Reckless Lives: A Tale of the Old South

Lizzie and the Treehouse Part 1 Michael joins the other boys

It was Summer turning to Autumn, and Michael and Lizzie were on their way through the woods to gather some blackberries. Lizzie loved going around the thorns to pluck the sweet, tart berries and fill her basket with them. At the stand of bushes, Michael and Lizzie stopped, working quickly together to fill the basket. They went all the way around the stand, picking the berries. Only rarely did Lizzie pause to look at a bird or eat a ripe berry. Michael worked diligently and listened to the sounds of nature and man around them. Sometimes in the woods with Lizzie like this, his heart would start racing when he heard a footfall. He did not want to miss hearing someone sneak up on him and capture him again as they had in Africa. Then, he would be taken far away from Lizzie. The slavecatchers would take him, regardless of what she said. She would scream and cry for him, but there would be nothing he could do to get out of the ropes and other traps they would hold him with.

Michael stopped picking and turned. The footfalls sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure. He handed Lizzie the basket in case he had to bolt away,and turned his face towards the woods.

It was Josiah, a satchel slung over his shoulder, and behind him Derrick. Derrick was dressed as fancily as Josiah was dressed plainly. Michael noticed with shame that Josiah was dressed more poorly than he was. They shared an awkward look.

“Hey, Lizzie,” Josiah flashed her a shy smile, “Hey, Michael.” He said, even more bashfully, staring down at his bare feet. Lizzie’s dress today was a gauzy white, and around her neck she wore a little gold locket her father had given her. The filmy sleeves of the dress kept getting caught on the thorns from the blackberry bushes, and ripping a thread here and there when Michael helped her get untangled. The fabric under her arm pits was wet with sweat, as the sun was hot, even in the shade of the forest.

“We’re building a tree house,” Derrick announced proudly.

“Yeah, I got the tools here, Michael.” Josiah added, indicating the satchel. “We thought you could help if you wanted,” he coughed.

“I could help, too!” Lizzie piped up enthusiastically.

“Um, we thought Michael might know how to use tools, and things like that. We thought that we could all build a club house for the boys, you know, cause Derrick said there was this story, Robinson Crusoe where all the boys built a treehouse,” Josiah explained.

“But I could build a tree house, too. You’ve got tools. Just teach me how to use them. Show me what you want me to do, and I can do it!” Lizzie enthused.

“Ladies don’t build treehouses, Lizzie,” Derrick explained.

“But I could! I’m not a lady, yet, am I?” Lizzie asked uncertainly.

“You’re going to be, Lizzie. And right now you’re a girl. And girls don’t build treehouses. Of course, we’ll help you up and let you visit us sometimes in the treehouse--- when we can,” Derrick said gallantly.

“But, Derrick, Josiah, I mean, Michael is a slave,” Michael looked at her with such hurt in his eyes, she wished she hadn’t said anything. Still, she continued on…. “I’m sorry Michael. But, since it’s up to me what you do, maybe I’d rather not have you helping Josiah and Derrick build a treehouse, when I can’t help. What am I supposed to do, just stand around and watch?”