Douglass’ Women (7 page)

Two weeks more, two weeks more. Every day I say I’m leaving; every day, I wait one day more. No word from Freddy. I didn’t expect it but deep inside I kept a thin sliver of hope. More fool me.

New life was swimming in me like the bones were swimming in the sea. My girl—it must be a girl, I wanted a girl—be raised by the sea. She’d learn gardening, how to make preserves, and how to turn a fine seam. Mam would help me and I would help Mam in her dying days. Mam would love my baby like she loved me.

At the kitchen table, a steel bowl between my knees, I was snapping sugar peas, breaking those poor peas something terrible, snapping away ’cause today I was going to do what every day I couldn’t do. I was going to give notice. Tell Miz Baldwin Gates broke my heart. She’ll understand this, I think. Tell her Kate Malhew gladly work for her. Kate be Irish but I didn’t think Miz Baldwin would mind.

Snapping those peas, a rap came at the door.

“Come in.”

No answer.

“You’re welcome. Come on in.”

Still no answer but a
rat-a-tat-tat
again. Maybe whoever it be, be hard of hearing? I lift myself up.

“I’m coming.”

At the screen door, nobody there. I heard, “You Anna?” but didn’t see nobody. I stepped outside and, like a thief, there be a young boy, hiding, ducking his head out from under the porch.

“Anna Murray?”

“I’m Anna.”

“This yours.” He shoved an envelope into my hand, then, took off running.

Amazed, I stared after the stranger who disappeared as quick as lightning. I turned the envelope over:

Anna

My brother George taught me to recognize my name. Two A’s bracketing two N’s.
“Anna.”
But that was all I knew. I opened the envelope and there were marks all over the paper. Made no sense to me.

Then, the paper shook. I thought this be from Freddy. That’s why the secret. Why the young man ran away.

Why couldn’t Freddy send a Penny-man? Maybe there was no Penny-man to trust? Lord, have mercy. My life was caught up inside those markings and I couldn’t read a word. More like chicken scratch to me.

Preacher could read. But I couldn’t get to him ’til my chores were done. Lord, six weeks I’d waited, and the truth was in my hands and still I had to wait.

I swore I’d learn reading. I didn’t want to feel this way again.

Then, I think this letter must be bad news. Freddy know I can’t read. He could’ve gotten a message to me somehow. He had friends. Even that young colored boy could’ve said, “Freddy wants you.” Maybe Mister Bailey writes to shame me before the Preacher? It be his way of letting the world know he ain’t my man. I’ve got no claim.

Grim, I went back to snapping peas, steaming fish, and mashing potatoes with cream. Damn that Bailey. I kindly let little Thomas have two glasses of lemonade. For dessert, I served strawberries over cake. I cleared the dishes, listened quietly to Miz Baldwin’s instructions to sort through the table linens tomorrow, polish her silver. She be planning a party for Mister Baldwin’s clerks. She wanted oyster stew, roast beef with carrots, and a butter-rum cake. I say, “Yes, ma’am.” Then, bathed little Thomas
and Beth while Miz Baldwin settled the baby in the cradle.

I cleaned the kitchen, thinking I might as well wait ’til morning to see the Preacher. But I also knew the sooner I swallowed pride, the sooner I’d be over this love I carried for Mister Bailey.

When the Baldwins slept, I walked to the colored quarters, a quarter mile from town. Feeling the letter, the fine stock paper, I thought Freddy must be doing just fine. Spending my money.

At Preacher’s house, the light was still on. I felt relieved. Then, scared. Maybe Preacher called to a meeting, called away ’cause somebody dead? But Preacher answered my knock. Dressed in black, his collar open, his wife behind him in a flannel robe, Preacher look worried, “Miz Anna, you hurt?”

“Here.” I shoved the letter at him. “I need you to read this letter.”

“Sister Anna,” Preacher’s wife say, “come on in. Sit, you look ill.”

I didn’t move. “Just tell me what’s in the letter. Please, before I can’t take it.”

Preacher must’ve known I was barely living, holding myself tight. There in the hall, a light hanging low, he read my fate. First, he read silent; I could see surprise on his face. I wet my lips.

“Even if it’s bad … tell me.”

He looked at me, smiling. “It’s good.”

“Love be true.”

“Oh, Anna,” the Preacher’s wife squealed. Preacher put his hand on mine. “If you’re ready to leave, I’ll take you to the ship tomorrow.”

Big, fat tears rolled down my face. “I’ll be ready.”

“Good girl.” Preacher squeezed my hand. His wife say, “What news … what news!” By tomorrow noon, everybody in the church and colored town would know my business.

I walked away, then stopped. “Preacher, get word to my Mam. Tell her I’m safe.”

“I will.”

I walked, stepping softly on the gravel, staring at the beautiful world around me. Smelling salt in the air. I might never be in Baltimore again. Might never see my family again.

* * *

But I thought Freddy be Samson. Having faith in me. Faith that my love can make all right. He may not love me now but he will.

My heart soared. I wanted to jump and shout. I free. Free to love as best I knew how.

I’d ride the waves, crooning lullabies, telling my baby her father be a great man. The bones keep us safe ’til the ship arrive in the harbor.

Tomorrow, I’d ask Preacher, “Where’s New Bedford?”

Tomorrow, I’d put Lena in a basket, take her with me as my dowry. I’d take my torn wedding dress and mend it as the ship sailed over blue-green waves.

