* * *
“Aren’t you going to stay for dinner?” Mary asked as she watched John descend down the steps with his luggage.
“I’ve already inconvenienced you enough as it is,” John remarked as he came closer. Sarah hurriedly ran to him. She placed her soft, delicate hand over his.
“I insist you stay. You can leave in the morning. Please?” she asked. John sighed and deliberated. He looked at Mary then back at Sarah.
“Well, how can I resist two beautiful women?” They all laughed as he returned up to the guest room, casting his bag onto the ground. He returned downstairs to discover a fresh pan of cornbread being set on the table. A tall pitcher of water and a platter of sliced ham soon kept the cornbread company, along with a beef strew and a large wooden bowl of chopped fruits.
“This feels like home,” John said happily as he inhaled.
“You didn’t drink any of Jonah’s alcohol, did you?” Sarah asked with a sly grin as she studied John’s slightly distorted face.
“Yes, I did, and I’m now paying the price,” John admitted. Sarah laughed.
“He makes it himself. It could bring a dead rat back to life ten times over,” Mary joked.
“Graham should be home at any moment,” Sarah stated as she took her seat. “John, come.” She pointed to the chair across from her. John sat down again across from Sarah and by Mary.
“While we wait for Graham, tell us how your visit with Jonah went,” Sarah said as she poured John, Mary and herself a glass of water.
“It went very well, though I must say it’s quite evident that Jonah has no desire to see Master Stewart under any conditions. I can’t say that I blame him. We discussed the war, his mother and other odds and ends. He was very cordial and forthright,” John stated.
“Jonah is a very easy going person. That’s actually what concerns me about him sometimes,” Sarah explained as she sipped her water. Just then the front door opened. Graham removed his coat and hat, hanging them gently on a hook close by. He closed the door behind him and walked into the dining room.
“Good evening everyone. Please allow me a couple of minutes to wash my hands and face, and I won’t keep you waiting beyond that point,” Graham smiled pleasantly as he excused himself as quickly as he arrived. Mary stood up and began to slice the cornbread into small squares. As she finished, Graham entered the dining room, clasped his hands together and said, “Let’s eat!” He sat down as everyone quietly began to pass bowls, platters and side dishes across and around the table. Soon the only sound was that of forks and knives, and the occasional noisy chew. Mary burst out into laughter.
“It always tickles me so how quiet people get when they’re eating good food,” she giggled. Sarah smiled then started laughing with her.
“It’s funny. You know the food is good when no one can be bothered to speak,” she chimed. John nodded and smiled.
“I’m not a glutton, but I’ve always loved a good home cooked meal. You realize just how wonderful it is when it’s taken away from you, like being in the war. Every since then, I relish good cooking and don’t take it for granted,” he said as he shoved a spoonful of beef stew into his mouth.
“My mother wasn’t a good cook, but she was an excellent baker. We didn’t dare tell her she wasn’t a good cook, however,” Graham said with a hearty laugh.
“Is Hannah a good cook?” Sarah asked as she took a big bite of her cornbread, the pat of butter sliding to the side in her hand.
“Excellent!” John said with a wide grin. “She’s a wonderful cook and a brilliant seamstress. She actually has a waiting list for women waiting for gowns. For the longest time she did work for a local factory, but now with the second baby and our father, she’s taken some time away from that to focus on these more pressing matters,” John explained.
“She still sews? I knew she was good. She made such elaborate dresses for my dolls. My mother actually thought I had stolen the outfits,” Sarah smiled weakly. “I’d love to see her again someday. Maybe next time you visit, you could bring her?” Sarah asked as she took a tiny sip of her chilled water.
“I’m sure she’d like that,” John nodded. As dinner wound down, John stretched and yawned. He was emotionally exhausted. The nice warm bed was inviting. Mary, Laura, and Sarah cleared the table as John bid his ‘good-nights’ and slowly ascended the staircase. Once inside the room, he sighed with relief and removed each stitch of clothing. He took out a pair of pajama pants Hannah had made him, slid them on then submerged his long, lean body under the crisp sheets. Not to his surprise, he was asleep soon after. The muffled sounds of laughter, water running, and the occasional coach driving by played and echoed in the background. Suddenly, around three in the morning, John was bolted awake.
