by Riva Zmajoki
When the darkness became thick and floor beneath her shoes became steep, Belva walked faster.
The corridor seemed endless.
In the darkness, the sights of the last night flashed before her eyes and away from the lady’s warmth Belva felt the shame creeping in.
‘It’s wrong,’ she said to Evan once. ‘God envisioned his creation, he made men for women and women for men. Everything else is just wrong.’
‘Yes, mother,’ young Evan replied like always ready to take advice. ‘I would never do anything wrong.’
‘I know, you are a good young man,’ she caressed his face. ‘But although you wouldn’t do anything wrong, and I would never doubt you, others can impose themselves upon us. If that boy, or anyone else, would do anything inappropriate, if you were to be… abused in any way you must tell me.’
Evan looked at her with a scared expression on his face that made her heart shrink. Her suspicion grew until it seemed that it will crush them both.
‘Mama,’ he said finally. ‘What would you, what could you do, even if, I don’t say it did, but even if something would to happen, what could you do? You’re just a woman, they are powerful plantation owners. There’s nothing you could do.’
‘There’s always something that can be done,’ she said firmly then. ‘I would kill them rather than to be able to abuse my son in any way. I didn’t raise you, I didn’t suffer through all this for them to ruin you, and to damn you for eternity.’
Evan hung his head looking down.
‘Don’t worry mama,’ he said quietly. ‘I did nothing wrong, there’s nothing to worry about.’
She stayed quiet but her suspicion wasn’t calmed down. Just days later Leopold lied underneath her feet in a pool of blood. They never talked about it since.
Belva couldn’t but think about it all as she ran once again from Leopold’s son who sought his revenge upon her. More now when she broke her words and descended down into sin.
Still, this was different. Belva wasn’t a young defenceless boy without a father and no one forced Belva into anything. She gave herself away freely. That can’t be all that wrong.
7.1 The Dance
Charcoaled House
Sue never cried in her life like after that terrible man yelled at her. She could barely understand what he was asking her. All she could think about was her dress and her baby’s safety.
If it wasn’t for some twisted purposes why did her mistress take it then?
“I think I can fix it,” her mistress said and for a first time, Sue could see her as an ordinary woman.
Someone preoccupied with how things looked, ordinary things like ugly maid’s dresses which Sue despised. To Sue’s surprise her mistress pressed white ribbons against the black material. Could that mean that Sue’s status in the house can change?
“Maids can enter from White Phoenix to Charcoaled House,” Carol would say to her. “But there is no way to return from Charcoaled House to the cleanliness of White Phoenix, its’ tiles would get smeared with impurity.”
In Sue’s mind, her mistress was a person who just sat in her room thinking of all of the wicked things she can do in secrecy. Now when she stood in her room, the mysterious room where all devious things happened her mistress looked ordinary.
There were threads all around her table, unfinished broidery and dust all over the shelves.
Suddenly, Sue could picture her mistress just sitting here and doing her needlework when she was alone.
It seemed so normal to Sue that she started to question her fears. Suddenly, the mistress didn’t seem like a person that would hurt her child.
In following days, her mistress didn’t mention Sue’s escape in any way or referred to her child. More so, she acted more ordinary than ever.
Sue was invited in to clean mistress’s room but now she felt no fear. All she thought about was how to remove thick layers of dust that were everywhere.
The Marshal did the unthinkable. He intruded in the private rooms of Carol’s mistress. He overstepped between dark patches and light tiles not even noticing that he’s disturbing the lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
Even worse was that he exposed how poorly his mistress’ rooms to the outside world. Her private area must be preserved there she feels safe.
Now he’ll have to order the maids to clean the whole house, to return it to the pure undisturbed state. Since Sue and Carol were the only servants of the master that managed to stay in the house since he died, she’ll clean the dark patches to expunge the traces of intruders and Carol will make sure that the dark room is undisturbed.
Before he left mistress’ private rooms Carol couldn’t help but look around the white space. He noticed the mess he can clean, the pieces that didn’t belong here. The most disturbing part was the sheets. There was blood on the white surface. The white surfaces must be preserved. Still, the amount of blood on the sheets calmed Carol.
His mistress said that she was wounded but she didn’t confess that it was so severely. Carol now understood her behaviour better.
He ordered the general cleaning the white rooms. He went to mend the dark room. As he restored order, he felt satisfied.
His mistress had a good reason for her behaviour. She was injured. Surely, she’ll be back to her wicked ways soon enough.
Carol looked forward to it.
‘There is a rhythm to her madness. I always quite enjoyed dancing beside like ghost, mimicking her movements to the point she didn’t notice that I was there, right beside. In a way, I’m invisible to her, as her light is blinding to me. In time, you too will learn the steps of that dance.’
7.2 Two Maids
White Phoenix
After the patrolmen left, Cynthia wasn’t satisfied with their quiet life anymore. All sorts of hunger woke up inside of her. She wanted life, love and everything else, but nothing was there for her.
