The Slave Master's Son

by Laveen, Tiana

  “Due to the recent events, I have no idea how long it will take to reverse the damage. You and my father will have your desires met for a short while then when the opportunity arises, I’ll continue along my charted path. You won’t be included nor will you be in my thoughts or concerns. You’ve double-crossed me, so consider yourself closed off from further communication regarding this matter.” Gayle cried quietly into her hands.

  “I’m a virtuous woman, John,” she finally spoke. “Your – slave girl is gone. I was assured! It’s time you accept what you have in front of you and stop looking back. She’s not returning. It’s just you and me now.” She stood up with her arms open, trying to mask her obvious rage. John turned away from her before slowly standing up and retreating to their bedroom. Gayle followed behind.

  “After awhile, you’ll see that this is best, and I have full faith that you’ll reciprocate.” John dismissed her with a wave of his hand before sitting on the edge of their bed.

  “I hate her!” Gayle screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice trembling. Her hands were balled up tightly as more tears flowed. John stood back up. He looked deep into Gayle’s eyes. They stood staring at one another as the flicker of the lantern illuminated the cedar-planked bedroom.

  “I wish she were dead,” she continued before closing the door and leaving him to his thoughts. John laid in the bed and drifted off to sleep. He had nightmares of Hannah being dragged away followed by dreams of their wedding-night lovemaking. He smiled to himself, tears rolling down his cheeks as their evening at the river rolled out scene by scene in his subconscious.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  “It’s Henry,” the man corrected. “My name’s Henry.” Henry stood lofty and strapping. His rich, velvety, midnight complexion was marred only by the occasional blemish from a fist fight or punishment from Master Washington.

  “I don’t too much care what your name is,” Hannah answered as she prepared her spinning wheel in the one-room, diminutive house. Henry bent towards the ground as he entered the cabin. The ceilings hung low. There was a table covered with needles and thread.

  “Don’t come down here with a bunch of high-and-mighty ways. You ain’t no better than the rest of us. Now, I’m sorry that you’re upset and all, but I ain’t responsible for that there,” Henry explained as he rubbed his short, cropped hair. Hannah sat down at her spinning wheel and looked over the colors of thread she had before her.

  “What are you doin’?” Henry asked as he sat down in a chair beside her. Hannah looked him up and down.

  “I see you’ve made yourself at home,” she grimaced.

  “Well, seein’ as how I lives here too, I think I should. I was told this my place to now.” Hannah grunted, shifted her weight, and tended to her wheel once more.

  “You sew?” Henry interrupted once more.

  “It’d appear that way, now wouldn’t it?” Hannah snapped, avoiding eye contact.

  “You sure got a sassy mouth. They said you was a sneaky one, but no one said you got a snake for a tongue,” Henry teased. Hannah smirked as she pulled a few feet of white thread from the spool.

  “There’s a smile,” Henry laughed. “Hannah, I’m pleased to meet you.” He stuck out his massive hand. Hannah looked down at Henry’s palm. It was rough, calloused, and twice the size of hers. She shook his hand weakly.

  “I s’pose they expect us to make babies,” Hannah said angrily.

  “It looks that way. ’Tween you and me. I ain’t happy ‘bout this nether. There’s a girl I want to marry, but Master Washington won’t let me. Don’t get me wrong, you’re prettier than a flower, but this just ain’t right.” Henry looked down into his hands, his large, dark expressive eyes glossing over.

  “I know it’s not, but we ain’t people, Henry, we’re chattels. I’m a married woman, but I’ll probably never see my husband again,” Hannah said grimly.

  “So you understand?” Henry asked as he stood up.

  “Yes.” Hannah looked at him stretching. She took notice of the thread-bareness of his shirt and his prominent rib cage.

