by Londyn Skye
“Pa, this the document you’s lookin’ for?” J.R. asked, after he arrived in the dining room next to his younger brother, Jacob.
Jesse glanced at it. “Yup, that’s it! Thank ya’ boys.”
“Not a problem,” Jacob replied.
“Hello Mary Jo,” J.R. said, a hint of lust in his tone. “Nice to see ya’ again, sweetheart.”
Mary Jo cringed at J.R. and his term of endearment. She quickly slid her chair a few inches away from him after he sat down beside her. Being his father’s repulsive-looking twin, J.R. made her equally sick to her stomach.
“Yeah, sho’ is good to see ya’,” Jacob agreed, staring at her with his mouth open as he sat down across from her.
“Mr. Adams,” Mary Jo said, interrupting the conversation Jesse was having with her father. “Won’t James be joinin’ us this evenin’?”
“Sorry to say lil’ darlin’ but not t’night,” Jesse replied.
“Oh, I see. May I ask where he is?”
“Mary Jo!” her father snapped. “That ain’t any of y’ur business.”
“It’s alright Joseph,” Jesse interjected.
“Well, I don’t mean to be nosy daddy. It’s just that I had a welcome home gift I’s wantin’ to give James, and I can’t quite seem to catch up with ’em these days.”
“I see. That’s mighty kind of ya’,” Jesse replied. “Well, he dropped our house slave off to a breeda’ a few hours north ‘a here, then he went just ’cross the borda’ to stay with a friend from his old university while he does some medical research with a professor there at the school. Shouldn’t be long ’fore he’s back, though. Lily should be good ‘n swollen by now,” he laughed. He then flashed his unsightly yellow smile, happy to know that Mary Jo still had an interest in James, feeling as though it was a bonus reason for Joseph to renew their contract.
“Jesse Adams allowin’ a slave off his property? World must be comin’ to an end,” Joseph joked.
“Well, I thought it was ’bout time I started lettin’ James run a few things around here. I ain’t gettin’ any younga’. James figured takin’ Lily to a breeda’ would give us a financial boost, so I went on and let ’em take ’er. He’ll be takin’ ova’ this place soon. Won’t be too long ’fore he’s the one sittin’ here doin’ all the negotiatin’.”
Mary Jo’s mind faded away from the conversation after that. She did not care about where James would be sitting in future circumstances. What mattered was that he was not sitting next to her now, close enough to smell the new perfume she had purchased just for his nose to inhale. He was not there to see the hair and make-up that she had spent all day crafting, and the dress that she had selected, in what she thought was his favorite color. Suddenly not caring about her debutante poise and posture, Mary Jo slouched in her seat. She picked up the wine she had ignored earlier and quickly chugged it all, wanting to numb herself through yet another evening without the man she was craving to see.
Chapter Sixteen
A “Quasi-free” Slave:
A slave who is hired out by his master as free for the benefit of financial gain.
Slave Code
Article VI Section II
Every person whose grandfathers or grandmothers were Negro, although all other progenitors were white, are to be deemed as “Negro.” Any person with one quarter or more Negro blood is to be deemed “Mulatto.”
“What the hell is this?!” James yelled at Tucker McCormick. James had nearly knocked the hinges off the swinging doors of Buck’s Tavern before walking up to Tucker and demanding answers for the article he had just read. He slammed the newspaper down on the bar, where Tucker sat flooding his stomach with whiskey. James knew he would find him there. Drowning his sorrows at Buck’s Tavern had been Tucker’s daily pastime since the bank had finally foreclosed on his bar a few weeks earlier.
“I don’t know what the hell y’ur talkin’ ’bout, schoolboy,” Tucker said calmly, still sipping his whiskey. It was barely noon and Tucker had already drank enough to slow his reaction to being startled. However, the same could not be said for the few other patrons who had all suddenly ceased their conversations and turned in the direction of the ruckus. Oblivious to all the eyes on him, Tucker picked up the newspaper, held it close and then far away, trying to get his intoxicated eyes to adjust.
ATHENS DAILY JOURNAL
Sunday Edition
June 5, 1859
WARNING TO POTENTIAL INVESTORS
James Adams, a slave owner from Virginia, recently discovered that his alleged former house slave is a self-taught pianist, who possesses the ability to play musical arrangements after hearing them only once. Since then, Mr. Adams has been using his house slave’s abilities to his advantage by exploiting her acts at small taverns, galas, and side shows. Mr. Adams’ hope is to earn the money necessary to pay off gambling debts and bills owed to the plantation that has been in his family for four generations. Currently, Mr. Adams is in the process of propositioning owners and managers of different theaters and orchestras to hire out his alleged former house slave, in an effort to turn his usually small profits into significant gains, under the pretense that the aforementioned slave has been legally manumitted. However, sources have yet to find proof that Mr. Adams’ house slave has truly been manumitted. Therefore, these sources would like to warn potential businessmen to steer clear of the Virginia slave owner and his counterpart, William Werthington. Mr. Werthington is a well-known composer, musician, and retired music teacher, who resides here in Athens. Mr. Werthington recently deceived an entire audience during a show held on his property on April sixteenth of this year, which was advertised to the public as “The Return of William Werthington.” Many patrons were upset to find that Mr. Werthington had actually masked the truth about the true producer of the evening’s ensemble: the alleged recently freed house slave of Mr. Adams. It is assumed that Mr. Adams and Mr. Werthington’s deception was an effort to garner the attention of the public, attract potential investors, and eventually hire out the aforementioned slave. We hereby remind all citizens that the practice of hiring “Quasi-free Negroes” was outlawed in Slave Code Article XX Section I, enacted in 1793. All potential businessmen are hereby forewarned that the penalty for breaking this law shall be carried out to the fullest extent allowed by law.
