Entering the kitchen, Quinton spied Suga standing by the wood store door, Moose excited at her feet, showing that he wished to go outside. As he grew to know her, he recognized her expressions and body language, "You worry - I read you so well, why Suga?"
Instead of answering right away, she nodded toward Moose, "He gots't'go outside."
Acquiescent, Quinton called to him, "Come Moose, out boy." The ever growing mongrel made his way toward Quinton and the door, his paws and nails scoring the floor, his rear end and tail, wagging, hitting him as he eagerly tried to race out the door, ahead of his master.
Outside, Quinton walked the dog toward their woods - where Suga, made it a point of taking him in order to keep their surrounding yard clean of waste. Slowly strolling, as was becoming his custom, he found his mind evermore on Suga, but this time, with the addition of the town-folk who were now aware he might not be living alone; in fact, it was only a matter of time before they knew this for certain, then what? All inhabitants of the area, were Christian, supposedly devout followers of the Bible. He wondered how long it would be before his living arrangement was challenged, once the word spread?
If challenged, then what? Would they try to force him to let her go, free her to separate living accommodations? That, he could not bear - not as dependent on Suga's presence as he'd become. Because of her, he'd made many discoveries and steps forward in medicine - his life was unhampered - light because she had come in and freed him of his domestic burdens. Besides, he gave his word, he promised her - that he would never turn her, send her, or give - her away. He'd given his word; it was a matter of honor that he kept it.
Yet, something told him, that this was not only about him keeping his honor, but seeing to it, making sure, she - had her honor, her virginity.
Exhaling, he had to accept what he knew about such people and how they could be, the community as a whole - if they began feeling that he, someone they trusted and looked up to as one of their righteous members; an upstanding community leader, was not living 'right' - they would have to step forward and remind him of what it meant to be their accepted physician. When, not ‘if ‘- that day came, what would he do? One thing was certain, at all costs, he must protect Suga's honor, regardless of his restlessness, his steadily growing need and passion for her, he must keep a respectable distance so that when the time came, part of the community would be satisfied to know, their dwelling together had been nothing but respectful.
There had to be proof, that he had treated her as a servant, nothing more - despite what his heart and soul was growing in torment to do. Whatever else could be done, he hadn't a clue and would think on those matters as they presented themselves.
Obviously, Moose was done, he began playing with Quinton, who laughed and returned the gesture, chasing him about the yard - neither one of them mindful of the wind chill, drizzle and moisture in the air.
Suga stood in the window, staring out at them, a smile on her face. She thought back to the first few days there, when she'd asked him for his word on keeping her - never letting her go. That day, riding through town, she’d realized that was a promise he would not be able to keep if others forced him to conform. She would have to leave, she knew that and before she went, she would see that he had everything he needed, that, she felt, was her priority - seeing about him. When Quinton and Moose re-entered, it was to the sight of her adding to the stew she'd been keeping alive the last three days. It cooked constantly around the clock, they ate from it around the clock, when things started getting low, more water was added, roots added, herbs, spices and fresh meat, whatever was available that might not have been in it before, thus keeping it alive.
She spoke right away on seeing them enter, "First light, we need t'take that mule an' ol'buckboard out so we can bring in all I hunt for…"
"Sure, Suga, we can - I told you, whatever you wish; Moose - wood store until you dry!" He ordered the animal.
"You like m'bread, I'mo sho' you how I make it, real fast - won't take you no time."
He thought that odd, "Might I ask, why you cannot carry on preparing it?"
"I - I ain't gone be here much longer, just wanna make sure everything right, 'fore I have to go."
"You're not going anywhere, Suga, not as long as I live."
He answered immediately, knowing that it was true. She was right for him, 'Hmph.' He chastised himself, Suga was right for any man - but not any man, was right for Suga. He was right for her. One of the things that he’d concluded in his mind was that she was a gift far greater than Henry Bancmen had given her to be. Quinton had never given a thought of what his mate would be like, because he’d never considered taking on a mate, a woman to court and then, marry – not once. Even though back home in England, that is what he would be now facing, had he not taken off into adventures of his own choosing.
He looked back and realized, he must have been guided by something, or someone greater, in order to be in place, to receive the best gift any man could possible receive, and that gift would be, his other half.
Suga, was – his other half – the part of him that had been missing; ironically, he hadn’t known that, until that moment.
Everything about them together, felt right to him - right in the way that you never want it to change.
"I like knowin' that, but you can't promise it, can't give your word; I should’not'ah made you say it. When time come fo'me t'go, i's gone hurt, but I'ah be okay – just wanna make sure, you okay – ‘fore I do."
Quinton walked toward her, stopping at the edge of the huge inglenook fireplace. His move made her feel nervous, Suga stood turning to face him, the warmth swarming between them, each flame dancing to feed the glow to their skin.
"Suga, I have said not a word from the moment of our meeting that was not true, especially those, vowing that you are mine until I die - I meant that especially."
"I'on know how you gone stop it. They seen me today, I wish I ain't go wit' you - I know better, that was jus’ stupid."
