Darkest Pattern- The Door

by Riva Zmajoki

She thought of their faces that day. Before she went to town to fit a dress on an elderly lady, she couldn’t but notice the nervousness in their eyes, the interrupted movements and shared looks.

  “The whole morning was as something was ringing in my ears, something out of place, barely noticed. The feeling of security was a forgotten memory from the times when I was young, before I had Evan, so I wasn’t the one to dismiss the feeling of trepidation. I exited the house just to go back in on the back entrance. As a ghost, I settled myself in the cupboard where I used to hide from others just to be alone for a while.”

  Sitting in that small space while only a trace of light shines through brought comfort to Belva. It was a cupboard that never got opened because it held old things which were there just to be shown to the greatest of guests and those rarely came to visit.

  “I could hear Leopold Terdreau speaking loudly when he came to the living room. He spoke as slave owners did, loudly and without a shred of fear. It was as he owns the house and everything in it. Fear crept in me but I stayed still listening to him talk. Then Evan was brought in, he was so terrified that he didn’t make a sound as they cuffed him.”

  ‘Mother will fight this,’ my son said.

  “I stood there frozen.”

  ‘She won’t,’ my half-brother said mockingly. ‘Not when she hears the truth. She’ll get her cut to compensate for her grievances, a generous cut which would allow her to start her life away from us. She can’t argue this, you are a son of a slave and now a slave yourself.’

  “As I listened to their footsteps I was blank as something was cut away from me, as I’m not a person anymore, just an obstacle.”

  Belva remembered the strands of dust in the sunbeam in her cupboard. That was her safe place, but there was no security in her world left, not a shred of it.

  “Anyway, I finally moved. As I ran I grabbed a letter opener and a paperweight from the desk, they just seemed like sharp and heavy things I could fight with. Before I knew it Leopold was lying beneath my feet bleeding. Others just stood there stunned. I kneeled beside the body. I checked his pulse, there was none to find. For a second, I just was crouched there.”

  ‘You’ll hang for this,’ my half-brother said. ‘He was a respectable man, you had no right.’

  Belva could still hear the silence echoing around her as his words ended. It was so final, her life has ended. Her new life still had no meaning to it, it was only void before her feet. She walked that void for years now always running, never looking back.

  Until this moment, in this room surrounded by familiar furniture, listened to in the inside of a warm room. Belva lifted her gaze slowly fearing her lady’s eyes, fearing disgust, but when she met her eyes there was nothing but compassion there. Belva studied her face wondering how that can be.

  “I didn’t strike him in his back,” she said to explain herself further. “I challenged his authority, tried to make my family change their minds. They just carried on as I wasn’t there like my words aren’t reaching their earlobes. Without any other idea, I just threw a paperweight at him, it just bounced off him. Then I stood in front of him and pushed him until he started to fight with me. They laughed then as we struggled. They stopped when he fell with the letter opener sticking from his chest.”

  Belva kept her gaze glued to her lady’s face waiting for betraying traces of fear and condemnation.

  “The women screamed when the blood spilt. In the silence that followed they didn’t want to look at me. As I crouched beside the body I decided that I won’t let them hang me. If they did, Evan would be sold. That’s why I took the keys from his belt, unlocked Evan’s cuffs and just walked out. No one followed us. I guess that they expected of us to be captured easily.”

  Belva pulled her heavy hands up to her lap and rubbed them feeling as the blood is still on them, exposed for all to see who she is.

  “I had no desire to kill him,” she said sadly. “I told him to leave but he refused to go without Evan, I couldn’t let that happen.”

  Josephine was taken by her story, by her tone, by the inevitability of tragedy contained in her place in the world.

  “Is that the reason they are hunting you now?” Josephine spoke up when she realized Belva won’t say anything more.

  “Yes and no. That crime haunts me still although it was a long time ago, in another place, almost forgotten after we managed to escape that first time,” Belva rubbed her shoulder. “That was the thing I did, that is my crime that led me to this life of destitute. The thing I’m here, for now, isn’t a crime. My idea of making amends is to help people escape from slavery and torture. Even that is a crime here but for me, that is a necessity, not a crime.”

  Josephine looked around her white cage.

  “Yes, that is surely so, a necessity,” she agreed.

  Belva closed her eyes looking sad now.

  “You say that so easily. Wouldn’t your whole world collapse if we won?”

  “Look around,” Josephine said mildly. “Did you see slave barracks anywhere? I let them all go when my husband died. My Major-Domo wanted to hang me for it.”

  Belva opened her eyes surprised.

  “You did that?”

  “Of course,” Josephine waved it off. “I never had a stomach for those atrocities. We’re a bit struggling with my decision now but it’s not like I have an obnoxious heir for whom I should preserve it all. No, it wouldn’t be a pity if my world collapsed. You have seen it yourself, it’s not something special.”

  “But you surely are,” Belva laughed out loud once, then once more.

  It was a contagious laugh so Josephine joined in. There was something liberating inside of that laughter. When they stopped Josephine remembered the dress she took from Sue so she gave it to Belva.

  There was a sense of regret when she unrolled the dress.

  “What was your trade before, in your previous life?” Josephine wanted to prolong the conversation.

