The Slave Master's Son (32 page)

“Now, let’s get your bedroom dolled up. Go on and finish that number and I’ll take care of everything.” Hannah walked back up the steps while Opal laid out the whiskey, placed the cigars on a platter and set them in the living room, then came up the steps with another bag she’d laid by the entrance. While Hannah continued to sew, Opal changed the bed linens, adorned the bedroom curtains with ropes as well, hung a large gold framed painting of a lake and put a new lipstick on Hannah’s dresser along with the hair pins.

“Hannah, how are your wifely duties?” Hannah turned around and faced Opal.

“What you sayin’? I beg your pardon? I know you ain’t said what I think you said.” Hannah’s mouth was open in disbelief. Opal laughed, holding her stomach. She shook her finger.

“Hannah, one thing I love about you is that you speak prim and proper for as long as you can, but if you’re overly energetic, surprised or mad, Richmond, Virginia comes out, and a bunch of discombobulated Negro slang that no one can barely understand.” Opal continued to laugh while Hannah shushed her and rolled her eyes.

“Are you giving your husband everything he needs is what I’m asking,” Opal said as she placed her hand on her hip.

“I s’pose so. When he ask for it, I usually give it to him.” Hannah answered seriously. She felt her whole body get warm with embarrassment.

“What about now?” Opal asked.

“Well, I’m…”

“That has nothing to do with it. Your husband is hurting, Hannah. When he comes home, approach him. He may not approach you, but he may need it,” Opal informed as she picked up the empty bags. “Give Jonathan a kiss for me. I’m going to give you some space so you can get yourself together and be with your husband when he gets back in a few days. If you need me, you know where I am.” Opal smiled and winked, then slowly went down the steps, closing the door gently behind her.

* * *

Hannah put the finishing touches on her hair. She couldn’t help but think that the shiny, silver swans in her hair were a bit overboard. She sat at the vanity and rolled up the lipstick. It was a rich, deep red.

“Mama would say this is what harlots wear,” Hannah giggled to herself as she traced her upper lip, just as Opal had taught her and then the bottom. She slid on the tiny diamond drop earrings Opal once again conveniently left behind and sprayed the rich, sweet and musky perfume behind her ears, on her neck and her wrists. She slid the negligee on she’d made. She looked at herself and laughed. Her large stomach protruded and her ample bosom overflowed. The neckline plunged, showing enough cleavage to drown in. Hannah put her hand to her mouth coyly as she turned around and looked over her shoulder into the mirror. Tiny giggles escaped her ruby red mouth. She heard the door. Hannah’s nerve almost gave way. She finally went down the steps after checking on Jonathan to ensure he was in his room playing with the door closed. Hannah walked slowly in the shiny shoes Opal had let her borrow. She stood to the side of the door and saw her husband walk in. Initially he did not notice her.

“Hannah! Hannah! We’re home!” John shouted. Hannah’s face contorted.

“We?” she thought frantically. John turned and faced her. The color in his face disappeared as he looked at her up and down. Just then, Master Stewart ushered his cane past the threshold. He looked at John then over at Hannah, covering his mouth with his handkerchief.

“Well, Hannah,” Master Stewart said with a wide smile, “that sure is some get-up you have on,” he laughed. John quickly escorted his father to the guest bedroom, leaving Hannah standing there, half-naked, face made-up, swans sticking sharply out of her hair, and the door wide open allowing the brisk late-afternoon air to laugh at her too. Hannah slammed the door, hurried up the steps and quickly closed the master bedroom door behind her. As she began to scrub the lipstick off, the bedroom door slowly opened. John stood there for a moment, lingering, with his arms crossed. He then broke out in a grin and then uncontrollable, loud laughter.

“John, it’s not funny! I’m humiliated! Master Stewart saw me in that ridiculous costume, and look at me. I look just silly!” Hannah’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh, Sweetheart!” he grabbed her and held her close, still laughing but squeezing her to his chest. Every time he tried to speak, more giggles came out making Hannah even more frustrated.

“OK, I’m not laughing anymore,” John reassured. “I personally think you look absolutely adorable. I wasn’t able to update you in a timely fashion regarding the change of plans. Master Stewart’s going to stay here with us, for awhile. Your mother is keeping watch of the home but shall arrive when notice of his…”

“You don’t have to say it, John,” Hannah said as she pushed her face against his chest. She missed being in his strong arms. John pushed her away but held onto her arms as he studied what she had on. He took particular pleasure in her ample, bosom.

“Hannah, Master Stewart’s worse. He requested to come here and spend time with me, but never gave a clear answer as to why. Regardless, I’m honoring his last wishes. I’m sorry again I was unable to tell you sooner. Let me get him situated and I’ll be right back.” John kissed her forehead before departing. Hannah removed the pins from her hair and laid them down on the vanity. She finished removing the lipstick and slowly slid out of the lingerie. She picked up her brush and gently brushed her curly tresses back away from her face. As she did, she did not hear John creep up behind her until he nestled his face in the crevice of her shoulder and neck.

“You smell heavenly,” he said deeply into her ear. Hannah smiled. “At least you got one thing right, Opal,” she thought to herself.

