten what her own mammy and pappy looked like, and she wanted to leave something for her children to remember her by.
    Sarah hadn’t understood how important remembering was, until now.
    She climbed down from the chair, her sobs nearly gone, and slid the precious photograph of Papa under her pallet. She might not ever get Mama’s Bible-book back from Louvenia, she knew. Louvenia might give it back to her if Sarah told her about the reading promise she’d made to Mama, but she also might not. Louvenia was so contrary! Besides, her sister had been acting half crazy since Mama and Papa died, and Papa said crazy folks would do anything. She’d thrown the book in the creek, maybe, just to show God how mad she was.
    So Sarah made a new vow, not to Jesus, but to herself: She would keep Papa’s photograph, always. And this time she didn’t make the vow as a bargain to try to bring Papa back, either. This time she figured if she kept that vow, no matter how much time passed, her father wouldn’t really be gone at all.
     
    Sarah never did see the Bible-book again, but Louvenia’s “crazy” spell seemed to pass just in time for her to fall silently industrious so that she and Sarah could somehow make do on their own. Food was the constant struggle, since Mama’s garden had begun to fail without her expert touch. Within a month, the food their neighbors had brought for them after the funeral had dwindled to nearly nothing except some salt pork and a sack of black-eyed peas. In the beginning, Missus Anna stopped by the first Sunday of every month with a pail of milk and a treat, like a jar of sweet-tasting marmalade or a delicious candy she called peanut brittle. Sarah looked forward to those baskets from Missus Anna more than she’d ever remembered anticipating even Christmas, but they stopped after a while.
    Sarah and Louvenia rarely ate even chicken anymore, since the chickens had become more valuable than ever for their eggs. Louvenia let some of the eggs hatch so they’d have more chickens, but it took time for the chicks to get big enough to be much use either as food or as laying hens. When three of the growing chicks vanished, probably killed by the wild hound who hunted nearby, Sarah cried about it all night. Seem like we can’t git nothin’, she thought bitterly, and that thought flung her into a dark hopelessness for days.
    Delta, Louisiana, was not a friendly place for two young girls trying to survive on their own. It was a very small town with most of the colored folks scattered throughout the farmlands, and they were struggling too much to consider taking in two more children. Most of their neighbors, like Missy Laura, were too poor to be of any help except occasional visits to hold their hands for prayers and to tell them God would provide. There was a man-size hole in their roof after the summer rains for nearly three months, until Alex saved up enough money and fixed it with two of his Vicksburg friends during one of his visits. Alex had found work on a dock, and Sarah noticed that he’d bought himself shiny black boots and a pair of denim blue jeans.
    Meanwhile, Louvenia became very earnest about her sewing, using the money she got from Alex, the hens’ eggs, and the washing to buy material for winter clothes. Sarah helped her, counting out coins on the table by lamplight at the end of the day, trying to guess how many they would need to buy what. Many times their guesses fell short of the prices at the store and they had to leave with less than they’d wanted. When Louvenia