The Kitchen House (8 page)

“You don’t like the way I kiss?” I say, teasing.

“Belle,” he says, “you know I’m wantin’ you.” He starts talking ’bout jumpin’ the broom, but then I run back to the kitchen house. We both know that ever since I was little, the cap’n always says that one day he’s taking me away to Philadelphia.

And now every time the cap’n’s home, he’s talking about making plans. But I always cry and say, “Wait, please don’t make me leave my home.” He don’t know what to say when I cry, so he leaves and I get to stay. But he always makes me promise not to take up with any man, and I keep that promise. Until now.

Lavinia

A
LTHOUGH THE HOUSE GUESTS STAYED
for two more weeks, Belle and I were kept busy down in the kitchen house and had no further contact with them. One evening before they left, I overheard a conversation between Uncle Jacob and Belle. They were speaking of Miss Martha. “I don’t know what she gonna do when these holidays over,” said Uncle Jacob. “Her sista goin’ back, and the cap’n leave again. Miss Martha gonna take to her bed, that for sure. I don’t know what that man thinkin’, to leave that woman alone again.” According to Uncle, the cap’n had done this ever since he had brought her here as a bride, believing that she would take over running the plantation in the same way his mother had.

“He have his business in Philadelphia and Williamsburg,” Belle defended the captain.

“I knows this, Belle. But it long past time for him to stay here. Miss Martha don’t know nothin’ ’bout runnin’ this place. Every time he leave, Dory say she takin’ more and more of the drops. And Miss Martha don’t let that lil Sally outta her sight. The only one she trust that chil’ with is Dory,” Uncle said.

“She’s so afraid she’s gonna lose another one. Mama says Miss Martha’s not acting right ever since she lost that last baby,” Belle said.

“All I know is, it time for the cap’n to stay back and pay attention to what’s goin on ’round here. That Rankin no good down at the quarters, and for sure that tutor no good.”

“Is something wrong with the tutor?” Belle asked.

“There’s somethin’ not right with that man,” said Uncle.

“What are you saying?” asked Belle.

“Why the man needin’ to lock the door when he teachin’ the young masta about the books? What happenin’, I don’t know, but I hears the boy cryin’ more than once when I go past the door. I tell the cap’n, but he say to me that the young masta need to have some discipline, that it time for him to do book learnin’ so he can run this place when he grow up.”

Belle sighed.

“Time, too, for the cap’n to do somethin’ about you,” Uncle said.

“Well, I’m deciding I don’t want to go,” Belle said. “He’s just gonna have to talk to Miss Martha. Why he’s wanting to get me out of here now, I don’t know!”

“Belle, you gettin’ too old to stay. All along, Miss Martha thinkin’ you Mae’s girl,” Uncle said. “Now, when the cap’n comin’ down to the kitchen house, givin’ you the combs and ribbons, she wonderin’ what’s goin on. It time for him to give you the free papers. He right, Belle. It time for him to get you outta here.”

“Everybody’s always saying I got to go. But you all forget, this is my home! I’m gonna tell the cap’n I’m staying here, maybe even marry Ben.”

“Ben! You be careful.” Uncle Jacob’s voice was sharp. “Ever since you was lil you know the cap’n have other ideas for you.”

“I best close up for the night,” Belle replied, ending the conversation.

When Belle came up to bed, I crawled in beside her. She was turned away from me, but I knew she was crying, so I patted her back, as she often did mine. I was unsure, though, for it seemed that my efforts at comforting her only caused her to cry all the more.

W
HEN THE HOUSEGUESTS LEFT, THE
mistress surprised everyone with her continued good humor. The captain stayed home until mid-February, but this time, to everyone’s surprise, Miss Martha remained in good spirits after his departure. Before the captain left, he gave permission for Papa to bring Jimmy up to work with him
in the barns, and Dory began to smile again. Increasingly, Miss Martha began to accept Fanny as an alternate caretaker for Miss Sally, leaving Dory free to spend more time with the mistress.

