The Kitchen House (6 page)

I felt enclosed in the laughter that followed, and although I wasn’t certain of my exact position in the family structure, I began to feel there was a place for me.

“Ben,” Mama said, “you be easy with workin’ those girls, they still babies.”

“Come on, then, babies,” he said, taking our hands, “we got plenty a wood to carry.”

Belle turned to us. “Ben,” she said, “you take good care of my baby.”

A thrill went through me at her reference, and Ben, at a loss for words, scooped us up outside and swung us in turn until we shrieked with joy.

O
N
C
HRISTMAS MORNING,
F
ANNY CAME
from the big house to the kitchen house with her eyes aglow.

“Marshall got two new storybooks,” she said, “and both those chillun, they get pots of colors and the brushes to paint with.
Marshall gets the soldiers, and Sally, she gets a doll that looks like her, and dishes, and more and more things. The mistress gets this long string of shiny beads, they callin’ them pearls!” She flung her arms open and spoke to the heavens. “It be like when I die,” she said dramatically.

“You gonna die if you don’t get in here to help,” said Mama, but she smiled as she said it.

More excitement followed when guests arrived at noon that day. I had not seen such happy commotion since my arrival. Fanny, Beat-tie, and I watched from the corner of the big house as the horses charged up the drive. The captain stood at the doorway, but Miss Martha left his side and flew down the stairs. She ran toward the carriage, forcing the driver to sharply rein in the horses. The carriage door flew open, and with a cry, a woman flung herself out and into Miss Martha’s arms. They clung to each other for a long time.

“They sistas,” Fanny whispered.

The captain came down the steps to greet the short, balding man who exited the carriage next. With him came a young girl close to my age, dressed in a vibrant red coat and a hat that was trimmed in white. Marshall observed the welcoming from the doorway, while Sally ran to meet her cousin Meg.

The guests were ushered indoors and shown to their rooms for a rest. We watched as Ben, Papa George, and Uncle Jacob helped the driver unload all the trunks. Finally, when the mud-encrusted carriage and lathered horses had been directed to the barn, we girls headed back to the kitchen. Belle and Mama Mae had worked for days in preparation for the feast that was to take place, and our help was needed.

Midafternoon, we began to carry food from the kitchen to the big house. We approached the dining room through a side door, avoiding the parlor where the captain and Miss Martha were entertaining. The large paneled sliding doors leading from the hallway to the dining room were closed, so we, too, had privacy from the big house’s occupants.

This was only the second time I had seen the dining room, and
I wondered at it. Dory, Uncle Jacob, and Fanny had decorated the room with greenery and mistletoe. Sprigs of holly adorned the windowpanes, their berries perfectly matching the lush red drapes. Centered on each deep windowsill, a low porcelain bowl held the sweet-smelling potpourri that I had helped Belle prepare in the fall by combining dried rose petals, lavender, rosemary, and apple slices and sprinkling them with grated cinnamon and nutmeg. The potpourri scent intermingled with the pleasing smell of the fresh-cut pine boughs decorating the mantel.

The table was set over two white damask tablecloths I had seen Mama iron a few days before. The top cloth looked rich and thick, like heavy cream. Silver cutlery and glassware shone beside dinnerware painted with bright-colored birds. Belle told me they were peacocks and that the captain used to have one on this plantation.

“Noisy old bird,” Uncle Jacob muttered.

“Yes, Uncle, he was,” Belle said, “but wasn’t he pretty and proud?”

“Till that old fox get him.” Uncle laughed as he placed another log on the crackling fire. Then he began to light the many candles.

We each carried prepared dishes up from the kitchen house while Mama Mae and Belle placed them strategically on the table, giving balance to the feast. A large smoked ham, wrapped in a napkin and garnished with pickled plums and brandied peaches, anchored one end. Belle surrounded the platter with deep green magnolia leaves, and next to the silver sugar shaker, she arranged a crystal condiment dish filled with a tangy mustard and honey sauce.

