The Slave Master's Son (25 page)

“You need some turnip plants, Hannah.” Mary said breathlessly as she rubbed her wide hip. “Start those next spring,” she insisted as she walked over to Master Stewart and picked up her grandson.

“Yes, Mama,” Hannah said somberly.

“Hannah, what’s the matter?” Mary asked as she smiled down on Jonathan.

“I just missed you so much. I don’t want you to go.” Hannah walked into the kitchen with an arm full of dishes. Mary followed behind her, placing an apron around her waist.

“Baby, I’ll see you. I know you’re worried about being ill, but I’m sure you’re gonna be OK. You’re strong. You do what that doctor says, and take care of yourself.”

“I will – I promise,” Hannah smiled half-heartedly. The five sat around the table and laughed, swapping stories throughout the evening. Hannah served seconds of dessert – cherry and pumpkin pie – to everyone – two slices each. However, she only sipped her soup while the intoxicating aromas of turkey, roasted corn, and bread pudding teased her nostrils and watered her taste buds.

“I’m going to go on to bed,” Hannah said wearily as she changed Jonathan’s nappy and prepared him for bed.

“Let me walk you up,” Mary said as she exhaled deeply, patted her stomach, and escorted her daughter to her bedroom. John and Master Stewart sat in silence momentary.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Master Stewart said as he tapped his cup with his fingers.

“Afraid of what?” John asked, his daydreaming interrupted.

“Afraid Hannah may not make it. She seems in good spirit, but…”

“But this is serious, and you can see it taking its toll on her,” John finished.

“Yes. Mary has been praying incessantly,” Master Stewart said as he reached across the table and patted Jonathan’s hand. John nodded, drifting off into thought again.

“OK, Hannah is in the bed. I’m afraid I’ve eaten too much,” Mary laughed as she came slowly back down the steps. Master Stewart stood up unhurriedly and retrieved Mary’s and his coats from the rack.

“Thank you for coming,” John said as he dug his hangs into his pockets. “It was a short visit, but a much needed one,” he smiled weakly.

“Thank you for inviting us!” Mary said with a hearty chuckle. “We hope to see you at Christmas. You know we’d stay longer, but Master Stewart already agreed to…”

“Host a party,” Master Stewart shook his head. “It’s a fundraiser of sorts. I wish I hadn’t. I’d like to have stayed longer,” he smiled. Mary smiled as she gave John a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Master Stewart hugged his son tight before departing.

“Let us know how Hannah is!” Mary called out once more as the door shut. John walked woefully into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk, his mind racing a million miles a minute.

* * *

“I don’t want the slightest token of pity,” Hannah said willfully as John helped her sit up in bed. She coughed violently into her handkerchief.

“How did you visit go with Dr. Armstrong yesterday?” John asked as he escorted her down the steps carefully.

“Uneventful,” Hannah said dryly.

“I’ve arranged a coach to pick you up for the remainder of your appointments. I’ve also arranged for Jonathan to be watched by Harriet.” Harriet was their next door neighbor’s sixteen-year-old daughter. She was the daughter of an Irishman who fell into a rich inheritance from his recently deceased uncle. Hannah knew his wife by the wafting of delicious smells that emanated from their home. She baked bread constantly. Harriet was mesmerized by Hannah. She often would say, “She’s the most beautiful negro I’ve ever seen!”

Hannah bathed and dressed. She rolled her elongated neck and massaged, slowly working out a crick. Leisurely, she put on a cream-colored blouse and blue skirt, buttoning it up and smoothing it out meticulously. She walked outside, boarded the coach and sat in silence on her way to Dr. Armstrong’s office.

She shook Dr. Armstrong’s hand and laid down on the examination table again. He began to press his fingertips into her abdomen.

“The good news is that you
don’t
appear to be losing any more weight. The bad news is that you’re not gaining any either,” he said gently as he continued to knead her stomach. Hannah looked up at the ceiling, then slowly closed her eyes. She drifted into memories of her mother braiding her thick hair. The curls would snarl and tangle and Hannah would yelp as Mary would work them free. Mary’s nimble dark fingers would move frantically through her daughter’s soft but thorny tresses, creating a masterpiece. Hannah smiled as her mother placed a small, yellow flower in her daughter’s hair after plaiting it thinly, so that it flowed down her back in dark-brown, hearty ropes. She spun around and around when the scent of lavender and lily of the valley was dabbed behind her ears.

“Hannah. Hannah?” Dr. Armstrong called out gently. Hannah snapped out of her daydream.

“Yes?” she finally responded.

“You’re progressing. I want you to get more rest. No solids yet, though.” Dr. Armstrong continued to press around Hannah’s stomach. He looked at her intensely as he worked his fingertips up and down her lower abdomen.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” Hannah asked disdainfully.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he said frankly.

“I’m married. Don’t get fresh with me,” she snapped as she abruptly sat up. Dr. Armstrong laughed.

