TWENTY-TWO

His clothes were genteel but worn. He wore a set of blue knickers that were white at the knees. The ruffles on his shirt were no longer crisp, crumpled from napping in the back of the carriage. His reddish hair was straight with curly ends, as if it were just beginning to lose the last of its baby curls. He took the candy from Fran, but kept his eyes on Nate who stared at him unabashedly.

Fran opened her mouth to speak, but her voice sounded choked. “You’re taller than I expected. You’re welcome here, of course.” She looked at the driver.

“He’s six, ma’am. He explained to me during the trip that he just had a birthday.” he paused. “I hope you won’t mind if I go on my way. I have a schedule to keep, and I’m afraid I’m already behind. I have accommodations in the next town over, and I’d like to arrive before my host retires for the night. Tomorrow morning, I’m headed north-”

“Would you like to see your room, Billy?” Fran interrupted.

The child nodded in response.

“Lizzie, prepare the room across from mine. Dessie, have Philip take that trunk upstairs.” Fran walked to the door with the driver. “I do hope you’ll give my sister regards for me. Are you a friend of hers?”

“No, ma’am. I’m just a driver. She hired me to bring him. She regrets that she is not able to come herself.”

“Yes, that’s too bad.” Fran looked back at the child.

As Lizzie took the child’s hand and ascended the stairs, Nate followed.

When she got to the top of the stairs, Nate stood there looking curiously at Billy. It struck Lizzie that her son was dressed better than the white boy. Nate offered the wooden train car in his hand. The boy walked forward and accepted it.

“What’s your name?” Nate asked softly.

“Billy.”

“Do you like trains?”

Billy nodded. “I rode on one before. Have you?”

“No,” Nate said, his eyes wide for a moment. “But I’ve got a whole train set. You want to see it?”

Billy shrugged as if he had seen a million train sets.

“Come on.” Nate took his hand and guided him to Fran’s bedroom, Rabbit following at a close distance behind them.

Lizzie heard Drayle stamping his boots as he entered the front door.

“We have visitors?” he asked.

“Yessir,” Dessie answered.

“I’m not properly dressed to receive anyone. Tell them I’ll wash up and be there in a few moments.”

“It’s just the child, sir,” Dessie said.

And that was all Lizzie heard. She helped to carry the train set into the bedroom where Billy would be staying. She took her two dresses out of the closet, folded them, and made a stack on the floor outside the door. She guessed she would be sent back to the storeroom, but she wasn’t sure. She turned back the bedcovers. The sheets had just been changed that day. It was late for a child. He would want to go to bed soon.

“You’re probably tired from your trip,” she said to Billy.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The child had manners, she thought. And he hadn’t been around slaves much. Philip entered the room with the trunk.

“Heavy?” she asked.

“Not so much,” Philip answered.

Both of them knew what this question meant. Slaves always had an interest in knowing how long a guest would be staying. Each extra body meant more work.

“Where you want me to put it?” he asked.

“Just put it over yonder.” After he had set the trunk down, Lizzie opened it and unpacked the boy’s clothing, counting each piece as she went. As Philip left, she saw him look briefly down at her pile of belongings outside the bedroom door.

When she had finished putting away Billy’s things, she turned and saw Drayle’s figure in the doorway.

“Hello, youngster,” he said. Both Nate and Billy looked up. Drayle looked confused for a moment.

Lizzie left them to get a washbasin. She went to the kitchen where Dessie filled it with hot water from a kettle on the fire. When she returned, Drayle was no longer in the room. Nate and Billy were sitting on the floor playing with the train set. Rabbit perched on a chair watching them. Lizzie placed the washbasin on the bureau.

“You’ve got to wash up,” she said.

Nate smiled at Billy. “They always make you wash up in this house before you go to bed.”

Drayle returned as she was cleaning behind Billy’s ears. He watched Lizzie lay out sleepwear for the child. Nate and Rabbit had been sent down to the kitchen. After Billy was tucked into the bed, the two of them stepped out into the hallway.

“Lizzie, I’m afraid that you and the children will have to move out to the quarters. For now.”

“The children? Why?” She understood that she would have to move. But the children?

“Because my nephew will use this bedroom.”

He had not answered her question. She understood that Drayle would move back into the bedroom with Fran. But Lizzie had hoped the children could all play together, even sleep together in the extra bedroom.

She nodded and said “Yessir.”

When she got to the kitchen, the children were sitting at the table. The kitchen was clean, and everything was put away. Dessie had already retired for the night.

“Miss Fran says we’ve got to move out to the quarters,” Lizzie announced. She wanted them to believe their beloved Fran had decided upon this loss of status, not their father. It was better, she figured, for them to know sooner rather than later that the white people they loved would disappoint them.

TWENTY-THREE

Two days after she’d moved back in with Big Mama, the old woman died in her sleep. Although Lizzie believed in religion, she wasn’t big on signs. Big Mama had been, though. And Lizzie figured Big Mama would have said God sent her and the children down there to be with her so she wouldn’t die alone.

Lizzie expected Drayle and Fran to do something special to honor Big Mama since she was the oldest slave on the plantation, but they simply told the slaves to bury the woman however they saw fit. On the day of the funeral, Lizzie kept looking up toward the big house to see if either of them would come down, but they didn’t.

Someone quoted a scripture and Lizzie read a poem from a book in Drayle’s library by someone named William Wordsworth. The children cried the hardest. Lizzie returned to Big Mama’s cabin alone and lit a fire. She had never talked much to Big Mama about her relationship with Drayle, and now she wished she had.

Philip had recently been over to the plantation where Polly lived and confirmed to Lizzie that her sister had been sold. When the fire finally died down after a couple of hours, she wrapped herself in Big Mama’s shawl. She cried for a little while. Rocked herself. Wondered if she would ever see Polly again. Polly had not had children. She had been alone before Lizzie. Now she was alone again, on another plantation somewhere. Lizzie had asked Drayle about finding her, but he reported that her former owner had been uncooperative. Without Big Mama and Polly, all Lizzie had were her children.

The longer she stayed there, the more she realized that sleeping in the slave quarters was difficult for a house slave. Each morning, while the slaves tied cloths around their heads and layered whatever clothing they could find to protect themselves from the cold before hustling out to the fields, she put on a dress and walked toward the house.

Her children still refused to play with the other slave children. Fran had filled their bellies and heads with false dreams, and they had a difficult time letting go of this. Rabbit became sullen and withdrawn, and Nate kicked when he was angry.

At first, the slave women barely spoke to Lizzie. But as the months passed, they included her in their conversations. Lizzie’s speech fell back into the rhythm of her youth.

One unusually warm spring night, Lizzie went to bed in just a shirt. When she rolled over, she felt a hand between her thighs. She pushed it away, thinking one of the children was using her as a pillow. Then she felt the sticky hand wedge itself again between her legs.