by Londyn Skye
When James was finally able to make out her words, his heart suddenly began to pulse in his throat. “Who?!” he asked.
“LILY!”
“What’s wrong with ’er?!”
“Yo’ daddy knows you’re the baby’s fatha’!” Corrina frantically pointed toward the whipping tree. “He beatin’ Lily for it!”
When James’s eyes homed in on the infamous tree, adrenaline instantly rushed to every point on his body. The intense rush prompted him to immediately dig both of his spurs deep into the sides of his horse, nearly kicking a hole in him to force him into a gallop. Despite his horse blazing through the grass at top speed, it felt to James like everything was in slow motion. While on his way, he began yelling at his father, but James could not even hear the words he was conjuring up in his spinning mind. Everything in his world was silent except for the sound of Lily’s heart-wrenching cries for help. With every blow he saw his father land to her body, James’s mind ticked closer to insanity. Still too far away to stop the violent assault, though, he could do nothing but watch Lily lose consciousness after his father barbarically struck her repeatedly in the back of the head.
When Lily finally ceased movement, Jesse tied a rope around her wrists and hoisted her limp body up onto the whipping tree. The sight of Lily’s nude pregnant body riddled in bruises catapulted James into a murderous rage. As he approached on his horse in a full-on gallop, James pulled his pistol out of his holster and aimed it directly at his father’s head. He cocked the hammer back, put his finger into position, and was suddenly knocked down from his horse by a piece of lumber, just as he pulled the trigger. The gunshot blast rattled all the slaves that stood nearby; they instinctively ducked to avoid a bullet that rippled wildly across the field. James cried out from the shock of the blow, somersaulted off his horse, and landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He was so focused on killing his own father that he never saw J.R. barreling toward him with a two-by-four.
While James lay on the ground struggling to regain his breath, J.R. and Jacob took his six-shooter away and began to beat him into submission, each angrily alternating a fury of blows to their youngest brother’s face. Once they had James under control, they pinned him down on his stomach and gripped his arms behind his back. They kept him firmly in place with their knees and held his head up by his hair, leaving him unable to do anything but watch his father pull his thick leather whip back and hurl it toward Lily’s back with lightning speed. Jesse’s first strike ripped a fresh layer of flesh from Lily’s body, raining specks of her skin and blood into the air when he snapped it back. Still unconscious from her beating, Lily’s body simply twitched in response to the leather each time it tore into her skin.
While James struggled with all his might to free himself from his brothers, he continuously begged his father to stop. His repeated intense cries for mercy nearly caused his vocal cords to fray. Despite his pleas, his father continued to savagely scar the woman he loved. While Jesse had not meant for his wife to die, the brutal beating he was inflicting upon Lily was strictly for that purpose. He wanted her and her baby’s death to be slow and excruciatingly painful. And, as promised, he wanted to be sure his son watched every graphic minute of it.
Jesse paused to catch his breath, heaving hard after his initial attack, but still held his whip in a firm grip. While struggling for air, he turned to gaze at his youngest son with a look of pure disgust. Not only had James impregnated a Negro, but he had just tried to kill him to prevent her beating. Those facts began to fester and boil within Jesse, bringing the demon that lived within him racing to the surface. He suddenly gained a strength in his arm that had never been matched while whipping a slave in times past. The image of a Negro grandchild, with Adams’ blood coursing through its veins, suddenly began to attack as repulsive visions in Jesse’s head. The very moment the vision surfaced, he lashed Lily’s limp body with brute force. Again, an image of a Negro child that bore a resemblance to him materialized in his mind, strengthening the evil forces inside of him, and yet again he lashed. The sound of his son’s gun firing in his direction rang again loudly in his head, and again he lashed. As the visions overwhelmed him, Jesse continued to swing like a madman over and over again, every stinging lash more violent than the last. Each blow was carried out with life-ending intent, all motivated by a deep-seated hatred for his Negro grandchild, and for Lily for being the vessel that carried it.