“Pppphh!” Tucker fluttered his numb lips, sending droplets of spit flying everywhere. “I ain’t have nothin’ to do with this shit.” He tossed the newspaper aside and proceeded to try to take another sip of his whiskey.
James grabbed Tucker’s hand and slammed the glass back down on the counter. “You’re a goddamn liar! You make me and William out to be tyrants in this article!”
The whiskey gave Tucker the liquid courage to stumble off his barstool and stand toe-to-toe with James. “I told you, I ain’t have nothin’ to do with that shit!”
“Bullshit! I know you’re behind this! Honestly, I don’t give a damn what you or anybody else in this town thinks ‘a me, but I won’t let you get away with defamin’ William! And you betta’ hope to whateva’ God you believe in that Lily neva’ finds out about this slanderous garbage! For you to try to make her think any ‘a this is true is low, even for a piece ‘a outhouse shit like you!”
“No point in your fears then, schoolboy! Y’ur little monkey can’t read anyway … Music or otha’wise, I’m sure!”
Only the memory of William’s lecture kept James from grabbing Tucker by the throat and squeezing until his lips turned blue and his beady eyes bulged from his head. James gritted his teeth and clenched his fists together, but then composed himself and headed toward the saloon exit without another word.
“That article is right, ya know!” Tucker shouted as James walked away. “You might’ve deceived a few people into comin’ to that shit you call a show, but it won’t be long before everybody gets sick ‘a you and that lil’ nigga’! She’ll fade away like a fart in the wind!” Tucker nearly fell over laughing at himself. “Face it! She’ll neva’ be a
nythang more than the bottom-feedin’ servant that she is!”
James was almost to the door before he turned back around and overturned the table that stood as the only barrier between him and Tucker. Shattered glasses and alcohol spilled on the floor.
“Oohhh, temper, temper,” Tucker said, waving his finger at James. “Maybe I’m wrong. I notice you get awfully uppity ova’ that lil’ piano playin’ bitch. Maybe you’ve already found out she’s good for one otha’ thing,” he said, a smug look on his face. “Do tell, schoolboy … is brown suga’s pussy any good? I’ve often been tempted to get a taste ‘a that sweet little ass ‘a hers.”
James’s fist caught Tucker clean across the mouth, splitting his lip wide open. Tucker saw black for a moment and then found himself on the floor lying in a pool of whiskey and broken glass. “Report that to the papers, you son of a bitch!” James said, looming over him.
Tucker licked the blood off his lip and gave an arrogant laugh as James walked away. “Her pussy’s that good, huh?”
James jumped on his horse and rode away from Buck’s Tavern in a full gallop, headed straight for Ohio University. Earlier in the day, another one of James’s fraternity brothers had informed him that a man, fitting Tucker’s description, had been roaming around the university, offering money in exchange for information about him. It was true that James had once done some gambling and borrowed money on his father’s behalf, but the story published in the Athens Daily Journal had been embellished far beyond the truth. Now James was eager to “visit” the so-called friends whose loyalties had been purchased to bolster slanderous content.
* * * *
“Might I have a word with you, James,” William called out from his den, after hearing his footsteps in the hallway.
James blew out a breath of frustration, not wanting to talk to anyone after the day he had had. He was ready to climb into his bed and sleep the rest of the evening away. Instead, he reluctantly walked into William’s den with his hands gripped on his suspenders and a scowl on his face.
William sat at his desk with his hands clasped together, staring out the window. “Close the door,” he instructed James.
“Listen, William, I’m a little tired, and I’s hopin’ to…”
“I had plans to rehearse with Lily today,” William coldly interrupted. “Do you happen to know what has delayed my chance to do that?”
“No sa’.”
“A knock at my front door.”
“And?”
“And well, I was expecting the usual … You know, businessman, postman, old friend, things of that nature,” he said, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. “But a sheriff!” William stopped and pointed a single finger in the air. “No! Now, that I was not expecting. That! is most certainly not the usual, wouldn’t you say?”
James dropped his head and exhaled sharply. “Yeah, about that…”
“Do you even care?”
“About what?”
“About Lily? Or about any of the things I spoke to you about not long ago?”
“What things?”
“Don’t pretend to be a fool in my presence!” he said, glaring harshly at James.
