Wench

by Dolen Perkins-Valdez

  Fran leaned forward and her breath blew across Lizzie’s face. “I ought to slap you!” she said.

  It was not the reaction Lizzie had expected. “But I didn’t want it. I didn’t want another baby.” She wanted Fran to know she was not intentionally having any more children with the woman’s husband, that something inside of her had changed. Couldn’t Fran see it?

  “How could you?”

  Lizzie was silent. She didn’t know what to say. She could see the shine of Fran’s eyes.

  “Did Nathan know?”

  Lizzie shook her head. Would it make Fran feel better if Drayle had known? Lizzie tried hard to figure out the right thing to say.

  Fran wiped an eye. She touched Lizzie on the shoulder. “I am sorry. I am sorry for you.”

  Fran lay back down on the couch and pulled the covers up to her neck although Lizzie could see that the woman’s eyes remained open.

  For the next two days, Fran acted as if their conversation had never happened. She continued to eat beside her at the table. Lizzie had never sat at the table with Fran, so this was uncomfortable for her. In the evenings, Fran made her bed on the sofa beside Lizzie. Lizzie slept on the floor, wrapped up tightly so that her blood would not stain the wood.

  During the day, Drayle left the two women, unusually quiet as he observed them. As Lizzie’s strength picked up, she became more relaxed as she felt that she could better handle any advances he might make.

  Finally, Drayle announced to the women they were to begin packing up to leave. Lizzie had known they would be leaving soon. They had already been there almost three weeks. She had not seen Philip, so she assumed Drayle’s business had not been to buy his former slave back. She knew if Drayle really wanted Philip back, he could just claim him—with or without free papers—and put him on the first ship downriver.

  Over the past week, Lizzie had bled so much that she was pretty certain if there had been a baby there, it was dead now. She tried not to imagine the pretty hair, fat cheeks, and toothless grin. But everywhere she went, she smelled it. The wetness of its slick head on a hot night. The quiet scent of baby piss and sour soiling after feedings.

  And everything soft reminded her of it as well. Even her own hairy softness. Would it have had blue eyes and white skin like Rabbit? Or dark intense ones like Nate? how tight would the curls have been? And would it have been her first child to inherit her moles?

  On the other hand, she was working on convincing herself that she had not been pregnant after all. The increase in urination, dizziness, nausea had all been a part of her imagination, delusions created by a brain that feared another pregnancy. The tea had merely brought her monthly cycle back, forced her to expel the blood that had accumulated. She concentrated on the seed.

  And yet, she could not edge the feeling that she had done something terribly wrong. She walked around with the weight of her secret. Fran’s reaction had not helped, either. Neither of the women had told Drayle, and each time he spoke to Lizzie, she resented him for not seeing through the lie. She didn’t smile, didn’t talk, barely ate in the days following her admission to Fran. All she did was obey. Somebody told her to do something and she said “yes ma’am” or “yessir.” That was all she could bring herself to say.

  She made up in her mind that she wanted to see Mawu one more time. She asked Glory to take her. This time, she rode on the back of Glory’s horse and they traveled slowly so the horse’s movements would not jar her tender belly or Glory’s hardened one.

  Mawu did not seem to be expecting them. She cried out when she saw them dismounting the horse, and she waved them into the cabin quickly.

  “What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked.

  Mawu looked from Lizzie to Glory. “I’m moving on. Got word that the slavecatchers is checking cabins in these part of the woods. I been here long enough.”

  “They searched my house,” Glory said. Lizzie looked at her, and it occurred to her that Glory could get in a lot of trouble for what she was doing.

  “Where will you go?” Lizzie asked Mawu.

  “I don’t know,” Mawu answered, staring evenly at her.

  Lizzie took Reenie’s letter out of her dress. “I wanted to give you this. I burned the envelope, but it had new York on it.”

  “What is it?” Mawu asked.

  “A letter from Reenie.”

  Mawu grabbed it from her. She pressed it to her lips.

