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as I sat and read the newspaper. Mother and Elizabeth hadn’t come down yet so I took in the moment’s solitude.
“Lizzie, why do you insist on doing everything yourself?”
“Like you, I need a moment to myself to think,” she said. “Once Miss Mary and Miss Elizabeth come down, I’ll ask for help.”
She put a biscuit on a small plate and set it in front of me.
“Ain’t nobody said you can’t nibble before they come.”
I looked at her and we exchanged smiles.
“I have a feeling we gon’ need more supplies,” she said in a low tone. “Word gon’ travel fast with those looking to go north.”
“I planned for that.”
“Good.”
“Who can you trust to help you other than Fannie and Patrick?”
“Not too many. Folks are weak as they are stupid. And you can’t trust either one.”
Lizzie moved away when she saw my mother enter. I immediately rose and held out her chair. As I did so, she stumbled against me.
“Mother, is everything alright?”
She smiled at me but it was quite clear that something was wrong. The pain on her face was visible despite her attempts to hide it. She placed a delicate hand on mine and a chill went through me.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I just need a bit of Lizzie’s fine food to get me off to a good start.”
Lizzie had a tray of coffee and tea in her hand but there was no mistaking the look of worry on her face, too.
“Mother, let’s get Lizzie to mix up something new for you. Your hands are freezing.”
“What do you expect, Thomas?” she said in amazement. “It’s not easy keeping every corner of this over-embellished house warm.”
I blinked in surprise. My mother rarely showed her irritation. She was always the calm in the storm.
“I’m just concerned about you, that’s all,” I said, as I laid the cloth napkin across my lap. “I want what’s best for you and-”
“Thomas, your mother is quite capable of taking care of herself,” Elizabeth said impatiently as she entered the room. “She doesn’t need another slave potion.”
The room went still for a moment as Elizabeth stood in the entryway of the dining area. Something was wrong. The look in her eyes was deep and penetrating as if she were accusing me of an unspoken transgression. The tenderness we had experienced the night before had been replaced with something dark undefinable. She was challenging me and I reacted.
“Some people actually love their mothers,” I said to her. And as I recall, you didn’t complain about thoseslavepotions when you were sick last month.”
Elizabeth walked to the table in a huff and waited for me to pull out her chair but I just sat there.
“Thomas...”
I rose upon hearing my mother’s voice and reluctantly pulled out Elizabeth’s chair.
I tried to eat but found I no longer had an appetite. Mother was ill and needed some care. I was deeply concerned about my mother but it was obvious that Elizabeth had no empathy or understanding. Underneath the beauty, she was still the selfish, little girl I grew up with.
What little I felt like eating, I did in a deliberate rush. The sky outside was opaque and there were clouds in the distance. As a plantation owner, heavy rains were mixed blessings. You needed the rain to survive but too much of it could ruin crops.
As if reading my mind mother said, “I’m hoping for a beautiful day instead of rain,” she said. “I’d like to plant some flowers.”
“Miss Mary, that’s what the slaves are for.”
