The Slave Master's Son

by Laveen, Tiana

  “I’ll get it over wit’ quick,” he said in almost a whisper. Hannah felt his heavy body over her as he braced his weight with his arms before parting her thighs open with his large, heavy hands. She felt him push inside her. She closed her eyes and tried to disappear within the recesses of golden memories from when she was a little girl, running happily through Master Stewart’s house with John. Her tears and whimpering became intensified.

  “I’ll never forgive myself,” she finally muttered. “Henry?” she said as he continued to make love to her.

  “Yes,” he responded, slightly out of breath.

  “Do you mind if I call you John while we do this? It’ll just make it easier for me.”

  “I don’t mind. This whole time I’ve been pretendin’ you were Carole, anyway.” They both smiled weakly in the darkness, embracing one another tightly.

  “John, I love you,” Hannah whispered.

  “Carole, I love you too,” Henry whispered back. Hannah felt the familiar final lunge she’d become accustomed to with her beloved. She thanked the heavens it was finally over. Henry rolled over, covered in sweat. He fell quickly asleep, leaving Hannah swimming in her own daydreams as she pretended the throbbing between her legs was a gift from John until they should meet again.

  * * *

  “And that’s how you gut it!” Henry explained as he held the large, dripping, silver-scaled fish over Hannah’s head. She screamed and laughed, running away into the corner of the house.

  “You such a good cook, I can’t believe you squeamish over this here fish,” Henry laughed, slapping his leg.

  “I’ll cook it for you,” Hannah reassured. Henry sat down on the bed with the alphabet sheet. Hannah wiped her hands, winced, and finished cleaning the fish before dropping it into the big pot of grease.

  “E – Eat – Egg,” Henry said aloud. “I can remember these as long as they pertain to food.” They both laughed. Hannah threw a skinned potato in the pot and wiped her face.

  “You sure are pretty as a flower. Look at all that long, pretty hair,” Henry complimented as he watched her clean the grime. “I sure bet your husband liked it. Most the women out this way keep their hair up. We never get to see it down. I seen Carole’s down once. It was a lot like yours, just not as long.”

  “What does Carole look like?” Hannah asked as she plopped down in her sewing seat.

  “She ’bout as pretty as you – maybe prettier. She looks like a dream. I see her all the time, but we don’t get as much time together. She know you and I are together, and she don’t like it.”

  “I suppose not. She loves you. When you love someone, you don’t want to share ’em with other people,” Hannah explained. “Women are funny like that. We fall in love and then the thought of that man even looking at another woman can make us want to jump off a cliff. We love hard and deep.” Hannah drifted into thought, closing her eyes and pressing her hand over her heart.

  “I told her it was just for now and that you know all about her, and you don’t want no parts of me. She was still angry though, but I think it helped a smidge.”

  “I hope it did. I’d hate for her to be upset with me,” Hannah said as she walked back over to the oven.

  “She not mad at you. She just mad at everything that happened. She knows I’ll be back,” Henry reassured himself.

  “What’s your husband like?” he asked as he looked down intensely at the letter ‘E.’”

  “He’s handsome. He’s tall and smart. He’s funny, too.” Hannah smiled dreamily.

  “I hope you get to see him again one day, but with you being out here and him all the way in Richmond, it don’t seem highly likely.”

  “I know. I guess we can always dream though, right?” Hannah asked, crying to herself. Her tears fell into the hot grease, making it pop. The fish bobbed around to the top, crispy and golden. She removed it and set it on a plate, cutting it into halves. Hannah cut the sweet potato into thin slices and poured a little melted butter onto it. She handed Henry a plate and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. They both ate while she helped him with the letter ‘E.’

  Henry was soon asleep as Hannah worked diligently on a new dress. It was a light pink, one of her favorite colors. Her eyes began to get heavy as she tried to stay on course to no avail. Finally, she stretched and yawned and wearily stood up. She slowly dimmed the room and removed her clothing. Sliding under the quilt, she pretended John was caressing her shoulder. A few moments later, she felt Henry stir. She rolled her eyes and thought, “It’s been two weeks straight.” Her temple ached for John, but all she got was Henry who, even in the dark, couldn’t suffice.

