Mary Grace’s Story

 

MARY GRACE COULDN’T REMEMBER A time when Willow wasn’t in her life.

When they were small girls, she’d found Willow hiding in the closet of her room, sobbing. Concerned, she knelt beside her and asked her what was wrong. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Willow told her what devastated her so. Willow had asked her father if Mary Grace could have a bed like hers in her room. Her father had grabbed her roughly by the arm and shook her, saying Mary Grace was simply a toy to keep her out of his hair, and not to forget that.

Mary Grace’s thoughts ran forward to a time when they were ten years old or so; they were having a tea party in the sitting room. Mammy had made them little sandwiches and cakes to eat with their hot lemon and honey water.

Willow held her teacup with her pinkie finger pointed out and said in a grown-up tone, “Miss Mary Grace, I do suggest we do this more often.”

“Why, yes, Miss Willow, I believe that is a splendid idea.” Mary Grace lifted her chin slightly. Taking her cue, Willow straightened her posture to make herself appear taller.

“It’s been a delightful afternoon, if I must say so myself.” Willow dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

“That it has, my dear,” Mary Grace said.

They looked at each other, not sure what to say next or which words would make them seem like sophisticated ladies. After a few moments of stale silence, Willow sighed and dramatically slid down on the sofa, flipping her head against the back of it. “This adult playing is exhausting.”

Mary Grace sighed with relief as she let her shoulders relax. “Yes, it’s boring. What should we play now?”

“Let’s go to my room and I will read to you,” Willow suggested.

Willow loved to read; she said it helped her escape to a different world. Mary Grace cherished the times when they were in Willow’s room; they would lay on Willow’s luxurious bed and she would read to Mary Grace for hours. In Willow’s books, they would travel the world, face many obstacles, and enjoy many adventures.

That afternoon Willow sat on her window seat. Mary Grace stretched out on the floor on her stomach, her ankles crossed in the air and her mind whirling with excitement as Willow’s smooth voice poured out the words of The Three Musketeers.

She hadn’t noticed that Willow had stopped reading until she said, “I have a brilliant idea, Mary Grace. Why don’t I teach you to read?” She bounced up with enthusiasm.

Mary Grace was astounded by her sudden suggestion, and apprehensive, as she knew it was strictly forbidden; a slave would be put to death if anyone found out. “I don’t know, Miss Willow, your father won’t like that. He already thinks we be joined at the hip.”

“Not ‘we be,’ Mary Grace, you must say ‘we are.’ If you are going to be an educated black woman, you must speak with proper grammar so people learn to respect you,” Willow said, conviction shining in her dark green eyes.

“Your father would be angry if he found out,” Mary Grace said again, but she knew her expression betrayed her anticipation.

“Well, we will keep it our secret, then.” The headstrong Willow had made up her mind.

Every day afterward, she dedicated herself to teaching Mary Grace to read. Willow said she was a brilliant student and caught on fast.

For a slave girl, Mary Grace was happy and had never known what fear truly was in her life on the Livingston Plantation. Besides a few trips into town with Willow, she had never been off the plantation. Mammy prohibited her from getting a pass to visit friends on the surrounding plantations. Mammy had been the best mama a girl could ever ask for, and Mary Grace didn’t want to cause her extra worry or stress, so she abided by her wishes.

In her teenage years, though, Mary Grace became frustrated at the restrictions Mammy placed on her life. In her mind, she believed Mammy wanted to make her miserable. One day, after Mammy’s refusal to let her go with her friends, she cried until her eyes were empty of tears, but Mammy stood firm.

“You don’t want me to be happy!” Mary Grace wailed.

“Yes, chile, dat is what I do. I set out every morn to ruin your life,” she said sarcastically, and threw her hands in the air with as much drama as her daughter.

“Mama, please, I must go. All the others say I’m a spoiled black princess and you keep me tied to your apron strings. I’m the laughing stock of the whole plantation.” She repeated what she’d heard the old gossipy hags say on washing days. “‘Oh, look at Miss Fancy Pants, too good for the laks of us. All kept up in dat big house, hidden away lak she is a china doll.’” Mary Grace would snatch the laundry from them to hang on the line and stick out her tongue as she left. She knew it wasn’t polite or right, but neither were their mean words.