“There’s some whiskey, rum, cigars and other things downstairs for you,” Hannah said shyly. John remained quiet and pushed his arms around Hannah, clasping them right under her breasts and resting on her stomach. He looked at her darkened areolas. He smiled at the dark chocolate line going down her stomach disappearing into a curly pool of soft, downy pubic hair. John placed his hand over her stomach and rubbed it gently.

“Is that our little girl?” he said playfully as he felt a light kick against his hand. Hannah laid her head down on his chest, welcoming his touch and embrace. She slowly reached up, allowing her right arm to graze the side of his one day old stubble face. Hannah turned around and looked her husband in his eyes.

“John, I love you with all of my heart. I know that you’re hurting right now. I’m here for you.” Hannah’s full lips caressed his slowly. John leisurely put his arms around her, rubbing her back as their breathing accelerated. Hannah took John by the hand and led him to their bed. He quickly undressed, watching her as she climbed under the covers, a mound rising upward over her tummy. Suddenly John stopped. He quickly put his pants back on and rushed into Jonathan’s room. A few minutes later he returned, with a smile on his face.

“I had to say hello to my boy. I missed him so badly,” he said as he unbuttoned his pants and walked towards her. John slid under the sheets, gathering close to Hannah as they embraced and hugged tightly. They moved their bodies slowly together, breathing heavily and in sync. Hannah felt John slowly enter her as he looked deeply into her eyes. They laid on their sides, as if one human being. After awhile, Hannah felt John take a deep gulp and squeeze her gently. She rubbed his face and softly sung to him as she watched tears fall out of his eyes, onto the pillow. He continued to move back and forth, finally succumbing to his body’s desires. Hannah embraced him tightly, bringing his head to her bosom. He sobbed harshly.

“It’s going to be OK, Baby. I’m here. You’re home.”

* * *

“Where did you get these?” John asked as he stood in his pajamas. “You must have cleared out the entire bank account to purchase them,” he chuckled as he lit one.

“Those are from Opal. You know I don’t know nothin’ about no cigars,” Hannah corrected as she picked Jonathan up.

“Young man, you’re getting too heavy. Mama can’t keep hoisting you around. You know how to walk. God gave you two feet, use them,” John demanded. John puffed away, enjoying the aroma. He had made plans for the whiskey later on in the day. Master Stewart’s breakfast was done. Hannah started to go up the stairs to serve him when John took her hand.

“No, Hannah, let me give it to him. You’re pregnant. It’s not a good idea.” Hannah stood back as John took the plate of eggs and biscuits away, disappearing into the guest room and closing the door behind him. Moments later, John emerged and went into the kitchen, pouring a large glass of water. He raced up the stairs, went into the guest room and returned to Hannah a couple of minutes later.

“How is he feeling today?” Hannah asked.

“Not the best, but he needs nourishment. Thank you for fixing the biscuits. He particularly likes those. That’s Mama Mary’s recipe, isn’t it?” he asked as he shined his shoe.

“Yes, it is,” Hannah answered blankly. “I have to take some dresses into the factory today. I know you’re going into work, but does he need someone to look after him while I’m gone?” Hannah inquired as she removed her apron from around her waist.

“I think you being gone for a short amount of time will be fine. I took some fruit up to his room earlier this morning. He still has quite a bit left should he get hungry. I’ll take up a pitcher of water so that he’s supplied for awhile. Luckily the lavatory is right next to his room which should alleviate any problems.” Hannah nodded in agreement as she looked around for her sewing basket. John slid his jacket on, placed his hat atop his head and kissed Hannah sweetly on her soft, succulent lips and Jonathan on his plump, rosy cheek.

* * *

CHAPTER 23

“But I don’t understand,” John said as he sat at in the tall, cherry wood chair across from the bed his father lay in later that evening.

“I think you do,” Master Stewart said breathlessly. The sound of Jonathan rolling marbles on the hardwood floor could be heard in the adjoining room. A low roar of water running came from the kitchen as Hannah washed the sink full of dishes, her hands working over the plates in almost a robotic fashion.

“So now you admit this to me?” John asked, his face covered in distress. “After all those years you vehemently denied it! How could you do this? How many are there?” John asked angrily.

“There were five, but only three are alive now – two daughters and a son,” Master Stewart said as he coughed into his napkin.

“I have two sisters and a brother that are living? They live less than two hours away! What disturbs me most is that you wouldn’t have uttered a word had you not been ill!”

“That’s probably true,” Master Stewart agreed.

“Who’s their mother?” John demanded.

“Two different women – one was named ‘Anne.’ She was my first slave. She bore me four of the children. The fifth one, Jonah, is still alive, and his mother was named ‘Frances.’ She was with me a very brief time. John, please try to understand. Things were handled differently then. It wasn’t uncommon for this to occur. I did take care of them. You and I are really no different,” Master Stewart explained.

“Have you gone mad? You can’t be serious, Father! I love Hannah. You didn’t love those women.” John crossed his arms over his heaving chest.

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I did and still do love Mary. I suppose that’s why I never touched her,” Master Stewart said weakly. “I did take care of my children though, John. I haven’t seen them since they were young, but I always sent money to them and gifts for their birthdays. Sarah’s birthday is June 16, Mary’s birthday is September 10, and Jonah’s birthday is March 30 – and your birthday is October 5,” Master Stewart recited proudly.