The Slave Master's Son (23 page)

“Hannah, that’s fine, but it’s not necessary,” John assured.

“No, I’ll do it. If you can’t work for all that time, then I need to bring in some money. I know how to make money. It will help take my mind off – Jonathan.” Hannah’s eyes watered up. John grabbed and held her close, kissing the top of her head.

“Sweetheart, we’ll find him!” He kissed her again, embracing her as tightly as he could. Master Stewart cleared his throat.

“You two may want to refrain from any fondness until you’re behind closed doors,” he urged. John nodded in agreement as he released Hannah from his grip.

“John, though you can’t represent anyone in court, you can teach at one of the universities. I’ll see what I can do,” Master Stewart offered.

“No, Father. I know what to do. There are other options. Once the year suspension is lifted, I’ll have my own practice. I’ll prepare for it in the interim and continue to assist my colleagues. I just simply won’t be taking on any clients from this point forward.”

“Very well. Now, let’s get on with the matter of Jonathan Abraham Stewart. I wish to go to the colored orphanage alone. John, I want you to stay with Hannah. Obviously your trip to New Jersey provided you no new information?” Master Stewart asked.

“That’s correct. He’s not there. I have no reason to believe otherwise. A youngster matching his approximate age and description was in the dwelling, but he belonged to a white woman who clearly was his biological mother.” John sighed with disappointment.

“Take Hannah home, and you will hear word from me soon,” Master Stewart said as he placed his hat on his head. He reached for Hannah’s arm. “Try to get some rest,” he said softly in her ear before disappearing through the courtroom doors.

* * *

“Please, have a seat Mr. Stewart. My name’s Sophia White. It’s come to our attention the matter of Jonathan Stewart. Due to the information supplied by the police, however, our hands are tied,” Mrs. White said, her eyes darting about the room. Master Stewart sat down in the chair and removed his hat. He sighed as he lit his pipe.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not an acceptable means to take care of this matter. Because of your ineptness, I may have to call for some favors,” Master Stewart said evenly.

“Are you threatening us?” Mrs. White asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not. I’m simply stating facts. I’m certain you wouldn’t want attention from the press. Now granted, there’s little regard for colored and mulatto children usually. This isn’t an atypical phenomenon. The issue, however, is whom this mulatto child belongs to. I will, in fact, use my power, my name, my reputation, and whatever else is necessary to retrieve the child and return him to his rightful parents. I’ve tried diligently to not allow any of this private matter to seep out into journalistic hands. I’m a man of great esteem and didn’t wish for any public entities to know of my son’s situation, for it surely would cast a negative shadow upon me. However, I’ve come to the conclusion after much deliberation that he’s still my son, and that young baby that’s misplaced is my grandson, regardless of any shame or discomfiture I may associate with this matter,” Master Stewart explained. Mrs. White pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pursed her lips.

“As a mulatto myself, I understand the double-edged sword that our existence creates for others who are led to easy confusion. Regardless, I’d like to help you, but I just don’t see how I can legally do so. I’ll send word to the adoptive parents of the matter. We can only hope that their hearts will be understanding to the matter at hand,” she said aloofly.

“Mrs. White, that’s simply not good enough. I’m sorry that this couple, whomever they may be, will have to give up a child that over the past few weeks they may have grown an attachment towards, but it pales in comparison to that of the biological mother and father. This child is wanted, desperately wanted, and we’ll stop at nothing to get him back. I owe it to my son. I owe it to my grandson. I owe it to Mary.”

“Who’s Mary?” Mrs. White asked.

“It does not matter, just understand that there are many people counting on me to rectify this situation, and I’ll do just that. Do you know Mr. Abram Stevens Hewitt?” Master Stewart questioned.

“Why of course I know of him, he’s the mayor of New York,” Mrs. White said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I know him personally. Despite our having some difference of opinion as it pertains to political beliefs, he’s a friend of mine, a very close friend of mine indeed. I’m sure he’d love to have me over for dinner. He’s been asking for me to visit for quite some time. Here, have a look at this,” Master Stewart requested as he pulled out several photographs and papers from his briefcase. “Here Abram and I are at the iron mill,” Master Stewart smiled. “Here we are at his wedding. See, that’s me there in the middle.” Master Stewart laughed. “His wife’s Mr. Cooper’s daughter, and she…”

“I understand!” Mrs. White barked. “I understand what you’re driving at, Mr. Stewart. You’ve made your point.” Her voice was rose.

“Satisfactory, my dear.” Master Stewart smiled proudly as he gathered the photos.

“Please excuse me, I’ll return momentarily.” Mrs. White stood up and exited the small office. Master Stewart stood up and puffed on his pipe while pacing back and forth in the office. Mrs. White returned with a distinguished cocoa-skinned man with keen features. He extended his hand.

“Hello, Mr. Stewart. My name’s Harper Cole. I understand that there’s been a misunderstanding regarding your grandson?” Mr. Cole made his way across the room and took a seat at the desk.

“It appears so, Mr. Cole,” Master Stewart said coolly.

“I’d like to make this situation right. I apologize for the pain and suffering that your son and his – wife may have endured due to this misunderstanding,” Mr. Cole stated.

“Actions are more appropriate than lip service at this juncture,” Master Stewart responded.

“Yes, of course. I will personally, with police escort, go to the new parents’ home first thing in the morning and retrieve the child. I believe it’s best that they’re not alerted of the child’s removal beforehand,” Mr. Cole explained.

“So you’re essentially planning an ambush?” Master Stewart inquired.