  She followed their schedule, opening her legs while he slid on top of her. Hannah felt his heavy body bobbing up and down. She listened to his quiet moans and him calling her “Carole.” She rejoiced internally as she felt the final lunge that she prayed for nightly. Soon, Henry was back to sleep and Hannah was once again left with her land of make believe, showered in Richmond sunshine and feeling the soft caress of John’s cheek.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  “Master Washington! Come quick! Hannah’s sick!” Henry urged as he banged on his door at two o’clock in the morning. Master Washington threw on his coat and ran swiftly to the tiny house with Henry leading the way, the sun rising on both their backs. Hannah lay in the middle of the floor with a bucket. The color had run from of her once vibrant face. Her long, twisted, coarse hair was disheveled. Master Washington walked over to her.

  “What seems to be the problem, Hannah?” he asked kindly.

  “I – I don’t know. My stomach hurts something awful. I have a headache too.”

  “Hannah,” Master Washington whispered in her ear, “did you get your monthly?” Hannah shook her head “no” as she continued to grip her stomach. Master Washington smiled.

  “Should it have been here by now?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

  “I suppose so. I never kept good record of it.” Henry poured her a cup of water and handed it to her. She drank small sips and winced.

  “I’m no doctor. We’ll have one check you out later this morning, but I presume you’re pregnant, my dear!” Master Stewart smiled from ear to ear. “Get in the bed and rest. I’ll bring you some tea.” He left the tiny house, leaving Hannah and Henry there looking concerned at one another.

  “Well, we knew it’d happen sooner or later,” Henry smiled weakly. “I s’pose we don’t need to do that anymore. I know Carole will be happy.” He got back under the sheets and went to sleep. Hannah rubbed her stomach and grimaced, tossing and turning the rest of the morning. While she slept, Master Washington placed a cup of tea down and snuck back out of the house. In the early afternoon, the doctor examined her.

  “Yes, you’re pregnant. These things are never exact. You’re early-on, though. Your sickness should get better over the coming weeks. Drink milk. It tends to help,” he said nonchalantly as Master Washington stood back and observed. Henry was asked to wait outside.

  “That’s just splendid,” Master Washington responded. “Now, Hannah, I’m going to have to take extra special care of you. Any type of fruit you want – you name it. I’ll make sure you have it. We need you healthy and strong.” The doctor gathered his belongings and left the house. Hannah fought the tears that left her feeling broken and defenseless.

  “I don’t want to hate this baby,” she thought to herself.

  “John, I’m so sorry!” she screamed high into the heavens. At last the tears swam from her eyes. She cradled herself tightly, rocking through the night.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 12

  “And you’ll be the best lawyer this side of the county!” exclaimed Master Williams as he lifted his glass in a toast. “I hear you got back from New York again – heard you’ve been going frequently. That a boy! Get all the education and business skills you can! Any babies on the horizon?” he asked as John held Gayle close to his side. Gayle smiled.

  “No,
not yet Mr. Williams.” John lifted his glass and gulped down the alcohol, avoiding direct eye contact. Before he could finish swallowing, he was looking around for more. His eyes canvassed the massive room but were greeted only with a sea of people that he despised. Mary had taken ill over the past few months, and John was increasingly worried about her. He excused himself from his wife and walked up the steps, leaving the party in his honor behind as he gently knocked upon her door.

  “Come in,” Mary said weakly. John pushed the door open and walked inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

  “Hello, Mama Mary. It’s me – John,” he said humbly.

  “Boy, I’m sick – not dead. I know who it is,” she laughed. “Come sit by me.” She patted the bed. John approached and sat on the bed next to her. He instinctually rubbed her hair in a soothing way.

