“I’ll have Netta come by and I’ll see to the casket.” Tall Tom said and disappeared. Mary shook her head numbly and she and Henry left the room as well. There was nothing she could do for John Anderson now. She was weary and heart sore. Victory had been like a mother. She would grieve for the woman.
On a humid and hot afternoon, they laid Victoria Anderson to rest, by the graves of her children. The whole of the farm population attended, this time, real tears filled their eyes. Mary and John were the hardest hit and found solace in each other. As the days blended into another, it was rare that John let Mary out of his sight, he would sit weeping and talking about his children and beloved wife. He had become more frail and needy.
Tall Tom had taken over running the farm, he and Dark Henry ensured all went smooth and everyone was safe. It was a difficult time and made harder by the sorrow that enveloped the house. Ida seemed immune to the sadness and brought light where there was none. John sat on the porch and held the child, he seemed to be waiting for something.
The waiting came to an end, in late September, Mary’s water broke while she sat on the porch with her master. Startled, John jumped up, holding Ida in his arms. He looked wildly about for help and found none. Mary’s voice calmed him down.
“It’s only my water John, don’t worry, the baby won’t be here for hours. I’ll go down to my cabin and have the women help me with this. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“No, I want you to have the baby here, in your mistress’ room. I’ll send for the women. I want you to stay in this house. Your husband can stay with you, if you need.” John said, fear lacing his voice. Mary stared at her master and she was flabbergasted that he would want to have her give birth in his wife’s room. She couldn’t fathom it; John had become almost enfeebled and depended on her a great deal.
“Alright John, I’ll go on up.” Mary said, reaching for the toddler. John pulled away, keeping Ida in his arms, almost squeezing her to keep her with him.
“I’ll hold on to Ida until she needs one of the women. You go ahead and go rest; I’ll send someone up to you and I’ll let your husband know your ready.” John said, his face flushed. Mary looked at the old man, she had no words and nodded her head.
Mary made her way up to her mistress’ room, unsure of what just happened. She wondered if John was losing his mind? He was holding onto her daughter as though Ida was a lifeline. Since loosing his wife and son, John had become almost childlike with Mary. He acted as thought the sun and moon shone only for her. It was as though they had changed positions, she was now mistress of the house and he, her servant. It just didn’t make sense any more, and it broke her heart to see John so broken.
She still hadn’t gotten over the loss of her mistress and she knew that John was just as devastated. She pulled back the bedcovers, and took off her gown, keeping only her shift on. She then went to the linen closet and began to pull old sheets and quilts out. She found old rags and gathered those as well. Liza and Nan came into the room sometime later. The told her Patina was busy with her son and Ida along with several other children. Nan went to retrieve a small caldron of hot water while Liza prepared the bed. She lay many layers of clean rags beneath Mary.
“Massa John is totin’ that child of yours, like she be his salvation.” Liza said conversationally as she crushed herbs into the wash basin.
“Liza, it’s a shame, John is so melancholy, that Ida seems to be the only one who brings him joy. He won’t let me out of his sight. He keeps cryin’ for the mistress at night and carrying Ida during the day.” Mary said as she shifted her body, trying to find a comfortable position. Nothing seemed to help.
“He’s a sad old man. Life is catchin’ up to him.” Liza grunted. She had also brought a kettle of hot tea. She poured Mary a cup and one for herself. Nan sat on the settee and looked out the window.
“He just sits and holding Ida and Drake, talking to them and to himself. Ida is such a joy, a happy child. John just seems to grow older by the day. Like life is leaching out of him.” Mary grunted with pain and stopped talking. She wished one of John’s sons would come home. She didn’t know what they would do should John drop dead. They could all be taken by neighboring farms or sold off and separated. Her heart skipped a beat at that thought and she choked down the fear.
“I’m gonna send a letter out to Theo. I’ll urge him to come home.” Mary said, once the pain had passed.
“You think that boy would get a letter?” Liza asked, surprise raising her nearly invisible brows.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to try.” Mary said and sipped at the tea. It felt good going down and she was starting to feel the soothing effects of it. The farm was running well, but with all the fighting, Mary was afraid that the growing gangs of deserters would come and devastate the farm and its population. John was no longer an imposing presence.
Patina popped her head in, grinning, she had Ida. She rolled her eyes, “I sent massa John ta his bed. He needed