Just waking up at dawn and working the whole day through until she would drop from exhaustion when the night was already thick.
All the thoughts about the good times came back to her. Everything that was erased by her troubles was now alive like it happened yesterday.
Cynthia found herself wishing for a hero to come in and save her from this wretched life and give her the comfort she grew up in.
In that state, the new delivery guy found her. Santos wasn’t a boy in any sense of the word. He was tall and handsome. He filled out his clothes and it was clear that he shaves.
More than all that, he was kind. He would smile at her like she’s someone worthy of attention and Cynthia would feel all mushy inside. If only she could get rid of Tricia shadowing her every move.
Tricia didn’t trust the new delivery man one bit. He was far too old for the task and too fit. He could be doing any number of things and not just carry packages around.
If there weren’t for slaves coming in and coming out, Tricia wouldn’t think twice about him. This way it was just odd.
The first time he came, he offered to be their errand boy. Eddy was half his age, half his strength and his smarts seemed limited.
“Santos de la Cruz,” he bowed and smirked at her.
That smirk made her frown deeper.
“Santos de la Cruz,” she said not waiting for anyone to answer instead of her. “What’s your business?
Since Major-Domo left, there was no man in the house and Tricia was all too aware how exposed they were. Four fallen women with no reputation in society and a boy who does the dirty work for them.
“I’m looking for work so I came to see is there some errands I can do for you,” he smiled wider.
She looked down and up at him.
“No work for you,” she said directly. “You don’t seem like a servant material. They need to be humble, you know. Go to town it’s more likely they’ll give you a task to bend your spine.”
“I’ll go there then, my fair lady,” he tipped his hat in her direction and walked away.
She looked after him all
flustered. He had no right to do that. She wasn’t a woman you could court. To flatter a woman like her made no sense. The man had to be up to something.
When he returned as a delivery man she was even less trusting towards him. Observing Cynthia’s reaction to him made her aware of the danger he poses to them all.
She made it her mission to prevent Cynthia from telling him their every secret. She was, after all, a woman without restrictions. If she was a religious woman, Tricia would call her an immoral woman. Having experiences with the world she had, she just called her a determinant woman.
When she wanted something, she made sure she got it. Now it seemed she wants the delivery man for some strange reason.
Few months passed and Santos was now gladly seen guest on White Phoenix plantation. He would be let in the kitchen and served some food. The staff would gather and ask him a question about the town and what’s new.
In a sense, Santos was their spy as much as Luiz’s. He was maybe even more candid with them than with Luiz.
After he would eat, the rest of the staff would go by their business but two maids would stay.
Tricia and Cynthia would clean up plates and carry on the chatter.
Tricia still refused to smile at him but Cynthia smiled constantly. Cynthia tried to find a way to look at her solely.
If he was a real spy, she would tell him all about their station. Tricia would always be her shadow observing her with distrust. As soon as Cynthia would approach anything related to slaves or their absence, Tricia would cut in and interrupt her.
“Without slaves,” Cynthia would complain. “It’s like we became slaves. We must do all the chores.”
“But we get paid, don’t we,” Tricia would cut in and push her towards the door. “You’ll excuse us, the rooms must be tidied. See you next time.”
She would smile at him then but only a curt smile that wouldn’t reach her eyes.
Santos would smile, tap his hat like she was a lady he met on the street and leave.
If he was a real spy, Cynthia wouldn’t have to tell him that they were a station. Even without them talking he could see small signs. Leftovers from the passengers. Some rag in the corner. Muddy footprints that weren’t cleaned upon his arrival. Footprints of bare feet.
He would always notice when someone would be in. Then he wouldn’t be invited into the kitchen.
There was no temptation within him to betray his status to them. Security of the station was greater than anything else. If he didn’t know the details of their routine, he couldn’t slip and tell on them. If they didn’t know he was a spy, they couldn’t tell him.
As he went through York County, he noticed the mishaps on the rails when runaways would be apprehended. Little digging through office’s records and he would know who to tell to fix the hole.
A small codded note to a right address was enough. That’s how he was useful to the rail without ever exposing himself.
7.3 Dead End
Between Tiles
Evan did have an intention to go home but the road had its own mind.
When his mother instructed him to go home and tend to his family, Evan agreed to know that it’s a good idea.
Still, as soon as he exited the determinant orbit of his mother he started to think and think some more.
His mother stayed to mend her part of the road. She would gather runaways by the cliff and then led them to the border where she would entrust them to another conductor down the road.
Because of Luiz, who blocked the road, they never went further down south and Evan was bothered by that.
It was like it was his own fault for slaves to be without an exit further south.
That’s why he wrote a letter to his wife to cover up his leave.
‘Dear Jolene,
I’m well. The road is broad enough for many passengers.
