The Kitchen House (47 page)

“Isabelle!” Miss Martha screamed for me to intervene.

“Marshall, don’t do this.” I stepped forward and forced myself to speak calmly. “Jamie means everything to her.”

Marshall tossed Jamie to the side and came toward me. “You! You’ve created this insanity. But it will stop. The boy is sold,” he said.

My terror drove me to speak. “But Marshall! He is yours! You’d sell your own son?”

There was an awful silence before I felt the crack of his hand across my face. My ears rang, and it took a moment to balance myself. With all the fury from the years I had held back, I swung at him. My resounding slap surprised him, but Rankin’s drunken guffaw enraged Marshall further.

Before his hands could reach my neck, Mama Mae stepped between the two of us. “Masta Marshall, you stop this,” she said.

Marshall did stop, but his voice took on a deadly tone when he addressed me. “You are as insane as my mother. Prepare yourself. You’ll be leaving in the morning. Both of you are going to the hospital in Williamsburg. I’ll see to it that you’ll never leave.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” I said, knowing full well he had the authority to do so. “What of Elly?”

“Fanny stays,” he said.

Before I could respond, Marshall motioned Rankin toward Jamie. As Rankin pulled Jamie from her side, Miss Martha began a shrill scream. Jamie jerked away and went back to her. He dropped down and clasped her hands. Everyone watched, unable to look away. “Shhh, Grandmother,” he said, “it will be all right.” She quieted, and he continued, “I’ll come back for you, Grandmother. I’ll come back.” Then he stood of his own accord and fixed his one good eye on Marshall.

“Get that nigra out of here!” Marshall shouted to Rankin.

After they had gone, Mama Mae was the first to speak. “Abinia,” she said, “you gonna have to take Elly and get to Will Stephens before it too late.”

Miss Martha’s wails had reached a familiar pitch, and I knew what to do. I mixed a heavy dose of the drops and water. The very smell offered the escape that I ached for, and though my hands shook with desire for the drug, I gave the drink to the woman who needed it and did not take any for myself.

I
T WAS DARK WHEN I
woke Elly. As I dressed her, I explained that she must be very quiet, that she must not speak. “We are going on an adventure,” I said.

“Will Fanny come?” she asked as I fastened the buttons on her shoes. I put my finger to my lips and nodded. Mama Mae and Fanny came to the door. I could see their fear.

“Hurry,” Mama said, “George say to come now.”

“Here!” Fanny thrust a small sack into my hands, eager to relieve herself of it.

“Was she sleeping soundly?” I asked, biting my lip to keep from crying.

Fanny nodded.

“Did you empty the whole box?” I asked.

Fanny nodded again.

“Did you remember the pearls?” I asked. Fanny, speechless from fear, motioned that they were in the bag.

Mama Mae hurried us on; Papa George was waiting downstairs. He had seen the signal from the kitchen house, which meant that Beattie’s work was done. Uncle Jacob was with Papa George at the front door.

“Please, Uncle, reconsider?” I said to him.

“No, I stay,” Uncle Jacob said, “I too old for runnin’. ’Sides, I look after Beattie and Miss Martha.”

Papa went over our last-minute instructions before we left the house. He would lead us into the woods and up past the cemetery
to bypass the quarters. If the plan worked, if Beattie could get to Jamie and Eddy to cut their ropes, they would be free to meet us in the woods. But, Papa warned, we must all leave without them, and no carrying on if they weren’t waiting for us. He looked at Fanny as he spoke, and we all knew what was in the balance for her. Eddy was her life.

“Go on, now,” Uncle Jacob said, quietly opening the door, “Allah go with you.”

I grasped one of Elly’s hands, and Fanny took the other. Elly was warned again not to speak, and I prayed that I could count on her silence.

As our eyes adjusted to the dark night, we were more easily able to follow Papa. When we saw Eddy standing in the trees, Fanny gasped and let go of Elly’s hand to run to him. In the far pasture, one of the horses neighed, and Elly, forgetting her promise, asked Papa which horse had called out. As one, all the adults shushed her.

Eddy spoke quickly. Beattie had come to them after successfully using the drops. She assured Eddy that Marshall was in a drugged sleep in the kitchen house and that Rankin was passed out down at the quarters.