  “That is the thing you want to know?” Belva smiled on the side and Josephine nodded. “A seamstress,” she said dismissingly. “Father decided that I won’t be too offensive in that trade, he was right.”

  “Then that dress must be as a slap to you,” Josephine said sadly.

  “A bit. You know, I was surprised at how much the small things are missed, things like materials, bows, threads and needles. All those silly things to which I dedicated two decades of my life.”

  “Well, if you take that dress you’re wearing and take off all the excessive accessories, flowers and bows it will look ordinary, inconspicuous. Throw a cloak over it and it will blend in.”

  Belva threaded her palm over the dress.

  “No,” she said slowly. “I couldn’t ruin your dress.”

  “Please, do ruin it. I never wear that one.”

  There was a spark of devilish glow in Belva’s eyes now.

  “You know what, I’ll do just that,” she started to undress on the spot.

  “You have needles by my embroidery in the boudoir. I’ll summon someone to pick up these plates,” Josephine started to pick up cutlery to cover up her trembling on the inside.

  Belva left without noticing the impact she had on Josephine.

  Tricia came in and out moving fast as a small squirrel. After her Major-Domo came in without an invitation.

  “Do you need anything,” the Major-Domo bowed towards Josephine all formal and stiff.

  “Nothing, thank you, Carol,” she addressed him by name, a thing she didn’t do in years. “I will rest now. Only, let Sue bring in tea, coffee, and two cups,” his eyebrows went up in surprise. “Maybe I’ll drink both drinks. Don’t forget biscuits.”

  “After so much food,” he couldn’t restrain himself.

  “Yes, biscuits too, thank you,” she said firmly.

  The Major-Domo withdrew with a dissatisfied frown.

  After a while, Sue showed up all timid and put a tray on the coffee table.

  “Sue, how far-off are you?” Josephine n
oticed her stomach which started to look downwards.

  “A month at most, mistress,” she said simply.

  “There is no word from the father?” Josephine sighed.

  Sue just shook her head looking down.

  “We’ll think of something when the time comes,” Josephine said mildly surprising Sue and herself.

  It wasn’t hard to notice how Sue turned pale at her words. It sounded somehow wrong again, her concern. Josephine just waved her hand to dismiss her.

  She waited for a few seconds before knocking on the inner door.

  “Come in,” Belva said from within so Josephine opened the door.

  Belva took the dress as a way to escape the feelings, the fresh despair of her personal history.

  As she prepared her tools her father came to her mind.

  “Trade is a tool of survival if you’re skilled enough no one will refuse your services,” he said to her when she cried because her fingers ached her from poking herself with a needle.

  “Why don’t you teach the rest of the slaves to sow too?” she asked him then thinking that he’ll be softer in this rare moment of gentleness. “Why must they live in barracks?”

  “Their skin is wrong,” he answered and his face became firm. “No one would want to trade with them no matter how skilled they are. That’s why it’s a form of protection to keep them in. Out there they would just die out of starvation and that would serve no one. Here they have a purpose.”

  Belva looked down to hide her disappointment and kept stabbing the needle determinant to learn this new skill that will make her father proud.

  “My dear,” her father added with a softer tone. “If I could, I would set them all free. If the world was a different place.”

  Belva said nothing but thought about how she has to change the world to make her father listen. Until then she was determinate to stop the suffering at least within their own fences.

  Seeing the lady just releasing her slaves brought trepidation to her heart. She thought of those freed blacks wondering how many of them reached freedom, how many of them were captured by other slave owners and how many of them died of starvation.

  Their destiny wasn’t the fault of the lady, she had no information to ensure their safety. Still, the mere act of opening barracks like it was allowed shook Belva’s heart. The lady just opened the door and pushed them out whether they wanted to go or not. No matter how many didn’t make it, some of them did just because of her. That realization made Belva’s heart falter.

  Sowing calmed her runaway thoughts as it did ever since she learned how not to poke her fingers. Making stitches on the glistening surface of the dress, cutting threads, removing decorations was as she was baring her life from shades and divergences.

  The divergence she made from a murderer to a saviour, to someone good and bad at the same time. There were no lines to judge her by. The future will see her as a hero if only her people succeed, if only they win, and they have to win, there’s no other way forward but to win.

  It didn’t matter that the current law saw her as a renegade, as a traitor, a thief. People weren’t cattle to be sold out and punished at the whim of its owners, they had tears that rolled down their cheeks, they had languages they were forced to forfeit, and they had culture Belva was never a part of.

  Being born in the middle meant that she belonged neither here nor there, but that confusion could be used at her advantage. Her skin tone made people doubt so she crossed borders easily with Evan by her side as silent protection. Most people would just assume that he’s her property and they would be able to pass by undisturbed.

  Only this time it was different. Luiz was at her trail, he found her scent here. If he stays she won’t be able to travel through here anymore, her network will be compromised.

  That was unsettling because most of her routes went through this area. Changing her route meant new difficulties, new patrols.

  Worse even, she couldn’t predict Evan’s reaction to Luiz being so near. She had no desire to tell him. It would be best if he wouldn’t find out at all.

