Chapter 16

May 17, 1864

Sunlight slips through the cracks of the cabin. It brightens the glimmer in Tempe’s eyes, the shine on Mama’s hairpins, the crooked stitch in the cloth between my fingers. We’ve been working through much of the night. I take the stitch out and start again.

“How do I look?” Tempe twirls slow; a pirouette of lace, lavender, and flowers. Flower petals in her hair, flower petals on her wrists, flower petals on her feet. Pink rose and lavender petals adorn her hair, her gown, her belly.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

“She sure does.”

“I do, don’t I?” Tempe laughs with her hands on her hips.

“Stop moving so much. I need to check a few things first,” Mama says.

Tempe closes her eyes while Mama realigns pleats and smooths creases. Mama’s shaking hands brush Tempe’s belly. Tempe jumps.

“Tempe? There’s something different about you.”

“Maybe she’s nervous about the wedding,” I say.

“No,” Mama shakes her head slowly, “that’s not it.”

“Maybe she ate something that don’t agree with her.”

Mama’s lips twist like they do when she smells something rotting like a piece of meat, some curdling milk, or a lie. “You complaining about my cooking?”

“No, ma’am, ain’t nothing wrong with your cooking.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Tempe shakes her head.

Mama raises a hand to Tempe’s face, presses her forehead to Tempe’s forehead and with her eyes closed she feels Tempe’s belly. Tears roll down her cheeks. “It must really be a miracle,” she says. “All them ointments and elixirs and you still with child.” She puts her head to Tempe’s belly.

Tempe’s staring at me over Mama’s head, daring me to say something. Without asking why, I drank every drop, rubbed every dollop. And I ain’t never gonna have a baby of my own. Not one drop crossed Tempe’s lips. Not one sliver slipped inside her. She’s the one been lying for years. She’ll have Edward and a baby and her freedom. What’s left for me?

They so wrapped up in each other’s arms that they don’t notice me go. I don’t want to but my feet lead me straight to the river. The cool grass cushions my feet. I sit on the bank, legs dangling. The river kisses my soles. Don’t know how long I been crying when I feel a hand on my shoulder. He sits down next to me, quiet as a keep. Even though I don’t expect to hear nothing but how everything’s gonna turn out alright, I tell him everything. James listens in silence and after a few minutes, he does the same. He tells me things I won’t believe until years later when Tempe tells me they true. By the time I get back to the cabin, Samantha and Rose are there. Mama and Tempe stand on the porch still fawning over one another.

“She’s gonna have a baby,” Mama says. “A free child.”

“Half free,” Samantha says. She’s wearing a limp flower in her hair; her special occasions hat.

“Long as Tempe a slave, that baby’s a slave,” Rose says.

“Yep, a little free baby,” Mama says. She nods her head like she and Rose said the exact same thing. “It’s time to have a wedding!”

There are gifts: flowers with long stems, a thick homemade quilt, thin shells and words. One by one they lay hands on Tempe covering her in prayers.

“Lord, may this child know your undying love and unwavering mercy in her times of need,” Rose says.

“Yahweh, may she never forget to praise your name,” Samantha says.

“Lord, let this baby be born free,” Mama says.

Before leading the women’s march to the river, Tempe gives me a quick hug. I hold on too long. The sun shines but it’s not warm. The air is cool; crisp enough to hurry our steps. Tempe’s eyes are covered with a thick cloth. According to Samantha, slaves been getting married like this for generations. Can’t nobody prove she’s wrong. Samantha twirls Tempe round and round till she’s about dizzy. She pushes her forward. “Your heart will lead the way,” she says. “If Edward is the man for you, your heart will lead you to him.” She covers all of our eyes with scraps of cloth.

We walk slowly behind, trusting Tempe will know the way. Blindfolded, the walk from the cabin to the river is a lot longer than I remember. Every so often Tempe hollers for us to duck down, watch our heads, move a bit to the side. Nettles stick to the bottoms of my feet. More than once she leads us straight through a briar patch or bed of pine needles. Over the years, our feet done worn paths all through the woods, the grass, around the fields. She can’t seem to find none of them. She stumbles and falls. We stumble and fall. She gets up and slips. We get up and slip. She seems to be able to find all the leftover slick mud. Gnats swarm around my head. My hair gets snagged in tree branches. Bushes prick my legs. We circle back twice before reaching the same long, spongy slick of grass leading to the mud we done slid in twice already. This time, Tempe leads us around it. I ain’t the only one happy about that. Mama starts to hum. We all get to walking and humming and then Tempe stops.

There’s a loud splash, followed by another. Chattering chipmunks, songs of wild birds and cheers of the men drown out Tempe’s squeals and Edward’s laughter. I uncover my eyes. Tempe jumps in the river. Edward in a pressed shirt and new dungarees runs to the edge and jumps in. He splashes through the river, running to her and her just about gliding to him. He holds her like it’s forever. I believe it. Edward’s gonna buy Tempe’s freedom. They gonna save up and buy Mama and me. By the time the baby come we’ll have a cottage and land, a mule. We’ll be a family. Forever.