He heard a loud bang, stammering and a deep, male voice. He couldn’t make out the words. He heard Graham then Sarah. John’s eyes grew wide. In the darkness, he felt around until his fingertips ran urgently across the cool steel of his awaiting gun. Feeling his way around, John stood up, holding the gun to his bare chest as he slid closer to his closed and locked guest room door. Careful to not block any outside light with his feet, he kept away from the threshold. He heard another bang, this time, forcing his eyes fully open and the sense of urgency was imminent. Breathing deeply and quickly, he shifted himself so that his face was beside the door.
“Bring him out here!” screamed the loud, belligerent voice. “I got somethin’ to tell him!”
“It’s three in the morning! You’re drunk! Go home!” yelled Sarah while Graham apparently struggled with the man.
“I don’t give a damn what time it is! Anytime’s the right time for what I have to say! This is important! I say go get him or I’ll drag him out myself!” the deep, slurred voice demanded.
“Get out of my house, now!” screamed Sarah. John quickly opened his bedroom door and ambushed the staircase with his gun facing forward. Sarah screamed again as she saw him approaching in lightening speed until he was in the midst of them all. He was now face-to-face with Jonah. Graham was cast aside as John grabbed Jonah by the throat and pinned him to the wall before he could blink. The stale odor of curried alcohol oozed from all of his pores. The whites of his eyes were now blood shot and his hair was damp with perspiration.
“You wish to speak to me?” asked John calmly, as he kept the gun close to his side.
“What in the blazes are you doing?” asked Graham as he got to his feet. “Put that gun away!” John ignored him and continued to stare deeply into Jonah’s eyes.
“I’m no Nancy boy! You can’t come into town and try to save your daddy and think I’ll just skip behind you!” yelled Jonah. John blinked from the odor pouring out of Jonah’s mouth. His eyes watered. He readjusted his stance.
“Jonah, I never thought of you that way. You’ve been drinking, and now everything that you’ve wanted to say to Master Stewart has swum to the surface. I’m going to sit down, and I want you to sit down across from me and tell me what’s on your mind,” John said calmly.
“You can go sit down, you fool, but I’m standin’ right here!” Jonah spit. John nodded and sat down in a chair close by, placing the gun to his side.
“I got you figured out now, John! You had me fooled at first, but I know what this is about! You come up here, disruptin’ everyone and tryin’ to drag us back over with you to see that rotten Master Stewart. Why in the world would we want to see him? Or maybe you just wanted to rub in our face that you’re OK, alright, and see how the rest of us are holdin’ up. Well you done seen an eye full! I ain’t holdin’ up too well, John, so you can run and tell Master Stewart that!” Jonah took uneven, sloppy steps closer to John, placing his finger in his face. “You and that white devil are just alike. You come in here trying to win us over and you almost succeeded!” Jonah yelled.
“Jonah, you’re drunk! Go home!” Sarah pleaded once more.
“I might be drunk, but I can see the truth!” Jonah answered. “And you need to tell this boy to
go home! This ain’t none of his house, and we ain’t none of his family! Family is the people that care about you. This scallywag don’t care about us!”
“I do,” John responded solemnly. “I want…”
“I don’t care what you want!” Jonah yelled. “I’m a lot of things, John. I’m a drinker. I’m an occasional gambler. I curse. I don’t go to church regularly. I even have a history of being a whoremonger. One thing I’m not, though, is stupid. Before any of that other stuff though, John, I was a little boy. I was a little boy in Richmond, Virginia, barefoot in the grass and being raised by a woman who was sweet as honey but dense as steel. My whole life I had to hear about how good Master Stewart was! Master Stewart this, Master Stewart that, while I lay asleep trying to ignore the giant rats crawling over my little eight-year-old body. I thought maybe if I lay still and pretended I was dead, they wouldn’t bite me no more. Well I was wrong, and I ended up getting sick. Master Stewart sent a doctor, and the doctor told him I needed all this treatment. Master Stewart said all of that wasn’t necessary and some rest should be OK. He let me fight an infection on my own that would’ve killed most children, all because if I got the medical care I really needed, word would’ve gotten out about his little mulatto child he’d hidden in the woods. That’s who yo’ daddy is, John. He ain’t none of my, daddy. He ain’t never been my daddy!
