Sacred Intentions (book III)
Roxane Tepfer Sanford
Copyright © 2011 Roxane Tepfer Sanford
smashwords edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher.
Sacred Intentions is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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Books by Roxane Tepfer Sanford
The Arrington series
The Girl in the Lighthouse
All That is Beautiful
Sacred Intentions
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my children, as always. You’re the best kids a mother could ever dream of!
Deborah Dawson, my editor. It’s been a pleasure working with you.
Caroline Billard, president of my fan club. You’re awesome!
I’ve been fortunate to have some great people who helped me along the way, including reading over my manuscripts and/or the novels, and sharing quality feedback. Thank you to, Ashley Mitchell, Steve Buffalin, Zach Walters, Sheri Wilkinson, Carolyn Rolfe, Caroline Pip Sharp, Natasha Snell & fellow author, Brenda Lochinger.
And a special thank you to all my readers and fans!
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John 1:8 If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.
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Table of Contents
~ One ~
My daddy would often tell me, from the time I was no higher than his knee and hardly taller than a wildflower that I was the most beautiful little girl he had ever laid eyes on and that I was going to grow up to be even more breathtaking than my own mummy.
Mummy, whose name was Charlotte, died hours after my birth, though she struggled to live for the sake of me, her beloved new baby, and Daddy, the man she was born to love. God, however, had other plans for Mummy; her destiny was fulfilled, and he called her to stand by him up in heaven.
Not long after Mummy’s passing, Daddy moved us from London, England, to the only home I would ever know as a child: Savannah, Georgia, in America. There Daddy acquired a great deal of land, more than two thousand acres, and had a grand mansion built by his many slaves. He named it Sutton Hall. Sutton was his ancestral name, a surname that was derived from his mother’s side. My paternal grandmother’s name was Sarah Sutton Arrington, and like my mummy, she died in childbirth.
So, as it happened, when Daddy’s own wife, my mummy, passed through the gates of heaven, he vowed never to reside in England again. But he kept his beloved Charlotte close in his heart always.
Through the years that Sutton Hall was being built, Daddy and I lived in one wing of the mansion at a time until its completion, four years later, in 1849. It was the most majestic mansion among the large plantations of Savannah. There were others that lined the river, but none came close or could even begin to compare to Sutton Hall, which stood nearly three stories high, made of white stuccoed brick, with eight colossal columns that sustained the massive doublewide front galleries. The attic extended the entire length of the mansion and boasted six dormered windows. Surrounding the enormous mansion and its lush gardens were about two dozen modest buildings that served as slave quarters, along with stables, a spinning-house, and an icehouse. Not too far away were the smokehouse, a blacksmith’s shop, and a dairy. Daddy had grand fields of cotton by the river, and closer to the mansion were large dirt fields in which to grow corn and various other vegetables.
While Daddy spent long days overseeing the huge plantation, I was left early on in the care of my mammy. Her real name was Abigail. I was told that she was purchased when I turned one year old. Mammy had been married once, but her husband had been sold long before to another plantation somewhere in Mississippi. She had a little girl near to my own age, who was like a sister to me.
Hattie was as pretty as Mammy. Her hair was a rich black, and her skin was a smooth, warm, honey brown. I knew Hattie would grow up to look just like her mother, and I envied both her beauty and the love she and her mother felt for one another. A part of me always remained lost and empty without a mother of my own, though having Mammy was the very next best thing.
Mammy treated me just as well as she did her own daughter and loved me unconditionally. She always had room on her lap for me and often said to us, “God gave me two knees. One for each girl.” And on her lap we sat and nuzzled up close against her bosom while she sang lullabies to us, every night before bed.
Hattie and I often shared my room, though she did have one of her own, for the mansion was certainly large enough. We were inseparable, and Daddy allowed Mammy and Hattie to live under our roof and not with the slaves in the rough shanty dwellings in the rear of the plantation.
If Daddy ever felt lonesome, I was never aware of it. As much as I knew he had loved Mummy, his eyes weren’t filled with sadness, but were always bright and contented, and his gaze would most often fall upon Mammy. At the time, when I was very, very young, I thought he was fond of Mammy only because she took care of me and lovingly tended to my every need. As the years passed, however, I soon began to realize that Mammy was no ordinary servant, but a woman for whom Daddy held a love that I suspected was almost as deep as the love he had once felt for my real mummy.
Mammy was enamored with Daddy; in fact, most women who crossed his path were. Daddy stood tall and proud, had a firm jaw, and towered over most men. His thick golden hair had turned gray by the time I was four; so I was told, but he carried himself the way any young, distinguished man would. His deep voice was low and melodious and laced with a marked English accent. Daddy’s eyes were sky blue, and every time I looked up at the clear sunny sky, I instantly thought of him.
He could have had any woman in the state of Georgia, I was sure of that, and one day, I asked him why he didn’t want to have a wife, the way all the other men had.
“Perhaps someday, Amelia, I will take on a wife. But for now, I am more than content with my beautiful daughter,” he said, and then he placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head. His eyes gazed past me to where Mammy stood, waiting to take me up to bed. Mammy smiled, and then bashfully lowered her eyes to the ground.
“Now go on with your mammy. Have a good sleep.”
After placing a quick kiss on Daddy’s cheek, I hurried over to Mammy. Hattie was in bed already, sick with a fever. Helen, Mammy’s sister, had been tending to Hattie while Mammy took care of all of my needs. Daddy seemed aware of Mammy’s worries, and as I headed up the grand staircase to my room, he pulled her aside and told me to go on.
