The Fancy (6 page)

She nodded, took the clothing in one arm, the

hefty puppy in the other and holding onto to both, she

informed him, “Made food for you, know you be

hungry masta'.”

“Quinton! My name is Quinton – Quinton

Thaddeus Caine, say it, and say it before you rush

away.” He ordered.

She stopped, gulped, and shyly said his name,

and afterward, “Hurr'up masta' food stil hot.”

Quinton crossed his arms over his chest as if

having a royal fit and informed her, “Cal me masta'

once more, and I shal remain out here, in the barn,

with the hens, leaving you to that blasted place to do

what you damn wel , bloody please!”

Suga couldn't believe her eyes, nor her ears,

“Masta' I can't cal you that, taint right.” She pleaded

her case.

“Very wel , I suppose I should focus on doing

what I can to make myself comfortable, it appears I'l

be here a while.”

“Oh please don't do that, I can't cal you out by

yo'name, that just ain't done.”

“Very wel , as I said, here I shal be. Should

anyone come knocking for me, please direct them to

the barn and-...”

“Oh please – I try, I'ah try.”

“Say it, say my name, as I've given it.” he

demanded.

She swal owed, nervously, “How 'bout I cal you

sa', that be okay?”

“No!” He answered, waiting. She chewed on

the corner of her mouth, “Okay, I'ah cal you what you

say.” She turned away.

“Suga Caine! Get back here! I wish to hear it,

before you go, right now - I want to hear it, cal me by

my name.”

She turned slowly back, looking down at the

puppy that was licking her neck and chin, and said it

just above a whisper, “I get yo'food ready ... Quinton.”

“Say it once more - louder – no slow timing

me.”

“Qui - Quinton.” She repeated.

“Now see, that was not so hard – no lightening

striking! If you wish my attention, you wil address me

as, Quinton, which is my name. Should you cal me

masta' – I wil not hear you, I wil not respond; now

inside with you.”

She nodded and trotted off back into the

house, head spinning, she couldn't believe him.

Once more, this was a total y different kind of white

man. Inside the door, she ran to the room off the

kitchen where wood was stacked high and placed

the puppy down in there, it started whimpering right

away as she went to close the door.

“I got's t'see 'bout masta' – uh – Quinton now,

don't you start, I be back wit' some food fa'you, some

water, jus' hang on.” She told him and backed out,

closing the door. She rushed into the other room and

shook out the clothing he’d brought for her, a

chemise and gown. She smiled, relieved, anything

was better than the sheet. Dropping it from her

slender dark body, she quickly donned the clothing,

the fit wasn't too bad, she figured at least she was

covered from her neck to her bare feet.

Back in the kitchen, she took a bowl, dipped it

into the warm water she had waiting for him, and

hurried out the back door where she cleansed her

hands and arms from holding the chunky mongrel.

Turning back into the house, she grabbed a plate

and started setting a place at the table for Quinton.

Soon she heard him coming up the back steps

and then in through the kitchen door; his eyes on her

and the gown she wore.

“Ah, now – that's better, much better. It's a start.

There wil be more; you can't very wel stay in that

one al the time.” He spoke in his usual way, as if

they'd known each other forever – fil ing her in on the

way things would be. “Can you sew?”

“Yes – I can sew.” She answered.

What he was starting to notice about her was

that her smile was always slight, unsure, mindful, and

careful – wishing to do nothing that would irritate him

or make him regret that he'd brought her home. He

didn't want her to smile that way, he wanted her to

smile in a way to say, that she knew him, was sure of

him, was happy to be there, with him.

“Water right there mas – uh – sa' – erm,

Quinton.”

She corrected herself just in time. Hearing

masta' come out of her mouth, stopped him – her

correction, caused his smile and him to resume his

forward motion to the washing bowl where clean,

steaming water awaited him. Hands in, he

commented – “I expect soon that slip won't be

happening, I am Quinton, and you – you are Suga –

within these wal s, we wil address each other as

such.” It was an order; she understood that now, and

yet, not an order as most would have delivered it, no

not at al . His orders were laced with care and

kindness – as if to say – with him, things would be

different, and that was the reason she never wanted

to be given away.

“I try mas...” She stopped and dropped her

face, berating herself. He was drying his hands,

watching her with a lifted brow, and waiting. “Yes,

Quinton, I'm gone try.”

“Very wel , that is where al things begin, with

the effort.” He smiled at her; she glanced at the

setting for him at the table.

His eyes fol owed hers to the setting and then

back to her asking, “Wil you join me?”

“Got's to see to this puppy.” She answered

softly, stunned that he would ask such a thing.

Clearly she was right, the puppy was barking

and howling away behind the door of the wood store.

“Yes, I suppose so, what have you prepared for

me?” He asked, taking his seat.

“Not so sho' what to fix you; so I make you what

you need.” She answered, taking his bowl to the

cook pot, serving him up heaps of a rich green stew.

“Interesting... what I need, hm?”

“Yes sa' – you 'round sick folks al the time,

gots to keep you strong.” She set the steaming bowl

before him, and took out fresh bread she'd baked for

him.

Quinton stared into the bowl at the concoction,

unsure of it, he'd never eaten anything so green

looking, fil ed with lumps of food stuffs that were

white and dark tan, and it appeared that there was

meat as wel .

“Yes, very very interesting...” He murmured, his

eyes going from it to her, for her to encourage him,

“Gone – try it.”

