Once again, it was Lizzie’s fault. She had not been able to make up her mind, and Mawu had obviously tried to wait for her. And the woman had given her the lucky necklace. Lizzie didn’t believe in superstitions, but she did wonder if she had taken Mawu’s luck. She tried to block out in her mind what Sir would do to her. It hurt too bad to think about. She just hoped Mawu’s strength was real.

“They was all after her,” Clarissa was whispering as she neared close enough to Lizzie to continue working while she talked. “Her master ain’t come back this summer, but he upped the reward money. I suspect it’s the highest reward money I seen in these parts in a while.”

Lizzie asked one of the young women to help her up the stairs because she didn’t think she could make it by herself. Just as they were about to go, an elegant colored woman walked into the kitchen. She was dressed like a white woman, but she was passing through the kitchen door. Her sheer size made her dress seem even grander. There was a man with her who looked just like her. They were both dressed like free colored folks of stature. And from the looks of it, they were brother and sister.

If her mind had not been completely elsewhere, Lizzie might have recognized the face. She might have remembered the girl in the dirty head rag who used to work in the hotel and help her father on occasion when he came to cut the men’s hair. But there was something big sitting on top of Lizzie’s chest. Too big for her to see past.

The pretty colored woman with the smooth skin came right up to her. Lizzie stepped back.

“Lizzie,” she whispered.

Then it came to her. The barber’s daughter. Philip’s wife.

The woman leaned forward as if to say something in Lizzie’s ear. “Philip says for you to meet him by Sweet’s grave under the cover of night. He’ll be waiting for you.”

Then she put a bonnet on her head, her companion took her arm, and they were gone. Lizzie stood there looking after them, turning the words over in her mind.

Did Philip know they were leaving? he knew this was the last summer of the resort. Mawu must have talked to him.

She stood there weighing everything before her: Mawu’s capture, Reenie’s letter, Sweet’s death, Nate and Rabbit, Drayle’s touch, Fran’s admission. With Mawu gone, little seemed to matter anymore. And yet it did. Did Philip know that Mawu had been caught?

Lizzie put her hand on her belly. She wanted to ride Mr. Goodfellow again. She wanted to go back to the days when Drayle brought her gifts. She missed seeing her children throw horseshoes. She thought of Big Mama and how she had taught her to cook using next to nothing.

She made it to her room and took off her dress. She stretched out in the middle of the bed, naked, her belly poking out just beneath the navel. She put both hands on her middle.

The old me would have cried. The new me is all torn up inside.

How can I still love him?

FORTY-FOUR

Philip had his hat against his chest, and he was kneeling before the grave. Even though his head wasn’t bowed Lizzie could tell as she approached that he was praying. It was late, not quite middle of the night, and he was wearing a suit. She had never seen him in a suit before. She touched his elbow, trying to pull him up. She did not want him to get the knee of his pants dirty.

“Lizzie.” he hugged her to him.

“Your wife. She told me you would be here.” She said the word “wife” with a lilt.

“So glad you came, Miss Lizzie. So glad you came. Come on over here. I got something for you to sit on.”

He led her to a tree stump that he had covered with a red cloth. Lizzie did not want to sit on such a cloth. But he guided her onto it, and then stood looking down at her.

“You happy?”

“I sho am. I got a good woman. She come from a good family. They treat me right. Being free is…it’s something I can’t rightly explain.”

“Do you remember the old days?”

“What you mean? It ain’t been that long. Course I do.” he paused. “I miss my horses. They about the only thing I miss.”

Lizzie looked down at her lap.

“And the children. I miss them.”

“You ought to see Nate,” she said. “He’s almost a man.”

Philip looked off. She heard the clucking sound in his throat.

“Long as he a slave, he ain’t gone never be a man,” he said.

“You an abolitionist now?”

He set his hat on the stump beside her. “Ain’t no such thing as a colored abolitionist. That’s a word for the white folks. We ain’t got to distinguish ourselves.”

Lizzie nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

She fingered the edge of her dress. “You heard about Mawu?”

“Yeah. I don’t understand why she stayed round here. These is dangerous parts. She should’ve left long time ago.”

Lizzie heard an owl hoot. Owls were such precious birds. Even though she had heard owls plenty of times, she had only seen one once. It had not moved even though she was right near it. It stared at her blankly. She’d wanted to reach out and take it in her hands, stroke its feathers.

“You know why I come to you. I know you believe in Marsuh Drayle. I know you think he different than most white men. But I wants you to know that if you got a mind to leave, I can help you. We can go right now if you wants to. I can point you in the right direction.”

Lizzie felt the front of her dress for the drawing Mawu had given her. She had burned Reenie’s letter after hearing that Mawu was captured. But she still had the map.

She didn’t know how to explain to Philip how she had changed. She didn’t know how to explain that if she returned she would not be doing so out of loyalty to Drayle. She would not be returning just for the sake of her children. She would be returning for another reason, a reason she could not quite articulate. It didn’t have to do with God, but it did have something to do with the sky.

“Philip, I do appreciate your coming.” She stood and cupped his chin in her hand.

He stroked his face against her palm. “I know what that mean. That mean you ain’t coming. That mean you still can’t bear to leave him.”

She took the paper out of her dress. “Mawu gave me this before she got caught. She was waiting for me. She believed in me just like you do. Ain’t that something? everybody seems to think I’m somebody I ain’t.”

She pressed the paper into his hand. “Take it.”

“You know I can’t read.” he unfolded it and studied it. He slid it into the pocket of his trousers.

“This is what I want you to tell them. Tell Jeremiah that he still owe me from that game of checkers. Tell Young Joe that…” he proceeded to give her a litany of messages for the men back on the plantation. Lizzie tried to imprint the messages in her mind, associating them with the faces of the men he mentioned.

“…ain’t no chance?” he was saying.

If she left, there was no doubt in her mind that Drayle would find her. He would hire every bounty hunter in the country. She would not get far. Even with the speed of not being burdened with a pregnancy, she would have a difficult time outrunning the dogs.

Still, freedom beckoned to her. Even the thought of it made her feel lighter on her feet. It made her want to jump up and down, run screaming through the forest, hug the nearest person to her. If she could do it. If she could win the freedom of her and her children, she could have a real life. She was still young. The children were still young. They had all their adult years to be free.

But there was the sky. And there was no denying it. It had a say in this, too.

Lizzie sat in Drayle’s lap. He swung back and forth in the rocker on the porch of the cottage. She placed her toes on top of his. “My Lizzie, do you know why I came this summer?”

“No, I reckon I don’t.”

He clapped his hands on her thighs. “You are going to be so happy with me!”