“I’ll be right there,” Mammy said. I went on, then I stopped and went quietly back. I peeked around the corner and watched as Daddy embraced Mammy and caressed her back. They whispered things to one another that I couldn’t hear. I believed that was the way Daddy must have loved my mummy.
Shortly, Mammy came to help me change for bed. Hattie was in another room and I was to sleep alone.
“I need to see Hattie. Give Mammy a kiss,” she insisted, after I was in my bed clothes. She opened her arms for a hug.
“Will she be better tomorrow and come to school with me?” I asked, as Mammy closed the heavy velvet drapes for the night.
“Not sure, Miss Amelia. But hope so.” Mammy turned to leave, and as she did, I reached for her hand.
“Someday, I hope Daddy marries you.” More than anything, I wanted a real mother.
Mammy came close, sighed heavily, and looked at me with eyes filled with heartrending pain. She placed her soft hand onto mine and wistfully said, “My sweet girl, that just can’t never be.”
“Is it because you have a husband somewhere?”
“You ain’t old enough to understand just yet, Miss Amelia.”
She was correct in one aspect, although I understood more than she, or Daddy, could ever imagine.
Life at Sutton Hall was similar to that at other plantations around Savannah. It was a hard working farm, with daily chores that lasted from sunup until sundown. Slaves filled the fields and worked the grounds. Though Daddy was a fairly new plantation owner, unlike the others in the area, who were mostly second generation owners, he was well received and quickly admired. It was the way he handled business and the manner in which he kept his servants loyal that left most of them envious. When Daddy did manage to have some free time, he would always take me into Savannah to shop for dresses and expensive dolls for my growing collection. If he had any extra business in the city to attend to, he would bring Mammy along to watch over me. On those occasions, Mammy would dress in her Sunday best, instead of the simple work dresses she wore around Sutton Hall.
Those days were always special. And when Mammy joined us, we were like a real family. Though Hattie usually couldn’t come because she was too sickly, I was the happiest ever.
“Amelia, you are a gift from heaven; you were created in the likeness of angels,” Daddy had told me. “No one, never, could I love more than you.”
Daddy’s adoring words always melted my heart, and I was certain he would never waiver from his deep devotion and affection for me, and I would always hold the key to his heart - the key I was given after Mummy died. The only person I planned to share that key with was Mammy. She, I would share Daddy with.
By 1858, when I was thirteen years old, Daddy was one of the wealthiest men in Savannah and was not like most other plantation owners. They were all married, and their wives were as beautiful and sophisticated as the men were pompous and arrogant, unlike Daddy, who remained unpretentious and unspoiled and didn’t like any but one of them.
Mr. Niles Montgomery and his wife Catherine were frequent visitors to Sutton Hall. They were old friends of Daddy’s from England, and they all got along famously. They were an older couple who often visited their grown son, Perry, and his wife, Myrna on their nearby plantation. Perry and Myrna Montgomery had four girl babies in four years, and expecting their fifth child.
“They breeding like rabbits,” Mammy snickered one evening as she waited on me. I had to wear my finest dress to supper, for the Montgomery’s were bringing a new guest. “I bet that man ain’t never gonna get a son.”
“I don’t want to dress up,” I complained.
“Your daddy is expecting you.”
“I hate these suppers!”
“Now, Miss Amelia, you just gonna have to get used to it.”
I didn’t understand why several times a week I had to wear my finest dress, with a chemise, petticoat, and hoop under my lace skirt, to attend formal, boring, stuffy suppers with people who talked about things I wasn’t the least bit interested in. And this supper in particular, because Daddy insisted Mammy was not to attend. Normally, she waited in the corner and tended to me when necessary. Never once was she not permitted to be in the dining room.
“It be just fine,” Mammy whispered, and nudged me forward, then fell back into the shadows.
I stood beside Daddy and greeted each one of our supper guests with a proper curtsey as they spilled from the parlor into the dining room. All were familiar, all but a tall, regal woman who strolled in with Mr. Montgomery. I immediately noticed Daddy’s spine straighten and press his firm chest outward.
“Mrs. Norton, this is my daughter, Amelia,” Daddy introduced me after placing a quick gentlemanly kiss on her gloved hand.
The tall, older woman’s brow lifted as she looked me over and then said in a dry voice, “Pleased to meet you. My, you are certainly as lovely as Thomas mentioned.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Mrs. Eugenia Norton is Mr. Niles Montgomery’s eldest sister. She is visiting from London,” Daddy said. He took her arm and led her to the seat that had been unexpectedly reserved next to him. That was my seat.
Daddy noticed my surprise and discreetly motioned for me to take the seat down at the end of the long table.
I noticed Mammy watching us from out in the hall as we were served. Louis and Cordelia stayed on their toes all night and made certain the meal was exactly as Daddy had ordered. They served green pea soup, stewed sea bass, a French ham pie, and baked tongue. For desert there was plum pudding and peach ice cream.
The air was stuffy, the night dragged on. The conversation was typical of our supper parties: politics, civil unrest, business, travel. Daddy gave more of an ear to the stately woman beside him than I thought was necessary. He laughed when appropriate; his attention was undivided. I tried numerous times to get Daddy to look my way, to notice how miserable I was, but he didn’t glance my way once.
Mammy had apparently seen enough and made an entrance that caused quite the commotion.
“What is that slave doing in here unannounced?” Mrs. Norton spat.
Daddy, looking extremely uncomfortable, reprimanded Mammy.
“I didn’t call you in,” he stated, though Mrs. Norton was displeased at how mildly he spoke to her. She rolled her pale, stone-colored eyes, and scowled.