“I ain’t goin’ no where wit’ you! If he’d been good to me, bad leg and all, I’d walk to New York to be wit’ that man!” Jonah’s eyes watered. “If he’d of just gave a little care to me, I’d do whatever he needed, but he don’t care one inklin’ about me. Now he done got religion!” Jonah laughed. “Now he want to repent. He can tell it all to the devil! He ain’t even as good as dog shit! I hope he burns in Hell! I hope God curses him just like I do! Then, and only then will justice be served!” Jonah screamed at the top of his lungs. Sarah ran to Jonah’s side and held him. She sobbed on her brother’s shoulder and looked up at John.
“I can’t,” she cried. “John, we can’t go with you. It’s just too hard.” She held Jonah in her bosom as the two cradled each other on the ground. Her long hair hung in disheveled strands, enveloping their two beings protectively. Graham patted John’s shoulder as he walked away, leaving John standing there, looking down at the pulsating carnage that Master Stewart left behind.
* * *
CHAPTER 26
“You did all you could do,” Hannah said as she finished listening to John’s recollection of the previous day’s events. “I don’t mean to bring anymore harm to your spirit, but you can’t right blame them,” she added, as she held him close while they sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know.” John responded, looking down into his hands. “I missed you,” he said, smiling weakly.
“I missed you too! Just so you know, your father has been mighty quiet and sleeping a lot. He seems fairly pain free, though. The children were good, and I even got a set of curtains finished,” Hannah smiled reassuringly. John patted her knee.
“Good, that’s good.” He stood up and undressed. Hannah watched as he paced back-and-forth before putting on another pair of pajama pants she had made him. He glided under the sheets of their inviting, familiar, and comfortable bed and drifted off into fragmented nightmares and blackness.
Hannah observed him while she laid in bed next to him. Watching his eyeballs dance around under the thin lids, she wondered what his dreams looked like. She delicately placed her hand over his shoulder and hummed in his ear. Just then, she witnessed his breathing slow and calm. The grimace on his face turned into a faint smile as she continued to rub his shoulder and sing ever so softly, barely audible, into his ear. John’s nightmares were replaced with blue and cotton filled clouds wrapped in the softness of the glow of diamonds. For at least the next seven hours, he could float away and pretend he did not see the pain in his brother’s and sisters’ eyes. He could forget the rage that infected his blood stream and made him feel like fighting his own father to the bloody death after hearing story after story of neglect and atrocity. He truly was sent into the lion’s den, but now, at least for right now, he came out alive but forever changed.
* * *
Master Stewart leaned weakly against the back porch. The cool air rubbed over his thin, sagging flesh, poking and prodding it teasingly.
“I needed some fresh air,” he explained as John found him in the dusk light. “You’re home from work early,” he added, coughing into his handkerchief.
“Father, you really shouldn’t be out here,” John warned.
“I know, but it doesn’t matter really anymore. I don’t have much longer, even the doctor said so,” Master Stewart resolved.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer your last days not be filled with the likes of pneumonia.” He hesitantly took his father’s arm and escorted him into the kitchen. Master Stewart sat down slowly in a chair, looking off aimlessly. John poured each of them a glass of water.
“I asked for Hannah to have a meal out. I gave her some money just so I could be alone and free to walk about,” Master Stewart explained.
“Yes, she told me. That’s why I came home early. I don’t want you here alone, Father. It’s not safe.”
“Son, I don’t have much longer. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’d like for this last bit of time to be on my own terms. Please contact Mary and alert her that she should begin arrangements to come up as soon as possible,” Master Stewart requested.