Here are some of my earnings to make up for my absence.
I had to leave my mother to tend for herself since this is a work too hard for her to handle.
Please write her a letter, to know that I’m well and found a new job that will pay off soon.
I’ll be in touch as soon as I gather some more packages. Then I’ll make up to you. I hope the children are well. Give them my love.
The most important thing we have is our freedom.
I’ll keep on fighting for them in the only way I know how.
Forever yours,
Evan.’
Building the railroad for escape was the only thing in his life that made him feel worthy of a life his mother gave him, for which she sacrificed everything she had.
There were times when he would try to imagine that life she would have if she gave him up.
If she did, that would mean he would now be a slave. For that other him who was enslaved, he had to keep on paving the road towards freedom.
Luiz looked at Josephine Gaillard and how she laughed at him made him furious. He did what he never did, he threatened her as a man but she just pulled a pistol at him.
The barrel opening of the pistol sobered him up. He had greater prey to catch than to make this heathen woman back on the straight path to purity. Her soul was her responsibility. If it gets lost, it won’t be his doing.
The pregnant maid appeared and it seemed that he was at another dead end.
“Maybe your man was mesmerised by the broad shoulders of my Major-Domo.”
Luiz jumped at that sting only to be laughed at.
The woman was unreadable and there was no probable cause to bring her in. He could only get expelled from the county if her connections are strong enough.
Luiz withdrew but he was restless. He kept looking around the plantation feeling that they are close. It was like he missed them by an hour or two.
There was no doubt in his mind that they had to go through this area.
All other roads were blocked. Only this one remained open because it led nowhere. The road just ended here like this is a place worth coming to.
As his men gathered around him Luiz looked around the fields and the alleys. Everything looked ungroomed. The grass was conquering everything.
The tall white house stood proud but its surroundings were deteriorating.
“A man in a house is needed for it to work,” he said to his deputy absentmindedly.
“What? You’re going to apply for the job?” his deputy smirked.
“Never,” Luiz said offended. “This kind of leisure I can have back home. It’s sickening how dull and lazy people lying on the silk can become.”
“Luckily, we’re not in danger of becoming lazy with you dragging us around through mud.”
“Don’t squeal, it’s good for you. You all became thick sitting in the mud, letting law slip. I’ll bring you in order.”
“So, you won’t be leaving?” the deputy was thoughtful.
“Not yet, the trail is still fresh. These abolitionists tend to roam the same routes. They will be back. They can’t resist but steal some more. The next time we’ll be ready for them.”
“And I hoped to get a bit lazy,” his deputy laughed.
Luiz let the corner of his lips to lift. He knew when he would earn the respect of his men. These men were gathering quickly behind him.
VIII. I Pray for Her Every Day
09/10/1859
Dear Josephine,
When a Mother Superior asks me for whom I’m praying so tirelessly every day I answer for her, for the woman so deep lost to sin that she can’t see her own reflection but crying.
That is me.
I also pray for you that can look upon your reflection in the mirror.
I pray that one day you look and see your sin as it is and throw it away before it ends your soul.
I know there is some soul left in you.
Your letter shows as much.
I’ll keep on praying for both of us crying down until my knees bleed.
Keep me in your prayers too.
With regret,
Karen.<
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8.0 You are Free to Go
Belva held her breath. The patrolman crossed too near to her hideout.
This cursed county seemed to be crawling with patrolmen. That damn Luiz saw her and now he was bound to scour the land to find them.
Evan insisted that they skip York County but she was headstrong as she always was. She was tired of running from him.
“We can’t just skip brothers and sisters in need,” she said firmly but now she doubted herself.
If she didn’t encounter her lady boarding her carriage, she wouldn’t make it out of this place alive.
Only when they finally crossed the river did Evan speak.
“We will not get back there,” he said grumpily. “It’s just bad luck.”
“Its good luck, I survived,” she argued thinking of her lady.
“Yes, but I waited in bushes freezing while you sat indoors. What took you so long?”
Belva thought of her lady’s luscious long hair and her soft skin.
“I was injured, you could show a bit of compassion,” Belva grumbled.
“It’s just a graze, you had worse,” he didn’t back down.
Belva caressed her shoulder. The bandage was still clean and it held her tightly.
“Even a graze can be deadly if not cleaned properly,” she scolded him.
“That woman gave me the creeps. I was convinced that she cut you up in her basement and that she’ll send patrolmen on me.”
“Don’t be like that,” Belva frowned. “If you start seeing just colour then there’s no hope for us. We depend upon change, upon mercy. She showed us that and she’ll accept others too. You don’t gain allies by thrusting them against the tree and acting like a menacing murderer.”
“She didn’t even flinch,” Evan shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust her.”
“Then you would be lost because you lost the ability to differentiate between friends and foes.”
“I hate when you talk like that, not all of us grew up reading books,” he grumbled.
