Morning Star by Judith Plaxton Page B

fridge, poured a glass of milk and mounded cookies on a plate, sat again, rapped her pen against the pad, and stared down at the books Mr. Allenby had given her.
    She started to turn pages, glancing at pictures and reading what was written under them. This was a history that she didn’t know much about. Words jumped off the page: sad, work, hard, Africa, slave, chain. She pictured her ancestors barefoot, needing a bath, sweaty and dusty, frightened, resentful, exhausted, toiling in fields while their owners sat in the shade fanning themselves and sipping cool cocktails. She thought of the many white faces in her class. Would they really want to hear about that?
    Time to get started. Felicia knew her great-grandfather was a porter on trains. That meant he wore a uniform and helped people with their luggage. But her grandmother had told her that he had helped organize a union, so he must have been smart and brave. She started to write.

CHAPTER 27
    Flower
    DR. SIMON FOLLOWED Wilfred
into the house. The smaller children swarmed around them. The doctor patted each
head, then raised his hand in greeting to the rest. He approached Mr. Jenson and
squeezed his patient’s hand in a gesture of reassurance, then lifted away the
cloth covering the wound. “Good, good. I see small signs of healing.”
    â€œReally?” Mr. Jenson’s eyes brightened.
    â€œThank you, Doctor!” exclaimed his wife. “Please
sit down and join us for tea. The kettle is already on the stove and starting to
boil.”
    The others settled at the table as she sliced
bread.
    â€œTea will cure my thirsty throat,” said Dr. Simon.
He glanced at Gabriel. “How fares my other patient?”
    Gabriel, seated in Flower’s lap, looked up at Dr.
Simon and began to wail. Cleo lifted him into her arms. “He seems well. Thank
you, doctor.”
    â€œCoughing or fever?”
    â€œNo longer. And he eats well.”
    â€œGood…good.”
    Eldon asked, “How is Samuel?”
    â€œHis wound is also improving.”
    â€œWhat good news!”
    Dr. Simon frowned. “I have bad news, too, I’m
afraid.” Flower’s bread suddenly felt mealy in her mouth. She swallowed with
difficulty and looked across the table at her father as the doctor said, “You
must leave here.”
    â€œSlave catchers?” asked Eldon.
    â€œYes. We’ve been told they’re on the move. Samuel
has left us. We pray for him, and for you.” He set his mug on the table. “I need
to pass on information for the coming journey.” Eldon, Cleo, and the doctor
stepped outside. Flower stood in the doorway holding her brother in her arms.
She saw her father bend his head, his ear close to Dr. Simon’s mouth. Cleo
frowned and nodded, her lips sometimes moving, intent on memorization.
    Hettie asked her mother, “Can’t Flower stay here
with us?”
    Flower turned back into the house. “No! I must be
with my own Ma and Pa!”
    â€œI don’t want her to go.”
    â€œStop talking nonsense. You two go outside and keep
an eye on the boys.”
    Flower and Hettie sat together on the porch. “I
wish you could stay here.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œWill you remember me?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI want to give you something.” Hettie plucked a
tiny yellow flower growing along the path, and she handed it to Flower. “Keep
this. Whenever you look at it, you can think of me, your friend Hettie.”
    â€œAnd when you see the flowers growing here again,
you can think of me, your friend Flower.”
    The girls helped Flower’s father and Wilfred carry
as much hay as they could to the barn, and then Mrs. Jenson called everyone in
for a hastily prepared meal. Eldon ate quickly, excused himself from the table,
and went back to the barn. He returned with a crutch he had fashioned from a
tree branch.
    â€œAren’t you a wonder?” Mr. Jenson grasped the
crutch