Fisk University
December 16, 1871
Alexandra sat nestled between Sy and her mother as President Spence read off the name of the next graduate. Amidst the applause, the young man made his way toward the makeshift stage to receive his diploma, to the delighted shouts of his family and friends.
Without a building large enough to host the graduation ceremonies, the event was being held out of doors in the common area among the barracks. It was standing room only, but uncommonly warm temperatures and crystal blue skies made the December morning surprisingly pleasant.
President Spence shook the young graduate’s hand, then briefly moved aside as Mr. White stepped forward—the two men sharing the honors of reading the names.
Alexandra turned to Sy. “Perhaps there’s still hope for those two gentlemen to get along.”
“Could be.” Reaching down to pet Duke, he looked over and winked. “But I doubt it.”
Alexandra laughed softly, then looked at Mother and at Melba seated beside her. Her mother. Sitting in an integrated audience. In a public place. Something Alexandra never thought she’d see. And judging by the quiet attentiveness on her mother’s face, she was taking it all in.
“Miss Virginia Walker Halkin.”
Her mother had been right. Father had never awakened. As much as Alexandra had wanted to have that closure between them, she was slowly coming to accept that sometimes that simply wasn’t possible. Life wasn’t all neat and tidy. Along with joy and happiness, there were bitter disappointments and heart-rending loose ends. She looked at Thomas Rutling seated in the audience two rows up, thought of his search for his mother, and knew she still had so much for which to be grateful. She prayed that Thomas’s search would someday prove successful.
The same as she prayed to find her beloved Abigail. She’d placed an ad in the Colored Tennessean, so time would tell.
“Mr. Henry Alvin Slater.”
They’d buried her father on a Tuesday, then had reburied Sy’s father beside his mother the following day. Sy had placed a small bouquet of flowers on his mother’s grave and a single white rose on his father’s. Clean, pure, free of any blemish. And Sy was finally at peace.
She was so proud of how he had handled the situation with General Harding and the investors. And no one had been more shocked than she was when Sy told her that he’d contacted George Pullman himself—who’d already read in the newspaper about the Northeast Line providing the Jubilee Singers with one of his Palace cars—and had offered to sell Mr. Pullman his interest in the North Carolina/West Virginia venture. Knowing Sy wasn’t in a place to negotiate, Pullman ended up making a very profitable deal, even with the required investment. But so did Sy. His obligations here were fulfilled and his beloved mountains awaited. As did a position as Railroad Safety Inspector for the Colorado Railway Commission.
She looked over at him, marveling again at how God orchestrated all the events of their lives.
“Miss Constance Baker Worth.”
“Thank you again, Sy,” she whispered, watching the young woman accept her diploma, “for encouraging me to pursue my degree. I don’t know that I would have decided to do it without you. Mr. White told me yesterday when the troupe arrived back into town that he believes I can finish sooner than I originally thought.”
Sy smiled. “You’ll be done before you know it.”
“And now, distinguished guests and faculty members,” Mr. White continued, “we have one last graduate whose name isn’t listed in the program today.”
Alexandra turned back.
“And I will say this of her . . . She came to us late, some might say, but in my opinion she came at just the right time.”
Mr. White’s gaze scanned the audience, then came to settle on her, and Alexandra felt a rush of uncertainty followed swiftly by one of excitement. And confusion.
“Join me in congratulating a young woman who scored in the top five percent of Fisk graduates on the finishing exams . . . while serving as an instructor in our introductory classes this year. Miss Alexandra Jamison.”
Alexandra turned to Sy and found him smiling. “You knew?”
“Congratulations,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”
Alexandra felt a squeeze on her arm and turned to see her mother and Melba, tears of joy in their eyes. And maybe a little disbelief in her mother’s, which Alexandra couldn’t begrudge. She was more shocked than all of them.
She made her way to the stage, able to hear Sy’s whistle over all the applause. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, she even heard Duke getting in on the celebration.
Mr. White leaned close. “Congratulations, my dear.”
Alexandra looked down at the diploma. “But I don’t understand. How did—”
“It was Miss Norton’s idea to administer the finishing exams to you that day.”
“The finishing exams?”
He smiled. “It was also her idea to keep the results a surprise.”
He gestured, and Alexandra turned to see Miss Norton cheering along with several students who had been in her introductory class.
“She was so impressed with your marks, Miss Jamison,” Mr. White continued. “As we all were. I suspected early on, as did she, that you were much further along in your education than you gave yourself credit for. But knowing you as I believe I do”—he gave her a thoughtful look—“I feared that telling you beforehand would only make you more nervous.”
“And you were so right.” Laughing, she accepted the diploma and his hug. “Thank you, Mr. White, for giving me the opportunities you did.”
A twinkle lit his eyes. “I suspect, Miss Jamison, that the opportunities for you are only beginning.”
As she retraced her steps back down the stairs she spotted Vinson, Lettie, and Brister sitting together and clapping, along with so many others. But it was seeing Ella standing with the other singers, smiling and cheering, that brought tears to her eyes. On her way back to her seat, she stopped and hugged her friend tight.
“You did it!” Ella cried.
“We did it.” Alexandra drew back and looked into Ella’s lovely gray eyes and knew in her heart, as she had for some time now, that God had given her the sister she’d always longed for.
Later that afternoon, during the graduation festivities, Mr. White pulled her aside. “Let’s you and I and that man of yours have a discussion this next week before the singers and I resume our tour. We’re opening a freedmen’s school in Denver, Miss Jamison, and are in need of a head teacher.”
Alexandra smiled, then saw Sy looking their way, and she sensed that Mr. White and Sy had already spoken. “As it so happens, Mr. Rutledge and I leave for Denver next week. Right after our wedding. And yes, I’m most definitely interested. But as I’ve learned so well over these past few months . . . whatever the Lord wills, Mr. White. Whatever the Lord wills.”