“I’m sorry, Masta Arrington, but it past Miss Amelia’s bedtime,” she stammered, and proceeded to take me out without permission. Mammy never, ever, had to ask permission from Daddy to do anything when it came to my well-being.
“Thomas, aren’t you going to stop her?” Catherine asked in distress. They all knew Mammy, and I couldn’t understand why everyone, including Daddy, was acting as if the president of the United States of America had joined us for supper.
Mammy shot Daddy a look of defiance. They locked eyes for a moment as we all waited to see what would happen next. Then Mrs. Norton chimed in. Her voice was sharp and her tone inconsiderate when she gasped, “How dare that slave girl disrespect you!”
Daddy didn’t have a mean bone in his body, and he ruled Sutton Hall with gloved fists. However, something happened to him that night that seemed to change the way we all lived and breathed from that day on.
Daddy’s eyes revealed displeasure toward Mammy, and he excused himself to deal with “the matter,” as he called it.
He whisked passed me and took hold of her arm as I hurried after them. The guests were left aghast and as they whispered, I stopped and listened, just as Daddy swept Mammy outside into the heat of the oppressive August evening.
“Why does he keep such an unruly slave?” Mrs. Norton asked in disgust.
Niles Montgomery cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Catherine dabbed her mouth with one of our fine silk napkins, shot her husband a look of disapproval, and whispered something in Mrs. Norton’s ear that made her face turn bright red and her mouth fall wide open in astonishment. “That wench?”
The women nodded in unison as the men excused themselves and headed for the smoking room for some after-supper drinks and cigars. I scurried away and ran up to my room where from my bedroom window I could hear Daddy talking to Mammy.
“I am trying to deal with all the pressures. You need to understand,” were his last words before he took her in his arms under the dim light of the early evening sky and placed a long kiss on her lips. Then they parted ways.
Hattie rushed in, followed by Mammy.
“We caught ten fish!” she exclaimed with a wide smile.
“You get washed up now, you hear!” Mammy snapped. Hattie’s smile faded, and she looked from her mother to me and dashed back out of the room.
Without a word, Mammy helped me undress and took me to bed. I sensed her tension, I felt her unhappiness, and most of all, I saw pain and trouble in her dark, sad eyes. I wanted in the worst way to ask why Daddy had treated her so badly, why all of the sudden he’d spoken to her as if she were one of his ordinary servants. I was almost afraid of the answers, and instead of asking, I closed my eyes and curled up with my goose down pillow. Although I wanted to wait for Hattie to return and climb into bed, my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and I found myself drifting off into a deep sleep.
The air was heavy and dewy as I stepped outside into the light of the following day. Hattie trailed behind. She was a heavy sleeper and extra slow in the morning.
“Hurry, Hattie, or we’ll be late for school,” I called, running ahead.
With her lunch pail, slate, and chalk in hand, she hurried to catch up.
“I hate school,” Hattie mumbled. “And church, too.”
Hattie’s favorite thing to do was wade in the river and fish. She didn’t have to work in the cotton fields like the other slave children. She had the same luxuries as I, although school for Hattie didn’t seem like a luxury. Some of the other children on the plantation were envious of her and often teased her. They tormented her incessantly, to the point where she would often run off to be alone. I felt sorry for Hattie and when she returned with red, cried-out eyes, I would throw my arms over her shoulders and bring her close and tell her that I was her best friend, that she shouldn’t mind their taunting, and that she should remember that being special sometimes comes with a heavy price.
That’s what Daddy had often told me in my most weary nights, when I felt displaced and gloomy because I didn’t have a mummy of my own, and the children at school would ridicule me.
“They aren’t taunting and teasing you for not having a mum; the children are envious and jealous of your beauty. They know how exceptional you are, that you stand out amongst them. That, unfortunately, is a small affliction you have to live with, for your own mum felt the same burden when she was a young girl.”
It surprised me that the beauty I had acquired without asking for it would keep the children at school from wanting to play with me, from being my friend, and from sharing anything at all with me. Hattie and I were outcasts; we were shunned and mocked, and through all the torment, we grew close and formed a bond that would forever go unbroken.
Typically, school days for Hattie and me were long and exhausting, and they grew especially worse when a new schoolmaster came to replace our aging teacher, Mr. Bolls. He had taught for all the years that I attended the school, before he became too ill to teach and then Mr. Giles was hired. When he stepped into the hot, stuffy schoolhouse, the hairs on the back of my neck immediately stood on edge. Hattie looked at me with unease, as the other children sat up straight - we all felt uncomfortable in the schoolmaster’s austere presence.
There was one troublesome boy in class - John Mason. He was the oldest son of the plantation owner nearest to Sutton Hall. John was thirteen, but stood as tall as any grown man and had a way of behaving like an ill-mannered fool. He was always contemptuous and disrespectful of Mr. Bolls. He played tricks on him, mocked his lessons, and aged Mr. Bolls years before his time. The other children were more mindful, especially Hattie and I. John hated that about us. John hated everything about us.
When Mr. Giles stood, his cold, steel-gray eyes scanned the class. Then, he cleared his throat and said with an ice-cold tone, “Good day. My name is Mr. Giles, and I am here to serve as your new schoolmaster.”
He then sat down at his desk, opened his ledger and proceeded to call out each of our names for attendance. I was the first, Hattie second. When he gazed up at Hattie, his eyes narrowed onto her, and he appeared somewhat perplexed. Then, he looked back down at his book and continued until John Mason reached from behind and around our bench and gave Hattie a painful pinch.
“Ouch!” Hattie yelped.
Mr. Giles stood abruptly, his face red with fury.