“Where’s Jamie?” someone asked.

“He go straight to Belle,” Eddy said. “I tell him wait, but that boy don’t listen.”

Our plan was that once we reached Belle’s house, Elly and I would stay behind. I planned to appeal to Will Stephens to shelter me, then assist me with passage to Williamsburg. I felt hopeful, given the present circumstances, that Meg’s parents would be willing to help Elly and me. The rest of the party would set out on foot to find their way north. That journey seemed their only hope.

“Let’s go,” Papa said, leading us deep into the woods. “Ben say he get us goin’ the right way.”

We walked quickly, and though Elly did her best to keep up, she began to complain as she grew tired. After Eddy picked her up and carried her, the pace increased so that I soon found it a challenge to maintain the speed. Ahead, I heard Mama breathing
heavily. We were almost at the clearing when she fell. Papa helped her up and Mama leaned heavily when he walked her over to sit on a fallen log. She was angry with herself and spoke sharply to Papa when he said that we would stop for a short rest. He put his arm around her shoulders, and unlike herself, Mama Mae burst into tears.

“Everythin’ gon’ be all right, Mazzie.” Papa used an endearment I had not heard before, and the tenderness of it burned my throat.

“But what gonna happen to Beattie and her boys?”

“Mae, you know this the only way. How she gonna run with those lil ones? And you know she not gonna leave them behind.”

“How we gonna live? Where we gonna go, George? We got nothin’.”

Mama’s words reminded me of the sack Fanny had filled for me back at the house. I opened the bag containing all of my mother-in-law’s jewelry. The stones sparkled when I removed a handful. “Take off your head rag, Mama,” I said, “and put these under it.”

Mama Mae blew her nose and shook her head. “No, those for you and Elly. You gonna need that.”

“Take them, Mama,” I said, forcing the jewels into her hands, “they’re yours as much as they are mine.” I did not wait for a further response but untied Mama’s familiar red head wrap, nestled the jewelry in her gray hair, and retied the scarf. When Papa announced that it was time to leave, I saw how slowly Mama rose, and I wondered if I should have given the jewels to Fanny. But there was no time.

“Come on. Come on,” Eddy said urgently, and we were off once more.

Ben and Belle were waiting at the clearing by the edge of the trees. “Where’s Jamie?” Belle asked anxiously.

“He not here?” Eddy asked. “He go ahead. He say he comin’ to you.”

“Eddy, he don’t come,” she said.

“He got free, I knows that,” Eddy said. “Soon’s that nigga trader pass out, Beattie cut the rope.”

Belle’s voice shook. “Well, there’s no time to wait,” she said, “you all got to go.”

Ben nodded. “She right, Papa.”

Everyone fell silent, uncertain. Belle pushed them away. “You go on,” she said, “when Jamie gets here, I’ll send him after you. You go now.”

Mama held back. She embraced Belle, then pulled me close. “Abinia,” she whispered, “I always your mama.”

I kissed her but dared not say a tender word. “Mama,” I said, “don’t worry about Beattie and her boys. When I’m settled, I’ll send for them.”

Papa reached for Mama Mae’s hand. Ben led the way. Belle and I watched as they disappeared into the dark, and after a final look back at the woods for Jamie, Belle hurried Elly and me into her house. I hesitated at the doorway. “I think we ought to go directly to Will Stephens,” I said.

Belle pulled me in. “Lavinia, Will Stephens not back yet. He’s up at the springs with Miss Martha.”

“What! What do you mean? He isn’t here?”

“They’re coming back any day now. Miss Martha’s going to have a baby. It’s too hot for her here. Will took her up to the mountains, to Salt Springs.”

I went cold from fear. “Belle! I never would have come had I known. We can’t stay here. There is too much danger in that.”

“It’s gonna work, Lavinia. You’ll hide with Ben and Lucy,” Belle said.

“No. No! We can’t take that chance,” I said. “He’ll kill Ben if he finds me with him.”

“Ben say he’ll hide you until Will Stephens comes home.”

“Dear God, he’ll kill us all.” In my panic, I began to pace. “I have to go back, Belle. I have to go back!”