  “Henry,” Hannah sighed. “Let me fix your shirt and fix you some beans.” She slowly stood up from the spinning wheel and walked over to the small stove with a boiling pot. Inside the oven was a thick cake of cornbread. Henry slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Hannah watched modestly, blushing. His chiseled chest contorted as he slid the shirt the rest of the way off, exposing well defined muscles that shined like apples. His full lips, slightly dry, looked like two deep red pillows. The whites of his eyes were startling, their beauty only surpassed by the starlit sky. Long, thick eyelashes accentuated the stunning, yet troubled set of windows to his soul. He sat down on the bed while Hannah stirred the beans. She handed him a large bowl with a spoon.

  “The cornbread will be ready soon, but you can start on this now.” She sat back down at her spinning wheel and worked expeditiously on his ripped shirt. A few minutes later, she handed it to him while pulling out the piping hot, buttery bread.

  “My eyes are playin’ tricks on me. I can’t find the holes no more, Hannah. I ain’t never seen a patch-up job like this. Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his spoon and dipped into the brown soupy gravy that accompanied the pinto beans. Slices of green pepper swam through it. Hannah raced over and opened her palm into his bowl, letting thinly sliced onions fall.

  “Thank you, kindly. This is good,” he added between hungry slurps. “Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome,” Hannah said solemnly. Over the last few days, Hannah had begrudgingly adjusted to her new surroundings. She’d anticipated hating whomever she was paired with. She’d already been told that someone was coming, and she wouldn’t be alone. She was prepared to find him repulsive, especially since she was a married woman. Something about Henry was different, however. She could feel the kindness and sincerity seep through his soul. She knew he wished her no harm, and that was comforting. She fixed herself a bowl of beans then cut the cornbread into large squares. She wrapped two up and walked over to the bed, sitting beside Henry. Handing him a piece, their hands briefly touched. They ate silently, their individual thoughts dancing in different directions. Afterwards, Hannah meticulously cleaned up. It helped her not think of John. Meanwhile, Henry laid back in the bed, his eyes lazy and tired. He began to drift off to sleep when he suddenly heard Hannah shuffling. He looked up and saw that her back was towards him in the corner. She stood by the lantern, flipping page after page in a large book, diligently trying to find where she’d left off.

  “What you doin’?” Henry barked. Hannah immediately closed the book closed.

  “Nothin’. Go on back to sleep,” she spat.

  “I ain’t sleepy.” Henry rose slowly, his large bare feet touching the dirt floor. “You readin’, ain’t you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Hannah did not respond. Instead, she poured herself a glass of warm water and sat down at the spinning wheel. Henry walked over and snatched the book out of her lap.

  “Give that back to me!” she shouted.

  “You’re feisty! Funny thing is, you really think you can get me!” Henry laughed. He watched as Hannah ran around him as if she was a child trying to get an apple from an out-of-reach branch. Henry waved the book in the air, laughing rowdily.

  “OK now. Here’s your book.” He handed it to her after getting his fill. He slumped back down on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and laughing. Hannah stood there, her chest heaving. She walked over to the bed and laid down beside him, opening the book to the last page she’d read.

  “What’s it about?” Henry asked, peering over her petite shoulder trying to see if there were any illustrations he could make out.

  “It’s called Frankenstein. It’s written by a woman named Mary Shelley,” Hannah explained, trying to calm her enthusiasm. She ran her fingers along the creases of the pages, remembering the day that John brought it home to her.

  “What’s it about?” Henry repeated quietly as he scoote
d over, allowing her more room.

  “It’s scary!” Hannah laughed. “You want me to read it to you?” she asked, her smile revealing her glistening teeth.

  “Yes,” Henry answered excitedly.

  It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet…

  * * *

  Hannah sat up in the bed and yawned. She heard the church bells and smiled. She’d been seeing John in her dreams each and every night. He kept her company as she held Henry, absorbing his overpowering body heat and the comfort of having someone to talk to. Suddenly her front door swung open. Master Washington, a petite man with choppy hair, stood there with angst across his reddened face.

