Leaving Uncle Tom's Cabin (Burning Uncle Tom's Cabin Book 2) by Waters Carl & Chinyere Dr. Kal

Author:Waters, Carl & Chinyere, Dr. Kal [Waters, Carl]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781939805157
Publisher: Bright Sons Media
Published: 2017-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

17

George was strolling sadly along the street, still cursing his luck and hating the fact that, starting the next day, he would be working as a lowly chimney sweep. Then he shook himself. Hadn’t he been saying the day before that he needed a job and would do anything to support his family? Hadn’t he spoken with Eliza about the need for them to be out on their own, with their own home and life, away from Jim and Anita? And hadn’t he just realized that he couldn’t work with Jim, when their philosophies about business were so different?

“Doesn’t matter, any of it,” he snarled in answer to these thoughts. He was undervaluing himself and his skills, and both would be undervalued as well at his new job. He was certain of it. He was a man of steel and gears, not someone to be stuffed up a chimney to do menial work in white folks’ homes! He was a man of intelligence and education, and hadn’t he worked hard to become so?

No, he thought, he would never be satisfied as a chimney sweep. He would go home and tell his family the news, and though they would cheer and congratulate him, he knew one thing: He would not be happy until he was working in a position that he found both challenging and fulfilling.

At that very moment, he happened to turn to the left, his eyes roaming over the row of shops next to him, and stopped dead in his tracks. There, as if in answer to his question, was a small, compact shop, complete with glass in the windows and a sign out front that advertised the trade practiced there. In the shop, he saw gleaming blades and wooden frames, complete with several tools of the trade, and he let his eyes travel up to the tile hanging over the road.

“White’s Creations,” he breathed out.

A machinist—it was as if George had called him out of the air with his dreams.

Without another thought, George rushed into the shop, his heart hammering away at his ribs. This was the very chance he’d been waiting for, and he knew without a doubt that if there was a God—which George wasn’t certain about, by any means—He had put George on that very road for a purpose.

Inside, he found a long, narrow shop with counters running down both sides and glass shelves behind them. There were small machines and sculptures on those shelves, and there at the far end was a cash register, and beside it a notepad. For taking orders, no doubt. In the back, he could just make out the glow of a forge and guessed that there was a larger work area behind the main shop, where the metalworking and building was done.

Suddenly a man appeared from the back of the shop, wiping his hands and arranging his heavy leather apron. He had a row of tools pushed into his belt and a set of eyeglasses on his head, along with a set of goggles around his neck for protecting his eyes against sparks.

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