Yellow Wife(66)

While July packed up their school things, I moved the girls into the breakfast room so that Abbie could serve dinner. Once we were washed and seated, Abbie announced, “Marse said eat wit’ out him.”

“Is he coming home?”

She shrugged.

I had planned to sneak out to see Essex, but I could not leave the house until the Jailer passed out. After getting the girls to bed, I waited in the parlor for him, hoping that he would return and quickly have his way with me so I could give him the sleep aid. After an hour of reading, I paced the floor of the parlor. What could be keeping him? I had grown anxious to get over to Essex and tell him all that I had accomplished. When the clock struck ten, I knew that the Jailer would be cross if I was still awake, so I gave up my vigil.

“Abbie, I am going to retire,” I called out.

Abbie must not have heard me, because she did not light the candles in the hallway or in my bedroom. I struck the fire and lit the candle next to my bed. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I felt an onset of dry heaves. I tried reaching for the pitcher of water, but then my dinner traveled up my throat and spouted from my mouth all over the floor. What a mess I had made. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, and picked up the envelope that sat on my pillow. It was the letter I had written to Essex’s friend. Hilda, the seamstress, had betrayed me. I choked and then retched again.





CHAPTER 31




My Charges

I must have fallen asleep because the sun was up when July’s hands were gripping my shoulders.

“Missus, wake up,” she cried.

I jerked forward so fast I experienced a rush of dizziness. My fingers wrapped around the arms of my chair to steady myself. July’s eyes were red rimmed, and she had missed a button on her blouse.

“What is wrong?”

“Marse took the children from me. They in the carriage headin’ way from the jail.”

I jumped up. “All the girls?”

“Monty too.”

I ran from the room barefoot. The quick movement caused my hair to come loose, but I did not stop to pin it. At the side door, Abbie was sweeping the dust away.

“Marse said for you to go to the supply shed. Left work for you there.”

“Where did he take the children?”

“Sorry, Missus. Him gone.”

I hurried across the courtyard, feeling every crack and crevice of the cobblestones strike my naked feet. The entrance gate was closing.

“Hester!” I shouted.

“Mama?” she called back, but I could not get past the two guards to follow the carriage out. One man grabbed me and restrained my arms behind my back, while the other blocked the gate with his breadth.

“Let me go.”

“Mr. Lapier ordered you to stay put,” said the one holding me, smelling faintly of tobacco.

I yanked away from him. “Do not put your filthy hands on me again.”

The guard at the door looked at me through his blond bangs and snickered. I rolled my shoulders back and spit on the ground in front of him. As I turned to march away he grumbled, “Nigger bitch.”

My face went hot as I stooped down, picked up a rock, and threw it at him, narrowly missing his head.

“You will be sorry. Both of you.”

July was standing at the door when I returned and walked me to the breakfast room. “Miss Pheby, let me clean you up.”

Abbie hobbled in. “Want some eggs and biscuits?”

“I want my children!” Before I could think it through, I had grabbed Abbie by the shoulders and was shaking her. My fingertips pressed into her flesh. She looked terrified but I could not stop myself, even when her eyes rolled back. I was angry at her for becoming this shell of herself. I wanted the old Abbie back.

“Miss Pheby.” July wrapped her arms around my waist and pried me off Abbie. “Stop this. You know Abbie suffer from a broken heart and God knows what else.”

I let go. Abbie gasped for air and dropped to the floor, her lame leg stretched out in front of her like a piece of wood.

“Come sit. Let me get you both some tea,” July offered.

I backed down into the stuffed chair, aware of the ache in my feet. Small pebbles had cut into my skin, and I drew them out one by one. The Jailer had never taken the children anywhere without me. Who would care for them and tend to their needs? Then it dawned on me.

“Did Sissy go with him?”

“Yes, Miss Pheby.” July sat a hot cup in front of me. “She won’t let nothin’ happen. Try not to worry much.”

I pushed the cup away and stood up. Abbie was still crouching on the floor in the corner rocking and murmuring Jesus.

“Where are my shoes?”

“Miss Pheby, you are soiled. Let me dress you, please.”

“Just a pair of shoes will do.”

July sighed and then placed a pair at my feet.

Perhaps I should have changed and dressed for the day, but I was in no mood to play mistress of the jail. What did that title get me anyway? Had not protected me or my children from his evil reach. My babies were all I had, and I would rather die than to let something happen to them. Hilda, the seamstress, was a snake for betraying me.

And what of Monroe? I could not stop picturing my boy on an auction block with his sisters watching. Only then would they understand the full picture of this life we lived. I willed those thoughts away, knowing that if my brain kept traveling down that path, I would lose my mind as Abbie had.