  It ached Belva that all of their efforts will go in vain cutting their railroad in the middle. If only there was a safe haven in the middle of York County, a place people could find on their own without her being obligated to meet them here.

  Belva looked around. It would be so convenient, but no, that would be silly. Her lady was nice to her just because she liked her personally, there was no reason for her to help random strangers.

  It would be too much to ask of her, she did enough for Belva. The dress was already too much, but Belva liked it and wasn’t about to turn down a gift this grand. It looked even better without all the shiny details and without a crinoline. Maybe if Belva puts it higher up the waist it won’t be too constrictive around Belva’s legs.

  When her lady came in, Belva barely noticed her, it was as someone familiar came in. As the lady moved around Belva she thought of the slaves she freed.

  It was a silly move. Other plantation probably just caught her freed slaves but maybe few of them were skilled enough to escape. Sometimes few people were all that was needed for things to lean in the other direction.

  “Tea? Coffee?” her lady asked her and Belva thought about hard coffee beans under her fingers as they fell into the milling cutter.

  “There’s no need really,” Belva started but then the smell told her that the coffee was already there so she made some room on the small table full of threads and needles. “Since it’s already here I’ll have a coffee, black.”

  The taste was sour as life was. There was some pleasure in its steaming liquid but just an act of drinking from a porcelain cup seated in a velvet armchair while white hands poured and served was as a reverse dream, something unexpected.

  Belva observed her lady as she sat there in her armchair as they are meant to be like this, together and not apart.

  As Josephine entered her boudoir she smiled. Belva opened up the dark curtains and now was sitting with a needle in her mouth attacking the dress with scissors. It was as the dress was a very special enemy that needs to be defeated at all costs.

  Belva took the coffee so Josephine poured herself some tea just to be less suspicious before her servants. Then she leaned into her chair that is as much as her corset allowed her body to relax.

  “You look uncomfortable,” Belva said and kept on with her needlework.

  “A bit,” Josephine confessed.

  “Those one that you wear are the worst. You should demand some less stiff corsets, and not so wide skirts. Those crinolines should become out-dated. No woman can walk the woods in it. I believe that low waist is getting out of style. You could at least let your hips move freely with a higher waist.”

  “Maybe I’ll do just that,” she pulled the ribbon on her corset to loosen it a bit more. “Now when I’m not seducing anymore there’s no need for such pretence.”

  “You really did give up?” Belva frowned not breaking the flow of her needle, Josephine was fascinated with her skill.

  “It got old some time ago. I just needed a sobering experience. There’s not much appeal to me these days anyway.”

  “I don’t know,” Belva said evenly, “to me it seemed that your appeal is quite strong. At least it was last night. The poor girl’s blood boiled as a stew. Damn it I felt the heat too.”

  Neither her voice nor face changed as she said that. Josephine felt her skirt as a constriction on her hips so she moved to try to find a comfortable position but crinoline just rubbed her tighs.

  “That was just because she was instructed to cooperate,” Josephine dismissed it.

  “It didn’t look like that. A heifer would fall down before all those touches and closeness, smiles and the tone,” the curve of her moth unnoticeable went up and Josephine got up and went to an exposed window.

  “That is just a skill gained in years of perfecting it, nothing more,” there was nothing to see outside, the fog was upon the grass, everything looked
grey.

  “Why did you give up anyway? I felt the ache of your withdrawal. The girl surely felt as her heart was ripped out of her rib cage,” there was no emotion to her voice.

  Josephine looked at her but there was nothing to read on her face. She just lifted the dress and examined it with a critical eye. It was as she spoke of something quite ordinary.

  “It was nothing really,” Josephine’s grip on her cup threatened to break its fragile form. “All of a sudden she just seemed so young, so very young.”

  “That she is,” Belva said simply. “Young and very pretty.”

  “Anyway,” Josephine breathed in deeply trying to calm her nerves. “Men are those who are breaking hearts, not I.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, my dear,” she said and Josephine missed her lips with the cup she decided to bring to her mouth.

  She poured hot tea on her dress.

  “Damn it,” she grumbled.

  That made Belva to finally lift up her head and notice Josephine who was on the verge of a nervous break-down and covered with tea.

  “I’m upsetting you,” she smiled apologetically, “I am sorry for being blunt.”

  Then Belva put her dress aside and went to Josephine with a napkin. Josephine stood very still as she wiped her dress tapping with a napkin over her bosoms. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

  “My door was shaking last night,” Belva said calmly.

  “I wasn’t…”

  “I know,” Belva looked at her directly, her eyes caused light-headedness in Josephine she was standing way too close. “The girl had a fierce desire to come in. Why did you refuse her?”

  Her voice was soft, the sun was setting, just a moment more. There was too little time left. Josephine said nothing.

  “I hope that it wasn’t for me,” she kept talking quietly.

  Josephine’s throat constricted. She couldn’t take the pressure in her chest so she moved towards the dress on the table. The empty cup clanked as she put her too fiercely on the table. Luckily, it didn’t break so Josephine lifted her dress trimmed off all excessive decorations. It seemed more beautiful like this, without the adornment of any kind, inconspicuous.