"Ellen Murray needed you to be there today. Were it not for you, her husband might have been burying her today, along with the child."
"You was there, you wudn't let her die."
"I would not have done, what you did, Suga. She, she would have suffered in my care, I'm afraid. You are needed here. Therefore, from this moment forward, each call - you and I - will attend together. I'm asking you to help me Suga, help them. Will you? Will you help me?"
"How I'mo do that?" She asked, stunned.
"The very way you did today, especially so, when it comes to urgent matters involving women, and those giving birth. I - will assist you, how is that?!"
She gazed at him, accustomed to him by now, that he pretty much let her speak her mind if she was inclined to converse with him.
"Why, Quinton - them is the most foolish things I ever hear you say, is you done gone crazy, Quinton? These people ain't gone want me near t'trust when they feelin' sick, at they worse."
Quinton swayed back laughing, doing a jokers jig, giddy as a drinking sailor, tickled and thrilled by her fleeting acts of aggression. To see it, made him high from the shot of joy he felt witnessing it.
Suga’s face contorted, shaking her head, "Why is you laughin' - you sho' is crazy!" She was grinning next, turning away, trying not to laugh at him; returning her focus to the stew.
"Ahhh, Suga..." He finished off his moment of mirth, "...come, leave it for now, sit, so we can discuss this." He invited her, smiling still, always when with her. Taking a seat opposite him, Suga sat and listened.
"Starting this day, you will learn all of my instruments, what they're called, why they are used. While you cannot yet read, you will learn all I will teach you - including, to read. Ah, don't flash your eyes at me - you can do this Suga, you can do this. There is so much intelligence and wisdom inside of you, you need this to give those things a purpose - a place to be used, or else, find all wasted by the road side.”
His eyes gazed at her with gentle underst
anding, “No, not while with me - you will learn and - you will teach me things, I should know. As for the town-folk, leave them to me, and trust me, please - will you?"
Having no other choice in the matter, Suga nodded, "Yes, Quinton."
Chapter VI
Frightening to Suga, but true to his word he was tenacious.
The rest of that day, he began schooling her, laying out before her everything that he used as a physician, explaining just as he’d promised.
Then came reading, he explained the structure of letters, their sounds. How they were put together to form words. How the words were linked to form sentences they used each day to communicate.
He explained how to take what one hears, and how to apply it to what one sees in letters, missives, and journals and in books - thus, calling it reading.
He made her sit with his quill, the ink well and a new journal book - where he taught her to write the letters and words she said each day; in one instance while teaching her, he leaned over her shoulder, his larger hand, cupped over her smaller one, directing it on what was a comfortable position while writing. He found his face, just a bit too close to hers; his body instantly reacted to being so near; thus a battle not to kiss her, inhale the scent of her, not touch her lips with his own - giving into urges that bombarded his mind daily. Snapping himself out of it, he moved quickly away, pointing her attention back to the booklet, and off of him. “You must learn to write your name.” He directed her.
“Suga?” She asked, smiling, excited at the prospect of seeing her name.
“Yes, Suga Caine.” He added, his gaze lost on her lovely features. Suga nodded and looked away.
Did she notice? He knew that she had to have noticed that he had feelings for her; yet, he could only wonder, did she think those feelings were merely what he as a man felt because he desired her in his bed? He couldn’t be certain exactly what she thought of them, but what was clear was this thing, between them, it existed - this relationship that should be more, but wasn't, because he would not force her to take what he would give, as a man would a woman - that knowledge was like a steadily growing beast that sat alive in their midst, mocking them both - wondering which one would come through it, to get to the other.
As a consequence of what was happening around them, Quinton knew to touch her would be foolhardy - a move he would come to regret, thus - he kept a respectable distance, while certainly tempted to do otherwise. The key was to stay very busy and focused; he returned to correcting her. Her speech was soon improving, with him guiding her on her grammar each time he heard a way of speaking that could have been better expressed. .
Suga, sighed, not too sure about this new notion of his, educating her, making her his nurse. At times he said things like, "No more butchering the English language." He was relentless, making her feel that he was paying her too much attention with his instructions. He had assigned her to writing the first sentence she spoke each morning; and the last sentence each night, both would start with, ‘Suga said’. He taught her to form a picture in her mind when she saw and read a word, so that as she read it, she could see it as clearly as what her eyes beheld each day.
Frightening as well as true to his word, she attended each call and he would introduce her,
"My assistant, Suga – she nurses those I attend." Because the calls were urgent, those who were surprised by her showing up with him, kept all thoughts to themselves as their first concern was to their sick loved one.
No matter how bloody the job, how horrific some injuries, how sick some patients, she stood firm, never balked, felt ill, queasy, dizzy or faint - she cleaned them and dressed their wounds. Not escaping Quinton’s notice – Suga had a calming effect on many, she lulled and soothed them with her gentle manner and persuasive direction. To help some patients in extreme pain, Laudanum or the pipe was used to relax them. Depending on their malady - while sitting in attendance, Suga would mix them tinctures to fortify their blood, to fight infection and pain in their absence.