Jesse whipped Lily so violently that the rope holding her gave away and she fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. But that did not stop Jesse’s assault. He had completely lost control over himself. Even though Lily had long since ceased movement, he continued inflicting an immense amount of untamed brutality. He unleashed a fury of malicious kicks and stomps to her head and abdomen all over again. His onslaught was so barbaric, all other slaves instinctively huddled together and began praying for the lives of Lily and her baby. J.R. and Jacob, in turn, cheered their father on while he delivered one violent blow after another until he completely exhausted himself. With his overworked heart near ready to burst, Jesse bent over trying to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. Angry that he had no more strength to continue his assault, he spit on Lily as a final expression of his hatred for her.
Huffing and puffing, Jesse walked over to where James remained as a prisoner underneath J.R. and Jacob’s weight. They had perched themselves loyally on top of their brother, holding his head up during the entire event to be sure he saw every gruesome detail of what happens when an Adams dishonors the family. Both men slammed James’s face into the ground as Jesse approached. Still breathing hard, Jesse loomed over his son for a moment, disrespectfully letting his sweat drip down onto him. He then squatted and lifted James’s head up by his hair, revealing the dirt on his face that had turned to mud from the sea of tears that had flowed through it. “I ain’t raise you to be no goddamn nigga’ lova’,” Jesse said. He then spit in James’s face. “Just like I promised ya’, I’ma let you watch that bitch die.” He slammed James’s head back down hard onto the ground and stood up. He then kicked James in the gut with all his might and spit on him again. “Y’ur no longa’ my son,” he then professed. Those were Jesse’s last words before he left with J.R. to get his stab wound treated by Gideon. Jesse rode away with his two oldest sons, hoping that the carnage he left behind was enough to convey his unforgiving disgust for his own flesh and blood.
When his brothers and father were gone, James crawled to his feet, ran, and slid on his knees next to his wife, whose face was now unrecognizable. He took his shirt off and placed it on Lily’s back, which was covered in a multitude of crisscross, bloody stripes. He then gently wrapped her nude body in his jacket before cradling her in his arms. “Lily!” he yelled repeatedly, frantically shaking her. “Wake up! Can you hear me?!”
Lily’s body suddenly stiffened, every muscle as rigid as wood. When James realized she was in the throes of a seizure, he broke down into tears again. Such an extreme bodily reaction confirmed that Lily’s internal damage was equally as traumatic as the external. While drenching her in tears, James rocked back and forth with Lily’s bloody body pressed close to his, loudly begging God not to take her away. With his mind and heart paralyzed by shock and fear all James had the mental wherewithal to do was cradle Lily in his arms and pray. He touched her face gently, and he prayed. He kissed her, and he prayed. He wept for his beloved wife, and he prayed like he had never prayed before ever in his life, tearfully pleading with God to bring Lily back from the brink of death.
All the other slaves began to gather around James and Lily, forming a circle around them. Corrina dropped to her knees, put her hands together and began to pray along with James. Another slave then fell to his knees beside her, and another and another, until all had followed suit. Absent fear of consequences, they all knelt before their battered friend and prayed in silence. Some held their hands in the air, some had their hands gripped tightly together, some were touching Lily’s body with
their heads bowed, hoping to send the strength of their prayers straight through her. Each in their own style, they had become one, praying in unison, asking God to spare the life of their dear friend.
Despite all the prayers, Lily remained completely unconscious. Her breathing began to slow, and her body continued to repeatedly shiver and seize, externally expressing that her brain had indeed received substantial trauma. In a moment of mental clarity, James told Corrina to go and retrieve his medical bag from his horse. When one of Lily’s seizures subsided and her body relaxed, James picked her up and carried her into the slave quarters, trying his best to pull himself together enough to provide her with sufficient medical attention. He knew it was vital to disconnect himself emotionally during a serious emergency, the way he had been taught, but that heavily engrained teaching was a damn near impossible task to carry out while his own wife and baby were the patients that lay dying before his very eyes.
