Yellow Wife Read online

  “I have it right here.” I held it up. She turned her back to me and held out her arms so that I could fit the corset over her belly bump. Not sure why she bothered with the corset to walk the plantation. ’Less she was trying to impress old Snitch.

  None of us cared if her belly was in or out.

  “Do not have all morning, girl.”

  I tried not to touch her skin as I stretched one long lace through the corset, then fastened each end so the string pulled through the eyelet. Through the mirror, I watched her face to see where the corset fit comfortably.

  “Missus Delphina, can you take a long breath in?”

  When she did I settled the corset a pinch lower, fitting it under her waist flab.

  “Rachel would have been finished by now.”

  I fastened the front elastic and pulled sharply at the strings to make it even tighter. Missus gulped.

  “Tight enough?”

  She did not respond so I kept pulling until the corset was anchored and she looked strained in the face. The price of beauty for a white woman. Even when with child.

  “Fine.”

  I held out her basic petticoat and then helped her into her walking dress.

  “When you finish in here, Lovie will get you started on the laundry.”

  She left me in the bedroom. I went through all the chores I had performed the morning before: wiped down the four-poster bed frame, footboard, and headboard with a mixture of olive oil and vinegar until they gleamed. Tied back the curtains, made the bed, sorted her dresses, swept the ashes from the fireplace, scoured the hearth with soap and sand, then stacked in fresh wood that I would light before dinner. Afterward, Lovie led me down a short flight of steps and down a hall to the scullery, tucked away at the back end of the house. In this room, we prepped the big meals, washed dishes, and laundered the clothes. Lovie had soaked a batch of whites overnight in rainwater and ash lye.

  “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 othe
rs 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.

  “Lovie, carry the mistress inside and accompany her to her room so that she can rest.” Master Jacob let go of Missus’s hand. She held her mouth open, no doubt to protest, but then pursed her lips. When Master passed me on the step he patted me on my shoulder. “Be good, Pheby. I am counting on you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Parrott opened the carriage door and then closed it behind Master before climbing up front next to Mama. I worried about her riding up front in the open elements, but she had confessed to me that a few miles down the road, she would always enter the carriage to keep Master Jacob company.

  Parrott lifted the reins. “Step,” he said to the horses, and the carriage moved on. Mama turned to me and we locked eyes until she was too far and the dust too high for me to see her.

  Essex stood by my side. “She be back soon.”

  “Does not make me feel any better.”

  “I can.” He brushed his arm against mine. His touch charged right through me.

  “Guess we can meet in the loom house now instead of with the smelly horses.” I smiled up at him through my lashes.

  “Pheby,” Missus shouted at me. “You do not have time for foolery. Fetch my coffee.”

  “Yes, Missus. Right away.” I did not risk looking back at Essex, but I could feel his eyes on my hips as I slipped away.

  CHAPTER 4

  Evil Women Do

  The heavy April showers made May a breeding ground for mosquitoes, and the pesky bugs showed me no mercy. Mama’s balm had stopped working, and red bite marks peppered my arms and legs. It did not help that Aunt Hope had relegated me to caring for Missus’s garden. Since Master left, she had neglected her vegetation something terrible. So it became my job to prune, weed, and plant the beets, carrots, tomatoes, lettuce, and cabbage.

  The leisure time I had hoped for with Essex proved nonexistent. Missus kept me bottled up in the house at her beck and call. Between catering to her whims, gardening, fetching, serving, and doing dead Rachel’s work, I never stopped feeling weary in my bones. Essex also stayed busy mucking out the stables, watering, feeding, and exercising the horses. Then, every Saturday before the roosters crowed, he hired himself out to neighboring plantations to work with their horses. Most times, he did not make it back until late Sunday night. A few times I tried to sneak out to see him, but Missus heard me moving through the hall. One time, I had made it out of the house but then did a turnaround when I spotted the overseer, old Snitch, sitting in front of the stables drinking from his flask.

  After Master had been away for two months, a letter arrived from him informing Missus that he needed to extend his trip by an additional few weeks or so. Missus relayed the news to Aunt Hope and then crushed the letter in her palm before tossing it in the fire. Later that afternoon, I could tell the news had fermented her mood by the way she stood over me nitpicking. The windows were streaked, the floor harbored dirt, and the table felt sticky. When I went outside to tend to the laundry, she followed behind me.

  “Honestly, Ninny, a blind man could see that this sheet is covered in filth.”

  She had taken to calling me Ninny ever since Master and Mama left. The name burned me up, and I straightened my back so that my agitation would not show as I took the sheet down and carried it back to the ash water and scrubbed it again with lye. As soon as I had hung up all the laundry, Lovie brought me a basket filled with odd clothing that needed mending.

