The Abyss (14 page)

Dona Clarinha
, they were calling her, using the loving diminutive of her name. It almost brought tears to her eyes to think that her father almost never called her anything else, but that she was not in his house anymore.

Yet she would accept the affection these strangers were showing her, and return it to them; and every day she would pray that her husband might see how wrong he had been to mistrust her.

Nineteen. All That Was For Her

After dinner Gabriel lit her way to the door of her room with courtesy so unassailable that it seemed like a wall. He then bowed and walked to the other end of the long corridor, where she supposed he would sleep from now on.

Bad thoughts only increased as the night advanced without sleep, and Clara lay thinking how simple it would have been for Gabriel to believe her, and not someone else, and be next to her now. The chill of the evening would not have made her shiver if they had slept in each other’s arms, as they had for almost a month.

Instead, she was alone and saw a loveless life stretching out ahead of her with a stranger for a husband, without children, and without tenderness or companionship.

The day was already dawning when she fell asleep, vowing that she would not cower before that unknown husband, that she would act as his wife and as the mistress of the house, which she was. She had no reason to feel ashamed or guilty.

So when Teté walked in with her breakfast tray, chattering and opening the windows, she found a very determined mistress sitting up in bed.

"
Sinhô
 already left for the field," Teté said. "He goes before dawn every day. He said today he wants his luncheon sent there."

Clara shrugged, thinking
, I don't care!
 She then almost faltered when she looked down at her breakfast tray, remembering how in the weeks of their marriage he had liked to feed her, peeling her fruit and giving her spoonfuls of things to taste.

I don't care,
 she thought again.
 I can feed myself.

There was a beautiful plate of fresh fruit and she attacked that first, with appetite. Then she ate the warm corn bread and jam with her coffee. "What is this jam? It's delicious"

Teté, who had sat at the end of the bed, pointed, "This one is guava and this one 
jabuticaba
. Maninha makes them very well."

"The butter is so creamy!"

"It's made here."

The girl fell sideways on the bed at her feet, propping her head on one elbow. Clara couldn't mind, as Teté was clearly not doing it out of insolence.  She saw what Gabriel had meant, it was difficult not to like Teté and her ways.

"
Sinhô
tried to plant wheat here, but it didn't take,” she was saying. “Too much rain. He says he will try again because you will miss wheat bread otherwise."

After Clara was done, Teté got up to take her tray and put it to one side.

"What would you like to do?" she asked Clara. "Where would you like to go?"

"I would like to see as much of the house and grounds as possible. Will you take me?"

Teté stood on tiptoes and gave a wide smile, "Yes!"

Half an hour later Clara was ready, having put on a cotton dress chosen by Teté, who had also gathered her hair in a low chignon.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” the girl cried, fishing in her pocket. She held up the bracelet. “It’s fixed! Do you want to wear it?”

Clara almost offered her wrist, but then she withdrew it, biting her lip. Perhaps she should wait until a few days had passed, when wearing a trinket her father had given her would be a natural thing, and not a gesture of defiance. She put the bracelet in a glass box by her bed and closed the lid.

"Show me outside first," she requested. "It's such a beautiful morning!"

The two women set out toward the chapel, where Clara prayed briefly, and Teté knelt in the back. "I always think Jesus is so beautiful," Teté said as they walked out. "Do you think he looked like that?"

Clara smiled, "I don't know. I think he must have looked very poor, because he cared nothing for riches, and yet we make statues of him in gold."

"But," Teté said, "it's because we love Him, and so we give Him the best we have."

They walked over the lawn, and it truly was a glorious morning with perfect temperature and silver blue skies.  They walked toward the huge ancient tree, twenty meters tall, that stood on the lawn as the last witness to the forest that had existed there. Primitive vines hung from its branches, and bromeliads on its trunk burst into bright pink or yellow flowers in the center.

A group of parrots flew above them, cackling loudly in a display of green and yellow.  As they walked by the banana trees at the end of the lawn, Clara could see very colorful little birds skipping and biting nervously at the fruit. Two bigger birds with huge black beaks, and yellow and red faces, looked down at her out of tiny blue eyes. Clara laughed out loud.

"They are tucans!" Teté explained, and cried. "
Tucano! Tucano!
"

 Teté showed her the stables where two carriages were kept, the one she had arrived in, which was like a phaeton,  and the other a bigger, closed vehicle. The stable keeper, a black man called Jiló, walked towards her smiling.

"Will you see your horse, 
sinhá?"
 he asked

"I have a horse?"

She followed him to a stall and there was a beautiful white filly with black eyes inside. "It's mine? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Dom Gabriel bought it for you. She is very sweet. Whenever you want to go riding, send a boy to let me know and I will have her saddled and ready."

Clara fed a carrot she found in a bucket to the filly and caressed her muzzle and mane.

"What will you call her?" Teté asked.

"I thought of sugar when I looked at her! She is white and sweet!

"Oh, I like that! Sugar!"

As they walked on, the wild garden seemed enchanted to Clara, with lush plants that sprung from the ground full of flowers she had never seen, as if she had suddenly been transported to a world of dreams. Teté pulled her by the hand to show her a tiny chameleon, which made them laugh as it grabbed a leaf with tiny hands and changed color.

“Dom Gabriel said they aren’t from here,” Teté said. “They come from Africa, like me. Well, like part of me!”

When they arrived at the library Clara stood back, thinking that it was Gabriel's private sanctum, but Teté motioned to her, "You can come in. 
Sinhô 
said you would like it. There is no one here!"

