He wanted to help, but he did not want to frighten her. He just softly said, “Hello. I am Joseph. Don’t be scared.”
The girl turned around with a look of sheer fright on her face. She started to scream.
In a panicked voice, Joseph said, “No, please. I do not want to get into trouble. I just escaped where I grew up, and I am on my way to meet my mother for the first time.”
He should not have been so divulging, but it just blurted out of his mouth so fast, like he had no control. Her face shifted. He could see a slight ease come over her.
“My name is Sarah,” she responded in a soft, unsure tone.
“May I come out?” Joseph asked.
“Yes,” she uttered with a little hesitance and a wee bit of curiosity in her voice.
He crawled out slowly so as not to spook her. He walked out from behind the hay and sat down on the opposite side from her in the front of the barn. He wanted to keep his distance so she would not feel afraid; also, honestly, girls still scared him a bit. Since he had not been around many, he was not sure how to act around them yet.
They talked for a few minutes—only small talk. They shared a giggle here and there. This went on for a few more minutes. After they had both loosened up a bit, Sarah decided to ask Joseph a real question, one that carried a lot of weight.
“How did you end up in one of our barns?”
He could have given her a simple answer, but instead, he just spilled it all out. He told her the whole story, feeling he could trust her. He’d gotten a sense of who she was, and he felt oddly comfortable with her, as if they had been friends forever.
Joseph started from the bitter beginning and did not skip any details. During his whole story, it was obvious how caring and attentive she was. At times, it looked as if his tale could be physically hurting her, she was so empathetic toward him. She thought of him as brave, and at the same time, she hurt for him. As Joseph was finishing his tragic story, he thought to himself that Sarah might be hungry or thirsty, so he offered her some of his water and food. He knew that he did not have the water to spare, but he could not resist offering her whatever she might desire.
He had never met someone this beautiful. Sure, she was a pretty girl on the outside. She had long, curly golden hair and skin like a newborn, with sun-kissed cheeks and light chocolate eyes that could make anyone stop in their tracks. He was almost positive he could see heaven through her eyes, and it seemed she felt the same way about his. She was very physically attractive, but he did not really notice this until after they had talked a bit. He had never felt this way with anyone. She was so easy and fun to talk to. She was intelligent, she made him laugh, and she seemed to have such a gentle spirit, which Joseph picked up on easily. Those qualities were why he found her so beautiful. They enhanced her outer beauty. Everything about her was perfect to him. Joseph sat there with the hope the night would never end.
It was very strange in that day and time that Sarah never once seemed to even acknowledge that Joseph was black and she was white. It was as though they were just old friends with no cultural barriers between them. So Joseph decided to ask Sarah a question that was tickling his curiosity. “Why don’t you care that I am a Negro?”
This was a colossal rarity in this area. It was something Joseph had never seen or experienced. Without hesitation or discomfort, Sarah answered his question:
“My daddy is a very hateful man, and it got worse after my mama died. I always heard him being hateful to all the people at my house—calling them names, screaming at them—and I heard him beat them. The horrid cries they let out still haunt me. There were times that people just disappeared. I knew not to ask questions, partly out of fear for my own safety and partly because I didn’t want to hear out loud the answer that I already knew to be true.
“Sometimes the screams kept me up at night. I would just lie in my bed and cry for them. I would lie there and imagine that I had all the bravery and strength in the world and that I could run out there and save every last one. Many were my friends; they were more like my family than my blood father. They loved me and accepted me for who I was. I would imagine that I was able to save the world one person at a time, all while just lying in my little bed, helpless to their cries. My daddy often does the same thing to me because I, too, do not fit his standards of perfection.”
Joseph stopped to ponder to himself. How in the hell could this girl not fit her father’s standards? She isn’t black, she is surely Christian, and she seems to be smart.
These were the only criteria for perfection Joseph had known: white, rich, and Christian. Society had taught him these were the standards by which all people were measured. If you had this holy trinity, you could rule the world. This was what Joseph had grown up with: the falsified view that if you were not white and not Christian, you failed. Joseph was coming to the realization that, in the eyes of society, only white people could reach perfection—the true, “Christianly” standard of Jesus. They paid no mind that Jesus himself had not been white. It was blasphemy to speak of such. Joseph, too, thought that Jesus had been white because that was what Mrs. Kingsley had taught him.
Sarah continued to explain. “I don’t want to grow up to be a mean, hateful person like my daddy. I feel like we are all the same. I heard a kind voice and a gentle spirit when you spoke to me. That is all that matters to me. I was given a gift to not see the differences in people. I can judge them based only on their actions and their spirits. You can believe me when I tell you that I truly do not see color, because I am blind.”
Joseph had no idea. He stumbled for the right words to say, and nothing came to mind. He just uttered, “I am so sorry.”
Sarah smiled and said, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. I view it as a gift. Maybe if I had my sight and was not different from others, I would not be able to be so open and accepting of people. Maybe if I could see, I would not feel a connection to those viewed as different. I might end up like the rest of them. I don’t ever want that. I like being different. It allows me to see things in ways that many others don’t. It allows me to open my mind to all that is out there and to what God has in store for me without manmade rules directing me. Instead, I am able to think outside the rules and allow only God’s guidance to lead me.”
Joseph was in pure awe of Sarah. She was so wise, way beyond her years. He had never heard anyone speak like this before. She spoke with no barriers, no judgment, and no hate. She spoke only with love. He knew at this moment that this was the girl he wanted to marry. Never mind that he was a fourteen-year-old African-American boy and she was white. Joseph just didn’t care. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he felt. He also knew that God hadn’t spent his time making both of them only to place barriers on their love, no matter what society had taught them. He knew there was nothing wrong with how he felt; to him, it did not matter what anyone else thought. Sarah also felt that warmness and a special connection to Joseph.
The night was growing shorter, so they agreed to find each other once they were old enough. They scooted closer to one another and lay down with their heads tilted toward the stars. Joseph explained to Sarah all the shapes that the different stars made and what they looked like when they twinkled.
Both secretly wished things could be different. Sarah reached over and grabbed Joseph’s rough, teenage hand. She caressed it once with her thumb, and they fell asleep hand in hand. The next morning, just as the sun was coming up, Joseph looked over at Sarah while she was still sleeping. He felt so warm and happy inside. It was a bittersweet moment. He had found his soul mate in this world, but soon, he would have to leave her. Sarah slowly opened her eyes and smiled with the sweetest, most honest smile he