“Know how to use the dolly stick?”
I nodded, a half-truth. I had seen it done before. I lifted the dolly, which resembled a milking stool attached to the bottom of a broomstick, and heaved it into the metal pot. Plunging it into the water, I twisted and turned the bedsheet, Master’s white shirts, undergarments, and towels. Within a few minutes my forearms blazed and my shoulders ached from the repetitive movement.
“All ’ight in here?” Aunt Hope stood at the back door.
“Yes,” I said despite my fatigue. Did not want Aunt Hope to think that I could not handle my share of the load.
“Bet you hungry. I snuck an egg and piece a bread.” She took the dolly from me and twisted it into the pot. Aunt Hope was stronger than me even though she was an older woman. I tore through the food while she kneaded the clothing.
“Needin’ to hurry wit’ this. Missus on a rant ’cause your mama leavin’ wit Massa and you don’t want her to find fuss wit’ you.” I took the dolly from her and beat the laundry, adding a little fury to my work. Before long I wrung out the pieces and hung them out back. As I smoothed down the last sheet on the line, Missus appeared suddenly by my side, clutching Master’s coat.
“Reinforce the buttons. Make sure they are evenly spaced and tight. Do not want him catching his death in South Carolina on account of your incompetence.”
“Yes, Missus.” I reached for the coat.
“Tell your mama that I aims to have the summer drapes for the sitting room measured and sewn before Master Jacob leaves here day after tomorrow.”
I wanted to ask why on earth she would choose to worry over summer drapes in the middle of March, but kept my eyes low and mouth shut.
“And tell her no lazing. I will get as much work out of her as possible before she goes.”
When I crashed through the door of the loom house, Mama was bent over a roll of material with a pin in her mouth.
“Slow down, gal, ’fore you hurt somethin’.”
I delivered Missus’s message and Mama just huffed air through her nostrils.
The first floor of the loom house had one long table, a bench, and two chairs. I worked on the coat, straining to keep my eyes steady but still needled my skin.
“Ouch.” I sucked on my finger.
Mama stopped the loom and took the coat from me. I slumped back in the chair, arms, legs, and shoulders burning with exhaustion.
“Gon’ have to get use to more work. I ain’t always gon’ be round to protect you. ’Specially now you in the house.” She easily threaded the needle through the buttons.
“I am just so tired, Mama.” I put my good cheek down on the table and closed my eyes.
“I knows it. But you got to get stronger, Delores, or you ain’t gon’ survive the Missus.”
I sighed deeply.
“Ain’t no white woman ever goin’ treat you well as Miss Sally, so get that out of your head and do as Missus say, ’fore she says it. Me and Master be away only a short while. Best to stay out of her wrath with us gone.”
As Mama worked on the button, I drifted to sleep. I did not know how much time had passed when she murmured my name.
“Up, Delores. Need you to pay attention.”
I opened my eyes and saw Mama clutching a small sack. She took a jar of ointment from the bag and placed it in my hand.
“Rub down Rachel’s pallet with this. Keep her spirit from haunting you in your sleep.”
She then handed me a mixture of dried leaves, small seeds, and her fingernail clippings, tucked into a scrap of lace. “Sew this into the hem of your skirt. For your pro’tection while I’s gone from here.”
I took the needle from her and followed her directions.
“ ’Member now, even in the big house you’s still Pheby Delores Brown, born on Christmas Day. You the gran-daudder of Vinnie Brown, who was the gran-daudder of a Mandara queen. You a slave in name, but never in your mind, chile.”
Her face inched closer to mine until we sat eye to eye. “You a woman born to see freedom. No matter what Missus say or do, you ain’t nobody’s property. Hear?”
“Yes, Mama.”
She yanked me to her bosom and I inhaled her sweet scent.
Mama handed me the coat. “Now get.”
* * *
On the morning that Master was due to leave, Missus Delphina threw up in her water basin. I took it out, soaped it clean, and brought it back so that she could wash her face and hands before her last breakfast with Master Jacob. She had soiled her first dress, so I helped her change into a blue dress with a fan-front bodice and close-fitted cap sleeves. I brushed her hair and twisted it into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. When I finished, she stood in front of the mirror, touching the dark circles around her eyes.
“Running this plantation has robbed me of my beauty.”
“You look nice, ma’am,” I offered.
“I look weathered.” She pinched her cheeks to make them appear rosier. “No wonder Jacob does not want to take me with him. What have I given him?”
“You are carrying his child.”
She turned on me with blazing red eyes. “How dare you? No one asked for your wretched opinion. Out!”
I fled the room as the book she flung at my head narrowly missed. Aunt Hope waited for me at the bottom of the steps.
“Just her nerves got her out of sorts.” She handed me a pair of white gloves and ushered me to help serve breakfast.
Master sat with his ledger open on the table. Missus arrived moments later, and he stood and pecked her on her cheek.
“How are you feeling today, dear?”
“Ill.”
“Dr. Wilks said it is important to get your rest.”
She sipped her tea. “I need more than rest.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
She shook her head. They ate the meal in silence.
When Master raised his finger, I cleared the table, carried the dishes back to the scullery, and washed, dried, and put them away. By the time I had swept the dining room floor and restored the table, I could hear the others from the house gathering out front for the farewell. Parrott had secured the last piece of luggage onto the carriage when I came down the path. Essex stood with the horses, talking to them, rubbing them down, but his eyes kept finding me. It had been an excruciating three days since we had been alone, and while my chest ached over Mama’s departure, I longed for his touch.
Not twenty minutes later, the wide front doors were slung open by Lovie, and Master Jacob walked through with Missus Delphina at his elbow. When they reached the edge of the porch, Missus put her head on Master’s chest. Whatever he whispered into her ear, I did not hear.
Just then, Mama walked into the courtyard, and the sight of her halted all conversation. She floated in a red calico dress with covered buttons, a loose-fitting bodice, and bishop sleeves. Her hair was rolled back and shining with palm oil. She looked better than this place—regal, even. Certainly not like someone’s property. No one would ever have guessed that the dress she was wearing had been repurposed from Miss Sally’s old petticoat, stiffened with hominy and water, with a hoopskirt made out of grapevine.
Parrott reached for Mama’s hand and helped her into the front carriage. Aunt Hope emerged from the kitchen house with a packed lunch and handed it to me to carry over to Mama. When I offered the basket up to her she rubbed my hands and squeezed my fingers.