BIRTH
A First Blood Novel
By Krystell Lake
Smashwords Edition
Published by Krystell Lake on Smashwords
Copyright © 2012 by Krystell Lake
Cover Image by Fotolia
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedications
This is novel is dedicated to Brooklyn Baye and Braven Trae as well as the ones who are no longer here. You will live immortal in the characters of this book.
Acknowledgments
I would like to give a special thanks to my sister Tracy Washington.
CHAPTER 1
The birth of my new life begins in the year 1862. I am in the middle of my fifteenth year. My Mama waits in the horse drawn wagon. She sits behind our former owner, Master McKinley. The Master’s daughter, my dear friend Miss Polly holds my frigid hands tightly. We both have more than enough tears in our eyes. In this world, where I am not free, my free hand clasps a hole ridden sack full of my belongings.
“You girls say your good-byes. We got to get along now.” Master McKinley belts.
“Pa, she’s coming.” Miss Polly pleads. “Em, you are truly my best friend. I will miss you ever so much.”
I believe that she will miss me, as I will miss her.
“Emerald, you come along now.” Mama calls out to me from the wagon.
“Bye Miss Polly.” The tears break through and take over. I embrace Miss Polly and stammer down the stairs and into the wagon.
“I will visit. I promise.” Miss Polly burst into tears and vanishes into the house, her long blonde locks trailing behind her. I turn to look back as we ride further and further away from Master McKinley’s house. Away from the only life I have ever known.
I will long for Miss Polly. She is just a year older than I and she is so graciously kind to me. I am closer to her than her much younger flesh and blood sister Anna. Miss Polly and I are like sisters. That is if it is possible for a slave to have a white sister. She taught me to read and write, and to play the harpsichord. She once told me that I know everything she knows. If you let her tell it she is the smartest girl North Carolina ever bred. Mostly I will miss lying in bed together reading books and talking about all the places we wish to someday visit.
Today I start my new life somewhere unknown. I am terrified. It must be the hottest day North Carolina has ever known. There is no wind, no breeze and no flow in the leaves of the trees. I long to snatch this head scarf off but my Mama would not think it proper. At least my hair is tied back and off my neck. I had a hard time pushing my long curly locks under the tattered scarf.
I wish my heart would stop beating fiercely under my chest. I am afraid of what lies ahead. I cried for days when I learned that my Mama and I would be sold off to the Adams plantation. I don’t know a thing about these Adams folks. Are they good white folks or bad white folks? I’ve lived back at the McKinley farm my whole life. My Mama gave birth to me right out behind the house in a small wood cabin. The McKinley’s were fairly decent folks. I heard plenty stories about slaves having dreadful Masters that beat them and whip them for breakfast and supper. Master McKinley was as fair as they come when you compare him to other white folks. It’s too bad for us that he lost his farm to the bank, all his assets, and his slaves.
There has been a lot of talk going about the Republican President Abraham Lincoln doing away with slavery altogether here in the South. When and if that day comes, it won’t be soon enough for me.
I pray the knots in my stomach would go away. All I know about the Adams’ is that they’re in the business of growing cotton. I hear that they own more than forty slaves. There’s a Master, a Misses and they have two sons.
This bumpy road to the Adams plantation doesn’t help the churn in my belly one bit. I wish I could be like my Mama. If she is frightened you sure can’t tell it by the look on her face. I love to look at my Mama. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She is brown, the color of dark wood. Her skin is so smooth and there is not a wrinkle anywhere in sight. Her eyes are shiny and black. Her cheeks are full and round. It looks like she’s smiling sometimes even when she is not. I don’t know why god cursed me with this face. My Mama tells me I am beautiful. I don’t believe her. She named me Emerald because when Mrs. McKinley laid eyes on me she said my eyes are the color of emeralds. My Mama had never seen an emerald. Mrs. McKinley laughed and told her emeralds are green. Surely Mrs. McKinley was very pleased when Mama chose the name Emerald.
People stare at me. Ever since I can remember people stare at me, white folks and Negros. It makes me fidgety. It makes me nervous. It makes me want to jump inside myself and hide. I’m too bright. I’m just a few shades off of white folks. That is thanks to the white man that forced himself on my Mama. That’s the thing with these white Masters. They’ll have a perfectly good Misses at home but they always sniffing around the slave quarters. They have never touched me. My Mama keeps me close to her. She guards me like an overseer guards the slaves. I don’t ever want to imagine one of them white men touching me. Surely then I would crawl inside myself and die.
Mama reaches over and grabs hold of my hand. Her hands are cold even though it’s hot summer day. I look over at her. I force myself to smile. Maybe she is afraid also. I never thought she would be. She always seems so incredibly strong.
There was little to behold on the dusty road. The summer grass was green yet the trees were scarce. Until, in front of us an object, flying. No, my eyes have deceived me. It was an object hanging from a tree. We crept closer in the wagon. It was not an object. There before me, off to the left of the dusty road hung a man, a Negro man. My stomach had felt dreadful moments before, not one thing could compare to how it felt at this particular instant. I wanted to rid my stomach of the light breakfast I had hours earlier. I wanted to desperately turn away. Hide my eyes from this evil. I could not. Something held my eyes wide open. The Negro man, maybe a boy, I couldn’t decipher how long he had lived in this cruel world. He was dead and hanging with a noose around his neck from an old tatty tree.