I bit my lower lip and sucked in my breath as the schoolmaster extended his long arm and pointed his thin finger at Hattie. “You there, come here.”
John snickered and the others giggled.
“SILENCE!” Mr. Giles hollered.
Everyone, even John, went still. Mr. Giles pulled out a switch and demanded that Hattie approach him. Hattie’s eyes grew wide, and she grabbed hold of my hand and squeezed it tight.
Without a thought, I stood to protect Hattie. I couldn’t bear to see her in trouble; I could never tolerate the sight of Hattie being punished.
“Sir, it was John Mason who pinched Hattie, and that caused her to cry out,” I explained. I kept my head high as I challenged his judgment. Hattie tugged my hand, indicating I should sit down.
“Is that so, Miss Arrington?” he said in a dry, cool manner. He slowly walked over to me, tapping the switch continuously in the palm of his hand, while Hattie continued to try to get me to sit.
“I see we have some rebels, some disrespectful pupils in my schoolhouse,” he began as he stopped before my bench. I sat back down and looked down to the floor, now very afraid.
“It was the Negro who shouted out,” John called out from where he sat behind us. “She ain’t even supposed to be in school. She is a slave!” The other children nodded in agreement.
“You boy . . . rise,” Mr. Giles commanded. John rose, kept his head straight, and refused to meet the teacher’s cold stare.
“I see what she is. And perhaps, since you are so fond of reaching out and touching the Negro girl, you should take her in your hand, proceed to the corner, and face the wall, FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!”
John didn’t flinch, his jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists. He gave Mr. Giles a sly smirk and said, “I ain’t touchin’ no Negro.”
In an instant, the schoolmaster cracked John across the face with the switch, sending him reeling back down into his place on the bench. Mr. Giles did an about face, sat back down at his desk, and continued taking the attendance as if he hadn’t an interruption.
Hattie remained shaken and ashamed, as she always was when the kids would say awful things to her. Hattie indeed was a Negro, but she lived exactly the same way as I did. We wore the same clothes and slept under the same roof. She even went by Daddy’s last name. Daddy, more than anything, wanted me to be happy, and if that meant giving me the closest thing to a sister by taking in Hattie as his own, he was willing to do so. Daddy’s unconventional ways, however, had a tendency to creep into his fine, structured world and to create more problems than he was sometimes ready to deal with.
Daddy received news of what happened at school from John Mason’s father. He was a distinguished but arrogant man, who had no fondness for Daddy. Hattie and I were just about to dress for bed when Daddy knocked on the door. Mammy had excused herself to see to lighting the lamps throughout the mansion.
“Girls, I need to have a word with you,” he said, standing near the tall windows. He briefly gazed outside before he drew the drapes in for the night.
Hattie and I sat on the edge of the bed and waited anxiously to hear Daddy’s predictable remarks about his unhappiness and concern over the unpleasant incident at school that very day.
“Mr. Mason informed me that you girls were disobedient to the schoolmaster.” Daddy’s tone was deep, and I could hear the doubt in his voice. He turned around, and we could see right away that he wasn’t looking for an explanation. Daddy came and knelt down on his knees before us, took hold of each of our hands, and with pleading eyes asked us to please do our best to overlook the tribulations that came with his agreement to allow Hattie and Mammy to become like members of our own family.
It became obvious as the years passed that what Daddy was doing was considered improper, and it was only a matter of time before things were due for a change. Life would soon begin to transform right before our very eyes.
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~ Two ~
It was on a fine, mild December morning, right after Christmas services, that I noticed for the first time that Mammy was with child. Mammy had been in a corner, discreetly adjusting her skirt, when I noticed her protruding belly. She saw me staring and quickly adjusted the dress and gave Daddy a fleeting glance.
We were sitting in the parlor, waiting for Cordelia to bring in our afternoon tea and sandwiches. Hattie was not able to attend services, but was hurried up to bed as she was sick once again.
Daddy stood from his chair and excused himself for a moment and I watched him motion for Mammy to come take his place in the chair. With wide eyes, I stared at my mammy in wonder.
“I see you looking at me. You know I’m having a baby,” she began, taking hold of my hand and putting it on her belly.
I wasn’t certain if I wanted Mammy to have a baby. Hattie and I were her children, and if a new one came, she wouldn’t have any time left for us. Mammy seemed to sense my worry and didn’t waste a moment to put my mind at ease. With affection and tenderness, she opened her arms for me to come into her embrace, and she hugged me close. “I will always love you, child.”
She placed a warm kiss on my cheek and looked over at Daddy. He stood tall and proud, his handsome face was flushed, and his joyful smile filled every corner of the enormous room.
I wasn’t certain Hattie was aware of the new baby due to come into our close family. If she did know, was she keeping it a secret from me, I wondered. Hattie and I swore never, ever, to keep secrets from one another. But if she believed it was for my own sake, would she do such a thing? Did Hattie sense how jealous I was and how much the thought of Mammy loving another child, other than her two best girls, left my heart aching? I asked myself.
That night, Hattie wasn’t well enough to return to our bedroom and was kept away. Without her to talk to, I was overwhelmed with the burden of worrying about the future and the evening before me.
Adding to my dismay, Mrs. Eugenia Norton arrived with her brother, Niles Montgomery and his wife, Catherine, along with Perry and Myrna Montgomery for our Christmas ball. Daddy invited the slaves to attend along with the guests at this formal party every year. Daddy gave every slave a gift, and the atmosphere was always jovial. However, this year, there was something about Mrs. Norton that left me less than cheerful. In fact, I was utterly miserable.
