The Prodigy Slave, Book Three: The Ultimate Grand Finale (Revised Edition 2020)

by Londyn Skye

  Too late for that, Amelia thought to herself. But she nodded, genuinely appreciating Harrison’s comforting words. She then lowered her head and scurried away with her embarrassment in tow, after James had crushed her with a response that proved he was indeed the one-in-a-million faithful man that Lily had always deemed him to be.

  After Amelia left, Harrison jogged to catch up with James, who was walking toward Austin.

  Austin turned around after James tapped him on the shoulder. “There you are! Me and Harrison were lookin’ for you earlia’,” he said.

  “Did you get any information out of Elijah?” James asked.

  “Nah,” Austin replied. “Fucker literally wouldn’t say a word. Hell, even Harrison’s lawyer integration methods were useless.”

  Harrison nodded. “The coward just laid there on the cot, holdin’ the back of his head with his eyes closed, poutin’ like a sissified little shit.”

  “What the hell’d he say to you to send you into a rage like that twice in one day?” Austin asked.

  “It doesn’t matta’,” James replied, waving his hand dismissively. “Fuck him. Whetha’ he confesses about the rest ‘a what he knows or not, I’m gonna find my wife one day … alive. And ain’t nothin’ that arrogant, lyin’ prick can say to convince me otha’wise.”

  Austin and Harrison both patted James hard on the back. “We’re with ya’.”

  *****

  The Iron Army Brigade of the East had marched for four hours to merge forces with the large brigade that Emerson and Wilson were in. They arrived just as night fell. Exhausted from their journey, nearly every soldier sat huddled around a bonfire, drinking heavily and exchanging insults. James refrained from drinking for a change. He sat there quietly as usual. Amelia was on the outskirts of the group, taking care of several men with blistered feet. After her mishap with alcohol earlier, she also refused to drink. She was finally sober, but noticeably sadder than usual to everyone, except for James. He was solely focused on sharpening his bayonet.

  As James mindlessly sharpened his weapon, a drunk soldier stumbled over and sat down close to him, landing with an uneasy thud. A pint of whisky had finally given the soldier the liquid courage to ask James a question he had been curious about for months. “Lieutenant?” he slurred.

  “What do ya’ want, Private Bradshaw?” James replied, sounding annoyed by his presence. He never even raised his eyes from his blade as he continued to sharpen it.

  “Why the hell you always dreamin’ about flowa’s?”

  “What?” James asked, sounding confused.

  “Y’ur always hollerin’ like a banshee about roses and lilies when ya’ wake up some days. I’m just curious, what the hell’s so nightmarish about flowa’s?” Private Bradshaw asked, letting out a whistley drunken laugh. In his intoxicated state, he found his own rhetoric far more hilarious than it should be.

  James suddenly stopped sharpening his bayonet. The banter from all the other soldiers around the fire suddenly ceased and their eyes were on their lieutenant. Amelia refused to look in James’s direction, but her ears perked as well. Other than a few tidbits about where James was from, the brigade did not know much about him. During his entire stint in the war, he had been far more focused on his mission than making friends and holding leisurely conversation. From the way everyone was suddenly staring at him, it was clear that the mysteriousness of his life had not only piqued Amelia’s curiosity, but that of all his troops as well.

  Knowing how the topic of Rose and Lily tended to affect James, Harrison and Austin suddenly glanced at each other, wondering if they should find a way to intervene. Just as Harrison decided it was best to change the subject, James suddenly spoke. “Lily is my wife,” he stated calmly. “Rose is my daughta’. She passed away shortly afta’ she was born.” He gazed at the ground as he thought of them. “I guess it’s natural for a man to dream about his family when he’s away from them … ’specially since they’re my motive for bein’ here.”

  “Why the hell would they have anything to do with you fightin’ against the south’s rights to own slaves?” Private Bradshaw probed, while liquor still gave him the guts.

  “Lily’s a slave,” James boldly replied. “Accordin’ to the laws, that meant my daughta’ was born and died one as well. So, I’m here in hopes of settin’ my wife free.”