  “Now Hannah, you and I need to have a talk.” He slammed the door abruptly behind himself. Suddenly Hannah’s mood was dampened. Her wonderful, colorful dreams of marital bliss evaporated as the angry man stood before her, prepared to lay down the law. Henry toiled in the fields while Hannah lay there wide-eyed and vulnerable. She pulled the covers up around her tightly.

  “We had an agreement. You live as you wish as long as you and Henry produce. Henry belongs to someone else. He’s only on loan. He helps me from time to time, but I don’t own him. It’s come to my understanding that you and he aren’t living up to the agreement. I’m sure, though your intelligence is more than likely limited, you understand fully what I’m saying. I expect to receive news over the next few weeks or our agreement will change and not in your favor.” Master Washington rose from the bed and left, just as quickly as he arrived, slamming the door behind him.

  Hannah shuttered. Hot tears streamed down her buttery cheeks. She clasped her fingers together, praying but unsure what to say or ask for. Suddenly she sprang out of bed and paced, falling several times to the ground in crying fits. This lasted for hours until the door opened again, revealing Henry who stood there with the sun setting behind his broad back. He awkwardly ducked as usual as he entered.

  “Sorry ’bout my shoes. I got dirt all on ’em. I know how you hate that I get dirt all over the rug then you gotta clean it up.” Henry noticed Hannah’s sullen disposition. He studied her before speaking again.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he asked as he took even greater notice of her swollen eyes. “What’s the matter?” he questioned, drawing closer to her and helping her off of the floor.

  “Master – Master Washington paid me a visit today,” Hannah sobbed.

  “What’d he say?” Henry asked slowly as he removed his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “He got on me about us. We ain’t doing what was asked,” Hannah explained. The thought of it made her stomach cramp repeatedly. “Can’t we just say we done it?” begged Hannah.

  “Naw – we can’t. If you don’t end up with child, they’d know we lied and then they liable to sell you. Trust me, Master Washington may not be peaches and cream, but he a whole lot better than most. I’d hate to see you with someone else. We gots to. It ain’t cause we don’t love other folk no more; it’s because we ain’t got a choice,” Henry said earnestly. Hannah wiped her tear-streaked face as anger crept into her soul.

  “Henry, I’d like to kill him,” she whispered.

  “Don’t go sayin’ nothin’ like that!” Henry yelled. Hannah inhaled and exhaled calmly. She walked over to the stove and started to stir a large pot of beans, this time with tiny pieces of chicken. She diced an onion and boiled a handful of carrots. Henry lay across the bed, his massive arms behind his head. The aroma of the savory food calmed his nerves.

  “I sure like that story you been readin’ me every night. I sure wish I could read, too. Who taught you?” he asked inquisitively.

  “My husband,” she answered quietly. Hannah added the crushed pepper to the beans and watched as it simmered. She then poured two small cups of water, handing one to Henry.

  “Thank you, kindly.” He gulped it down anxiously. Hannah took the cup out of his hand and quickly refilled it. She grabbed two large wooden bowls and piled on generous helpings. A small, unstable table with two chairs sat in a dimly lit corner.

  “Henry, instead of us eating on the bed tonight, let’s eat over here.” She pointed to the table. Henry rose, slowly walked over, and sat down. His large body made the furniture appear to be for a child.

  “Today I pulled a bunch of weeds and ran into a snake. Usually I know what kind they is, but this one I didn’t know. I know he was poisonous, though,” Henry stated as he chomped down his food voraciously.

  “How can you tell which are poisonous and which aren’t?” Hannah asked with intrigue.

  “You gotta look at the eyes. The eyes tell you everything – just like in people.”

  “What do a poisonous snake’s eyes say?”

  “You seen a cat eye, how it’s shaped?” explained Henry.

  “Yes.”

  “If that snake eye look just like a cat, you gotta watch out. If it’s round like a tiny pebble, it probably ain’t,” Henry slurped. “Snakes a lot like masters. They all snakes, each and e’ry one of ’em, but some of ’em worse than others. Master Washington ain’t poisonous. Don’t stop the fact that he’s crawling on his belly, but he don’t bite, and if you feel offended by his words, at least it won’t kill you later.” Hannah mulled over what Henry said.

