Yellow Wife(35)

I was finally free.

The notion made me want to throw my arms in the air and spin in circles. A giddiness came over me that I had not felt in months, and I opened my mouth wide, trying to drink down as much fresh air and sunlight as I could hold. When we exited the alley onto Main Street, I surveyed my surroundings. The streets bustled with activity. More people than I had even seen at one time. Businessmen and well-dressed women. Groups of coloreds in simple clothing stood on the corners.

“What are they doing?” I leaned into Abbie.

“Hiring themselves out. Marse write them a note to collect wages.”

“Oh.”

“Way for marses to make even more money.”

I stepped down off the curb, but then Abbie pulled me back as a carriage passed.

“You ain’t in the country no more.” She chuckled.

I dusted my dress off. “What are we shopping for?”

“Food, material, and supplies.”

Wide-eyed, I followed Abbie in and out of several stores, watching her negotiate prices. “Don’t think Marse Lapier would agree with that price. Can you do betta than that?” she asked, using her long fingers to smooth out her rough wool skirt.

For such a petite woman she had a good mouth. After we placed the last order at Thalhimer’s Dry Goods, she led me down a little backstreet.

“There’s a bakery at the corner run by coloreds. We can sit a spell.” Then she peeked around and put her mouth to my ear.

“Stop for slaves when they run.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“My foot might be lame, but God give me two good ears.” She smiled that girlish grin and I squeezed her arm.

When we walked into the bakery, the scent of butter, vanilla, and cinnamon intoxicated me. Abbie asked me what I wanted and I pointed to the biggest piece of apple pie.

“Got a sweet tooth.”

“Small pleasure in this bleakness.”

“It will get better in time.”

Her optimistic view of the future did not catch fire in my heart, but I did not reveal this as we found a bistro table with two seats on the patio.

“How come you never call him Marse?” She passed me my pastry.

I shrugged. “I left my master back on the plantation.”

“I ain’t never met no woman like you. You don’t act like the rest of us.”

I stared out into the street unable to explain the world I had come from, and the war that raged inside of me. Mama had told me not to get caught with no slave babies—my only task was freedom. The past few months had devastated that plan, and now with Master Jacob gone, and the birth of Monroe, I saw no way out. Still, I could not crumble.

I took a bite of piecrust and tried to lose myself in its goodness. The flakiness melted on my tongue and made me think of Aunt Hope’s sweet treats. I made a note to get an extra slice to surprise July.

Just then, a breeze blew the ribbons of my bonnet, and when I glanced up, a beige woman was sauntering our way. She was dressed finer than Missus Delphina ever had been, even when the plantation hosted company. Heavy jewelry dripped from her earlobes and wrists.

“Beautiful bonnet.” She smiled as she passed.

“Thank you.” I leaned over Abbie. “Who was that?”

“Corrina Hinton. She the mistress of the jail off Birch Alley.”

“But she looks—”

“Yep, she mulatto far as I know. Marses here in Richmond makin’ they own rules. She has three or four children with Mr. Omohundro. Come and go as she pleases. I always see her lookin’ mighty pretty.”

I watched her disappear down the cobblestone street, trying to imagine how she could say yes to this life. But what choice did we have?

“Rumor is she run the business better than her husband. Take care of all they affairs. Marse probably wantin’ the same from you.”

I looked up. “That is ridiculous.”

“Way he courtin’ you and all. Have not seen him act like this before, and I been livin’ here ten years.”

“How come he does not have a white wife?”

“No respectable man would marry his daughter off to the owner of a slave pen. Even though Marse is wealthy, high society southerners consider traders dishonorable. Call them the pariahs of men.”

“How do you know so much?”

“Been around long enough to know how things work. That’s how I know you the one Marse choose.”

I put down my fork.

“Just like Mr. Omohundro choose Ms. Corrina. Better get used to it.”

I searched for a way to change the subject. Then Abbie patted me on my arm and told me it was time to go. I did not feel ready to return to my prison, so I asked her to take the long way around. We went through the back way, but even so, I could smell Lapier’s Alley before we turned the corner. The stench worsened with every step we took, and then it was insufferable. I covered my nose with my sleeve.

“Avert your eyes,” Abbie called out, but I moved mine too late. In the mud laid a half dozen naked bodies tossed at the front of the lot. One was a small child with his eyes still open.

“Wait for the pile to grow high, then bury them all at the same time.” Abbie pulled me toward the back entrance. “Don’t come this way much.”

We crossed behind the buildings where the dogs barked like they had not been fed. Their chains scraped against the earth as they pulled and yanked to be set loose. As we approached the courtyard, a woman screamed in agony. She had blood on her arms; her eyes bulged from her head, and her fingers stretched wide for a young boy being snatched away from her by a white man. The child looked to be about three.