The Fancy

by Mercedes Keyes

“Quinton! My name is Quinton – Quinton Thaddeus Caine, say it, and say it before you rush away.” He ordered.

  She stopped, gulped, and shyly said his name, and afterward, “Hurr'up masta' food still hot.”

  Quinton crossed his arms over his chest as if having a royal fit and informed her, “Call me masta' once more, and I shall remain out here, in the barn, with the hens, leaving you to that blasted place to do what you damn well, bloody please!”

  Suga couldn't believe her eyes, nor her ears, “Masta' I can't call you that, taint right.” She pleaded her case.

  “Very well, I suppose I should focus on doing what I can to make myself comfortable, it appears I'll be here a while.”

  “Oh please don't do that, I can't call you out by yo'name, that just ain't done.”

  “Very well, as I said, here I shall be. Should anyone come knocking for me, please direct them to the barn and-...”

  “Oh please – I try, I'ah try.”

  “Say it, say my name, as I've given it.” he demanded.

  She swallowed, nervously, “How 'bout I call you sa', that be okay?”

  “No!” He answered, waiting. She chewed on the corner of her mouth, “Okay, I'ah call you what you say.” She turned away.

  “Suga Caine! Get back here! I wish to hear it, before you go, right now - I want to hear it, call me by my name.”

  She turned slowly back, looking down at the puppy that was licking her neck and chin, and said it just above a whisper, “I get yo'food ready ... Quinton.”

  “Say it once more - louder – no slow timing me.”

  “Qui - Quinton.” She repeated.

  “Now see, that was not so hard – no lightening striking! If you wish my attention, you will address me as, Quinton, which is my name. Should you call me masta' – I will not hear you, I will not respond; now inside with you.”

  She nodded and trotted off back into the house, head spinning, she couldn't believe him. Once more, this was a totally different kind of white man. Inside the door, she ran to the room off the kitchen where wood was stacked high and placed the puppy down in there, it started whimpering right away as she went to close the door.

  “I got's t'see 'bout masta' – uh – Quinton now, don't you start, I be back wit' some food fa'you, some water, jus' hang on.” She told him and backed out, closing the door. She rushed into the other room and shook out the clothing he’d brought for her, a chemise and gown. She smiled, relieved, anything was better than the sheet. Dropping it from her slender dark body, she quickly donned the clothing, the fit wasn't too bad, she figured at least she was covered from her neck to her bare feet.

  Back in the kitchen, she took a bowl, dipped it into the warm water she had waiting for him, and hurried out the back door where she cleansed her hands and arms from holding the chunky mongrel. Turning back into the house, she grabbed a plate and started setting a place at the table for Quinton.

  Soon she heard him coming up the back steps and then in through the kitchen door; his eyes on her and the gown she wore.

  “Ah, now – that's better, much better. It's a start. There will be more; you can't very well stay in that one all the time.” He spoke in his usual way, as if they'd known each other forever – filling her in on the way things would be. “Can you sew?”

  “Yes – I can sew.” She answered.

  What he was starting to notice about her was that her smile was always slight, unsure, mindful, and careful – wishing to do nothing that would irritate him or make him regret that he'd brought her home. He didn't want her to smile that way, he wanted her to smile in a way to say, that she knew him, was sure of him, was happy to be there, with him.

  “Water right there mas – uh – sa' – erm, Quinton.”

  She corrected herself just in time. Hearing masta' come out of her mouth, stopped him – her correction, caused his smile and him to resume his forward motion to the washing bowl where clean, steaming water awaited him. Hands in, he commented – “I expect soon that slip won't be happening, I am Quinton, and you – you are Suga – within these walls, we will address each other as such.” It was an order; she understood that now, and yet, not an order as most would have delivered it, no not at all. His orders were laced with care and kindness – as if to say – with him, things would be different, and that was the reason she never wanted to be given away.

  “I try mas...” She stopped and dropped her face, berating herself. He was drying his hands, watching her with a lifted brow, and waiting. “Yes, Quinton, I'm gone try.”

