The Slave Master's Son (28 page)

His breathing echoed, sweat covering his face and chest within minutes. He cupped her breasts, squeezing them above the fabric of her gown. John reached down and shoved his hands under her buttocks. He cupped her cheeks, squeezing them harshly as he pushed her closer into his groin as he continued to drive to unimaginable depths inside her. Hannah’s eyes rolled back as he continued to buck against her pearl. John grunted and howled, his body tensing stiffly then relaxing repeatedly until he was limp atop her, sighing and holding her closely, trying desperately to catch his breath. He kissed her lightly as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much, John,” she whispered as he clung to her.

“I love you more each day, my sweet rose,” John mumbled as he fell asleep on the softness of her breasts.

* * *

Two Months Later…

“How many – fifteen? I just don’t know if I can,” Hannah said as she spoke to Mr. Peterson outside the textile factory.

“Hannah, it’s time for you to have your own set-up. I understand that a woman of your status and demands of motherhood, as well as your wifely duties, make it merely impossible for you to be here in person, but none of the ladies here – well – your creativity and craftsmanship are impeccable. Ten of the twelve stores can’t keep your blankets on the shelves, and the dresses are selling in record numbers. There’s one thing: can you make some of the white dresses you created last week in bigger sizes? There appears to be demand for it.” Hannah nodded.

“I’m so overwhelmed,” she said with a laugh. Mr. Peterson handed her a box of buttons and lace. “We’re not using these. You’re free to have them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Peterson. I’ll get to work on those orders this evening.”

“Thank you, Hannah. Please tell your husband I said ‘hello.’” Mr. Peterson walked back inside of the building, closing the large steel door behind him. Hannah raced home and sat at her sewing machine. Several hours passed with her only taking time away to relieve herself, prepare dinner, and tend to Jonathan. John came home to find his dinner waiting on the table while Hannah returned back upstairs to continue her work. He looked around the house, taking in the strong aroma of roast stew intertwined with the scent of cleaning agents. One window was cracked open, allowing a cool fresh breeze. John smiled at his meal. He picked up a stewed carrot, popped it into his mouth, and chewed it slowly as he ascended the staircase. He opened the bedroom door to see Hannah once again sewing.

“Hannah, Honey – you have to take a break,” he said as he walked behind her and held her shoulders.

“I have, John. I must get this done,” she smiled weakly as she continued.

“Hannah, I wanted to have your clothing, blankets, and linens for purchase so you’d have something that you really love to do, but this has gotten out of control. You
don’t
seem happy at all. I’m going to speak to Mr. Peterson. There’s far too much pressure on you. From now on, you’re going to take your time and get to him when you can. You owe him nothing. He sees dollar signs. I see a very tired wife.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I suppose you’re right.” Hannah nodded. “I do enjoy it, but I feel like I’m racing against time.” Hannah felt ill, jumped up, dashed past John, and ran into the water closet.

“Hannah!” John yelled out, chasing her. He stood outside of the door, hearing Hannah retch and moan. Finally, the door opened. Hannah looked up with bloodshot eyes and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. John said nothing as he led her into the bedroom where a basin filled with cool water awaited. He sat her down on the bed and patted her face with a cool cloth. Hannah sighed as she felt the relief of the liquid across the bridge of her nose and her chin.

“When were you going to tell me?” John asked calmly as he continued to gently pat her face. Hannah heaved a sigh. “I wasn’t certain.”

“You weren’t certain when you were going to tell me?” he asked.

“No, I wasn’t certain that I – was. Now I’m sure.” Hannah looked down into her lap. John nodded and sat next to Hannah, taking her hand in his.

“I’m thrilled,” he smiled as he kissed her cheek.

“I am too. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. You’ve been terribly busy with the law firm,” Hannah said as she crossed her ankles anxiously.

“Would you’ve preferred I’d worn a French letter?” John jested.

“Jonathan and she’ll be brother and sister,” Hannah smiled widely.

“You’re determined it’s a girl, aren’t you?” John asked as he put his hand gently on her lap.

“I hope so. I’ll be happy either way, though,” she grinned slyly.

“Did you believe I’d have a conniption fit? I’m elated. It’s time we extend our family.” He patted her thigh. “I’d be crazy as a loon to not want to have more beautiful children with you.” John leaned in and kissed her sweetly.

“Some of the ladies wish for me to join them for a quilting frolic,” Hannah said, switching the topic.

“Well, why do you hesitate?” John asked.

“I’ve been so busy with the orders. I haven’t been able to sew for fun,” Hannah explained.

“Well, it’s time you had some fun, and in your condition, you will need periods of relaxation.” John rubbed her back. “You’re smart as a steel trap. I’m sure you will manage your time and take care of yourself as long as I’m watching over you,” he chuckled. John gently placed his hand over Hannah’s stomach with thoughtfulness.

“You’re a magnificent mother. You’re going to have our second child. What an honor it is to know you, love you, and have a family with you, dear Hannah. I want to thank you for the pleasure of being in your company and to be able to share this momentous occasion. You’re a blessing to me and everyone that knows you. I look forward to the day that I meet our second baby. Now, will you join me for dinner?” he asked, as he helped her to her feet. She gathered Jonathan from his room and headed to the dining room table where the three ate and laughed.

