“John, I don’t know what you want with me, but I got my thoughts on it. I’m young, but I ain’t stupid. What’d you bring me out here for?” Hannah asked as she played with her gown, pushing it farther past her knees in modesty. She suddenly became aware of her body, her face, her hair, and her accelerating heart rate.
“To talk to you – I missed you. I want to be with you – more than just as a friend, Hannah. It may not be easy, my dear, but we can, and we will.” John scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist as he dipped her back towards the soft grass and weeds. Her head fell back onto the ground, causing her thick curls to spiral outward like rays of sun. He planted another kiss firmly on her as he pinned one of her arms back, pushing his lips into hers insistently. Hannah squirmed beneath him. Feelings of excitement and trepidation took over her body. He pinned down her other arm, resting his weight atop her as his lips covered hers with deep determination. She felt his strength. Strands of his hair fell upon her face, tickling her cheek. His command was different than when they were children. He was heavier, stronger, and powerful.
“We ain’t married, John!” Hannah broke free. “We can’t have marital relations.” She looked up at him wild-eyed.
“Why is it when we’d swim together you were never afraid of me? As soon as I express my love for you, you’re frightened of me?” John stood up and brushed himself off.
“It just ain’t right,” Hannah said, looking away at the water. Anger, shame, and guilt crept inside her.
“Why – because my father and your mother say so? They’re both ones to talk!” John yelled. Hannah looked at him for clarification.
“What are you saying?” she asked as she stood up.
“Hannah, you already know. That’s the one thing that always attracted me to you was your ability to play the game. You’re more aware than you let on. You have survival skills, and everyone thinks you’re some sweet, innocent darky. Please don’t pretend. Humor me with your intelligence tonight instead,” John said sarcastically as he lit his pipe again.
“He ain’t never been with my Mama!” Hannah said defiantly.
“It’s not always about relations, Hannah. Sometimes a relationship can exist that’s deeper or never includes that at all. Like you and me right now. Did your mother ever tell you why my father bought her?” John asked as he raised one thick, black eyebrow.
“Master Corbin had a heart attack,” Hannah answered, crossing her arms over her heaving chest.
“No. Your mother killed Master Corbin,” John said calmly.
“You liar!” Hannah ran towards John swinging her arms wildly. She lunged towards his face, her fingers spread like a cat’s, ready to attack. He grabbed her firmly by her thin wrists, restraining her as he pushed her back forcefully into the tree. Her legs kicked frantically as he pinned her to the bark with his body.
“I’m not lying! Now you listen, and you listen good! Mama Mary was fighting for her life. Master Corbin beat her black-and-blue on a daily basis. Everyone knew what was going on around here. I overheard the entire, sordid story when I was very young. Your mother and my father were talking about it one evening when they thought we were asleep.
Master Corbin was so afraid of your mother running away, he tried to break her, make her fear him completely and unequivocally. He had an obsession for your mother. He had his way with her countless times, resulting in the conception and birth of several children. His wife was so very jealous of your mother, and what she perceived as his love for her, that she’d often tell lies resulting in Mama Mary being beaten more. He sold her children to control her, even though some were his own. He was a vile man.
My father was paying him a visit regarding some cattle and iron. He saw your mother bloody from head to toe in the wee hours of the morning. Master Corbin was face down in his own blood with his knickers ’round his ankles. My father instructed her to say that he fell and hit his head on a rock. My father presented him proper before reporting his death. That’s what happened. It’s the cold, hard truth of the matter,” John spoke, his voice raised, but calm.
Hannah shook with disbelief. She couldn’t imagine her mother doing such a thing. John embraced her. She resisted, then melted into his arms, sobbing.
“No woman, white, Indian or colored, should be forced to endure what Mama Mary did. I’m sorry. You needed to know the truth, though,” John said softly into Hannah’s ear.
“Why did your father help my mama instead of reporting her?” Hannah asked as she looked up at him, tears streaming rapidly down her silky face.
