by Dickie Erman
“It sounds like you’re going through a difficult time, too. Have you spoken to Jeb about it?”
Caroline stared off into the distant marshland.
“Well, not exactly. I’m too afraid of his response. His masculine ego. But I’ve tried, many times, and at all different times of the day and night. When we’re alone, in bed, I’ve tried to arouse him. He’ll let me cuddle close, stroke my hair, kiss my cheek. But there’s no movement, no stiffness, if you know what I mean”.
Collette didn’t know how to respond. She felt the guilt she’d been repressing now rising up. She knew her wifely obligations, and took them seriously. She knew her husband had real needs yet, she wasn’t able, or at least willing, to meet his justified expectations. She fought back more tears.
“OK. Enough for now” Caroline said matter of factly.
“Let’s finish this drink, and head back home. I have a wonderful dinner planned for tonight. You’ll just love our cook, Malika. She’s black, but a free black woman. She’s been with us for over a year now, and makes the most delicious alligator jambalaya! To die for”.
“Yes, that sounds wonderful” Collette thought to herself as she smiled, the tension having dissipated.
Caroline rolled up onto her knees. “Last sip? she offered.
Collette took the flask, sipped, and downed the last drop. “Oh my” she said as the alcohol’s affect rushed to her face.
Caroline watched intently, leaned forward, kissed her on the mouth, then sat back on her heels. Neither spoke another word until they arrived back at the carriage, Jacob patiently waiting.
23
H IS HEAD ROLLED BACK and forth a few times on the pillow, then his eyes
opened. Trent had one hell of a headache. He’d hardly slept. As the alcohol gradually wore off during the night, his mind chattered constantly back and forth, trying to reconstruct what went wrong, and why.
He realized he was still wearing the same clothes he wore last night. Disgusted with himself, he went to the bathroom, peed, peeled off his clothes, and gave himself a cold sponge bath.
“What was I thinking?” he asked himself. His plan had completely failed. Or did it? He’d surely thought about the first ‘morning after’, rehearsing the scenario many times.
But in all rehearsals, he’d been in total command, a methodical step-by-step performance where he was the writer, director, and principal actor. Amana was just a supporting cast member, completely obliging in every detail of each scene.
“It was my drunkenness” he scolded himself. “I failed to have complete control. This changes everything”.
He could no longer carry out this fantasy. In rehearsal, he left Amana’s room by reminding her of what’d happen if she let any word get out. He’d talked to her about specific repercussions, beatings, whippings, selling her, or worse. Instead, the reality was that he’d walked out of her room last night as an impotent captain, in charge of a rudderless ship, with potential mutiny brewing.
“I’m so sorry, Amana” he told himself. “You’ve got to leave this house, before I ruin my marriage and my reputation”.
He stood outside the kitchen doorway. He could hear the sound of clanging pots and pans, smelled the aroma of fresh coffee, and listened to Amana and Sadie happily chatting away.
A tinge of paranoia gripped him. Had Amana told Sadie about last night? Was Sadie now in on this? Did he have to sell off Sadie to another owner?
“Get hold of yourself, man” he scolded himself. He’d never before second guessed his own authority, and wasn’t about to now. He stood straight up, adjusted his shirt cuffs, and pushed the door open.
Sadie and Amana immediately stopped chattering, and looked directly at Trent, both sensing his tension.
“Good morning, ladies” he said authoritatively, as he briskly walked to the table.
“Mornin’ Colonel” Sadie replied, trying to sooth his concerns about whatever was bothering him.
Amana said nothing, but smiled shyly as she strode past him, a slightly flirtatious wiggle in her step. Her encounter last night was not the nightmare she’d anticipated. The horrendous consequences of refusing his advances still remained, but the lure of physical gratification was unexpectedly appealing.
Trent sensed her pleasant demeanor, and his ego swelled immediately.
“Maybe I didn’t come off as such an impotent captain, after all” he thought. Hangover or not, his physical desires led his eyes right back to her curvy backside and voluptuous breasts.
“Alas, me thinks I may need to reconsider any hasty retreat” he chuckled to himself, his confidence reemerging.