  Crickets and the crackling of the large bonfire were suddenly the only sounds in the entire camp. Knowing the shock that would be written all over everyone’s faces, James did not even bother to look up, until he suddenly heard Private Bradshaw burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter. He was the only fool drunk enough to do so, though. Everyone else was wise enough to keep their silence after remembering what James had done to Elijah earlier. Amelia was especially silent. Hearing about Rose made her feel ten times worse about her earlier actions.

  “You’re wife’s a goddamn slave?!” Bradshaw said through his drunken whistley laughter. “That’s a good one! You had me goin’!”

  James looked at the cackling man out of the side of his eye and tightened the grip on his weapon. Harrison and Austin suddenly tensed, both looking ready to grab James before he did something he regretted. But James took into consideration that the man was thoroughly inebriated, and he responded calmly, “it’s the truth.”

  Bradshaw finally sobered and ceased his laughter. “Wait a minute … that’ ain’t no joke?”

  James just stared at the man with a serious look on his face.

  “If she was a slave, then how in the hell is she legally your wife?” Bradshaw asked, looking perplexed.

  “There’s no law that takes precedence ova’ a vow I made to God. In the eyes of our immortal Lord, Lily’s my wife.” James looked straight at Bradshaw. “And I’m here doin’ my part to change our inhumane backwards mortal laws … and to free my wife.”

  “And so am I,” Austin added, wanting to make it known that he was James’s ally.

  “Why? You married to ’er too?” Bradshaw joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

  Austin proceeded to speak over everyone’s laughter. “I’s a percussionist in ‘er symphony, actually.”

  “Symphony?” one of the new brigade members questioned, looking at Austin oddly.

  Austin nodded. “The Dream Symphony,” he said, a great amount of pride in his voice. He motioned his head in James’s direction. “The lieutenant’s wife composed the entire show and played piano.”

  “A piano playin’, music composin’ slave?” Bradshaw replied with another hearty laugh. “Now, I ain’t buyin’ that shit this time.”

  “I tell no lies, my friend. She’s the single greatest piano playa’ I’ve eva’ laid eyes on,” Austin replied. “Hell, probably the best that’s eva’ walked this earth.”

  “Wait a minute. The Dream Symphony? The show with the dancin’ shadows?” another soldier asked Austin.

  “Thee one and only!” Austin replied.

  The soldier turned to look at James. “The composa’ of that show is your wife?”

  James nodded. “She is,” he boasted proudly.

  “Well, hell’s bells! I saw that show up in Chicago!” the soldier further explained, a hint of excitement in his voice as he reminisced about it. “My wife dragged me to see it. I didn’t feel like sittin’ through no damn symphony… was just doin’ what the wife wanted for a change.” He shook his head. “But I’ll be damned if I wasn’t left mesmerized by the time it was ova’. I don’t think I blinked through the whole show. Damn show was so good, I tried to buy tickets on the way out, so we could go back the next night and see it all ova’ again.” He laughed at himself. “I’s mad as hell when they told me they were sold out.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. There were neva’ any empty seats at ’er shows,” James replied.

  As Amelia discreetly watched James, she saw a genuine smile emerge as he spoke of Lily. It was the first time she had ever seen such an expression on his face. Despite being rejected by him earlier, she could not
help but wish he would smile at her that way.

  The more Bradshaw listened, the more he seemed to sober. “Wait a minute! So, you mean this fucker’s tellin’ the truth?” he asked, pointing to Austin.

  “He sure is!” another soldier answered. “My wife dragged me to the Dream Symphony when it was playin’ in Jamestown. We even got to meet Lily at the post-show gala. Your wife’s truly a lovely lady. You’re one hell of a lucky guy,” he said, nodding in James’s direction.

  James nodded in return. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

  “Me and my wife saw the show twice in Pennsylvania!” another random soldier bragged. “I scrounged up the money to take the kids on the second go-round. I felt they just had to see it!”

