The Slave Master's Son (20 page)

“Mr. Stewart, your housekeeper was arrested four days ago for miscegenation and fornication.” John looked at the officers. He warned himself to carefully choose his words.

“Where is she?” John asked, his tone stern and defiant.

“She’s in jail awaiting trial,” the officer said stifling a smile.

“Where’s my son?” John screamed.

“He’s a little ways away at the colored orphanage. Don’t worry. He’s safe,” the officer assured.

“Do you know who I am?” John asked calmly. The two police officers stood back and looked John up and down slowly.

“No. Should we?” one answered sarcastically.

“My name again is John Stewart. I’m an attorney. I’m a war veteran. I’m from Richmond, Virginia, and you’re messing with the wrong person,” John warned.

“Are you threatening a police officer, Mr. Stewart?” one of the police officers asked as he moved closer to John. John smiled pleasantly.

“No, I’d never do that, gentlemen. I’m simply letting you know that this was a mistake on your part, and it does not bode well for you. I hope you have job security,” John added.

“What you’re doing is against the law! You should be thanking us for not arresting you right now!” one of the officers said as he tightened his grip on his billy club.

“Thankful? Thankful that my tax money is paying your salary so you can arrest my wife in her home and drag her around in her bedroom forcing our son to watch before casting him away in some strange place for abandoned children? I should be thankful? Really? Are you certain of that?” John yelled.

“The mulatto infant’s fine, Mr. Stewart.” The police officer said as he took out a couple of papers. “Look, don’t get mad at us.” The officer looked at the top of the paper. “It was reported, so we had to make the arrest. Normally…,” the police officer looked around before continuing, “normally, we just turn a blind eye to this sort of thing. If you want a little horizontal refreshment with a colored gal, that’s your business. We leave you alone, especially a man in your position, but once we get a report, we have to follow up. A Mrs. Gayle Stewart said…”

“Gayle Stewart?” John shouted. “You received correspondence from Gayle Stewart?” John shrieked.

“Yes, it says so right here. What is she – your sister or mother?” The officer questioned.

“I need to bail Hannah out. Where is she so I can start the process?” John asked semi-calmly. The two police officers led John to the precinct building where he filled out a slew of paperwork. One of the police officers sat back and stared intensely at John. John looked up and made eye contact. The officer crossed his barrel shaped arms over his protruding stomach and chewed his bottom lip.

“What is it?” John asked as he flipped the next paper over.

“You can skip that step if you hand me some shin plasters. At this rate, it could take four or five days for her to be released. You can skip the trial and everything right now,” he said as he whispered to John.

“I could lose my license to practice law by doing that. No thank you,” John stiffly said, annoyed. The police officer shrugged and walked away. Hours passed. John waited impatiently, only getting up to relieve himself. As the evening drew closer and the stars came out to play, he looked downward at the floor. Suddenly he heard footsteps running towards him.

“John!” Hannah screamed. John looked up, catching her gaze like a falling star. He raced towards her, lifting her up and swinging her around. Her eyes were swollen and red. He could feel through her clothing she’d lost weight. He ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her firmly.

“Are you OK?” John asked as he stepped back and looked at her closely. “Did they hurt you?” Hannah shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“No. I tried to stop them from taking the baby out of my arms, but they did it anyway and drug me to jail. Nobody hurt me, though. Where’s the baby?” Hannah looked around anxiously, quickly letting go of John.

“Hannah, they told me he’s at the orphanage. We can…”

“I want my son now!” Hannah exclaimed at the top of her lungs. John nodded and fastidiously escorted his wife out of the precinct. On the way, Hannah was visibly shaken. Her whole body vibrated. Her hair was disheveled and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. John drove through the back roads, trying desperately to keep Hannah calm. The trees held on desperately to their few leaves. Some were still green, others were dying but beautifully so, brandishing colors of gold, ruby, and emerald hues with touches of shimmering bronze. Hannah looked out, daydreaming and wringing her hands. Her stomach growled, but she did not take any notice.

