Receive Me Falling (9 page)

Esther crept behind Mary’s hut and waited for an
opportunity to sneak unnoticed into its shelter.
 
She was forced to wait before the slaves
moved off to their stations and the morning bustle subsided.
 
Before Esther could sneak into the hut an
ancient, African voice whispered behind her.

“I smell you, Esther, under all that hurt.”

Startled, Esther turned too quickly and gasped
from the pain in her rib.

“Don’t speak.”

Mary handed Esther a patched, threadbare quilt and
instructed her to cover herself as she snuck with her wounded patient into the
small, thatched dwelling.
 

Esther felt stronger as Mary eased her onto her
stomach in the soft bed of straw.
 
She
could smell the pungent aromas of the herbs that hung from Mary’s ceiling in
tight bundles—bundles scavenged and dried by expert hands.

“Is Leah gone?” asked Esther.

“She is.”

Mary crouched and shuffled her way across the hut
to a small bowl.
 
She hummed with a voice
deep and thick like molasses as she crushed the long grass, bee bush, and water
into a thick paste.
 
Her aged fingers
pressed into the paste to feel its consistency.
 
Once it felt like lagoon-bank mud and smelled sickly sweet she turned
and moved back to her patient.
 

Mary helped Esther remove her worn, filthy,
bloody, cotton dress and ran her hands over Esther’s skin.
 
Esther peered out of half-shut eyes into
Mary’s eyes—glazed-over and frosty-white like the clouds on Mount Nevis.
 
Mary’s sightless eyes, coarse white hair, and
deeply lined black skin gave her the appearance of a witch.
 
Her healing powers convinced the village
children that she was a witch, and caused some to fear her.
 
Most, though, revered and loved
Mary—especially Catherine, who spent hours at Mary’s side filling countless
journals with her healing remedies, plant sketches, and general wisdom.

Esther knew that Mary could heal her body.
 
She lay patiently as Mary’s fingers moved
like zephyr over her abrasions without disturbing them. Esther tasted the sharp
acid of the soursop on her tongue, and allowed Mary to feed her the sedative
before beginning treatment.
 

As her body relaxed, Esther could feel the warm
water dribbling into her wounds. Mary’s fingers peeled away the crusty film
from her cuts, exposing virgin skin that tingled in the light breeze that crept
into the hut through the door-flap.
 
Once
she was clean, Esther felt the sting of the paste as Mary pushed it deep into
her cuts, followed by a numbing sensation that grew like roots down to her
bones.
 
The numbness traveled through her
body, up to her eyes and head, and brought on a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

The
needle bit Catherine’s finger, startling her out of her sewing trance.
 
A tiny red bead oozed out of her fingertip,
and Catherine put her finger to her lips, tasting the sharp metallic flavor of
the blood.
 

“That’s the third time you’ve done that in an
hour.
 
Do you need a break?” asked Leah.

“No, I’m fine.
 
We have to finish these shifts for the field women.
 
I will not have female field slaves working
bare-breasted next to their male counterparts, and under the eye of Mr.
Sarponte.
 
Besides, now that I’ve
convinced Father to allow the use of this extra material for slave clothing, I
want to get it finished before he has time to change his mind.”

“It is good of you to do this.”

“It is nothing.
 
Decent clothing is the right of any human being.
 
It is scandalous the way the Ewings and Halls
allow their women to walk around half-naked.
 
It is dangerous for those poor things.
 
Men cannot be trusted around such a display of flesh. Why tempt them?”

Leah continued to sit in silence as the young
women finished the dresses.

“I wish I could throw one of these lightweight
garments on during the day,” said Catherine.
 
“Layers of corsets and petticoats are ridiculous in such a climate.
 
Could you imagine the look on Father’s face
if I appeared one morning wearing this?”

Leah smiled as Catherine held the plain, short
garment up to her figure.
 
She folded it
and added it to the enormous pile that she and Leah had already sewn.
 
The women had worked side by side sewing the
shifts for weeks.
 
Catherine had promised
Cecil that she would only take one slave from her chores to complete the
garments made from leftover bolts of fabric.
 
