The Slave Master's Son

by Laveen, Tiana

  “I understand!” Mrs. White barked. “I understand what you’re driving at, Mr. Stewart. You’ve made your point.” Her voice was rose.

  “Satisfactory, my dear.” Master Stewart smiled proudly as he gathered the photos.

  “Please excuse me, I’ll return momentarily.” Mrs. White stood up and exited the small office. Master Stewart stood up and puffed on his pipe while pacing back and forth in the office. Mrs. White returned with a distinguished cocoa-skinned man with keen features. He extended his hand.

  “Hello, Mr. Stewart. My name’s Harper Cole. I understand that there’s been a misunderstanding regarding your grandson?” Mr. Cole made his way across the room and took a seat at the desk.

  “It appears so, Mr. Cole,” Master Stewart said coolly.

  “I’d like to make this situation right. I apologize for the pain and suffering that your son and his – wife may have endured due to this misunderstanding,” Mr. Cole stated.

  “Actions are more appropriate than lip service at this juncture,” Master Stewart responded.

  “Yes, of course. I will personally, with police escort, go to the new parents’ home first thing in the morning and retrieve the child. I believe it’s best that they’re not alerted of the child’s removal beforehand,” Mr. Cole explained.

  “So you’re essentially planning an ambush?” Master Stewart inquired.

  “I see no other way to prevent the child from being virtually impossible to find,” Mr. Cole answered. “Please leave us the address where you’re staying while in town, and we’ll be in touch with you as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cole. If I don’t hear anything tomorrow morning by 10:00AM, I’ll return with others. Others that you most likely don’t want to see,” Master Stewart warned.

  “I understand,” Mr. Cole said hesitantly. Master Stewart placed his hat back on his head, nodded, and left.

  * * *

  “Father, come in,” John whispered as he opened the door. “She’s finally asleep. I don’t dare disturb her.” He took his father’s hat and hung it on the wall.

  “No need. We’re to hear something by tomorrow morning. If not, I’ll resort to my contingency plan. This task required blackmail on my part, but it was much deserved,” Master Stewart said reflectively.

  “Let me lead you to our spare bedroom. We haven’t had time to finish it. There’s only a bed and dresser, but hopefully you will find it sufficient.”

  “It will be fine, John. Before I got to sleep, may I have a word with you?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Let’s sit outside, in the back so that Hannah does not overhear us,” Master Stewart whispered.

  “Very well.” John slid his jacket on and followed his father to the back patio. The two men sat down on the steps. There was a heavy silence between them. Mirror images of the old and the new, their shoulders touched. John’s hair was now falling into his face. He pushed it back gently with his hand and rubbed his jaw. Spotting a wild dandelion growing, he plucked it and twirled it around between his thumb and index finger.

  “I could really use a drink,” John finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be right back.” John got up and returned with two glasses of dark liquor.

  “I keep it hidden under the floorboard,” John laughed. “Hannah doesn’t like it when I drink. She says I act juvenile. I’m a happy drunk.” John and his father laughed.

  “You have to be able to hold your liquor if you want to hold your woman,” Master Stewart laughed.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Silence crept between them once more, building a bridge that neither was willing to cross.

  “If for some reason we don’t recover Jonathan, I want you to know that I’m deeply apologetic about this situation. I take full responsibility,” Master Stewart said as he sipped at his drink.

  “If we don’t get him back, my world is over,” John stated. “Hannah will never be the same, and I fear – I fear she’ll never want me again. I’ll be a constant reminder of his disappearance.” John dropped his head.

  “I’m hoping that won’t transpire. So many awful things have occurred, all because you two love each other and wanted to be together. I do applaud you for your bravery, John. I wouldn’t be able to withstand being ridiculed and ostracized, but you seem not the least fettered,” Master Stewart said weakly.