“May I ask, what is in it?”

“Masta' – uh, I mean, Quinton – I'on want nothin'

t'happen to you – somethin' do, wha's gone happen

t'me? Eat.”

“Emmm,” He murmured at her reasoning.

“I's wild greens, herbs, mushrooms, turnip,

rabbit....”

“Rabbit?” He exclaimed.

“Eat.” She pressed, showing a bit more

backbone.

He exhaled, picked up his fork, pierced a

col ection of ingredients and with his mind whirling,

before he lost his nerve, popped it into his mouth. He

chewed and realized that is was substantial, as wel

some sort of leafy vegetable, as he chewed and

swal owed, he realized it wasn't that bad – in fact, it

was rather good, this mix of things – he went in for

more, so far, impressed.

“Eat
all
it.” She gently nudged and turned from

him to see to the crying puppy. Quinton paused at

her order, surprised by it he sighed, smiled and took

some of the bread, which was beautiful y baked, and

dipped it before biting into it; his taste buds were in

heaven and he began thoroughly enjoying the simple

fare. He cleaned his bowl and found that he wanted

more.

She was busy with the puppy so he helped

himself to more. Back at the table, he cal ed to her

as she was in hearing range.

“Suga, may I ask, where exactly did you get al

of these things, and the - rabbit?” He continued to

eat, feeling his taste buds come alive and tingle.

“In'na woods.” She answered, coming from the

room with the puppy on her arm, “Gonna take him

outside-...”

“Suga?! What do you mean, you got it in the

woods?!” He was sitting at ful attention; his eyes

wide and fol owing her to the door.

“Got's'ta take care you, got's'ta do my bit.”

“Suga, are you tel ing me, you left this home

dressed in a sheet, went into the woods picking –

this – this – which I find quite pleasing by the way –

however – you – alone – entered those woods for

this – and a rabbit, al that I'm eating?” He asked,

aghast at the idea.

“Had to, what I need'ta feed you, in them woods

– can't have you hungry, can't have you sick – who

gone take care o'me – I’on take care o’you?” It was

obvious the idea of her deed had left him

speechless – taking advantage of his loss for words;

she made her way out the door. Quinton charged up

from his chair, rushing to the back door, pushing it

open to watch her, she lowered the puppy so he

could relieve himself outside. Suga stood with her

back to him, “
Suga Caine
! Turn and face me, at

once
!” He demanded.

She turned slowly, looking up at him.

“You are never – ever I say – to do that again!

Dressed in a sheet at that! What if you'd been

spotted? Taken? What then?”

“I'm careful – quiet – can't see me.” She

returned low.

“A white sheet – how could someone not?!”

“I ain' need no sheet in'na woods.” She

explained simply.

“What?!” He suddenly looked as if he would

swoon, he staggered down a step, “Are you saying?

Were you – without clothing?”

“Ain’ have no cloths; don't need none in them

woods.”

“Bloody hel !” He exclaimed aghast at the idea,

“Never again! Do you hear? Not ever!”

She nodded that she heard. He turned back,

wobbling as if unsteady on his feet, his mind tossing

about al the possibilities, he’d never heard of a

woman doing such a thing, it was simply unheard of

where he’d come from. He made his way back to his

bowl of delicious green stew, as shocked as he was,

there was no doubt, the trip to the woods, had been

certainly worth it. Three bowls later, quite ful – he

went back out to see what she could possibly be

doing al of that time. He found her in the barn,

standing at the tack table, cleaning and preparing

large heaps of roots and plants that were piled in a

basket. Without thought, he reached over laying his

palm against her forehead, checking for a fever –

her temperature felt normal. His actions caused the

puppy, who sat between her feet, looking out from

beneath her gown up at him to start barking, making

him smile. He knelt and held his hand out to it,

looking into her basket of treasures.

“What have you there?”

“Stuff we gone need, when that wind get col',

get to howlin' – folks ches’ gone get ful so they can't

breathe, we don' eat this, we ain' gone be breathin'

eitha’. You gots'ta help them, I gots'ta help you, keep

you strong, so you take good care'o'me.” She went

on gently, her voice fil ed with passion and

determination to now start doing her part, now that

she was back on her feet. Quinton gave the puppy's

head another stroke, one last scratch behind the ear

and then he stood watching her work with things

she'd gathered from their woods, some he

recognized, some he did not – but she knew, he

could tel that she knew what she was doing. Funnily

enough, after having that stew, he felt renewed,

invigorated – his body seemed alert; while one

hunger was indeed sated, another was coming to

life.

“Qu-Quinton...” She hesitated to begin.

“Yes, Suga.” He answered softly.

“Am I – ‘lowed to – to ask thangs o'you?”

He smiled, “Yes, Suga, you are, and the word

He smiled, “Yes, Suga, you are, and the word

is
allowed
.”

“Is you – you a man, o'your word?” She asked.

His gaze was soft with longing upon her,

leaning against the barn door, arms and ankles

crossed; content to feast upon her gentle features

aglow from the dim light of the lantern; he answered

her after a bit, “I do my best, Suga, to be known as a

man of his word, thus, I do not give it lightly.”

She nodded, thinking about her mother's

master. He was not a gentle man when he used her

mother in his bed. He did things that made her cry,

hurt her body, hurt her soul, made her ashamed to

say what he did to her – and at times, he shared her