* * *

“It’s long overdue!” exclaimed Charles, John’s university friend from Richmond. “Look at this! You’re an attorney. I knew you could do it!” Charles exclaimed as he walked around the office with curiosity. He touched the fine furnishings, smiling proudly as if it were his own name on the large, block-lettered sign that read “Attorney Jonathan A. Stewart II.” Charles pushed his fingers through his light brown hair. His swarthy, gray eyes danced around the room as he went from corner to corner. “John, this is great. I haven’t been to New York in so long. I’m glad that you came back. Something told me you’d come back here one day,” Charles smiled.

“What makes you say that?” John asked as he looked up from his desk, organizing his pens and important papers.

“You were coming here to do an apprenticeship, you told me a year or two ago. You kept coming here, but I knew there was more to it. I knew a part of you loved it and would be back,” Charles said reflectively.

“It was one of the few places I could bring Hannah and keep our family intact, or so I thought,” John murmured as he sorted two stacks of papers. Charles sat down across from John.

“If I had a run-in with the law, I’d be your first client,” Charles joked. “Just don’t try to steal my clients!” John smiled pensively and continued looking down, reading.

“John, for what it’s worth, I always admired you. I think it was fantastically brave what you did for Hannah. I would’ve been plain exhausted, but you hung in there,” Charles complimented.

“It was for selfish reasons,” John responded, not looking up from his piles of papers.

“What do you mean?” Charles inquired. “You and I both had abolitionist views. That wasn’t selfish. You could’ve been killed.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I did it not only for her; I did it more so for me. I needed her more than she needed me,” John explained.

“How so? You could’ve had any woman you wanted! Hannah was the one in Carolina away from family and needing help,” Charles stated.

“But she would’ve been OK without me. I wouldn’t have been OK without her. Contrary to appearances, she’s emotionally stronger than me. That’s just one of the many reasons why I love her,” John daydreamed. Charles nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you stopped by, Charles,” John said brandishing a smile as he looked up.

“I’m glad I did, too. I heard from your father you were living here now. I knew I had to stop by and see you.” Charles took out two cigars and handed one to John.

“Thank you,” John said appreciatively. He and Charles spoke for another hour before Charles left, leaving John to his private thoughts. Later that evening after returning home and eating dinner, John lost himself in thought once more.

 “My friend from law school stopped by today,” he said as he got under the sheets and snuggled closely up to Hannah.

“Who?” Hannah asked sleepily.

“Charles Cooper. He’s very liberal – got into a quite a bit of trouble like I did, except he wasn’t in the war. He’s like a brother to me. It was nice seeing him. He has family here and is a lawyer as well.”

“That’s good, Honey,” Hannah said, her muffled voice vibrating from the pillow.

“It sure was good to see him,” John sighed.

* * *

Opal was a majestic, statuesque, African-American woman with a wide smile; large, dark eyes; and jet-black wavy hair that she wore piled atop her head with various ornate, expensive pins. Hannah had run into her at a sewing supply store. Hannah stood in the linen aisles, flipping leisurely through thick and thin layers of royal blues, cotton, wool, spools of bountiful shiny ribbon, and decorated gold and silver pins. It was Hannah’s favorite pastime. Just the scent of the shop would send her into heaven. Hannah was now on a first name basis with the owner. She’d sit down on a white padded stool with satins and lace over her lap, rubbing her slender, brown fingers across each stitch. Hannah would close her eyes and meditate on the item she planned to create. If it met her imaginative whims, it was quickly bound up, wrapped, and carried home.

On one such day, Opal walked in with a large ivory hat adorned with red feathers. She fettered around the store, oblivious of how to shop for certain materials. Not being able to find the owner, she saw Hannah sitting in one of her many fabric-wound daydreams. Opal was looking to purchase a brand-new sewing machine for her maid. Opal was rich – filthy rich. She was born and raised in Manhattan. She had been an orphan and managed to have a survival instinct similar to that of a feral cat – only Opal had a welcoming and warm demeanor. Unusually beautiful, cutting, and terse, her life was filled with emotional highs and hell-level let downs. Her biological parents were a mulatto man and an African woman who were poverty stricken and gave her up after being unable to care for her and her eight siblings. She had a happy-go-lucky attitude and took an immediate liking to Hannah.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Opal said in her northern accent. “My name’s Opal, and I’m here to purchase a gift.” She lifted her chin high as she spoke. Hannah, startled out of her daydream, looked up. She smiled playfully after taking in the soft, red feathers that haloed Opal’s gorgeous face. Opal bent down towards her.

“I see several sewing machines in here, but I haven’t a clue as to which is befitting of a mastered seamstress. You see, our maid, Gertrude, wishes to create some necessary items for the homestead. Her machine’s simply not up to par, so as a gift to her, as well as to ensure that our curtains are created satisfactorily, I wish to supply her with a brand new one. However, my knowledge of such things is limited,” Opal nodded and smiled coolly. Hannah laid the fabric in her lap on the table. She slowly rose, now nearly eye-to-eye with Opal.