Mama and Belle together had to carry up the large platter holding a succulent cut of beef. It had been roasting slowly for hours on a spit, and underneath, a pan of sizzling potatoes caught the drippings. Four side dishes, all painted with the peacock design, cornered the table and held the vegetables. Green peas were prepared in a heavy cream sauce, small red beets glistened with butter, sweet potatoes dripped with honey, and white parsnips looked festive, sprinkled with fresh green parsley. In front of the mistress’s place
setting, Mama set a steaming tureen of oyster soup, flavored and garnished with green sprigs of thyme.

Dessert, a rich plum pudding, was warming in the kitchen, but on the sideboard, awaiting their turn, was a tray of jellies and crèmes. Next to those treats stood four miniature silver carts drawn by tiny silver goats. Belle had given me the privilege of burdening them with sweetmeats and dark raisins.

Dory came to the door as we stood back to admire our work. She had been with the captain and the mistress, serving sherry in the parlor, and though I envied her for what she’d seen, she looked weary and uninterested. Suddenly, Sally pushed in past Dory.

“Fanny, Fanny!” she cried happily, and ran toward us, carrying her new porcelain doll. “Come here, Meg.” She waved to her cousin, who waited at the door. As the twins examined Sally’s doll, the girl, Meg, approached slowly. She walked with a slight limp, but what caught my attention most were the tiny spectacles that she wore. Her brown hair had been pulled back in a purple ribbon, but tight curls refused containment and frizzed out to soften her sharp features. In spite of her solemn demeanor, I felt an immediate liking for her.

“Do you have a doll?” Fanny asked Meg.

“I don’t like dolls!” Meg answered.

“But you like birds, don’t you, Meggy?” Sally asked.

“I like birds,” Meg admitted.

“She has one that talks,” Sally said, “but she had to leave it at home.”

“One that talks?” Fanny asked.

Meg nodded, turning shy with our attention.

“I like birds,” I said, helping her out.

She stared at me through her spectacles. “What kind?” she asked.

“Chickens,” I said.

“Do you have one?”

I nodded. “A bunch. They live down at the barn. I feed
them every day. And I get the eggs. When it gets warm, Papa said they’ll have chicks.”

“Ohhh…” she said longingly.

Dory interrupted us. “Miss Sally, you take your doll outta here before you come in to eat.” As the girls left, Dory whispered loudly to Mama, “Miss Martha coming with Miss Sarah.” When they entered, I stared in dumb surprise. The difference between the two women made it difficult for me to believe they were sisters. Miss Martha, willowy and tall, was dressed in a simple but beautifully cut blue brocade, while Miss Sarah, short and plump, contrasted sharply in a voluminous and vibrant red silk that was ruffled from waist to floor. Their deportment, too, was opposite. Miss Martha, quiet and subdued, brought with her an air of elegance, while Miss Sarah, enthusiastic and outgoing, gave the appearance of being fussy and easily excited.

Miss Sarah immediately began to exclaim about the holiday decorations, but then she caught sight of me standing with Mama Mae and the twins, and her eyes opened wide. Disliking her scrutiny, I stepped behind Mama.

“Why, Martha, dear! Who… what…?”

“I know, I know. I haven’t had time to… She was on board ship. James brought her home this past spring.”

“But my dear! She must be given a chance! To put her with—”

“Sarah! Might we speak of this later?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But you understand my surprise.”

Miss Martha ended the conversation by turning to Mama and thanking her for her hard work. Then she sent us out, though Belle was told to remain. We listened from behind the door as Miss Martha sharply questioned Belle as to why her head wasn’t covered. When Belle tried to explain that she had removed her head rag because of the heat in the kitchen, she was silenced.

“Must you always seek attention!” Miss Martha said sharply, then quickly dismissed Belle when the captain and the others began to enter.

I
T TOOK A WHILE BEFORE
Belle joined the family at Mama and Papa’s house for a Christmas meal. Belle’s mood was subdued until Ben, on whose lap I sat, gently teased her into good humor.

