The Slave Master's Son (36 page)

“I took one look at her and was smitten,” Graham stated as he looked up at John with a glimmer in his eye. “She looked like an angel drifting in there. I could barely concentrate on my work,” Graham grinned.

“He pursued me and how could I resist such a charming, handsome and kind man? Six months later we were married,” Sarah continued.

“I’m originally from New York,” Graham stated as he cut a slither of chicken. “My father’s family was here, from New Jersey. My parents eventually both returned here due to a business venture at the time that proved to be lucrative however New Jersey, as of late, has highs and lows, great fluctuations of income. It’s unstable at best. I traveled back and forth to New York for business and eventually planted roots here again as an adult. My father was a learned man who was able to open a bank here and, despite the financial woes, it’s managed to survive with the assistance of myself and my two brothers,” Graham stated.

“Well coincidentally, Graham, I too worked in the banking system for a short period of time in Manhattan,” John declared as he took another sip of his iced tea. “I was a manager. However, my training and passion is with law. I’m a lawyer and very proud of my work, though at times it can be tedious and unfair.” Graham looked up with great interest.

“I’m glad that you then have a respect for the banking industry. Manhattan has some of the best banks in the country. Which one were you at?” inquired Graham.

“The Bank of Manhattan,” replied John. Graham smiled widely.

“Figures – I couldn’t get in there to save my life. That’s an excellent bank.”

“Why were you there for only a short time?” Graham inquired. John swallowed deeply, smiled and took a long gulp of his tea until the glass was dry. He sat in his seat twitching ever so slightly. It was the long awaited gateway to a question that would lead to more questions and more than likely, disapproving reactions. John tapped the sides of his mouth with his linen napkin and smiled.

“Well, Mr. Hawthorne, no sense in me beating around the bush. This was going to have to be discussed sooner or later,” John sighed. Sarah perked up. She stopped cutting her chicken and looked at John intensely while Graham leaned back slowly in his chair. Mary finally made eye contact as she continued to chew on the side of her roll.

“I had run into a bit of legal trouble,” John continued. “It appears that being charged with miscegenation isn’t good for an attorney’s career. I was reprimanded, paid a fine, and put on vocational probation. During that time of vocational probation, I had friends at the bank who allowed me to bring in income in order to support my family. I did have a new respect for the industry after my stint there,” John explained. Sarah smiled wickedly then cackled. She threw her napkin onto the table as her head lulled back and forth.

“Oh my!” she managed to utter between hysteric gasps. “Master Stewart’s son has taken his father’s same path! I s’pose the love for dark meat’s hereditary!” she spat angrily, rising up from her chair.

“Sarah!” Graham warned. “Would you please let John, your brother, continue his story! Don’t judge him yet.”

“What’s miscegenation?” questioned Mary with a deeply confused look on her face.

“He’s bopping a negro, Mary!” Sarah hollered.

“Sarah.” Graham covered his face with his hand and shook his head in disbelief. John smirked and placed his napkin gingerly back onto his lap. “Sarah, since you have all the answers and assume I’m just like our father, why even inquire? Your anger towards Master Stewart and his abandonment of you, Mary, Jonah and your mothers is being thrust in my direction. I can take that. I can accept that and actually expected it, however I won’t accept you making false statements regarding my character and intentions. You don’t have all the facts and I’m not certain you even care to have them. You have ideas in your mind that you wish to hold tightly onto and anything that deviates from that image would more than likely make you feel out of sorts and bewildered. In your mind, you’ve created personalities for everyone that you don’t know, regarding your father. You assigned a personality to me and I’m not fitting the bill and instead of hearing what I have to say, you jump on the first tidbit that sounds fitting to your scenario and have an outburst.

“You don’t know me. I don’t know you. He’s both of our fathers. His blood runs through both of our veins, whether we appreciate the fact or not. You’re just as much capable of being like him as I am due to that fact. He’s callous and hard headed. From the looks of things, you also fit that bill. I’m not bopping a Negro, as you so eloquently put it. She’s my best friend and my wife. We have a family together. I didn’t impregnate her then abandon her. We were married before any bopping took place! We live as a family, and for all intents and purposes, people now turn a blind eye. We grew up together. She was your friend too” John uttered. “May I have some more iced tea, please?” he asked as he studied Sarah’s face, trying to maintain his composure.

“Yes.” Mary rose from her seat and took the pitcher into the kitchen to be refilled. Sarah slowly sat back down into her chair.

“Who is she?” she asked, bite still in her tone.

“Hannah.” John looked Sarah deeply into her eyes, not breaking his gaze. Sarah sat silently and mulled over the information in her mind before responding.

“I remember Hannah. She was Mary’s girl,” Sarah said humbly. “She was a nice girl. She’d sneak me and my other brothers and sisters sweet treats and we’d play together. I’d see you and her playing outside the big house sometimes,” Sarah reminisced. Mary returned with a refilled pitched and set it down in front of John before quickly taking her seat.

“Yes, well, we were children then, but I loved her even at that point. I just couldn’t articulate it. Regardless, Hannah and I’ve been through quite a bit trying to remain together, more than you will ever know and that I wish to relive, so please don’t trivialize this relationship into purely carnal or twist it into a sordid perversion. I’m nothing like my father as it pertains to this topic and I resent the accusation.” Sarah looked away.

“I apologize,” she said halfheartedly.

“Apology accepted.” John quickly moved along. “So, Graham, that’s how I came to be in the banking industry.” He poured himself a fresh glass of iced tea. Graham nodded and clapped his hands together.

“I like you, John,” he said, smiling while trying to cloak a piece of chicken in his mouth between chews. “I’m a good judge of character, and I’m glad that you came by despite the purpose of the visit. I believe Sarah and Mary needed this, regardless of their choice at the end of their deliberation. I hope that in spite of what’s decided, you stay a part of their lives,” Graham said in a fatherly tone.

