The Slave Master's Son (21 page)

“Now,” John began as he lit his pipe. “I’m going to New Jersey this evening. I’ll be back as soon as possible. I shouldn’t be gone for more than six or seven hours. I wish you’d come with me, but I understand your hesitation. You’re afraid of yet another disappointment.” John blew smoke circles into the air. Hannah ate half her food then got up, knelt back to the ground, and began scrubbing again. John picked up her plate and glass, washed them, and headed up the steps to their bedroom to rest for a few minutes before heading off. Hannah followed.

She sat alone, looking out the bedroom window. She wiped a fresh tear from her eye. Suddenly, a look of angst covered her face like a blanket. She balled up her fists, picked up a vase, and hurled it across the room until it smashed into itsy bitsy bits, leaving sharp, jagged pieces of purple ceramic on the floor. She raced to her closet and removed her dress. Standing there naked and thin, she surveyed her clothing. She flipped through the dresses and skirts and found something modest and subdued, a light brown dress she’d made years ago but hadn’t embellished yet. She laughed out loud as she pinned her hair back and quickly slid on her shoes. After dressing, she walked past her son’s room then walked backwards slowly, opening the door carefully. She hadn’t stepped into his bedroom since he was removed from their home. She looked at his crib, empty. She peeked inside, imagining him lying there. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she pretended to rub her fingers through his dark hair. She picked up his teddy bear and held it close, bringing it close to her nose hoping to get a whiff of his natural aroma. She found it, inhaled deeply, and yelped a sorrowful moan before falling to the ground onto her knees, still gripping the bear with all of her might. After a few minutes, she regained her composure. She stood up, grimaced, and put the bear into the crib before walking out the room, down the stairs, then out the door.

* * *

Hannah fought the motion sickness from the ferry and made it through fairly unscathed. She was happy she’d forced some of the food down John had prepared or she imagined she would’ve gotten ill on the train ride that followed. She looked in her handmade purse and glanced at the train ticket stub. Once the train stopped, she eagerly grabbed her hat and bag and made her way to the exit door. She inhaled deeply, remembering the scent of Virginia. A slight smile broke across her face as she made her way across the station and through the people mulling about. Some familiar faces, but not names, were crowded around in the sea of black, brown, and pinkish hues.

As a child, the distance from there to Master Stewart’s house seemed insignificant. It was upwards of seven miles, and she and John ran most of the way, but now, it felt like an eternity. Hannah finally arrived at Master Stewart’s house. She was heavily fatigued but running on pure adrenaline. She looked at the front porch, the all-familiar front porch that she sat on, fell asleep on, swept, was carried up, and played with her dolls on. Her foot touched the first step, making a creaking sound. The house seemed so much older than it did when she’d last seen it. She knew the secret to opening the front door when it was locked. She banged on the bottom two times, jiggled the handle, and pushed upward. It swung open.

“It still works,” she said to herself as she entered the old mansion. It was uneasily quiet. She took careful steps into the kitchen hoping to see her mother. All she saw was a neatly stacked tray with a freshly polished silver tea kettle, stirring spoon, cream bowl, and cups. She stood in the middle of the dining room. The faint smell of cooked pheasant and butterbeans filled the air.

“Mama,” Hannah said in almost a whisper. “Mama!” she yelled, tears racing down her cheeks as she burst up the stairs. Mary opened her bedroom in disbelief.

“I thought I was dreamin’!” she yelled as she ran towards her daughter. She kissed and hugged her tightly. “Hannah, what are you doin’ here, Baby? Where’s my grandbaby? Why are you so skinny? You ain’t been eatin’! You look so tired!” She exclaimed as she took her worn hands and lovingly wiped Hannah’s tears away. “What you cryin’ for? Come on over here.” Mary stopped asking questions and led Hannah down the steps into the den. Hannah looked at her mother. She was heavier. Her hair had more streaks of gray running through it. She looked happier.

