Yellow Wife(29)

“But July my best—”

“And move Pheby into the back room of the house.”

“The big house?” Her mouth opened wide enough for me to see her tonsils.

The Jailer nodded and I shivered.

“Ain’t show me no favor when I’s carryin’.”

“Mind your tongue.”

“Worked me so hard, lost all three of my ninnys.” Elsie parted her lips to sass some more, but then the Jailer raised his hand and slapped her concerns right back down her throat. The sound popped so loud, it stopped me from breathing. I watched as Elsie dropped her head and returned her eyes to the beans. She said nothing more, but I could feel the anger, embarrassment, and indignation radiating from her skin.

“Have it done before supper.” He walked away. His boots left footprints behind in the sand.

“Best be movin’ on,” Elsie murmured toward me.

I left the wash and climbed the stairs to the upper room. I gathered the few things I owned: Mama’s dress, a blanket, and the thimble. My diary stayed hidden in my pocket at all times, and I was already wearing the necklace and shoes. When I turned to leave, Elsie had filled the doorway with her wide hips. She looked older than she had just ten minutes before. Her jaw had started to swell something awful. I moved to pass, but Elsie seized me by the arm.

“He ain’t what you think.”

“Turn me loose.”

Her fingernails dug into my skin. “You know what they call him? Bully. This place? Say it’s the Devil’s Half Acre. Now who you thinkin’ the devil be?”

She released my arm and stepped aside. I hurried down the stairs with her words vibrating in my head. July met me outside. We moved from the kitchen house across the path that led to the big house. It was enclosed by a black wrought-iron gate, and was the building farthest away from the jail. I lifted the latch and crossed a small patch of grass. Abbie, the house girl, stood at the door to greet us. Her yellow dress hung like a sack from her lanky body. When I reached the front door, her smile, which seemed genuine, comforted me. It took strength not to collapse into her arms the way I would Mama’s.

“Right this way.” She hobbled, dragging her left foot behind her.

This was my first time inside the big house, and given that it was about half the size of Master Jacob’s, my thought was that it did not appear to be big at all. Directly in front of me was a wide staircase with a dark wood banister. To my left, a dining room. On the right, a parlor. Both rooms had floor-to-ceiling windows with hardwood floors. July and I trailed Abbie down a long hallway and into a small bedroom behind the staircase.

“Here we are.” Abbie gestured.

The room was quaint: big fluffy pillows on the bed, yellow curtains, and a shaggy throw rug. A side table held a pitcher of water and a clean glass. As I walked around touching everything, Elsie’s warning quickly vanished from my thoughts. Tonight I would sleep in a real bed, and I reveled in the comfort of it.

“Thank you,” I said to Abbie.

“Let me know if you needin’ anything. July know her way ’round pretty good.” She closed the door behind her.

I sat down. July came next to me, and I pulled the girl to my chest and hugged her.

As I became acquainted with my new living quarters, I decided to hide the diary Miss Sally had given me under a small chest in the back of my bedroom closet. Seemed safer than carrying it around with me, especially with my dress getting tight. I also moved the desk and chair farther into the corner to make more space for July in case she wanted to bring over some personal things.

The next night, Abbie came to my room. July had just finished brushing my hair and twisted it into a chignon. I had found a ball of pearl wool in the shed and was guiding July on knitting a scarf.

“Marse Rubin like to see you in the parlor.”

“Why?” My heart raced at the thought of being alone with him.

“Best put on something from the closet.”

July hopped up and pulled open the closet door. There hung three dresses. I’d seen them before but I had not known they were intended for me. There were beautifully fussy white-women dresses with embroidered edges and puffed sleeves. Finer than anything that Mama had ever made for me. But I sensed wearing them was a trap.

“What I am wearing will do.”

“You sure?” Abbie made her eyes big.

“I am.” My fingers shook as I smoothed down my linen work dress. It had grown snug over my belly in the past few days, and I noted that I could probably make it another week or two before needing to let the bodice go completely.

“Betta hurry, Marse hates to wait,” said Abbie. I did not wish to go, but being without choice, I stretched my face into what I hoped was a pleasant expression and headed down the hall.

The Jailer sat in a high-back Victorian chair, with a nightcap on the table next to him and the newspaper in his lap. Logs burned away in the fireplace, and out the window I could see the sun setting over the buildings behind us. I pushed my knees together to steady my trembling.

“Please sit.” He looked at me over his spectacles.

“I prefer to stand, sir.”

He looked at me again. “Sit.”

I gathered my skirts and sat on the edge of the chair farthest away from him.

“Do you find your new living quarters fit?”

“Yes. Thank you for your kindness.”