Master McKinley stopped the wagon just a short distance from the brutality. Why? There was blood on the Negro’s trousers. There were gaping wounds on his shirtless body. The Negro’s eyes bulged from their sockets. His hands were bound behind him. I could not see with what. I had seen enough. Mama squeezed my hand and held it firmly. The silence was deafening. What has he done to deserve such a monstrous admission into heaven? It did not matter. He was now free and that was more than us Negros in the South could dream. Master McKinley finally got the horse moving. We rode away without a word, a sigh or a turn to see if it was truly what our eyes perceived it to be. Master would have to see this gruesome sight upon his return. I was glad my eyes would be spared of the horror a second time.
The journey is a long tedious one but in due time we arrive. When we get close to the Adams’ land, I can see it stretches far and wide. The cotton fields go on forever. Mama glances over at me. I’m sure she’s thinking what I’m thinking. We are in for more than we expected. Maybe she isn’t. I can never tell what she’s thinking. She holds her feelings deep inside.
Master McKinley pulls up in front of the beautiful, big, white house. There is a plethora of various flowers all in full bloom in the flower garden. I think of these flowers and try to prevent thoughts of the dead Negro man from keeping space in my brain. There is a dark robust Negro woman tending to the delightful red rose bushes.
I hope we can live in the house and not in the slave quarters. Even though I don’t like or trust most white folks, I feel most uncomfortable with a lot of Negros around. They call me names and I prefer to be called a nigger by whites then to be called white gal, whitey or pale face by Negros. Once Master McKinley’s cousin from one of the Virginia’s came to visit and he called me a nigger wench. That was horrible for me. If looks could kill, he would be deader than a runaway slave. If only I could hang him from a tree.
Master McKinley stopped the horse on the dusty path in front of the house. “Lottie Belle, Emerald. This here is your new home. They are expecting you.” Our old Master sounded wounded.
The massive front door to the big house opened and a young white lady glided out and down the porch steps toward us. She was petite and her eyes were the bluest blue and her hair the color of the sun. We all sat in the wagon as she approached. The dark Negro lady in the garden looked up for a brief moment and then went back to fooling with those delightful red roses.
“Mr. McKinley you just missed my husband. He took a trip into town.” She sings.
Her voice sounded like a song, like musical notes. Her voice was so sweet she must be evil. Her smile was so warm and inviting she must be the devil. She turned to Mama and me.
“You must be Lottie Belle and this is your daughter Emerald.”
“Yessum mam,” now it was Mama who forced a smile.
“Delightful, well now, gather up your things and hurry along. I’m sure Mr. McKinley wants to arrive back before sundown.” She bowed to my old Master.
This white lady used my word, delightful. The same word I used when I saw the rose garden. I did not have ownership of the word. It felt as if she stole it right out of my mouth. I do not like her, not one bit. She’s a word thief. Mama and I fetched the sacks full of our belongings and hopped out the wagon.
Master McKinley did not even glance in our direction. “Good day Mrs. Adams.” He tipped his hat to the flaxen haired devil.
“Good day,” She gave him a brief wave and guided her blue eyes to us. Master McKinley rode off without even a quick glance back. What strange behavior. He did not give his loyal slaves of fifteen years a goodbye or a good day.
“Follow me.” The word thief sang.
Mama and I followed Mrs. Adams up the front porch steps and into the big house. The house was much grander in the inside than the outside, if that was at all possible. It was the cleanest house I’d ever been in and it smelled like freshly cut flowers. Mrs. Adams turned to Mama; she barely paid any nevermind to me. That was peculiar. Most white woman glare at me with disgust. I am that constant reminder of their husbands’ adulterous behavior.
“Lottie Belle, I don’t know if Mr. McKinley told you what your duties would be here but I hear tell you’re an excellent cook. So you and Emerald will be in charge of all the cooking and cleaning in my house. My cook had been sold to another plantation. She met a Negro driver and wanted to marry. So I agreed and let her marry. I hated losing such a good cook but she had never been married and had no children of her own. I figured it was the right and most decent Christian thing to do.”
“Yessum mam,” Mama nodded.
A deep voice descended from up the stairs, “My exquisite mother, full of decency.” A young white man galloped down the stairs. He was very tall. He had hair the color of the sun but not as sunny as Mrs. Adams. “Too shay, we have new slaves.” He said drearily.
That was not at all the welcome that we should have received. It’s not as if I wanted to come to this massive plantation. I was fairly content at old Master McKinley’s.
Mrs. Adams smiled. “Yes this is Lottie Belle and her Emerald.”
“Welcome Lottie Belle and her Emerald.” He smiled as he talked.
“This is my delightful son Master John.” John kissed his mother on the cheek. “Mother I’m off to the fields. I will return shortly.”
Master John sneaks a peek at me as he leaves the room. It was neither a glare nor a frown. It was something different. It was sly and clever. He concealed it from our mothers. Maybe I did not see it properly. I am exhausted from the long trip. I could have misread the look he intended for my eyes only.
