you’re done here?”
“Yes. Your father may be up North, like you said. There has to be a way to find him. And, Morri, when I’ve found him, if he’s still a slave somewhere, I will see him to freedom. Then, if you’ve decided to stay here, we’ll both come back for you. I promise you that. I only ask that if you receive any news of him you write to me. I’ll leave you my address. And there is one other thing I would ask — though I have no right to do so.”
“What?”
That’s when he asked if he might kiss me. I’d never gotten a kiss on my cheek from a white man before. It felt dangerous, but delicate too — like something that children did when no one was looking.
Saturday morning, things started going wrong right away. Weaver came in to wake me at dawn. He said that Backbend, Lucy, and Hopper-Anne had changed their minds about joining us. They said my getting whipped and then going feverish was a sign that it was the wrong time. Sweet-Pea and Saul were also near to quitting. To keep Edward from sending folks to the Sugar House, they were talking about letting something slip to Mr. Johnson before things went too far.
If I didn’t get up and talk to them all, Weaver said, then we were maybe going to have to give up on everything. But when I stood up, the world started twirling and I nearly fell over. So I told Weaver I’d meet him at the noonday break and talk to Backbend, Saul, and Sweet-Pea. It was a risk, because Mr. Johnson would wonder why I’d gone into the fields, but it couldn’t be helped.
I had Lily make me some strong chamomile tea, but that didn’t help much with the aches all over my body. Around about eleven o’clock, Master Edward came home and was hopping with fury when he saw me still there. He came into my room and threw off my blanket, saying that I was to be dressed and out of River Bend in a half hour or he’d have me whipped again. On his way out, he spit on the floor and told me he’d never met a nigger girl as stubborn as me.
I couldn’t understand why he was being more mud-minded than usual till later. Then I realized that he liked his revenge served up before the main course.
Lily ran off to fetch John again. I hoped he’d ask Master Edward to go easy on me. I was feeling as if my life was turning around this day. If I left with John now, I’d be stuck forever at River Bend. Likely no one else would escape either, because if Weaver was thinking about failure, then things were coming apart good.
When John stepped into my room, I asked Lily to leave us again, then told him to close the door. Praying to Mantis that I was doing the right thing, I whispered to him about us escaping. And I said that he had to make certain that I didn’t leave River Bend today because I had a good deal of convincing to do.
Telling a white man all this was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I expected him to turn me in to Master Edward. I even said that I’d understand, him being of the same race and all, but that for the sake of my papa’s memory I surely hoped he wouldn’t.
“Morri,” he said with a powerful sigh, “if I haven’t told anyone about the mad honey your father gave to Big and Little Master Henry, then why would I say anything about you escaping?”
My heart almost popped out of my chest when he said that. I made him tell me again, since I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. He explained then how he’d figured things out. I was quick to say that Papa hadn’t done the killing. “He told me about the curing honey, sure enough — in case I ever needed to use it to defend myself. But he also promised me that he didn’t do it.”
John said he’d guessed that too. He had his money on Mistress Holly for the first murder and Mistress Anne for the second.
“So you’ll make sure I stay at River Bend?” I said.
“I’ll talk to Edward and invent some reason. Now, what weapons do you have?”
I explained about the muskets, pistols, and swords.
“You know how to use them?”
“Weaver does. He trained some of the men. He showed me too.”
“And powder?”
“Plenty,” I assured him.
“Where are you storing everything?”
“Under the piazza. Except for one pistol with me here.”
“Here? Where?”
“Under the bed.”
“That’s insane! If they find it here, you’ll be hanged. Give it to me.”
I just looked at him. He held out his hand. “Give it to me. I’ll say it’s mine. Don’t worry, I shall leave it in my room, under the bed. You can collect it there before your escape.”
I still wasn’t sure. He wriggled his fingers. “It is much safer with me. I’ll not betray you. Everything of value I’ve ever done in my life has led me to you. I swear upon your father’s memory. Now give me the gun!”
I crawled under the bed and handed it up to him. In that gesture, I knew I was placing my life in his hands. And I didn’t like it.
Watching him squeeze that gun in his hand, I knew I’d also have to give him the letter from my father. It was his, after all. So after he’d left my room, I slipped out of the house and made my way to its hiding place in Porter’s Woods. Digging there with my hands, I started crying. Digging things up is a bit too close to remembering, I guess. I didn’t give it to him right away because I knew that afterward we’d always be linked by whatever my papa asked of him. I wasn’t sure that was such a good thing and only got the courage to do it that evening. After he’d read it, he couldn’t speak. He sat with his head in his hands. When he handed it to me, I read it over. I ought to have been pleased that Papa trusted him so much, but the way my father wrote made me go all cold. Because I knew now that he wasn’t up North. I’d never see him again. I was an orphan. And I didn’t want any other father, even one my papa had picked for me.
We sat next to each other and he touched his long white feather to both our brows. Then he put his arm around my shoulder. I felt a quiet power in him that I’d only felt before in my father. I could almost hear his belly drumming. But all that did was make me more unhappy, because he wasn’t him.
LIII
My dearest John,
We saw you from afar and we are dying of hunger.
If you are reading this letter, then you have come to River Bend at long last. But I can no longer greet you in person. For that I am very, very sorry. How good it would be to walk hand in hand with you down by Christmas Creek. I stumble along like an old Bushman now, with a wee limp, so you would have to wait for me to catch up to you from time to time. But I do not believe you would much mind. It would even do you some good to go slower than you usually do!
Try not to be sad that we shall not meet. What is left of me is still in you. And what was joined so long ago in Porto cannot ever truly be separated. You know that or you would not be here. Thank you for coming.
The lass who has handed you this letter is my daughter, Morri. We call her that, but her true name is Memoria. She is what I have made of my past. And she, too, carries what remains of me. I know you will be as kind to her as you would be to me. We look alike, do we not?
I have done what I can to push the evil that lives at River Bend as far away as I can. As Benjamin might say, I have tried to restore some of the silver that lingers inside this village of darkness. I can see now the nature of this evil, though it eluded me for years. It is a forgetfulness of all the stories of the world. But we remember the Bushmen stories, you and I, and we shall triumph in the end.
Remember how the Olive Tree Sisters would tell us to surround ourselves with beautiful things? You will see how I’ve tried to follow their advice with the gardens I have planted, particularly if you are fortunate enough to walk through them after a rainstorm. The rain here reminds me of where I was born, and that has been a good thing. Though I should have wished to walk for many miles and hunt.
