Douglass’ Women (31 page)

We were soon out the door. Douglass, when he made up his mind to go, rarely lingered. Behind me, I heard the headmistress: “How coarse your hair is. Make sure it doesn’t tangle. Else we’ll have to cut it.”

Douglass helped me into the carriage. He opened his book again. I peered out the carriage window. There was a hard glint in Miss Seward’s eyes. Rosetta was waving. Then, Miss Seward spoke to her and Rosetta bobbed a curtsy like a maid. I was furious. But I knew Douglass wouldn’t tell the coachman to stop. Rosetta, her father’s daughter, would survive.

The main door shut. Rosetta was lost deep inside.

John Coachman cracked his whip. “Aie-yah,” he shouted.

I looked up at the many curtained windows. In the far right, on the tallest floor, I saw one curtain lift.

Oluwand, like a sentinel, stared at me from behind the glass
.

I waved and waved. Irritable, petulant, Douglass asked, “Ottilie, what’s the matter with you?”

John Coachman rounded the corner.

“Who loves you? Who loves you?” I repeated.

Douglass stroked the back of my neck. “We’re to have a fine time,” he said. “A fine time.”

“We raise children only to say good-bye.
Don’t seem fair.”

—A
NNA
D
OUGLASS,
AT
A
NNIE’S BIRTH
, 1847

“War is justified for a righteous cause.”

—F
REDERICK
D
OUGLASS
,
1851

Rochester

I wilight crisscrossed the sky. Penny-man didn’t even need to get off the wagon. He come like a great shadow. Like Mister Death himself. Yelling, “Whoa.” He looked at me, shook his head. My knees buckled. He made to get down from the wagon and I just shouted, “Naw.” His head jerked up then, he cracked his whip, and went on.
Mam’s dead
.

I clasped my belly. Charles Redmond was deciding to come.

Freddy Junior and Lewis come flying out the house. “Candy,” they hollered. “Penny-man bring candy?”

I clasped Freddy Junior’s hand. He just five. Still a babe.

“Mam needs to lie down,” I say. “You and Lewis play in the house. In the kitchen, there be a jar of cookies and candy.”

“Wheee,” he squealed, pulling Lewis, running back inside the house. I took my time. Pausing to breathe. To bend over when Charles Redmond kicked rough inside. I knew it
was a boy. Just as I knew Freddy wouldn’t be home to see our fourth child born.

Just as I knew I’d failed Mam. I broke my promise. Landlocked. Not near no kind of water.
How long my Mam been dead?
Shame on me. I didn’t feel it. Surely the earth knew. Ground must’ve shook. Flowers must’ve faded. Wind whistled it through trees.

I crawled into the bed, hoping this baby be quick. Nobody here but me and the children.
How come Mam’s spirit not come to me?
The pain made me roar.

I hurt too bad to light a candle, to light the fire. I writhed, twisting in the bedsheets. Everything going to get bloody. In the darkness, I whispered, “Oh, Mam.”

From far, far away I hear, “Oh, Mam.”
Rosetta calling. I hoped she’d keep her promises better’n me.

Charles’s head pushed its way out. Tearing me like a dozen knives.

Everything dark. I couldn’t see my child’s face.
But in my mind’s eye, I see Mam
.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I said.

Moon raised herself high. Charles Redmond wailed.
Curtains flared and a breeze rushed over me
. Holding my bloodied babe to my breast, I heard a song:
“Here. Here. I’m here.” Heard Rosetta cooing, “Mam. I love you.”

I stared at the words. Freddy read them to me and I memorized them. Rosetta didn’t know she had a new brother. I should draw pictures too. Of me and the baby. I thought about how little she said. Almost nothing.

Christmas. School holiday. Rosetta was home. I was happy.

All Freddy did was talk politics: “War will come one day. See if it won’t. The North can’t ride the fence forever.”

His words scared me. But he was jubilant. “War for the rights of slaves,” he exclaimed. “Freedom for everyone.”

All I wanted was home. Christmas feast. Hymns. Prayers to the good Lord. My children’s safety.

I wanted, too, not to be so tired. Everything tired me. Rosetta was a big help. She fed Lewis and Freddy Junior. Helped clean the kitchen. Washed clothes. She didn’t talk much about school. Freddy talked all the time. He be leaving again. To speak in New England. He practiced:

“I changed my paper’s name from the
North Star
to
Frederick Douglass’ Paper
… to distinguish it from the many papers with
‘Stars’
in their titles. There were
‘North Stars,’ ‘Morning Stars,’ ‘Evening Stars
,’ and I know not how many in the firmament… .”

I didn’t think his speech too interesting. Only when he
say: “There were those who regarded the publication of a Negro paper, in the beautiful city of Rochester, as a blemish and a misfortune” did he perk my interest. Though I never thought Rochester beautiful.

In time, Freddy’s voice became noise. His babble mingled with the boys’ rough games.

I watched Rosetta. She be moody, be staring at herself in the mirror.

