Dear Diary,

My father and I have been traveling to each runaway hideout for the past few years. I've heard that the next house is owned by a tall, handsome black man who bought himself out of slavery. His house is a fancy, sizeable house with several bedrooms on the higher floor. I heard that he and his sister own a dress shop which sells the most radiant gowns anyone's ever seen. It was on the Northern edge of Tennessee.

The last hideout we stayed at didn't give us instructions since the North Star would guide our way, but the man there did warn us not to drink from "the stream that looks green." I didn't pay much attention to his mysterious riddle, but I'm glad I remembered it. The thought hit me when Father, who was weak in his old age, crouched down to refresh himself with the fresh-looking water from a stream...but it was covered with poison ivy and other green plants. I knew the "stream that looks green" had to be this water! So I pulled my dad away from it and we found another stream that was cold and delicious.

Finally, after eating only raw meat that my dad hunted, and sleeping on the cold ground, we came to an open field with a house at the far end of it. It was the free man's house. My father and I flew across the open, grassy space, overjoyed that we were closer to freedom.

We had almost reached the beautiful mansion, when suddenly my father fell to the ground, unconscious. I gasped, not knowing what to do. Desperately, I shook my father, shouting his name.

Suddenly, the handsome owner of the house ran out to greet us but froze with concern when he saw me screaming, worriedly. I was at my father's side trying to wake him up. I gazed into the eyes of the man as I begged him for help. The black man, Calvin, immediately carried my poor father inside his house while I followed silently. What would happen to my wonderful dad who had cared for me my whole life? I couldn't hold back my tears. I would be all alone unless Calvin helped me. I doubted he would help a plain, old runaway slave like me, though.

Suddenly, my cloudy thoughts melted when I glanced at the fabulous inside of the house. A fire was blazing in a small parlor, which also had a garden to gaze at out the large window. I then spotted a little room with a door for privacy. Bookshelves filled the room and in a corner was a long desk covered with papers and big books.

"Be very careful in there," Calvin said, pointing to the small room.

Why would he say that, I wondered.

"What's your name, by the way?" he asked.

"Lily," I replied, still gazing at his house.

"Lily," he whispered, quietly. "That's beautiful," he said even softer.

I followed him up a grand staircase, struggling to climb the steps. It was the first time I'd ever been on the second floor of a house, because Master had never allowed me on the second floor of his house. I glanced at several bedrooms that resembled those of a king's. There was a blue and silver bedroom, a peach and gold chamber and a huge scarlet and gold master bedroom that had a canopy on the bed. Still, it wasn't as magnificent as Master's house. That's how rich he was.

Finally, we set Father down on a magnificent green queen-sized bed, and Calvin tried feeling a pulse. He checked everywhere. He blew air into his mouth and pressed on his chest as I held back my sobs.

Finally he sighed deeply and said, "His heart was not able to stand running so fast and traveling so far. And he was just so old. I'm so sorry Miss Lily, but...he's gone," he said quietly.

I couldn't believe it. I could not believe it. Not at all.

I couldn't believe that God had really taken him from me. He was my closest relative to me since Mother had left. And God had heartlessly stolen him from my life forever. And now I was alone. As a slave, I'd had a loving family. And now as a free woman, I had no one and nothing.

"He can't be dead! Please tell me he's not, Calvin! Don't say that! DON'T MAKE ME GRIEVE!" I tried not to scream at Calvin, since I was really sending my wrath to God. This was the Lord's fault. The Lord who I thought was good. My Mother as well as my Father taught me He was good. But He wasn't. This selfish, heartless act of His made it clear as day. God didn't give a damn.

Tears swarmed my vision and whimpers escaped my lips.

"Miss, I'm so sorry. But there was nothing I could do...." But before Calvin finished, I covered my weeping face and ran out the door as one thought echoed through my head.

But God could have done something.