  “What does it say?” Glory asked.

  Lizzie recounted the contents of the letter. She knew it nearly by heart.

  Mawu looked up and smiled. “She fine. She fine.”

  Lizzie would remember that look on Mawu’s face for many years to come. The letter had done exactly what she thought it would.

  “And it came from new York,” repeated Lizzie.

  Mawu nodded. She went to the wall and removed a plank. Behind it was a cloth folded up into a small square.

  “Take this.” Mawu opened the cloth and revealed a thin metal necklace. Birds were carved around the length of its metal links.

  “Where did you get this?” Lizzie asked.

  “The man what taught me the magic. He say it bring me luck. Now I give it to you.”

  Lizzie put the necklace to her lips.

  “And this for you, too,” Mawu said, handing her a piece of folded paper.

  Lizzie spread the paper out. There was a drawing—squares and triangles and octagons all linked together in a pattern. It wasn’t the prettiest drawing Lizzie had ever seen, but it looked carefully done. It reminded her of a quilt, only irregular, as if the quilter had gotten confused along the way.

  “You drew this for me?” Lizzie asked.

  Mawu cursed. “Girl, is you always thinking about love? That there’s a map. That’s how you gone find me. I done already remembered it. Now you remember it. Then burn it with Reenie’s letter.”

  Lizzie studied it. “What does it all mean?”

  Mawu explained that the triangles were houses where she could hide. Stay away from the squares. Circles were transporters, people who would take her to the next station.

  Lizzie studied the drawing.

  “How do I tell what direction I’m going in? What if I get off track?”

  Mawu paused. “Look here.” She refolded the paper and then unfolded it again. She pointed to the crease. “That there’s the ravine. That will point you in the right direction.”

  Lizzie looked doubtful.

  “Or so they tell me. I ain’t started the journey yet my own self. But I hear tell that the families will point you north. As long as you is going north, you is going up the page like this here.”

  “I don’t know,” Lizzie said.

  “Is you coming or ain’t you, Lizzie? I ain’t got no more time for you. I is leaving tonight. I’ll be a day ahead of you if you leave tomorrow. Us is safer if us ain’t together. But I is gone leave a message for you with whatever family I meet. I is gone send you signs.”

  Lizzie still held the drawing. “I’ve got a sister.”

  “That sister done been sold,” Mawu said.

  “Lizzie, has God told you what to do?” Glory interjected in a soft voice.

  “Shut up.” Mawu grabbed Lizzie’s hand. “I ain’t gone make you. But I’ll be looking over my shoulder for you. You hear?”

  Lizzie nodded.

  On the way back to the resort, Lizzie did not say a word to Glory.

  FORTY-THREE

  The indecision paralyzed her. They told her to mop the floor. She did it. They told her to sweep the steps. She did it. They told her to go help in the kitchen. She did it. They told her to go sit in the corner until somebody else told her what to do. She did that too.

  After dinner, she helped clear the dishes from the main dining room. But she moved as if she were tied to the ceiling by strings.

  The servants in the kitchen were talking. They stopped when they saw Lizzie. Then Clarissa took a look at her and said, “Your friend got caught. They found out where she was hiding.�
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  Lizzie dropped the plates in her hands. By some miracle they didn’t break, hitting the floor with a loud noise. “What?” she said.

  “The one with the African name.”

  “They got her?”

  That part of her she thought was dead woke back up. She felt her knees give out. It took everything she had to keep standing.

  Clarissa nodded.

  “How did they find her?”

  She shook her shoulders. “Child, I wish I knew. But you know it’s a lot of snakes in these here parts.”

  The other women nodded and continued on with their business. Nobody liked to talk about such things. Only Clarissa stayed, holding on to Lizzie’s arm.

  Once again, it was Lizzie’s fault. She had not been able to make up her mind, and Mawu had obviously tried to wait for her. And the woman had given her the lucky necklace. Lizzie didn’t believe in superstitions, but she did wonder if she had taken Mawu’s luck. She tried to block out in her mind what Sir would do to her. It hurt too bad to think about. She just hoped Mawu’s strength was real.

