Yellow Wife

by Sadeqa Johnson

  “They must hurt.”

  “I have missed you, Pheby.” He stepped closer to me, and then his lips were on mine. My body sank against his bare skin, and we kissed and licked with impatience. I could feel the contours of his muscles pressing through my skirt. The time we lost had not reshaped my longing for him. The same passion I had felt for him in the stables took over my good sense. I bunched my skirt around my waist and pressed my fingertips into the wall. Essex lowered his shackled hands over my neck, down to my waist, and thrust me forward. We fit like two missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. His chains rattled, mimicking the sound of our rhythm.

  “I love you, Pheby. You still mine.” He hummed a slow ballad in my ear. Our hips thrust in unison until we could no longer hold the tempo. I rested my head against his mouth and bit my lip to keep our secret between us.

  CHAPTER 34

  Little Time

  When I could think clearly, I helped his arms over my head and untangled us. The washcloth hung on the edge of the pail, and when I reached for it Essex stopped me.

  “I want your smell. It will keep me alive in here.”

  I blushed, smoothing my hands over my skirts. Essex had always said the most endearing things. New life surged through me as I draped him in burlap. I stitched roughly, sewing loose so he could pull his trousers down and up with ease to relieve himself. Once he dressed, we moved to the rude bench. I extended the cold food.

  “I have managed a spoon.” He pointed to the one on the floor and I rinsed it with the canteen water.

  “How?”

  “Friends in the prison below. I tell them my story. They slip me things through that little hole in the floor. Tobacco, small treats, news.” His eyes got big. “Heard Missus Delphina lost Master Jacob’s fortune.”

  “What?” I turned.

  “Married a man who gambled away the farm, then left her for another.”

  “Any children?”

  “Not that I know of. Living out her life on her parents’ farm. Say she a little touched in the head too.”

  “She reaped what she sowed.” I smirked, remembering my curse, and a peace that I had not felt in a long time washed over me.

  “Cheers.” I handed Essex the jar of whiskey. He sipped with thirst, then handed it to me.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Never drank before?”

  “Only wine.”

  “Dulls the senses.” He motioned to me.

  I gulped until my tongue puckered and my throat burned.

  “That was terrible.”

  “Just wait for the warmth.” He took it back from me.

  I rubbed my chest.

  “Any word on the children?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You must get the letter out.”

  “It is too perilous.”

  “I have promised to get us to freedom and I will. It is the only way.”

  He passed the jar back, and I braved another gulp from it. “I do not know who I can trust, who else to ask.”

  “Pheby, remember when we were on the plantation? It was you who hatched the plan for me to run. Brought in Aunt Hope. You can do this. Otherwise, I will die here. I am sure of it.”

  “Do not say such things.”

  “You said it yourself, I am trouble.”

  I kissed his lips and then stood to go. Time had gotten away from me.

  “Can you stay? Just a while longer?” he pleaded. “It is so lonely in here.”

  My head told me to resist, but my mouth said, “Few minutes more.”

  I settled in next to him. We talked and giggled as the whiskey slipped between us and we traveled back through time. We visited the happier moments we had shared on the plantation. At some point the bottle and Essex’s voice must have lulled me to sleep, because the next thing I heard was the sound of the gates being thrown open and the thud of horses trampling in. I bolted up.

  The carriage had returned.

  “I have to go.”

  Essex squeezed my hand, but I had no time to return his affection. The carriage was back. My children. I threw open the door and locked it behind me. Clarence came out of the tavern as my foot hit the last step. Disgust for me crumpled his lips. I realized that I had not considered my appearance. My hands went to my hair and I pinned back what I could while hurrying toward the courtyard.

  “Mother,” Hester shouted, and leapt from the carriage. She wore a new dress and bonnet made of a rich cranberry color. She had grown in the time we’d been apart.

  I took off at a run.

  “Darling.” My arms were around her.

  “Mother, why are you not dressed? You look like the help.” Before I could respond, Isabel and Joan were upon me, throwing their arms and limbs around, jumping into my arms. I nearly toppled over from the weight of them, but Clarence lent a hand to steady my shoulder.

  “We have missed you.” The girls tugged on me.

  “And I have missed you.”

  Sissy exited the carriage with her son, Daniel, in her arms asleep.

  “Missus.” She too wore a new dress, I took note, before she hurried off.

  “I am glad you have returned,” I addressed the Jailer.

  Birdie squirmed in his arms. I approached the carriage. There was no sign of Monroe. I made my lips pleasant, despite the color I knew had darkened my cheeks.

  Where was my son?

  “Pheby.”

  Birdie’s cry escalated, but instead of passing her over, he held her tighter. His cheeks looked even fuller than before.

  They must have eaten well on their journey.

  “Would you like me to take the baby?”

  Birdie’s voice shrilled in my ears.

  “Please.” I reached for her.

  Clarence leaned over and whispered something I could not hear. Then the Jailer stood, gave her to me, and followed him into the tavern.

  I clung to Birdie, patting her back until she settled.

  Tommy took the reins and led the horses to the stables.

  Where was my son?

