another. Gnats and mosquitoes had come through the gaps of the log walls and swarmed around their heads and the flickering candlestick they had failed to extinguish in the corner.
She sat with an unquenchable thirst, waiting for Ruth or Abram to stir, to utter a word for her to consume, to draw in like the suckling babe’s craving for mother’s milk, the field slave’s need of water after a full day’s toil beneath the hot beams of sun under a sky she prayed would darken. She thought of Jackson’s eyes. Was it darkness she wanted?
She waited for them to tell her to endure, that everything she needed was right where she was and not in a laughter she could still hear hours later. She needed the old folk to confirm Lou’s words to stay put, but they did not wake up and the reassurance never came. Lydia folded into herself and rocked against the churning, the knowing deep down. Wouldn’t matter if they had stated every word she craved to hear because she had seen the truth so many times in their eyes, the blinking away of wretchedness, in the tears that filled but rarely fell.
CHAPTER NINE
Lydia, there’s something I need to say.”
“What is it?”
“Sit down.” John helped her settle onto a pile of straw, kneeling beside her. Moonlight streaked her cheek. She lit everything, made even Dr. Kelly’s pine-scented storehouse bright.
The space was humid, warm. John tugged on the collar of worn denim, unsure which to blame—the weather or the woman sitting in front of him.
An hour earlier, they had slipped off and wandered around carefree. She begged him to take her somewhere, anywhere to see something different. It was a risk, but he had to admit stealing away with her gave him a rush he hadn’t expected.
They walked past the slave cabin to the place he came daily to store supplies for the doctor.
The storehouse was sheathed in weatherboard under an old shingle roof. Inside, the one-room house was divided in half by a stack of pine wood shelves rising seven feet high. Tonight, it acted as a barrier from the real world, offering them something for the first time, a place of their own.
“Lydia, you ever seen a man in love?”
She stared at him.
“Ever seen a man treat a woman like she’s everything? Like a rose, making sure she don’t get trampled on?” John covered her hands with his. “Ever seen that, Lady? A man in love?”
“Dr. Kelly’s not around much, but—”
“I’m not talking about Dr. Kelly.” He edged closer. “You’re seeing it right now. You’re seeing it right now, Lydia.”
Slowly, slowly, she smiled.
“You’re my rose. But you know what? I can’t take care of it. My rose don’t got much of a chance, not if I don’t protect it. And I can’t. Not like this. Dr. Kelly’s got the freedom to do it and I’ve got to have it too.”
“What are you saying?” He could see her chest rising and falling.
“I’ve got money.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough. Enough to get out of here.”
“John?” She scrambled to her knees. “John, you think they’ll let you go?”
“That I don’t know. I’m hoping. I’m going to find out.”
“When?” She looked down, bit her lip.
“Soon.” He had no idea. “The perfect time.”
“There is no perfect time, John. You know that.”
“We’ll know when.”
“We?”
“Yes. I want you to come with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I have money for both of us. I have enough.”
“John…”
“I have enough.”
She studied him.
“More than a thousand dollars.”
“John, how—where did you get it?”
“It’s my lot.” He inched closer, her knee against his, and whispered, “Riches gathered, collected from age to age. It was my great-grandmother’s plan.”
She stared at him, shook her head.
“Yes. MaDora wanted one of her kin to walk free. She hired herself out washing clothes for pennies. Pennies, Lydia. Whatever she made, she stored in an old metal box, welded on the
She sat with an unquenchable thirst, waiting for Ruth or Abram to stir, to utter a word for her to consume, to draw in like the suckling babe’s craving for mother’s milk, the field slave’s need of water after a full day’s toil beneath the hot beams of sun under a sky she prayed would darken. She thought of Jackson’s eyes. Was it darkness she wanted?
She waited for them to tell her to endure, that everything she needed was right where she was and not in a laughter she could still hear hours later. She needed the old folk to confirm Lou’s words to stay put, but they did not wake up and the reassurance never came. Lydia folded into herself and rocked against the churning, the knowing deep down. Wouldn’t matter if they had stated every word she craved to hear because she had seen the truth so many times in their eyes, the blinking away of wretchedness, in the tears that filled but rarely fell.
CHAPTER NINE
Lydia, there’s something I need to say.”
“What is it?”
“Sit down.” John helped her settle onto a pile of straw, kneeling beside her. Moonlight streaked her cheek. She lit everything, made even Dr. Kelly’s pine-scented storehouse bright.
The space was humid, warm. John tugged on the collar of worn denim, unsure which to blame—the weather or the woman sitting in front of him.
An hour earlier, they had slipped off and wandered around carefree. She begged him to take her somewhere, anywhere to see something different. It was a risk, but he had to admit stealing away with her gave him a rush he hadn’t expected.
They walked past the slave cabin to the place he came daily to store supplies for the doctor.
The storehouse was sheathed in weatherboard under an old shingle roof. Inside, the one-room house was divided in half by a stack of pine wood shelves rising seven feet high. Tonight, it acted as a barrier from the real world, offering them something for the first time, a place of their own.
“Lydia, you ever seen a man in love?”
She stared at him.
“Ever seen a man treat a woman like she’s everything? Like a rose, making sure she don’t get trampled on?” John covered her hands with his. “Ever seen that, Lady? A man in love?”
“Dr. Kelly’s not around much, but—”
“I’m not talking about Dr. Kelly.” He edged closer. “You’re seeing it right now. You’re seeing it right now, Lydia.”
Slowly, slowly, she smiled.
“You’re my rose. But you know what? I can’t take care of it. My rose don’t got much of a chance, not if I don’t protect it. And I can’t. Not like this. Dr. Kelly’s got the freedom to do it and I’ve got to have it too.”
“What are you saying?” He could see her chest rising and falling.
“I’ve got money.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough. Enough to get out of here.”
“John?” She scrambled to her knees. “John, you think they’ll let you go?”
“That I don’t know. I’m hoping. I’m going to find out.”
“When?” She looked down, bit her lip.
“Soon.” He had no idea. “The perfect time.”
“There is no perfect time, John. You know that.”
“We’ll know when.”
“We?”
“Yes. I want you to come with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I have money for both of us. I have enough.”
“John…”
“I have enough.”
She studied him.
“More than a thousand dollars.”
“John, how—where did you get it?”
“It’s my lot.” He inched closer, her knee against his, and whispered, “Riches gathered, collected from age to age. It was my great-grandmother’s plan.”
She stared at him, shook her head.
“Yes. MaDora wanted one of her kin to walk free. She hired herself out washing clothes for pennies. Pennies, Lydia. Whatever she made, she stored in an old metal box, welded on the
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