Douglass’ Women

by Jewell Parker Rhodes

  I abided. But, finally, there came a time to be doing. Time to get up. My feet touched the floor. Time to set grief aside. Be the Mam and wife of my house. Annie would know I still carried her in the center of my heart.

  I heard a great whoop. Freddy opened the door, grinning, waving a telegraph. “Lincoln’s won, Anna. He’s won.”

  “I’m right pleased, Freddy. Hand me my wrap.”

  “I mean to have great influence, Anna. Time’s come to dismantle slavery once and for all.”

  “You’ll do it, Freddy. If anybody can, you can. Please hand me my shawl.”

  “I’ve been dreaming of this day.”

  “Praise the Lord.”

  “Praise the Republicans who had sense enough to nominate Lincoln. Praise the men who voted.”

  “God had a hand in it, too.” I gathered up my wrap. Freddy would be talking politics all day.

  He sat beside me, put his arm about my shoulder. I thought he might kiss me.

  “We’re moving to Washington, Anna. I’ve already found our new home.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Our new home.”

  “This my home.”

  “Cedar Hill. You’ll like it, Anna. I promise you. Right in the heart of our government. I’ll make headway with representatives and senators. Match my wits with them and win.”

  He sat beside me, squeezed me quick, then he was up again, couldn’t keep still, pacing like a soldier journeying to high adventure. Never once did he think to admire and say, “Anna, you’re up. You must be feeling better.” All Freddy’s thoughts be big: changing the world, ending slavery, talking to the president. This be good. But I wished he’d stay focused on the small. Take into account I’d raised my children in Rochester, buried one.

  “It’s near Baltimore. Talbot County. You can visit your Mam.”

  “She’s dead. I told you so.” He looked away, flushed.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” He stooped, both hands on my knees. “You’ll be nearer to the shore. Nearer those bones you’ve told me about.”

  I clasped his hands. I wasn’t sure I’d the spirit to start over. I was comfortable here. In Rochester. Ain’t perfect. But good enough. I had my house. My garden. But I didn’t say any of this. With Annie dead, what did it matter where I be?

  I say, “Fine, Freddy. Just fine.”

  He stood tall, proud as ever. A little more stout. Grayer. Still, he was Samson-man, standing, perched on the edge of his horizon.

  I touched his back. Now clothed in fine wool rather than burlap. But I knew if I pressed hard enough, I’d feel the scars on his back. “Freddy.” I wanted to tell him how much I admired and loved him. Wanted to say it in a way that meant something. That he’d hear. Say it lovely like his speeches.

  “Freddy.” I tugged his sleeve but he didn’t turn. “Freddy,” I say again.

  “This is a fine time in history, Anna. Fine time to be colored in America. This time next year, slaves are going to be free.”

  My face felt hot. I wanted him to acknowledge we’d done some good together. Raised a fine family.

  “In a month, Anna,” he said. “Be ready to move in a month.”

  Words bubbled out my throat. “How big this house? Big enough for Miz Assing?” I wanted to call them back, instead I fell into a fit of coughing.

  Freddy handed me a glass of water.

  Twelve summers she’d visited my house like a haint.

  “No,” he said, surprising me. “No room for Miss Assing.”

  And I surprised myself by feeling almost sorry for Miz Assing. Freddy done said good-bye. Flat. Done gone. She’d a taste of my bitter medicine.

  Then, he turned sharply, walked to the door, and ever so gently, closed it while whispering, “Rest, Anna. Annie would want you to rest.”

  I exhaled, let myself fall back upon the pillow, feeling tension lift off me like a cloud. Like Freddy said, Annie would’ve wanted me to rest. So I did. More contented than I’d ever felt in a good long while.

  Rochester

  Fort Sumter’s been fired upon. War’s here! War’s here!”

  Lewis and his friends hollered like Christ had risen. My sons—Freddy Junior, Charles, Lewis—dashed off to Washington. Didn’t know if there’d be a colored troop. But they wanted to beg enlistment. Wanted to beg their chance to die. “Bless me, Mother”; “Give me a kiss”; “It’ll be finished by Christmas”; and they were gone. Rosetta left, too. She planned to nurse the wounded, to “take care of Father” at Cedar Hill until I came. She was a good girl. A good help. Freddy insisted he’d have Lincoln’s ear. “Colored dignity demands it.” If he was younger, I know he’d pick up the sword. But he was going to slay the world with words. Bend justice to his will. “Bye,” I said. “Bye.” And I didn’t once let them see me cry.