Mrs. Adams turned to us. “I’ll show you to your living quarters. Follow me.” Mama and I lagged closely behind Mrs. Adams. We entered the kitchen and stopped in a small room adjacent to the kitchen. The room had two beds, a chest of drawers, a small round table with two chairs, and a lantern.
“I’ll let you two get settled in. You can put your things away and you might want to go out to slave row and acquaint yourselves with the other Negros. You need to meet Bessie. She is our gardener. She has magic hands. She is somewhat of a witch doctor.” Mrs. Adams giggled. “She plants all our food. Since you’re the cook, you just tell ole Bessie what you want and she’ll plant it for you. Settle in and I will be back shortly with dinner instructions.”
Mrs. Adams left us be. I wondered if Bessie was that big woman in the garden. What did Mrs. Adams mean by witch doctor? Her eyes brightened when she said it. Could her eyes be any brighter, any bluer?
Mama and I unpacked our belongings and tucked them into the chest of drawers. Two of the drawers remained empty. We walked out the kitchen back door, down the porch steps and out to the rear of the house where slave row sat on the tail end of a dusty road. My Mama walked a few paces in front of me. That heavy Negro woman from the garden was waiting for my Mama.
“I is Bessie. You must be Lottie Belle.”
“Yessum and ‘dis here is my gal Emerald.” Mama gave Bessie a nervous grin.
“Emerald, huh, she sho’ is bright. She gont be the brightest slave ‘des Negros done ever seen ‘round here. Reckon I ‘aint gotta asks you how she got that way.” Bessie said with a hearty laugh.
We all walked down the dirt road. There wasn’t too many Negros around. They were all out in the cotton fields, slaving. Bessie walked us around and showed us things that would be important for us to know. Bessie also told a few tales about the slaves. Who jumped the broom with whom, how many children they had and other slave business? A young tall, dark, Negro boy of about my age or older walked forth.
“Bessie who ‘dis be?” He asked her. I noticed the beads of sweat running down his black neck.
“Dis here is Lottie Belle and her Emerald. Massa just bought ‘em. They gont live up at the house. Dey the new cooks.”
“You say Lottie Belle and Emerald.” He repeated. “Well, I be Cutter. If in y’all need some help wit’ something just give me a holla. I’m pretty good at fixin’ thangs.” Cutter sneaked a peek at me, just as Master John had earlier.
“Thank you, dat’s very nice. We surely will call on ya if need be.” Mama overdid the niceties.
Cutter smiled wide. “Bye now,” Cutter ran off to the fields. He was fast and soon disappeared in the clouds of cotton.
“That Cutter is a real nice boy, he here all by his lonesome, no mammie or pappy.” Bessie explained.
“No kin folks at all?” Mama asked.
“Mrs. Adams was in town one day and seen ‘em on the auction block when he was five year old. She felt sorry fo’ ‘em. She told Massa to buy ‘em and he did. Cutter, he a really handsome boy, very strong. He ain't got no wife.” Bessie looked at me and then at Mama.
Mama smiled at Bessie. They had a secret. That was no secret at all. I’m not some dumb mule. I can see what they were thinking and I wasn’t thinking it. Bessie told more tells about the slaves and the Adams’ as we walked back to the big house.
When we reached the back porch that lead to the kitchen, Master John rode up on a black horse. He was wet, no he was sweaty. It is uncomfortably hot. The top three buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned. The shirt was so damp it stuck to his body. I watched him too closely. I felt ashamed. I was compelled to inspect the young Master John. My stomach felt strange. Now I felt a wave of heat over my body. As I walked up the porch steps a few feet behind Mama and Bessie, I noticed Master John jump down off his horse. His sky blue eyes met mine. I quickly turned away. I had to look back at him one last time. He tied his horse to the wood fence and then his eyes met mine again. This time it lasted much longer. He froze in his tracks and watched me enter the kitchen. His blue eyes never blinked. How did he do this? I was amazed. I am so glad Mama didn’t catch wind of my eyeballs. I would be in a whole heap of trouble.
CHAPTER 2
It was not hard adjusting to life on the Adams plantation. It was easier than I thought. Mrs. Adams was a decent white woman. She was not the vile word thief I marked her to be when I first arrived. She treated her slaves well. There would be no uprising here on this plantation. These Negros never even spoke about being free. Mrs. Adams’ husband, the elder Master John was rarely around. He was a cotton trading businessman and he would come and go. I figure he was doing his business. The slaves welcomed us. Well they welcomed Mama and mostly just steered clear of me. Master John’s other son William was off fighting in the Confederate army so I never laid eyes on him. The young Master John, I barely could catch a glance of him. He went about without giving me a second glance. So I made sure I did the same. It had been weeks since he glared at me and I guess now I was not worth a second look.
Lunchtime was over and I had some time before I had to help Mama prepare dinner. I took a stroll out to the beautiful apple tree on the edge of the plantation. I loved it out by the tree. It was secluded and peaceful. I placed my blanket down on the ground and sat under the tree. I leaned against the tree and closed my eyes. The time passed. I took at moment and rested my eyes.