  “My wife and I took our kids to the show too,” another soldier added. “My little girl came home sayin’, ‘I wanna play piano like that pretty lady, daddy. I wanna play piano just like her!’ You know kids, though. They’ll be fascinated by somethin’ for a day or two and then it passes … but not with this. For weeks and weeks, my little girl begged me every day to play piano, until I finally caved and got ’er some lessons. She was only four. She’s nearly nine now, and she’s been playin’ damn near every day since. Says she wants to put on her own symphony one day,” the soldier smiled as he thought about his ambitious daughter. He looked over at James. “I owe my little girl’s life dream to your wife.”

  James nodded, his proud grin still in place.

  “I unda’stand why it stuck with my little girl the way it did,” the soldier continued. “That was far and away the greatest stage show I’ve eva’ seen. Your wife told such captivatin’ stories. To this day, I still rememba’ ’em all with such detail. And I’ve neva’ heard music like that eva’ before in my life. It was truly spellbindin’. I can still hear it playin’ in my head. It’s the kind ‘a music that you hope neva’ fades away from your mind.”

  “Thank you,” James replied. “Lily’d be humbled to hear that.”

  “Any of the stories in the show true?” the man curiously asked.

  James nodded. “The story of how we became friends as children.” His voice trailed off and his eyes hovered to the ground as he thought of Lily.

  “I rememba’ that! You were the sneaky kid spyin’ on ’er from behind trees,” the soldier laughed.

  James shook his head and laughed lightly. “That was me.”

  “Hell, my wife would’ve portrayed me as that goddamn fire-breathin’ dragon!” another soldier joked.

  Everyone suddenly burst out laughing.

  “I rememba’ that dragon too!” a different soldier announced. “Them goddamn explosions eruptin’ on the sides ‘a the stage almost made me shit myself!”

  The entire brigade roared with laughter.

  “All you fuckers are lucky,” another soldier added after listening to everyone’s stories. “I tried to get my wife tickets for the Christmas show at Winta’ Garden in Manhattan, but an old fucker in front ‘a me bought the last damn pair.”

  “I lucked out and saw it there!” another soldier bragged. “You missed one hell of a show!”

  “Rub it in ya’ little shit! I knew I should ‘a whupped that old man’s ass in the street and snatched his tickets!” the man replied, riling up another hearty round of laughter.

  The way the first few soldiers recounted their Dream Symphony experience with such enthusiasm was infectious. Suddenly, one barbaric soldier after another began sharing how they unexpectedly became emotional as they watched Lily’s show. Their vibrantly told stories made it seem as though the brilliant light, music, and shadows were playing and dancing before everyone’s eyes all over again. In a freezing place, covered in blood stains and heavy with the stench of death, the Dream Symphony managed to bring warmth, camaraderie, laughter, and a much-needed boost in morale to a band of battered, broken soldiers. As James absorbed the love his men expressed for Lily and her show, he was now the one who felt himself becoming unexpectedly emotional.

  From a distance, Amelia gazed at James. He was lost in a hypnotic trance, reliving the show in his mind. As everyone spoke fondly about his wife, the joy on his face was easy for Amelia to see. She had become teary-eyed after hearing the hint of emotion in his voice when he briefly spoke about Rose and Lily. The love she heard in his tone further deepened her guilt for her earlier actions, yet, simultaneously, made her want James more. She so desperately wished it was her that was motivating the look of pure pride she now saw etched into his features.

  James suddenly came out of his trance when a question was directed at him.

  “What the hell eva’ happened to your wife’s show, lieutenant? When I couldn’t get tickets to the Winta’ Garden performance, I tried to find out where her next show was gonna be, so I could surprise my wife with a trip. The show was so popular, but it’s like it vanished without a trace.”

  “In a way it did. That Christmas night was Lily’s last show. When my fatha’ found out about ’er symphony, he showed up at Winta’ Garden and dragged ’er back to his farm. He had a bill of sale that gave ’em the right to end it all … right there in the back hall ‘a that theata’.”

  “Why the hell would any slave owna’ be against a show that could’ve made ’em a boatload ‘a money?” the soldier asked, looking bewildered.

  “My fatha’ isn’t exactly the kind ‘a man that would be ova’joyed by a slave makin’ a name for herself … money or not.”