  Each morning, I sniffed the air, sensing blood. Mister Death going to be busy, busy. He’d have no time for me. “Make time,” I prayed, “if it’ll save Freddy’s life. Save the lives of my children.” But Death didn’t answer; so, I sang songs to the bones. Spoke prayers to God. Sunup. Midday. Twilight.

  I rambled about the house and fields. Everyone was gone. And I was glad. Sometimes I saw Annie drawing quick, bright pictures of the garden. Or Mam poking about the kitchen. I nodded, Mam nodded back. Annie always waved with a wide smile.

  I went about my business, glad I didn’t have to explain myself, muster the strength to be polite. I could be me. Alone with my thoughts and feelings. Alone with my ghosts.

  Alone, pretending America was at peace. My children, visiting friends. My husband, giving a speech.

  Some days, seemed like nothing in the world mattered. Other days, everything mattered. One minute, I felt cheery. Next, I was crying. Everything, a sign.

  Outside my kitchen window, a baby crow fell from its nest. It didn’t die. Just lay in the dirt ’til I picked it up. Though I held it warm by the fire, fed it worms, it still died. A calico showed up on my doorstep, looking for all the world like Lena. I cooed, “Kitty, kitty.” She stayed for two days, warming my feet at night in bed. Then, she just sauntered away. And yesterday, I saw a man slip in the market and I felt like I’d caused it. Like I’d pushed him with my two hands when I knew I hadn’t.

  I studied myself in the mirror, wearing black, which didn’t flatter me. But Annie’s death was still raw. Seeing the old woman in the mirror made me wonder, “Where’s Lil’ Bit? Where’d she go?” A blink of time. My young world gone.

  I cleaned the house from top to bottom. Whoever bought it, I wanted them to know, colored folks had pride. I scrubbed and scrubbed even though my hands and back ached. I cleaned out the pantry, collected the children’s toys, books and gave them to the church. I dried flowers and herbs from my garden. I took those dried plants and scented me and Freddy’s bedroom with them. Sprinkled dried roses on the bed. Rosemary in the drawers. Jonquils on the window ledge. It’d been a long time since I’d been held. A long time of me laying in bed, longing for a touch.

  I hadn’t forgotten what loving once meant between me and Freddy. What loving meant for my body, my heart.

  I said my prayers into my pillow and cried for my old, shriveled-up body. Stark as midnight, I realized nobody was ever going to touch me no more. I be a woman with a woman’s feelings. Freddy showed me the way, but it was me who did the feeling. Me who allowed passion to claim my body. Like drowning.

  Something I never admitted before—I was born for loving. How else explain why I let Freddy take me before marriage? Take me all those years even when I knew about his unfaithfulness? Over fifty now and I know the passion still be inside me. My body.

  I was meant for loving and Freddy never enjoyed all I had to give.

  I never betrayed Freddy. He betrayed me.

  Freddy was the man to make my love blossom. He just never had the time. Instead of feeling sorry, I felt peaceful. Like I finally knew who I be. Freddy sacrificed more than he knew. Freddy who knew so much, who could debate, read all the pages in a
book, didn’t know me. Didn’t know I be an ocean.

  I heard a carriage pull up in front of the house. My heart raced, thinking maybe Rosetta came to support her old Mam. Or maybe, just maybe, it be Freddy coming to tell me I didn’t need to leave for Cedar Hill. Love be true.

  I breathed deep, smoothed my dress and hair. Morning sun made diamonds on the floor. I pressed a kiss to my wedding ring. “Freddy,” I murmured.

  But opening the front door, I didn’t see the sweet brown of my husband. Saw instead Miz Assing, all white and shiny like a silk handkerchief freshly laundered and starched.

  I folded myself up, wrapped my heart in lamb’s wool and nearly cried.

  Miz Assing had aged. Wrinkles were on her face just like mine. My hair had streaked white; her blond tresses had turned to silver. Funny, Freddy looked younger than us both. I hoped Miz Assing dried up like a prune. But she’d be a golden one. I couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.