  “Very well, that is where all things begin, with the effort.” He smiled at her; she glanced at the setting for him at the table.

  His eyes followed hers to the setting and then back to her asking, “Will you join me?”

  “Got's to see to this puppy.” She answered softly, stunned that he would ask such a thing.

  Clearly she was right, the puppy was barking and howling away behind the door of the wood store.

  “Yes, I suppose so, what have you prepared for me?” He asked, taking his seat.

  “Not so sho' what to fix you; so I make you what you need.” She answered, taking his bowl to the cook pot, serving him up heaps of a rich green stew.

  “Interesting... what I need, hm?”

  “Yes sa' – you 'round sick folks all the time, gots to keep you strong.” She set the steaming bowl before him, and took out fresh bread she'd baked for him.

  Quinton stared into the bowl at the concoction, unsure of it, he'd never eaten anything so green looking, filled with lumps of food stuffs that were white and dark tan, and it appeared that there was meat as well.

  “Yes, very very interesting...” He murmured, his eyes going from it to her, for her to encourage him, “Gone – try it.”

  “May I ask, what is in it?”

  “Masta' – uh, I mean, Quinton – I'on want nothin' t'happen to you – somethin' do, wha's gone happen t'me? Eat.”

  “Emmm,” He murmured at her reasoning.

  “I's wild greens, herbs, mushrooms, turnip, rabbit....”

  “Rabbit?” He exclaimed.

  “Eat.” She pressed, showing a bit more backbone.

  He exhaled, picked up his fork, pierced a collection of ingredients and with his mind whirling, before he lost his nerve, popped it into his mouth. He chewed and realized that is was substantial, as well some sort of leafy vegetable, as he chewed and swallowed, he realized it wasn't that bad – in fact, it was rather good, this mix of things – he went in for more, so far, impressed.

  “Eat all it.” She gently nudged and turned from him to see to the crying puppy. Quinton paused at her order, surprised by it he sighed, smiled and took some of the bread, which was beautifully baked, and dipped it before biting into it; his taste buds were in heaven and he began thoroughly enjoying the simple fare. He cleaned his bowl and found that he wanted more.

  She was busy with the puppy so he helped himself to more. Back at the table, he called to her as she was in hearing range.

  “Suga, may I ask, where exactly did you get all of these things, and the - rabbit?” He continued to eat, feeling his taste buds come alive and tingle.

  “In'na woods.” She answered, coming from the room with the puppy on her arm, “Gonna take him outside-...”

  “Suga?! What do you mean, you got it in the woods?!” He was sitting at full attention; his eyes wide and following her to the door.

  “Got's'ta take care you, got's'ta do my bit.”

  “Suga, are you telling me, you left this home dressed in a sheet, went into the woods picking – this – this – which I find quite pleasing by the way – however – you – alone – entered those woods for this – and a rabbit, all that I'm eating?” He asked, aghast at the idea.

  “Had to, what I need'ta feed you, in them woods – can't have you hungry, can't have you sick – who gone take care o'me – I’on take care o’you?” It was obvious the idea of her deed had left him speechless – taking advantage of his loss for words; she made
her way out the door. Quinton charged up from his chair, rushing to the back door, pushing it open to watch her, she lowered the puppy so he could relieve himself outside. Suga stood with her back to him, “Suga Caine! Turn and face me, at once!” He demanded.

  She turned slowly, looking up at him.

  “You are never – ever I say – to do that again! Dressed in a sheet at that! What if you'd been spotted? Taken? What then?”

  “I'm careful – quiet – can't see me.” She returned low.

  “A white sheet – how could someone not?!”

  “I ain' need no sheet in'na woods.” She explained simply.

  “What?!” He suddenly looked as if he would swoon, he staggered down a step, “Are you saying? Were you – without clothing?”

  “Ain’ have no cloths; don't need none in them woods.”

