Lizzie managed to pour all of the coffee without any mistakes, but as she moved to go back through the kitchen door, the door swung back toward her. The coffee pot hit her chest and the hot brown liquid soaked the front of her dress.

“I didn’t mean to do it!” Nate’s voice was shrill and scared.

Dessie grabbed Nate’s shoulder and pushed him into the kitchen. Lizzie rushed through the kitchen to the well outside to pour cold water over her dress.

When she returned to the dining room, she found Rabbit on Yancy’s lap. Nate stood behind the woman’s chair watching his sister. His thick eyebrows came together between his eyes. Lizzie tried to think of something to say. The room was dead silent. Surely everyone at the table knew these were Drayle’s children, especially the boy who looked just like him.

Yancy kissed and hugged May. “She’s like a little white doll!” she murmured. Rabbit fingered the woman’s bracelets and stared at her earrings.

“You didn’t tell me you had such lovely new slave children, Fran.”

“Well, they’re not that lovely.”

Drayle cleared his throat. “If you’re done with that dessert, we could have another drink in the library.”

“Sure thing,” said Mr. Butterfield, following Drayle’s lead.

The two men left their cooled coffee on the table.

Yancy reached for Nate to pull him onto her lap, but he stepped back. He didn’t appear to be as enthralled with her as his sister was.

“Boy, go to Mrs. Butterfield. She asked for you. Now go on,” Fran said.

Nate shook his head. Lizzie looked helplessly from one to the other. She wanted to entice her children back to the kitchen with the promise of more milk, but Fran was giving a different order.

Yancy reached out to touch Nate’s hair. This time, he didn’t retreat.

“Such lovely children,” Yancy said.

“I suppose,” Fran said.

Yancy waved her hand. “Now you know I would give anything to have some little colored children in my house. Now that we live in town, Mr. Butterfield only allows us to keep that old couple we’ve had for so long. I tried to convince him to buy me a girl-especially after our own children grew up-but he wouldn’t have it. Said he didn’t want a nigger child living in our house. Do these live in the house with you?” She tilted her face down, as if smelling Nate’s hair.

“No,” Fran said, watching Yancy. Then she did something that surprised Lizzie. She reached out for Rabbit and brought her close. The child leaned back between Fran’s legs. “It’s too bad you don’t have children in your house, Yancy. I’ll have to speak to Mr. Butterfield and convince him to buy you a new slave.”

“Lizzie, have these children eaten?” Fran said without looking up.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, bring them some dessert. Do you like blackberries, boy?”

Nate was unable to resist the offer. “Yes, missus.”

Lizzie didn’t move.

“That’s a great idea!” Yancy said. “Let’s take it in the parlor. Let’s take the children with us and fill them with sweets.”

Lizzie stood there for a moment after the women and children had left the room.

When she returned to the kitchen, Dessie hissed at her: “Your childrens don’t do what they told. You told them to stay out the way. Even you won’t be able to save them this time. And they gone deserve whatever they get.”

“You leave me and my children alone,” Lizzie said.

Lizzie stood outside the parlor door listening with the plates of pie in her hands. Yancy Butterfield was laughing.

Lizzie pushed open the door with her foot and found the two women sitting with a child perched in each lap. Nate was telling them about Brother Rabbit and Brother Partridge. He was telling them how both Rabbit and Partridge liked the same girl. Partridge pretended his head was cut off by tucking it in his feathers, and convinced Rabbit that he should do the same because it was a noble thing. So Brother Rabbit went around trying to find someone to cut off his head. When no one agreed to do it, Partridge obliged him. After Partridge cut off Rabbit’s head, he untucked his own and went down to the dance where he could have the girl all to himself.

Lizzie had not known Nate knew the story well enough to tell someone else. His speech came in short, excited bursts. The women laughed hard, as if they had never heard such a story.

Lizzie backed into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong now?” Dessie asked when she saw Lizzie.

That night Drayle slept beside Lizzie while Rabbit and Nate slept beside Fran in her bed.

And Lizzie didn’t sleep at all.

TWENTY

After Yancy Butterfield’s visit, things changed. Lizzie had not thought Fran’s momentary change of heart would last. She had been fully convinced Fran was only acting that way to impress her wealthier friend. But after Yancy’s visit, Fran continued to spoil the children.

Never mind that Nate’s skin was unmistakably brown and that he continued to wrestle with the decision of whether or not to trust her. Never mind that Rabbit was unnaturally pale with kinky blond hair. Fran was smitten and it showed.

Since Fran’s love was expressed in short gusts of affection, the children still spent part of the day with Big Mama. But they stayed in the quarters under the strict instructions they were not to work. Fran ignored the fact that all of the slave children on the plantation had chores. The general belief among a southern slaveholder was that slaves must be introduced to work early so they would know no other way of being.

The children were now sleeping in Fran’s bed regularly. It worried Lizzie at first, but Drayle assured her it was good for both Fran and the children. Lizzie suspected he liked it because Fran no longer expressed an interest in his nighttime activities. If she had been uninterested before, she was now almost impatient for him to clear the room so the two freshly scrubbed children could climb into her bed and bury themselves beneath the covers.

Lizzie had never been allowed to sleep with her children. They had always slept in the quarters with Big Mama while Lizzie stayed in the house with Drayle at night. So it was with bittersweet tenderness that she prepared them for Fran’s bed each evening. She bathed them in the quarters, in the big tub that sat behind a hanging quilt in the workyard. First, she heated the cast-iron kettle on the open fire. As she waited for the water to cool, she watched as they ran around naked and wrestled in the dirt. When everything was ready, she picked each of them up and set them down into the tub together. There wasn’t much time for them to soak, so she started right in wiping and scrubbing the dirt from them. She took care to wipe behind their ears and scrub the creases of their necks. Each leaned forward as she scrubbed their backs. Then they stood while she washed between their legs.

Afterwards, she delivered them to Fran’s room with a playful shove through the door that masked her real feelings. She stood outside in the hallway, her hands shaking, listening to Fran read a bedtime story.

When she returned to the room she shared with Drayle, he said she should be grateful that at least the children would learn to read. Lizzie tried to focus on this thought.

“One more time. And then I promise to leave you alone,” he said.

She had determined she was not going to allow him to force her to do that again. Since the children had been born, he only asked her to do it every so often, usually when she was bleeding. As much as she hated it, her children were receiving special treatment, and she knew Drayle could stop it if he wanted to. She was living in a bedroom in the big house, wearing finer clothes than any of the other slaves. Her children drank milk and ate the best cuts of meat. She knew she had to weigh her answer carefully.

When he saw her indecision, he said: “I’ll write you a pass to see your sister. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”