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“Sit down, honey, have some of my hot soup.”
“Thank you, Rosa,” said Franck. “It smells good. Long day.”
Rosa brought her cup of tea to the table and watched Franck eat for a few moments. The old formica table had seen better days but was homey. The old hound dog lay quietly on the yellow linoleum floor. The yellow was probably cheery before the years of use had worn it down.
“It’s good for a body to have some hot soup after a long day of traveling. I’ll get you some cold chicken too in a moment, if you’re hungry.”
“Mmm. This hits the spot, thanks.”
“Now tell me about your studies. Molly tells me you’re doing some research.”
“Yes, some research.”
“What school is it that you go to?”
“Well, it’s called…Port Haven University.”
“And what are you studying there, Franck?”
Franck took a spoonful of soup and chewed the vegetables and beef carefully.
“I’m doing a paper on the Underground Railway.”
Rosa got up to turn on a lamp on a small table near the telephone. She was stocky but not overweight. She took off her apron and hung it on a hook. Franck thought it both homey and quaint that she wore an apron in the kitchen, and turned back to his soup.
“Are you living here all alone?” he said.
“Oh no, honey, but the kids have flown the coop mostly. One came back to roost for a little while. You know, the Underground Railway is a nice thing to study and learn about. Here in our family it is not just something out of the school books.”
“Well I thought this might be a place where I could learn some more about it.”
“You must already be an expert if you’re doing a graduate school paper on it.”
“No, not really. It’s a new course for me and, well, I’m really just learning about it.”
“How did you know about the Railway in these parts? I guess you’ve already studied it.”
The dog got up and lumbered out from under the table, knocking into a leg. Franck’s soup sloshed in his bowl.
“You know,” said Rosa, “Most of the Railway escapes happened farther west, where people could move up the land routes. Our people headed to boats a couple of hours north of here, up by Virginia Beach and Newport News, a place they called Portsmouth.
“Some of our family made it on those boats, but I’m from the part that stayed behind, stayed slaves a little longer. But I suppose you have a plan for doing the research. What are your plans? How will you go about it? Can I help you, dear? If you want some people to talk to besides me, I know a few. We can call on them tomorrow if you would care to.”
“Well, yes, that would be great. I can use help on this. Whatever you know, and whoever you know, would help me get somewhere with my…project. I’m looking for some people and I’m not sure how to find them, actually.”
“My daughter might be able to help you too. She’ll be out late tonight. You’re tired, you’ll probably just see her in the morning. So tell me more about Port Haven University.”
“Um, what would you like to know?”
“How long have you been there, honey? Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, it’s a fine place. It’s my first year, so I just started, let’s see, a couple of months ago. I’m studying history and uh, American history. I work in a restaurant called Sal’s, which is pretty fun. Pays the bills, you know. I like the people who work there, they’re pretty fun. One waitress is pretty saucy and always makes fun of my hat.”
“Oh I like that hat, honey. It’s good on you. I used to have something like that once. Little stripey hat I used to pin up in my hair. I used to wear it religiously.” She laughed. “Well I even wore it to church.”
The dog was whimpering at the door, so Rosa let him out back.
“You know, Franck, I have a dear friend who lives up your way. I keep threatening to come and visit but I’ve never been there. He’s never mentioned that particular University there. I think he’s holding out on me! It sounds like a nice place to live, is it?”
“I like it. Small city, lots to do. It’s got a lot of history too.”
“Yes, some day maybe I’ll come see Port Haven, or maybe even move up there. This place is my home but it’s getting all worn out. Memories are a blessing but they can also become very heavy.”
“It would be great to have you come and visit. You could give talks at Port Haven University about the Underground Railway. I’m sure they’d love to have you speak.”
A door in the hallway creaked. The hallway light turned on. Slow footsteps made their way toward the kitchen. A man dressed in a bathrobe shuffled heavily into the light. He was a sturdy man, a bit of gray in his short frizzy hair.
After reading the letters from his secret attic box, Franck found himself thinking a lot about people’s looks. He had studied Regina’s Italian complexion and looked for the way her Irish mother’s pallor blended in. He began to not only notice the continuum of colors and hair and eyes of people he passed on the street, but also began to try to figure out where their people might have come from. Not just Asian, but Japanese, Chinese, Filipino. Not just European but Italian, Irish, Polish. Not just African but…and here he felt his ignorance the strongest. He had little idea of the parts of Africa and what people looked like who came from different areas.
Rosa had some African and some European colors. This gentleman walking toward Franck had a bit of African, but from where, Franck wondered? Maybe he actually would do some research some day, he thought. And European was in the man’s face, but he didn’t know enough to identify where it might have come from. Franck had had a friend in college who grew up in France and seemed to be able to identify European faces at a glance, although the blends in America often seemed to catch him off guard.
“Well look who woke up? Did you have a good nap? Here, let me introdu—“
“Did you say you’re from Port Haven?” interrupted the man.
“Yes, sir, Port Haven. It’s in New England.” Franck never normally said “yes, sir” to anybody but he couldn’t help saying it to this gentleman.
“And you go to the university there – what’s it called?”
“Port Haven University.”
“I see. Who’s your professor? Your advisor?”
“Do you know the university there?” asked Franck, a little unnerved.
“No.”
“Ah. Well the professor of my course is Professor Brown. He’s very well known as a historian, and was very encouraging when I said I wanted to come here for a little research. I wish he was my advisor too, but I have Ms. Mc…McArthur. She, well, to be honest, I hardly ever see her.”
“What are you doing here?” asked the man.
“I’m doing some research on a paper about the Underground Railway. Rosa and I were just talking about it and she knows something about it. Is it something you know about too?”
“What are you really here for, son?”
“What do you mean? Just, just the research, and finding people who know about it.”
“Now don’t lie to me, son. What are you looking for?”
“Robert,” said Rosa. “What are you saying?”
“There is no Port Haven University. I live there.”
Franck tried to keep himself composed. Rosa glared at him. Robert stared unflinchingly at Franck but his face also betrayed a hint of a smile.
“You’re Robert…?” said Franck, in a shaky, timid voice.
Rosa stood up quickly to break the mood. “I am so sorry I didn’t introduce—“
Robert interrupted her again in a determined, quiet voice. “I’m Robert,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake Franck’s. “Robert McIver.”