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“Try to save her now, nigger lover!” one of them shouted at me.
“We takin’ this nigga bitch with us!” said another.
“Yeah, she belongs to us and ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.”
Insults and commands continued to come from various directions. My vision became blurry as I struggled to unhinge my feet from the invisible vice. Once I did, I ran to Jeyne, but someone knocked me to the ground. The men laughed when I fell. The men closed in on Jeyne as she continued to struggle to try and free herself. The dogs barked ferociously and tried with all their might to sink their heavy teeth deep into her flesh. Despair gripped me and all I could see was Jeyne’s stricken face as they threw her in the back of the wagon, her hands reaching out to me, begging me to save her. I called out her name several times but it was clear she could no longer hear me above the wild barks of the dogs. I could only watch helplessly as the wagon moved further and further away.
“Jeyne!”
I sat up with a start, bathed in sweat. Looking wildly about the darkened room, I realized I had been dreaming that awful dream again, the same dream I had been having ever since my return to Bellevue. Fortunately, the spot beside me was empty and had been for almost a week. Elizabeth was still sleeping in the guestroom and I was grateful that I didn’t have to explain the nightmare away.
I threw back the bedcovers and rushed down the stairs to my study, fumbling around in the darkness for the secret hiding place that held the key to the top drawer of my desk. I hated this feeling and resolved that I would end it. I was going to destroy the memories lest they destroy me. I began ripping out pages of the diary like a madman, one by one, but a knock at the door interrupted me. A small light appeared in the doorway and there was Lizzie, carrying a lit candlestick. I stood there trying hard to control my shaking hands.
“Everything alright?” she asked.
“It was just a nightmare,” I told her.
Lizzie saw the diary in my hands. “Bad dreams ain’t nothing but the light trying to help us see,” she said solemnly.
“Right now I’m only seeing pain.”
“Because that’s what you feeling.”
“I don’t want to feel it anymore.”
“It’ll leave you when you ready,” she said. “Right now, we got passengers. They came in thirty minutes ago.”
“Alright. I’ll meet you down there.”
Lizzie shut the door quietly behind her and I was left alone to replay the images from the nightmare. I shook it off. I had to. Lizzie’s announcement reminded me that there was no time to keep holding onto the past. There was work to do in the present. I wasn’t able to help Jeyne get to freedom, but I could help others.
I left the den and quickly made my way up to my room to get dressed.
Chapter Nineteen
As Mary waited for Thomas in her private sitting room, she couldn’t help but notice her hands. They were thinner, her skin more transparent. She was aging at what seemed to be a rapid pace, and her breathing was coming in shorter. She tired quickly, especially during times of illness, so much so that she could not leave her room for days. Mary could feel the change. She knew she was nearing the end of her life and there was still much that needed to said.
The discovery of Jeyne’s letters had been on Mary’s mind for weeks, months even. She had played out Thomas’ reaction in her mind several times, knowing that, at the very least, he would resent William all over again. For William’s decision to sell Jeyne had been the gravest of all transgressions, echoing throughout the mansion in a way that no other sale of a slave had. The action had cut deep throughout the soul of Bellevue and the mourning lasted for what seemed like an eternity.
Lizzie, for her part, couldn’t eat or sleep. She could barely focus on her daily chores, and was bedridden off and on for months due to dizzy spells. No one could reach her mind or heal her heart. The recovery to normalcy was slow, and Mary was at her bedside every night during the more trying times. When Lizzie finally did gain her strength a year later, the depth of her contempt for William was full and sharp. William saw Lizzie’s actions as defiance and threatened to sell her. Mary warned William to practice leniency but he would not hear a word. Within days, William was stricken with a mysterious fever.
William could barely lift his arms as Lizzie stood over him holding a large, crude cup full of dark and foreign herbs. The fever hadn’t taken hold of him completely but the decline was beginning to show.
“You want me to save you, then you have to save me,” Lizzie said to him as he lay in bed nearly paralyzed.
“This isn’t right.”
“You selling Jeyne wasn’t right either but here we are. So, what you gon’ do?”
He swallowed hard. “I had to do it. It was for their own good...”
“What god told you that?” Her tone was bitter and sharp with anger.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“But you did,” Lizzie said. “And now you gon’ find her. And when you do, don’t you dare bring her back here to live in misery. What you gon’ do is set me free and send me to her.”
William paused as he considered Lizzie’s proposal. “I don’t know where she is now,” he said, his voice coming in short rasps. “She could be anywhere.”