“I will. I will, Father.” John handed his father the glass of water.
“Thank you for speaking to Mary, Sarah, and Jonah. I know that must have been quite difficult. I’m not surprised at your news that they won’t be coming to visit nor attending my funeral. I just wished they could forgive me.” Master Stewart sipped his water clumsily.
“Father, at this point I’m not certain it’s a matter of forgiveness for the sake of forgiveness. It appears to me that all of them just wanted you to acknowledge your misdeeds. I believe we’re able to move on once we hear that the person who’s offended us is genuinely remorseful. I believe from what they discussed with me, they never received this from you. Thus, the nothing ever changed,” John explained.
“But it was a long time ago, John. I’m not the same person,” Master Stewart said reflectively.
“Yes, it was a long time ago, but an offense is an offense, regardless of how many years have sailed past. There’s something I’ve learned in my short stint of being a parent, Father. Time frames and duration are very fuzzy for children. When you tell them that they can eat or play in a minute, that minute’s an eternity because they desire it so badly. When you tell them that they will be punished upon your arrival, that time to them comes entirely too soon. I believe, we as adult children are no different. When we want something from our parents, we want it right then because we understand that there are certain voids that only a mother or father can fill and whatever we’re asking for, we believe it to be of great urgency. We ask in that moment, it’s a need of immediate attention. If we always long for, whatever it is, it does not matter as much if one hour or one year has passed; it all feels the same once we come to terms with the failure of the parent to respond. These are truly affairs of the heart, Father.” John placed his strong hand over his father’s weak, shaking one.
“It also does not seem to change the scales of fairness if we’ve improved or changed later in life. The damage has been completed. Forgiveness is granted to those where the victims are willing to let go. Sometimes forgiveness never arrives because it’s the only thing left to barter with. Finally, the victim has something the oppressor wants and has the upper hand. The hatred, tying them to their captive oppressor, replaces the fleeting chance of forgiveness. The hatred makes them feel alive and as if they’re in control and have a handle on the situation. They don’t realize they aren’t in control at all because hatred is a response to fear and sorrow. Being afraid isn’t being in control of oneself at all. It’s quite the cont
rary, but to the person afflicted, there’s no use in trying to convince otherwise. If one was willing to forgive in all matters, it means they would have to let go – to go on with their lives and not place any more blame. That’s difficult to do, especially when you strong heartedly believe the person in the midst of that hatred, the person that caused the bad sentiments, hasn’t given a reason to be forgiven or reached out in a way demonstrative of a – parent, wanting to make things right. When they brandish their face or drop their name, it’s in order to appease themselves, not for the sake and wellness of the child.”
Master Stewart lowered his head as tears ran down his wrinkled face. He cried silently, gripping his son’s hand tightly.
* * *
“And lastly, we have the yams!” exclaimed Hannah as she placed them on the dining room table. She wiped the tears out of her eyes and smiled. John stood behind her while Mary stood up and said grace.
“Precious Lord, we thank you for this bounty before us. We thank you for the time you’ve given us even when we spent it foolishly. Lord, you always found a way out of no way. I want to thank you for my daughter, Hannah. Thank you for keepin’ her safe, just like you promised. I remember after I had her Lord, I begged you to let me have just this one, to make this one baby be different. I remember feelin’ like you said it’d be better, and you kept your promise dear Lord. Thank you for John who’s taken care of my daughter and given her a home to call her own. I never thought I’d live to see this day, dear Lord, where I’d be free – my daughter and her children too. Lord, it seems that you’ve staked your claim on Master Stewart, and I’m not one to argue with you, Lord. I just ask that you make his journey painless please. He’s one of your children, and Lord, please help him along the way in these final days. This I ask in your name, Lord. Amen.” Everyone said “amen” and sat down at the table. Jonathan quickly dug into a small bowl set before him, which was filled with corn while Hannah fed milk to Phoebe. John paced before finally settling in his seat.
The Slave Master's Son Page 27