  “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed aghast at the idea, “Never again! Do you hear? Not ever!”

  She nodded that she heard. He turned back, wobbling as if unsteady on his feet, his mind tossing about all the possibilities, he’d never heard of a woman doing such a thing, it was simply unheard of where he’d come from. He made his way back to his bowl of delicious green stew, as shocked as he was, there was no doubt, the trip to the woods, had been certainly worth it. Three bowls later, quite full – he went back out to see what she could possibly be doing all of that time. He found her in the barn, standing at the tack table, cleaning and preparing large heaps of roots and plants that were piled in a basket. Without thought, he reached over laying his palm against her forehead, checking for a fever – her temperature felt normal. His actions caused the puppy, who sat between her feet, looking out from beneath her gown up at him to start barking, making him smile. He knelt and held his hand out to it, looking into her basket of treasures.

  “What have you there?”

  “Stuff we gone need, when that wind get col', get to howlin' – folks ches’ gone get full so they can't breathe, we don' eat this, we ain' gone be breathin' eitha’. You gots'ta help them, I gots'ta help you, keep you strong, so you take good care'o'me.” She went on gently, her voice filled with passion and determination to now start doing her part, now that she was back on her feet. Quinton gave the puppy's head another stroke, one last scratch behind the ear and then he stood watching her work with things she'd gathered from their woods, some he recognized, some he did not – but she knew, he could tell that she knew what she was doing. Funnily enough, after having that stew, he felt renewed, invigorated – his body seemed alert; while one hunger was indeed sated, another was coming to life.

  “Qu-Quinton...” She hesitated to begin.

  “Yes, Suga.” He answered softly.

  “Am I – ‘lowed to – to ask thangs o'you?”

  He smiled, “Yes, Suga, you are, and the word is allowed.”

  “Is you – you a man, o'your word?” She asked.

  His gaze was soft with longing upon her, leaning against the barn door, arms and ankles crossed; content to feast upon her gentle features aglow from the dim light of the lantern; he answered her after a bit, “I do my best, Suga, to be known as a man of his word, thus, I do not give it lightly.”

  She nodded, thinking about her mother's master. He was not a gentle man when he used her mother in his bed. He did things that made her cry, hurt her body, hurt her soul, made her ashamed to say what he did to her – and at times, he shared her with his men friends. She and her mother, had had no people to return to, for the Powhatan tribal people were no more. Scattered, their lands taken, their honor destroyed – few remained, those that did – ended up as slaves to those who owned plantations.

  Miakoda, her mother's name when with her people, meant power of the moon, it became Cora, when she became a slave to Gareth Kuiper. She was used to have daughters with an African slave Ishmael, because their daughters had a look about them that was breath-taking to behold and thus were deemed as fancies, Suga was one of them – their last daughter. The three sons born to them had been killed. Ishmael, her father – it was said, had gone mad – had run off, never to be seen again. Her mother, Cora, became Gareth's bedwench.

  Cora's other job, was to raise her daughters to become valuable fancies. She taught them the ways of her people, as well the ways of surviving in the new white world that was growing around them; their taking over the land was like a plague out of control, with no way to stop it - taking over lands that once belonged to them and their forefathers, the African.

  Cora had taught them how to survive off the land, how to hunt, fish and how to find edible greens, roots, fungi and herbs the tribes used to make medicine that was also their food – their diet that kept them strong, only for them to fall under the sword, the cannon, the armies. She equipped each of her daughters with these skills, and then sent them off with a prayer to her gods that they survive and the blood of the Powhatan not end – but grow stronger with the blood of the African and yes, eventually, the white man. “Well? Let me hear it.” He brought her back from that place her mind had wondered off to.

  She gulped, said a bit of a prayer, and then spoke, “I – I do not – want you – to share me, wit’ otha' men.” She looked up, straight into his eyes, “I belong, to you – you keep me, but – for you – nobody but you. Please masta' – ah – Quinton.”