After our meal, we were each given a few raisins and a fresh apple from the storage barrel. Papa cracked open some nuts, and Ben picked out the meat using the horseshoe nails he always carried in his pocket.

Uncle left again to work at the big house when a bottle of peach brandy, a gift from the captain, was produced. Mama poured a drink for each adult, including Ben, Dory, and Belle. Talk turned lively after the second round of drinks, and I was soon caught up in the fun when I learned we were going to a dance that night down in the quarters. Papa George and Ben left shortly after, eager to get the chores done.

When the dishes were clean, Belle took the twins and me back to the kitchen house. She went upstairs, and when she came down, I hardly recognized her. Under her winter shawl, she wore a white top I had never seen. Around the neckline, a small ruffle matched the one on the white petticoat peeking out from under her full skirt. Her long hair was combed down and curled around her face. The twins and I stared at her, and we all wanted a turn at touching her long soft curls. Belle smiled and told us to stop fussing with her, but her green eyes shone.

She handed Fanny and me her silver comb, her silver hand mirror, and some blue ribbon to carry back to Mama’s house. She and Beattie each carried a large gingerbread cake that had been baked earlier. Before we left the house, I was told that I was not to eat the cakes at the party.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we already ate our sweets,” Belle answered.

When we returned, Mama was trying to convince Dory to come to the dance. “You come, baby, you gots to keep living,” Mama said. “Besides, I know one man gonna be looking for you tonight.”

Dory turned away from her. “I just can’t, Mama,” she said.

“All right, then,” said Mama, taking off her apron and sitting down at the table. “I stay here with you.”

“No, Mama,” said Dory, “I don’t want you missin’ the fun.”

“Then you come with us,” Mama said. “You come and sit with me, and we watch the dancin’.”

Belle pulled Dory over to sit on a stool. “Here,” she said, “let me fix your hair.” Belle removed Dory’s head rag and wove a blue ribbon through Dory’s braided hair. When she’d finished, she held up the mirror. Dory glanced at her reflection, then her face crumpled and she began to cry. Belle leaned down to hug her. “Baby Henry is happy where he is, and I know he’d want you to be happy,” she said.

Mama was watching, and when we saw her use her apron to wipe tears from her own eyes, we three girls also began to sob. And that was how Ben and Papa George found us when they opened the door.

“Well, well, well,” said Papa, “this sure looks like these womans good and ready for the party, don’t it, Ben?”

“Uh-huh, Papa,” Ben said, “they sure singin’ real good.”

“Which one you gonna dance with, Ben?” Papa asked.

“I pick my mama,” said Ben. “She cryin’ the best. We hears her down at the barns.”

Mama laughed while drying her eyes. “You mens stop with that,” she said.

“Well, I think I pick Dory,” Papa continued to tease. He went to her and placed his arm around her shoulders, then looked back at her face and said, “Her eyes so puffed up, everybody think I got me a new woman.”

We all laughed, and even Dory smiled. Together, we all left for the party. It was dark outside and the evening cold. We hadn’t seen snow since the day we had buried baby Henry, but the ground was frozen, and our feet crunched on dried leaves. It hurt to walk in the heavy shoes, which chafed my ankles, but it wasn’t necessary to complain, as Fanny protested enough for both of us.

Mama scolded her. “Those peoples down in the quarters would
give anything to have those shoes,” she said, and I was glad I had been silent.

From the top of the hill we could see the orange of a blazing fire. As we drew closer, I recognized the strain of a fiddle and could hear people laughing and singing. Secure between Belle and Ben, I held tight to each of their hands, a link to their happiness, as we moved through the dark woods toward the joyful music.

O
UR SMALL PARTY WAS GREETED
with shouts of recognition. Belle’s cakes were gratefully received, and the women quickly brought a bench and invited Mama, Belle, and Dory to sit with them. A large area around the fire had been swept clean, and already some were dancing. On the far side, men were playing lively music with homemade instruments: Two played gourd fiddles, two others played reed flutes, and another drummed on pots and lids with sticks and bones.