Douglass’ Women (6 page)

“You’ll have to quit your extra work. You barely have time enough to give proper care here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She was shaking with rage, dressed in a blue muslin, a kerchief in her hand.

“Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then why are you upsetting me? Doing less than your best work? I rely on you.”

I hung my head.

“If you’re in love, then marry. Marry so you may do your work well. Be whole in mind, in heart again.”

“I’m trying. I want to be married.”

She exhaled. “Then I’ll have Mr. Baldwin speak to Gates’s employer. He’ll make Gates settle down. Gates will be a better worker for it and you will, too.”

I felt so guilty. Gates was a good, grown man. Didn’t need the Baldwins messing in his affairs. Still, I knew Gates was sweet on a kitchen maid. He’d marry her and I’d be gone soon with my Freddy.

“Thank you, ma’am.” I bobbed a curtsy. “You a good Mistress.”

She left. I went back to packing.

Hanged. I could be hanged. Or sold. Kidnapped into slavery
.

That Sunday evening, I met Freddy at African Zion Church. There was a church supper and all the women competed to see who could make the best chicken and pie. Normally, I would’ve entered the contest, but Freddy and our escape was too much on my mind.

In a pew, side by side, Freddy and I listened to “Blessed Be My Savior” and to the Preacher’s sermon. “Our Good
Lord forgives everything,” Preacher say. “There is no wrong that can’t be undone. No act that can’t be forgiven.”

I prayed the Good Lord forgave my sinful urges. I only felt what He made it possible for me to feel.

After service, Freddy and I walked on, away from the talk and good eating. He was so serious. Quiet. I felt a distance between us even though our feet were keeping time, keeping even pace.

We stopped beneath a willow. My back against bark, Freddy kissed me slow and deep. There was a hunger in him and I was glad.

I knew I could feed him, fill him up. I’d plenty love.

Sometimes, Freddy looked at me with wonder. He still didn’t quite know me. Except for escape talk, we said little. But we did much and what we did was glorious.

I wasn’t coy, simpering like Miz Baldwin. I gave back kiss for kiss. Stroke for stroke. I was shameless. But for Freddy, I was willing to be.

He pulled back, looked at the stars. He was standing like a statue again, looking out beyond the horizon. Wind lifted his hair a bit. He swallowed. Then he say,

“Master Auld threatened to return me to Talbot County. He says my independence in the city is too much. I’m becoming too full of myself, earning wages.”

I wanted Freddy to look at me. Master Auld didn’t matter.

“I think I should escape immediately. Tomorrow.” My breath came fast. I was scared but said, “I can be ready.”

He turned, looked at me over his shoulder. “It would be safer if I left alone. Once in New York, once safe, I can send for you.”

I slid down the tree, just crumpled on the earth’s ground.

“I should leave without delay.”

“Without delay,” I repeated, numb.

Looking up at him, looking down on me, I pleaded. “Please don’t leave me.”

He stooped, his hands cupping my knees.

Thinking my dreams at an end, I cried, “Please.”

“I have no way of predicting the future,” he said softly. “But I do know, any day, Master Auld will send me back to the Great House. If I’m to have a chance at freedom, the time is now.”

“You said we’d visit Mam.”

“There’s no time.”

“Mam must give her blessing.”

“No time. Only time enough for me to escort you home. For you to give me the seaman clothes. The ship’s passage and funds. I must leave tomorrow. My motto must be: ‘Trust No One.’ Until I’m safe.”

I heard the sense in what he said, still I thought he was hard. A handsome man but hard.

“Why you can’t take me?”

He gripped my shoulders. “I want to. But two leaving together is doubly unsafe. Someone will connect us two. We’d both be hunted down.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Or keep me from helping you.” I regretted the words soon as I’d said them. Freddy stiffened, wrinkled his face.

He stood. “Believe what you like.”

“Please.” Folks were singing again, this time about
“Johnny Shake Corn.” “I don’t want to fight. ’Specially if I might not see you again.”

“You’ll see me. I’ll send for you.”

“Will you?” I couldn’t help my bitterness.