  After dinner, Hannah cleaned up then dug into a small pile of books. She pulled out a sheet of paper from one and handed it to Henry. Henry stood in the middle of the house, looking at it with great puzzlement.

  “I know these are letters. I know they part of that alphabet, but that’s all I know.” He handed the paper back to Hannah and sat down in the chair. Hannah scooted her chair close to his, taking a small knapsack from the counter. She took out an apple, hair bow and a piece of peppermint.

  “Can I have that apple and peppermint?” Henry asked, reaching for them.

  “Wait a minute now.” Hannah furrowed her brow annoyed. “You can, but let me show you something first.” She spread the piece of paper open over her lap and pointed to the “A.”

  “This sounds like ‘Ahhh.’ The word ‘apple’ starts with ‘A’ – Apple.” Henry looked at Hannah and smiled.

  “Ahhh – Apple.”

  “That’s right. Say it again and look at the letter, here,” Hannah instructed.

  “Ahhh – Apple,” Henry repeated.

  “‘Apricot,’ ‘Apron,’ ‘Alligator’ – they all start with this letter. It’s the very first letter of the alphabet!” Hannah said proudly. She took a bite of the apple then handed it to Henry who quickly finished it off.

  “Buh! B! Buh! B! This is the second letter of the alphabet.” Hannah pointed to the piece of paper, at the letter ‘B.’

  “Buh! B!” Henry repeated, swallowing the last of the apple before repeating it twice.

  “‘Bow’ – like this hair bow – starts with the letter ‘B.’ Bite. You bit that apple and now it’s gone,” Hannah laughed. “Buh! Bite – bow – bacon – bread,” Hannah added.

  “You makin’ me hungry,” he teased.

  “Henry, you’re always hungry,” Hannah laughed.

  “Cuh! Cuh! Cee – the letter ‘C.’ Candy. Just like this peppermint candy. ‘C’ is the third letter of the alphabet. Candy – corn – cotton.”

  “Cuh – candy – cuh – corn. Cee,” Henry repeated.

  “You’re doing good, Henry. Once we get this all down pat, I’ll teach you how to write the letters. Then one day you can read ‘Frankenstein’ all by yourself,” Hannah smiled weakly.

  “Wouldn’t that be somethin’? Maybe one day I could write a poem, too.”

  “You sure could,” Hannah said reflectively. “You could write letters to your beloved – beautiful love letters that she could read over and over to make her feel whole when you aren’t around.” Hannah’s eyes glossed over.

&nbs
p; “Well, that’s probably enough for now. Tomorrow we can go over three more letters and go over these first three again. Don’t tell anyone I’m teaching you,” Hannah suddenly warned.

  “You must think I’m thick in the head,” Henry barked. “I know better than that. This is just ’tween us two.” Hannah watched as Henry removed his sweaty clothes. He stood naked, his skin like black silk woven tightly around marble. He slid under the quilt and balled up the slim pillow into an elevated roll. Hannah quickly put out the light in the room.

  “Ain’t you gonna put on any clothes?” Hannah asked, embarrassed.

  “I don’t see why I would. We have to do what was asked anyway. It ain’t like we’re havin’ fun – it’s just work, like e’rything else they want,” Henry clarified as he closed his eyes. Hannah took a deep sigh and slowly undressed. Silent tears streamed down her face. She tried to tell herself it was a dream, but she knew better. She covered her breasts, then dropped her arms and walked assuredly over to the bed. She slid under the quilt, trying to avoid direct contact. It was impossible. The bed was so small and he was so large that he immediately wrapped around her. Hannah trembled in his arms.

  “I’m sorry ’bout this,” Henry assured. “I think you’ll make a good Mama, though. I got to say, for me, it could be worse.” He moved her hair out of her face and gingerly turned her over flat onto her back.