“I see no other way to prevent the child from being virtually impossible to find,” Mr. Cole answered. “Please leave us the address where you’re staying while in town, and we’ll be in touch with you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cole. If I don’t hear anything tomorrow morning by 10:00AM, I’ll return with others. Others that you most likely don’t want to see,” Master Stewart warned.

“I understand,” Mr. Cole said hesitantly. Master Stewart placed his hat back on his head, nodded, and left.

* * *

“Father, come in,” John whispered as he opened the door. “She’s finally asleep. I don’t dare disturb her.” He took his father’s hat and hung it on the wall.

“No need. We’re to hear something by tomorrow morning. If not, I’ll resort to my contingency plan. This task required blackmail on my part, but it was much deserved,” Master Stewart said reflectively.

“Let me lead you to our spare bedroom. We haven’t had time to finish it. There’s only a bed and dresser, but hopefully you will find it sufficient.”

“It will be fine, John. Before I got to sleep, may I have a word with you?”

“Certainly.”

“Let’s sit outside, in the back so that Hannah does not overhear us,” Master Stewart whispered.

“Very well.” John slid his jacket on and followed his father to the back patio. The two men sat down on the steps. There was a heavy silence between them. Mirror images of the old and the new, their shoulders touched. John’s hair was now falling into his face. He pushed it back gently with his hand and rubbed his jaw. Spotting a wild dandelion growing, he plucked it and twirled it around between his thumb and index finger.

“I could really use a drink,” John finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be right back.” John got up and returned with two glasses of dark liquor.

“I keep it hidden under the floorboard,” John laughed. “Hannah doesn’t like it when I drink. She says I act juvenile. I’m a happy drunk.” John and his father laughed.

“You have to be able to hold your liquor if you want to hold your woman,” Master Stewart laughed.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Silence crept between them once more, building a bridge that neither was willing to cross.

“If for some reason we don’t recover Jonathan, I want you to know that I’m deeply apologetic about this situation. I take full responsibility,” Master Stewart said as he sipped at his drink.

“If we don’t get him back, my world is over,” John stated. “Hannah will never be the same, and I fear – I fear she’ll never want me again. I’ll be a constant reminder of his disappearance.” John dropped his head.

“I’m hoping that won’t transpire. So many awful things have occurred, all because you two love each other and wanted to be together. I do applaud you for your bravery, John. I wouldn’t be able to withstand being ridiculed and ostracized, but you seem not the least fettered,” Master Stewart said weakly.

“I’m affected, dear Father. I’m just not affected enough to let it get in the way of whom I wish to dedicate my life. When you love someone as much as I love Hannah, and she loves me the same as I do her, you will do anything to get it back should it ever escape. Every day feels new with her. She knows all of my oddities, my fears, my loves. She knows what makes me tick, makes me laugh, and makes me ill. Her mother raised me. I nursed from Mary, too. What many would’ve seen as a brother-sister friendship of sorts between a slave master’s son and a slave’s daughter was an early love affair. I taught her to read for many reasons, some selfish. I knew someday, I’d want her to be able to read my love letters.” John’s voice trailed off.

“I always felt like I kept you a bit sheltered,” Master Stewart said. “I felt as though if I would’ve had you around more children, this wouldn’t have happened. There were so many young ladies who wanted to be courted by you. I thought you’d change, but you never did.” Master Stewart shook his head slowly.

“You don’t snap out of being in love. It was meant to be. She and I were meant to be.” John polished off his drink. “Father, back when Hannah and I were children, were you in love with Mary?” John asked as he turned to his father, staring at him eye-to-eye, man-to-man. Master Stewart looked carefully at John. His eyes glossed over, slick and shining bright. Crickets chirped, waiting anxiously for the answer.

“John,” his voice trembled, “I still am.” He slowly stood up and walked inside the house, leaving his son alone on the porch with his haunting thoughts. John plucked another dandelion from the ground and twirled it between his fingers. He slowly blew the white fuzz away, closing his eyes and feeling the night breeze run its fingers affectionately through his shoulder-length mane.

* * *

“Someone’s at the door,” mumbled Hannah as she rubbed her eyes. She stretched and yawned, wrapping her robe securely around her bony body. John came up behind her, hugged her, and kissed her neck as he looked out the window.

“Let me see who it may be,” John offered. As he made his way to the door, Master Stewart sat at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee. He looked at a newspaper pensively and bit into a piece of dry toast. John tucked his shirt into his pants and opened the front door, slightly apprehensive.

“Uh, hello, I’m here to speak to Mr. Stewart.”

“I’m he,” John remarked as he looked the man over. Master Stewart slowly got up from the table and stood close behind his son.

“Hello, Mr. Cole,” Master Stewart said grimly. “John, Mr. Cole’s from the colored children’s orphanage.” Mr. Cole nodded.

“This is my son, John,” Master Stewart introduced.

Mr. Cole smiled and said, “Ahhh, I see.” Master Stewart noticed the baby wasn’t with him. He clasped his hands together and shook his head in disapproval.

“Well, I said I’d follow up with you this morning,” Mr. Cole smiled.

“Yes, you did. It’s 9:54AM, Mr. Cole,” Master Stewart said coldly. Just then a police officer approached the house. He rushed towards the open door with a bundle wrapped tightly in his arms. John pushed past Mr. Cole and grabbed the baby. He unwrapped Jonathan and looked at his son’s face. Jonathan was asleep until John shrieked, “Hannah!” John fled into the living room, standing about holding the child, spinning in excitement.