The Slave Master's Son

by Laveen, Tiana

  “Mama, your slaps don’t hurt me. Can’t nothin’ hurt me worse than I been hurt today! Go ahead and whoop me, Master Stewart, for tellin’ your child a thang or two! I’m tired of bein’ quiet and watchin’ everyone be miserable for the sake of somebody else. That somebody might even be dead, but the livin’ still stayin’ miserable. Go on and whoop me. It won’t hurt. Let’s just get it on over wit’ so I can go back to pretendin’ I got something to live for!” Hannah begged as tears came down her face. Mary was startled at Hannah’s continued defiance. Master Stewart crossed his arms in front of himself. He sucked his teeth, causing his thick, silver mustache to bounce atop his upper lip.

  “Hannah, you and my son have been friendly since you were babes. You need to understand that he’ll always be your friend, but he has the right to be married and have a family. This wasn’t done to hurt you. John is going back to school. The war is still continuing, but my hopes are that he not return to it. Instead, I wish for him to keep forward with school and establish himself. He’s a very bright boy and is quite fond of you. When he makes the occasional visit, I promise to alert you so that you can say hello.” Master Stewart cleared his throat.

  “That’s very kind of you, Master,” Mary said as she held her daughter close to her bosom. Hannah wiped the tears from her face.

  “I don’t want to think about this anymore. May I please finish dinner preparation?” she asked her mother.

  “Yes, but I don’t wanna hear nothin’ like that again. You hear me?” Mary scolded.

  “Yes, Mama,” Hannah responded as she walked past Master Stewart and disappeared down the steps, back down to the kitchen and dining room. Master Stewart stood still as he looked at Mary. He looked at the wet, soiled stains on her dress where her daughter poured grief for his son.

  “Well, Mary, it looks like it’s happened again,” Master Stewart said curtly as he looked towards the floor and shook his head. “It’s a curse. I want what’s best for my son, and you want what’s best for your Hannah.” He walked out the room leaving Mary standing there alone, reliving her own trauma when she discovered Master Stewart was getting married.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 6

  Hannah sat up in her bed, not saying a word. The music and festivities from the wedding reception boomed throughout the house. Hannah folded the linens for the wedding dinner herself. The bride, Gayle Douglas, had explicit instruction for how she wanted everything. John stayed away from the house while Gayle made the seating arrangements and dinner menu.

  “She was a sight to behold!” Hannah heard someone say shrilly. Hannah held her ankles and nestled her head on her knees as she envisioned what everyone was doing. As the wedding began, she stole a peek and saw Gayle dressed like a Queen. Her long veil covered her face and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back and pinned up so high it reminded Hannah of a pinecone. She saw the back of John. He did not notice her as he straightened out his jacket. His hair had been trimmed except for the front and sideburns. A thick swirl of black hair flopped over his right eye. He repeatedly pushed it away from his sullen face. His eyes were bloodshot and his smile unmistakably artificial.

  Hannah’s mother was amongst them offering trays of food to the guests. Hannah sat up for hours until her mother came up to the bedroom. She watched as her mother disrobed and put on her long, cream-colored nightgown. Mary looked over at Hannah as she made a fire.

  “Baby, what you still doin’ awake?”

  “Just thinkin’,” Hannah responded as she covered herself with the quilt.

  “Get some sleep – big day tomorrow. We got a big clean-up early in the mornin’ and have to serve breakfast for the wedding party.” Mary sighed as she slid into her bed and drifted quickly to sleep. Hannah gripped her thin pillow, trying to submit to slumber. She finally drifted off only to have sharp, torrid nightmares in which she witnessed the wedding kiss, over and over again. It was two in the morning when Hannah woke to heavy breathing by her ear. She turned quickly, frightened, not sure if she was dreaming. She looked and saw John. The dying fire cast enough light upon him to assure his identity. He put his finger up to his lips.