“And how are you this fine morning, Amana?”
“I’s fine sir” she shyly but enthusiastically smiled back. Sadie sensed there was some suggestive game going on between the two, and smartly left the room.
Recomposed and confident, Trent began to direct the next scene in his play. “Amana, fetch me some coffee and then come sit, here” he said, as he scooted out the chair next to him with his foot.
She poured him a cup, and placed it on a saucer in front of him. Her eyes were no longer staring at the floor. She looked him directly in the eyes, with a shy but alluring smile.
“Last night was all wrong”. He spoke very softly, confident Sadie couldn’t hear but being extra cautious, nonetheless.
“I’ll be honest with you. I had second thoughts about what happened last night. When I woke up this morning, I decided that you could no longer work in this house. There’s just too much at risk for me, for both of us”.
“But nothin’ happened las’ night” she said, a feint tone of seduction in her voice. She desperately needed to capture his lust, or back to the fields she’d surely go.
“I know nothing happened. It didn’t happen because, well frankly, I was drunk” he told her, sounding quite defensive. His tone placed the blame directly on his inebriation, not his lack of manly prowess.
“I knows that, Sir”, offering her genuine reassurance. In fact, she fully believed that the Colonel was quite competent in the arena of love making.
“Well” he half-stuttered, nearly blushing as he caught himself momentarily staring at the floor. “But after thinking further on it, I’ve decided you can stay”. He lowered his voice even more. “The consequences to you are too grave. I know you know that”.
Amana slowly nodded that she fully understood.
“Well, then”. He stood, adjusted his cuffs once more, and looked around the kitchen, fully pleased with himself, his wealth, and his dominance. “My dear” he said as he slightly bowed his head toward her, as if bidding her adieu. As he left the room, he began counting the days, nights, left before Collette returned.
24
T HEY ARRIVED AT THE PLANTATION around noon. Tolivar stopped the carriage near Tabari’s cabin.
“Tabari, give your horse to one of the hands. The Doctor and I need to speak with the Colonel, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be around. Get out to work, far in the field. Now, Tabari!”
The Doctor relaxed on his buckboard, both amused and satisfied that his flaming debacle would manifest into this silver lining. Before nightfall, he’d be dining in the great room, sniffing exquisite brandy, and retiring to a clean comfortable bed, with the possibility of being joined by one of the fine-looking servants.
“Doctor, why don’t you pull your rig to the front of the house, and wait for me while I locate the Colonel. And let me do the talkin’”.
“An excellent idea, Mr. Tolivar”. “Good man” he said to himself, unable to suppress a mischievous grin.
“Why yes, sir. I’ll fetch him right aways” Sadie said, as Tolivar stood on the front porch. “I think he’s in da study, workin’ on his books and such”.
Tolivar paced back and forth, rehearsing the sequence of events and deciding the best way to explain it all to the Colonel. The difficult ones, of course, were how Tabari burned down the Doctor’s house and how the Doctor would have to become
a semi-permanent guest.
“Well Mr. Tolivar. I’m so glad to see you made it back safe and sound. I trust you found Senator Harrison’s home with no trouble?”
“Yes sir. Mrs. Winters is warm and safe and dry”. He saw the Colonel’s bewilderment as his eyes look past him, toward the Doctor.
“Well, we did run into a couple of problems”.
Trent stared intently, commanding him to tell the story.
“Again, Mrs. Winters is fine. There’s no problem there” reassuring the Colonel and trying to minimize his concern.
“She and Mrs. Harrison were enjoyin’ each other’s company as they bid Tabari and me goodbye. I told her I’d be back next Saturday to pick her up. Yup, no problem”.
He winced a bit, having realized he’d just brought Tabari into the picture.
Trent looked at the splint on Tolivar’s arm. “What happened?”
“Well, that’s what I was trying to get at. Ya’ see, we was about two hours away, when we run into a lynch mob. There was about six of ‘em. Mrs. Winters, I had her stay in the carriage. No one laid a hand on her, I saw to that.
