New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [47]
Well, about dusk, my little Martha died. Her mother being so exhausted had fallen into a fitful sleep a little while before. And not wanting the child’s body to be dead in the room with her, I picked Martha up and stole quietly down into the yard. And the Boss said I could put her in the stable for the time being, and that maybe I should bury her that night.
When I got back to Naomi, she was trying to sit up and looking for Martha.
“Where is she?” she cried.
“It’s cooler down below,” I said. I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth just then. “She’s resting there a while.” But at that moment through the window we heard Clara weeping. So they must have told her.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” says Naomi. “My little Martha’s dead.”
And I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t answer her. And then Naomi just fell back on her bed and closed her eyes.
Later that night she began to take the fever really bad. She was shivering and burning.
“I’m going, Quash,” she said to me. “I’m going tonight.”
“You’ve got to hold on if you can,” I said. “We need you, Hudson and me.”
“I know,” she said.
The next morning it began to rain. Just a slow, steady rain. I was tending Naomi, so I had no thought of what else was passing in the world that day. But in the afternoon, the Boss came into the yard and asked after Naomi.
“Have you heard the news?” he said to me then. “They executed poor Leisler today.”
“I’m sorry, Boss,” I said.
“The Mistress is taking it very hard,” he told me. “They gave him a traitor’s death.”
I knew what that meant. They hang you, but not long enough to kill you. Then they tear out your bowels and cut your head off. It was hard to think of such a thing happening to a gentleman like Meinheer Leisler.
“He was no more a traitor than I am,” said the Boss. “The people are taking pieces of his clothes as relics. They say he’s a martyr.” He sighed. “By the way, Hudson should remain in the kitchen tonight, I think.”
“Yes, Boss,” I said.
That night, the rain continued. I wondered if the coolness would help Naomi, but it didn’t seem to. Up to the middle of the night, the fever was causing her to toss and turn, and cry out. Then she grew quieter. Her eyes were closed, and I couldn’t tell if she was getting better or losing the fight. Toward dawn, I realized that the rain had stopped. Naomi’s breathing was shallow and she seemed very weak. Then she opened her eyes.
“Where’s Hudson?” she said.
“He’s fine,” I told her.
“I want to see him,” she whispered.
“You mustn’t,” I said.
She seemed to sink after that. About dawn I got up and went outside for a moment, to breathe some fresh air and look at the sky. It was clear. The morning star was in the east.
When I came back in, Naomi had gone.
The days after the funeral, the Boss and the Mistress were very good to me. The Boss made sure I had things to keep me busy, and he made sure that Hudson was working too. He was right to do that. As for the Mistress, she didn’t say much, but you could see that she was very shocked about the killing of Meinheer Leisler.
One day, as I was working in the yard, the Mistress came and stood beside me. She was looking sad. After a while, she said: “You and Naomi were happy together, weren’t you?” So I said, yes. “You didn’t quarrel?”
“We never had a cross word,” I answered.
She was quiet for a moment or two. Then she said: “Cruel words are a terrible thing, Quash. Sometimes you regret them. But what’s been said cannot be unsaid.”
I hardly knew how to answer that, so I kept working. After another moment or two, she nodded to herself, and went indoors.
Late that year, the Mistress got another slave woman to take the place of Naomi, and I believe she thought maybe I’d take up with her instead. But although she wasn’t a bad woman, we didn’t get along so well; and truth to tell, I don’t think anyone could have replaced Naomi.
Young Hudson was a great consolation to me. There being just the two of us, we spent a lot of time together. He was a handsome boy, and a good son. He never got tired of being at the waterfront. He’d get the sailors