  “They was all after her,” Clarissa was whispering as she neared close enough to Lizzie to continue working while she talked. “Her master ain’t come back this summer, but he upped the reward money. I suspect it’s the highest reward money I seen in these parts in a while.”

  Lizzie asked one of the young women to help her up the stairs because she didn’t think she could make it by herself. Just as they were about to go, an elegant colored woman walked into the kitchen. She was dressed like a white woman, but she was passing through the kitchen door. Her sheer size made her dress seem even grander. There was a man with her who looked just like her. They were both dressed like free colored folks of stature. And from the looks of it, they were brother and sister.

  If her mind had not been completely elsewhere, Lizzie might have recognized the face. She might have remembered the girl in the dirty head rag who used to work in the hotel and help her father on occasion when he came to cut the men’s hair. But there was something big sitting on top of Lizzie’s chest. Too big for her to see past.

  The pretty colored woman with the smooth skin came right up to her. Lizzie stepped back.

  “Lizzie,” she whispered.

  Then it came to her. The barber’s daughter. Philip’s wife.

  The woman leaned forward as if to say something in Lizzie’s ear. “Philip says for you to meet him by Sweet’s grave under the cover of night. He’ll be waiting for you.”

  Then she put a bonnet on her head, her companion took her arm, and they were gone. Lizzie stood there looking after them, turning the words over in her mind.

  Did Philip know they were leaving? he knew this was the last summer of the resort. Mawu must have talked to him.

  She stood there weighing everything before her: Mawu’s capture, Reenie’s letter, Sweet’s death, Nate and Rabbit, Drayle’s touch, Fran’s admission. With Mawu gone, little seemed to matter anymore. And yet it did. Did Philip know that Mawu had been caught?

  Lizzie put her hand on her belly. She wanted to ride Mr. Goodfellow again. She wanted to go back to the days when Drayle brought her gifts. She missed seeing her children throw horseshoes. She thought of Big Mama and how she had taught her to cook using next to nothing.

  She made it to her room and took off her dress. She stretched out in the middle of the bed, naked, her belly poking out just beneath the navel. She put both hands on her middle.

  The old me would have cried. The new me is all torn up inside.

  How can I still love him?

  FORTY-FOUR

  Philip had his hat against his chest, and he was kneeling before the grave. Even though his head wasn’t bowed Lizzie could tell as she approached that he was praying. It was late, not quite middle of the night, and he was wearing a suit. She had never seen him in a suit before. She touched his elbow, trying to pull him up. She did not want him to get the knee of his pants dirty.

  “Lizzie.” he hugged her to him.

  “Your wife. She told me you would be here.” She said the word “wife” with a lilt.

  “So glad you came, Miss Lizzie. So glad you came. Come on over here. I got something for you to sit on.”

  He led her to a tree stump that he had covered with a red cloth. Lizzie did not want to sit on such a cloth. But he guided her onto it, and then stood looking down at her.

  “You happy?”

  “I sho am. I got a good woman. She come from a good family. They treat me right. Being free is…it’s something I can’t rightly explain.”

  “Do you remember the old days?”

  “What you mean? It ain’t been that long. Course I do.” he paused. “I miss my horses. They about the only thing I miss.”

  Lizzie looked down at her lap.

  “And the children. I miss them.”

  “You ought to see Nate,” she said. “He’s almost a man.”

  Philip looked off. She heard the clucking sound in his throat.

  “Long as he a slave, he ain’t gone never be a man,” he said.

  “You an abolitionist now?”

  He set his hat on the stump beside her. “Ain’t no such thing as a colored abolitionist. That’s a word for the white folks. We ain’t got to distinguish ourselves.”

  Lizzie nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

  She fingered the edge of her dress. “You heard about Mawu?”