  “I haven’t seen you in – it seems forever,” she said as she looked up at him breathlessly. “You grow more and more handsome each day. My Hannah thought the sun rose and set on your back.” Mary coughed, suddenly aware of what she’d said. John helped her sit up more comfortably.

  “I’m sorry, John. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

  “That’s OK, Mama Mary. I think the same of her,” John said, trying to control his reaction.

  “I’m glad you came up to see me.” Mary slowly closed her eyes.

  “Do you need a glass of water?” He walked to the sink, picked up a glass, hand washed it, and filled it before he heard her answer. He returned, handing it to her, but held on to it, guiding the precious drops into her dry mouth.

  “That’s it, Mama Mary, drink the whole glass. I bet you’re parched.” He set the glass on the nightstand. To the left he saw Hannah’s bed. Mary hadn’t touched it since she was taken away. The sheets were just as Hannah had them and so were her personal effects.

  “I want to apologize to you for getting your daughter into trouble. If I would’ve just left her alone, this wouldn’t have happened,” John said with sorrow in his voice. Mary looked at him and gripped his chin, bringing his face close to hers.

  “Don’t you ever apologize for lovin’ my daughter. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” she whispered.

  “I feel as though I failed her. Everything I said wouldn’t happen, in fact, has.” John hung his head.

  “Well, John, you gave it a good fight. You tried. If you and your father had kept fightin’, somebody would’ve ended up in a bad way. I could see you didn’t want to hurt him. That’s how he got the upper hand. He’s still your father. We can’t pick our kinfolk.”

  “I heard about Mason, too.” John changed the topic.

  “Yes, he was a good man. He’s in Heaven now. He’s free from all this now. Hannah cried when she got the news.” John perked up.

  “You spoke to Hannah!” he asked, standing up. Mary looked up at him in amazement.

  “I shouldn’t have let that slip, John. I keep speaking when I should keep my mouth shut.”

  “I promise not to utter a word. Tell me all you know,” John begged.

  “I see you still care,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “Of course I still care. I feel in my heart she and I are husband and wife. I love her! That wedding wasn’t for show. It was real. I gave her a ring. I had plans for us. Please, I beg you, tell me how she’s doing.” John sat next to Mary, hanging on to her every word.

  “She’s fine, just fine. She writes me letters and Master Stewart reads ’em to me.”

  “How kind of him!” John said sarcastically. “Did she ask about me?” he asked sadly.

  “Honestly, she didn’t. I think she realized she just had to move on.” Mary patted John’s hand as he looked down towards his feet.

  “I got more news you ain’t gonna like, but I’ll tell you ’cause you have the right to know. She gonna have a baby. She livin’ wit’ a slave by the name of ‘Joseph Henry,’ but from my understandin’, he go by ‘Henry’ only. He’s a blacksmith. The baby gonna be here soon,” Mary said with a bittersweet smile. John stood up. His head felt light. His stomach tensed up, and he felt wobbly. Mary looked at him closely and slowly managed to lift her tired body out of bed.

  “OK now. Sit back down, you hear? Try to breathe.” She picked up a letter and fanned him as he crumbled to the floor, looking at his knees.

  “I think I better go now,” he finally uttered. Mary got back into bed and watched as John left.

  She shook her head and prayed, “Lord, please grant that young man strength.” She turned and fell asleep as John descended the steps in a daze.

  * * *

  Two weeks later…

  “I’ve been feeling mighty funny,” Gayle said giddily as she spoke to her mother on the front porch. Mrs. Douglass grinned from ear to ear.

  “I know it’s a baby, Gayle! This is fantastic news!” Mrs. Douglass beamed.

  “I just know it is, too. I’m going to see the doctor today. I hope it’s a girl. I always wanted a little girl,” Gayle said sweetly as she looked up into the air.

  John tipped his large, brown hat to his mother-in-law as he made his way past. He was on his way to his father’s home to gather the rest of his guns. John declared he was going hunting the following morning with a friend of his, then got on his bicycle and pedaled away, the wind whipping his hair side-to-side. He felt as if he was living in some strange bubble. He went through the motions but never felt complete on any given day.