As my eyes opened, I looked up and there stood Master John. I blinked to ensure I was truly awake. He was impeding the sunlight and the sun glowed creating a princely outer halo behind him.
He smiled with his lips pressed together. “Emerald, may I join you?”
He remembers my name. Now he is talking to me. “Yes Massa.”
He continued to grin. Why is he smiling? Is there something funny? The young Master sat down on the edge of my blanket. “What are you doing out here?” He quietly asked.
“I was just…thinking.” I couldn’t think of anything else. I hoped my answer was adequate.
“Hum, what about?” He asked.
“About wheres I come from.”
“You mean the McKinley place?” He lifted one eyebrow.
“Yes Massa,” I couldn’t help but look him in the eyes.
“What is it that you were thinking?”
“I miss, Miss Polly, my old Massa’s daughter. She was my friend. She was real nice to me.”
Master John pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Am I not nice to you?” He looked down and fiddled with the frayed edge of the blanket.
You ignore me, I thought, but not dare speak it. “I don’t -”
“Don’t answer that.” John focused on my eyes. “I see you Emerald, though I act as if I do not. You in turn act as if you did not see me. You would not even feast your sparkling green eyes on me. I prefer that you show me a modest amount of attention. I see you smile at others and I am, jealous. I want a smile from you as well. Can I have one of your smiles? One I can call my own.”
I swallowed hard. I had to think before I could speak. “A smile?” I only had two words.
“Yes.” He confirmed.
“Is that all you want of me?” I could not believe I said it. It was too late the words had poured from my lips.
Master John’s cheeks glowed, bright red. He smiled so widely it made me smile. He laughed and I giggled.
Master John pressed his lips together. “Is that all I want? Huh, you have made me smile.” He looked away and back to me. “I don’t want to talk about what I want. I have to save that for another time. I can be your friend as Miss Polly once was. Will you take my offer of friendship?”
“Yes Massa.”
“I cannot do your hair or whatever girls do as friends, but maybe we can do other things.”
“Yessum, I would like that.” I tried desperately to keep my teeth in my mouth.
His eyes quickly darted around my body. When our eyes met, he looked boyishly embarrassed. I focused in on his lips. I had this urge to touch them. It took much restraint.
“Emerald, how old are you?”
“I, fifteen,” almost sixteen, I thought. “And you Massa, how old?” I couldn’t help smiling.
“Sixteen.” He looked into my eyes and his smile turned serious. His face filled with worry, distress or maybe guilt. “I thought that I knew myself better. I don’t know half the things I thought. Sitting here, talking with you was nice, too nice. I want to be your friend. I just want to understand things that I do not understand. I have never been so confused.”
“Massa I, is confused. I never felt so, so --”
“Shhh, don’t say it. Let’s just sit here, quietly. Let us bask the sun for a while.” John moved from in front of me and took a seat next to me. He leaned on the tree trunk. Our shoulders touched and we both sat still and quiet with our eyes shut.
I fell asleep. When I woke Master John was gone. I gathered my blanket and skipped back to the house. I felt happy that John offered his friendship to me. I could not understand why I was drawn to Master John. He was white folks and my feelings were forbidden but that did not stop me from feeling them. It hurt when he ignored me and now that he sat with me it was as if I had never hurt at all. There was something about him that I could not put into words. He was beautiful to me. He was like no other man I ever met, white or Negro.
When I arrived at the back door of the big house I entered the kitchen. Mama was preparing dinner. She stopped mixing and stared at me the way only she could.
“Where you be Missy Em?” Mama placed her hands on her hips.
“I fell asleep out in the sun.” That was a part of the truth.
“What you tryin’ to do, get dark?” Mama curled her lips.
“No mam, I was little when I did that. I know I ain’t ‘bout to get no darker.”
“I’m fixin’ to say. You fine da way you is… Gal, why you got that silly flower in yo’ hair?”
What flower? I ran from the kitchen to our room and looked in the mirror. Master John had placed a yellow dandelion in my hair. My entire body smiled.
Every day from that point on, John would sneak and meet me after lunch out by the apple tree. He mostly talked and I mostly listened. I tried to be quiet because I knew I had to act like a dumb Negro slave. I wished I could reveal myself to Master John. I knew trusting white folks was the wrong thing to do.
This afternoon I waited for John at the tree, our tree. He rode up on his black horse. He was more handsome than when I served him at breakfast this morning. It was hard to serve him when he made my heart nervous. He stopped his horse in front of me, “Emerald.”
I stood. “Massa?”
He grinned. “My mother has gone to town with Lottie Belle. I must show you my room. Gather up your things and I will fetch you from the kitchen.”
Master John left on horseback as soon as he arrived. He galloped off before I could even speak. I stayed back so we would not be seen together going into the house.
When I got to the kitchen Master John was waiting in the kitchen. My heart raced, not the normal way but different and hard to put in words.
“Come.” He was fervent.
I followed him up the back stairs and to his bedroom. I entered his room. I had to adjust my eyes. The curtains had blocked all the sunlight. The room was dimly light with a small lantern on a wooden round table off near the side of a walled bookshelf that rose to the ceiling. There were books strewn all about.
