Song of Slaves in the Desert - Alan Cheuse [137]
“But it is good news that you have made up your mind. And as far as owning anyone, you will own all of that girl’s fifty or so uncles and aunts and cousins and brothers and sisters, and so forth. Though it is difficult, if you ever were so inclined as to figure just who is related to whom. I know there are Gentiles who keep good records about these matters, and I know that we Israelites are famous for keeping our genealogies, but that has never been of much concern to me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief with which he dabbed at his forehead, giving the impression that he was an overweight dandy rather than a businessman.
He was putting me off, playing with me, but I would no longer be toyed with in this manner.
“Uncle,” I said as forthrightly as I could, “I don’t want them all. I just want her.”
Now he appeared puzzled, using his great bulk to somehow sink down inside himself and keep from the question I had proposed.
“Well, hum, there are so many difficulties…” He suffered a jagged cough, and appeared almost bewildered by that occurrence, and stuffed his cloth into his pocket and quickly poured himself another brandy.
“Difficulties…?”
“None that…I don’t wish…Nephew?” He raised his beefy arm and drank.
“Yes, Uncle?”
“We will own all of these slaves in common, you see? But I cannot sell you that girl. In fact, if you had decided to recommend to my brother that you believe this enterprise of ours to be a bad proposition, your aunt and I would sell all the slaves, except for a few, like Liza and Precious Sally and Black Jack. They would come to town with us and work for us in whatever house we might acquire there.”
“So, Uncle, you are saying no to my proposal?”
“Is it a proposal? Either it is or it isn’t.” His hands were trembling, which gave me the impression that he felt nearly overwhelmed by this difficulty. “Do you wish to become partners with me and your cousin in the plantation?”
“That question I am still pondering, Uncle.”
His eyes wandered off to the front lawn, where fireflies played across the hedges.
“That is, as I say, a simple question. But you have complicated it enormously by your query about Liza.”
“You are fond of her, Uncle?”
“As I say, were we to sell all else and move to town, she would be one of the few we would keep.”
Isaac came to mind, the picture of him soaked with sweat, bending above the rice stalks.
“You would sell Isaac?”
“Isaac? Oh, no, no, no, he had slipped from my mind.” An agitated look spread across his face. “No, we would keep him also.”
I shook my head in dismay.
“But you would not sell Liza?”
Now his voice tightened, his drawl nearly disappearing from his speech, like the old cultivation water from the rice fields upon the opening of the drain ditches.
“Nephew, how do I say this? She is like family to us.”
“I am part of the family. So she would not be leaving the family if I bought her.”
He took several deep breaths, and I watched him, and waited, listening to the now overbearing sounds of night.
“Dear nephew,” he said, “Because you are so insistent I will consult with your cousin about this question. Though I doubt he will hold a view different from my own. He…is quite attached to that girl.”
“Is that so?”
My uncle ignored my impudence and focused again on the matter that mattered most to him.
“Allow me to say this again. If you persuade your father, my brother, to invest in the plantation, you will in effect become the girl’s owner.”
He cleared his throat.
“I wish to resolve our business. Young man, the future of our family depends on this, and I trust you will make the right decision. And when I say family, I hope you understand that it includes all of the slaves who work on this plantation.”
“Uncle, I am still pondering all this. I hope that by the time of the rice harvest, everything will be clear to me.”
“Which will be soon. We have had good hot days, and Isaac tells me the kernels are plumping up beautifully.”
“Yes,” I said, “it will be soon.”
“Meanwhile, I will speak to my son about your proposal. Who knows that