  “Yeah. I don’t understand why she stayed round here. These is dangerous parts. She should’ve left long time ago.”

  Lizzie heard an owl hoot. Owls were such precious birds. Even though she had heard owls plenty of times, she had only seen one once. It had not moved even though she was right near it. It stared at her blankly. She’d wanted to reach out and take it in her hands, stroke its feathers.

  “You know why I come to you. I know you believe in Marsuh Drayle. I know you think he different than most white men. But I wants you to know that if you got a mind to leave, I can help you. We can go right now if you wants to. I can point you in the right direction.”

  Lizzie felt the front of her dress for the drawing Mawu had given her. She had burned Reenie’s letter after hearing that Mawu was captured. But she still had the map.

  She didn’t know how to explain to Philip how she had changed. She didn’t know how to explain that if she returned she would not be doing so out of loyalty to Drayle. She would not be returning just for the sake of her children. She would be returning for another reason, a reason she could not quite articulate. It didn’t have to do with God, but it did have something to do with the sky.

  “Philip, I do appreciate your coming.” She stood and cupped his chin in her hand.

  He stroked his face against her palm. “I know what that mean. That mean you ain’t coming. That mean you still can’t bear to leave him.”

  She took the paper out of her dress. “Mawu gave me this before she got caught. She was waiting for me. She believed in me just like you do. Ain’t that something? everybody seems to think I’m somebody I ain’t.”

  She pressed the paper into his hand. “Take it.”

  “You know I can’t read.” he unfolded it and studied it. He slid it into the pocket of his trousers.

  “This is what I want you to tell them. Tell Jeremiah that he still owe me from that game of checkers. Tell Young Joe that…” he proceeded to give her a litany of messages for the men back on the plantation. Lizzie tried to imprint the messages in her mind, associating them with the faces of the men he mentioned.

  “…ain’t no chance?” he was saying.

  If she left, there was no doubt in her mind that Drayle would find her. He would hire every bounty hunter in the country. She would not get far. Even with the speed of not being burdened with a pregnancy, she would have a difficult time outrunning the dogs.

  Still, freedom beckoned to her. Even the thought of it made her feel lighter on her feet. It made her want to jump up and down, run screaming through the forest, hug the nea
rest person to her. If she could do it. If she could win the freedom of her and her children, she could have a real life. She was still young. The children were still young. They had all their adult years to be free.

  But there was the sky. And there was no denying it. It had a say in this, too.

  Lizzie sat in Drayle’s lap. He swung back and forth in the rocker on the porch of the cottage. She placed her toes on top of his. “My Lizzie, do you know why I came this summer?”

  “No, I reckon I don’t.”

  He clapped his hands on her thighs. “You are going to be so happy with me!”

  She looked at him. Only one thing could make her happy. But Drayle lived in his own world. She had no idea what he thought would make her feel joy.

  “They are selling this resort to a group of missionaries. Some holy folks who are going to turn it into a school.”

  Lizzie nodded. She was still bleeding lightly, but Drayle had taken her on the floor of the cottage just moments before. She had lain there listlessly, thinking about the previous night’s meeting with Philip, trying to remember all the messages he had sent to the slaves back home.

  “A school for colored.”

  He stopped rocking and Lizzie turned to look at him. He nuzzled his nose in her neck, clearly looking for appreciation.

  “What are you talking about? I can already read.”

  He shook his head. “No. For Nate. My son. He needs to get his lessons properly. When we return, I’m going to get him a teacher to come to the house and give him his lessons. You’ve taught him just about everything you can. Now he needs a real education. After that, I’m going to…”

  The words ran together. She needed to slow him down, but her lips wouldn’t move. What was that he was saying? Lessons? School? education?

  “After that you’re going to what?” she asked.

  “You didn’t hear me? I’m going to send him here for school.”

  She had been waiting so long for this kind of news that she wasn’t prepared for it. Her head didn’t feel as if it were properly attached to her body. It was as if it would break off and roll across the floor if she moved an inch.