  “I exist – I don’t live,” he thought to himself as he continued to ride. He wasn’t sure why he was on the bike since he rarely rode, but it just seemed fitting for his mood. He arrived at his father’s house and walked up the familiar front porch with quick, determined steps. His thoughts immediately drifted to carrying Hannah up them, her wet hair touching his face, the soft curls tickling his pronounced jawbone. He snapped out of his daydream as he saw Mary sweeping the porch.

  “Ahhh, you’re up and about.” John smiled as he walked towards her.

  “Yes, I needed some fresh air. I’m still quite ill though, but stayin’ in there felt worse. You rode a bike? I ain’t seen you on a bike in years!” she laughed. John nodded, then approached the door to go inside when he felt Mary grab his arm. He looked at her with concern.

  “John, Hannah asked about you in her last letter. Master Stewart didn’t lemme see it, but I could see your name and a question mark by it. I can’t read that good, but I knows a little bit and I know what I saw. I can recognize all the books in the Bible. Since ‘John’ is one of those books, I knew it was you. I’m going to go see her tomorrow mornin’. That’s all I’m saying.” Mary let go of his arm and continued sweeping. John smirked. He felt his blood start moving in his veins again. He wondered if his sudden desire to ride that old bike was his soul’s way of telling him he was going to feel like a kid again soon.

  “Happy day,” he said to himself as he opened the door. John entered and greeted his father. He then ascended to his old bedroom. He noticed things that were amiss and disheveled.

  “He’s been in my room,” John said aloud in anger. He began to walk over to his gun rack when he stopped momentarily and looked at his dresser. Running wax trailed in twisted, ivory knots. He rubbed his head as he recalled the candles burning all night as he and Hannah shared their first lovemaking experience together right there under those quilts that lay folded atop his bed now. He pictured Mason standing there, guiding them through their vows and the golden ring he held for his beloved Hannah. He closed his eyes as he reminisced about the way her skin smelled. He snapped back into reality, shaking off the comforting thoughts to complete the task at hand. John gathered his guns and placed them in a sack which he wrapped around his body. He headed back down the stairs, said goodbye to some of the servants, and rode back home in record speed. The sun was setting. He smiled as his body filled with anticipation. Air suddenly smelled fresh again. That evening John practiced shooting his rifles. He reviewed every detail of his plan, a plan that had been in the making for months. It was about t
o be implemented.

  “I’ll see you soon, my dearest Hannah,” he said aloud as he shot another bottle. He reloaded and placed three more bottles as targets. Just then, something caught his eye. He ran frantically through the thick brush, lifting his gun. A shot rang out, deafening anything within earshot. A bloody rabbit lay on the ground, its eyes fixated. John walked over to the rabbit and scooped it up by the ears. His boots sank into the moist soil. He headed toward the kitchen. Gayle sat at the table reading her Bible. Her face turned to horror as he threw the reddened rabbit onto the table in front of her.

  “Shave it. Clean it. Cook it,” John ordered as he looked down at her. Her hazel eyes grew wide. She looked at the blood on the table and her Bible, then back up at John.

  “Dear, that’s what Savannah is for. She’ll cook dinner. If you want rabbit, then she can…”

  “No! I want you to do it.” John’s eyes burned. “You do absolutely nothing. It’s the least you can do instead of being so indolent. You’re spoiled!” he shouted. “You so desperately want to be a wife – then cook!” Gayle hung her head, afraid to make eye contact. She slumped in her chair and began to cry. John sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Oh, Lord, not the crying,” he sighed. “What are you crying about?”

  “Please don’t yell at me John. I think I’m in a – family way.” John turned away, crossing his arms over his strapping chest. He looked out the window, daydreaming. His thoughts drifted to a time when he was a child, free and naive. He longed for those days right then. John exhaled and turned back to his wife.