  But I was beautiful, too. Just different. I remembered Pa saying, “Dark coffee be best.” Mam saying, “Your inside-self be your glory.”

  Seeing Miz Assing made my stomach sick. Made me think Freddy done sent her to say good-bye. Did he lie? Was there room for her and not for me at Cedar Hill? I almost wailed.

  I watched her eyes. She didn’t flinch. For the first time, she and I be alone. Nobody else around, in my house. I could say and do whatever I pleased.

  “Good morning, Anna,” she said boldly. Her voice less harsh.

  “Morning,” I said, keeping my manners. No sense forsaking pride.

  “You’ve been ill.”

  I stepped back. A colored woman would’ve been more polite, said I looked well even if it weren’t true.

  “May I speak with Douglass?”

  My hand slapped the porch rail. “Freddy ain’t here. He’s speaking with President Lincoln. Making big plans.”

  “He is? Yes, of course, he is.” There was no sass in her voice. Something else—a longing? Sorrow maybe?

  “You’ve been ill. May I come in, Anna? Fix you tea?”

  “I can get it.” And I did. Turned around and walked through the front door. I could hear the soft patter of Miz Assing’s slippers on the floor. My knees and knuckles ached. I’d wanted to take the tea to my bedroom, lay down and rest. But I didn’t want Miz Assing to think she’d run me out of my own kitchen. Didn’t want her to think I was afraid of her.

  “Sugar?” Miz Assing took some and I was surprised. Thought she’d drink it strong. Black.

  I sat and stared at Miz Assing’s blue-vein hands, holding my best china cup. You could easily prick her vein, make her bleed. She sipped from the cup; on the rim, was pink. I was shocked. No man to lure here. But then she’d expected to find Freddy.

  “Humpf.” I shifted in my seat, glad to see Miz Assing’s hands trembling.

  We sat across from each other at my kitchen table. But we weren’t facing each other. Not really. We were looking at my garden. Looking at the ball of sun, high up from the horizon. A bright, brand new day. Looking at the birds perched on a tree. Looking everywhere ’cept in each other’s eyes.

  “You waiting for me to die?”

  “No, Anna. I’m not. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”

  “You telling me, if I was dead, you wouldn’t marry him?” I glanced sideways, Miz Assing’s mouth was buried in her lace collar. “Don’t matter what I feel, then?”

  “No, it does. But I can’t help what I feel.”

  I wanted to smack her. Hit her across her mouth, breasts, and face. “People ain’t animals. You never learned anything that wasn’t in books.”

  “What other learning is there?”

  Her blue eyes stared straight into mine, something twisted inside me. I could tell she was ignorant. Ignorant, like Miz Baldwin, of a colored woman’s feelings. But unlike Miz Baldwin, she was sincere. She really wanted to know.

  “Passion. I think you’ve learned that.”

  “Yes.”

  I acted like I didn’t hear. “Sharing Freddy’s bed ain’t in books. For a while, you climbed in the bed right with us. But I pushed you out. Each time I tried to love as best I knew how. Tried to take what I needed. Tried to give what I could. You understand?”

  “Yes. I did the same. But Douglass, Anna, I mean Freddy—”

  “—don’t call him that.”

  “I’m sorry. But Douglass is a free man. Even as a slave, his heart was his own.”

  “Little things.”

  “What?”

  “I was thinking of my Mam. She taught me love was ‘little things.’ Not big words or books of poetry but fresh-baked bread, a hand on your back. A kind word. A good laugh.

  “Taught me the earth brimmed with learning. Soil that healed, nurtured food and flowers. But it was the sea, said my Mam, that brimmed with the spirit-bones, lost souls who never had a chance at life or love.”

  “Oluwand,” Miz Assing whispered like a breeze.

  I didn’t answer. I was seeing Mam sitting in my garden, snapping green beans for supper. Crabs, swimming in a bucket, were beside her. “Lost souls living in the ocean’s cold bottom. Lost souls who gloried in colored people living their lives full and complete.”

  “Lost souls who gloried in all people? Do you think, Anna? Lost souls who gloried in all people living their lives full and complete?”

  “You’ve seen the bones?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I saw Oluwand, a slave girl, drown herself. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen her. She used to haunt me. No, that’s not quite right. She used to live, be with me, appearing at the oddest times. I haven’t seen her in a long while. Not since I left Rosetta at school. Strange, sometimes I saw Oluwand and you.”