Daddy proceeded to greet her with a warm embrace, and his rosy lips lingered on her cheek an extra long time. She smiled, looking pleased, and slipped her arm through Daddy’s as they made their way into the grand ballroom. Mammy was up with Hattie; her fever had spiked, and was continuously pressing cool cloths on her head to keep her comfortable. Helen stayed near, just in case I was in need of anything. Abraham, Daddy’s personal servant and Helen’s husband, waited in the wings for the moment when Daddy should need his services.
The celebration was as grand as in any year past, and the slaves came dressed in their finest hand-sewn dresses and suits. Christmas was the only day they dressed near the same as Hattie and me and Daddy and Mammy. They were jolly and ebullient and filled very part of our grand ballroom.
I was gloomy because Hattie couldn’t join the party; I was lonely when she wasn’t beside me, to be my better half, to lift my spirits. And I was especially miserable because Daddy devoted all of his attention to Mrs. Norton.
I sat sulking away on one of the settees way back in the corner of the ballroom, watching them dance. Daddy was a fine dancer, and he gracefully twirled her around as if they were floating on clouds. With a delighted expression, he gently guided her across the gleaming marble floors and kept his strong hand pressed against the middle of her back, as her white-gloved hand rested in the other. Her lovely pale blue silk-overlaid ball gown flowed beneath her, and her eyes, which typically were icy and distant, sparkled with enchantment. Most woman seemed enchanted when they danced with my daddy.
As I watched them, perplexed as to how Daddy could want to give such undivided attention to such an unattractive woman as Mrs. Norton, Perry Montgomery came over to me, looked down with a pleasant smile, and extended his hand. “Young lady, will you give me the honor of this dance?”
I hesitated at first, and then as I gazed up at him it occurred to me that he was the only one who wanted to dance with me - Daddy had no interest.
“Certainly, Mr. Montgomery,” I replied, and allowed him to lift me off the settee and into his cordial embrace.
I was the same age as one of his four daughters. The girls stayed close by their mother as she sat looking huge and uncomfortable, her new baby due at any moment. I wondered why Perry Montgomery was interested in dancing with me instead of his own girls.
He whirled me around as we danced amongst the hundred or so guests. I had always thought Perry Montgomery was one of the most handsome men in Georgia, besides Daddy, of course. His hair was black, and his eyes almost the same color. His skin was always tinted brown from the hot Savannah sun. He had high cheekbones and a firm jaw, covered with a thick beard. From the moment I met him, I remembered being enamored of his handsome looks and profuse southern charm.
“Thank you, Miss Arrington. It was a pleasure to dance with you,” he said after the music had ended and after placing a lingering kiss on the back of my hand.
I could feel the heat of my blush cover my neck and face, and as I flicked my eyes away he continued staring at me. Then, before he left to return to where his homely wife sat, he leaned down and whispered into my ear, “You are indeed the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on,” and walked away.
I hurried past the crowds of people, flew up the grand staircase and ran all the way to my room. I couldn’t get to my armoire fast enough to pull out my personal book I always kept hidden. It was where I wrote down all of my intimate secrets, things I couldn’t even begin to reveal to Hattie. I wrote of passion and desire, the things that made my heart race, and the feelings that reminded me how I wanted nothing more than to someday marry a man just as handsome and divine as Perry Montgomery.
Not long after, Helen came looking for me. I had fallen asleep in my bed, with my book in hand.
“Miss Amelia, your daddy gone lookin’ for you,” she said, as she gently shook me awake. “Come now, you best git downstairs.”
Helen adjusted my skirt, quickly fixed the long ringlets in my hair, and hurried me back to the ball. I had only been asleep for an hour, but Daddy was not pleased.
He was waiting for my return, and took me aside into a dark corner so no one would overhear his reprimand. No one, that is, except Mrs. Norton. Daddy took a long breath after glancing her way and receiving a sharp nod from her.
“You shouldn’t go off without my permission, Amelia.”
Daddy stood towering over me, and I strained my neck to stare up at him. His tone was harsh and I cringed at his unhappy expression. Daddy had rarely been displeased with me, and never before did I have to ask permission to do as I pleased. I didn’t understand.
“But, Daddy, I just went up to my room for a while,” I said in a whiney voice, laced with a comfortable southern accent.
“Why does she speak like that? She is English!” Mrs. Norton spat from where she stood with her lean arms folded over her large bosom.
“Speak like what?” I asked.
“Go back to the ball,” Daddy ordered uncomfortably. “And next time, make certain to ask permission before you retreat to your room.”
A discreet, contemptuous smile came to Mrs. Norton.
“Yes, Daddy,” I replied, and after being excused, I sulked back into the ballroom.
I found my place back on the settee. My eyes followed Daddy as he and Mrs. Norton politely conversed with our guests. I would have sought out Mr. Montgomery, but he had taken his wife home, where I learned the next day she had given birth to another daughter.
As the evening wore on, I grew bored and sleepy. Helen came to escort me off to bed. Daddy noticed us slipping out of the ballroom and sauntered over.
Daddy’s eyes had a familiar sparkle in them that I instantly noticed, and my heart skipped a beat as he took hold of me. “I’ll see Amelia to bed,” he told Helen, and he whisked off with me.
When he had me tucked in, Daddy knelt beside my bed and took hold of my hands. I believed he was there to apologize for being so harsh with me, for scolding me. I anticipated him confessing that he had lost his senses, and that the wicked Mrs. Norton must have cast an evil spell upon him to make him dislike me for even one moment.
“Amelia, my sweet girl…” he began in a soft, lighthearted voice.” I have some wonderful news for you.”