“Please Emerald, come in.” I love to hear him say my name. He gestured for me to walk further inside. I walked in and over to the small table with the lantern. “How do you feel about it, my room?” He smiled as he asked. I couldn’t help but to smile in return.
“I think it is lovely.” I had never been in his room before.
He chuckled and closed the door behind him. Why did he do that? Why did he chuckle and why did he close the door. I turned to admire all the books on the shelves. I could see he had Moby Dick and more books by Herman Melville, books by Henry David Thoreau, Oliver Wendell Holmes and many books I had never read. Master John had a much bigger collection of books then Miss Polly. Polly would be so envious if she ever stepped foot in John’s room. I glanced down at the table and could see The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. My fingers glided over the front leather binding. I’ve read that book with Polly. I could feel John close behind me. I nervously turned to face him.
“You have lots of books.” I didn’t know what more to say. The moment begged for words.
John was quiet. He looked at the bookcase then back at me. He reached around me and fetched The Scarlet Letter off the table. He was so close his hand brushed up against my dress. He looked down at the book and then up at me. I couldn’t read his expression.
“You can read.” He glared in my eyes when he said it. My heart stopped. Was it a question or a declaration?
“No sir,” was all I mouthed. It sounded like a question.
John took a step toward me. “You can read?” He frowned.
“No sir,” I shook my head no. I held my breath.
“Yes....yes you can....You can tell me. It’s alright. Emerald, it is fine if you can read. I will not tell anyone. It could just be our secret. I know you can read, so you know more things then you let on.” He waited for me to answer. I think I had forgotten the question. I would tell him everything he wanted to know. I don’t know why. It was as if he had a black magic spell on me. I took a deep breath.
“Yes Massa, Miss Polly taught me to read. I swore to never tell of it.”
John squirted his eyes. “My name is John. You will call me John, not sir, not master, or mister, none of that nonsense.” He looked frustrated, appalled at my deception.
“Yessi John,” I caught my words.
He half smiled. “Your secret is safe with me. I have a feeling you and I will have plenty more secrets amongst us.” He placed the book in my hand and for some reason I believed we would have more secrets. “Have you read any of these books?” He pointed at the books on the table.
“I read this book.” I lifted The Scarlet Letter up to my chest. My heart was beating too fast. It may just push the book out of my hands and onto the floor.
“You have?” John eyes moved to my lips. He seemed focused on my lips quite often.
“Yes I have, several times. I admire the character Hester Paine. I feel I can identify with her.” I cannot believe I’m rambling. I am nervous but not afraid.
“You can identify with her?” He laughed to himself.
“Well surely I’m not an adulterer, I never...but when she had to wear the letter. People stared at her. I feel people are always watching me, staring.” My honesty overwhelmed me.
“People stare at you because you are a remarkably beautiful girl.” Someone other than my Mama called me beautiful. “Emerald you are such a silly girl. Have you never ventured a look in a mirror?” He laughed.
“I amuse you.” I barked with sarcasm.
“I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that there was more depth underneath the beauty. I just could not put my finger on it. You were so alluring. I had to rush away from you. Do you remember my strange behavior?”
“I remember.” He ignored me more than you would ignore any slave that serves you.
“I want you to make me a promise.” His eyes drowned with sincerity.
What could he mean? I was sure I could promise him anything. I feel like I was doing something wrong by just being inside his room alone with him. This is not at all proper. “What is this promise?”
“When we are alone together, you have to promise to speak to me the way you like. That is, only from your true heart. Do not pretend to not understand. Do not slave talk me, all that nosum yessum and such, I have heard you doing it. I know you’re smarter than that. Do not pretend with me. Do you promise?”
“Yes John I promise but...” I think I’m going mad. Why did I make such a promise? I want to take it back but it is too late. I already said it.
“But what?” He leaned in for my response. I am lost in his eyes.
“If I have promised to speak from my true heart, wouldn’t it only be fair if you promise to speak from your true heart as well?”
He glanced down at the wood floor boards. He looked up into my eyes. He slowly moved around me and stood directly behind me. He was close, much too close. He leaned his face close to my ear.
He whispered. “My dear Emerald, when I speak to you I can do none other than speak from my true heart.” John reached for my hand.
I smiled so widely. I think my face will lay frozen in this smile for eternity. I am happy he cannot see it. “I think I should go. I’ve been away far too long.” I turned to face him.
“Yes you’re right. You will come back and see me soon?” He sounded unsure when he asked.
“Yes of course. We are friends.” My face was smiling. I was unable to stifle my delight.
“What a pleasure to have you as my friend.”
I scurried to the door and left in a hurry. I did not want to leave. I had to leave. That night I sleep well. I dreamt of John. I had a secret that he and I shared. I wanted to share more of myself but now I was content with the friendship that we had.
The next day I went to the well to fetch some water for Mama. Cutter marched over and gallantly snatched the bucket from my hands.
“Emerald you look like a gal who needin’ my help. Where you been hiding yourself?” He asked.
“I’ve been right here. It ain’t like I picked up and ran away.”
