The Slave Master's Son (9 page)

Per your request, I’ll go home to Gayle. You’re forcing me to commit adultery, but I know in my heart it’s not my will but what I’m being forced to do. I ask our Lord and Savior for forgiveness. You’re breeding me like a slave. You see everyone, including your flesh and blood, as property. My love for Hannah isn’t a flash in the pan – it’s forever. You’re barking up the wrong tree if you believe I’ll let this rest and allow you to checkmate me. I’m smarter than you, I’m stronger than you, and I’m braver than you. You have to resort to cheap tricks in order to win with me. Next time, you’ll not be so lucky.”

“How dare you threaten me? I’m your father!” roared Master Stewart.

“You want to go to war – we can,” continued John. “Remember though, you’ve caused the pot to bubble and froth, and now what a mess you’ve made. I promise you’ll be on the losing end when this is all said and done. I won’t spare you – because you didn’t spare me.” John got up from his chair and walked away defiantly into the bright sunlight.

* * *

CHAPTER 9

Gayle sat contemplatively in front of the crackling, open fire, her attention divided between reading and deep thought. She looked up from her book, smiled weakly, and said, “Good day, John. My prayers are answered. I missed you so.” John closed the wide door behind him. He hung his favorite hat, walked towards Gayle, and sat down next to her, cupping his chin in the cradle of his large palm. Gayle immediately stood up, kneeled at his feet, and removed his heavy boots. She quietly massaged his feet with her petite hands, looking at them affectionately as she warmed them with her nimble fingers.

“John, I’m your wife. I want our marriage to be strong. What can I do to make you happy?” she asked, looking up at him pitifully with her sleepy hazel eyes. He looked at her momentarily, his thoughts drifting between anger and pity. He reached into his pocket, removed his pipe and matches, then lit it. He leaned back into the sofa, exhaling deeply, rubbing his fingers through his hair and surveying his facial stubble before speaking.

“Why did you tell your parents our personal matters, Gayle?” John asked aloofly. “No one needed to know about our relations. You caused me a great deal of problems. I told you how this marriage would transpire.” He looked down at her fiercely. Gayle felt a lump in her throat. She was rendered speechless. His eyes bore into her, terrifying her.

“Well?” John asked, blowing smoke into the air.

“There were scuttlebutts that you were – that you may have been getting your needs met elsewhere.” Gayle hung her head. “You’re my husband, not hers, John. Contrary to the terms and limitations of our martial contract, I do care for you and want to bear your children. I know all about – you and the slave girl.” Gayle’s placid face suddenly displayed a hate-filled expression.

“It’s none of your concern. You were forewarned but are jealous. You wanted me forced into being with you. I’ve been forthright with you from the beginning. Our fathers made an agreement that I shall wed you for the sake and posterity of our family unit. I begrudgingly agreed in order to assist my father in this venture as well as give you my last name. I made it clear that I didn’t feel anything towards you in the matter of love, but that I did find you to be a delightful young lady. The agreement was that any regard in the vein of producing children was surely highly unlikely. I wanted you to know this immediately. I understand a woman’s desire to conceive children and since you’d be robbed of that for what was perceived a greater good, I felt your compliance was absolute. Instead you’ve broken our private verbal contract and created tension. You’ve affected my life, and that of others, in ways you shall never comprehend. You’re not privy to all of the details, but I’m certain your woman’s intuition has led you down the correct path upon your latest confession.” Gayle looked up as John nodded.

“I did all that you accuse. It’s because I’ve fallen in love with you. I can’t apologize for that, though I’m deeply sorrowful about any pain or discomfort you may have encountered due to the revelations I disclosed.”

“Gayle, after I married you, I was under the premise that I’d be left alone and could live my life as I saw fit. I’ve spent the last three nights locked up in a dark, malodorous room that receives no clean air in my father’s home. He kept me there until he completed his sullied effort. As your suspicions alerted you, I’ve been locked away in order to stay away from another woman. I can’t change whom I desire. It’s not a personal reflection upon your beauty, intelligence, or wifely abilities. If you don’t find me reprehensible after these declarations, you surely will after my next confession. I’ve been doing exactly what you fear. I make no apologies. You told my father this evening that I haven’t been with you in the evening hours. I suppose you also want the torture of knowing my whereabouts? Well he found me thanks to you and your parents. You may feel she isn’t good enough for me, but, in fact, she’s too good. I’m the one that’s fortunate. I love her. I don’t love you, Gayle.”

Gayle stopped massaging John’s feet and ankles and rested her hands in her lap. She looked down, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. John puffed on his pipe and continued.

“I’m sure that doesn’t matter to you because it’s quite apparent that, like me, you’ve made up your mind as to which direction you wish to go. Nothing you do or say will change the course of events to come. After what I endured in the war, nothing scares me anymore. Some would label me a fool. I laugh in the face of challenge and adversity. Now that you’ve helped remove the woman that threatened your status, you feel you’re entitled to her spot. Nothing could be further from the truth.” John blew out rings of smoke.

“Due to the recent events, I have no idea how long it will take to reverse the damage. You and my father will have your desires met for a short while then when the opportunity arises, I’ll continue along my charted path. You won’t be included nor will you be in my thoughts or concerns. You’ve double-crossed me, so consider yourself closed off from further communication regarding this matter.” Gayle cried quietly into her hands.

“I’m a virtuous woman, John,” she finally spoke. “Your – slave girl is gone. I was assured! It’s time you accept what you have in front of you and stop looking back. She’s not returning. It’s just you and me now.” She stood up with her arms open, trying to mask her obvious rage. John turned away from her before slowly standing up and retreating to their bedroom. Gayle followed behind.