“Yes, of course I do, but did you see what they wrote in…”
“I DON’T CARE!” William yelled, slamming his hands on his desk and quickly rising from his seat. “When you go into a tavern making a damn fool of yourself or go to a school tormenting your old classmates, you’re giving everyone in this town more reason to believe that the garbage they wrote in that newspaper is true! We’re already dealing with an extremely challenging situation for Lily, trying to navigate her through uncharted waters! And I swear, it’s like you want to tip her boat over with your very own hands! So, tell me! What is it going to take for you to listen to me?!”
James just stared at the floor.
“Tell me?!” William insisted. “Sitting in jail, is that it?!”
Still, James did not respond.
“Or maybe, having the authorities drag Lily back to Virginia to your father while you’re locked up?! Is that what you want?!” William continued. “Or worse! Giving someone reason to come here and hurt her?!”
“NO!” James spat, quickly looking up with fire in his eyes.
“Then why the hell does it seem like you don’t give a damn about your actions?!” William walked from behind his desk and approached James, glaring harshly at him the whole way there. “You allowed a man as weak and stupid as Tucker McCormick to manipulate you like a puppet! He tap-danced you right into his little web! But you’re too damn caught up in your emotions for Lily to see the trap he set!”
“Emotions?!”
“Don’t insult my intelligence! Don’t you dare!” William said, pointing his finger at James. “Even a blind man can see how you feel about her!”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’…”
“Shut up! Just shut up! No more of your nonsense! I’ve had enough for today! For someone so smart, you sometimes act so bloody stupid!”
After William’s tongue lashing, James felt reduced to the level of a scolded puppy. But he could not argue against the fact that he deserved it. “You’re right, William, I’m sorry. I’ll do all I can to fix this,” he humbly replied.
William started to continue his tirade, but then caught himself and went silent. He turned and walked toward Emma’s portrait. He needed the sight of her face to help soothe himself before he spoke again. “If you don’t break things to begin with, James, then you won’t have to crawl back, expending an extreme amount of energy trying to fix them,” he said, calmness finally having returned to his tone. “If you truly care for Lily, the way I know you do, you’ll let go of your ego and always do what’s in her best interest from the start … always.”
James continued to stand there silently, feeling like a soldier who was afraid to leave without being dismissed first. He simply watched as William stared at the mysterious woman in the picture. “Wh-what’s her name?” James finally asked. “The woman in the portrait?”
“Emma. Her name is Emma.”
“Who is she to you?”
The simple question instantly ignited William’s nostalgia and gave him reason to tell a story that he felt might actually do James some good, especially considering the current circumstances. “Emma was the owner of a small country store that I frequented many moons ago. She was the type of woman who didn’t know a stranger. She was hardworking, kind, patient, and always smiling. Her brilliant smile,” William said while smiling himself. “It was that smile of hers that made my long trip into town to her store worth it. I often found myself there purchasing things I didn’t even need, just to see that beautiful smile of hers,” he admitted, chuckling at himself. “Some days, I wouldn’t buy anything at all. I’d just wander in and help Emma restock her shelves, just to have the pleasure of chatting with her. Our long conversations revealed that her beauty ran far deeper than my eyes could see. She was incredibly intelligent and wildly funny! With every conversation, I found myself more and more intrigued by her, and I found it harder and harder to leave. When I finally would find the willpower to go, I’d count the hours until I could see her again. It’s so bizarre how the hours seemed to fly while I was with her, yet drag after I had left her for the day.
“I was helplessly drawn to Emma, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I was also intimidated by her. Oddly, I could talk to her about anything, but I could never quite get the nerve to ask her to have dinner with me … until one December. During one of our many conversations, she happened to mention that she had nobody to spend Christmas with, and I knew!” William said, putting a finger in the air, “this was finally my chance! I explained to her that my family was in another country, and that I also had nobody to spend Christmas with, so I suggested that perhaps she and I should spend the holiday together. It felt like an eternity to me before she said anything. My heart was in my throat while I stood there frozen, waiting for her to answer.” William smiled at the memory.
“I’ll never forget all the fireworks that went off inside me the moment she finally said that she’d love to join me. I swear, I felt like dancing all the way home!”
James had walked over and stared at Emma’s portrait alongside William, feeling infected by his joy.
“I offered to cook for her for Christmas,” William continued, “but Emma wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, she came to my home and prepared the most wonderful meal for me. After we ate, we sat at the fireplace together, near the tree we had just decorated. There, I found myself telling her things about myself that I had never shared with any other. There was just something about her that comforted me enough to set aside all my fears about her ever judging me or betraying my secrets. I rambled on and on, eager to share my life with her. Oddly, though, after I told Emma a rather happy story about my mother, that smile I had come to love about her was gone. Out of the blue, she suddenly began to cry. I feared I had said something wrong.”
“‘Why the tears?’ I remember asking her.
“‘I haven’t seen my mother in years,’ she replied. ‘I’d give anything to see her again,’ she admitted, tears still cascading down her cheeks.
“It broke my heart to see Emma in that kind of pain. It instantly made me want to do whatever it would take to see her back into her mother’s arms again. ‘Tell me how I can fix this for you,’ I asked her.