Fran lay back down on the couch and pulled the covers up to her neck although Lizzie could see that the woman’s eyes remained open.

For the next two days, Fran acted as if their conversation had never happened. She continued to eat beside her at the table. Lizzie had never sat at the table with Fran, so this was uncomfortable for her. In the evenings, Fran made her bed on the sofa beside Lizzie. Lizzie slept on the floor, wrapped up tightly so that her blood would not stain the wood.

During the day, Drayle left the two women, unusually quiet as he observed them. As Lizzie’s strength picked up, she became more relaxed as she felt that she could better handle any advances he might make.

Finally, Drayle announced to the women they were to begin packing up to leave. Lizzie had known they would be leaving soon. They had already been there almost three weeks. She had not seen Philip, so she assumed Drayle’s business had not been to buy his former slave back. She knew if Drayle really wanted Philip back, he could just claim him-with or without free papers-and put him on the first ship downriver.

Over the past week, Lizzie had bled so much that she was pretty certain if there had been a baby there, it was dead now. She tried not to imagine the pretty hair, fat cheeks, and toothless grin. But everywhere she went, she smelled it. The wetness of its slick head on a hot night. The quiet scent of baby piss and sour soiling after feedings.

And everything soft reminded her of it as well. Even her own hairy softness. Would it have had blue eyes and white skin like Rabbit? Or dark intense ones like Nate? how tight would the curls have been? And would it have been her first child to inherit her moles?

On the other hand, she was working on convincing herself that she had not been pregnant after all. The increase in urination, dizziness, nausea had all been a part of her imagination, delusions created by a brain that feared another pregnancy. The tea had merely brought her monthly cycle back, forced her to expel the blood that had accumulated. She concentrated on the seed.

And yet, she could not edge the feeling that she had done something terribly wrong. She walked around with the weight of her secret. Fran’s reaction had not helped, either. Neither of the women had told Drayle, and each time he spoke to Lizzie, she resented him for not seeing through the lie. She didn’t smile, didn’t talk, barely ate in the days following her admission to Fran. All she did was obey. Somebody told her to do something and she said “yes ma’am” or “yessir.” That was all she could bring herself to say.

She made up in her mind that she wanted to see Mawu one more time. She asked Glory to take her. This time, she rode on the back of Glory’s horse and they traveled slowly so the horse’s movements would not jar her tender belly or Glory’s hardened one.

Mawu did not seem to be expecting them. She cried out when she saw them dismounting the horse, and she waved them into the cabin quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked.

Mawu looked from Lizzie to Glory. “I’m moving on. Got word that the slavecatchers is checking cabins in these part of the woods. I been here long enough.”

“They searched my house,” Glory said. Lizzie looked at her, and it occurred to her that Glory could get in a lot of trouble for what she was doing.

“Where will you go?” Lizzie asked Mawu.

“I don’t know,” Mawu answered, staring evenly at her.

Lizzie took Reenie’s letter out of her dress. “I wanted to give you this. I burned the envelope, but it had new York on it.”

“What is it?” Mawu asked.

“A letter from Reenie.”

Mawu grabbed it from her. She pressed it to her lips.

“What does it say?” Glory asked.

Lizzie recounted the contents of the letter. She knew it nearly by heart.

Mawu looked up and smiled. “She fine. She fine.”

Lizzie would remember that look on Mawu’s face for many years to come. The letter had done exactly what she thought it would.

“And it came from new York,” repeated Lizzie.

Mawu nodded. She went to the wall and removed a plank. Behind it was a cloth folded up into a small square.

“Take this.” Mawu opened the cloth and revealed a thin metal necklace. Birds were carved around the length of its metal links.

“Where did you get this?” Lizzie asked.

“The man what taught me the magic. He say it bring me luck. Now I give it to you.”

Lizzie put the necklace to her lips.

“And this for you, too,” Mawu said, handing her a piece of folded paper.

Lizzie spread the paper out. There was a drawing-squares and triangles and octagons all linked together in a pattern. It wasn’t the prettiest drawing Lizzie had ever seen, but it looked carefully done. It reminded her of a quilt, only irregular, as if the quilter had gotten confused along the way.

“You drew this for me?” Lizzie asked.

Mawu cursed. “Girl, is you always thinking about love? That there’s a map. That’s how you gone find me. I done already remembered it. Now you remember it. Then burn it with Reenie’s letter.”

Lizzie studied it. “What does it all mean?”

Mawu explained that the triangles were houses where she could hide. Stay away from the squares. Circles were transporters, people who would take her to the next station.

Lizzie studied the drawing.

“How do I tell what direction I’m going in? What if I get off track?”

Mawu paused. “Look here.” She refolded the paper and then unfolded it again. She pointed to the crease. “That there’s the ravine. That will point you in the right direction.”

Lizzie looked doubtful.

“Or so they tell me. I ain’t started the journey yet my own self. But I hear tell that the families will point you north. As long as you is going north, you is going up the page like this here.”

“I don’t know,” Lizzie said.

“Is you coming or ain’t you, Lizzie? I ain’t got no more time for you. I is leaving tonight. I’ll be a day ahead of you if you leave tomorrow. Us is safer if us ain’t together. But I is gone leave a message for you with whatever family I meet. I is gone send you signs.”

Lizzie still held the drawing. “I’ve got a sister.”

“That sister done been sold,” Mawu said.

“Lizzie, has God told you what to do?” Glory interjected in a soft voice.

“Shut up.” Mawu grabbed Lizzie’s hand. “I ain’t gone make you. But I’ll be looking over my shoulder for you. You hear?”

Lizzie nodded.

On the way back to the resort, Lizzie did not say a word to Glory.

FORTY-THREE

The indecision paralyzed her. They told her to mop the floor. She did it. They told her to sweep the steps. She did it. They told her to go help in the kitchen. She did it. They told her to go sit in the corner until somebody else told her what to do. She did that too.

After dinner, she helped clear the dishes from the main dining room. But she moved as if she were tied to the ceiling by strings.

The servants in the kitchen were talking. They stopped when they saw Lizzie. Then Clarissa took a look at her and said, “Your friend got caught. They found out where she was hiding.”

Lizzie dropped the plates in her hands. By some miracle they didn’t break, hitting the floor with a loud noise. “What?” she said.

“The one with the African name.”

“They got her?”

That part of her she thought was dead woke back up. She felt her knees give out. It took everything she had to keep standing.

Clarissa nodded.

“How did they find her?”

She shook her shoulders. “Child, I wish I knew. But you know it’s a lot of snakes in these here parts.”

The other women nodded and continued on with their business. Nobody liked to talk about such things. Only Clarissa stayed, holding on to Lizzie’s arm.