Once free, he had no reason to keep me. No reason at all. Lots of pretty women would be glad to marry him. Now he was asking me to let him go. To trust him when he hadn’t trusted me.

I understood his need for freedom. But I needed the whole truth. Not pieces like you’d give a child. Maybe being a man, being a slave, Freddy didn’t understand that. Or, maybe, he be lying.

The moon was just above his head. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was a proud man. He could go off and leave me without saying a word.

Maybe this was my test. Letting him go, I’d prove my trust.

I’d let him go ’cause it was best. Best for him. Worse for me.
Ain’t that love?

I stood, threw my arms about him. It didn’t matter if he didn’t meet Mam, didn’t matter if he left ahead of me. Nothing mattered but him loving me—here and now. I held on, pressing close. I felt his resistance, the tightness in his body. I kissed him, kissed him hard, tender, quick, long and deep. I kept on ’til I felt his body responding, felt his desire. Then, I felt happy again.

I stepped aside, letting both our bodies cool down. It wouldn’t do to have the Preacher or anyone else find us. But I kept a secret smile, ’cause I believed tonight, when he walked me home, he’d take my hand, lead me into my room and love me good, before saying “bye.”

This last night we’d make a memory to keep me warm,
’til he say, “Anna, come,” and I’d fly up North, quicker than any bird.

We never made that memory.

Walking home, Freddy got colder. Sullen. Spoke nary a word. And I got colder, too, feeling my job was to give and give. Love was a hard toll. I wanted a breath of kindness from him, a sweet word to soothe my worry.

“I can be hanged,” I murmured, turning over the uniform, eighty dollars—the rest of my life’s savings, the ship’s ticket. “I can be hanged.”

He said nothing. Just took everything. Then, kissed me like a father kisses his child and patted my back.

Sweat shone on his skin. He be a giant. Hands locked tight, eyes half-closed, there was a strength and power in him, waiting for release. He was already on his way. Journeying on. He’d already left me.

“Hold me,” I begged. He did and I heard his heart drum. But his desire had fled.

“I’ll send for you.”

“Stay safe,” I whispered when I wanted to shout,
“Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll send for you.” He left and I didn’t, couldn’t move. I heard his boots crossing the kitchen, the screen door opening then clicking shut, heard his footfalls on the steps, then silence as I imagined him walking, then running, speeding swiftly across the yard. A dog howled. I wanted to howl. Howl ’til my heart broke, howl my longing so that no matter how far Freddy went, he could hear me.

But because he was escaping, I kept my mouth shut. Swallowed my pain. I’d cast my lot with Frederick Bailey.

“I’ll send for you.”
Deep inside me, I felt, “Liar, liar.”

Lena rubbed against my leg, wanting to be fed. I stooped and buried my face against her fur. “Do you think he loves me, Lena? Will he keep his word?”

Lena’s tail flicked; she purred. Her yellow eyes blinked.

“You know, don’t you, cat?”

I fell upon the pillow, stuffing my hands into my mouth to quiet my scream. Lena sauntered out the room like she didn’t need me, either.

I cried, thinking this loneliness was worse than hanging.

When the stars grew light and the sun started peeking over the horizon, I imagined Freddy already far away, already on the ship north. And I cursed, ’cause at the prayer meeting, Preacher could’ve married us. I didn’t think of it.

Freddy didn’t either.

The Penny-letter-man came to call. He had a message from Mam, from over a month ago. Penny-man say, “Can only travel so fast. Got more customers than you.”

“Just say what Mam had to say,” I said nervous. Mam never wasted a penny unless it was bad news. Somebody hurt. Sick.

“No sense to pay a penny to Penny-man to speak my love,” Mam always say. “Penny-man shouldn’t have to tell what you already know.”

But two months ago, I’d asked Mam a question. I tried not to be embarrassed telling my words to Penny-man. I would’ve kicked him if he’d laughed. Would’ve cursed him every Sunday. I’d asked: “How do you know when a man love you?”