He thought about my remark. “You should come down to the row. I sees yo’ Mama but I never sees you.”
“I just stay in my room most times.”
“You should come on down.” Cutter nudged. “Some Negros say you think you better than us cuz you bright and work in the big house.”
“That’s dumb, we all slaves just the same.”
“I told ‘em dat but these field Negros always complainin’ ‘bout something. So why don’t you come ‘round tonight. Miss Bessie gont tell her scary stories. She’ll scare yo’ britches plum off. You come. Take a listen.” Cutter’s black skin glistened in the sun.
“When she gont tell them stories?”
“I could just come up to the house and fetch ya.”
“Alright then, just knock on the back door.” I agreed.
Cutter smiled. He had the whitest teeth I had ever seen. “I gotta go back out to the fields.” Cutter ran off to the cotton fields. I grabbed the bucket and made my way down the path to the back door of the big house.
When nightfall arrived I found I was eager to go down to slave row and listen to Miss Bessie’s scary tales. Cutter was the only person I talked to that was Negro besides Mama and Bessie. I knew I could not show up without him. I needed someone to introduce me to the other slaves. I knew that they were going to stare at me but I was getting used to it.
I sat at the kitchen table and waited for Cutter’s knock. I was happy Cutter invited me. I was looking forward to doing something different. Most times I do nothing at all. Mama was lying down in our room. She was feeling a little ill. I was quite sure it was not a serious illness. Knock, Knock, Knock. It must be Cutter. I opened the door. It was locked. We were instructed to keep it locked at night. There were stories of slaves murdering their masters and his kin folk just to escape to freedom up North. The hunger for freedom can make any Negro kill. This I truly believe. The hunger to keep free labor can make white folks do the same. I thought of the Negro man hanging from the tree.
I grabbed my scarf and went to the door. Cutter was standing there holding a rusty lantern.
“You ready Missy Em?”
“Yes Mister Cutter.” I closed the door and walked down the dirt path to the row. I could see a small bonfire and a circle of nearly ten Negros sitting around it on the ground. We took a place on the dirt in the circle. Some Negros moved over to make room for us.
Across from us sat a young slave girl with a squeaky voice. I had seen her before. “Cutter is you gont introduce us to da white gal.”
Bessie shot a look at the girl. “Hush up now. You know that’s Emerald.”
“I know she finely ‘cided to grace us wit’ ha presence, she so blue at the mizzen.” Squeaky voice squinted her eyes.
Who was this nappy head girl who is causing a fuss? I will make sure to get at her one day. Just because I’m bright doesn’t mean I won’t ball up my fists. She should shut her mouth before I knock her teeth in and out. She woke up the wrong passenger.
Cutter came to my rescue. “Emerald is shy. How would you feel if you got sold off ‘dis here plantation? I reckon you wouldn’t be runnin’ round tryin’ to make friends. Sides Kattie you ain’t got no friends anyhow and you been here fo’ever.”
Every Negro in the circle laughed. I did too. I wonder if Kattie has a romantic interest in Cutter. It sure seems that way.
Kattie cut her eyes at me. “I’m just sayin-“
Bessie cut into her. “Kattie, I is tryin’ to tell my story so if you gont keepa wailin’ yous welcome to go on.”
That nappy headed Kattie rolled her eyes at me.
“Go on head Miss Bessie.” Cutter encouraged.
“Alrighty, long long time ago in a place called Namibia Africa lived a young gal named Alika. Alika was part of a African tribe called the Himba tribe. Alika was only twelve year old but she was the most beau’ful gal in the Himba tribe. All the boys wanted to one day marry her. Alika had a sister named Kweli. Kweli was twelve years old too. Dey mama had ‘em one after the other. The sisters Alika and Kweli was together all the time. Some days the gals would go on a journey to the coast of Torra Bay and fish in the ocean. They would bring back so many fishes. The whole Himba tribe would be happy to see ‘em comin’ wit’ all dem fishes. Alika was not only the most beau’ful gal. She was also the best fisherman the tribe had ever seen. Every time Alika returned with fish the tribe would have a party to celebrate her arrival. Alika would stand in the center of the prepared feast and she would sit on the smoke of the herbs the tribe’s doctor had prepared."
“Miss Bessie what was the herbs?” Cutter pressed.
“These was magical herbs, herbs that would bring Alika into her womanhood. Alika didn’t know what the herbs was fo’. She just thought it was to celebrate her catching alotta fishes. The tribe’s supply of fish was very low. So Alika and her sister Kweli went back out on a long journey to Torra Bay. When dey arrived dey saw a sight dey never seen befo’. There was a huge boat that sat out on the water of the bay. The girls hid behind a bush. They peeked out and dey seen dey first white mans. They ‘aint never seen a white man befo’ and dey got spooked like dey seen a ghost. To dem gals, the white man was a ghost. They was gont rush back to the tribe and tell ‘em what dey had seen. But as soon as dey turn ‘round to run. There was two mo’ of dem white mans. The man’s grabbed up the gals. Alika and Kweli was fussing and a fighting yet that couldn’t escape dese mans. The gals fought so hard dey got tired. Dey gave up fightin’ and started weepin’ and wailin’ fo’ dey mammies. Dem gals cried all the way while the man’s drug ‘em back to dey big boat on the water.”