“Here it is,” he said two hours later. They both stepped out of the wagon. Hannah walked briskly towards the large, gray building. Her weakened state did not stop her urgent movements. John chased behind her as she ascended the huge, numerous concrete steps. Hannah reached the front door and tugged on it. She quickly turned around towards John and yelled, “It’s locked.” John was soon at her side. He put his hands around his eyes and pressed his face up to the cloudy glass, looking inside. He saw a long hallway with lanterns, several large bookcases, and a bin that appeared to be filled with toys. He began to pound on the door. This went on for over two minutes but felt like an eternity to Hannah. A large, robust Black woman teetered towards the door. She wore all black with a thick cross around her neck. She looked at John and Hannah without opening the door.

“We’re closed. You will need to come back tomorrow” she said suspiciously.

“Our son is in there,” informed John. “I’m an attorney. My wife was unfairly arrested, and he was sent here!” he screamed more loudly to ensure she heard him through the glass. The woman looked apprehensively at both of them again, then dug into her pocket and pulled out a large ring of keys. She opened the door slowly, not taking her eyes off them.

“Please, come inside.” She stepped away, allowing Hannah and John to pass her.

“My name’s Mattie. I manage the evening shift here at the colored orphanage.”

“My name’s John Stewart, and this is my wife, Hannah,” he said as he extended his hand to Mattie. She declined. She looked at Hannah intensely before turning away and leading the couple into a small office. “Please, have a seat,” she said mildly. Mattie pulled out several files.

“What’s your son’s name?” she asked as she slid on a pair of reading glasses.

“Jonathan Abraham Stewart.”

“I assume he’s mulatto?”

“Yes,” Hannah said anxiously. Mattie silently flipped through various papers.

“Here he is,” she said quietly. She read over the paper and then looked up hesitantly at Hannah. Hannah folded her hands in her lap and tapped her foot impatiently. Mattie looked back down and continued to read the information. The only sound heard was the tick-tocking of a grandfather clock.

“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked, standing up abruptly.

“Mrs. Stewart – Mr. Stewart, it appears that your son has already been placed for adoption. A couple came here two days ago and wanted him. I didn’t handle the case, but according to this paperwork, he’s already in the process of being legally adopted. He’s with the new family now. At this point, it’s out of our hands,” Mattie explained.

“What! This is impossible!” John yelled. “Give me the people’s names and address.”

“Mr. Stewart, I can’t do that,” Mattie responded. Hannah glared at Mattie.

“How can you give our baby away? He wasn’t an orphan. You were supposed to keep him temporarily. A couple strangers walk into your orphanage, and you just hand him over! He’s mine!” Hannah screamed and lunged towards Mattie attempting to get the papers out of her hands. John quickly took his wife by the waist, holding her close to him as she convulsed and screamed, her body still lurching towards Mattie violently. Hannah suddenly turned towards John like a writhing snake.

“Why did you bring me here?” Hannah looked at John, a deep anger seeping into her eyes he’d never seen before. Hannah pushed John’s hands off her as she ran towards the front door, leaving Mattie and John standing there silently.

“Mr. Stewart, I’m very sorry about this misunderstanding. We were told that the child had been abandoned and that the parents couldn’t be located.”

“With all due respect, that’s horse shit. I was away on business in Richmond. My partner at the firm knew this, and no one contacted him. My wife was incarcerated due to her affiliation with me. She was drug out of our home and our son taken here until I returned. What’s happened here is beyond a miscarriage of justice. I’m going to find out who has our son and get him back, and this orphanage is in jeopardy as a result of its poor practices. It’s law that the child be here for at least thirty days before being eligible for adoption. He was here two days and taken away. Now my wife, after spending days in a jail cell, is told that her son is gone, and we’re not privy to his whereabouts. Are you a mother, Mattie?” John asked.

“Mr. Stewart, we’re a charity organization. In cases like yours, typically the child never ends up with us. They’re placed with a family member so that we’re never contacted in the first place. We were told that the child had no parents that could be located,” Mattie stated as she pursed her lips.