  “I’m affected, dear Father. I’m just not affected enough to let it get in the way of whom I wish to dedicate my life. When you love someone as much as I love Hannah, and she loves me the same as I do her, you will do anything to get it back should it ever escape. Every day feels new with her. She knows all of my oddities, my fears, my loves. She knows what makes me tick, makes me laugh, and makes me ill. Her mother raised me. I nursed from Mary, too. What many would’ve seen as a brother-sister friendship of sorts between a slave master’s son and a slave’s daughter was an early love affair. I taught her to read for many reasons, some selfish. I knew someday, I’d want her to be able to read my love letters.” John’s voice trailed off.

  “I always felt like I kept you a bit sheltered,” Master Stewart said. “I felt as though if I would’ve had you around more children, this wouldn’t have happened. There were so many young ladies who wanted to be courted by you. I thought you’d change, but you never did.” Master Stewart shook his head slowly.

  “You don’t snap out of being in love. It was meant to be. She and I were meant to be.” John polished off his drink. “Father, back when Hannah and I were children, were you in love with Mary?” John asked as he turned to his father, staring at him eye-to-eye, man-to-man. Master Stewart looked carefully at John. His eyes glossed over, slick and shining bright. Crickets chirped, waiting anxiously for the answer.

  “John,” his voice trembled, “I still am.” He slowly stood up and walked inside the house, leaving his son alone on the porch with his haunting thoughts. John plucked another dandelion from the ground and twirled it between his fingers. He slowly blew the white fuzz away, closing his eyes and feeling the night breeze run its fingers affectionately through his shoulder-length mane.

  * * *

  “Someone’s at the door,” mumbled Hannah as she rubbed her eyes. She stretched and yawned, wrapping her robe securely around her bony body. John came up behind her, hugged her, and kissed her neck as he looked out the window.

  “Let me see who it may be,” John offered. As he made his way to the door, Master Stewart sat at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee. He looked at a newspaper pensively and bit into a piece of dry toast. John tucked his shirt into his pants and opened the front door, slightly apprehensive.

  “Uh, hello, I’m here to speak to Mr. Stewart.”

  “I’m he,” John remarked as he looked the man over. Master Stewart slowly got up from the table and stood close behind his son.

  “Hello, Mr. Cole,” Master Stewart said grimly. “John, Mr. Cole’s from the colored children’s orphanage.” Mr. Cole nodded.

  “This is my son, John,” Master Stewart introduced.

  Mr. Cole smiled and said, “Ahhh, I see.” Master Stewart noticed the baby wasn’t with him. He clasped his hands together and shook his head in disapproval.

  “Well, I said I’d follow up with you this morning,” Mr. Cole smiled.

  “Yes, you did. It’s 9:54AM, Mr. Cole,” Master Stewart said coldly. Just then a police officer approached the house. He rushed towards the open door with a bundle wrapped tightly in his arms. John pushed past Mr. Cole and grabbed the baby. He unwrapped Jonathan and looked at his son’s face. Jonathan was asleep until John shrieked, “Hannah!” John fled into the living room, standing about holding the child, spinning in excitement.

  “Oh, my God, look how much you’ve grown!” John cried. Hannah descended the steps and walked slowly into the living room, rubbing the sleep from her swollen eyes. She glanced at John. Her eyes quickly shifted to the diminutive bundle cradled in his strong arms. She dashed hurriedly towards him, almost tripping on he
r way. Hannah swiftly grabbed the child out of John’s arms and hugged him close to her face and chest, simultaneously dropping to the ground sobbing. Her tears poured out like a torrential downpour as her heart beat loudly, playing the drums for the entire world to hear.

  “Thank you, Jesus!” she screamed. “Thank you, Jesus! My baby is home!” Hannah’s body shook as she embraced the child close to her bosom. The baby began to cry. Hannah kissed all over him, soothing him as she touched his face with her palm. She turned her back, pulling the side of her nightgown down to expose her nipple. John walked up behind her and held her as she attempted to breastfeed after so much passed time.

  “He ain’t takin’ it,” Hannah panicked. “My milk might be gone.”