“But they’d killed one of their niggers, I think for messin’ with one of his master’s daughters. Anyways, they was all drunk and preparin’ for no good. I wound up havin’ to tussle with a big ugly fella’. He wound up breakin’ my arm”. He looked sympathetically at his splint.
“My goodness, man. Are you alright?”
“Yes, Colonel”.
“And Mrs. Winters. No harm came to her?”
“No, Sir. She’s just fine. We was fortunate. One of the men, more elderly, was a gentlemen. He eventually ordered his men to bury the nigger, and let us pass.”
“Well, thank goodness for that”. He looked again toward the Doctor.
“Why is he here?” he whispered. He sensed the awkwardness of not addressing the Doctor directly, but didn’t want to give any impression that he was welcome.
“Well, that’s another part of this story. Ya’ see, after leaving Mrs. Harrison’s home, I knew I needed to get some medical care”.
“Of course, of course”.
“So I had Tabari follow me to where I remembered I’d first met Dr. Wesley, you know, a few weeks ago. He was kind enough to take us in for the evenin’, since I didn’t know of any hotel that’d give a slave a room”.
“Go on”.
“Well, we went to the Doctor’s house. He was real nice to us. Fed us and let Tabari stay in a shed out back. To be fair, I don’t blame Tabari. He was scared to death after seeing that dead nigger lyin’ on the ground”.
“Blame Tabari, for what?”
“For burnin’ down the Doctor’s house”.
“What?”
“Yea. Ya’ see, apparently, Tabari came into the house just before first light, I think he was fixin’ to make some coffee for me and Doc. Well, he accidently knocked over the oil lamp. He musta’ panicked and ran back to the shed.
“When I came to, I mean, woke up, the fire’d already spread throughout the house. Remember, I was in an awful hurt”, again looking sympathetically at his splint.
“That nigger just ran?”
“Well, yes. But again, he was mighty scared”.
Trent looked back toward the Doctor, who was wiping sweat dripping from his face. He couldn’t hear much of the conversation, but did his best to look forlorn and penniless.
“The Doctor’s house?”
“Yup”.
“Burned?”
“Yup”.
“To the ground?”
“Yup”.
“Nothing left?”
“Nope. He lost everything. ‘Cept his horse and buck wagon. We picked them up at the blacksmith’s on our way back here”.
Trent was incredulous. He pondered what he’d have to do, and in what order.
His slave had burned the Doctor’s house and all his possessions. He’s penniless with nowhere to stay, no way to eat. No clothes. It’ll take at least two months to rebuild his house.
“Damnit” he mumbled. At least Colleen was OK.
“Mr. Tolivar. I want you to see to it that Tabari is punished. And I don’t mean just beaten. I want him whipped until he can’t stand”.
Tolivar’s face was frozen. As much as he hated niggers, he respected himself as a man of his word.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes sir”. He remembered what he’d told Tabari: “I’ll just tell ‘em I need you healthy to finish some plantin’ work that needs done. Trust me. That’ll be the end of it”.
He began to think those words would come back to haunt him.
Trent jogged down the porch steps to address the Doctor directly and properly offer his condolences and, with concealed regret, his hospitality.
“Doctor, my apologies. Mr. Tolivar was just telling me about your awful ordeal. I can assure you I’ll do everything possible to make things right. As a gentleman, I accept full responsibility for my servant’s action, as unseemly as they were”.
“That’s very kind of you Colonel. And I know you’ll do what’s right. As you know, I have a very well respected and lucrative position as a medical doctor in N’awlins. Or, should I say, had” (“I’m gonna shame him to his knees, and then squeeze this for all it’s worth” the Doctor smiled to himself).
“Yes, sir. Lost everything in that fire. My furniture, antiques, books, cash, quite a bit of cash as a matter of fact. My medical certificates, diplomas, you name it. Most of it is irreplaceable”.
“Yes. Well, first you need to rest up. Tomorrow, I’ll have my building supervisor go with you, to where your house stood, and draw up plans to rebuild. I’m sure he’s familiar with several builders who can start the process immediately.