  “Shhh,” he said as he took her hand. Hannah followed, her bare feet cold against the floor. He led her to the rear of the home’s top floor. She’d only been there once and that was years ago. It had huge, arched rafters; uneven floors; and expansive, wide rooms, most of which were empty. It stayed unusually chilly there. They walked past room after room until finally, John stopped at one bedroom door. He took a key out of his pocket, flipped his hair back, and opened the large, barn-like door that seemed oddly out of place. He reached for Hannah’s hand again and led her inside.

  She quickly noticed an assortment of white candles lining a dresser on the opposite side of the room, illuminating the quarters with their warm, dancing flames. She looked all around and realized she was in John’s massive bedroom. During all her years, she’d never been in his bedroom. They often would fall asleep together in the sitting room on the first floor or sometimes even in Mama Mary’s bed, one of them on each side of her, curled up like newborn puppies. She continued to scan the room. There was an elaborate fireplace with a roaring, crackling fire. His room was fit for a prince. His bed was much like his fathers – magnificent and stately. His closet door stayed open, exposing his suits, trousers, boots, and horse-riding gear. On the other side of the room was his expansive gun collection of which he took great pride. He took her hand, picked her up, and sat her on his bed like a precious doll. He took a photo from under his bed and sat down next to her.

  “You see that? That’s us as babies,” John said, smiling. Hannah looked at the photo with the curled ends. There she was, plump and brown, smiling with a mouth void of teeth. Her hair was dark and soft. She laid close to John who was obviously an older toddler. Hannah smiled.

  “I wish I could remember that,” she finally said. Her smile quickly disappeared. “What am I doing here?” she asked.

  “This is our wedding night,” he breathed heavily into her ear.

  “It ain’t mine, it’s yours!” Hannah retorted, gaining her composure as she sunk back into reality. John walked out the bedroom door. Just as she prepared to go after him, he returned with an elderly Black man, Mason, a slave who no longer worked the fields. Everyone knew Mason. He studied the Bible and was ordained.

  “Mason, as I discussed with you this morning, I need you to marry Ms. Hannah and me. This is the woman I truly love. I want to exchange vows – genuine vows this time.” John looked at Hannah lovingly. Mason slowly walked towards Hannah. His wrinkled, sunken skin and glaucoma-covered eyes may have frightened many, but to Hannah, he may as well have been a long-lost grandfather.

  “This is crazy. You can’t have two wives. You can’t legally marry me,” Hannah exclaimed as she walked towards the door.

  “I don’t care what the law says. Sometimes we have to do what’s best, even if the law doesn’t support it. Yes, I married Gayle tonight. I had no choice. I don’t want her. I wish she could have someone that did, but it isn’t me. I want you.” John explained.

  “Where is she?” Hannah asked with worry in her voice. She shifted her weight to one hip, trying to control the anger she felt building up inside.

  “She’s at our house, asleep. I’ve been planning this ever since I was told she and I was going to be married. I tried to talk to you about it in the kitchen, but you were too angry to listen. I’m not married to her in my heart, and I refuse to be her husband. I’ll be married to you and only you. Mason is about to marry us before God. Don’t you think that God knows who we really love? Go ahead, Mason,” John said, exhausted.

  John stood by Hannah, keeping her close to him. Mason began to speak. Hannah couldn’t believe what was happening. After some preliminary words, Mason looked at both of them and said, “Face each other, children.” Hannah turned and looked at John while he held her hand.

  “In the name of Jesus, I, John Stewart, take you, Hannah Davi
s, to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, for as long as we both shall live. This is my solemn vow.” Mason led Hannah, line by line, through her vows.

  “In the name of Jesus, I, Hannah Davis, take you, John Stewart, to be my husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, for as long as we both shall live. This is my solemn vow.”

  “John, you may present the ring to Hannah,” Mason directed, his voice shaking. John reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, gold wedding band. He slid it onto Hannah’s finger.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. John, you may kiss the bride,” Mason said in his rickety tone. John bent his six-foot-three-inch frame towards Hannah and kissed her gently. Mason looked at the two of them and took them by the arms.