W
E KNEW SPRING HAD BEGUN
when the hens laid eggs and baby chicks hatched. I couldn’t have been more excited. Fanny, obliged to remain indoors with her charge, became impatient.

“That Sally just a spoiled lil number,” Fanny told us, but she wasn’t very convincing, because we knew how much she cared for the golden-haired child.

To our amazement, one warm spring morning, Fanny appeared at the kitchen door with Sally in hand. “Miss Martha say it all right we go see the baby chicks,” she said.

Belle and Mama exchanged a look.

“Where Masta Marshall?” Mama asked.

“He’s studying,” the little girl said.

“What he studyin’, Miss Sally?” Mama asked.

“Books,” she said. “He has a tutor, Mr. Waters, but Marshall and me don’t like him.” She looked up at Fanny. “Do you like Mr. Waters, Fanny?”

Fanny looked at Mama, startled.

“Why don’t we go see those baby chicks?” Mama Mae said quickly.

In her excitement, the little girl spurted ahead. Her white bonnet, so large only a few blond curls peeked out the back, flapped into her face, and she raised her chubby arms to hold it back when she ran. As she did so, white petticoats peeked out from under her pink dress while the gold buckles on her pink shoes sparkled as though ignited by the sun.

We soon caught up to her, and when we reached the chicken coop, Fanny took the little girl to a patch of grass and carefully sat her down. Then Fanny went into the pen and risked a peck from a mother hen as she snatched a chick away. Sally waited patiently until Fanny came to place the yellow bird in her outstretched hands.

“Don’t hold it too tight,” Fanny warned, “you kill it easy that way.”

The little girl seemed to stop breathing. “Oh, it’s so soft, Fanny,” she whispered.

“That ’cause it a baby,” Fanny explained to her charge.

“Just like me,” Sally said. “Mama said I’m still her baby. Even when the new baby comes, she said, I’ll still be her baby.”

“Is your mama goin’ to have a new baby?” Beattie asked.

“Yes”—the little girl nodded—“a real one. And I can hold it, Mama said. You can, too, Fanny,” she offered generously.

We stayed awhile longer, but Mama stood by and watched uneasily until Fanny safely escorted Sally back to the big house.

“I’ll come back,” the child called over her shoulder to those of us who waved from the kitchen yard.

S
HE WAS TRUE TO HER
word. From that day on, weather permitting, Fanny brought her new charge down to us. The swing was Miss Sally’s favorite joy, and we all took turns sending her into the air. Marshall was not around often. The few times we saw him were when his small sister could persuade him to push her on the swing. The little girl worshipped him, and it was clear that he was devoted to her as well.

During that spring and summer, we all fell in love with Miss Sally. She was a generous and fun-loving child, innocent of all pretense. She insisted on bringing along her dolls and china dishes from the big house and always delighted in sharing them. Only Belle kept her distance from the child.

“Don’t you like me?” Sally asked her one day.

Belle looked down at her, and Sally met her gaze with wide questioning eyes. I thought for a minute that Belle would cry. Then she said, “Why, sure, I like you, Miss Sally.”

“Oh, good,” said the little girl, “’cause sometimes you don’t look like you do.”

“That must be times when I have a headache,” Belle said.

“Do you get headaches, too?” Sally asked. “My mama gets
headaches all the time. They’re very painful. When I grow up, I hope I never get headaches.”

“I sure you won’t,” Belle said. Then she offered the little girl a small bunch of raisins. Belle watched Sally go to each of us with an open hand, sharing generously, and I saw then that Belle had been won over as well.

I
T WAS NOT OFTEN THAT
summer that the twins and I had leisure time, but there was such a day on a late-August afternoon. Shaded in the woods, the three of us lay on a bed of pine needles, discussing the exciting news that both Dory and Miss Martha were going to have babies.

“How did that happen?” I wondered out loud. Fanny felt free to share a theory that shocked me. After Beattie verified that knowledge, the three of us pondered it in silence. Suddenly, Fanny sat up and turned her head to better listen. Then Beattie and I heard it, too. We all recognized Marshall’s pleading voice. As it became louder, we heard an adult telling him to be quiet.

