Yellow Wife(19)
The sun had moved to the other side of the plantation, so I knew I would be missed up at the house, but I could not stop. Mama’s roots and recipes were all I had left, and I scribbled until I’d exhausted my memory.
Mama had always sewn secret pockets on the inside of my skirt so that I could move goods around without being detected. I decided to start carrying the diary with me tucked in the hidden pocket of my petticoat. I wrapped the book inside of Mama’s mauve headscarf; that way I could smell her like she was in the room with me. Not wanting to leave all of Mama’s hard work behind, I loaded up the containers and made several trips to the sick house, where her herbs and tinctures would be of use, then carried the mixtures Aunt Hope would appreciate to the kitchen.
Back up at the big house, the lanterns were out, and Missus Delphina had gone down for the night. The next morning, she did not utter one single word to me. All my instructions came through Lovie. I was not sure if the encounter between us had spooked her or not, and I did not have room in my thoughts to care much. Mama’s funeral was only two days away, and with my workload I had no time or material to pull together a proper mourning dress. Aunt Hope sent me with a basket of scraps down to Lowtown, and on my way back I stopped in the loom house to see if I could find anything to wear.
When I climbed the ladder, the room smelled like lemons and vinegar, and I suspected that Aunt Hope had come over and tidied up the way Mama would have. Draped on the hook behind the door hung the red calico dress that Mama had worn on the day she left with Master Jacob for Charleston. I had not noticed it when I recorded her recipes, but it jumped out at me now. The red was rich and bright. I brought it to my nose, then held it at arm’s length. It was the finest piece that Mama owned, and the perfect way to honor her memory.
For the next two nights, I snuck over to the loom house and worked on Mama’s dress, taking it in to fit my slimmer size and repairing the lace on the bodice. When Saturday morning arrived, I had one last piece to hem to complete the transformation of the dress, but I still felt anxious that I would not finish. Lovie must have sensed my angst, because when she noticed me struggling with waxing the floor, she offered to take over so that I could prepare.
I stripped out of my house clothes, splashed down with water, and then tied a piece of material around my waist to suffice as a corset. My diary I hid in the pocket of my petticoat. Next, I put on Mama’s hoopskirt, being careful with the grapevine. When I buttoned the bodice of the red calico dress and caught sight of myself in the small hanging mirror, I clutched my chest. Looking back at me was the spitting image of Mama. Just younger, with fairer skin. I wrapped my arms around myself and exhaled my grief. She had been meant to see my freedom and now it would never happen.
A piece of silk bobbin lace was left over from a tablecloth, and I used that as my mourning veil. At sunset, I met Lovie and Aunt Hope in front of the kitchen house.
“You look so beautiful.” Aunt Hope teared up.
Lovie squeezed my hand. “Your mama be proud.”
The three of us walked to the clearing in Lowtown where the service would be held. The clearing served as the slaves’ meeting place for Sunday church services, jumping-the-broom ceremonies, and general time-off gatherings. Farther down, behind the old barn house, was the cemetery where Mama would be laid to rest.
People arrived in pairs and groups to pay their respects. The field hands cleaned their faces, but most did not own a second set of clothes in which to honor Mama. A few girls picked rosebuds and put them in their hair, and the men tied bows made of plant stems around their necks. Once everyone arrived, we stood around the fire holding hands. Aunt Hope and Lovie stood on either side of me. Johnnie White, our preacher, gave the word.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Don’t let your heart be troubled and be not afraid.”
I took Mama’s needlework and placed it over the rough, homemade coffin for her to use in the afterlife. Aunt Hope put down a cup and saucer, Parrott a medicine bottle filled with her favorite herbs, and Lovie woolen socks to keep her warm. I then removed the white orchid from my hair and tossed it over the coffin. All the women and children followed. Then the men picked up their shovels and started layering the box with dirt. The smell of soil reminded me of burying Missus’s infant boy and covering up her lie. A woman started to sing a hymn.
Voice by voice, more singers joined in, and soon I was enclosed by song. The kids clapped their hands to the beat. All of us swayed, sang, and prayed until Mama’s coffin was buried.
Missus had lifted her constraints on the food rations and allowed a feast to be prepared for the occasion. Aunt Hope ushered everyone to the long wooden table; it was covered with stewed chicken, sweet potatoes, dumplings, spinach, corn, and sweet bread. The field hands brought their bowls, and I watched as Aunt Hope made sure they were filled to the brim. I did not have an appetite for food, so I dished out the applesauce for dessert. Once people’s bellies were content, the music started up and the dancing began. The griots had brought with them homemade instruments; the banjo, a drum, tambourines, a balafo, and panpipes.
A new wave of sadness came over me. I usually danced with Essex at our parties, but now Parrott lifted me to my feet and we moved together. I closed my eyes and pretended he was Essex, the necklace he had given me pressing against my neck. Everyone clapped and I stirred my hips, trying to shake all the pain from my body. My feet stomped and the movement rinsed and released my heart. I had not felt so free in weeks. As I curtsied to Parrott I heard horses up the hill. With the wine being passed around it seemed that most were too relaxed to notice. Aunt Hope looked in the direction of Hightown and I knew she heard it too. I scooted over to her, wondering if the patrollers had come with news on Essex.