I was very eager to hear what had become of the beautiful Alika. So was everyone else. Cutter was right. Miss Bessie was a superb storyteller.
“When the man’s got dem back to the boat dey chained the gals up like wild animals. Dere the gals seen dey wasn’t the only Africans on the big boat. Dey saw dere was other Africans from other tribes chained up in the boat right next to ‘em. The boat set sail and was gone from Torra Bay forever. When the girls didn’t return to the Himba tribe, the tribe got worried and a few of the elders went out in search of ‘em. When the elders got to Torra Bay a young man sat in the sand of the water crying like a baby. Dey say to the boy. Boy what you wailin’ fo’? The boy say that the pale faces came and stole up his father. He say dat his daddy hid him up in a tree so the pale mans wouldn’t see ‘em. The Himba elders ask the boy if he saw ‘em take any Himba gals. The boy said yes he saw ’em take two gals with the red hair and head dress of the Himba gals. The elders went back to the tribe. The gals mammie was praying to herself over a fire. The elders told the tribe what the boy at Torra Bay said. Alika and Kweli’s mammie fell to the dirt and screamed to the heavens. She said lord why dey take my babies.”
Bessie raised her arms to the heavens to demonstrate the severity of the Himba girl’s mother’s despair.
“All of a sudden dey mammie was quiet. She looked up and smiled. She grabbed up a piece of dirt from the ground and she said it’s no never mind. Alika and Kweli are special. Dey got magic in dey blood and one day soon dem slave catchers is gone be sorry dey grabbed up her chillins’. Then dey mammie begin to chant.
Lord of the air and earth
Lord of the fire and sea
Turn my daughters to the truth
That they was born to be
To the angels in heaven
And the angels in hell
Someone who hears me
Spring forth and cast my spell
Dey mammie blow the dirt in the wind in all directions. Poop! Dere in a fog appeared a big furry creature that rose up out the ground. This monster was tall as the trees and was covered in fur the color of sand. Its ears were in the shape of a bats but dey stood up on the top of its head like a rabbit. Even though the monsters coat of fur was sandy, its big ole ears was black as tar. This monster had four legs instead of two and looked like a big ole dog. The people in the tribe ran and hide cause ‘dey was scared fo’ ‘dey life. But Alika and Kweli’s mammie stood up in front of the monster and said it is I who called on you. The monster growled and said if you give me your daughters dey’ll be my fox maidens forever. They will be cursed with powers beyond your belief and they will live forever with vengeance in their cold dark hearts. The monster said, is this what you want for your beloved daughters. Dey mammie told the monster the story of the slave catchers. She said she didn’t care if her daughters were made evil. She told the monster she wanted vengeance on those gal snatchin’ slave catchers that stole her chillins’ way from her. The monster growled and said he could seek revenge in her name long as he was awarded a human sacrifice. The woman said, that as long as her chillin’ is gone, she ain’t got no mo’ reason to live. She said kill me and save my daughters. The monster was pleased. His glass black eyes turned the bright color of the sun. The monster grabbed up the gals mammie by her waist and with his sharp teeth he bite into her neck. Blood was everywhere. Her head was hanging off the side of her body and the monster took one mo’ bite and then dey mammie’s head fell plum off her body and rolled into the fire.”
I peered around the circle. Everyone’s mouth hung open. Some people held on to their own shoulders. When I recognized I was also one of the ones with a mouth that gaped open I quickly shut it.
“They po’ mammies head burned in the fire. The Himba tribesman lurched from the hidden shadows with dey spears and daggers. The monster grabbed the spears and flung the man clear cross the dirt into a tree so hard a man died right ‘den and ‘dere. Some of the other man’s got wood sticks with fire on the end. Dey started wheeling fire at the crazy beast. Dis beast hated fire and soon as one got close to him he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.”
Miss Bessie sat quiet. All eyes lay rest on her. We waited and waited until Cutter asked what we were all thinking. “Miss Bessie what happened to Alika and Kweli?”
“Well ’em, Alika and Kweli was brought here to the Americas on that slave ship. The slave catcher refused to sale Alika. He wanted to keep her all fo’ his self. But dey put Kweli up on the auction block and she got bought up quick. When Alika got to Massa’s house he wanted to have his was with her right ‘den and ‘dere. He got stark naked in front of Alika and ‘den he went to ripping the clothes off the gals body. Alika was fighting ole Massa until he throw her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. When he was ‘bout to do his business, Alika started chanting some of that African stuff. Den she said to Massa in English death becomes you and I am the fox maiden angel of death. Massa stood up cuz Alika ‘aint ‘posed to know how to speak no English, she a fresh African straight from Africa. Alika rose up off dat bed and her eyes started to glow. They glow a bright yellow just like ‘da sun. She had put a spell on Massa wit’ her eyes. Dat’s when the magic started. Alika turned from a small African gal into a big ole fur fox maiden right dere fo’ Massa’s eyes. She looked just like that big ole fox that bit her mammies head off. She was just a little smaller ‘den him. Alika ran ‘round Massa ‘til he was dizzy. Den she leaped on his back and knocked him down. She went to bitin’ Massa on his neck arms and everywhere on his body, even ‘tween his legs. Alika was too strong and fast. Massa couldn’t fight even though he tried. Alls he really could do is yell fo’ help. Alika don’t care one bit. She bit his beating heart right out his chest and ole Massa fell out dead as ever. Alika spit his heart out and she stood up tall. Den the magic happened once mo’. She changed back into a African gal. She walked over to the table and ‘dere was a picture of Massa daughter. Alika looked at the picture and ‘den she used her magic to turn her into a white gal. She was white as over. Her hair was even like white folk. She still look like herself but like her white self. Alika wiped the blood from her lips. She took one of Massa gals dresses and shoes. Alika walked out the house and into town just likin’ she be white cuz ‘dat what she look like.”
