Currents (5 page)

Wild turkeys had taken to roosting in the trees outside their cabin, and they gobbled themselves to sleep every night. Granny's chest rose and sank silently, too exhausted from the day's work to snore.

“Mama?” Bones whispered. “I named my baby doll Lovely because white folks use that word when they talk about somethin' beautiful.” She thought the word left a soft tinkling sound in the air after it left people's lips.

“Why you call me by a funny name like Bones if that's not the name I was born with?” she asked into the darkness.

“Lawd child, why you always set to thinkin' at night when my head is so tired?”

“Why, Mama?” she demanded.

“Old Mistress Polly call you that when she first see you. You was long—skinny legs and arms like a spider. She say you not a nice, fat little baby like her babies. You just all bones. ‘That's what we'll call her,' she say, ‘Bones,'” Mama explained. “She has the say about names. Used to be a slave named Melissa here for a time. She had a nice little baby boy, and she named him Henry. Old Mistress Polly come to see him soon after he was born, and she laughed and said, ‘That little colored baby isn't Henry!' She say his name is going to be Shoofly. Can you imagine that? Old Mistress heard Melissa call her baby Henry once after that, and she slapped her face. Poor little baby was Shoofly after that. You learn quick not to argue with Old Mistress. They sell Shoofly the year after they sold his mama.

“That's why you been Bones ever since. It don't matter what anyone calls you. They just words that disappear in the air soon as they said. They have nothin' to do with who you are. Your mama knows just who you are,” she said. A soft smile spread across her face. “Don't ever go against Old Mistress wishes again, Bones.”

“I don't like that Old Mistress Polly,” Bones whispered.

“I know,” Mama whispered back. “But is a dangerous thing not to like her. So don't never say that again.”

They had almost drifted off when there was a shuffling noise outside the cabin.

“Mama? You hear that?” Bones asked, sitting up.

“Hush, child. That nothin',” Mama answered. “Lie back down.”

But Bones slipped off the bed, sure that she heard Franklin's cabin door creak open.

“Maybe they has to go relieve themselves,” Mama whispered.

“I hear voices, Mama. I hear a man's voice.” Bones cocked her head and pressed her ear tight to the wall. The only people who lived in that cabin were Franklin, his three little sisters, his mama, Becky, and his granny. No man lived there since they had sold his pappy.

Clutching Lovely in her hand, Bones opened the door just a crack.

“Get back here, you hear me?” her mother snapped. “You gonna rile up the dogs.”

She leaped out of bed and went over to kneel next to Bones in the darkness.

“It's Will,” Mama whispered, clearly exasperated. “Franklin's pappy. Becky's husband.”

“What? But he been sold a few years back.” Bones blinked in the darkness.

“I know. He sold couple miles down the river to Colonel Sam Smith, the same Colonel Smith who used to own Queenie. But he sneaks back about every month on a Sunday. They got that day off, just like us. He sneaks up the river to see Becky and their young ones. He waits in the woods. If he hears Franklin playin' the banjo, that means it's safe for him to come that night. If Franklin don't play the banjo, it means it's too dangerous, and he don't come—he go on back to the Smiths'. He be leavin' early in the mornin' afore the turkeys and the roosters wake up.”

“What about the dogs? Why don't they bark?” Bones asked.

“He brings two slabs of meat wrapped up in stinkweed that he picks from the riverbank. That way the dogs can't smell it till he gets close. When he unwraps it, they done rather have that meat than chase after Will. And when he leaves in the morning, he unwraps the second piece and the same thing.” Mama laughed a little. “If them dogs ever run into Will, Masta be wonderin' why they run up and kiss and love on him like he they long-lost friend. Ha!”

Bones was too astonished to speak.

“You must never ever tell nobody, Bones. They kill Will if they find him. You understand?” There was no mistaking the seriousness in Mama's voice.

Bones thought of the whip and the salt and vinegar and said, “I understand, Mama.”

Mama smiled through the darkness. “Can always tell when he come, 'cause he brings her flowers that he picks along the way. Next day, Becky's got them in her water cup.”

“Did my pappy ever bring you flowers, Mama?”

The smile slid off Mama's face. “Sometimes. Been so long now I can hardly remember. They sold your pappy so far away he can't bring me nothin' now. Don't have any idea where in God's old world he be. Don't even know if he's still alive.”

“I'm fixin' to find him for you when I'm a little older, Mama,” Bones confided.

“Don't talk so foolish!” her mother scowled. “That kind of talk will get you in a heap of trouble.”

“Well, then, you hafta wait to see him in heaven, Mama,” Bones said.

“Maybe so, child, maybe so.” They went back to bed.

Bones crept out just before dawn to peek at the cabin next door and secretly watch until Will snuck out into the dim light. Hidden against the back of the cabin, Becky wrapped her arms around him and kissed his face and his neck and his chest. Franklin slipped his long, lanky arms around his father's waist and buried his head in his thick shoulder while his three little sisters clung on Will like newborn puppies. Bones had never witnessed such a complete family wrapped in so much tenderness.

Finally, Will pulled away, unwrapped the meat, and tossed it at the waiting dogs before disappearing into the still dark woods.