I slid closer to him and grasped his hands and waited with wide-eyed anticipation, holding my breath for the wonderful news he was about to divulge. Instead of a simple apology, he had something wonderful to share with me.
“After so long, after so many years, I have found love again. You will no longer be without a mummy.”
“Found love? What do you mean? Have you not loved Mammy all along? Does this mean you will marry her and make her my mummy?” I sat up and cried with delight. Oh, just the thought of having Mammy as my real mother made me so happy. It was a Christmas wish come true.
“And Hattie will be a real sister to me! I am so happy!” I threw myself into Daddy’s arms and began to smother him with dozens of kisses until I sensed his uneasiness. His subtle shudder made me pull away and stare into his troubled blue eyes.
“It is not Mammy whom I plan to marry. It is Mrs. Norton I have fallen in love with,” he confessed and almost shamefully swung his eyes away.
With a heavy lump forming in my throat, I cupped his face in my hands and made him look at me. “Tell me you are playing an awful joke on me, Daddy,” I implored.
He lowered my hands and smiled. It was a weary smile.
“We are leaving for England tomorrow. We will marry there and return by spring. She has two girls who will be your sisters - Beatrice and Violet.”
Daddy spoke matter-of-factly and turned away.
“I thought you loved Mammy. If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t marry Mrs. Norton. You told me I would always come first, that you would never do anything to hurt me!”
“You must try and understand,” he pleaded.
“I don’t understand!”
He came and brought me into his embrace.
“I don’t love Mrs. Norton the way I love you. You are my daughter and will always have a special place in my heart. Mrs. Norton is one who will make a suitable wife for me.”
I lifted my face and peeked up at him. Daddy was crying, and his eyes were pleading with me to understand his plight.
“You don’t love me!” I huffed and pulled away from him.
He went to reach for me, to pull me back and shower me with the kind of love and affection only he could give me, when suddenly he stood up awkwardly. Mrs. Norton stood in the doorway.
“I must go now,” Daddy said. A cold chill ran straight through me. He gave a strained smile and cleared his tight throat. “Tomorrow, on Christmas morning, there will be a special gift for you in the parlor.”
He leaned in to kiss me farewell, but I turned my cheek away. From the corner of my eye, I saw him wince, and I fell into bed the moment he followed her out the door. The sound of my bedroom door abruptly closing rang through my ears as I drifted into a dejected, miserable sleep.
“Amelia, Amelia,” I heard as I was gently nudged awake.
I drifted out of sleep and opened my heavy lids to see Hattie standing beside me, anxiously waiting for me to rise.
“It’s Christmas morning!”
I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
“Come on now, let’s see what Santa Claus brought us,” Hattie urged, yanking me out of bed. Her fever had disappeared as fast as it had come, and she was more lively and excited than ever.
After I slid out of bed, Mammy came in to help me dress. Her eyes looked red, and the crease in her brow was extra deep this morning. She didn’t come in singing this day; her normally happy glow had vanished.
“Come, Miss Amelia, you must dress for church,” she said, pulling my nightgown up over me.
“Can’t we see our presents first, Momma?” Hattie cried.
Mammy sighed, shaking her head in protest.
“But Momma!”
“Hush now, Hattie!”
“Daddy said there was something special for me, Mammy. Is it true?” I whispered into her ear as she leaned in to button my dress.
“Yes,” she replied. “When we get back from church you can see.”
Mammy instructed me to hurry along down for breakfast. As soon as she walked out, Hattie jumped off the bed and grabbed hold of my hand. “Let’s go peek!”
We quietly stole down the grand staircase and hurried passed the servants, who wandered leisurely about, knowing Daddy didn’t have his watchful eyes on them.
In the parlor, we found presents surrounding the tall, green Christmas tree. Hattie ran over and shuffled through them to see which were hers.
“You are making a terrible mess,” I snapped and hurried to make her stop. That’s when I saw what was up against the wall, hidden at first by the giant tree.
Hattie and I wandered over to it. With a heavy pain in my heart, I sat down at the bench and stared at the brand new piano.
“Your daddy left this note for you,” Hattie said and lifted it off ivory piano keys.
My dearest daughter,
I hope you like the present I left especially for you this Christmas morning. I listen to you sing in church and the angels must cry when your voice reaches the heavens.
Daddy
I never once mentioned to anyone how I longed for a piano of my very own, and how when I sang in church I felt as though God himself was smiling down upon me. Singing made me feel alive, free, and beautiful, though I never realized anyone paid much attention to me. When I was in church singing hymns, my mind closed off to the real world; I saw nothing but visions of angels and my very own mummy. I became lost in a special place, a place I imagined my real mummy being.
“Come, Momma is calling for us,” Hattie said, causing me to quickly snap out of my daydream.
~ ~ ~
~ Three ~
With Hattie and me in tow, Mammy hurried down the dry, dusty dirt road to the white clapboard church with a steeple that appeared almost as high as the clouds. Dozens of tall, stained-glass windows graced the walls, allowing brilliant colored light to filter into the church. The stained-glass portraits were all of Jesus in different scenes from the Bible. My favorite one was high above the altar. It depicted the infant Jesus with his mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, being adored by the shepherds. The sunlight that beamed through the stained glass cast a prism of colors over the altar and onto the Reverend Carter.
The good reverend was a young preacher, years younger than Daddy, tall and lean, with dark brown hair and soft green eyes. His voice was commanding, yet he spoke with deep, captivating eloquence that left his small congregation mesmerized with his passionate, though sometimes drawn out sermons.