“Miss Bessie, where she be goin’?” Cutter asked.
“She be goin’ to find her sister.”
“Did Alika find her?” Cutter impatiently inquired.
“Maybe yes, maybe no, I’mma tell ya tomorrow. You come on back and I’ll tell ya the rest.” We all wanted to hear more but Miss Bessie refused. We ended the peaceful night with song. One tall thin Negro pulled out an old worn banjo and began to play. We all sang and danced. Much to my surprise, even I sang. I couldn’t help but notice Kattie evil stares piercing my skin from a short distance. With much effort, I ignored her and had a delightful time kicking my heels up with Cutter and the others.
After a while the group dispersed. I was sleepy and tired. I needed to get back to the house. It was awful nice of Cutter to walk me back to the big house. He had such a nice gentlemanly way about him. When I got to the back door, he took a step back and smiled with all his bright white teeth glowing. “That Miss Bessie sho’ can tell a story.”
“Yes indeed, that was the best story I ever heard.” I said it because it was true.
“She got a lot mo’ where ‘dat come from. I’ll see ya tomorrow Em.” Cutter’s smile was infectious.
“Yes tomorrow.” I smiled back and waved as I entered the kitchen. There in the doorway that lead to the hall stood John. His eyes were hard to read. It was late and I knew that Mama was sleep so I whispered.
“John, you hungry, you want something from the kitchen?”
“Come here.” He voice was stale. His face was expressionless. His tone was one I had never heard.
I hurried to the doorway and into the hall. John grabbed a tight hold of my arm. He pulled me up the backstairs through the hall and to his bedroom. He shut the door behind us. We continued to speak in whispers.
He demanded. “Where were you?”
“On the row.”
“I know that much. I could see you out the window.”
If he could see me then why did he ask? What was he so upset about? I did not know and I hoped he would just tell me because I was not good at figuring things out. Maybe it was just too late and I was too tired to try. “John what’s the matter with you?”
“The matter is.” He stopped to think. “What you were doing on the row?”
Now I was really confused. There isn’t much to do on the row. “I was listening to Miss Bessie tell her scary voodoo stories.”
“You and Cutter?”
“Yes and a few other slaves.”
“I don’t want you on the row.” He gritted his perfect teeth.
“Why not? I’m a slave.”
“Cutter fancies you. I can see it in his eyes.”
I was shocked by his observation and declaration. “And what do you see in my eyes?”
“You cannot, did he, were you?” He made no sense. His words came out as gibberish.
“What are you saying, you’re not making a bit of sense?”
“Did he touch you?” John leaned in close and waited for my answer.
I took a moment to sort out his question. “Touch me, no.” I was so appalled I almost forgot we were speaking in whispers.
“Did he… kiss you?” Fire shot off his tongue. It was hard to recognize this jealous John Adams.
“No Cutter is my friend.” Kiss me, what would make John think such a thing? Cutter and I had never shared any bit of intimacy. It had never even been discussed. It had never been thought of by me.
“Well I’m your friend also. Being your friend is not so special if you’re friends with everyone.”
This was a John I was not fond of. I wanted to laugh but I knew better. It seemed that John was jealous of a Negro, a slave. John turned away from me. I could see he was deep in thought. What could I say to reassure him I was not the least bit interested in Cutter? “John, you and I are different kinds of friends.” I assured him.
“Different in what way?” He pouted as he folded his hands across his brooding chest.
I felt I had to show him the feelings I had for him I did not possess for Cutter. I was scared yet I felt bold. I pried his arms from his chest and took his hand in my hand. “John, look at me.”
John reluctantly looked down at me. I realized he was taller than I thought. His eyes were so inviting, I almost lost my train of thought. I reached up and cupped the back of his neck with my other hand. I pulled him close and I moved closer until our lips met. I had expected a quick peck on the lips but to my surprise John locked me in an embrace of the lips that made my knees go weak. He felt my unstable posture and swept his arm around me to hold me up. He never stopped his tongue from entering deep into my mouth. That one kiss, this first kiss lead me to believe he was far better at this then I would have ever imagined. Finally John decided to pull away from me. He rested his forehead upon mine and gazed into my eyes. He pulled me close and held me in a tight embrace. I laid my head on his chest. I could stand here forever.