“Now, I want you to calm down. I’m gonna get you a glass of water, and when I come back, I want you to tell me what’s going on,” Mary stated evenly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hannah said, finally releasing her mother’s waist. Hannah looked around the den and at the now cold fireplace. She recalled the evening John and she made love in front of the hearth. She smiled. More tears cascaded down her face as thoughts of her son re-emerged, shattering the memory to bits. Mary returned with a cool glass of water and a cup of tea. She sat down close to her daughter on the sofa.

“Now, what’s goin’ on here, Hannah?” Mary asked concerned. Hannah recalled the entire story for her mother. Mary controlled her emotions, just listening.

“Hannah, you have to have faith. I had chil’ren that I never seen after birth. It hurts, I know. I feel in my heart you’ll get that baby back. You have to have faith! You’re a strong, young lady. You’ve changed a lot since you were taken away from this house. Somethin’ in you grew up quickly. Somethin’ in you changed, but you’re still my baby. I knew you was destined for a life I’d never know soon after you was born. You were different. You was full of life, trusting, unafraid. You wasn’t scared of nobody. It got you into a heap of trouble, but it made you who you is. You’s smart, sweet, and lovin’. It was no surprise to me that John would love you. Who wouldn’t love you?” Mary smiled as her eyes watered up. She held her daughter’s chin in the palm of her hand. “Your husband’s gonna be worried sick about you. You shouldn’t have come here without tellin’ him. He’s doing the best he can, as he always does. I know he’s tearing up the world tryin’ to find that baby! You gotta stop being angry with him.” She patted Hannah’s hand.

“A part of me hates John,” Hannah admitted. “I told him not to leave me, Mama! I could feel something bad might happen,” she explained.

“I understand you being sore, Hannah, but you realize he came here to get that divorce. He didn’t come here to have a jolly good time or for work even. He came here because of you, Baby!” Mary explained.

“I’m gonna go back home, but I need to see someone first,” Hannah said as she stood up and hugged her mother.

“I know you probably miss your friends here, so go right on ahead, and then go straight home,” Mary warned. “I’ll come and visit you soon.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Hannah kissed her mother’s cheek. “You look nice, Mama – real nice.” Mary smiled as she watched Hannah walk down the porch steps and head down the road.

* * *

Hannah’s sore feet continued to pound the uneven soil and tuffs of long grass. Shattered glass bottle shards crunched under her shoes. She felt her body warm. Her eyes glossed over and tackiness covered her tongue as her full, soft lips slightly parted. She stood in front of the house, with the moon voyeuristically cascading a sideways glow upon her brown, slender physique. Hannah walked up the steps and stood at the front door.

“Who’s there?” asked a dainty, feminine voice. Hannah did not respond. She opened the door and walked inside.

“Mama, is that you?” Gayle asked as she came out of the bedroom holding her Bible. Her long, reddish-blonde hair cascaded along her shoulders and down the length of her back. She rubbed her eyes and peered into the kitchen.

“Savannah?” she said before turning on the light. Gayle’s complexion flushed. “What are you doing here?” she questioned. Hannah took slow steps towards Gayle, her eyes fixated on her. The women were approximately the same height. Looking eye-to-eye, Hannah cocked her head to the side and stared at Gayle, starting from her bare pale feet going all the way up to the top of her head.

“Get out of my house!” Gayle screamed in terror.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Hannah raised her hand, reared it back, and slapped Gayle’s face so hard that her long tresses swung forward, covering her entire face. Gayle held her cheek and stumbled backward, moving hair out of her eye as she stumbled back.

“Because of you, my son is gone! Because of you, John’s chasin’ him into the night, and he ain’t come up yet. I spent days in jail with officers mistakin’ me for some fast trick, tryin’ to have their way wit’ me. The only thing that kept me alright was knowin’ I’d see my baby soon! You chasin’ a man that don’t want you, and your black heart seek revenge through hurtin’ me. Well now it’s my turn. I’m gonna hurt you like you done me!” Hannah took a heaping handful of Gayle’s hair and drug her across the floor. Gayle twisted and turned, her nightgown rising up above her waist, exposing her milky white flesh. Gayle tried desperately to hold onto table legs, chairs, anything, to no avail. Hannah yanked her free and continued dragging her.