  Birdie and I found the girls in the drawing room. Isabel and Joan were fighting for space in July’s lap, and Hester rested her head on July’s shoulders.

  “We missed you so,” said Hester. “We must never be apart from you again, July.”

  “I will always be here for you, sweet girls.” July squeezed all three.

  I sat down and Birdie wiggled off my lap and over to July.

  “Tell me about your trip.”

  “Papa took us to the hot air balloon show. It was magnificent,” said Hester, who ran down their entire three days’ events.

  “Did Monty go?”

  Joan smacked her lips. “No, we dropped him off at a house on a big land.”

  “A plantation,” Isabel explained. “Papa called it a plantation.”

  “He is staying to work.”

  “I begged Papa to let Monty come but he said no.” Hester cast her eyes down, like she thought I would be disappointed in her effort.

  “Well, I am glad you girls are back. How about we have some pie to celebrate?”

  “Before supper?”

  “Yes, before supper and then after supper.” I made my voice light.

  They cheered, and I willed their enthusiasm to quiet the thump in my head.

  CHAPTER 35

  Beautiful

  At first light, Abbie knocked on my door. “Morning, Missus. Marse requestin’ you take breakfast wit’ him.”

  “Will you help me dress?”

  “ ’Course.”

  It was rare that we had breakfast together, and I did not take it as a good sign. Abbie pulled tight on my corset, and I had to remind myself to inhale. I slipped into a pair of wooden shoes and followed her down the hall and into the dining room. He sat in a white shirt with blue suspenders. His hair had been brushed away from his face and he looked recently shaved.

  “You look nice,” I offered, taking my seat at his elbow.

  “You have been busy
since I have been gone?”

  I placed my napkin on my lap and did not respond. Abbie poured hot water into my teacup.

  “Abbie?”

  She hobbled toward him with the teapot. “Tea, Marse? More potatoes?”

  “Fetch July for me.”

  Abbie hobbled out. I sipped the tea, my stomach raw with fear. July glided in with her hair in a long braid. Her blouse clung tight. I made a note to swap in new clothing for her.

  “July, prepare a bath for yourself. When you are clean, meet Pheby in the supply shed, where she will dress you.”

  “For what?” I blurted.

  “I have a buyer who insists on taking her today.” His lips curled.

  I fought for air. “What about the children?”

  “They will adjust.”

  July looked from him to me, her face frantic. “Marse, why you sendin’ me away? I been good to your family.”

  “I am not. It is your mistress.”

  July’s eyes welled up. I had been her protector since I arrived and now I had failed her.

  “Can we talk in private?”

  “There is nothing to discuss. That will be all, July.” She ran from the room.

  “Please, stop this. I will do anything.”

  “What is it about these niggers that make you disobey me? I told you to stop with your mercy. Now you are aiding my prisoner!” His fist slammed against the table, causing the dishes to rattle in place. “You are an embarrassment.”

  “July is our family,” I pleaded.

  “There is no such thing as family, only business.” He dropped his napkin in his bowl and walked for the door. “Have her ready in an hour.”

  I threw my teacup on the floor and stomped it with my foot until it shattered into tiny pieces. I picked up my chair and slammed it back down in place.

  Abbie met me at the back door. “You gotta do somethin’.”

  I staggered down the steps and dragged myself to the supply shed. My love for Essex had cost me my sweet July, who was family in all but blood. He did not need to use her to make his point; he’d already taken my son away. Now I had lost them both. I clawed at my forearms until they stung with pain.

  Time ticked—I had to pull myself together. I wanted July to have the dress that Hilda had made for her birthday even though it was still a few weeks away, but before she put it on I needed to sew in protection. Through my tears, I attached two secret pockets. One I filled with coins and the other a pouch of herbs, like Mama had made for me when I moved up to the big house.

  July entered the shed with red-rimmed eyes, her hair damp.

  “I am so sorry.” I wrapped her in my embrace.

  “I’s scared.”

  “I know. You are the closest thing I have to a younger sister. If I could change your fate I would.”

  “You can change Marse mind. He listens to you.”

  I wished I could hide her. This was my cross to bear and she needed to see my strength. “Not this time.”

  I dried her tears with the back of my hand, showed her the inside of the dress, and told her about my gifts. Now it was my turn to lace her into a corset. I pushed it below her ribs, laced it through, and fastened the strings when tight. July had a real hoopskirt, not the grapevine I’d come to the jail in. I added rouge to her cheeks and made her lips appear bloodstained. Her thick hair I piled onto her head and then dabbed her neck and wrists with perfume. Maybe being pretty would make her luckier than most.

  “Don’t make me go,” she cried again.

  If I had to throw her to the wolves, then she needed to come out of the battle standing. I grabbed her hands tightly in mine.

  “You are only a slave in name. Never in your mind. Remember all that I have taught you. Try to be useful in the big house and keep your education hidden.”

  She nodded.

  “Lord protect her.” I spit over her shoulders like I had seen Mama do, then pulled her along.

  Elsie, Sissy, and Janice stood behind the shed to see her off. I hoped that the girl’s teacher, Grace Marshall, was keeping them occupied and that none would run from the house. That would only make this moment more difficult. Tommy darted from the stables and threw his arms around July.