  “He’ll take it, just keep trying,” John encouraged as he pushed his face into her hair, his tears falling into her thick, curly strands. Master Stewart closed the front door slowly after witnessing the reunion. Mr. Cole and the officer left. He sat back at the table, with his back towards his family, smiling proudly.

  “There he goes,” John whispered sweetly. Jonathan finally took Hannah’s nipple and began to suckle. Hannah smiled and laughed as she rubbed her fingers through his hair. “He looks just the same, only a bit bigger. I missed you, little Sweetheart. Mama missed you, Baby!” she cried.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 20

  “There’s plenty of apple cider,” Hannah teased. “I can’t wait to see Mama. I doubt she’ll be doing any candle making with me, but I’ll at least show her how,” she smiled.

  “I really think I ought to get more cider,” John said as he looked at their kitchen inventory.

  “John, I’ve never seen you this nervous. You act as if you’ve never seen these people before. This Thanksgiving is going to be wonderful. You just wait and see. I know you haven’t seen your family in a few months, but I’m sure they’re the same!” Hannah laughed and assured as she continued to iron his pants. Jonathan crawled around cooing and rolling his ball around the floor.

  “I can’t believe you bought him a ball and cup. I play with it more than he does,” Hannah laughed. “Save something for Christmas,” she urged. John laughed.

  “I knew he couldn’t use it yet, but I couldn’t resist. You should see what my father has for him. He told me all about it. Wait until Christmas. I think this house is going to be filled to the ceiling,” he stated. John looked affectionately at his wife.

  “You want another baby, don’t you?” he said as he watched her adoring their son. Hannah smiled shyly.

  “I want a little girl, too. Then I’d have everything I ever wanted,” she grinned.

  “Well, first I believe we need to find out about this cough of yours and why your weight keeps dropping,” John said.

  “I feel fine,” Hannah responded. “It’s probably just a little chest cold. I’ve had those before.”

  “Yes, but you rarely get sick, and this isn’t going away. You’ve been eating normally, yet you’re still skin-and-bones. Promise me you will see the doctor next week,” he said as he counted the eggs.

  “Oh, alright,” Hannah agreed hesitantly.

  “Better yet, before our guests get here tomorrow, I’m taking you to Dr. Armstrong,” John insisted.

  “That odd, colored doctor?” Hannah exclaimed. “I saw him out and about, and he always gives me dirty looks. I don’t want to go to him,” she pouted.

  “You’re going. He’s the only first-rate Negro within a twenty-five mile radius. I’ll go with you. You keep getting headaches, and you have cold sweats. Whatever is going on, it’s getting worse instead of better,” John insisted as he poured himself a glass of milk. “Go on and get dressed.” Hannah finished ironing John’s pants; changed Jonathan’s nappy; and bathed, dressed, and combed her hair for her doctor’s appointment.

  “John, I’m ready,” she said in an irritated tone. John looked up from his newspaper, grabbed Hannah’s coat off the hook, and put it on her. She picked their son up from the ground while John placed his coat on, and they left to the square.

  * * *

  “Thank you for seeing her on such short notice, Dr. Armstrong,” John exclaimed.

  “Indeed. It was wise to bring Hannah here as soon as possible. The earlier the treatment, the better. I have her stool sample. The rest of this is just general,” Dr. Armstrong smiled. Dr. Armstrong was tall and well built. One of his eyes was hazel, and the other dark brown. His hair was dark and coarse and cut close with a long part. John held Jonathan as Hannah opened her blouse so that Dr. Armstrong could listen to her lungs. Jonathan squirmed about, cooing and playfully yelling.

  “There are some toys just outside the door, Mr. Stewart. Maybe your little one would like to see some.” Dr. Armstrong smiled. John nodded and went outside of the office to find amusement for the infant. Hannah swallowed deeply. She clung to the sides of the examination table tightly as Dr. Armstrong repeatedly brushed his hand against her shoulder.

  “Why would you do something like that?” he asked in almost a whisper.