“I will if they will allow that,” John answered, looking directly at Sarah who was now trying to read his deepest thoughts with her haunting dark eyes.

“Well, is anyone ready for dessert?” Sarah smiled, quickly changing the subject. “It’s apple cobbler.”

“Oh, my favorite!” Graham responded as he patted his now slightly protruding stomach.

“I know, I made it just for you!” Sarah smiled affectionately at her husband.

“You know what, Honey,” Graham asked, “let Mary and me get it.” Graham ushered to Mary by cocking his head to the side. Mary followed his cue and went into the kitchen. Sarah held her fingertips together and looked across the table at John. Neither of them said a word as they stared at one another.

“You’re like him,” John finally said.

“How so?” Sarah asked with obvious annoyance.

“I don’t mean it in a negative way,” John soothed. “You’re a very determined person and hide your emotions well,” he clarified.

“I see,” Sarah responded. “Obviously not well enough – he’s still a sore spot for me, after all of these years. You’d think I would’ve been over it by now,” Sarah shrugged.

“I don’t think anyone gets over abandonment, Sarah. They just live through it.” John ate the last string bean on his plate.

“Did he ever talk about me or my Mama?” Sarah asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’d be doing you a deceptive disservice in the interest of mending your breaking heart if I said ‘yes,’” John answered, looking down at his plate. A single tear ran down Sarah’s cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

“I figured as much. The only time we saw him was in the middle of the night,” Sarah reflected. “He’d come into our little house and play with us for a few minutes. He’d then have us go outside. Now, I know what that was for.” Sarah sucked her teeth in disgust.

“He’d bring my mother clothing for us – shoes, toys. At the time we thought he was great. We didn’t know no better. I remember being jealous of you though in that big house. He let his white child be in the big house, but we had to stay over a mile away. When it’d rain, the rain would sometimes leak onto our beds. It’d get so cold in there sometimes we could hear all of our teeth chattering. Right after Mama would have one baby, he’d be right back. I wondered what he was doing in the big house when he wasn’t at ours. We’d play near there sometimes even though Mama told us not to. We’d look in the window and see that big, dining room table with the fine silverware and big dinners and all the slaves hurrying back and forth trying to get everything perfect for Master Stewart!” Sarah dropped her head and sobbed. “He demanded perfection even though Mama and his kids couldn’t get warm. Hannah would wave to me and come to the window. She’d say, ‘Sarah, wait out over yonder. I’m going to bring you some cake.’ I’d smile and nod and run over by the tree she’d want me to stand by. She’d come outside with a big heaping chunk of yellow cake with all of this sweet icing and fruit pouring down it. It was enough to feed twelve children. She and I’d sit there by that tree and talk and play. Sometimes she’d make clothes for my dolls. She made some of the prettiest little dresses.” Sarah drifted off in thought while John patiently listened.

“I soon became jealous of Hannah, too, and we had a fallin’ out. I don’t even remember what I said – adolescent stuff – but it was mean. I just wanted to be next to my daddy, and she got to see him all day, every day, and she wasn’t even no kin to him. Hannah got all those pretty dresses and hair bows. I wore hand me downs. Mary even got her own room. Hannah would get special treatment. I used to wish she’d be sold off. That’s just awful, I know. I was just resentful, John. I had the type of hatred for your wife that’s only befitting the devil. But, at the same time, I really loved her because she was good to me. Hannah just wanted some friends. Mary kept her so close. Hannah liked playing dolls with another girl and she always seemed delighted when she’d give me something, she was happier than I was about it usually. All of that didn’t stop me from wantin’ what she had, what I felt was rightfully mine.” Sarah looked up at John, her eyes pink and puffy. John slowly reached across the table and held Sarah’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re with Hannah, John. If she’s anything like she was as a little girl, you did well.” Sarah slowly slid her hand away and patted her face dry. Graham and Mary re-entered the room after the conversation had ended. Her stately husband, with his silken dark skin and patient demeanor, leaned down and kissed the top of his wife’s head slowly and lovingly as she closed her eyes and cried silently into her clasped hands. Mary put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder, looking over at John. The three of them stood as a tight unit, observing each other and the new guest. John felt the sudden acceptance into their world with the nonverbal cues being tossed his way. He understood that, with that granted trust, would come great responsibility.

* * *

CHAPTER 25

“Rise and shine!” Mary screamed as she rang a tiny bell outside of John’s room.

“John, I’ve arranged for you to meet our brother this morning. I think it best that you see him on your own initially. A coach will be waiting for you outside of our home in thirty minutes,” Sarah screeched from the bottom of the steps as she motioned for Mary to come down and retrieve a plate of biscuits for him to eat before his departure. John yawned stiffly, quickly rising from the comfortable, albeit petite, bed. He walked over to the basin and started to shave. The scent of the warm, fluffy biscuits soon crept into the orifices of the room, making their near presence known.

“John,” Mary said cautiously. “I’m setting a plate of biscuits and jam outside of this door.”

“Thank you, Mary,” John said as he continued to shave from behind the closed door.

“You’re welcome.” Mary disappeared down the steps. John dried his face and dressed for the day.

“I wonder what type of man Jonah is?” John asked himself contemplatively. John couldn’t recall Jonah’s mother from his memory banks. This caused him discomfort for the pending conversation to come. He opened the door and took in the sight of the fluffy buttery biscuits. Picking up the plate delicately, he dipped the cooked dough into the small puddle of homemade strawberry jam. The biscuit melted in his mouth. Stuffing another one in, he finished swallowing and made his way down the steps.

“May I have a glass of water?” John asked as he swung his briefcase in front of himself. Laura was standing in the dining room setting the table.