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways, children. Be strong. Do what you must to stay together. Fight evil and love one another.” John shook Mason’s hand, thanked him, and walked him down the flight of stairs as Hannah sat in disbelief. A few minutes later the bedroom door slowly opened and John reappeared.

  “My father thinks I left with Gayle,” he said as he closed the bedroom door and locked it. He’d returned with some of the reception food.

  “I could barely eat tonight. Are you hungry?” he asked as he sat on the bed beside Hannah and smirked. She shook her head “no.”

  “What’s funny?” Hannah asked.

  “You.” He kissed her nose and poured two glasses of wine, then lifted them for a toast.

  “To Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. That’s your last name now,” he said as he clinked their glasses together. Hannah giggled as she took a sip. John gulped his.

  He held her close, kissing her cheek. She resisted the urge to pull back. Then realization seeped in.

  “This is our wedding night. I know what that means,” she thought to herself.

  “John, you supposed to be with your real wife. The wedding night’s sacred.” Hannah snapped herself back into reality.

  “Hannah, this is our wedding night. I didn’t marry Gayle in my heart. God knows I didn’t.” John kissed her passionately as he ran his fingers over her thick curls. Hannah was overcome. Her fear turned to excitement as she watched John walk to his bedroom door and turn the knob to make sure it was locked. He walked to the other side of the room and leisurely disrobed. Hannah had seen him naked many times before, but tonight was different. His body had changed from the war. His youthful slenderness was replaced with substantial muscle tone and battle scars.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. Hannah slowly stood up from the bed and unbuttoned her nightgown. She let it fall to the floor while John visually explored her trembling nude body. He unhurriedly walked towards her.

  “You’re beautiful, Hannah,” he whispered as he lightly rubbed her shoulders. His fingertips drifted down towards her full breasts. He gently rubbed her taut, dark coffee nipples then traveled to her stomach, pressing his hard body into her softness as he kissed her cheek. He gingerly picked her up and placed her down on the expansive bed. Hannah looked up at John as he moved his naked body over hers. Her eyes widened as she was seized with trepidation.

  “John, I’m scared,” she uttered between bated breaths.

  “Don’t be. I promise to be gentle,” he assured. Hannah shook as if she were a cold kitten caught in the rain on a winter’s night. John covered their exposed bodies with the layers of soft quilts. He kissed her sweetly, taking his time. He rubbed her arms, warming her as he hummed a song in her ear.

  “That ring on your finger is your wedding band. It means you’re married – married to me. It’s a symbol of the promises we made to each other tonight,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I love you, John,” she said quietly.

  “I love you too. I love you more than I could ever fully express, my dear.” John carefully spread Hannah’s legs with his own. He slowly explored her nether region with his erect penis. She gasped as she felt him slowly insert himself. She held onto his back tightly as he took her virginity with sweet, gentle determination. She pushed her feet into the footboard as she braced herself by gripping one of the quilts tightly. She winced as his body claimed hers, over and over again. Tears rolled down her face as the pain and love she felt merged.

  She was told by her mother to just get through it when the time came, but this was nothing like what she expected. She enjoyed being with John. Having him inside her seemed so right. She watched as he closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. She instinctively let go of the quilt and wrapped her arms around his neck. His thrusts slowly intensified as they held on tightly to one another.

  “I love you,” he whimpered as he released inside his beloved bride. He breathed heavily, panting as he lay his head on her warm breasts. He swallowed deeply, taking in shallow bits of air as his heart raced like a scared runaway Stallion. He rose and smiled down at her.

  “You’re my dream come true,” he whispered as he kissed her nose.

  “Don’t you have to get home – to her?” Hannah asked weakly.

  “No, this is where I belong. You’re my wife. I’ll go before breakfast.” Hannah kissed John’s shoulder as he massaged her arms with his large hands. He leaned in closer, wrapping her legs with his own as they continued caressing.

  “I’ll take care of you and protect you for the rest of your days,” he said as a single tear escaped Hannah’s eye.