“Because he was in love with her,” John answered. “He was married to my mother, but they had a marriage of convenience. Their families were well-off and friendly. It was arranged. You know marriage is simply a contract. It’s strictly for appearances. Most of the men I fought were married but in love with another. It’s just how it is. I don’t believe that my parents were in love, but from what I gather, they did have a mutual respect. Anyway, my father believes that marriage and relations between whites and Negroes is against the law of God, or so he says,” John smirked, blowing more smoke into the air.
“My father says one thing, but his heart and actions speak differently. He and I’ve butted heads more times than I can count as of late. He has no inclination that I know his surreptitious deeds. This is where being an astute listener, eavesdropper, and curious child comes in handy. To carry on with your quandary, though, my mother loved your mother too. Your mama was my mother’s favorite servant. She asked my father to make sure that Mama Mary was always taken care of and to give her a nice bedroom. He followed her dying wishes. It’s also rumored that my mother knew that my father loved Mama Mary and wanted her in close proximity upon her passing. Like you and me, Hannah, my father grew up with your Mama. Your grandmother was my father’s nanny. In me, he sees the same thing playing out again. He calls it a curse; I call it a blessing.” John kissed Hannah’s tear-streaked face feverishly.
“If he loved her, how could he let her be with another?” Hannah asked as John held her.
“This is where my father and his offspring differ, my dear Hannah. My father has to keep up appearances. He’d rather be caught dead than admit the desire of his heart, so he went on and did what he would’ve done with any childbearing slave – breed her.
“This is too much for me. I can’t understand. I can’t,” Hannah said, shaking her head as the tears continued to flow.
“You can understand; you do understand, and you always knew, in here.” John tapped Hannah’s chest with two fingers, right over her heart.
“But what about all the mulattos he got rid of? If Master Stewart feels this way how could he – have those children?” Hannah asked as she looked up innocently into John’s luminous eyes. John was silent for a moment, reflective.
“I don’t know why he did it. I suppose he was lonely. He declined to remarry, though many single women climbed at the opportunity to have a well-established, handsome gentlemen with lots of land and a large house. From their perspective, he only had the one child so that made him a catch as well. I do know that your mother and he have an arrangement that they refuse to disclose to anyone. My brothers and sisters are up north,” John said as he looked down at the ground with a sullen expression. “Father and I don’t discuss it. I was prohibited from interacting with them, just as you were. He’s yet to admit to me that they’re my kin. Matter of fact, he blatantly denies it.”
“My mother tells me I have to stay pure for as long as I can, John. She wants me to be married. I want to be married too,” Hannah blurted as her mind raced with thoughts and fears of her bearing John’s children and his leaving her, ultimately sending their children up north.
“Where do you get such notions, Hannah? I wouldn’t suggest that you give yourself to me under any other conditions. I wouldn’t ask that you be placed in such debauchery, especially on account of my desires,” John assured sternly. “A kiss is my way of showing you that I’m sincere. Co
nsummation would be done in honor, if you’d have me.”
“John, I need to ask you a question,” Hannah said as she sat back down in the grass. John joined her.
“Yes?” he said, looking at her with great interest.
“Have you ever…have you ever…” Hannah tripped over her modesty, unable to ask the question. “Have you ever been with – a woman – in that way?”
“Yes,” John answered. “I did so while I was away. Does that concern you? Men have needs, you know?” he said sincerely. “It had nothing to do with love, I assure you. They were working girls sent to take care of our needs.”
“I think I better go now,” Hannah said as she stood up to walk away. “I was hopin’ and prayin’ tonight would be like old times, but instead you told me things that make me question every thing I know.” John took her hand softly, turning her back towards him.
“Hannah, I asked you to meet me out here so I could tell you everything. I want no secrets between us. I missed you, too. I wanted you to know these things, but you mustn’t tell a soul.”
“I won’t. I’ll keep it to myself.”
“I’ll walk you back, Hannah. Let’s go together.” Hannah picked up her lantern as they headed back towards the house. The night air was thick and ever-watching. John broke the silence.