After wiping the tears from his eyes, James finally began examining every detail of Lily’s wounds. The countless number of black and blue bruises riddled across her abdomen instantly made him nauseous. There was hardly an inch of her skin that had not been tattooed by Jesse’s heavy work boots. James’s stomach was usually like steel when dealing with grisly injuries, but after looking at Lily in that condition, he went into the corner and threw up. After evacuating every ounce of his stomach contents, James walked back over wanting to caress the place where his baby lay but feared that even the slightest touch would bring Lily more pain.
After Corrina ran in with his medical supplies, James pulled himself together enough to begin the painstaking process of delicately cleaning Lily’s wounds. He rectally administered medication for pain and to reduce swelling. He then carefully treated, dressed, and stitched her lacerations as best he could. However, it was not her external wounds that troubled James the most. Just thinking about the unknown extent of Lily’s internal injuries had him teetering on the verge of vomiting again. With the brute force his father had beaten her, James feared Lily may be bleeding internally, that the baby may be in distress, or that there may even be catastrophic swelling in her brain. With both of Lily’s eyes swollen shut, James had no way of checking her pupil’s reaction to light to help give him a clear sign of brain activity. However, he knew that her seizures and lack of response to stimuli were two serious indicators of how severe the brain trauma truly was. He just prayed that the damage was not irreversible. The only thing that gave him hope was the fact that Lily’s temperature had risen. He saw it as a sign that her body was trying to heal itself. For now, James just appreciated the fact that Lily was still breathing. Her breaths may have been extremely labored, but she was still breathing nonetheless. For that, he silently thanked God.
After securing the last of Lily’s bandages, James reverted from a doctor back into a loving husband. He gazed at Lily with an immense amount of love in his eyes and then let a gentle kiss linger on her forehead. “God please don’t take ’er away,” he quietly prayed as surge of tears rushed forward and moistened Lily’s battered face. He pulled back and caressed her cheek, wishing she would open her swollen eyes and gaze at him in return. The fact that she was incapable of something so simple made James now want answers as to how she had ended up in such grave condition. “What the hell happened while I’s gone?” he asked Corrina, who had been faithfully by his side helping. “How the hell did my fatha’ find out I’s the fatha’ of the baby?” he further questioned, still caressing Lily’s swollen cheek.
“I honestly don’t know the whole story yet. I think you need to talk to Abigail,” Corrina replied, referring to another slave. “I think she could tell you best.”
James kissed Lily again and then stood up. “I’ll be right back. Please don’t leave her side,” he asked of Corrina.
Corrina kneeled next to Lily and held her limp hand. “I won’t,” she assured him.
James walked out into the main area of the slave quarters where all the other slaves were waiting to hear an update about Lily. He stood in the center of the dilapidated building, looking as broken as any man would in such a situation. “I wanna know every detail ‘a what happened here today,” he said to everyone, his voice sounding completely void of emotion. He had emptied everything within him crying over Lily’s welfare. His mind had now retreated into a state of shock. “Why did my fatha’ do this to Lily?” He had asked the question to nobody in particular and so nobody bothered to respond. “Somebody tell me what the hell happened!” he suddenly snapped. “RIGHT NOW, GODDAMN IT!”
Henry looked over at Abigail, who was standing near James. “Go on and tell ’em what ya’ saw, Abigail,” he insisted of the naturally meek and quiet middle-aged woman.
James turned toward her and waited for her response, but she just stood there clasping her hands in front of her, looking visibly afraid to talk.
“Go on,” Henry insisted again. “He need to know.”
“L-Lily stabbed M-masa’ J.R.,” Abigail sheepishly explained.
“What?” James asked, scrunching his face in confusion. “W-why would she do that?”
Again, Abigail stood silent, fear gripping her words.
James had no desire to be patient. “Tell me why!” he erupted.
“Go on!” Henry yelled at Abigail. “Tell ’em what ya’ said ya’ saw!”
