Song of Slaves in the Desert - Alan Cheuse [120]
“Nawssir, massa,” Precious Sally said from the stove, and my two relatives laughed.
Jonathan turned his glance to me.
“You haven’t changed your mind about leaving, have you? Staying here you could take a great deal more leisure.”
“What precisely do you mean, Cousin?” I said, staring at him and trying to discern some particle of motive in the events of the previous evening.
Jonathan gave a shrug and settled at the table with a coffee mug before him.
“Nothing more than what I said, Cousin,” he replied.
“Because in fact I have decided to take a bit more time,” I said.
He sat up, and appeared to be surprised.
“How very nice. Father?”
“Yes, indeed,” my uncle said, his jaws still working on the meat of the bird.
“Though I still do want to inquire about the sailings to New York.”
“Eventually you will go, yes,” my uncle said, swallowing.
Jonathan raised his mug toward me.
“But not this week or next.” If he had not sounded so smug I would have taken him for being surprised by my decision.
“No,” I said, “I don’t think so. Yet I am not entirely sure when I will go.”
“Of course,” my uncle said.
“At least not until the rice harvest, yes?” said my cousin.
“I cannot say.”
“Of course not,” my uncle said, touching a napkin to his lips in that dainty manner he had.
“I will need the carriage for a trip to town today,” I said.
“Oh?” Jonathan looked at me suspiciously.
“I wish to speak to the ship’s agent,” I said. “I would like to know the schedule.”
“Of course,” my uncle said. “one of the boys will take you.”
“I will go alone,” I said. “I believe I can handle the horse.”
“You have learned a lot in your short stay, yes,” my uncle said. “Has he not, Jonathan?”
“Oh, yes, Father, indeed, he has.”
“And I will need some assistance,” I said.
My uncle turned to Jonathan.
“Then you will go—”
“Not him, sir. I will need some assistance…in the market. Those local curios you mentioned to me when I first arrived. I thought perhaps Liza might accompany me and help me find them.”
“Did I mention such things to you?” my cousin said.
Crockery clattered in the washing basin behind us where Precious Sally worked her pots and plates.
“You find the fine baskets for the harvest right here on the plantation,” she said.
“But they are worn from use, Sally,” my cousin put in. “It would be a good idea to find some good unused specimens in the market.”
“Miss Rebecca, she could go,” Precious Sally said as she picked up dishes and silverware strewn about the floor.
“Rebecca is teaching her reading today to the children from the cabins,” my cousin said.
“I…we will be fine by ourselves,” I said.
“Of course,” my uncle said. “That’s a splendid idea.”
“Liza will be of great assistance,” my cousin said. “I am sure she has been already.”
He sent me a sideways glance, and I held his gaze. Did he suspect anything about last night? Could Liza have said something to him as a way of keeping him at arm’s length? Or, worse, could he after all have sent her to me on a mission to tempt me to stay, making Liza into a monstrous liar? And was my uncle a part of such a plot? A cold shock of regret quivered through my body and if I had been standing next to the wide creek I might have thrown myself headlong into the waters.
But if we were going to town that day—and there was nothing I wanted more—we would have to leave soon. The drive was long, and I hoped to spend more time with Liza, though where or how I had not even thought about at that point.
My uncle aided us in what was now a plan, going out to look for Black Jack so that he might send him out to the barn to find Isaac who would hitch up the horses. Jonathan meanwhile went about his business for the day, whatever that business was, leaving me alone in the room for a moment with Precious Sally.
“Massa from New York,” she said, her big brown arms showing below the rolled-up sleeves of her voluminous dress of cotton sacking with an apron of thicker sacking draped over it.
“Is that what you call me?”
“It is,” she said.
“I suppose that’s who I am. Except I’m nobody’s master.”
“Not