The Slave Master's Son

by Laveen, Tiana

  “I took the liberty to take Father a plate a few minutes ago. He had no desire to join us,” John said solemnly. Mary nodded in understanding. Hannah picked up a large, clear bowl filled to the brim with mashed sweet potatoes. The aroma of rich butter, brown sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon bombarded the dining room in a delicious avalanche of scents. Just then the doorbell rang. Hannah slowly stood up, straightening out her apron.

  “I invited Opal,” she said quietly as she excused herself and made her way to the door. After brief chatter, Opal came into the room smelling like a perfumery and looking ravishing in layers of pale pink spun thread, shining brightly in the chandelier lit room. She removed her gloves, placing them inside of her purse as she approached the dining room table.

  “Wonderful to see you again, John and Mama Mary,” she said. John quickly rose and pulled out a chair for her. Opal politely sat down and immediately poured herself a glass of wine. She smiled nervously as she heard the doctor leaving the house.

  “Opal, there’s plenty here. Please help yourself,” Hannah said while quickly nibbling on a slice of bread. She passed down the sweet potatoes and pointed to the large fried fish in the middle of the table which was adorned with fresh lemon slices. Hannah smiled inside as she thought about Henry briefly, the man who’d taught her how to gut a fish.

  “Well, the food looks wonderful, and I can’t wait. Thank you for inviting me,” Opal stated as she put her wine glass down.

  “Your husband was invited, too,” Hannah said as she situated Phoebe on her lap. “Could he not make it?” Hannah asked.

  “He sends his apologies. He has a mountain of work to complete before the end of the day,” Opal smiled. The upstairs bedroom door opened slowly, a sliding sound of dishes followed, then the door closed again securely. Hannah gulped and averted eye contact with her husband. A muffled cough from the upstairs bedroom soon followed. Everyone sat quietly, eating with little conversation. The doctor returned as Hannah was clearing the table. John sat in the middle of the floor with Phoebe and Jonathan, rolling a ball back and forth and laughing. Mary stood in the foyer speaking with him, her facial expression appearing placid. Opal stood in the kitchen with Hannah, dumping back another glass of wine and gossiping. Mary escorted the doctor close to John. He looked up, his light blue eyes trying to read between the lines before his ears were forced to hear it. John smiled weakly and handed the small yellow ball to Jonathan and stood up. The doctor cleared his throat.

  “John, I was explaining to Mary here the status. I thought I’d come in and speak to you in an effort to not appear redundant. Your father could go at any time. His chest airways are barely functioning. It’s a miracle that he’s still able to stand up and walk a little. I give him no more than one week. In the meantime, make sure he stays warm and in bed. There’s nothing more that can be done. May the Lord be with you.” The doctor patted John’s arm, handed him a prescription for pain medication, and walked out of the house. Mary rubbed her eyes and slumped down in a chair while John rubbed his forehead and fought angry tears. His face turned crimson and he felt his heart palpitating.

  “Don’t say anything to Hannah yet,” John whispered, wiping his nose. “It’s bad enough already. I knew that this was coming. To hear the final timeline’s – hopeless.” Mary nodded her head and dabbed the corners of her eyes. She hung her head low, turning to the side every so often as she drifted in memorial thoughts. She rocked in her seat, and quietly hummed, tearing up, dabbing the tears away then starting again. John peered into the kitchen as he got back down on the floor with the children. He half focused as he rolled the ball to his son while occasionally looking up at Opal, and Hannah smiling and laughing. Soon the sun was set and Mary kissed her daughter on the cheek, said farewell to Opal and made her way upstairs to sleep in Jonathan’s bedroom, taking the children along.

  “Mama, please sleep in our bedroom. I asked you before,” Hannah said weakly as she watched her mother cart the two youngsters in her arms, up the steps.

  “I said ‘no,’ and I won’t have another word about it, Hannah. I’ll be fine. Just stay by your husband,” Mary said as she finished her destination, closing the child’s bedroom door behind her.

  “John, speak to me. What’s on your mind?” Hannah finally asked after Opal excused herself to step out onto the front stoop.

  “Just the usual, Hannah. Father isn’t doing well and I…I just am not handling it the way I thought I would,” John explained. Hannah patted John’s back and disappeared up the steps. Fifteen minutes later she emerged, helping Master Stewart down the winding stairs. John looked up and saw Master Stewart faintly smile as Hannah helped him into a chair.

  “Thank you, Hannah,” Master Stewart said weakly. John took notice of the rapid weight loss over the past few weeks, the age spots and wrinkles he hadn’t seemed to notice previously, and his father’s thick streaks of light silver hair.

  “Master Stewart, I think John wanted to see you around us, your family,” Hannah smiled.

  “Where are my grandbabies?” Master Stewart asked, forcing a grin.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Master Stewart. Mama took them to bed with her. I can go get them though.” Hannah turned to go up the steps when he abruptly grabbed her arm.

  “No, no. Let those babies sleep. Don’t disturb their slumber on account of me.” Silence soon filled the room and colored the walls in shades of forlornness. The sun completely left the sky, offering a thin sliver of the moon in its place. Hannah left and returned with a thick quilt she’d sewn. Master Stewart soon fell asleep, his head lolling about and the nasally snores he was known for, gave a peaceful familiarity to John as he watched his father’s slouched disposition with a heavy heart. Hours passed with only the sound of the clock ticking breaking the stillness. Opal, now nursing a slight hangover, slept in a chair near the front door, her knocked knees buckling together as her slender body contorted into what was her favorite semi-fetal sleeping position. Hannah lay beside her, dozing on and off. When her eyes fluttered open once more, she saw John still staring intensely at his father. It was as if he were counting his breaths.

