Dude, being crowded together in that closet, it reminded me of home! I missed my mom, my aunt, my uncle. I even missed my brother—well, almost.
Tad must have read my mind. “I have a brother,” he said sadly. “His name is Willie, and he’s very sick.”
Dee gave him a funny look. “But you’re the president’s kids. You guys must have good health care.”
As she spoke, President Lincoln turned to his wife. “I don’t see that there’s any other choice.”
Mrs. Lincoln said, “This proclamation that you’re planning—have you thought through all the consequences?”
He put his arm around her shoulders and said in a gentle voice, “It’s impossible to know all the consequences.”
Mrs. Lincoln shivered. “Soldiers were at our door, trying to get in out of the cold.”
“And what did you do?” he asked.
“What could I do? Forty men are sleeping in the East Room.”
That surprised me. I leaned over to Tad. “You have soldiers camping out in the White House?”
Tad nodded. “Some of them are wounded.”
“War is hard,” said Annie. “My grandmother told me it changed the old country so much.”
George nodded. It looked like he was remembering hard times of his own.
Mrs. Lincoln said, “I’m worried, Abraham. Some people say your proclamation will bring deeper division and more bloodshed.”
“I pray it isn’t true,” he answered.
I could see she wasn’t happy with his answer. The look on her face reminded me of my mom, when she makes up her mind about something.
Mrs. Lincoln said, “We need more than prayers. Willie is ill. And I worry about you, about our family. The death threats—”
“Our Willie will get better,” said President Lincoln. “He’s a strong boy.”
She said, “He needs to go where it’s warmer—to my sister’s, down south.”
“That isn’t possible. It’s not safe.”
“It’s not safe here either!” she exclaimed.
“You know what I mean,” said President Lincoln.
“Forget the nation,” she said. “This is our family!”
Mrs. Lincoln started to cry. I was surprised. In my family we don’t cry very much.
President Lincoln put his arms around her. After a minute, she looked up at him. “Abraham, slavery has been a way of life for so long. How much sacrifice will it take to change that?”
He told her, “I don’t know.”
“God help us,” said Mrs. Lincoln. She wiped her eyes, kissed him on the cheek, and left the room.
The light changed, and I could tell that time had passed. President Lincoln looked older. He walked around the room, then went over and sat at his desk, where there was a sheet of paper. Studying the paper, he sighed and buried his head in his hands. I tell you, man, it surprised me. When I see the president on TV, he always looks good—you know, strong, in control. I didn’t know presidents got tired or sad.
Next to me George said, “Slavery is a terrible thing.”
“Did you have slaves?” Dee asked him.
“I set all my slaves free when I died.”
“Do you think owning slaves was wrong?” she asked.
Before he could answer, Tad brushed past us. I tried to stop him, but he opened the door and went to his father.
“Pa . . .”
“Tad?” said Lincoln, looking up. “Why are you still awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Are you mad at me?”
“No, son. Recently I’ve had trouble sleeping too.”
Tad climbed onto his father’s lap. “Pa, I was proud that you were elected president. But sometimes I wish it had never happened.”
“I can understand that.”
Tad said, “Ma’s worried. She cries a lot.”
“I know. But everything will be all right.”
That seemed to make Tad angry. “If it’s all right, then why are you and Ma and everyone fighting?”
“Your mother and I—”
“Why do people say you’re dividing the country? And why are the soldiers allowed to wear their muddy boots in the house when I can’t?”
“Pa,” said Tad, “why are you making new house rules?”
Lincoln looked down at his son. He thought for a moment. Then he said, “Because black hands helped build this White House.”
Tad said, “Well, maybe we should go live somewhere else.”
“Or,” said his father, “maybe we should let everyone live free.”
Lincoln gave Tad a hug. It made me feel better. I hated to see them argue. “Now, get along to bed, young man.”
“Good night, Pa,” said Tad.
“Good night, Tadpole,” said Lincoln.
When his son was gone, Lincoln went back to the desk, murmuring, “If my hand trembles when I sign it, they will say I was unsure.” He gazed down at the paper, then turned, walked across the room, and looked out the window.
Annie looked over at me. “What is Mr. Lincoln talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What’s that paper he’s deciding to sign?”
“There’s one way to find out,” said Dee. She opened the closet door and tiptoed to the desk. Annie and I went with her, while George hung back.
Dee picked up the paper and read, “‘By the President of the United States of America: A Proclamation. . . . All persons held as slaves within any State or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.’”
She looked up from the paper. “Guys, it’s the Emancipation Proclamation!”
Lincoln must have heard her. When he turned around, he saw us standing by the desk. He could have called the guards. Instead he asked, “Who are you?”
I tried to smile. I’m not sure it worked. “Sir, my name is José. This is Annie and Dee.”
He cocked his head and studied us. “Do I know you?”
There was something about his expression that made me feel strong. “Maybe you do,” I said.
Annie stepped up beside me. “Mr. Lincoln, you must sign this paper.”
Dee said, “It’s for me. It’s for us, all of us.”
“We are the future,” said Annie. “We are America.”
“Sir,” I told him, “some of us look different. Some of
us speak with an accent. But we love our country.”
Annie said, “My mother tells me that freedom must start someplace. Sir, I think this is the place. This is the first step.”
“Please, sign the paper,” said Dee. “You can change the world. It can start with you.”
As Dee spoke, George stepped out from the shadows. He crossed the room and walked up to Lincoln. At first Lincoln was surprised. Then he smiled and nodded.
“Mr. President,” said Lincoln.
“Mr. President,” said George.
George reached down, picked up the pen, and handed it to Lincoln. Lincoln weighed it in his palm. Then he looked at us and said, “Never in my life have I felt more certain that I was doing right. My hand will not waver. My signature must be steady.”
Leaning over the desk, he signed the paper. The world changed. I was there.