“My Will says the Northern states gonna fight for sure if the Southern states don't set us Negras free,” Becky said the next day. Will had become the slaves' lifeline to the outside world. He was a house slave at the Smiths' plantation, serving in their dining room, which made him privy to dinner conversations. The Smiths entertained a great deal, and talk of trouble with the North was the topic of every dinner conversation with visitors lately. Bones now knew that Will relayed bits of information to his wife whenever he visited her, and she in turn passed it on to the rest of Master Brewster's slaves.

Becky spoke under her breath as she and Mama pulled their hoes up a long garden row. She whispered so Bones, helping in the fields today, wouldn't hear.

“It's all right, Bones saw Will comin' and goin' last night,” Mama said.

Becky stopped short and looked fearfully from Bones to Mama.

“Don't worry, Becky,” Mama said. “She knows not to tell. She won't tell no one at all. Will you, Bones?”

“I swear.” Bones nodded vigorously. “Don't want nothin' to happen to Franklin's pappy like what happened to mine.”

But Becky still looked nervous. “You ever say anything, Bones, I swear—”

“I won't!” Bones promised. “I promise! I never say nothin'. Ever.”

Becky nodded, but she still glared at Bones as if she would thrash her if she ever broke her promise.

She turned back to Mama and finished her story in a low voice. “Will says settin' slaves free is all folks who come visitin' from the North talk about.”

Mama made a face. “No white man I ever know gonna fight for no Negras. Humph.”

Bones was silent, but she was taking in every word.

“It's true, Grace. He says it's true,” Becky insisted. “They gonna set us free. Only reason we don't hear talk abouts it around here is cause that old Wolf Woman makes sure none of us around when they talkin' about anything. When they serve meals here, they have to scamper right out of the dinin' room. No waitin' around where we might hear somethin' said.

“My Will, he stands around the dinin' table at the Smiths'. He hears all the white folks' dinner talkin'. He says that's all the white folks care about these days. The North stirrin' up talk of a war if the South don't set us Negras free.”

“What does that mean? Free. I ain't never been free,” Mama hissed. “Don't know what that look like.”

“Well, I guess I don't know either. But we's learned a lotta hard things in our life, Grace.” She smiled slyly. “So I guess we could learn how to be free.”

A
low rumble of thunder rolled down the river. The air smelled of coming rain.

“Move along,” Ben shouted as the last of the slaves dragged themselves up the dusty path from the fields to their cabins. Granny and Mama walked side by side, their hoes slung over their shoulders, their faces seamed with dirt from the fields. Bones lagged behind, swinging the wooden water bucket, still half full so they would have water that night.

House slaves in black jackets were taking in the glass lanterns from the porch tables so they wouldn't blow over if the wind kicked up. Off to the side of the house, a washerwoman took down the last of the dry sheets from the lines, snapping each one in the air before folding it into her basket.

Mama spied Old Mistress Polly first, and her eyes narrowed. Old Mistress was hurrying down the tree-lined path toward the big house with Queenie by her side, issuing orders while waving her hands in the air. They were coming from the direction of the smokehouse, where several months' worth of salted pork, beef cuts, and ham hung from the ceiling beams. Bones figured she must have been giving the cook instructions about the coming week's meals. It was the first time Mama had seen Old Mistress since she had ordered Ben to beat Bones. The hair stood up on Bones's neck.
Please Mama
, she thought.
Just keep moving and don't look at her, or it'll be nothin' but trouble
.

All the slaves knew better than to look Old Mistress in the eye. Heads bent, they stared down at the ground and straggled along in silence. Bones peeked at her out of the corner of her eye, but then quickly stared down at the ground in front of her. Just ahead she saw Mama's head turn toward Old Mistress.
Don't look, Mama.
Bones wanted to scream.
Don't look at her!

“And a nice ham for Sunday dinner. Do you have all that?” Old Mistress asked.

“Yes'm,” Queenie replied, wagging her head.

Old Mistress seemed to notice the slow-moving group for the first time. She stopped short when she recognized Mama, and her wolf-gray eyes suddenly focused carefully on the other woman's face. Mama, expressionless, bent her head back down and stared straight at the ground. Bones could feel her heart beating through her shirt. Wolf Woman was intent on trying to read if there was any sign of danger lurking in Mama's face, and she leaned forward a bit too carelessly. The toe of her leather-buttoned boot turned under and caught the hoop of her skirt. She did a little hop to try to save herself, to no avail. Her arms swooped about like a bird. She fell forward, caught herself, rocked backward, and spun around once before she finally fell. Her petticoats flew up over her head, and she landed on her elbows.

“Oh missus, oh my Lawd!” Queenie bent down and tried to scoop her up. Ben rushed over and helped. But even before she righted herself, Old Mistress's head spun around and caught Mama's eye as the slightest smile quickly vanished—undetected—from the slave's lips.

Ben and Queenie made a mighty fuss over their mistress, brushing her off and escorting her back into the house. But Old Mistress didn't say a word, and never took her eyes off Mama, following her with a squinty gaze until Mama disappeared into the slave quarters.

Once inside their cabin, Bones, still shaking, threw herself against the cabin door while Granny turned to Mama. She wagged her head and hissed, “Lucky she didn't sees you grinnin', or you'd be sleepin' in the boneyard tonight!”