“Please!” Gayle pleaded as her head bumped a sharp corner. “Please stop!” Hannah drug Gayle outside. The tiny stars sang their silent song of grief and mourning. Hannah took a few deep breaths then continued to drag Gayle down the front porch steps. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Each step creaked under the pressure of their bodies. Gayle howled in pain, blood now pouring from her hands as she tried in vain to cleave to anything within her reach.

“I have to go to trial because of you. I’m gonna be in a courthouse without my son – without my husband – without my Mama. I don’t know what’ll happen to me, but before anything does, before I’m taken away from my family, I wanted you and I to have a little girl talk. I guess you thought you were gonna destroy me and my family and just skedaddle. I ain’t John, Gayle. I don’t give two pennies about hittin’ no woman!” Hannah drug Gayle through the sharp, damp grass, over the anthills and through the thicket of forest greens.

“I been sittin’ in my house cryin’ for days on end. Now you about to cry!” Hannah’s eyes burned with seething, uncontrollable rage. She snatched Gayle’s head up harshly by her hair causing her eyes to slant back as her scalp tugged from the painful pressure. “Get on your knees!” Hannah screamed as she pulled a gun out of her stocking. Gayle peered into the darkness, hearing the click of the hammer. The moon drug the stars in the sky, keeping tabs on the two women cloaked in the wilderness. Moonlight whispered over the steel, allowing Gayle to see its majestic beauty and the destiny awaiting her in a matter of seconds. Gayle fell to her knees, sobbing.

“Please, Hannah! Please, I’ll do anything. Please don’t kill me,” she begged.

“Gayle, you scared?” Hannah asked coldly.

“Yes,” Gayle answered as she swallowed. “Hannah, I don’t…I don’t want John anymore, I’m sorry.”

“You’re so stupid. This ain’t about John no more. It ain’t about me, neither. We’re way past that. This is about my baby. You got my baby taken away from me. Ain’t no forgiveness or coming back from that. You wanted to hurt John, so you used me. You toyed with my life by messin’ wit’ my baby. You’re jealous of the love he has for us.” Gayle shook. The night air ran over her flesh and her tears continued to pour.

“If I’m gonna go to jail, it needs to be for a damn good reason. A good reason would be for killin’ the likes of you. Since you wanted me put away, I’m gonna make it worth it.” Hannah readjusted her weight as she kept the gun within inches of Gayle’s face. Gayle continued to cry. She looked around the woods in confusion. The moonlight caught a glimpse of the drool and snot running from Gayle’s face. Quiet crept in. Hannah heard the soft sound of water.

“You pissin’ yourself, huh?” Hannah asked as she pushed the gun closer to the bridge of Gayle’s nose. “I almost pissed myself when I was in the jail cell. I ain’t never been in any big trouble like that before,” Hannah said calmly. “Do you know what it’s like for a Negro woman to be in jail alone with a bunch of nasty white men pawin’ all over her? I don’t s’pose you do. You wished that upon me. I couldn’t even go to sleep for fear one of ’em would be on top of me. I had to keep fighting ’em until they got the picture. By then, I was all worn down. I was told the only reason they didn’t keep pushin’ the issue was because of who John was. I would’ve easily been raped and killed if he was just some ordinary man. You woulda liked that though, I’m sure.” Hannah spit ruthlessly in the grass. Gayle looked at Hannah and smiled. Hannah cocked her head to the side and glared at her. Gayle’s cackling rung through the wilderness, causing the wildlife to flutter.

“You’re going to get hung for this, Nigger!” she screamed.

“So be it. Without my baby and my husband, ain’t much more to live for. I ain’t scared to die, Ms. Gayle – but you are,” Hannah smiled. Gayle quickly stopped laughing and fell further to the ground in distress. The sound of a broken tree branch was heard. Hannah stood up straighter, looked over to her side as she kept her eye on Gayle.

“Hannah,” someone said softly. Gayle looked up.

“Help!” she screamed. “Help me!” she repeated.

“Shut up!” Hannah exclaimed as she shoved the gun violently against Gayle’s forehead.