“I-I’s fetchin’ the wata’ pail off the back porch where Lily left it. I’s ’bout to walk away, but I-I heard glass breakin’ and bumpin’, like someone was fightin’ in the kitchen, and then I heard Lily screamin’ for help. I looked through the window and…” Abigail stopped and turned toward Henry again, looking as scared as a guilty child who was confessing her wrongdoings to her father.
“TELL ME!” James screamed, startling Abigail into finally spewing her knowledge.
“M-masa’ J.R. w-was forcin’ himself inside ‘a Lily, and she…”
“Enough!” James yelled, quickly throwing his hand up in the air to halt her. He initially thought he wanted every detail, but the disgusting mental images were more than his weak stomach could tolerate. Learning that his brother had also unleashed his demons on Lily, catapulted James out of shock and back into rage. He suddenly felt numb. He could not think, speak, or move; his mind and body were too busy preparing for the vengeance that he had just silently pledged against his father and brother.
James blew out a cleansing breath after collecting himself enough to hear the rest of the story. “Is that when Lily stabbed J.R.?” he asked Abigail, now wishing Lily would have slit his throat instead.
“Y-yessa’,” Abigail cautiously continued. “L-Lily was desperate to get ’em off ‘a her. She ran outta the house afta’ that, but J.R. caught ’er. I’s h-hidin’ around the corna’ of the house when they got to fightin’ outside. Then yo’ daddy and Masa’ Jacob came runnin’ ova’ to stop J.R. from tryna stab Lily. That’s when I ova’heard Masa’ J.R. tellin’ yo’ daddy that the baby was yours. He said Ms. Mary Jo had just told ’em the news while he was in town at the store. He said somethin’ about ’er havin’ letters that proved it was yo’ baby.”
James’s rage escalated tenfold after hearing who had initiated a major catastrophe. He closed his eyes, ran his hand through his hair, and blew out another angry breath as he silently added another person to his revenge list.
“Masa’ James!” Corrina suddenly called out from the other room, sounding frantic. “I need you in here!”
Upon hearing the panic in her voice, James’s homicidal thoughts ceased, and he bolted back into Lily’s room. He walked in and saw the look on Corrina’s face and his heart sank further into his stomach. “Wh-what is it Corrina?” he said, sounding afraid to even ask.
“I-I think Lily’s wata’ done broke,” Corrina replied, pointing to her blanket where a red-tinted water stain had pooled.
James looked down at the pool of moisture on Lily’s blanket, hoping that she had just evacuated her bladder. He saw the hint of blood but was not ready to ac
cept the fact that Lily’s body and their baby were in distress. He placed his hand on Lily’s abdomen and could easily feel her muscles contracting. With that, he had no choice but to accept the inevitable. “God no, please don’t let this happen,” he quietly prayed as a tear rolled down his cheek. Despite being dealt another blow, James forced himself to think straight. “Corrina, go and boil a big pot ‘a wata’. Quickly! Tell Henry to go round-up as many rags as he can find and heat them in the wata’. Hurry! The heat might stop ’er contractions.”
“Yessa’!” Corrina replied, darting quickly from the room.
James turned his attention back to Lily when Corrina left and held her hand. “Lily? Lily talk to me,” he said, hoping that maybe the pain from the contractions would wake her up. When she failed to have even a reflexive response to such horrific pain, James finally had to accept the fact that there was indeed swelling in Lily’s brain that had now caused her to fall into a comatose state.
When the towels were finished heating, James laid a few folded dry blankets across Lily’s abdomen as a buffer and then gently placed a steaming rag on top of them. He then stayed by Lily’s side for over an hour, switching out the hot towels every so often while vigilantly watching, waiting, and praying. Despite his efforts, Lily’s contractions continued like clockwork. With her body in such a relaxed state, her labor was progressing quickly. James could do nothing more but sit there helplessly and let nature run its course. With fear pumping through him in tidal waves, he finally gathered the heart to check Lily’s cervix. When he withdrew his fingers, he let out a heavy sigh knowing that he would soon become a father … three months before he was prepared to meet his tiny blessing.
