Queen (90 page)

    Above everything else, and what was most astonishing to her, was how very

    much she missed him. The death of Easter had taken a great burden from

    her concept of their marriage. She doubted he would ever take another

    paramour, for Easter had been a special case, and now there were no

    slaves for him to choose from, or to go to for a single night. So he was

    hers at last, in a way he had never been before. She found that she

    wanted him, she \yanted to feel the weight of him beside her in her bed

    at night, and because she no longer had a rival to whom she was being

    constantly compared, she wanted to explore the physical side of her

    marriage with a greater enthusiasm than she had ever known. She lived in

    expectation of the smell of him, the touch of him, the feel of him, and

    she wanted to give him another baby, no matter how much it hurt, to prove

    how very much she loved him. If only he would come home.

    Then the brat came into the room, and reminded her of so many things she

    would rather forget. She was the past, and soon she would be gone, like

    all the other slaves. Good riddance, thought Lizzie, who missed the

    service that the slaves provided, but was determined to show the world

    that she could manage without them. And, like Sally and so many others,

    she firmly believed that many of the ex-slaves would come running home

    soon enough, when they discovered what they had lost in return for this

    wretched freedom. When they did, they'd have to beg for a job as far as

    Lizzie was concerned. Like the brat, whom she simply 'Ignored.

    Queen put down the coffee, and stood waiting, not for thanks, for she

    knew Gabriel's trumpet would come sooner, but for instruction. Her eyes

    scanned the room, checking on necessary repairs while she waited. But

    Sally and Lizzie had forgotten their cues, and Queen had to prompt them.

    "Wonder what they want for dinner," she said to the fireplace.

548 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    Sally, who hadn't realized the purpose of Queen's attention, responded

    immediately, but not to Queen.

    "I wonder what we should have for dinner tonight," she said to Lizzie.

    Lizzie shrugged. Who knew what was in the pantry? She never went there,

    because she didn't want to have to speak to the brat. Or even see her.

    "Oh, fried chicken," she dreamed. "I'd love some fried chicken; we haven't

    had it in so long. With potatoes, and a rich, creamy gravy-"

    "She go out and catch me a chicken, I'll fry it," Queen snorted to a

    portrait on the wall.

"Be realistic, Lizzie," Sally said at the same time.

    There was a tiny silence, while they waited for another prompt. Queen left

    them in suspense for a moment.

    "I s'ppose I could make a vegetable stew," she said to the drapes.

    Lizzie sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to make do with vegetable stew

    again," she said. "Again!"

    Queen ignored the barb. They had only vegetables, and should be grateful

    for that. Occasionally, William or Isaac shot a rabbit, but even they were

    in short supply. There were too many hunters.

    "We must count our blessings," Sally said. "I'm sure it will be delicious."

    It was done, the charade had been played out one more time, and Queen

    humphed and left the room. The contrast of Queen's physical presence with

    the pretense that she was not there had unsettled Lizzie. She put down her

    tapestry and looked about her at the shabby room that once had been so

    grand. If only Jass would come. He would solve all their problems. They

    would have some kind of income again, for Jass would find a way. And he

    would get rid of Queen. There was no place for her; she could no longer

    pretend to have a special bond of attachment to the family. She was a

    nigra, and nigras, who had some value before the war, were less than

    nothing now. With Queen gone, with all the slaves gone, they would have to

    start afresh. They would hire new staff, as and when they could afford it,

    and life would never be the same as it was before, but it would be

    something, and they would be happy.

    QUEEN 549

    She walked to the window and stared out, hoping to see him walking up the

    drive.

"If only he would come home," she said softly.

Queen scraped and cut the vegetables, and put them in a pot of water to

simmer. She'd already cleaned the bedrooms, made the beds, and changed the

sheets. Tomorrow she would start on the weekly laundry, and then, if it

was a good drying day, she'd scrub the hall floor. There wasn't much more

she could do today, but there would be light for at least another hour,

so she went outside to hoe the weeds in the little vegetable garden that

she tended, but she was sick of working.

    She threw aside her hoe and walked to the slave graveyard to see her

    mammy instead. Weeds covered the grave and she bent to the task of

    clearing them, but she felt a little sick. Her time of the month was

    coming, and she prayed it would not be bad, as it sometimes was, because

    she had too much to do. Tiredness flooded through her, and she lay on the

    ground beside the grave to rest. Not to sleep-she had no time for thatbut

    just to rest for a little while. She saw a line of ants crawling through

    the weeds, going to or from their nest, and dreaded to think that perhaps

    they burrowed into the ground and crawled over her dead mammy, and that

    made her sad because she knew her mammy wasn't there anymore, but gone,

    gone, food for worms. Tears trickled from her eyes, as much for herself

    and her present desperate loneliness, as for sweet Easter.

    She had no one to talk to except Isaac and Davy, and they as field hands

    avoided her, a house nigger. Even William and Eleanor, when they were

    here, hardly acknowledged her, taught by their mammy and their gran'ma.

    She had no one to share her troubles with, no one to ease her burden, no

    one to laugh with and play with, or even to sit with in companionable

    silence, knowing that they cared about her. All she had was people to

    shout at, who pretended that they never heard her.

    It would be different when her pappy came home. Please, Mammy, make him

    come home.

"If we goin', reckon we should go," Davy said.

"Reckon we should," Isaac agreed.

550 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    Davy was surprised. They'd talked about it so much, and Davy guessed the

    truth of Isaac's reluctance to leave. He was waiting till the Massa came

    home, to see if it was all right to go, to get his permission to leave.