  “Pardon me?” Hannah responded in confusion.

  “That man. Why would you willingly be with him? Do you not have any pride?” he asked calmly as he continued the examination.

  “I don’t believe that this is a proper discussion for us to engage in!” Hannah responded.

  “I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’ll drop the topic,” Dr. Armstrong stated as he continued his examination.

  “Thank you!” Hannah said as she crossed her ankles. Dr. Armstrong examined Hannah’s tongue and felt her head. He looked deeply into her eyes, a bit too long and too intensely. After gingerly patting her hand, he stood back and sighed.

  “You have typhoid fever. It’s truly amazing that you’re not feeling much worse,” he said shaking his head.

  “Typhoid fever?” Hannah questioned.

  “Yes. You probably obtained it from some tainted water. There are plenty of cases of this going around. Have you had a fever or loose bowels?” Dr. Armstrong asked as he crossed his arms.

  “Occasionally,” Hannah answered, a blush coming across her face. John re-entered the examination room with a fist full of toys and his son dangling playfully in front of him. John smiled up at the doctor as he took a seat and placed Jonathan down on the ground.

  “Mr. Stewart, I just informed Hannah that I believe she has typhoid fever,” the doctor explained.

  “I’ve heard of it and know of several people that had it, Dr. Armstrong. Hannah didn’t seem to exhibit all of the symptoms I’ve heard of and seen, so I suspected it was something else,” John said, worry covering his face.

  “I believe that at the onset, Hannah’s immune system was very healthy, and that helped her stay healthier longer, but now it’s returned. It’s imperative that she drink plenty of fluids and eat at least six liquid meals a day. Solids have to be avoided as much as possible. This can be serious, Hannah. Many people die from this. So though the prognosis may be frightening, we can try to do something about it,” Dr. Armstrong explained. Hannah closed her eyes and hung her head. John stood up and rubbed his wife’s back soothingly.

  “I do have some unconventional methods to help combat this disease,” Dr. Armstrong said quietly. He closed his office door before he continued. “I’ve treated many patients, some of which were in more dire need than Hannah. We can begin those treatments, if you’d like,” Dr. Armstrong offered.

  “What type of treatments?” Hannah asked weakly, concern coating each syllable.

  “I want you to boil all water that you drink first. The same with ice – boil that water, then proceed to freeze it. Wash all fruit and vegetables completely before consumption. Hannah, I believe this isn’t your first bout with this fever. I believe you’ve been afflicted before. Your body fought it off, then it recurred,” Dr. Armstrong explained.

  “Oh, no,” Hannah said. “Master Stewart told me I didn’t look well when I went to Richmond. I just thought it was because of everything we were going
through.” She rubbed her forehead in disbelief.

  “The blessing here, Hannah, is this time it was caught earlier, but your body isn’t strong enough to keep fighting it. You will need plenty of rest. I’d like to start treatment with you as soon as possible. I’ll need you to come to the office daily for the next two weeks. I’m going to give you licorice powder and massage your intestines. Mr. Stewart, if at any given time you see a rash develop on her or change in skin color, bring her to me immediately,” Dr. Armstrong said with a smile. Hannah felt nauseous. She buttoned her blouse, picked Jonathan off the ground, and walked out of the examination room abruptly. John watched her, mystified.

  “Thank you, Dr. Armstrong. I’ll make sure Hannah follows your advice.” Dr. Armstrong nodded and handed John a small vile of milk and honey with unidentified ingredients.

  “Give this to her every morning – just a tiny drop in her tea or coffee,” he instructed.

  “Thank you, Dr. Armstrong,” John said again as he left the building.

  “Hannah! What in tarnation is wrong with you?” John yelled as he yanked her arm. “He’s trying to help you, and you’re treating him as if he’s the enemy!” he exclaimed.

  “The good doctor is unscrupulous,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes and readjusting Jonathan on her hip.

  “You had your mind set against him before we arrived. I don’t believe any accusation you hurl his way,” John stated as he helped her into the wagon.