Read Online Northern Light by Annette O'Hare - Free Book Online Page B

this to me? Haven’t I been through enough?”
    She covered her face with her betraying hands that had loved his touch. Her embittered weeping was interrupted by a sweet sound floating over the dunes. She got back on her feet and wiped away the tears. Someone was singing.
    “ Roll, Jerdan, roll. Roll, Jerdan, roll.
    I want’ta go to heav’n when I die, to hear ol’ Jerdan roll!
    O brethren,
    Roll, Jerdan, roll. Roll, Jerdan, roll.
    I want’ta go to heav’n when I die, to hear ol’ Jerdan roll!
    Sing it ova now…!”
    Beautiful, dark-skinned Necie, the Stoltzes’ slave girl, sat on a short wooden stool, hunched over a washtub. She scrubbed her master’s clothes with the smooth side of a seashell.
    Thomas had said she’d never taken the time to talk to a Negro.
    Rubbish! I’ve waved and said hello to Necie at least a dozen times. Margaret smoothed down her skirt and apron and walked toward the young woman. Unlike the other times she’d seen Necie, she decided not to just wave hello and go on. This time, she’d take notice.
    The girl was around her own age. The cotton blouse and skirt Necie wore hadn’t known their original color for some time.
    Margaret stepped on a stick and broke it underfoot, making her presence known.
    Necie’s song came to a halt. Her gaze darted around before landing on Margaret. “Miss Margaret? What you doin’ wanderin’ round out here on the beach? You done scared me half to death! You know it ain’t safe for a purdy girl like you to be out here alone.”
    Margaret’s cheeks warmed. “Hello, Necie.”
    “You all right, Miss Margaret? Looks like you been crying.”
    “Oh, it’s nothing. Tell me, how’s Mrs. Stoltze doing these days?” Margaret covered her embarrassment with questions.
    Necie shook her head. “Oh, Miss Margaret, she ain’t doin’ so good. She got the rheumatism in her hands so bad they’s no more than crab claws anymore.” Necie mimicked how the elderly woman’s hands moved. “She don’t walk too good neither. Her backbone so twisted up…” She shook her head again and dragged the seashell over the shirt she was washing. “Come winter time, she probably ain’t goin’ to be able to get outta bed at all.”
    Margaret thought to tell Mama to check on the elderly couple soon. She sat on the sturdy driftwood log next to the girl. “Necie…Mr. and Mrs. Stoltze bought you from the slave trader after Mrs. Stoltze’s sickness made her unable to keep up with her chores, isn’t that right?”
    “Yes’m, that’s right. She’s a mighty sick woman and Massa Stoltze ain’t much better off than her. They so old.” Necie laughed. “Sometime Massa Stoltze can’t even remember where he’s at.”
    Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good at all. “Tell me, Necie, how do Mr. and Mrs. Stoltze treat you?”
    “Now what make you want to ask a question like that for, Miss Margaret?”
    “I was just wondering if they…well, you know…have they ever beat you?” Margaret fiddled with the hem of her apron.
    Necie flung her head back and laughed. “Oh, no! They treats me real good, Miss Margaret. Besides, they so old they can’t even beat eggs, much less me!”
    “Well, tell me then, what is it that’s so bad about being a slave?”
    The young girl moistened her lips and her cheerful laughter faded. “Well, I s’pose the worst thing I can ever remember is when I was sold away from my family back in Louisiana.” Necie rubbed the seashell back and forth over the shirt in her washtub. Her mind appeared to have gone far away.
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” Margaret too had been made to leave her home. She at least had her family to comfort her though.
    Necie had no one. But if that was normal for a slave, then that was the way it had to be.
    “My Moses and me was plannin’ to jump the broomstick fo I got drug off.”
    “Jump the broomstick? What do you mean?”
    “Miss Margaret, you know slaves can’t get married like white folk can. It ain’t legal. So