A Teacher’s Heart: 4 Historical Stories

Elim didn’t trust himself to walk this close to Miss Barris. Not after that hug she’d given him. She had been soft and warm in his arms. Emotion had threatened to overtake him when she’d pressed her face to his shoulder. When was the last time someone had held him? He shook hands with other soldiers all day long, but a hug? He couldn’t remember. His mother was gone before he could remember her. All the other slaves kept a safe distance from him because of his preferred status in the big house.

Elim had never had a hug like that in his whole life. And Miss Barris gave it to him over some tents.

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “I want to thank you again for the tents. It was very kind.”

“As I said, you don’t have to thank me. Some of them were in such bad condition that they couldn’t be used for the soldiers.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you made these runaways’ lives a little better.”

He shrugged. “I remember how it was when I ran. The first people who were kind to me. This was doing for someone else what was done for me.”

She swiped her face. “It’s hard seeing such young children who’ve braved flight with their parents. I remember too.”

He slowed his gait, not in a hurry to leave her presence. “I heard you say that you ran from a plantation nearby. How close were you?”

She looked down at the grass beneath her feet. “Two days’ walk from here.”

“Oh. Is he still in Philadelphia? He must have great courage to let his daughter travel so close to southern lines.”

She hugged herself. “He was the best father ever. I didn’t think I could move forward from his loss. He was delighted that I wanted to become a teacher and let me teach him how to read.”

Miss Barris sighed. What was it like to love someone, even to lose them? To be honest, Elim hadn’t seen this level of love displayed ever before. People desperate to find their loved ones or families taking great risks to keep their children from being sold away. Elim had spent most of his life feeling emotionally detached from others. Especially when he found that his closest relationships were a lie.

Little John and his family lived in the tents on the opposite side of the wooden building. The boy sat playing with a smaller one as a woman Elim assumed was his mother sat nearby. There was also a man stringing a line, probably for laundry.

“John, I brought Corporal Smith to see you,” Adeline said. He could hear the pride in her voice.

John leapt to his feet and nudged his brother. “See, I told you he was a real soldier.”

Elim’s uniform felt too tight at the praise. Coloreds weren’t considered real soldiers. Added to the fact that his men were struggling to learn, he felt as far from real as he could get. “What’s your name?”

“I promised,” Elim said. What did this man think of him? Judging by the way the man studied him, he was probably wondering what interest a Mulatto would have in his son. “You know, the fort is always looking for men to work. It’s hard work, but they’ll pay you. If you come up to the fort and ask for me, I’ll show you to the man you need to talk to. John knows where to find me.”

Her amusement made her eyes twinkle. “I am delighted by the discovery that you have a heart.”

He shot her a frown. “I didn’t realize the existence of my heart was in question.”

“It was, and I’m glad you answered that today.” She tipped her head to look up at him. “I would very much like to see your heart again.”

He took in a sharp breath. If you keep hugging me and talking like this, I may give it to you.

His men chatted happily behind him as they walked the worn path from the back gate of the fort to the chapel. Mail day gave them a boost in morale, no matter what the letters held. They longed for updates from their home plantations, to know that the people they left behind were safe or to learn who had moved on. Elim never wanted to hear from his home plantation again.

Even though he didn’t want to hear about the occupants of the big house on Harwood Plantation ever again, there were some from the fields and slave quarters who wanted to reach out to him. When he ran, he knew Ms. Oma and Mr. Walter would worry. They were the closest thing to family he had, even though he had family on the plantation. His mother was gone. His father …

When they arrived at the chapel, the door was still shut, and there wasn’t any sign that Miss Barris was there. He checked inside. The pulpit where she normally placed her books was empty.

“Can we read our letters while we wait?” Private Howard asked, a wide grin on his face.

Amazement stole over Elim. This was the first time in their lives they could read their own letters. Ones that were most likely written by someone at their home plantations who could write. Elim had fulfilled that task many times for the slaves on his plantation. Before, Elim or Chaplain Thomas normally read any correspondence the men received. Now, thanks to Miss Barris, they could do it on their own.

“Just until Miss Barris arrives.” If she didn’t come soon, he would drill the men here. He could not afford to waste any more time.

The men filed into the pews, the ones without letters gathering around the ones who had them, wanting to hear anything about the wider world.

Birdsong floated above his head as he took a seat on the chapel stairs. He checked the path on the other side of the clearing for Miss Barris once more before he slipped the letter from his pocket. He took a deep breath and opened it.

The handwriting was messier than other letters he’d received from Ms. Oma, and it was more like a note than a letter. It was postmarked a month and a half ago:

Elim,

I learned my letters, and I’m writing this with my own hand.

Things have changed since you left. Me and Mr. Walter done left the plantation and moved into town. We got our own place but it is small. We still go up to the plantation sometimes for work.

Massa Wilson ain’t doin’ so well since most of us done left. Mr. August is gone and no one knows where he done gone off to. He left when you did and we all thinks he was goin’ afta you.

Please write back, Elim boy. We been hearin’ some bad things about this war and some of the men in town been killed already.

May God watch over you,

Ms. Oma and Mr. Walter

August left. Ms. Oma was probably right in the idea that he came looking for Elim. Elim was, after all, August’s property. His runaway slave.

Despite the upsetting news, the fact that Ms. Oma had written to him warmed him. Her letters and well wishes from Mr. Walter were the only expression of care he’d felt since he’d left the plantation. The men he had joined up with after he’d run were only concerned as far as his safety was tied to them. Other than Ms. Oma and Mr. Walter, he was alone.

He had told Miss Barris that the men’s focus should be on living through the war. But what did life hold for them after all this was over? This was thinking he didn’t allow himself to indulge in often, because there was nothing for him after the war. No family, no sweetheart. Nothing but being a solider. He would be free … and utterly alone.

His mood clouded over, and he folded the letter and returned it to its envelope.

“I’m so sorry for being late.” He looked up and Miss Barris was standing before him, almost out of breath with a bundle of books in her arms. “I was helping the Hunters with a task in the freedman’s school and it took a little longer than expected.”

“Not to worry. Today was mail day, and the men were quite excited about reading their letters.”

“Looks like you were too.” She pointed to the letter still in his hand. “You got a letter from a loved one back home?”

Harwood was not his home. “A couple who were on the same plantation as I was sent me a letter.”

He forced a smile and held the letter up. “Ms. Oma and Mr. Walter left the plantation and got their own place. Ms. Oma learned to read and write and she sent me this letter.”

Despite himself, Elim laughed. In her excitement, he almost forgot his troubles. That happened often when she was around. He had fought her about the need for the lessons, but she drew him into a sort of dream. Especially when she was reading to the class. The rest of the men always got transported into the story. He got lost in the sound of her voice and the way her expression matched whatever mood the story took.

Nowhere. He swallowed the lump of loneliness. “Virginia…. I guess it’s West Virginia now.”

He studied her face. This was a conversation many a soldier had had since the war began. “No.”

She leaned in closer to him, and for a moment he thought she was going to lay her head on his shoulder. “Where will you go?”

His shoulders sank. Oh Miss Barris, don’t make me dream. “I must admit I haven’t given it much thought. I plan to stay in the army. It will be up to them where I go.” That would guarantee that he would keep moving.

“I think that is a good idea. You are good at this.” She motioned behind her at the chapel door.

This was the first time he’d studied her while she was sitting this close and not fighting with him. While she was teaching, he tried not to notice how beautiful she was. But now, it was all he could see. “Thank you.”

She reached over and touched his sleeve, and the skin underneath heated like it was in the direct sun. “I’m sure you’ll end up exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Chapter 6