Read Online Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray by Dorothy Love - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothy Love
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forgiven?”
Of course I forgave him. How could I not? Especially since half the fault was mine.
He fell asleep, but I lay awake listening to his breathing and the mewing of the kitten next door, sobered by the realization of just how much was at stake. How much of life is by one simple moment decided.
9 | S ELINA
T hey hanged that slave Nat Turner. After he was dead they skinned him out, to be sure he wouldn’t be causing no more trouble for the white people. We got the news on a Saturday.
Mauma and me, and Ephraim and Billy, plus Lawrence got dressed up and ready to take our apples and vegetables to the Washington market. I had never been before. My daddy usually went with Mauma in the summer when they took a boat across the river with our strawberries and corn to sell. But on this particular day he was feeling poorly and Mauma said I could go.
Washington City was the busiest place. Pigs and goats and dogs running in the muddy streets. Geese honking, people yelling back and forth. Carriages and wagons and carts and people going every which way and more things for sale than I knew was in this world. Bushels of peas and bunches of green onions. Tubs of oysters and strings of fish, umbrellas and bolts of calico. Shovels. Hats. Mauma grabbed me by the hand and we walked around for a while, taking it all in. Then the menfolks got our wagon unloaded and we got down to business.
It was late in the afternoon when a man black as night and big around as a tree stopped in front of us. He looked us over with his mean pig eyes. “Whose people are you?”
Lawrence stood a little bit taller and said, “Who wants to know?”
“Me, that’s who.” The man picked himself an apple and bit into it, and he hadn’t even paid for it yet.
“We belong to Mister Custis up at Arlington,” Ephraim said. His voice was quiet as a winter’s night after snow has come down.
“Custis? I heard he lets you all come and go any way you please. You all just about free, I reckon.”
Billy started to say something, but Ephraim stopped him by shaking his head. To the stranger eating our apple, he said, “You take that apple and go on now. We got to finish up and get on home before dark.”
The man took a folded-up paper out of his pocket and gave it to Lawrence. “You might find this interesting. If you can find anybody to read it to you.”
I was itching to get my hands on that paper and read every word. I was about to tell that man that I knew how to read and so did Lawrence, but something in the way Mauma looked at me told me not to say anything.
Two women came by and bought our last basket of apples. We packed up our empty crates. Ephraim bought us a loaf of sugar and some vanilla flavoring, and we drove through the crowded streets, across the bridge, and up the road to home.
Missus came out and counted our heads to be sure we all come back, and told us to hurry up because Mister Custis was feeling poorly and wanted some supper before he went to bed. We was all in a hurry too, wanting to know what the newspaper said.
After George took supper up to the dining room, Billy ran through the quarters to round up whoever wanted to come hear. Most everybody showed up, crossed the yard, and crowded into our cabin because it was the biggest. It was still a tight squeeze. People leaned up against the walls and sat on the floor beside Daddy’s sickbed. Old Nurse made herself comfortable in my mauma’s chair. Nathaniel Parks and his baby sister, Cissy, climbed up into my sleeping loft with me.
Mauma lit a new candle and set it on the table. Lawrence sat in Daddy’s chair and unfolded the paper. He cleared his throat a few times and pulled the candle a little closer to the page.
“It says here, after eluding the law for two months, the runaway slave Nat Turner was captured on the thirtieth day of October.” Lawrence was running his finger under the words and stopping for a minute to figure them out. “He was taken to trial for the murder
Of course I forgave him. How could I not? Especially since half the fault was mine.
He fell asleep, but I lay awake listening to his breathing and the mewing of the kitten next door, sobered by the realization of just how much was at stake. How much of life is by one simple moment decided.
9 | S ELINA
T hey hanged that slave Nat Turner. After he was dead they skinned him out, to be sure he wouldn’t be causing no more trouble for the white people. We got the news on a Saturday.
Mauma and me, and Ephraim and Billy, plus Lawrence got dressed up and ready to take our apples and vegetables to the Washington market. I had never been before. My daddy usually went with Mauma in the summer when they took a boat across the river with our strawberries and corn to sell. But on this particular day he was feeling poorly and Mauma said I could go.
Washington City was the busiest place. Pigs and goats and dogs running in the muddy streets. Geese honking, people yelling back and forth. Carriages and wagons and carts and people going every which way and more things for sale than I knew was in this world. Bushels of peas and bunches of green onions. Tubs of oysters and strings of fish, umbrellas and bolts of calico. Shovels. Hats. Mauma grabbed me by the hand and we walked around for a while, taking it all in. Then the menfolks got our wagon unloaded and we got down to business.
It was late in the afternoon when a man black as night and big around as a tree stopped in front of us. He looked us over with his mean pig eyes. “Whose people are you?”
Lawrence stood a little bit taller and said, “Who wants to know?”
“Me, that’s who.” The man picked himself an apple and bit into it, and he hadn’t even paid for it yet.
“We belong to Mister Custis up at Arlington,” Ephraim said. His voice was quiet as a winter’s night after snow has come down.
“Custis? I heard he lets you all come and go any way you please. You all just about free, I reckon.”
Billy started to say something, but Ephraim stopped him by shaking his head. To the stranger eating our apple, he said, “You take that apple and go on now. We got to finish up and get on home before dark.”
The man took a folded-up paper out of his pocket and gave it to Lawrence. “You might find this interesting. If you can find anybody to read it to you.”
I was itching to get my hands on that paper and read every word. I was about to tell that man that I knew how to read and so did Lawrence, but something in the way Mauma looked at me told me not to say anything.
Two women came by and bought our last basket of apples. We packed up our empty crates. Ephraim bought us a loaf of sugar and some vanilla flavoring, and we drove through the crowded streets, across the bridge, and up the road to home.
Missus came out and counted our heads to be sure we all come back, and told us to hurry up because Mister Custis was feeling poorly and wanted some supper before he went to bed. We was all in a hurry too, wanting to know what the newspaper said.
After George took supper up to the dining room, Billy ran through the quarters to round up whoever wanted to come hear. Most everybody showed up, crossed the yard, and crowded into our cabin because it was the biggest. It was still a tight squeeze. People leaned up against the walls and sat on the floor beside Daddy’s sickbed. Old Nurse made herself comfortable in my mauma’s chair. Nathaniel Parks and his baby sister, Cissy, climbed up into my sleeping loft with me.
Mauma lit a new candle and set it on the table. Lawrence sat in Daddy’s chair and unfolded the paper. He cleared his throat a few times and pulled the candle a little closer to the page.
“It says here, after eluding the law for two months, the runaway slave Nat Turner was captured on the thirtieth day of October.” Lawrence was running his finger under the words and stopping for a minute to figure them out. “He was taken to trial for the murder
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