Yellow Wife(52)

“Just take care of my boy.” To him, I said, “Be good and listen to Aunt Elsie. I will just be up at the house. I will come for you when I can.”

“Why can’t I come now? Marse say I have to stay here?”

To hear Monroe call that man Marse made me cringe. “Yes, for the time being.”

“What I do?”

“It is ‘what did I do,’?” I corrected him. I knew the more that he stayed away from me, the more common he would sound.

“Everything will be all right.” I took his hand and led him out of Elsie’s earshot. We stopped behind the Wintergreen Boxwood bush and I crouched down until we were eye to eye.

“Me and Hester always played that game.” He kicked a pebble.

“?‘Hester and I.’?”

“Hester and I.”

“You did not do anything wrong, son.” Then I pulled his ear to my mouth and whispered, “You his slave in name only, never in your mind, boy. You are meant to see freedom. It is my solemn promise to you.”

“Me and you both, Mama, right?”

I picked a lint ball from his cotton shirt, avoiding his eyes. Did I even dare contemplate freedom or had that dream died when Master Jacob passed away? And get buried even further with the birth of each of my daughters? Truth of the matter was, most days I only thought of liberty for my children. Particularly Monroe, because as long as I pledged my loyalty to the Jailer, our girls seemed destined to live a decent life.

Grabbing both his hands, I said, “I will always protect you. Now listen to Aunt Elsie and remember the things I have told you.”

As the days passed into weeks, I did not get to visit him daily like I wanted. He for one was busy fetching buckets full of water three times his weight, running errands, and stacking firewood. Between prepping the girls for sale and playing at the tavern, I scarcely had time to visit our daughters in the nursery. This new baby felt bigger than any I had carried. Every step I took felt like moving in slow motion. Once the child arrived, I planned to make it my last. The recipe to make this possible resided in my diary, and I planned to use it.



* * *



My head was resting on the side of the table in the shed when Basil and a new girl walked through the door.

“You all right?” she asked me.

“Yes, fine.” I forced myself up. She was pretty enough and did not seem to need much fixing. I selected a blush-colored dress for her, and as I fastened her into it, she told me that her name was Florence. I was in the middle of collecting her history so that I could scribble it into my diary when the birth pain hit me. It came hard and so fast that I doubled over. Then water gushed down my legs.

“The baby.” I could not help but bear down.

“Want me to get someone?”

My teeth started chattering. Florence stood in the door and screamed, “Needin’ some help. Somebody, help.”

I felt the baby slip down. I held onto the table and squatted.

“No time,” I gritted between my teeth. “Have you… done this before?”

Florence nodded. She took off my dress and removed my bloomers. By the time she crouched down on the floor, the head had started crowning.

“This baby ready to see mama,” she said, and then reached down and caught it. “It’s a boy.” She held him up for me to see.

He did not cry out like the other children.

Florence cut the cord with my shears, then wrapped the baby in a soft piece of material. I eased down onto the floor, feeling cold and wet. As Florence covered me up I thought, A boy. His first son.

May God show him favor.





CHAPTER 24




Sons, Then Heirs

God did not show him favor.

Abbie had settled us in my room and the baby burned hotly in my arms. It had been two hours since his birth, and he still had not latched on for a feeding. I worried, and when he dozed off, I thought hard on what Mama would do. The Jailer pushed my door open and entered.

“Is it really a boy?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He moved to my bedside and carefully picked up the baby from my arms. Tears were in his eyes. He has cried over the birth of every one of our children. This time was no different.

“We will name him Rubin.”

I knew that I would not call my son Rubin, and settled on Bin for myself.

“Something is wrong. Didn’t you feel how hot he is? I think we need to send for the doctor,” I told him.

Concern crossed his face as he returned the baby and then left the room. It was not long before I heard an insistent rapping on my door. The gray-haired, hunchbacked doctor entered my bedroom carrying a big black leather bag, with a stethoscope around his neck.

“May I?” He took the baby from me and started unwrapping him from the blankets. After conducting a full examination of Bin, he lowered his eyes and declared that he had puerperal fever.

“He will only last a few more days. I am so sorry.”

The Jailer rubbed my cheek with his hand and then walked the doctor out. I wanted Mama. Most times to sense her was enough, but this was the first time in a while that I’d wanted her physically. There had to be a cure. I needed my diary with the recipes, so I gave Abbie the baby and made my way down the stairs. I could feel the blood gathering between my legs but I had to save my son. I crossed the courtyard and then reached for the tin container that hid my secrets. By the time I returned to my room, the blood had soaked all the way through my skirt.