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calls since Jo and her family had returned from Richmond, which was fine with her. There was no tea or coffee to serve them and no slaves to wait on them. All but a few of White Oak’s slaves were gone.
    The plantation seemed unnaturally quiet. No bell clanging in the morning to wake the slaves, no haunting songs as the workers made their way to and from the cotton fields. The fields were empty of everything but weeds, the barn empty of animals. Fragrant aromas from the kitchen were things of the past. Everywhere Jo looked she saw emptiness, and silence followed her everywhere she went. She missed music most of all, the laughter and gaiety of the parties Mother used to hold. Would there ever be music and laughter in their lives again?
    Josephine moved to a different bedroom window for a different view and saw Lizzie, one of the house slaves, shuffle out of the kitchen and pick up a hoe to work in the vegetable garden. Theslaves had planted it before they’d been set free, and Lizzie was the only one left to tend it. The day looked so fresh and hopeful that Jo’s longing to escape this stuffy, claustrophobic house suddenly overwhelmed her. She tied a straw bonnet on her head and hurried downstairs and out through the front door.
    She drew a deep breath, then sighed. The air smelled of spring and woodsmoke from the kitchen. She took her time walking around the house to the back, noticing the overgrown bushes and weed-filled flower beds. The grounds around the house had fallen into ruin now that the slaves who did all the gardening had left. It hadn’t rained in days and the ground was rock hard and dusty beneath her feet.
    When she reached the kitchen garden, Josephine opened the gate to the enclosed plot of land and went inside, shutting it behind her again. Lizzie seemed to snap to attention. “You needing something, Missy Josephine?”
    “No . . . well, yes. I need to get out of the house for a while, and it looks like such a beautiful morning.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Lizzie bent to her task again, the hoe rasping against the hard earth.
    “Are you going to leave White Oak, too, Lizzie? Like all the others?”
    “No, ma’am. We decided to stay for now. But Lord knows I can’t do all this work by myself. Neither can Otis.”
    Otis. That was the name of the field slave who had driven their carriage to Richmond and back. Jo had grown up with these slaves, yet she knew very little about them. “Is Otis your husband?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Jo watched her work for a few minutes, inhaling the fresh spring air. “Do you enjoy working in the garden?”
    “Like it or not, it’s got to be done, Missy Jo, or nobody’s gonna eat around here.”
    Josephine wondered if she should help. Of course it was a scandalous idea. But everything else in Jo’s life had changed, and if she wanted to eat, as Lizzie said, then someone had to help her.Besides, Jo had nothing else to fill the long, empty hours. “Would you like my help?” she asked.
    Lizzie stared at her before catching herself and looking away. “Miz Eugenia’s never gonna let her daughter do slave work. No, ma’am.” Jo heard the outrage in her voice.
    “Everything is different now, Lizzie. I think I should learn how to grow our own food in case you decide to leave us, too.” As the idea took shape, Josephine realized how much she liked the thought of making something happen for once, instead of waiting for things to happen to her. She could decide her own fate and work to grow food herself instead of slowly starving. “Will you show me what to do, Lizzie?”
    “No, ma’am. You gonna get me in a mess of trouble, Missy Jo.”
    “I promise you won’t get into trouble.” She took the hoe from Lizzie’s hand. It was heavier than she’d imagined, the wooden handle rough and splintery. “Show me what to do.”
    Lizzie looked frightened as she took a step back. It occurred to Josephine that all these changes must be hard for her, too. Their circumstances