Out From This Place by Joyce Hansen

finished.
    â€œI love school, but I can’t leave. What about Jason? Can’t leave him.”
    Miss Grantley pressed her thin lips together and shook her head. “Jason wouldn’t do too well at the school. He’s smart, but he doesn’t care about school—or anything serious, I’m afraid—the way you do.”
    Easter knew that Miss Grantley was right about Jason, but that made no difference to her. “I can’t leave Jason. And then, I so far away from Obi.”
    â€œEaster, you don’t know exactly where Obi is. And Jason, well, he can stay here with Rose.”
    â€œOh no, Miss Grantley. Jason has to come with me.”
    â€œWell, maybe he can come with you and go to school in a colored orphanage. But I hate to see someone like you not get the education that she deserves.” She looked worried as she rested her hand on Easter’s shoulder. “And you know, Easter, when you finish your studies, you can come back here and teach your own people. There’s much work to be done.”
    Easter faltered. “Miss Grantley, I don’t know, I …”
    â€œWill you think about it? You’d be a wonderful teacher.You can return when the war ends and find your young man then.”
    â€œSuppose it never ends.”
    â€œWars always end, sometime.”
    â€œSuppose Yankee don’t win, and I up north. I never get back here.”
    Easter could tell that Miss Grantley seemed a little concerned. She tried to put a confident smile on her face. “We’re going to win. It’s just a matter of time.”
    Easter left the school feeling herself pulled two different ways. She gripped the two baskets tightly as she passed the cabins and headed toward the cookhouse. It would be wonderful to go to school and learn how to read
all
of the books. She’d be like Miss Grantley, a good, fine teacher. But how could she leave Jason? What would happen to him without her?
    And what about Obi? Suppose he was nearby this minute, searching for her? He’d never find her up north. She even thought about Mariah and Gabriel. If she went north, she’d probably never see them again.
    Charlotte pulled at her skirt. “Miss Easter, you tellin’ us a story? Then you an’ me make baskets?”
    â€œYes, baby.”
    â€œMe too?” Charlotte’s younger sister asked.
    â€œYes.” Easter smiled at her and checked the field to see whether Jason was there. She spotted him by the Yankee cap that one of the soldiers who sometimes came to the plantation had given him.
    Easter placed the babies’ baskets on the ground when she reached the shed. Her mind wandered as she began to fix lunch. For some reason everything she saw seemed beautiful: the blue sky and the orchards; the southern pines and palmettoes and live oak trees with the moss hanging from their branches like cobwebs; the green fields and pastures. What was the North like? She’d mostly heard that it was cold.
    That evening while they ate, she watched the faces ofher friends, and they seemed beautiful too. Her heart felt heavy when she looked at them and thought about going north. She might never see them again either.
    They sat at a pine table that Paul had made for them. He’d also made another bench so that they all could eat at the table. Easter’s rugs and several baskets decorated the wall. The hut was overcrowded but cozy, made livable by the women.
    As she watched Rayford eat, she thought she’d miss even him. Although he was bossy, Easter had to agree with Rose, who said, “What Rayford say is most times correct, Easter.” She’d always be thankful to him for being the first person to teach her how to read and write. He’d smile pleasantly at her when he walked by as she was caring for the babies, even though he’d still say, “You need to get some land.”
    They usually ate in silence. “Too hungry to talk,” Rose would