    Old folk were like that; they clung to the old ways.

    "Massa ain't never comin'," Isaac said. He wasn't so old, younger than

    the Massa, but it confirmed Davy's guess. "Reckon he's dead."

    They sat in the clearing of the old empty slave quarters. It was a

    starry, cloudless night, and they'd built a little fire to keep the

    mosquitoes away. They'd eaten their portions of Queen's vegetable stew,

    saved some for breakfast, and they made the decision that they would

    leave the next day. They didn't have any money, but they'd manage

    somehow. Davy had heard a story that anyone who was prepared to work in

    or near the cesspits was well paid, and he was ready to do that. Not for

    long, of course, just till they had enough cash to get them to New

    Orleans. Or Somewhere. Or anywhere.

    They sat in pleasant silence, each dreaming his separate dream and their

    bold new future. After an hour or so, Isaac spoke.

    "Best git to bed," he said. "Best be up early, if we gwine go.

    "Yeh," Davy nodded in agreement. After another long silence, they went

    to their separate beds, but Davy couldn't get to sleep for hours. They

    were going. At last, they were going. At last, he was going to be truly

    free.

    Isaac woke him at dawn. They packed their few belongings

and ate the vegetable stew left over from the previous night.

It was a lov ' ely morning, fragments of a gentle mist hovering

in the air. Isaac looked around at the slave quarters, where he

had lived all his life, and which he was not anxious to leave.

"Gwine miss this ol' place," he said.

Davy nodded, hoping he had not changed his mind.

    "Gwine say good-bye to the ol' folk," Isaac said, and walked away, in the

    direction of the slave graveyard.

Queen was also awake early, and had put the old sheets in a big tub, to

soak. She gathered three eggs from the few laying hens, enough for Miss

Lizzie and Miss Sally if she scrambled

    QUEEN 551

them and made a lot of toast. She put hickory acoms in the oven to roast,

prepared the breakfast, and served it in the dining room. No one spoke to

her. She went outside, scrubbed the sheets, rinsed them, and hung-them out

to dry, then put the other clothes in to soak. She went back into the big

house, got her dustpan and brush, and went upstairs to clean the rooms and

make the beds.

    So it was that she saw him first. Straightening the drapes, she glanced

    out of the window, and saw a tiny figure at the distant gateway. She knew

    it was him before she could see who it was.

    Her heart fluttered, and tears spurted to her eyes. He had come home.

    She went downstairs and into the sitting room. Miss Lizzie was working

    at her tapestry, and Miss Sally was trying to read a newspaper, a small

    magnifying glass to her eye.

"He's comin'," she said quietly. "The Massa's comin'."

    For a moment it was as if she had not spoken, or they had not heard her.

    But they could not ignore her now. Sally put down the paper and turned

    to stare at Queen.

    Lizzie let out a little scream of joy. She threw down her needlework, and

    ran from the room. Sally pulled herself to her feet, using her cane as

    help, and followed more slowly.

    Lizzie ran onto the veranda, and looked to the drive. She could see him

    walking up the hill to the house, and she wanted to fly into his arms and

    hold him to her and never let him go. But something in his manner stopped

    her. He looked downcast and proud and lost and found, and the empty

    sleeve hanging at his right side made her heart catch in her mouth. And

    then she saw those nigras going to talk to him, she never could remember

    their names.

    She could not, must not, go to him, not now. She could almost sense the

    defeat in him, and the need for things to be as they were , although they

    never could be. She composed herself, and straightened her hair and her

    dress, and waited for him as she would have waited for the returning

    hero.

Davy had begun to think that they would never leave the graveyard. Isaac

had spent forever saying good-bye to all his dead relatives, and Davy

thought he had seen tears in the

552 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

man's eyes. He sat under a tree, to wait until Isaac had finished whatever

conversations he was having with these folk who couldn't hear, and,

because he was tired, he drifted into a light sleep. The next thing he

knew, Isaac was prodding him with his foot.

    "Time to go," Isaac said, and Davy let out a whoop of joy. They walked

    down the hill, past the white cemetery, and toward the mansion.

    "Ain't gwine say g'bye to 'em?" Davy had asked, worried that ol' Missy

    Sally would change Isaac's mind.

    "Nope," said Isaac. "But I's leavin' by the front gate." They skirted the

    bottom of the hill on which the big house stood, and made for the drive,

    and saw the Massa coming home. Davy cursed his luck. Now they would never

    leave. Not surprisingly, Isaac walked straight to the Massa.

    "Welcome home, Massa," he said. "We's glad you's come back safe."

    "Isaac," Jass said warmly, and smiled. He looked at the younger man, but

    could not remember his name.

"Davy," Davy said. No one ever remembered his name.

    "I'm surprised you're still here," Jass said. They were free and he

    doubted they had been paid. Or perhaps Sally had managed the money better

    than he had thought.

    "Mat'a fac', Massa, we was jus' leavin'," Davy said, to forestall Isaac.

    Jass stared sadly at the empty cotton fields, and nodded his head.

    Isaac felt the need to explain. "Thing is, young Davy ain't ever been off

    the plantation. Wants to see the world."

    Jass nodded again, but did not look at them. "Well, good luck," he said,

    as if he understood. "If you change your minds, I guess I'll need a

    couple of hands here." He smiled again, ruefully. "I don't expect I'd be

    able to pay very much. But something."

    "Thank you, Massa," Isaac said. They stood'in silence for a moment, not

    knowing how to end it, not knowing how to say good-bye.