“You want me to take your little sister next time instead of you?”

“No, no, leave her alone. I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” Marshall said.

I don’t know who was more startled when Marshall was pushed into our clearing. He looked both relieved and terrified to see us. The tutor’s angry surprise at finding us glinted in his narrowed eyes.

“Well,” he said, wiping the corners of his moist mouth, “it appears we have some company.”

“Get out of here,” Marshall hissed.

The girls ran, but something about Marshall’s distress caused me to stay.

“Come with us,” I said, pulling his arm, but he appeared rooted to the spot.

Mr. Waters advanced, smiling. “So, who do we have here?” He grabbed for my arm and latched on, but Marshall, in a burst of rage, pulled the tutor off and screamed for me to go. I was so frightened, I ran.

The girls had already found Papa George in the big barn. When they explained why they had come for him, he didn’t wait for them to finish, but grabbed a pitchfork and set out for the woods. However, before he crossed the stream, the tutor and Marshall appeared. Marshall looked imploringly at Papa as he made his way toward them. What Papa said, I do not know, but it caused the tutor’s face to turn a bright red. “This boy is my charge!” he shouted. “You’re nothing but a barn nigra. If you aren’t careful, I’ll have you working the fields.”

“Papa, you needin’ help?” It was Ben, coming quickly from the barns. He had been working at the forge, a hot job on a sweltering day. A dark leather apron covered his front, protecting him from the sparks that flew when he hammered the white iron. Black coal streaks marked his dark wet face, and he carried the sledgehammer that was used to coax metal into shape. His wide shoulders back, Ben walked with the air of a warrior.

Papa turned. “We all right, Ben. I just tellin’ this man that we lookin’ out for Masta Marshall.”

Mr. Waters saw Ben move closer and pulled Marshall with him when he turned quickly toward the house. Ben moved to follow, but Papa grasped his son’s arm and whispered urgently, “Ben! Wait!”

I stared, unable to take my eyes off Ben as he watched the tutor disappear into the big house. Fury had changed the gentle man I knew. Ben’s neck bulged. He spoke through clamped teeth and I did not recognize his voice. “Let me go, Daddy! I gon’ set this right,” said Ben.

“No, Ben. He waitin’ for that. Next thing you know, he get Rankin up here. Rankin kill you or sell you, then tell some story to the cap’n. Miss Martha havin’ that baby any day now, and the cap’n say he be here for that. Till then we wait and watch the best we can.”

When Papa got Ben turned back toward the barns, I ran for the safety of the kitchen, where I found Belle. I flung myself around her waist and clung to her. Once again that night, everything
terrified me. I lay awake in the dark next to Belle, trying to understand what had happened. I had no words to describe my fear, and I felt a terrible sense of foreboding.

I
WAS HAPPILY DISTRACTED WHEN,
in late September, Dory delivered a baby girl. For the next few weeks, she was given the luxury of spending work time in the kitchen, and I was allowed to help care for her newborn.

She was named Sukey and was completely unlike the screaming baby Henry. This dark, round-faced child was like a doll to me, and I delighted in her. Mama took over for Dory in the big house and reported daily of dealing with the frustration of the bedridden Miss Martha.

“A couple more weeks and the baby will be here,” Belle reminded Mama.

“And thank the Lawd the cap’n promise Miss Martha he home before that day,” Mama said.

By now Fanny had almost exclusive responsibility for Miss Sally. Most afternoons she brought her to the kitchen area, where we three girls entertained her with play. The little girl had fallen in love with Dory’s new baby and was thrilled when she was allowed to hold it. One morning she surprised all of us by appearing in the kitchen yard with Marshall in tow. As she pulled him forward, I saw her bracelet catch the sun. Fanny stood awkwardly behind them.

Ben, up from the barns, was behind the kitchen house, chopping wood for Belle’s outdoor fire. Beattie and I were again his eager helpers, carrying the wood over for Belle’s use as she stirred and cooked the first apple butter of the season.