Most often when we weren’t singing hymns, I was daydreaming. The reverend’s voice slowly faded away and my mind easily wandered. As my eyes swung onto the stained glass window nearest to our pew, I envisioned Mummy as one of the angels surrounded by sweet, gleeful cherubs. Each time we came to church, I felt as close to my own mummy as I could ever be. I believed she hovered near and showered me with her love and affection in an invisible, divine way. And when I sang, I opened my mouth as wide as I could and belted out the hymns I was certain she would hear. Daddy always stood beside me, holding the hymn book open and low for me, and smiled proudly.
However, today, this Christmas morning, I didn’t feel much like singing, as I wasn’t pressed close up against the warmth of Daddy, for he wasn’t there. Instead, Hattie held the hymn book open and encouraged me with a quick whisper to sing. “Everyone is looking over at you, waiting for your voice to fill the church.”
I swallowed hard, and gazed around uneasily. All eyes were upon me. I never realized my voice could have such a profound effect on anyone. Though Daddy told me I had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, one to match my face, I wasn’t aware that anyone else took notice, for when I sang, I only sang to Mummy. Even Reverend Carter stood high on the altar with his eyes locked onto me, earnestly waiting for me to join in.
I lowered my eyes onto the hymn book and leaned into Hattie. She was inches taller, and I felt protected and safe when I was near her.
“Go on, Amelia, sing. Sing for your momma, sing to the heavens,” she whispered.
As soon as I began, as soon as my mouth opened and sang out the words to “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” my heart instantly lifted, and my woeful thoughts of Daddy being far away, gone with Mrs. Norton to be married, vanished. I saw everyone around me smile my way, and I shyly smiled back, and then belted out the remainder of the hymn. I was certain Mummy heard me loud and clear, even all the way up past the gates of heaven and into God’s kingdom.
As soon as we sat down again, Reverend Carter stepped forward and nodded approvingly to me and then slowly lifted his long arms up into the air, tilted his head back, and roared, “For unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given!”
It was one of the few times I actually listened to the sermon. I was surprisingly interested and proud of myself. I looked past Hattie to see if Mammy had noticed I wasn‘t daydreaming, as she often caught me doing. She sat looking forlorn, fanning herself. The morning grew hot and the church became sweltering. Small beads of sweat dripped down from her brow, and she periodically dabbed it away with a simple piece of cotton cloth.
We were all ready to exit the stuffy church and hurry home late that morning to open our Christmas presents. Mammy had some difficulty keeping up with Hattie and me as we ran ahead. “You girls slow down now, you hear! I can’t keep up!” she called.
Hattie and I slowed down so Mammy could catch up.
“You knows I am with child,” she snapped. She took hold of our arms and made us walk alongside her, all the way back to the plantation.
When we reached home, Mammy let go, and Hattie and I rushed giggling past the small group of new slaves that had just arrived and into the parlor to get to our presents.
“I know just which ones are mine!” Hattie said as she ran to the gifts.
I followed suit and reached around to find packages with my name on the little tags.
Mammy came in, along with Helen and Cordelia, to clean up after us and to open what presents Daddy had left for her. In years past, she’d received a pretty store-bought hat and gloves, a lovely wrap, and even sweet perfume, which she wore on long nights when Daddy took her for a stroll along the river. After she opened her presents, Mammy would throw Daddy a shy, loving smile, causing his eyes to sparkle more brilliantly than ever.
After opening my dozens of gifts, I searched through the mess of paper for Mammy’s special present. So far I had found none. She was standing nearby, her brown eyes anxiously scanning under the tree, and all too soon her happy grin faded.
“Mammy, I’m certain there is a gift for you,” I cried when her expression turned disheartened.
“Never you mind, Miss Amelia. I got to see to some things. You girls get washed for lunch,” she choked and hurried out before we saw her cry. Cordelia and Helen looked visibly distraught and went to console her.
Hattie and I lost all interest in our gifts. Even the store-bought blonde- haired porcelain doll Daddy had bought me couldn’t keep me from feeling such sadness for Mammy. We silently cleaned up by ourselves.
Before making our way up to our rooms to wash for lunch, we heard a sudden commotion outside and stepped out onto the gallery to see what it was all about.
“Lookie here at the dumb big man who can’t speak a word,” one man said, while the others laughed and pointed at the giant Negro slave, who’d been pushed off the wagon.
“Get up, get up!” Grover, Daddy’s slave driver, ordered.
The giant man, who towered over any Negro or white man I had ever seen, grabbed hold of the side of the wagon and painstakingly lifted himself out of the pool of mud he had fallen into. Mammy and the other women had been watching the whole time.
The men continued to snicker as the man, who I later learned was named Hamilton, pulled his one piece of luggage from the thick mud and stood looking humiliated.
Mammy had seen enough. She knew if Daddy were here, none of this would be tolerated. “You all get to your quarters! Grover, what you doing letting those men push him off like that!”
The new slaves instantly hushed up and tried to appear respectful to her, though they were trying desperately to conceal their smiles and laughter.
“Come on now, get along,” Grover ordered and along they went around the mansion toward the row of cabins in the back. Hamilton trailed behind. His enormous feet kept his pace slow and steady like an ox. When he passed Mammy, he thanked her with a timid nod and then bashfully swung his eyes away.
By lunch time, Mammy had regained her composure, but wasn’t able to hide a tear or two that couldn’t help but escape her sad eyes.
“Sure is a good lunch, Mammy. Thank you,” I said and smiled. She always told me my smile could brighten the stormiest day.
“You has an inner light, my child. Your smile lights up the room.”
