Ida had heard stories of men sneaking over to see a girl, but had been caught by the patrol. The men had been beaten and sent back to their masters. Big John never snuck over to see her. She supposed he was in big demand over at the Grover farm. He was a big strong, handsome man. His skin was a light golden brown and he was much sought after by the women. Ida would never put her self in a position to be beaten over a man. No man was worth it.
Placing Mary on her shoulder, she began to rub and pat the baby’s back. Shortly, a soft burp erupted from the baby. Ida laughed softly and kissed her daughter. She breathed in once again, the faint, sweet fragrance of her daughter. Ida’s lips nibbling at the soft curly strands on the tiny head. She lay back down and tucked Mary within her arms, and listened to her friend, Liza snoring. Liza spent the night at her cabin from time to time, enjoying the company. Ida smiled at the thought.
Liza’s presence was always reassuring and, in the winter, Ida would scoot closer to the bigger woman for warmth. Soon enough, exhaustion claimed Ida and she fell back to sleep, Mary tucked securely within her arms.
TWO
Mary lay within the shelter of a wrap as her mother picked cotton. It was warm and safe within the folds of the material. Whenever she was hungry, all she had to do was fuss a bit, and her mother would oblige her with a breast. Mary began to learn about the world around her, as she peeked through the cloth. Most of the time, she only saw her mother’s arms and plants within reach. She would soon be left with the old women, so her mother could work unencumbered. For now, she was kept close.
Mary started walking early, and was a happy baby. Ida loved her daughter and spoiled her with love. Mary loved mush and potatoes and grew fat and strong. She had taken after her father, her skin a light golden brown. Her face hinted of delicate bone from her mother, beneath the baby fat. She would one day grow into a beauty. Many thought that Big John had Indian blood in him and others believed he had a white granddaddy. No one knew for sure. Many of his children were as light as he, some lighter.
Mary also learned early on, to stay quiet when the big white man came close. She sensed her mother tense and would grow still when Clark came around. Mary would feel his eyes burning into her and it frightened her. She had seen him kick other children out of his way. He was a cruel and sadistic man. When he spoke to her mother, she could smell his fetid breath, it smelled of death.
Mary had once looked into Clark’s eyes, and it scared her, as young as she was. She never looked in his eyes again. Mary played and was happy when she was around her mother and Liza. Mary took her queues from the women, and watched with lively intelligent eyes. Mary began to imitate their actions and was a great joy to Ida. Nan came to play with the small child in the evening, showing Mary her carved doll. Dark Henry stopped to visit with his friend, young master Theo. Theodore was the youngest son of John and Victoria Anderson. He and Henry often played together among the slave quarters.
Mary began to talk when she neared her second birthday. She would babble and play around her mother while Ida made dinner at night. When the mean white man came along, she would grow quiet, becoming small and holding on to her mother’s skirt. Mary was a big helper; she helped her mother on Saturdays when it was laundry day. Mary carried dirty clothes to her mother, who was stirring the wash in a large vat of boiling soapy water. What had been dirty before was filthy after Mary dragged them to the vat. Her mother stirred the large vat with a long wooden paddle, with holes in the broad flat end.
Mary didn’t like the smell of the vat and stayed away after she gave her mother the dirty clothes. Mary ran in between the clean clothes hanging on the lines, her small hands skimming the damp fabric. The clothes smelled good after they hung out in the fresh breeze for a while. Soon tiring of that game, Mary found an errant chicken and chased it about the yard. Her gleeful shrieks floating across the yard, causing her mother to smile.
Other children played along with her and Mary loved that the most. She would squeal after them, her chubby hands grasping at their clothes. Dark Henry carried her on his back and ran at her urging. Then Theo would carry her. Her joyous laughter filled the warm afternoons. During the hot summer, many of the younger children ran naked as jaybirds. It saved their mothers from having extra clothes to wash. Little bottoms flashed in the bright sun as they ran to and fro. The adults smiled as they watched them streak across the yard, their hands itching to pinch the plump rumps.
On Sunday afternoons, the mothers would sit outside if it were nice. They would inspect their children for nits and lice, and then braid their hair to keep it back and tidy. It was a time for gossip and laughter; it was a time for ease and relaxation. Their voices blended, sounding like chickens clucking. Some of the old men
