She looked at him. Only one thing could make her happy. But Drayle lived in his own world. She had no idea what he thought would make her feel joy.

“They are selling this resort to a group of missionaries. Some holy folks who are going to turn it into a school.”

Lizzie nodded. She was still bleeding lightly, but Drayle had taken her on the floor of the cottage just moments before. She had lain there listlessly, thinking about the previous night’s meeting with Philip, trying to remember all the messages he had sent to the slaves back home.

“A school for colored.”

He stopped rocking and Lizzie turned to look at him. He nuzzled his nose in her neck, clearly looking for appreciation.

“What are you talking about? I can already read.”

He shook his head. “No. For Nate. My son. He needs to get his lessons properly. When we return, I’m going to get him a teacher to come to the house and give him his lessons. You’ve taught him just about everything you can. Now he needs a real education. After that, I’m going to…”

The words ran together. She needed to slow him down, but her lips wouldn’t move. What was that he was saying? Lessons? School? education?

“After that you’re going to what?” she asked.

“You didn’t hear me? I’m going to send him here for school.”

She had been waiting so long for this kind of news that she wasn’t prepared for it. Her head didn’t feel as if it were properly attached to her body. It was as if it would break off and roll across the floor if she moved an inch.

“F-f-free him?”

Drayle chuckled. “I didn’t say that. He is still my son, and so still my rightful property. But if he does well in school and doesn’t get any notions in his head to run off, I’m going to bring him back south and give him his own plot of land to work. I imagine he could build himself a house and find him a woman to bear his children.”

“Oh?”

“My grandchildren. I’m hoping he’ll get him a sweet yellow gal.”

“Oh.” Lizzie felt her eyes begin to moisten. It was too much to take in. Had he told Fran? What did she think? Would she approve?

“But.” She was breathing rapidly. “Rabbit.”

Drayle shook his head. “Lizzie, you are something else. You know that? You are never satisfied. I give you an inch and you want to take a yard.”

Lizzie knew what that meant. There were no such plans for Rabbit. So what did he intend for her? Surely, he had thought of her getting properly married and bearing his grandchildren, too. A scene came into her head of Rabbit playing on the grounds of the nearby colored resort. “But she’s smart, Drayle. She needs education, too.”

Drayle pulled her to him and closed his eyes. He was ending the conversation.

Lizzie knew him well enough to understand what his silence meant. Rabbit would be the bait that would bring Nate home. Rabbit would bear children that would give him house slaves, while Nate would bear the children that would inherit Drayle’s name. He had worked it all out in his mind.

Lizzie knew she should feel excited about one of her children escaping the plantation. And she was. But she wanted more. She felt she deserved more.

FORTY-FIVE

Lizzie had been told they were leaving that very day. Drayle wasn’t taking any chances. He’d had Lizzie tied to the front porch of his cottage all morning long. She’d been sitting there all day, lapping up water out of a bowl like a dog. She put her whole face in it trying to cool off. Could she drown in that bowl if she stuck her face in it long enough?

“You ought to be happy about seeing your children,” Fran said through the window. “They’ll be waiting on you.”

My children ain’t the only thing I love. If I was allowed, I reckon I’d love myself, too.

It was clear to Lizzie that Drayle had not told Fran about his plan to send Nate to Ohio to be educated. Did Drayle really think Lizzie would try to escape when her son’s future rested on her decision to return south with him? She supposed he had her tied up because he did not want to risk having his plan disrupted. Lizzie scoffed at his ignorance. Surely he realized that if she had planned to escape, she would have done so long before then.

Drayle had a cart brought around to carry the trunks up to the hotel. Lizzie wondered about her rag bundle. Her two dresses. The necklace Mawu had given her.

“I need my things,” she called out to Fran.

“What things? You act like you own something,” Fran said as she came out of the door. She squatted and placed a cracker on Lizzie’s tongue. “I put them in my trunk,” she added.

Lizzie chewed and looked out over the pond. The cabin that Mawu burned down the summer before was gone. There wasn’t anything there now but a square patch of dirt with weeds shooting through. The other cabins looked empty, doors swinging back and forth in the wind. Lizzie was glad the hotel had been sold to a missionary group for a colored school. The land would belong to God now. She looked over at the spot where Sir had beaten Mawu in front of all of them, and she hoped the missionaries could bring some holiness to the place.

The water wheel turned.

She remembered how she used to want to learn to be a lady. To learn to hold her skirt over the ground. It had never worked for her. It seemed like each time she had tried to grab a fistful of fabric, it got caught between her feet and tripped her up.

A thought stopped her. What if he had lied? What if he had told her he was going to educate Nate just to make sure she returned?

She dismissed the thought. Drayle had told the truth. She could feel it.

As she leaned against the porch post, she thought of Rabbit and what she would teach her. This was what she would say: Don’t give in to the white man. And if you have to give in, don’t give your soul over to him. Love yourself first. Fix it so you don’t give him children. If you ever make it to freedom, remember your mammy who tried to be good to you. Hold fast to your women friends because they are going to be there when ain’t nobody else there. If you don’t believe in God, it’s all right. God believes in you. Never forget your name. Keep track of your years and how old you are. Don’t be afraid to say how you feel. Learn a craft so you always have something to barter other than your private parts.

What kind of craft could Rabbit learn? Big Mama had made soap, but she had lost both eyes because of it. Philip had trained horses. Lizzie could cook. She thought of Sweet and her ability to sew. It had sustained her while she was mourning. Maybe she would make certain that Rabbit knew how to sew. Then she thought of Reenie’s ability to birth a baby. That was a skill that could come in handy, for sure.

Drayle climbed the steps of the cottage. He leaned down and kissed Lizzie on the head.

“How is my darling?”

“Not understanding why you tied me up. I ain’t going nowhere.”

“I know. I just don’t want to have to go looking for you. You ready, Francesca?” he called.

“I’ll walk on up by myself,” she answered.

He smiled at Lizzie. She tried to make sense of it, this smile of his that looked for all the devil like he meant it.

She watched him walk in the direction of the hotel. He disappeared into its crumbling whiteness.