Walking home, walking to my last night in the Baldwin house, my last night before I sailed to my love, I sang to the baby in my belly.

“Love be true. Love frees a woman’s heart.”

But even as I sang, rejoiced at my future, I felt the pain of it too. Somehow I’d get to a Penny-man and tell him to tell Mam, “You inside me. Inside your grandbaby too.” All the way to New York, to New Bedford, I be smiling, thinking what Mam will say to that!

“I be the luckiest woman,” I shouted, hugging myself in the middle of the road, beneath milky stars. “Anna Murray Douglass, wife of Frederick Bailey Douglass.”

I couldn’t find Lena, my cat. That night of all nights, Lena didn’t come home. I thought maybe she be making more babies. Taking her chance at a new litter of kittens. But I couldn’t wait. If Preacher took me to the ship, Miz Baldwin might try to stop me. If I was going, I needed to go now. Leave like a thief, a runaway.

My heart just broke, leaving Lena. I consoled myself that she’d survive. Miz Baldwin would give her milk, I knew, if she wailed at the kitchen door. ’Sides, Lena had her own magic of caressing, curling about a leg. But she’d only do it if she felt like it. She could be sassy, independent, but when the mood was in her, every step and sound and every curve of her body said, “love me.” Somebody just had to stroke her softly and lay down food.

I figured Miz Baldwin would give me nothing if I ever came back. Even if I was starving. I was burning my bridges and nobody was going to take me in—a too-proud colored woman.

Only Mam would always love me. But even Mam’s eyes would be wet, her spirits low, ’cause I’d left without saying “good-bye.” Mam wouldn’t easily get over that. “Family be the only proud you need,” she say. And she surely wouldn’t get over why after months of waiting for Freddy, I
didn’t make him wait one week while I got my family’s blessings.

Deep down though, I’m ashamed for Mam to see my belly round. Others might not see it but she would. She’d know I’d sinned with my flesh.

“Come. We will marry.”

I packed, laid down a whole chicken for Lena, then sneaked out the door into the night. Said no good-byes to the Baldwins, didn’t even blow a kiss at the baby, I just ran like fate was snipping at my heels. I ran to the harbor, waited on the wharf ’til the sun rose. I imagined Freddy’s face in that sun. His face warming my soul, warming my body and making me forget my lonely waiting. That afternoon I boarded the ship
V-a-l-i-a-n-t
. I didn’t know what the marks meant. I only knew if Mister Baldwin tried to drag me off ship, I’d hold steady.

Preacher would make Mam understand.

I’d have Freddy write her, too. Write and send a Penny-man with the longest message of how much I loved her.

She’d understand I had to take my chance at loving. Understand I couldn’t expect Fate to give me another chance. With the baby in my womb, I had to fly to Freddy, sail away over the great waves. Sail far north without bittersweet good-byes, no exchanging of kisses or locks of hair. No words of comfort.

Forgive me, Mam. Forgive me, Lena. I gone. I slipped away. Even Jesus say, “God helps those who help themselves.”

First hour on board, I wept. Wept for Lena. For her new kittens I’d never see. Wept for my family. My loss of Mam. Mam, who taught me everything—taught me how to
sing songs, keep house, even how to be nice to a husband with
encouraging
words, tender looks, and the best yams and dumplings.

I didn’t believe the Good Lord meant for me and Mam never to meet again. I said a prayer. Then, I didn’t look back. I turned my body north, marched to the prow and watched the open sea.

“Freddy,” my heart wept. “Freddy,” my heart sang.

“Freddy,” I whispered when this officer shouted, “Nigger-gal, you got a ticket?” When a sailor stroked my arm, murmuring, “Me bed needs warming.” When everybody white looked at me as if to say, “Don’t forget your place.”

“Freddy.” I be your wife in flesh. Baby flowering in my womb, ready to know her father.

Thinking of him brought me comfort. Even when the wind blew harsh, waves crested, I stood close to the prow, my head back, watching the white sails billow and I thought Freddy saw this. Freddy was on
this
ship. I screamed into the wind, “Free. Free.”

Freddy must’ve thrilled at drawing north. White sails taking him far and far beyond again. Him not a slave no more. I felt my inside self break free, my passion rising. Spray hitting my face, dampening, pressing my gown close to my body, I felt alive. This be the life I was meant for … the life I dreamt of.

My inside free and Freddy free. Us, entwined tight together. Forever. He needed me, I thought. I needed him.

For the whole week, skies were seldom blue and clear. The ship rocked, shook, and groaned. I took the storms. When others were sick in their cabins, I just screamed my happiness into the wind. Strife now, calm later.

I dreamed of kissing every part of Freddy’s body. He
made me a woman and a mother. What a good, great man he be.

What a good, great fool I was!

In that sailing, I imagined only the wonders of his hands upon my body, his lips upon mine. Such glory. His face was in the clouds, stretched across water, his touch was the breeze caressing my face, and the sun was the warmth of his body covering mine. Even the moon, when the currents raged, glowed with his smile.

But the storms were my warning sign, and I didn’t witness it. Didn’t understand.

Even heard the Captain say, “This weather makes no sense.” Heard sailors cry for an albatross, gamblers curse, betting a hundred dollars on the wind’s direction. Gentle women whined, fanning themselves, complaining of stifling cabins, vicious, “godforsaken weather.”