Belle caught my arm and turned me toward her. “Lavinia. What you going back to? There’s nothing left. Marshall’s not right in his head no more. You know this.”

“What should I do?” I pleaded.

Elly began to cry. “What’s wrong, Mama? Where’s Fanny, Mama? I want Fanny.”

I forced myself to calm down, to reassure my child. I took her to a pallet in the corner and soothed her until she fell asleep. Then I paced as Belle and I waited.

Late in the night, when Ben returned, he was wet with perspiration. “They get a good start,” he said. He wasted no time. He went to my sleeping daughter and scooped her up. I looked again at the purple line from his jaw to his neck and to his missing ear. What gave him this courage? I wondered.

“Ben, are you certain about doing this?” I asked.

He looked at me as he had when I was a child. “Come, Abinia,” he said, leading the way.

T
HAT NIGHT WE SLEPT OFF
and on until the heat of the day pounding through the shingled roof made our hiding space almost unbearable. I doubt we could have survived in the enclosure if trees hadn’t shaded the cabin. When Ben opened the small trapdoor, Elly and I hung our heads out to breathe in the blessed cool air. Lucy, Ben’s wife, handed up water, but the door was soon closed again. The small crawl space we lay in was directly under the roof of a small lean-to attached to the back of Ben and Lucy’s cabin. On our arrival, I thought we should hide under the floorboards, in the pit where their root vegetables were stored. But Ben said no, that was the first place someone would check.

Ben’s cabin was unusual in that it had this small unknown space. I do not know why it existed, but I suspect we were not the first to be hidden there.

I explained our situation as best I could to Elly. Initially, her cooperation surprised me, but I soon realized that she had long been aware of the terrible tension in our home. Her one concern was for Fanny. I did my best to reassure her and tried to pass the time with whispered stories of my childhood, stories that included Fanny and Beattie. I tried to keep Elly cool by wetting her clothing with water; fortunately, in her exhaustion, she often dozed.

To our great relief, Lucy opened the trapdoor late in the afternoon to hand up some corn bread and milk. I guessed from her cool manner that Lucy resented and feared having us, and I did not blame her. To add to this, though Lucy was a stout woman, it was easy to see that she was carrying a child. I attempted a whispered acknowledgment of gratitude, but she only nodded.

We had dropped our heads out to gulp at the cool air when Lucy hissed for us to get back up. She did not wait to slam the trapdoor shut, once again enclosing Elly and me in the smothering dark. Soon after, we heard horses, and then, to my horror, I heard Marshall’s voice. I placed my hand on Elly’s mouth to remind her of her promise not to respond should her father call out her name. But he did not. Instead, I heard him tell Lucy that he had been up to Will Stephens’s house, and finding him not home, he had gone through it in a hunt for me. He had gone next to the kitchen house and, finding that empty as well, had searched it. Marshall did not get off his horse but said only, “I don’t suppose you’d be stupid enough to hide anyone?”

“Oh no, Masta Marshall,” Lucy said, “I know not to hide nobody.”

“Where’s Ben?”

“He workin’ the niggas down the field.”

“And Belle?” he asked. “Where is she?”

“I don’t see that girl, Masta Marshall,” Lucy said. “That Belle never here doin’ her job! She run off all over the place! That Masta Will, he neva get work outta her. She good for noth—”

Marshall gave an ugly laugh. “Don’t you worry. I’ll keep a lookout for her, and if I find her, I can tell you, she won’t give him any more trouble.” He began to ride away, then turned back. “Lucy,” he said, as though this were an afterthought, “you tell Ben that his whole family will hang if I find out he has helped any of my runaways.”

“No, sir, Masta Marshall, Ben neva do that,” Lucy said.

For a long while after he left, Lucy did not open the door to give us air. I waited until I thought that we might be in danger of
suffocation before I tapped on the boards. When Lucy responded, her face was still slack with fear.

“Where is Ben?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“Belle?”

She shook her head.

During the next long night, Lucy opened the door twice. Elly slept fitfully, and I slept not at all. Over and over I played out various conclusions to this nightmare. None of them ended happily, and by morning, convinced that my surrender was the only solution, I was near desperate to act. Yet I knew I could not go forward without Ben’s direction.

The wait felt interminable.