In the New Year, Freddy would be gone traveling. Rosetta would leave after. Freddy had planned to take her early to school. But Deacon Thomas offered to take her. Offered ’cause he knew I didn’t want to lose a moment of me and Rosetta’s time. Freddy didn’t think of that.

Christmas Eve. Me and the children strung popcorn. Rosetta mixed cranberries with orange rind. We sang carols. Charles Redmond gurgled. We ate fine roast beef. Freddy even kissed me before the children. It be a fine night. We gathered in the parlor to exchange presents. Our tree be lit with candles and decorated with bows. Freddy Junior liked his wood whistle. Lewis, his ball. We saved extra to give Rosetta a doll. But when she unwraped the white china doll, she burst into tears and ran from the room.

Freddy be right angry. I told him, “Please, put the children to bed.” He shrugged. I knew he’d only say, “Children. Go to bed.” Then, hide in his office and preach abolition to the walls.

Fine. I laid my sleeping baby in his cradle. I found Rosetta on the front porch. Facedown, bent over her knees, crying her heart out. “I’m ugly. Always going to be ugly.”

Then, I understood her dislike for the doll. Girls at
school must’ve tried to dull her shine. I sat beside her on the step. “Did I ever tell you about how your granddad, my Papa, wooed your grandma, my Mam?”

“Naw. I mean, no.”

“Naw be all right. My Mam said ‘Naw.’ She was the prettiest colored girl in all of Maryland. She said ‘naw’ to all her beaus. It be your granddad who got her to say, ‘Yeah.’ Not yes. Just ‘Yeah, I do.’ Didn’t need proper speech to make a happy marriage.”

Rosetta giggled.

“Didn’t need no cream in her coffee, either.” I held out my hand. “Darker than me. Pa was proud to marry Mam. She be a beautiful Egypt queen.”

“Am I an Egypt queen?”

“No. Still a princess. Lovely, though, like Mam. You understand?”

She nodded.

“It be cold out here. Should we get our coats? Or get some hot chocolate and snuggle in Mam’s bed?”

We talked all night. Talked until neither one of us could keep our eyes open. Freddy never came. Which was fine. Rosetta drifted to sleep, snuggling beneath quilts, soft against my bosom.

I whispered, “You beautiful. Just like Mam. Inside and out. Better than a china doll.”

Half-wake, half-sleep, lids heavy, Rosetta sighed, “I won’t forget again.”

Them words made my best Christmas.

Rochester

Late spring, my garden was in full bloom. All my children be home.

Rosetta cut and arranged dahlias. I taught her how to make corn relish.

Freddy Junior be six; Lewis, five; and Charles Redmond, almost one. Freddy had been gone for forever. I felt guilty ’cause I was glad he wasn’t home, glad Miz Assing wasn’t in the back bedroom.

My bones be hurting. I felt like I was “making memories.” Like my whole life be passing by a lot faster than I wished. I felt Death coming. Not quite near but coming just the same. So, I let my children make mud pies, build campfires in the backyard, and sleep beneath the stars. I told them stories about the sea bones and the taste of crabs.

Some days, Rosetta played the pianoforte. Freddy Junior and Lewis made up songs. Nonsense tunes. I sang, too. They laughed since my notes be flat. Children didn’t mind. They happier than they’d ever been. Even Rosetta didn’t mind when Lewis ripped her paper dolls. Or when Charles Redmond sucked their heads off like sugar candy.

One evening, we all sat on the porch. Freddy Junior tried to catch fireflies in his Mason jar. Lewis giggled at the flickering lights leaping across the lawn. Charles was sleeping, open-mouthed, atop a quilt. I felt I’d gone back in time to Talbot County. Any minute, Mam gonna come out. Any minute, Pa gonna light his pipe and make his face shine in a halo.

I rocked. Content.

“See the patterns, Mam? In the stars?”

“Where you learn that from?”

“Teachers at school. See. There’s the Big Dipper. The Little Dipper is right beside it. And there’s Aquarius, the Water Bearer. Leo, the starry-eyed lion.”

“My, God makes wonders.”

“Won-der,” said Lewis, tasting the big sound in his little mouth.

“School done taught you good things.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She scrunched her lips. Then leaned and kissed sleeping Charles.

Lewis was jumping off the steps, pretending he could fly. “Whee,” flapped his arms. And he did it over and over again, even though I said “hush.” But Charles was a good baby. Hardly a sound ever startled him. So I said nothing when Rosetta moved down the steps and said, “Fly. Fly to me.” She caught Lewis and twirled him around ’til they both fell down dizzy.

“Mam! Mam!” Freddy Junior was almost to the gate, whooshing his jar through the air. “Mam!” he hollered shrill. “Mam!”

I stood. There were horsemen with torches, a wagonload of others. Some wore white hoods, covering their heads. Horses were neighing, snorting, breathing hard like
they’d run many a mile. But the men made no sound. Like a passel of ghosts, dead and dumb, carrying the flames of hell.

Lewis began wailing. I snatched him up, yelled, “Freddy Junior, come, be a good man. Look after your sister and brothers.”

Rosetta looked up at me.

“You the oldest. I rely on you. Let Freddy Junior help. You understand?”