Yellow Wife(4)

“Pheby is capable. And overseer Snitch knows this place almost better than I.”

“Pheby is dim-witted,” she spat, like I was not standing there.

“I do not think you have given her a chance. Sally taught Pheby a lot.”

“Your sister spoiled that girl rotten. Got her thinking that she is better than a slave. For once, I wish you would take my side,” she pouted.

“I am always on your side.”

Missus removed her napkin, dabbing roughly at her mouth.

“Going to stop by your parents’ farm along the way. Anything you want me to deliver them besides the good news?”

She frowned. “Me, Jacob. I cannot stand to be here alone again. I declare, these darkies are trying to craze me.”

“Oh,” he said sweetly, “you are with child, dear, and need your rest.”

“I need to be around someone I can have a real conversation with. The isolation is deafening. Cannot remember the last time I saw a white woman.”

“Your parents were just here for the winter feast.”

“Feels like ages ago.” She sighed. “I beg you.”

“The whole house would fall apart without you here.”

“Then let it crumble,” she declared, but then when she saw the crinkled-up look on Master’s face, she shoved her spoon in her mouth.

He signaled to me for more stew.

“Who are you taking with you?”

“Parrott and Ruth.”

“Ruth.” She spat out Mama’s name. “That nigger woman needs to stay here and work. We are already short hands and we need to prepare the house for spring. Not to mention the planting.”

“All your worrying will make you sick. Now, I will send for someone from the fields to help. With thirty-nine slaves, I am sure we can make it work.”

“Thirty-nine personalities for me to manage alone.”

“Snitch is a good overseer. He’ll keep everyone in line. Besides, it will only be about two or three weeks.”

“You said that the last time you went south and you stayed away three months.”

I could tell by the way Master chewed the inside of his jaw that his patience had waned. Missus must have noticed too, because she dropped her eyes and reached for her lemonade.

“Please let Lovie know to begin preparing my things for departure.”

Missus pushed her bowl away from her.

“Pheby,” Master Jacob called to me. I stepped from the shadows. His eyes registered the damage to my cheek and then he swallowed. “I will have tea and plum pudding in the parlor.”

“Yes, sir.”

“?‘Yes, master!’?” Missus Delphina roared. “See, the girl has no manners.”

“Yes, master.” I backed out of the dining room before Missus could raise any more Cain.

The kitchen sat at the back of the property. The stone building had a wooden door, and a cloud of smoke bellowed from the chimney. Aunt Hope, the plantation cook, stood bent over her cast-iron pot. I guessed she was stirring up sweet potatoes from the smell of sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg that peppered the air. Soon as I entered the room my body temperature climbed.

“What they needin’?” She shuffled from the pot to the ovens to the bowl of green beans on the center worktable. Sweat rolled down her neck and settled in a puddle in her ample cleavage. I fanned myself with the edge of my blouse and delivered Master’s message.

“Ain’t had nothin’ on your stomach today.” She reached into the wire-rimmed basket and handed me a piece of bread that I quickly stuffed between my teeth, and a boiled egg that I inhaled in the time it took her to prepare Master’s dish.

Missus Delphina did not look up at me as I passed through the dining room with the dessert tray. The parlor sat off to the side of the carriage hall, enclosed by two grained pocket doors. It was my favorite room in the house, and where I’d spent countless hours with Miss Sally sitting by the fireplace, reading in the inglenook, learning arithmetic and geography, and playing the piano. Miss Sally’s mahogany piano had a tapestry front, and legs that mirrored animal limbs, with feet and claws. As a child, I used to make up ridiculous stories about the animal carvings just to make Miss Sally laugh. I liked to see her happy.

She never married on account of her illness. No one bothered to tell me what ailed her, just that she suffered from woman problems and there was nothing Mama or the white doctor could do. Near her end, she was so frail that Master Jacob would carry her to the parlor and prop her up with pillows so that I could play for her. When she became too weak to clap, she mouthed, “Brava.”

I found Master sitting in his wingback chair, smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper.

“Anything else I can do for you, sir? I mean master?”

As I placed the tray on the table next to him, he motioned for me to lean closer. Taking my face in his big hands, he turned it from side to side, surmising the damage.

“Hurt much?”

I shook my head.

“Tell Hope I said to give you a good bit of that mutton stew. Cure-all for everything and I know how you like it.”

I smiled the best I could with the inflamed cheek.

“Play something nice for me?”

“On the piano?” I gasped. Missus Delphina had forbid me to play unless company needed to be impressed, which had not happened in a long while.