  After embracing for what seemed an eternity as time stood still, John re-clothed himself, and Hannah followed suit. He carried her down the steps, back to her bedroom. He pushed the door open with his shoulder. Mary rose suddenly and watched silently as her daughter was delicately placed onto her mattress. John kissed Hannah’s forehead. Mary took note of his partially buttoned shirt, bare feet, and disheveled hair. She looked at both of them in astonishment. He kissed Hannah’s lips one last time, then made his way back towards the bedroom door.

  He turned to Mary and said, “Mama Mary, I’m terribly in love with your daughter. I assure you I’ll protect her and keep her safe from this day forward. I know that you saw me marry another this evening, but your daughter – she’s my true bride.” As he disappeared, Mary walked over to her daughter’s side. Hannah sat up in bed, her quilt wrapped around her aching but satisfied body.

  “Tell me right now what you and John done,” Mary demanded, her voice shaking.

  “Mama, we got married. Mason married us.”

  “You means to tell me that Mason conducted a marriage ceremony for you two! I saw John get married to that other gal with my own eyes. Hannah, I done told you that you can’t marry John. It ain’t law.”

  “Mama, it’s law to us. We promised God we’d do right by each other.”

  Mary nodded. She realized that there was no convincing Hannah.

  “Are you still chaste?” Mary asked as she slowly pulled back the quilt from her daughter’s body. Hannah did not answer. Embarrassment and shame crept inside. Mary peeked under her daughter’s gown and saw the evidence she was looking for. Mary slowly stood up and went to the water basin, dampening a cloth. She rung it out and sat back down beside her daughter.

  “Please don’t be upset, Mama!” Hannah whispered, crying hysterically. Mary patted her tears away.

  “At least you did it ’cause you in love. Right or wrong, you in love. You didn’t have it taken from you like I did. You didn’t have to barter it or it be taken. You got married to the man you love, and for that, you ain’t gonna never have regrets,” Mary sobbed as she cleaned her daughter’s body.

  “The first time I was in love, Hannah, was with a man named James. He was a slave in the field over there on that plantation that ain’t been cared for in years now. He was smitten with me. I wanted to build a life with him. We planned to run away together. I was only twelve. I already had my first baby against my will, but he didn’t mind;
he still wanted me.” Mary continued to cry as she gently patted her daughter clean. “Somehow, someone found out what we was plannin’. James…James was whipped in front of me and sold, and I was beaten within an inch of my life. They raped me right in front of him,” Mary sobbed.

  “Mama, I’m sorry.” Hannah cried as her mother turned away.

  “The second time I falls in love, he went off and married another woman just like your John did. Only mine never came back until it was too late.” Mary looked at Hannah’s gold ring, shimmering and smooth.

  “John give you that?” Mary asked, wiping her tears from her face.

  “Yes, Mama. He gave it to me as we said our vows. It’s a real wedding ring,” Hannah smiled.

  “It sure is pretty,” Mary smiled and laughed. “I know John is a good man, but that ain’t the point. He’s a white man, a wealthy white man, at that. He done had some ceremony with you, gave you a ring and everything, and took your virtue all in one fell swoop. I’m very afraid for the both of you. I can’t believe he was held up with you while his wife lay alone somewhere. I don’t understand this. I can’t wrap my head no ways around it. I know that you both are convinced that this is real, and ain’t no sense in arguing with the convinced. Don’t tell a living soul about this. Don’t tell nobody you two married, and don’t tell nobody you ain’t pure no more. It’ll bring harm to you both,” Mary said sternly, shaking her finger in Hannah’s face.

  “I won’t, Mama. I’m going to wear the ring around my necklace until it’s safe to wear it on my finger, but I ain’t never takin’ if off.”

  “That’s fine, Baby. I know you a woman now, but you still my baby.” Mary kissed her daughter’s forehead and returned to her bed, holding the cloth in her hand as she drifted away into painful memories and what-if dreams.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 7

  “He hasn’t laid so much as a finger on me!” hollered Gayle to her mother. “Not one!”