“After awhile, you’ll see that this is best, and I have full faith that you’ll reciprocate.” John dismissed her with a wave of his hand before sitting on the edge of their bed.

“I hate her!” Gayle screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice trembling. Her hands were balled up tightly as more tears flowed. John stood back up. He looked deep into Gayle’s eyes. They stood staring at one another as the flicker of the lantern illuminated the cedar-planked bedroom.

“I wish she were dead,” she continued before closing the door and leaving him to his thoughts. John laid in the bed and drifted off to sleep. He had nightmares of Hannah being dragged away followed by dreams of their wedding-night lovemaking. He smiled to himself, tears rolling down his cheeks as their evening at the river rolled out scene by scene in his subconscious.

* * *

CHAPTER 10

“It’s Henry,” the man corrected. “My name’s Henry.” Henry stood lofty and strapping. His rich, velvety, midnight complexion was marred only by the occasional blemish from a fist fight or punishment from Master Washington.

“I don’t too much care what your name is,” Hannah answered as she prepared her spinning wheel in the one-room, diminutive house. Henry bent towards the ground as he entered the cabin. The ceilings hung low. There was a table covered with needles and thread.

“Don’t come down here with a bunch of high-and-mighty ways. You ain’t no better than the rest of us. Now, I’m sorry that you’re upset and all, but I ain’t responsible for that there,” Henry explained as he rubbed his short, cropped hair. Hannah sat down at her spinning wheel and looked over the colors of thread she had before her.

“What are you doin’?” Henry asked as he sat down in a chair beside her. Hannah looked him up and down.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” she grimaced.

“Well, seein’ as how I lives here too, I think I should. I was told this my place to now.” Hannah grunted, shifted her weight, and tended to her wheel once more.

“You sew?” Henry interrupted once more.

“It’d appear that way, now wouldn’t it?” Hannah snapped, avoiding eye contact.

“You sure got a sassy mouth. They said you was a sneaky one, but no one said you got a snake for a tongue,” Henry teased. Hannah smirked as she pulled a few feet of white thread from the spool.

“There’s a smile,” Henry laughed. “Hannah, I’m pleased to meet you.” He stuck out his massive hand. Hannah looked down at Henry’s palm. It was rough, calloused, and twice the size of hers. She shook his hand weakly.

“I s’pose they expect us to make babies,” Hannah said angrily.

“It looks that way. ’Tween you and me. I ain’t happy ‘bout this nether. There’s a girl I want to marry, but Master Washington won’t let me. Don’t get me wrong, you’re prettier than a flower, but this just ain’t right.” Henry looked down into his hands, his large, dark expressive eyes glossing over.

“I know it’s not, but we ain’t people, Henry, we’re chattels. I’m a married woman, but I’ll probably never see my husband again,” Hannah said grimly.

“So you understand?” Henry asked as he stood up.

“Yes.” Hannah looked at him stretching. She took notice of the thread-bareness of his shirt and his prominent rib cage.

“Henry,” Hannah sighed. “Let me fix your shirt and fix you some beans.” She slowly stood up from the spinning wheel and walked over to the small stove with a boiling pot. Inside the oven was a thick cake of cornbread. Henry slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Hannah watched modestly, blushing. His chiseled chest contorted as he slid the shirt the rest of the way off, exposing well defined muscles that shined like apples. His full lips, slightly dry, looked like two deep red pillows. The whites of his eyes were startling, their beauty only surpassed by the starlit sky. Long, thick eyelashes accentuated the stunning, yet troubled set of windows to his soul. He sat down on the bed while Hannah stirred the beans. She handed him a large bowl with a spoon.

“The cornbread will be ready soon, but you can start on this now.” She sat back down at her spinning wheel and worked expeditiously on his ripped shirt. A few minutes later, she handed it to him while pulling out the piping hot, buttery bread.

“My eyes are playin’ tricks on me. I can’t find the holes no more, Hannah. I ain’t never seen a patch-up job like this. Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his spoon and dipped into the brown soupy gravy that accompanied the pinto beans. Slices of green pepper swam through it. Hannah raced over and opened her palm into his bowl, letting thinly sliced onions fall.

“Thank you, kindly. This is good,” he added between hungry slurps. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” Hannah said solemnly. Over the last few days, Hannah had begrudgingly adjusted to her new surroundings. She’d anticipated hating whomever she was paired with. She’d already been told that someone was coming, and she wouldn’t be alone. She was prepared to find him repulsive, especially since she was a married woman. Something about Henry was different, however. She could feel the kindness and sincerity seep through his soul. She knew he wished her no harm, and that was comforting. She fixed herself a bowl of beans then cut the cornbread into large squares. She wrapped two up and walked over to the bed, sitting beside Henry. Handing him a piece, their hands briefly touched. They ate silently, their individual thoughts dancing in different directions. Afterwards, Hannah meticulously cleaned up. It helped her not think of John. Meanwhile, Henry laid back in the bed, his eyes lazy and tired. He began to drift off to sleep when he suddenly heard Hannah shuffling. He looked up and saw that her back was towards him in the corner. She stood by the lantern, flipping page after page in a large book, diligently trying to find where she’d left off.

“What you doin’?” Henry barked. Hannah immediately closed the book closed.

“Nothin’. Go on back to sleep,” she spat.

“I ain’t sleepy.” Henry rose slowly, his large bare feet touching the dirt floor. “You readin’, ain’t you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Hannah did not respond. Instead, she poured herself a glass of warm water and sat down at the spinning wheel. Henry walked over and snatched the book out of her lap.

“Give that back to me!” she shouted.

“You’re feisty! Funny thing is, you really think you can get me!” Henry laughed. He watched as Hannah ran around him as if she was a child trying to get an apple from an out-of-reach branch. Henry waved the book in the air, laughing rowdily.