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“You rang for me, Missus White?”
“I did,” my mother said to Lizzie with a warm smile. “Would you be so kind and have some tea brought to the parlor?”
Lizzie stole a glance at me and in her look was one of disapproval. This perplexed me because if I had done something wrong she would have said something in the moment it had happened. Even though I was the “Massa’s son,” she never let me get away with anything. After Lizzie left the room, my mother turned to me.
“Thomas,” she began, “I know you’ve been having difficulty with your father lately. He can be stubborn when he believes himself to be right. You two are very much alike in that regard. But you have to understand, whatever growing fondness you have for the slaves…well, they’re misplaced. You’re too attached, especially when it comes to Jeyne.”
My body tensed. “If this is about Marcus, I explained the reasons for what happened and they’re quite simple.”
“You overreacted.”
“Mother, I’m not going to let anyone come to our home and do harm to the people I care about,” I said. “Marcus was trying to attack Jeyne and I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen.”
“I understand, but you nearly broke his arm!” she said, aghast.
“And I’d do it again if I have to.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. In the future, let’s refrain from getting too emotional. After all, they’re slaves, Thomas.”
“No, they’re more than that,” I protested. “They’re a part of our lives. To treat them differently is like asking the water to stop flowing down the river.”
“I understand your point. But these are the times we live in. This isn’t the North.”
“But this isourplantation and we can be different.”
“Different, in what way?”
I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t bring myself to say the words. There were many things I wanted to say but I offered something simpler instead.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What I do know is that I can’t change who I am. And in all honesty, I’m not interested in carrying on this legacy. I’ve thought about this for some time now.”
“I see,” she replied. “Have you spoken to your father about this?”
“I already know what he’s going to say.”
“He might surprise you.”
“I doubt it.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
“Study law, perhaps.”
“I guess it’s as honorable a profession as any,” she said softly. “But we don’t have to discuss all of this now. There will be plenty of time for that later.”
She reached for a small, brown parcel that had been sitting on the table next to the divan and handed it to me.
“In spite of everything that has been going on, I thought this might be of some use to you,” she said.
I opened the parcel and saw in my lap a soft, brown leather diary with my initials engraved neatly on the cover in gilt.
“Maybe you can express your thoughts and feelings in here,” she said.
“Oh, Mother...thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome,” she murmured as I gave her a big hug. She looked at me with deep understanding which made me appreciate her even more. She was my protector even when she disagreed with me.
“Now run along,” she added, on the brink of tears. “I have letters to write.”