“You really aren’t married, Hannah. Your marriage isn’t legal.” He looked up at the sky, put his hand over his heart and recited aloud, “Every person having one-fourth or more Negro blood shall be deemed a colored person, and every non-colored person having one-fourth or more Indian blood, shall be deemed an Indian. I don’t know where this supposed marriage took place, but laws around here are different,” he laughed weakly.

“I’m married, and you can’t convince me otherwise. Now, if we’re done here, I’m going home.” Hannah jumped down from the table and slid on her slippers.

“I appreciate your loyalty to Mr. Stewart, but…”

“Why don’t you get your own woman, Dr. Armstrong? You can’t have everything you see just ’cause you like it!” Hannah snapped as she made her way to the front door. Dr. Armstrong stepped out into the hallway calling her name. Hannah looked back, opened the door then descended the steps and quickly entered the awaiting carriage on her way back home. Her anger caused her to not even recall the ride back home, her thoughts were so clouded.

She knocked loudly on her neighbor’s door, her knuckles did not stop moving. Harriet came to the door, dressed in a spring dress that was entirely too large. Her auburn hair was pulled back, and she had Jonathan resting on her pointy hip. She smiled at Hannah, exposing a slight pair of dimples.

“Here’s your Mama!” teased Harriet as she handed Jonathan to Hannah.

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble,” Hannah said as she collected him and kissed him on his forehead.

“No, not at all!” Harriet assured, her thick Irish accent dripping from each word.

“Mr. Stewart will pay you as soon as he gets home. Money ain’t what it used to be, but we can give you something,” assured Hannah. Harriet waved her hand.

“Oh, no bother. I enjoy watching him. He’s such a delight.” Hannah looked Harriet up and down meticulously.

“Do you mind coming over with me to the house? I want to take your measurements,” Hannah asked.

“My measurements?” Harriet asked confused, placing her hand to her chest.

“Yes, let me make you a nice dress,” Hannah smiled as she took Harriet by her elbow and led her a few feet away. Harriet walked inside and looked around.

“I see you’ve grown more indoor plants,” Harriet said as she touched the coat rack.

“Yes, my mother wants me to be great gardener,” Hannah laughed. “Come follow me upstairs.” Harriet happily followed behind. Hannah opened her bedroom door, exposing beautifully folded linens in creams, purple, and bronze. A small stack of half-knitted blankets set beside them.

“Oh, Hannah, did you make these?” Harriet said with enthusiasm as she let her fingertips trail over several tablecloths folded in triangles on a vanity.

“Yes,” Hannah smiled. “I have to put borders on them, though.” Hannah placed Jonathan on the floor, allowing him to roam around as she grabbed her measuring tape. She swiftly came up behind Harriet and measured her shoulders, waist, bust line, hips, and height. Hannah put a pencil behind her ear and scratched off a few notes before continuing. Harriet laughed as she was tickled by some touching. Hannah smiled, looking back at Jonathan then frontward again. “OK, all done. What’s your favorite color?” Hannah asked as she folded her tape measure.

“Red, but my mother would never let me wear it. She thinks it’s too flashy, not appropriate in the least,” Harriet blushed.

“Would pink be alright?” Hannah asked as she walked towards a large dresser and pulled out various shades of pink spools of thread.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Harriet said eagerly.

“Very well then. Thank you again for watching Jonathan,” Hannah said appreciatively.

“It was my pleasure. I’ll see him tomorrow at the same day and time after that, too,” Harriet said as Hannah walked her to the front door. Hannah nodded as she closed the door. She thought about Dr. Armstrong and shook her head angrily before heading swiftly back up the steps to sit down at her sewing machine.

* * *

John came home and hung up his coat and hat. He patted his jacket arm and smiled to himself.

“It’s awfully quiet in here,” he thought. “There’s no food,” he said aloud, annoyed.

“Hannah?” he called out. Not receiving an answer, he hurried up the steps and opened the bedroom door. There he found Jonathan asleep in a folding basket, slightly snoring while Hannah, her back towards him, moved her arms as quickly and busily as a spider would sewing a web. Layers of fabric dropped from the machine and a pile of beautiful dresses stacked a foot high lay beside her slippered foot. Hannah had stuck several ornate sewing pins in her bun while she continued to work feverishly.

“My Lord!” John exclaimed. “The sun is set, and I dare say you haven’t been out of this room since you returned home.” He walked over to Hannah and kissed the back of her neck. She looked up at him then around the room as if in a daze.

“I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time.” She stood up to prepare dinner when her husband took her arm gently.

“No, continue what you’re doing. You look better, by the way,” he said with a grin. “I’ll rummage something up.” John stepped over the pile and turned to look back at it.

“Hannah, these are very good.” He picked up one of the dresses, letting his fingers run underneath the fabric as he flipped it in various angles, examining the craftsmanship.

“Thank you,” Hannah said favorably.

“How was your doctor’s appointment?” John asked, still looking at the dresses.

“Fine,” Hannah answered wryly. “Are you certain I can’t make you any dinner?” she requested.

“I am. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Do you need anything?” John asked as he made his way to the door.

“More thread,” Hannah laughed.