  “Make time for the sewing after you serve dinner. Missus getting so thick in the waist, you need to let out a few of her dresses.”

  I wanted to shout to Lovie that my fingers were too stiff from pounding the dolly stick to sew, but then I realized that being sent to the loom house could provide an opportunity to see Essex. I nodded and held my tongue.

  On my way to collect Missus’s evening meal from the kitchen house, I sauntered past the stables. Essex was crouched down changing a horse’s shoe, his white shirt pasted to his back with sweat. When he looked up at me, I pointed toward the loom house and tugged on my ear. He flashed all his teeth and brushed his nose twice. The secret meeting was set, and it gave me an extra spring in my step.

  During most meals, Missus only ate half of what I put on her plate. I was not sure if her appetite had waned, or if she did not want to put on too much weight. Either way, Aunt Hope saved her scraps from the day and passed them down to the field hands at the end of the night.

  “More pudding, Missus?” I held out the silver bowl, but she shook her head and stood to retire.

  Her ankles had swole so much that it became my nightly job to soak her feet in white willow bark and massage her legs until she seemed satisfied. Once I patted them dry and propped her on the bed with pillows, Lovie entered the room to brush her hair.

  I had left the mending in a basket on the porch and grabbed it up on my way to the loom house.

  Outside, the evening was damp and moisture hung in the air. I could smell the sweet scent of oncoming rain. A patch of bellflowers grew along the side of the house, and I pinched one off and tucked it behind my ear. I felt both nervous and excited over what I planned to do. Tonight, my yearning for Essex was going to outweigh Mama’s repeated caution. We had fevered for each other long enough, and I had lost the ability to contain my fire for him. No one had cherished me like Essex, and I was ready to give him my all. I climbed the ladder in the loom house, and when I saw Essex sitting in my chair, goose pimples prickled my arms.

  “Glad you came.” I tugged on his lip.

  My thirst for him burned the back of my throat, and I lifted my skirt and straddled his lap. He seemed startled by my boldness, which fueled me to press my hips into him while undoing the buttons on his shirt. Essex removed his mouth from mine and stopped my hands.

  “What is wrong?”

  “I’s something to tell you.”

  “Can it wait till after?”

  My insides were all worked up, but he lifted me off his lap by the waist. The bellflower fell from my ear, the pink petal already wilted. I had come on too strong. Maybe he thought I was unladylike. My nerves were suddenly on edge, so I reached under the seat for Mama’s needlework to focus my hands.

  “I thought you wanted me.”

  “Oh, beautiful, it ain’t you.”

  “Then what?”

  He stood, buttoning his shirt. I looked up at him, trying to read his expression, but could not.

  “I done something terrible.”

  “You are scaring me, Essex.” I inserted the knitting needle under the front loop of yarn, but the movement did not comfort me.

  He hesitated then said, “Missus Delphina. She been… forcing herself on me.”

&nbs
p; “Forcing? Forcing how?”

  “To lay down with her. Like she should wit’ her husband.”

  The room started swirling, and my head felt too heavy for my neck. The needlework slid from my lap onto the floor. “What are you saying?”

  “I ain’t want to. You gotta believe me.”

  “A white woman? Master’s wife?”

  “She made me, Pheby. Said Massa spent so much time with his nigger woman, she needed a nigger too.”

  I grabbed his arm and dug my nails into his skin. “All this time I have been saving myself for you and you laying with the missus?” I slapped him across the face so hard my palm stung.

  “You know I ain’t have no choice.”

  “Ain’t you a man?”

  Essex glared at me. “In this place, I’s a slave first.”

  I stood with my fist balled, ready to hit him again, but he pinned my arms down by my sides.

  “Calm down.”

  “How! When you stomping all over my heart!”

  “I’s so sorry. She said if I ain’t do what she said, she would tell Massa I forced her with a knife. Said he have me strung up.”

  I wriggled but he held me tighter.

  “Baby, you know I don’t want that woman. All I wants is you.”

  The betrayal made me choke on my own saliva. I broke into a fit of coughs until my lungs finally made way for air to flow. Not wanting to stand so close to Essex, I tried to push past him, but he held me in his arms. Over and over again, I banged my fist into his chest. All my life, Miss Sally had me thinking things would always go my way. Mama had me thinking I was more than a slave. But nothing was working in my favor. Not even my man was mine. Essex stood tall, taking every punch until I crumpled in my chair from exhaustion. When I settled down, he passed me his canteen of water. I drank and then held the cold metal to my forehead, trying to get my thoughts right.

  “When did this happen?”

  He sat across from me. “During her morning walks she come get me from the stables.”

  “Why are you telling me now?”

  “I cain’t be wit’ you like man and woman with that secret wearing a hole in my heart. I hated keeping it from you but I ain’t want to hurt you either.”