“Of course, you’ll need lodging. I’ll arrange for your stay at a fine hotel. Meals, clothing, whatever else you need, will be paid personally by me.
“You can make a list of the personal items you’ve lost. If any can be replaced, I’ll see that it’s done. If not, then itemize your losses, and you’ll be reimbursed in full.
“In the meantime, Mr. Tolivar here will see to it that you’re quite comfortable in his quarters. I’ll have one of my servants see to it that you have a fresh set of clothes”.
“Damn” he cursed to himself. “That shit-hole will be rebuilt in weeks, not months. What happened to Southern hospitality? What happened to staying in the mansion? The gourmet food? The drinks?
“Ah, well. Worse things could happen than a month long stay in a fine N’awlins hotel with first class food and drink”. He quickly regained his composure and smiled.
“Well, that’ll be fine Colonel. I can assure you, your hospitality will not be soon forgotten”.
As Trent walked up the porch, the Doctor turned to Tolivar.
“That son-of-a-bitch! Two can play at that game. You got a pencil and some paper at your place? I need to begin makin’ my list. Colonel, you’re about to write a carte blanch check for some of the finest refurbishins’ money can buy”.
* * *
THE Doctor left early morning, alongside ‘Brock’, Trent’s building supervisor. Brock had lived on the plantation nearly four years, constructing slave cabins, wood sheds, everything needed to maintain and expand the plantation, including regular maintenance on the mansion.
“Like I said, sorry ‘bout your loss, Doctor”. Brock drove his buckboard alongside the Doctor’s.
“Yea” he mumbled, still hung over from the binge he and Tolivar enjoyed last night.
“Christ sake it’s hot” he complained, his body sweating out the alcohol. “Say, Brock … “
Anticipating the question, “Sure Doc, I got somethin’ here to help with the heat”. They stopped their rigs, and Brock reached into his pack and produced a large tin flask. He tossed it to the Doctor.
“Ah, thanks” he said, as he took a hard gulp.
“We’ll be thar’ in no time. Let’s grab us a hotel room first, then some food. Then we’ll mosey on out to yo
ur place and take a look. What size lot do ‘ya have?”
“Half acre. And the house took up most of it”.
“Big house, huh?” “Well, we’ll get plans drawn and I’ll speak with some engineers I know. We’ll get construction started right quick”.
“Mmm. What’s the hurry?” the Doctor thought. “Take yer’ time. Take all the time ‘ya need”.
25
A MANA WAS SURE the Colonel would visit tonight. It was the last night before Mrs. Winters’ return.
She’d carried several wooden buckets filled with hot water to the small bathtub that she and Sadie shared. What a luxury, compared to the filthy tub the slaves stained once a week. She even snuck into Mrs. Winter’s bedroom, and sprayed a thin mist of lilac perfume on her neck.
“I ain’t got nothin’ to lose” she mused, trying to justify her willingness to give in to the lust they’d soon share. She dressed herself in the cleanest servant’s clothes she had, a long white cotton dress, tightly cinched at the waist.
Lifting the side of her dress, she slowly whirled in a circle, admiring her figure as she imagined herself as owner of the plantation, lavished with all the lovely and expensive items that made each room in the house magnificent.
She really did have nothing to lose. She knew she’d remain at the plantation until she died, or was sold.
There was no way to escape.
Giving in to the Colonel’s urges might offer some leverage for an even better lifestyle than she currently enjoyed. If she performed well, he might develop some fondness for her.
Maybe even provide some of Mrs. Winters’ discarded hand-me-downs. Maybe an extra day off each week, in addition to the usual Sundays. Perhaps he’d take her to New Orleans on one of his business trips.
“Ah, get real, girl” she smiled, tersely ending her daydreaming. “Da best dats gonna come of this is I gets to be with a man ever’ so often. They’re aint’ gonna be no trip to N’awlins, and probly’ no extra day off”.
“But then again” she thought, “in the back of his mind, the Colonel must always be nervous ‘bout Misses Winters finding out.” He’d banish her to the fields, whip her, sell her, or a thousand other punishments, but that wouldn’t stop his wife’s wrath and curse upon him.