  “Shame ’fore God.” Elsie slapped her hands together. “Raised her up from a girl. Shame ’fore God.”

  My knees wobbled as I led July away from the crowd and opened the door to the tavern. The Jailer waited at his usual table, where he was sitting with a tall, skinny man. Between them sat July’s papers.

  When I stepped back outside I bent over and howled.

  CHAPTER 36

  Falling

  Grief rose like a wall around me. Everything that had happened was my fault. July being sold. Monroe not returning home. Essex withering away in the prison cell. The guilt of failing them all suffocated me until my bones felt heavy and exhausted. I took to my bed early without dinner, but the next morning I still overslept. Abbie had to rouse and remind me that July was gone. “I tried gettin’ them dressed, but they wantin’ July.”

  When I opened the door to the nursery, they ran to me.

  “Mother, Abbie said July was gone. When shall she return?” Hester wrangled with her hair.

  “She promised to play dolls with me today,” Isabel pouted.

  I stumbled, then collapsed into the rocking chair. “Girls, July went away.”

  “For how long?”

  “When will she return, Mama?” Joan clutched my hands.

  “She is not coming back. She has been called to do another job.”

  Isabel wailed. “She is my best friend.”

  I moved to comfort her, but she screamed, “I do not want you. I want July!”

  I pulled my robe tighter against my chest.

  “Me too, I want July!” hollered Joan. “Who will rub my back?”

  “Me.”

  “No! You will not do it right.”

  With me working in the shed and playing in the tavern, the girls relied on July for their every need. They were more accustomed to her than they were me. Isabel threw herself on the floor and started kicking her feet. I pulled her up in my arms and rocked her.

  “Girls, it will be okay.”

  “Feels like I have swallowed a rock,” said Joan. “My belly hurts.”

  I brought her into my lap too. Hester rested her head on my knee.

  “We will get through this, I promise.”

  When the older three finally settled down, I held Birdie and read them each the book of their choice. Then we colored pictures.

  “For July, when she comes home,” said Joan, her eyes big and hopeful. I patted her head as Abbie shuffled in.

  “Marse wantin’ to see you in the parlor.”

  It was early for him to be home for supper. Even earlier for him to fancy a drink. I handed Birdie to Abbie and then made my way to the parlor. I wore my simple work dress, with even less attention given to my hair.

  The Jailer’s mouth creased. “We are going for a carriage ride. You look as if you could use some fresh air.”

  “But the girls? With July gone, who will care for them?”

  “Sissy will arrive shortly. Dress in something presentable. We leave directly.”

  I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, even though I wanted to scream. I returned in a summer calico dress with a lace-front bonnet and gloves to match. The August high-noon sun made my head sweat, but the wide brim concealed my displeasure at leaving the girls behind. The Jailer’s new driver, Hamp, extended his hand to me so that I could rise into the carriage. Hamp was a big man, copper-colored, with thick lips and an arrow-shaped scar in the middle of his forehead.

  “Ready, Marse?”

  The Jailer nodded his head. Hamp stepped into the coach box and commanded the horses by clicking his tongue.

  * * *

  Once we rode past the city limits the landscape changed. The cluster of houses and buildings were replaced by vast green fields and rolling hills. The air smelled fre
sh and crisp. I had grown so accustomed to the odorous jail. The dewy air started to reset my brain. For a few moments, even my sadness took a reprieve. I had brought a ball of yarn with me and knitted mindlessly. I willed myself to just be.

  We traveled for half the day before Hamp turned the carriage onto a long dirt road. My hand flew to the carriage handle as we hit a bump. The horses began kicking up dust, and as I lowered back the curtains a large house came into focus.

  “Do you love him?” It was the first words that the Jailer spoke to me on the drive.

  “I realize you came from the same plantation. Make sense that you would want to help him. Do you love him?” He eyed me.

  I parted my lips, with the intention of looking sincere. “No.”

  He turned back to his papers, stuffing them into his briefcase. Hamp stopped the carriage. The house was a brick Georgian-style mansion with Palladian-inspired side wings, and white shutters. It loomed larger than our house at the Lapier jail, but appeared about half the size of the one in which I had grown up. I did not know where we were or why, but I hoped with every fiber in my body that Monroe was near. A short, wide man with silver hair and a hearty smile greeted us at the door of the home. Two black-and-white dogs wagged their tails at his feet. A young brown girl stood waving a fan to keep him cool.

  “Welcome, Rubin. Wonderful to see you, old pal.”

  “This is Pheby Delores Brown, mistress of the Lapier jail.”

  “I am Henry O’Keefe.” He kissed my hand and led the way through the front door into the foyer. The ceilings were high and the space cool.

  Henry called out, “Polly.”

  A thickset woman descended the sweeping stairs, sliding her hand along the wrought-iron banister. She wore her blonde hair in a bun, and her cheeks were sprinkled with girlish freckles. Her attire was plain, a simple skirt with a small hoop, a blouse, and no jewelry. My dress had wrinkled from being in the carriage for so long, yet hers still paled in comparison to mine.