  “What you think she wanted?”

  Miz Assing didn’t answer. She went to the window, pressed her hands and brow against the pane. Like she was looking for something, yet trapped behind strong glass.

  “See,” I said. “All this time, you never learned.”

  “My mother tried to teach me things beyond books. Tried to explain that mutual love was the highest love. Divine.”

  “Does Freddy love you?”

  Miz Assing paled and her hands trembled like they’d a will of their own.

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  She shook her head.

  I laughed. I didn’t mean to but I did, loud and clear. Insulted, poor Miz Assing who brushed past me, eager to go.

  “Please.” I caught her hand. “I’m not laughing at you. But at the two of us.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sit down.” I leaned forward, poured more tea like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I never knew if Freddy loved me, either. He never said, never did little things. Not truly. Not from his heart. Maybe he felt he had to marry me. But didn’t really want to. You, he wanted. That’s what hurt. I thought he choose you over me. I thought he must love you, but now I see Freddy never really learned to love.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. Miz Assing. German woman. Smart. Unloved.

  She bobbed her head down like a baby bird. “I haven’t heard from Douglass in over a year. My letters are returned.” She started weeping. No sound. Tears just welled and fell. Slid down her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Didn’t seem to mind I was seeing them.

  “Poor Miz Assing.”

  “Ottilie, please.”

  I said as gently as I could: “But we ain’t friends.”

  “No,” she said, mournful, “and never will be.”

  Miz Assing, with all her book-learning, was worse off than me. I was free. She be chained by love. Locked in a jail, not knowing whether Freddy’d ever let her out. Worse, she came to America to free the slaves and became herself enslaved. By a great man. The great abolitionist. But he just a man. Mam and Pa had taught me when to lay it all down, let it go. Time came to walk on. To turn heartache into strength.

  Miz Assing be hanging on to the bitter end. Hanging on until m
y death. Hanging on for Freddy to prove his love with marriage.

  “Drink your tea,” I said. “Forget Freddy.”

  For a long while, we sat in silence. The sun rose higher and higher, showering us with light, rainbows on the floor. Of all the rooms, the kitchen soothed me best. Even when clouds graced the sky, light still poured in. Light to cook by, think by. Light to make my garden grow.

  “I’m sorry Annie died.”

  “Thank you.” But she ain’t gone. Maybe tonight, Annie will come running up the stairs and sit in the rocker by my bed. She’ll sit beside me all night while I sleep.

  “I must go now.”

  Miz Assing stood, face pinched tight, lips dry, her dignity cloaked about her. “Look, Anna. Do you see her?” She moved quick, opening the screen door. Her mouth open, shaped into an O. She stood riveted like a wood plank on the porch. “Do you see her?”

  A young black woman, smiling, was standing beside my Mam. “Bones-woman,” I sighed.

  Miz Assing hesitated. “Anna, do you know what she wants?”

  “She telling you to get on with it. Live your life. Find happiness where and while you can.”

  “You think so?”

  I smiled. “I know so. Mam don’t keep company with just anybody.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good luck to you,” I said. And I meant it.

  On the other side of the screen door, she paused. “I’m glad Freddy wasn’t here. I’m pleased to have met you, Anna.”

  I didn’t follow. I stayed on the back porch, staring through the screen, watching her silver head bob, her white gown sway until I couldn’t see her no more. I heard the front door open, then shut. She was leaving the house where she’d spent over a dozen summers. Her home, too, in a way. I wondered after she climbed into the carriage whether she looked back. Or forward. I heard the the “hiyah” of the driver. Imagined the horses’ hooves kicking up dust.

  I turned back to my garden. Mam was beckoning me down from the porch. All day, we worked, side by side, weeding, harvesting the tenderest greens. The sweetest peas. The bones-woman, Oluwand, had the biggest smile. Sometimes she plucked plants; other times, she just swirled, her dress snapping at her ankles and knees. When twilight come, Mam shook her bucket. Blue crabs snapped, clicked, crawled atop one another. Oluwand took a stick and dug a hole. Shallow and wide. She laid twigs on it, dry grass, and clean branches. The setting sun lit the fire.