for the thousandth time, why had she told him in a weak moment, all those years ago, that she had Negro blood, that her maternal grandmother had been a Negro? He had never suspected because she passed for white, with help from the skin-bleaching potion her mother had taught her to make, the same potion she insisted Erin use, so there’d never be a hint she was a mulatto. But back then she’d foolishly felt the need to be completely honest with Zachary, as she’d been with her beloved Jacob, who’d loved her so much he wouldn’t have cared if she’d been green! Naively, she had believed Zachary when he professed to love her, thinking they would have a good marriage also. So she had told him the secret, and he’d said it didn’t matter. It was only later, when the fires of his loins had cooled, that she painfully realized just how terribly much it did matter.
There were times, when he was drunk, when she felt he truly hated her. He accused her of enticing him, holding out for marriage, making him so crazy wanting her he’d given in. He would beat her then, forcing her to perform the most depraved acts he could think of to humiliate her. Afterward, when he was sober, he would cry and apologize, beg her forgiveness, and swear he loved her. But that was years ago. Now he had no more remorse, no matter how brutal he became.
Too late, Arlene had realized her mistake. Devoting herself to Erin, determined she should not suffer, she resolved to protect her at all costs, even if it meant being totally subservient to Zachary. He knew that gave him the upper hand, that she would tolerate any abuse he handed out. When she lost the baby she was carrying, he said he was glad, because he didn’t want to have a baby by a mulatto. What he didn’t know, what she’d never tell, was that she’d subjected herself to an abortion by a Negro midwife Rosa knew about, who was also adept at ridding slave girls of unwanted babies conceived by their masters.
So life had gone on, becoming more and more miserable with each passing year. Arlene lived in fear that Zachary would one day, in a drunken rage, reveal all to Erin. He’d sworn never to do that, but she no longer trusted him to keep his word about anything. And she never intended for Erin to know the truth, lest she repeat the mistake and confide the secret to the man she married…and subsequently live to regret it.
Arlene knew the only reason Zachary didn’t tell Erin was that he enjoyed holding the threat over her head more. Once, she’d asked him why he didn’t divorce her, since he obviously didn’t love her, but in fact loathed and despised her. In response, he had sneered, then taunted, “Because I own you, Arlene, just like the rest of the darkies on this place, and I’ll keep you as long as it pleases me to do so. When it doesn’t, I’ll sell you, just like I sell them. Remember that, and don’t give me any trouble!”
She wasn’t really worried. After all, no one else suspected there was a drop of anything but Caucasian blood flowing in her veins. So, through the years, she had learned her place, and when he wasn’t drinking, he just ignored her.
When Erin had begged, almost hysterically, to go to Atlanta to live with her aunt, Arlene had given in reluctantly. Filling her lonely hours with charity and church work had been rewarding, and she’d made many friends, even though she accepted the painful reality that friendship could go only so far, due to community disregard for her husband.
And now she was running out of time. She was dying, and soon all the misery would end, but please, God, she prayed, huddled there on the floor, let me live long enough to see my daughter taken care of, so she won’t suffer as I’ve had to suffer all these years.
A sudden knock on the door brought her scrambling to her feet. Dabbing furiously at her eyes with the back of her hands, she anxiously called out, “Yes,who is it?”
“Me,” Erin responded. “I wanted to let
There were times, when he was drunk, when she felt he truly hated her. He accused her of enticing him, holding out for marriage, making him so crazy wanting her he’d given in. He would beat her then, forcing her to perform the most depraved acts he could think of to humiliate her. Afterward, when he was sober, he would cry and apologize, beg her forgiveness, and swear he loved her. But that was years ago. Now he had no more remorse, no matter how brutal he became.
Too late, Arlene had realized her mistake. Devoting herself to Erin, determined she should not suffer, she resolved to protect her at all costs, even if it meant being totally subservient to Zachary. He knew that gave him the upper hand, that she would tolerate any abuse he handed out. When she lost the baby she was carrying, he said he was glad, because he didn’t want to have a baby by a mulatto. What he didn’t know, what she’d never tell, was that she’d subjected herself to an abortion by a Negro midwife Rosa knew about, who was also adept at ridding slave girls of unwanted babies conceived by their masters.
So life had gone on, becoming more and more miserable with each passing year. Arlene lived in fear that Zachary would one day, in a drunken rage, reveal all to Erin. He’d sworn never to do that, but she no longer trusted him to keep his word about anything. And she never intended for Erin to know the truth, lest she repeat the mistake and confide the secret to the man she married…and subsequently live to regret it.
Arlene knew the only reason Zachary didn’t tell Erin was that he enjoyed holding the threat over her head more. Once, she’d asked him why he didn’t divorce her, since he obviously didn’t love her, but in fact loathed and despised her. In response, he had sneered, then taunted, “Because I own you, Arlene, just like the rest of the darkies on this place, and I’ll keep you as long as it pleases me to do so. When it doesn’t, I’ll sell you, just like I sell them. Remember that, and don’t give me any trouble!”
She wasn’t really worried. After all, no one else suspected there was a drop of anything but Caucasian blood flowing in her veins. So, through the years, she had learned her place, and when he wasn’t drinking, he just ignored her.
When Erin had begged, almost hysterically, to go to Atlanta to live with her aunt, Arlene had given in reluctantly. Filling her lonely hours with charity and church work had been rewarding, and she’d made many friends, even though she accepted the painful reality that friendship could go only so far, due to community disregard for her husband.
And now she was running out of time. She was dying, and soon all the misery would end, but please, God, she prayed, huddled there on the floor, let me live long enough to see my daughter taken care of, so she won’t suffer as I’ve had to suffer all these years.
A sudden knock on the door brought her scrambling to her feet. Dabbing furiously at her eyes with the back of her hands, she anxiously called out, “Yes,who is it?”
“Me,” Erin responded. “I wanted to let
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