Word got around about the doctor.
Word got around about his assistant, Suga.
Tongues started wagging with the question of where did his Negro assistant live? She did not reside with any of the local families, nor had she a room for boarding in town.
They were being checked upon without their knowledge – in conclusion, they surmised that there was only one place for the girl to be, and that was living with the doctor.
The first motion against them took place as they were deep in the woods, going from one spot to another, collecting fungi for food and medicines. It was Suga’s turn to teach him, show him, and help him identify the various things her mother had taught her to use in any given situation. Using the mule and cart, Moose running about their heels, they returned with a bumper crop, only to stop and see, walking about their townhouse garden, looking for them, was Henry Bancmen. Moose ran halfway between them, barking at him, turning back to Quinton and Suga, and then running so far once more, barking.
Suga clicked her tongue, tapped her thigh and the dog ran to her side, quieting.
Even while her heart was pounding so hard it hampered her breathing, she cast her eyes downward and grabbed the bridle of the mule, leading it, the cart and Moose toward their barn; leaving Quinton to see what Bancmen’s visit was about.
Approaching the other man with an open expression, Quinton greeted him, “Afternoon, your mother, your wife – I hope all is well?” He asked, hoping they were the reason for his visit – it was not to be so.
“All is well – and you? I see the fancy has fared well in your care. From what I hear about town, she has come to be of great service to you, as well those you’ve treated.”
“Yes, you heard correctly, come in.” Quinton invited him, making his way to the front door, now on guard; if his family was not in need of him, then why the visit? He led him down the hall toward his favorite room, gesturing toward a seat.
“Coffee? Tea? Scotch?”
“Em, the latter, yes.”
Quinton went about fixing him a drink; his actions did not escape Bancmen’s notice, “Should not the wench see to such matters?” He inquired.
“She is occupied elsewhere.” Quinton returned, handing him a drink; he took one himself with a feeling he would need it.
Both men sat comfortably before the matter was brought out into the open. “From concerns circulating, I have a feeling I have done you no favor offering the fancy as a gift.”
“I beg to disagree – she has assisted me well.”
Bancmen’s smile was laced with lechery, “Of that I am certain; and that is both your blessing and your curse I fear.”
Quinton sat silently a moment then took a sip, his eyes on the other man before he spoke, “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean, were you in the South, on your own land, your own plantation – you could do as you wanted. Here, within this small community of Christians, they see things differently – your living arrangements with the wench – has been duly noted and brought to my attention, as well the church’s, I’ve come to offer suggestions that may put their minds at ease.”
“Suggestions?” Quinton tasted the notion before him, and already found that he would not like any such suggestions, but had little choice but to hear them out, “Such as?”
“Take in a wife for yourself, many here are available and would be pleased with your intentions; for instance, Clarice McKinney.”
Without hesitation, his return cancelled that idea, “Unfortunately, my work, my studies, research that I do; a wife would find herself sorely neglected – I would just as soon not put her, or any other, through it. I’m afraid a bachelor is what I shall remain.”
“In that case, find a place for the wench – offer her to someone as a servant; a nursemaid to their children; or – if you wish, I will take her back – I’m certain you will have gotten your fill.”
“Gotten my fill? Are you suggesting that I have somehow compromised my standing in this c
ommunity? That I have somehow indulged in an act of indecency with my servant? Because if this is what you are suggesting, I assure you – you are wrong. Suga, during her entire stay here – has been nothing more to me, than my servant; that being, a maid, cook and due to my training, nurse to those I treat.”
Bancmen gave him a look that clearly said he must be mad if he thought he could get away with such a claim.
No man in his right mind with such a ‘gift’ could exist in such close proximity without relieving himself of that plague in which many single men suffered. A mistress, a prostitute, a bedwench –or- a wife – one or all, was needed for any ‘normal’ man, young and old and most certainly in his age and prime - to think otherwise was absurd; Bancmen reared back bursting into laughter.
“You obviously find my claim funny, perhaps, untrue?” Quinton questioned.
His peripheral caught Suga’s shadow; he knew that she must have come in through the kitchen and now stood eavesdropping, no doubt concerned over her fate.
“Surely you don’t expect me to go back and report such a claim as that? And should they ask for proof? I know what condition the fancy was in when I offered her to you – you expect me to believe that she is still the same? All of this time? Intact?”
“I have no knowledge of what honor holds you, but I assure you, my word – is sound, steadfast – and will stand before any with the dignity I have offered it, that includes the church.”
Henry could not believe his ears, “Are you saying to me, should they demand proof, there is proof to be given?”
“That is exactly what I am saying.”
They stared in silence.
Quinton had no clue as to where this would all lead. What he did know – was that somehow, he must come out of it, with Suga remaining, as his. He gave his word to her; any other outcome was out of question as far as he was concerned. As he sat, he could also see a myriad of thoughts and possibilities coursing through his opposition’s mind – and knew immediately what he must be thinking, such an idea was dangerous to his very existence. He could be hung, drawn and quartered if anyone thought that he preferred another man.
The Fancy Page 7