“Hannah, I’ll always give you my honesty. I love you not only because I’ve known you so long, but because you’re a beautiful young woman. Your voice is angelic. Your presence is sweet yet powerful. You’re cunning, too. Things happen in lifetimes that many can’t explain or account for, but the enchantment between two people, their love for one another, is real.”
“I love you too, John. I love with my whole heart – with my whole life,” Hannah said despondently.
“Sing me a song,” John asked as they continued to take leisurely strides towards Master Stewart’s estate.
“Swing low, sweet chariot, comin’ for to carry me home…”
* * *
CHAPTER 5
Two months later…
Hannah sat at the sewing machine in the drawing room. She looked at the large spools of golden and purple thread. Her excitement grew as she envisioned the gown she planned to create. Her mother had given her a bounty of quality yarn and thread for her as a birthday gift. Hannah threaded the needle and began her tedious work. Hours passed without her notice. She hummed as she moved the fabric to and fro. The afternoon sun broke through as her mother stepped into the room.
“You’re doin’ a good job,” Mary said as she looked over her daughter’s shoulder. “I did your chores this mornin’. Master Stewart said you can take dinner shift. You make pretty dresses, my precious baby – well, you ain’t a baby any more.” Mary kissed the top of her head. Hannah smiled.
“Thank you, Mama. I’m goin’ to make you one, too.”
“Well, that would be mighty fine.” Mary smiled as she pulled a chair close to Hannah. Hannah stopped sewing and looked at her mother. Her mother continued to smile, but something was behind the grin – something that she was chewing on that just wouldn’t come out.
“What is it, Mama?” Hannah asked.
“Ain’t no easy way to say this, Baby. I know how you feel about John,” Mary finally blurted.
“Has something happened to him?” Hannah exclaimed. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. Is he in London? He told me he had to go to London,” Hannah said excitedly.
“No, Baby. He’s back home now. John’s gettin’ married next week.” Mary looked deep into her daughter’s eyes and watched her pupils become barely visible. The light in her eyes dimmed like a candle being snuffed. Hannah’s face turned cold. Her heart sunk. She tried to hide the tears that filled her eyes, but it was no use.
“Hannah, you been livin’ in some fairy tale. I know it hurts. I know it does, but John is a commodity, and he can’t be runnin’ around playin’ with you for the rest of his life. He’s grown now. He’s gotta get married and have a family of his own and have his own business. I know you cared for him. I know you did. I’ve been worried sick about you sneakin’ around wit’ him, too! I knew when you was leavin’, meetin’ him in the woods. I may not have known about every time, but I knew enough. I prayed every time that nothin’ bad would happen to you. I knew I couldn’t keep you from him, though. I could tie you to your bed and you’d find a way out. You’re a sly child – always was.”
“Mama, who’s he marryin’?” Hannah asked trying to regain her composure.
“Now Hannah, none of that matters. You just need to forget about John. He went to England for schooling on a class. He’s goin’ to the university for Law. He and his wife have their own house not far from here that was just built. I need you to accept what I’m tellin’ you,” Mary said as she gripped her daughter’s trembling arms.
“I’m fine, Mama. Really, I am. Thank you for tellin’ me.” She spun around in her chair and started to sew again. Mary looked at her contemplatively. She crossed her arms and looked up and down at her little girl, now a young woman, right before her eyes. Heartbreak is everlasting and has a way of maturing someone.
“These are my thoughts I’ll never say aloud to you,” Mary thought to herself. “I know the pain in your heart. I know it personally. I promise you it won’t get easier. Do you hear me? It won’t get easier! You only live to bear it, Baby. Each day becomes a test to see how much mo’ brutality you can take. You ask God to make you void or to kill you in your tracks sometimes. For some reason, God cursed us African people with dark skin so our enemy could spot us and make us pay for crimes we never did. My life’s been nothin’ but stolen daydreams, painful tears, and anger so strong it could stop a beatin’ heart within a mile. You fell in love. Now you’ll wake up tomorrow morning, full of heartbreak – innocence stolen and spirit broken, like a captured horse.”