  “Is this the last one? Are there more to come?” his mind appeared to be contemplating. Though obviously tired, he was running on adrenaline. He was terrified he would miss the final moment and never be able to speak to, or see Master Stewart’s chest rise and fall again. John peered closely at his father, leaning over. He saw the shiny clear glimmer of a teardrop forming in each of his eyes.

  “What are you dreaming of, Father?” John thought to himself as he stood up and walked over to Hannah. She knew instinctively what he wanted. Without any verbal exchange, she slowly and quietly rose, going up the steps. John looked at Opal then walked back over to his father, this time sitting closer to him, yet still in observation mode. He heard Hannah’s soft footsteps coming down the staircase. Her familiar walk, the swift yet elastic choppiness of her steps was all too familiar. As she passed the foyer window, she took notice of the sun rising. In the distance, rich water colors of orange, purple, and pastel blue blanketed the sky. The soft chirping of young birds entered into the musical number previously mixed with various snores and the clock’s tick tock tune. Hannah folded the blanket over again in her arms. She looked closer, and through the rays of the splendid display, she spotted the silhouettes of three people. All of them tall, one hobbled. They approached from across the street, steadfast and cautious, their movements eerily familiar. The sun bathed them in innovation and crisp morning dew, covering their skin in glistening gold kisses with fuchsia cloud lace lining. As the small crowd came closer, Hannah gasped. She immediately stepped over Opal’s dainty ankles and shook John’s shoulder. Her eyes large, she abruptly took him by the hand and hurried him to the scene being painted right before them. John peered out of the window in bewilderment until his eyes suddenly fixated on what he was brought there to view. Hannah looked up at him, waiting. He looked down at her, smiled and embraced her so tightly she gasped at the strength that
swept her nearly off of her feet.

  “It’s them,” he confirmed breathlessly. He looked back out the window and watched them descend swiftly, steadily, deliberately, and reminiscently of marching soldiers towards his front steps. One with light-blue, twin eyes, her dark hair in spirals and her skin the color of ripe bananas, one with dark-brown eyes and flowing dark-brown hair that was pinned astutely back, brandishing her majestic and forceful features and the last, hopping with his cane, gaunt, and clothing two sizes too large. He was covered in fresh sobriety and a look of sheer determination, obviously ignoring his immense physical pain.

  Before Sarah could knock, John swung open the door, letting the breezy air smack him in the face as her beautiful copper skin glowed like it was on fire right before his eyes. Several strands of her shiny hair had escaped the beautiful pinned clip and moved across her face like black, liquid waves. Her eyes narrowed, and then softened. Jonah, silent, nodded to John and slowly removed his hat. Mary stood between her two siblings, expressionless despite her heaving bosom and her blood pumping a mile a minute causing her cheeks to turn deep, ruby red. John took a picture of them in his mind.

  The sun continued to finish rising behind them until she was done with her upward, vertical ballet of renewal, Godly power and life. She kissed each of their heads, breathed love into their spirits, and then ushered them inside, wrapping them in warmth of new beginnings.

  * * *

  About the Author

  Tiana Laveen was born in Cincinnati, Ohio and now resides in Kentucky with her husband, two children, and feline companion. She enjoys a fulfilling and enriching life that includes writing books, drawing, painting, listening to music, cooking, and spending time with friends.

  Tiana Laveen is a uniquely creative and innovative author whose romance fiction is geared towards those who not only want to temporarily escape from the daily routines of life, but also delve into social taboo as it pertains to interracial relationships. Tiana creates a painting with words as she guides her reader into the lives of each and every main character.

  Her first book series entitled Cross Climax tackles interracial dating, marriage, and sexual relationships head on without any false bravado. Cross Climax I and Cross Climax II allow the reader to dive headfirst into short stories that are packed with seduction, romance, and heart-pounding punch. The two novels in conjunction lead to a surprising, but fulfilling conclusion.

  Her third novel, The Slave Master’s Son, transports readers back to a time and place where interracial relationships were not accepted by the dominant society. The novel delivers a scintillating, historical account of one family’s struggles to deal with love, lust, and consequences.

  If you wish to contact Tiana Laveen, please send an email message to tianalaveen@yahoo.com or contact her at www.facebook.com/tianalaveen.

  Reading Group Discussion Guide

  1. Hannah and Opal have an interesting friendship. In addition to the commonalities expressed by Opal, what do you believe drew Opal and Hannah together?

  2. Master Stewart is a complicated character with a hidden, sordid past. Do you believe jealousy played a part in his decision to keep Hannah and John apart? If not, what other causes could there have been?

  3. Mama Mary seems to keep the family together. How did she fulfill this vital role?

  4. If Hannah existed in our day and time, what type of career do you think she would have? Would she be married and have children? What would her life be like?

  5. Hannah formed a friendship with Henry despite their forced arrangement. In what ways did they affect each other’s lives?

  6. Both Mr. Grant and Gayle represented the more sinister attitude concerning slavery. Do you believe justice was served to them?

  7. Master Stewart and John briefly discussed the appearance of Rebecca’s ghost. Do you believe her watching over them influenced either of their behavior?

  If you would like Tiana Laveen to attend your next group discussion in person or by phone, please send your request to tianalaveen@yahoo.com.