A tremendous amount of clothing had been completed in such a short time.

“I’ll have Joseph take these to the slave
village,” said Catherine as Leah folded the final dress.
 
Then she dropped her voice to a whisper.
 
“Meet me in the grove shortly.”

Leah nodded and packed up the sewing materials as
her young mistress exited the room.
 
She
worked slowly and paused frequently to wipe the cold sweat from her brow.
 
A sudden wave of nausea stopped Leah and sent
her into a panic.
 
Stumbling over to the
window, she was just able to heave her breakfast out of the window and wipe the
spittle from her mouth before she heard male voices entering the room.
 
She hurried back to the sewing chest to
finish as Cecil, Albert and James strode into the room.

“Ah, Leah, fetch us some tea before you’re off,”
instructed Cecil.

Leah nodded and moved from the room.
 
She nearly collided with James, and looked
into his face to mutter an apology.
 
What
was it that she saw in his eyes?
 
Was it
pity?
 
Had he seen her sickness?
 
He smiled at her and moved aside to let her
pass.
    

Catherine
stepped out of the Great House and moved over the back lawn.
 
Until she felt the cool darkness of the
lagoon trees, she did not slow her step.
 
After making her way through thick plants and vines, Catherine emerged
into a small clearing.
 
Doves cooed near
her head in the branches of the surrounding trees and a small vervet monkey ran
across her path to the other side of the clearing.
 
Catherine moved over to a small stone bench
framed in fern and bougainvillea.
 

As she waited for Leah, Catherine’s thoughts
turned to Esther.
 
It was unusual that
Esther would still be tending to Rachel and kept from her household
duties.
 
Catherine planned to visit
Esther at the slave village once she and Leah finished.
 
She also wanted to speak to Mary about the
birthing.
 
After having written copious
notes in her journal detailing each stage of the labor, Catherine wanted to
speak to Mary about several questions she had regarding the care needed for
mother and child following delivery.

The hiss of rustling bamboo announced Leah’s
arrival.
 
The slave girl
emerged—secretive and panting—from the great, straight stalks to join her
mistress.
 
She carried a basket of fruit
and kept it on her lap as she sat next to Catherine.

“I hope no one saw me run across the back lawn.”

“I am sure no one did.
 
Everyone is attending to their duties, and I
believe Father is showing the Englishmen the sugar buildings.”

Leah produced a small, worn Bible from under the
bananas.
 
Catherine opened the book and
the girls moved close together.
 
Leah
began to read aloud from Genesis, and Catherine coached her pupil through the
first chapter.
 
The girls leaned into one
another as the silent mutiny was executed.

“You’ve been practicing,” said Catherine.
 

“It has been difficult keeping it from Mami but I
have managed a bit each day.”

Leah read slowly but clearly through the first
three chapters of Genesis.
 
The thick
vegetation of the grove trembled around them under the weight of birds, small
animals, and swift breezes, and concealed the figure who was watching them.

The
lagoon began under a gushing cataract that surged into shallow pools and
bubbled up to the surface of the water where it moved noiselessly to a large
boulder.
 
At the boulder the waters
divided into four streams that drained down to meet the sea.
 
Large flowers colored like lapis lazuli
covered the shadowy banks.
 
The murmuring
plash of the waterfall, the drone of the insects, and the brief communications
of the birds were the only sounds that pierced the stillness.

After finishing with Leah, Catherine escaped from
the scorching afternoon by entering the lagoon for a bit of exploring.
 
She descended over fallen branches and
through dense floor covering to the banks of the water and began to scour the
earth for various medicinal plants.
 
On
the ink-spotted pages of her journal, she sketched the plants and their
locations before moving on for more explorations.
 
As Catherine moved closer to the waterfall,
she slipped and nearly fell into the water.
 
Upon regaining her balance she smiled and thought of the day in her
early adolescence when she and Leah had romped through the lagoon.
 
She had recited Tennyson—

“Day and night to the billow the fountain calls;

Down shower the gamboling waterfalls

From wandering over the lea;

Out of the live-green heart of the dells

They freshen the silvery-crimson shells,

And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells

High over the full-toned sea.”