“You repeating that gibberish isn’t going to make it so. Answer my question. Are you a mother?”

“Well, not biologically, but I consider myself to be a mother to the children here,” Mattie responded.

“It’s not the same, but for the sake of argument, let’s say one of your most favorite children was stolen from the orphanage. You’d bonded with that little girl or boy, so much so that your relationship was truly maternal. How do you think you’d feel knowing you’d never see them again and never had the opportunity to say goodbye?”

“Well, I’d think…”

“The ink isn’t even dry from my wife being a free woman. She was born into slavery and has been a slave her entire life. She’s seen atrocities you’d know nothing about. She finally has the opportunity for freedom and a new start. I bring her here because of opportunities and a more lenient climate regarding our relationship. Instead of being treated civilly, she’s arrested and now her child taken away from her indefinitely. He’s a newborn for God’s sake! He’s still nursing. She’s all he knows!” John grabbed his hat and stormed out of the building. He looked around in the darkness to find Hannah leaned up against the back of the wagon sobbing uncontrollably.

“Hannah!” he grabbed her shoulders. “We’re going to get him back! You have to trust me,” John pleaded.

“I asked you not to leave me, John. I asked you not to leave!” Hannah said in a low voice.

“Hannah, I left to get a legal divorce from Gayle, OK? The divorce is being processed with or without her cooperation now, but I had no idea that she’d…”

“She did this? Gayle did this?” Hannah turned away disgusted.

“I believe she may have contacted the orphanage or had someone do it on her behalf in order to make them believe the child – our child – had been abandoned. Yes, she’s also responsible for your arrest. I told you people like you and I wouldn’t be given warm receptions, but as long as we kept to ourselves, we’d be fine. She intervened and set the wheels in motion. I’m going to take you home. I want you to get some rest.”

“I can’t sleep knowing my baby is gone,” Hannah said angrily.

“Regardless, I want you to try. I’m going to get Jonathan back, Hannah.” John helped Hannah into the wagon and drove home. Her iciness made the cool air feel like a summer breeze.

* * *

The overpowering smell of cleansers created an uneasy, sterile environment in the house. Two weeks had passed and Jonathan had still not been located. Hannah dipped her hands into the warm water, removed the cloth, and continued to scrub the baseboards of her home. She hummed to herself as she went over the same section at least twenty times. Her hair was pulled back and adorned with ivory barrettes. Spiral ringlets hung sweetly from the sides of her face. A placid, eerie smile settled on her face. John spent all his time researching leads regarding the whereabouts of their son. Discussing the matter with Hannah at this point only led to fighting, but he still tried in earnest.

“Hannah,” John said as he came home from placing fliers around town. “I have some new leads. He may be in New Jersey, so I’m going to travel there this evening. You’re welcome to come,” John said exhaustedly.

“Like last time, John? So I can get there and find out it’s the wrong boy or maybe like the time before that when there was no child at all.” She looked back at the bucket of murky water and continued to scrub. John looked at Hannah out of the corner of his eye. Her favorite dress, once form-fitting now hung loosely as if she were a little girl playing dress-up.

“Hannah, how about you eat something today, hmmm?” He walked past her and went into the kitchen. He pulled out pots and pans. Soon, Hannah could hear the sizzle of bacon. She did not know that John knew how to cook. She smirked at the revelation, but the smile faded as quickly as it surfaced.

“I learned in war,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “As someone who came from privilege, none of that mattered in the war. I’m not going to coddle you anymore, Hannah. I know you’re hurting, but when we find him, you need to be well. You stay up all day and night cleaning and reading. I need you to be well. Come here,” he demanded. Hannah sighed and threw the dirty rag into the water. It plopped, making a splashing sound. She slid down into the chair while John placed a plate in front of her. Sizzling bacon and a fluffy flapjack were neatly arranged. John poured a glass of milk and handed it to her before sitting across from her at the table. Hannah begrudgingly toyed with her food. She picked up the glass of milk with a thin layer of froth and slowly sipped.