  “Well, no offense, but y’ur fatha’ sounds like a damn fool if he prefers for a brilliant pianist to pick cotton on his farm, earnin’ dimes ova’ dolla’s.”

  “Fool is an unda’statement. He’s a goddamn demon … a demon I tried like hell to help Lily escape from, so she could get back on the life path she deserved to be on.”

  “Tried?” the man questioned. “And succeeded … I hope.”

  James swallowed hard. “Yes and no.”

  “What do you mean?” the man asked.

  “I tried to help ’er … but such a thing is nearly impossible when you’re livin’ in a country that’s constructed invisible barriers for people like Lily.”

  “Aww hell, now our country’s government is to blame, huh? I ain’t heard that one before,” Private Bradshaw laughed, attempting and failing at a joke.

  No one found the statement funny, especially James. “It’s a fact that the laws and slave codes written by our nation’s government have bred demons like my fatha’. Men like my fatha’ know every loophole in the laws that allow them to get away with whateva’ they want … up to and includin’ cold-blooded murda’,” James stated, not bothering to even glance at Bradshaw. “Those laws emboldened my fatha’ to feel as though he was well within his rights to beat Lily half to death for tryna escape the hellish life he had her imprisoned in. The laws gave ’em every bit of confidence that there would neva’ be any consequences for it … nor for killin’ our baby eitha’. For the entire thirty-six minutes my daughta’ lived, slave codes stated that a demon owned her, and every breath she fought to take. Loopholes allowed a purebred demon to strip ’er of her life, without so much as a monetary fine, or a disapprovin’ glance in his direction.

  “Those laws have now bred an army of self-righteous confederate monsta’s with cannons and guns, ready to kill to maintain the right to snatch a woman’s dreams away on a whim, to viciously beat the woman you love without so much as a slap on the wrist … to kill a man’s only child and get away with it. Our nation’s laws have led the confederacy to feel as though oppressin’ those they deem inferior is their fundamental right. Southerners now feel entitled to have this nation built on free labor, to have their children nourished by the breasts of their chattel, to have their food cooked and their fields plowed without forkin’ ova’ a penny to their workers … not even afta’ back-breakin’, life-givin’ services have been rendered. Laws that have managed to sway an entire nation to see humans as profitable products has even given rise to money-hungry, backwoods slave trada’s, one�
�s who felt Lily was an object valuable enough to steal, no different than a thief in the night, sneakin’ off with a trunk full ‘a jewelry. The unjustifiable laws of this land have cost me everything … even the knowledge of what new piece ‘a shit demon now owns my wife.”

  James stood up and began looking every soldier in the eyes who had previously spoken about Lily’s show. He stopped when his eyes landed on the man in front of him. “The woman you just deemed as a brilliant pianist couldn’t even walk past ’er plantation gates without a goddamn permission slip, because of the backwards laws of this land.” He turned to the man on his left. “The woman you were willin’ to beat an old man’s ass to see was nearly beatin’ to death for wantin’ to continue her dreams.” He turned to another man. “The woman your little girl longs to be just like had her own little girl senselessly murdered.” He glanced at another soldier. “A woman whose dream stories you paid twice to see, is now likely livin’ in a daily nightmare.” He turned and glanced at everyone. “The woman whose show you were all dragged kickin’ and screamin’ to see by your wives, was dragged away kickin’ and screamin’ by slave trada’s in the dead ‘a night.”

  He finally glanced at drunken Private Bradshaw. “And so yes, the laws and codes written by our nation hold some responsibility for the unspeakable things my fatha’ and brotha’ did to Lily and my daughta’ the day I tried to help them escape. Yes! Our nation holds some responsibility for the horrific circumstances that led to Lily and me bein’ separated that night. Yes! The government holds some responsibility for why I don’t know who or where my wife has been sold to. Yes! Backwards laws are why I haven’t held my wife for years. Yes! Backwards laws are partially to blame for why there’s nothin’ left ‘a my daughta’ but a skeleton and the memory of ’er tiny face. Yes! Our nation’s laws are responsible for the hauntin’ nightmares I now suffa’ afta’ watchin’ ’er die in my arms!”