  His body suddenly drained of the lust filled energy of moments before, seeing the look in her eyes, and the request she would have his word on – it was the last request he expected to hear. “You have my word, Suga, I would not consider, sharing you with another.”

  She nodded, “And you keep me, 'till the day I die, or, the day you die?” She bravely added.

  Quinton threw his head back howling with laughter, he couldn't help himself, “Suga, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were setting me up for a vow of honor, holding me to a pledge of marriage before God!” He chuckled, however she didn't share his humor, she was serious; regardless of how he saw it.

  “You keep me, like I say?”

  Because she was serious, he sighed once more, sobering to give his consent, “All right, Suga, I'll keep you – as you said. For me and only me – until the day that I die – you have my word of honor as a gentleman.” He smiled, “You happy now?”

  She gave her hesitant slight smile and nodded.

  “Now that I've made such a vow, it would bring me pleasure to see a brighter smile – will you honor me with such a treat, yes - Suga?” He coaxed gently, smiling himself.

  She nodded, and smiled wider, licking her dry lips, she showed straight clean teeth, for him.

  “Ah, that's better – much better. How much longer will you be here? I have studying to do, journaling, I can't very well find my mind focused on those things with you out here.”

  “Don't worry 'bout me masta' – uh – Quinton, I take care myself.”

  “That very well may be, even so, I'd just as soon you be inside, where I can hear you about, know that you're okay.”

  Suddenly they heard a growling sound, Suga's gown was shifting and twisting below the waist, they looked down to see the puppy tugging at it, growling and playing with her skirt hem.

  “Ah, now then! Stop that you!” Quinton bent and picked the puppy up, looking into his multi colored face, split in half by brown and white, a black thin strip separating the two colors.

  “What are we to call you?” The pup began grunting and whimpering, its thick legs and massive paws flailing to get down.

  “The man whom gave him, said he was to be a moose.” He informed her, smiling. “What would you suggest?” He asked Suga,

  “He is yours after all; he will protect you when I'm away and cannot.” He further explained to her.

  “Moose-Taima – we'ah call him.”

  “Moose-Taima is it? Sounds fine by me, why Taima?” Quinton asked, sitting him back to the ground.

  “To the Powhatan, Taima – is thunder. He gone be big one day, like a moose, and when he bark, gone be like thunder.”

  She smiled a
fter saying that, as if proud, because the smile was bright, unafraid. Seeing her face right then, made Quinton's heart take off beating so, it felt as if reacting to the sound of thunder.

  “Powhatan? They are legendary, the tribe of Pocahontas, she went to England, sat before the queen, and sadly died upon her return here. You are from that tribe?”

  “My mother.” She answered simply.

  He found that it was hard at times to look away from her, “Who are you, Suga? Where have you come from?” He asked in a curious whisper.

  “My mama say, child o'the earth, to live on it, and sweetin' all the places I go, like sugah. She say, always leave, a sweet taste behin' for those, who know me. She say, my name remin' me, what she always want me to be, sweet – like sugah.”

  Chapter IV

  In the days that followed, slowly, gradually, he could tell she was getting more comfortable – confident – trusting him to keep his word. She began a routine which involved being as silent around him as possible – while carrying on with matters within his home he had once been forced to see to – matters that waited until he got to them; such as making order of his home. With each leave and return, she made a better arrangement of things, proving that women really were better at making a dwelling a place one could call home.

  Something that also did not escape his notice was that she had a habit of saying; she had to do her bit. In view of that, her words, her deeds compelled Quinton to do his bit, providing things for the home and for her – which made it what it should be, even though he was still, in a sense - a bachelor; contrary to that, her presence was slowly but surely, altering his dwelling to reflect otherwise.

  When the townsfolk had need of his services, in exchange he received coin, materials, livestock ie; two goats, one for milking and the other her kid; a rooster; geese and a mule with cart. Returning with each new trade, he turned them over to her and immediately dismissed all things from his mind, trusting her to take care so that he could continue on with his studies, his tests…