Mary slowly stood up and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Hannah continued to sew vigorously throughout the evening. As she felt waves of intermittent grief, she’d quickly gather herself and continue along her line of work. She worked tirelessly until it was time for dinner. Hannah stood up from the chair and stretched. The waning sun cast colors of crimson, pink, and mustard. On days like this, she’d sit on the porch with John with a glass of lemonade as he told her jokes. Sometimes he’d sneak her by the large tree and teach her a few new words and sound out the alphabet. She remembered the first time he kissed her hand and told her that he loved her. She stood there with her skinny wet body and saturated pigtails looking at him with one eye open while trying to keep water from dripping in the other. The sun’s rays spiraled around them, trying to grab them and whisk them away to Heaven.
“Boy, you don’t even know what love is!” Hannah laughed as she jumped back in the water.
“I do, too! I love you Hannah! You’re gonna be my wife! I mean, going to be my wife!” Little John proclaimed as loud as he could as he leaped into the water, his pale body moving freely under the current. Even in the summer heat, his skin never seemed to tan. It made his uncommonly dark hair for such a skin tone all the more alluring. He swam towards her, taking her arm and kissing it all the way down to her hand. “I’m going to marry you. I don’t care if you’re a Negro,” he said, showing his snaggle-toothed, eight-year-old grin.
Hannah shoved the memory out of her mind and exited the drawing room abruptly. She headed down to the kitchen and placed an apron around her small waist. She began to meticulously wash the glasses; fold the crisp, white linens; and prepare the freshly brewed iced tea. She looked out the corner of her eye and noticed John standing there. He held his hat to his chest as he looked at her. It appeared he hadn’t slept in days. Her heart raced. She turned towards him and looked him squarely in the face, then swiftly turned away and walked to the expansive dining room table as she laid out the silverware, trying to push his image out of her thoughts.
“Hannah,” John whispered, clearing his throat. “I need to speak to you.”
“Well then speak, John,”
Hannah said harshly. The other servants looked at John then back at Hannah as they went about their duties. Their peering eyes congregated discreetly around the unfolding scene.
“Alone, I need to speak to you alone.” John said, his voice rising with obvious irritation.
“I ain’t goin’ no where wit’ you! Now go ‘head and speak or get!” Hannah yelled, her back still towards him. A hush came over the room. There was alarm at Hannah’s blatantly disrespectful tone. Andrea, the head cook, raced out the kitchen to find Mary.
“I’m not speaking in front of the…” John explained.
“In front of the slaves? In front of all of us Niggers? Why not, John? Ain’t nothin’ we can do about it. You can do whatever you wanna do and ain’t nothin’ we can do about it! Just pretend like we ain’t here, John. You do it so well.” Hannah placed her hand on her hip. She looked sternly down at the dining room table as she continued to place the silverware neatly on the table. Her body trembled with rage. John looked at her before finally turning away and hastily walking out.
“Hannah!” Mary yelled. “I done raised you better than that! You know better than to speak to him like that. If Master Stewart gets wind of this, he’s gonna punish you! You can’t talk to his boy like that!” Hannah twisted away from Mary belligerently. Mary grabbed Hannah’s arm and escorted her upstairs. Hannah resisted, her face swollen with budding tears and hot from the recent confrontation. Her feet stomped up the steps while Mary held her close, her fingers digging into her obstinate daughter’s flesh. Mary shoved her into the bedroom and slammed the door. Before Mary could lay into her daughter, the bedroom door swung back open. Master Stewart stood there looking at the two women. He came inside, closing the door behind him.
“What you here for? You here to rub it in my face what you and John cooked up?” Hannah screamed. Mary slapped Hannah hard across the face. Hannah turned away, her hair falling to her shoulders.
The Slave Master's Son Page 3