It was a beautiful room, opening out onto a view of the waterfall.  There was a massive oak desk littered with papers and a leather arm chair near a bookcase that covered the whole of one wall.

Teté leaned against the case, "
Sinhô
 said that you would like this, because you love to read."

Clara had been looking at some of the titles, thinking how much she would like to take a few books. She had not read in so long! She put her hands behind her back, as if keeping herself from the temptation to grab any.

"Why do you like reading books?" Teté asked.

"Because they have wonderful stories, and knowledge. You can learn about how people in other places and other times lived. Do you want to learn how to read?"

"Oh, I know!" Teté said. "For example, this says ─ this says ─ "

Clara laughed, "That one is in English, try this one!"

"It says Ca- can—cantata. Cantata de ...Dido!"

"That is right. Who taught you?"

"My father," Teté said. "He was white, and the foreman in a plantation, and then he fell in love with my mother, who was a slave, so they ran away together, because he didn't have the money to buy her."

Clara widened her eyes. "I didn't know!"

Teté nodded almost matter-of-factly. "Yes, and they lived in Rio like man and wife and had me, but every now and again in the newspaper there was a description of them, because that is how the owners look for escaped slaves. So they would move and move. But then my father died and because she was arranging the funeral they found my mother, and they took us back to the owner."

"What!" Clara cried. "You too?"

Teté nodded, "Yes, I hadn't known a day of servitude, but then I became a slave like
 that!" 
She snapped her fingers. "My mother died soon after, they say malaria or the ague, but I think her heart was broken..."

The girl let the words trail and Clara thought there was nothing she could say to something so horrible. But Teté's face was brightening up.

"But then I was such a bad slave, because I didn't know anything about it, that my mistress allowed me to go round with a paper so that if another person was willing to buy me, the price was written on it. And Dom Gabriel bought me in Rio, because I asked him!"

"How did you know he would be a good master?"

"Oh, because he had kind eyes..."

Clara thought of the icy eyes that had been looking through her since the day before and said nothing.

"So,” Teté went on, “I just walked to him and showed him my papers, and he smiled at me and bought me, and freed me, and gave me work that is paid."

Clara had approached the leather chair. She was almost touching the spot that still bore the imprint of Gabriel's head.

"He is a very good man," Teté said, watching her. "Even if sometimes he is 
brabo
."

Clara took her hand away. 
"Brabo?"

"
Brabo, 
like the sea when it gets all angry and mad. Then there is no talking to him, but it passes. He can't be very angry for long."

One of Clara's eyebrows went up, "No?"

She moved away from the chair and, moving to the desk, she saw something that she wanted: a pencil. There were several, and she thought he would not miss one, or a few sheets of paper. Teté rolled the sheets and bound them with a string, and she carried the paper as Clara put the pencil in the pocket of her dress.

Outside, looking at the valley and hills, Clara asked, "And the plantations?"

"Oh, I couldn't take you there
, sinhá
," Teté said. "One of the stable boys could. You have to ride there, and I can't ride. Also, I get a little bit lost! And, also, your shoes and dress are too dainty, you would get all dusty and muddy!"

"Is Gabriel's land that big, then?"

Teté put one hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the sun and with the other she motioned as if something went on and on. "Even the hills are
sinhô's
. And yours."

"Then show me where you live," Clara requested.

"Would you like to see it?" Teté asked, happily getting on her toes again.

They walked a while, greeting people on the way who stood looking at Clara and smiling, as if she were an illustrious visitor. They finally arrived at a row of low houses built around a courtyard where women bent over pots, sometimes with babies on their backs. Others were pounding corn, or washing and hanging clothes. They looked at Clara and nodded, or smiled, but did not stop what they were doing.

"Some of them are African," Teté said. "And speak very little Portuguese. Sometimes two people cannot understand each other because they are from different tribes, and sometimes they fight."

A boy, about eight years old, came over to Teté and stood next to her, his head against her arm. "This is Guelo. That's what we understand of his name, because his parents died on the way here from Angola. I am teaching him Portuguese. Guelo!"

The boy looked up. Teté asked, "How old are you?"

"Não sei,"
 the boy said.
I don't know.

"Most of his answers are like that," Teté said, shaking her head.

"He looks sad," Clara remarked tenderly, trying to control her expression so as not to show the horror she felt at his story.

"He likes to be around me, but I am at the house all the time. 
Sinhá
, you should accept him as a houseboy, I would take care of him and teach him."

"We will see," Clara smiled. "I will ask Lucia what she thinks."

"
Sinhá
, do you want to meet Pai Bernardo?"

Clara knew that the older slaves or servants were always  called
 
father or mother
─ pai
or
mãe─ 
by the younger ones as a sign of respect. The landowners would often follow suit and address them in the same way.

"Who is he?"

"He's old and he makes anything, he can make you boots! You'll need boots, especially when the summer rains begin!"

Teté led her down a path and they arrived at a wooden cottage set amidst trees. Bernardo was sitting outside on a stool, carving wood. He had appeared at the farm two years before, and Gabriel had immediately given him a house and some land where he could plant things. He was almost sixty years old, and had understood that he could not keep riding his mule between towns in the mountains anymore.

Teté approached him, clapping her hands to announce their presence.

"Pai Bernardo, this is Dona Clarinha."

The man straightened his back and looked at her with intelligent eyes. He stood up politely, took his pipe out of his mouth and nodded, "
Sinhá."