I wasn’t sure if Mam would spend a penny to answer or not. She might think me silly or, worse, a fool. Ain’t a woman supposed to know? But, unlike Pa, I suspected Freddy might never say the words. And if he didn’t say them, how would I know?

Penny-man spit, then climbed down from his perch. He patted his horse. He say, “You sure you don’t need some soap?” He lifted the flap on his wagon. “I’ve got good tallow, too. Kerosene.”

Penny-man lean and ugly. His face burnt red, he stank
of scum and whiskey. He made money carrying messages but colored folks usually had to buy something before he’d give them their folks’ words.

“Soap, Penny-man. A bar of soap. Nothing more.”

Penny-man chuckled. “Cleanliness, godliness.”

“You done gone to the Devil then,” I said, giving him a penny. “Well.”

He look at me. Toothy-grin. “Little things.”

“What?”

“Little things.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just saying the words I’m paid.”

“There must be something more, Penny-man. Mam must’ve said something more.”

“No more.”

I shook my head. “What’s it supposed to mean?”

“Give me a penny and I’ll ask.”

“I’m not giving you any more money. Go on. Get.”

“Can’t blame me if you don’t like the message.”

“Get.”

He clicked, his horse trotted, pulling his cart. Pans clanging, Penny-man whistling. He grinned his toothy-self and winked.

I sat on the porch step. Mind whirling, I was sorry I’d asked anything.

“Little things.”

“Mam, what’s that mean? What it mean?” I felt empty. Buried my head in my lap. Damn Freddy. Damn the whole blessed world.

Little things
. “Oh, Mam,” I moaned. “Oh, Mam.” I needed her good sense. But I surely didn’t understand her words.

I wanted to be a child again. Wanted her comfort. Wanted her circling her hand on my back, whispering “It’s all right.”

Little things
. Like a hand comforting.

That’s what she meant—

Memories rose and I could see Pa courting, loving Mam long after their babies. I could see his hand resting softly on Mam’s shoulder. See Pa smiling at her, holding her yarn. See Pa bringing a fish, already cleaned, ready to be fried. Pa, handing Mam a glass of water while she worked in the garden. Watching her drink, then bringing another glass. Pa rubbing Mam’s toes. Making her laugh. During fall and spring, he’d bring her the first red leaf or the first flower. Winter, he’d drape a shawl about her shoulders.

Little things
.

Wiping my face, I went inside the house, pulled my wedding dress from beneath my bed. Once Freddy brung me flowers. But other than him being inside me, there’d been no little things and I doubted there ever would be.

Two weeks, I’d heard not a word from Freddy. Two weeks, I’d sewed my hopes and dreams into my wedding dress. Cotton, lace, satin ribbons and rows of even stitches were signs of my love.

Now I didn’t have any hope or dreams left.

Little things
.

The dress was hateful. I snatched it up, shook it, tore the sleeves, ripped the ribbons. Shredded the lace threads. Hateful, hateful dress.

Two weeks had passed and I still didn’t know if Bailey made it to New York, if he was walking the streets alive, or dead in some pauper’s grave or, sold, being
marched south to Mississippi. My heart was chained.

If he was dead, I think I would’ve felt it. The sun would’ve dimmed; the sky would’ve been less blue. Him dead, I could take. But what scared me was him alive, not sending for me.

This my sore. Bailey free and me chained here. All I had to do was look in the mirror to know why Freddy left me.

This isn’t how I dreamt it. I needed to leave today. Now. Soon as I started showing Miz Baldwin going to fire me.

I sucked air, letting myself think for the first time, what my body knew to be true. Bailey’s seed in me. And I’m chained to a man who doesn’t want me—who’d never do little things,
anything
, to show his love.

I wiped my tears. Life goes on. I will, too. I’d better ’cause a baby’s on the way and Murrays always take care of their own. Married or not, my family would accept me and mine.

I exhaled. Roads were hard but I could walk.

Next time I see Mam, I’ll ask: “What’s the best thing Pa ever did?” She’ll think I’m silly, maybe a child to feel sorry for. But she’ll sit me down and tell me stories, memories to pass on to my child. While my memories, what
didn’t
happen for me, be weighing me down.