Yellow Wife(53)

The diary bulged in my hand, nearly full from all the girls’ stories I had collected over the years. In the front were Mama’s recipes, and I turned the pages until I found it. The tea was meant for adults but it was all I had. I tucked the diary under my pillow, called to Abbie, then rattled off a list of what I needed from the market.

While I waited for her to return, I tried to get the baby to suck. He would for a few seconds and then give up. I kneaded my nipple and tried to make the milk come down to make it easier for him. He took a swallow and then fell from my breast.

“Come on, Bin, just take a little bit for Mama,” I coaxed.

I knew I had no business getting out of bed again, it had so exhausted me the first time, but when Abbie returned with the ingredients, I made my way over to the kitchen house.

Elsie opened the door. “What you doin’ here, Miss Pheby? Should be restin’.”

“Doctor said the baby is not going to live long. I have got to try to save him.” I held up the bag with the ingredients.

“What you needin’ me to do?”

“Help me make this tea.” I sat down on the chair in the corner and gave Elsie the instructions on how to brew it. When she finished, she brought me a taste.

“Little more apple cider vinegar and I will be on my way.”

Elsie poured the tea into a pot and then helped me up from my seat. I thought she would just hand over the pot but she carried it to the house for me.

Abbie rocked Bin near the window. “Ain’t moved much since you gone.”

I eased back on the bed. His body still burned hot, and his skin looked grayish.

“Hey, sweet Bin,” I said. He opened his tiny slits of eyes and looked at me for the smallest second. I took it as we had an understanding. I, as his mama, was going to do everything to keep him alive. He was going to drink the tea and let me work a miracle.

I used a dropper to feed him the tea around the clock, every hour on the hour, but saw little improvement. Abbie prayed, Elsie sang, and July mostly kept the girls occupied.

By the third night of our around-the-clock vigil, Bin’s breathing had grown shallow. Abbie was sitting at the foot of my bed, Elsie in the chair in the corner when Bin started crying, loud and steady. I looked down at him in my arms. It was the first time I’d heard his voice. I tried to soothe him with my words. “It is okay, Bin. Mama’s right here.”

He gave a shudder and then a small sigh. Everything in him went still. An icy feeling traveled up my arms.

“Noooo,” I cried out, but Bin was gone. Even though the doctor had warned me, I sat in disbelief.

Elsie came for the baby. “Abbie, get her to sip from the brown jar. She in shock.”

Everything inside of me was shattered and thrashing all at the same time. I felt worse than I did when I was sold, when I had lost Essex, worse even than how I felt when mama died. This one pierced me down in a place deep, and the pain kept hemorrhaging.

“Come on, Miss Pheby.” Abbie tipped the jar to my mouth, and then everything went blank.

When I woke up, the sun had gone down and the curtains were drawn. The Jailer laid next to me. His arms wrapped around me like a cradle. When I turned toward his face, his cheeks were moist, and his eyes were red too.





CHAPTER 25




Undone

I could feel myself dying, week by week. I could not eat, could not sew, did not want to be bothered with any of the children. I just stayed in my room, staring at the wall. When I did push myself up from my pillow, my hair stayed on the sheets. It dropped out by the clumps. The Jailer worried sick over me. He even had the doctor bring me opium drops, but I refused to swallow them. Mama had cautioned me against white people’s medicine all my life, so I knew better.

My breasts had filled to the point of pain, puffing out like tightly packed water balloons. Abbie covered them with cabbage leaves to dry them out. Two weeks passed, and nothing revived me from my grief. Then Abbie appeared at the door with Monroe.

“Marse went in to town. Be quick,” she said to Monroe and pushed him toward me. He seemed to have grown a full inch.

“Mama, what is wrong?”

My face opened into a smile as I made room for him next to me on the bed. I smothered him against my breasts and kissed both of his cheeks.

“You okay, Mama?”

“Yes, baby. Now that you are here.”

He looked around, eyes bulging over my delicate things. That is when I remembered that he had never been to my room.

“You sick?” He touched my forehead.

“A little.”

“Want Aunt Elsie to make you some tea?”

I nodded.

“I made you something.” He reached into his pocket and then held up a bracelet woven from straw.

“Did you do it all by yourself?”

“Tommy helped me.”

“I love it, thank you.”

Abbie entered. “Better get goin’. Hear the carriage.”

Monroe kissed my temple, and I grabbed his face and whispered, “Remember the things I have told you.”

He nodded his head and then followed Abbie out. I slipped the bracelet on my arm and then crossed it over my heart.



* * *



The following day, the Jailer appeared with a box.

“For you, love.”