But on this day, my smile didn’t light up Mammy’s day, and it pained me to see her hurt. The only one now who could take her heartache away and give light to back her life was my daddy. And he wasn’t there to do so.
Later that Christmas evening, after Hattie and I tried on the brand new store-bought dresses for one another, we made our way to the cabins to have a celebration with the slaves.
Mammy was already there with her sisters, and their husbands and children. Helen and Abraham had one daughter my age, Winifred, and two older sons, Jackson and Simon, while Cordelia and Louis had two older boys named Luke and Solomon.
By twilight, everyone in the small colony was outside, singing gospels and dancing merrily around a large bonfire. Children were playing with their rolling hoops, which was what Daddy bought for every one of the dozen or so slave children.
I noticed the new slave men had quickly made themselves at home and joined in the festivities. All but the giant man named Hamilton. Apparently fearing more ridicule, he peered out from one of the small cabin windows, trying to remain unseen.
Hattie had already run off with her cousins after I told her I would catch up with them shortly.
“Where you going?” Mammy asked when she noticed me heading toward the dark cabin where Hamilton stayed hidden.
“We’re playing hide and seek,” I lied.
Mammy looked past me and to the cabin. “You can’t be playing in there. Come sit with me.”
She placed me on her lap without noticing my quick, inconspicuous wave to the man in the shadows. He waved back, and through the darkness I could see his bright white teeth smiling. I leaned back against my mammy, though it was somewhat awkward, since the baby she carried inside was so large. Mammy was always soft and warm, comforting and full of love for me. She would always be the closest thing to a real mother I could ever have. And while she rocked me as they all sang in harmony, I looked up at the star-filled night and wished that when Daddy did come home, he wouldn’t bring Mrs. Norton back with him. I wished that while he was over in England he would miss my mammy so terribly and realize that he should marry her instead, and that Mammy was the only woman who should be my mother. It was the one wish I wrote in my journal, and I made that wish upon a star, night after night, until the day Daddy was due to return to Sutton Hall.
* * *
The holiday sped by, and much to Hattie’s dismay, we were soon heading back to school. I was excited because every day after school a piano instructor was coming to Sutton Hall to teach me how to play the piano Daddy had given me as my Christmas gift. In school, as always, Hattie and I sat side by side, and during recess we sat up on a grassy knoll and ate from our lunch pails.
Because none of the other children liked Hattie, we tried to stay far from their ridicule and teasing, but John Mason continually harassed us. And if it wasn’t John taunting Hattie for the color of her skin, her coarse hair, or any of her other features that were different from the rest of the class, he sent his nasty girlfriend, Susannah Hansen, to do his dirty work.
On this warm winter afternoon, the school girls sauntered up to where Hattie and I sat under a magnolia tree eating our lunch. Pretending not to notice us, they began a game of Ring Around the Rosie. Hattie and I watched them go a few times around, and then we rose up and wiped the dust off our dresses.
“Where y’all goin’? Don’t like our singin’, Amelia?” Susannah sneered. She was as tall as Hattie, with pale yellow hair and narrow eyes that were set too close to her nose. “We hear you at church, singin’ like a dog howlin’!”
All the girls behind her giggled.
John was hovering near a crabapple tree, gathering up the small apples and jamming them into his pants pockets.
“Come on, Hattie, let’s go,” I said, ignoring Susannah’s remark, and we hastily walked past the small posse.
John then whipped an apple at Hattie, which hit her straight in the chest.
Again the girls laughed. I picked up the apple and barreled it back at John, who caught it and came charging over to me.
“Run, Amelia!” Hattie shouted.
I lifted my dress and headed for the safety of the school, but John was too fast. In an instant, he grabbed me by my one of my ringlets and yanked me back against him.
Susannah rushed over to watch me struggle while the others held Hattie back.
Panic filled me as the much older John Mason began to slip his hand under my skirt.
“Let me go! Stop it!”
John pulled up my skirt, exposing my chemise for all to see. While they were all laughing, I was able to free myself and I took off running for home. Hattie wasn’t far behind; she ran fast to catch up to me. As soon as she could, she stopped and brought me into her embrace, where we clung to one another.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go to school anymore,” Hattie choked. “All I do is cause trouble for you.”
I pulled back and stared up at her. Her expression was smothered in defeat as her eyes lowered to the ground.
“If you don’t go, Hattie Arrington, then neither will I.”
“But you love school,” she groaned.
“I love you more. Now, no more talking. From this day on, we pretend to go off to school, but instead of reaching the school, we will play by the river.”
“Hooky? You think we should play hooky?” Hattie choked in disbelief.
“That’s exactly what I am saying. And no time like the present.”
Hand in hand, Hattie and I hurried along, laughing and skipping, not looking back.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Hattie and I sat by river’s edge and soaked our feet in the cold water and then leaned back against the trees and talked about things to come and our deepest secrets.
“Tell me, Hattie, do you still want to marry Ruben?” I asked. “Do you write about him in your journal, the way I do about Mr. Montgomery?”
“You’re too young for Mr. Montgomery.”
“Well, Ruben is probably twenty years old,” I retorted. Ruben was the blacksmith, Oswald’s, apprentice on the plantation.
“Maybe, but he isn’t married.”
“I don’t imagine marrying Perry Montgomery, just marrying someone as handsome,” I confessed through my hot blush.
“He is awfully handsome,” Hattie added, and lay back into the marsh with me.
The sun was hot, the air typically moist and dewy. We closed our eyes and allowed the sun to bake our faces.
“I think this is going to work out just fine, don’t you, Hattie?”
“I sure hope so, ’cause if we get caught, we will sure be in for it.”
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