“Mama, how do you suppose I’ll ever marry or give you grandbabies if you don’t allow me to go to these dances and gatherings?”

“Chile, de folkses over on de Armstrong Plantation shows up here at leas’ once a month. You will not go unwed.” Mammy turned the dough with a little extra force; the kitchen house echoed the loud smack. Her daughter’s whining had started to wear on her.

Mary Grace felt remorse as she saw Mammy’s shoulders sag. She was a good mother, and Mary Grace couldn’t imagine having any other. “I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t understand why you hold me so close. Why do you fear so, Mama?”

Her mama started to knead the dough harder. “I jus’…” She stopped kneading and turned to Mary Grace, her shoulders curled forward and her head lowered. “I guess et be time to have de talk wid you. I knowed one day it would come.” She sat down with a thud on the wooden bench at the end of the small table.

Mary Grace sucked in her breath as dread filled her; her intuition told her what Mammy was about to say was going to be life-changing.

“I was taken from what was left of my family jus’ ’fore I had my fust bleed, and sold at auction. De man who bought me had eyes full of lust. His eyes et up my body as he luked me over from head to toe. I ’member holding myself real tight-lak, tryin’ to cover my new buddin’ breasts. I seed what mens wid dat luk in deir eyes done to young gals ’fore.

“I walked de five miles to my new home wid de other slaves purchased dat day, tied to de back of his horse. A home dat would become my nightmare.” She hung her head as she twisted her floured hands in her lap. “Masa Adams made advances toward me over de next few years, but I allus managed to escape.

“Happiness entered my life when de masa brought a slave home dat catch me eye. Dere be somepin’ ’bout this black as coal man dat drew me in. He be an African prince dey called Big John. He was a gentle giant. My walls came down and I was able to love again. We came to love each other and as de masa became more desperate to have me, I know I don’t want my fust time to be lak dat. I begged Big John to marry me and make my fust time wid a man be one of love. I married me my African prince, under de stars before God.

“Den came de night I wasn’t so lucky—de masa catch me alone. He took me with force. De pain I felt as he drove his manhood into my body parts was de worst thing you can ever imagine. I bled for days and my insides were torn and damaged. Big John feared I may never have chillun.” She lifted her face, which was filled with an unimaginable agony, and the tears poured down her cheeks as she relived the rape. “I begged God to save me from dis torture. When no savin’ came over de next few years, my prayers turned to axin’ de Lord Almighty to take my life. ’Most nightly he tuk me in whatever way he could. I larned to never ’low my mind to go to de pain of what was being done to me, I larned not to fight back, ’cause et be de fight dat drove him wild wid lust.

“Den I became pregnant wid you, seeded by de masa. I was eaten up wid anger and bitterness but John helped me wuk through dat. We decided if you be born a girl, you would be called Mary Grace. And if you be a boy, we would call you Matthew, meaning gift from God. As you grew inside me a love I never felt ’fore stirred in me. I swore to protect you, to die before I ever let de sins forced on my body be done to you. You and John give me hope and somepin’ to live for.

“Big John and I prayed you come out real dark, but you come out a white babe for sho’. We knowed what would come next and sho’ ’nuf, de missus had you and me sold as quick as nothin’.” She peered up at her daughter while wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron.

Mary Grace stood with her soapy hands hanging in fists at her sides. A rage she’d never experienced before awakened in her.

Mammy continued. “Not a day goes by dat I don’t long for my John. But den evvyday I thank de good Lord dat de missus sold us, ’cause dis here life at Livingston be a good one. Et’s as good a life a slave can ever have. Masa Hendricks don’t use his slave womens in de ways of other masas and he sho’ mussy.”

Mary Grace felt ashamed for testing Mammy’s rules and the fears guiding them. She closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her mama, and her tears trickled into the warmth of her thick neck. “Please forgive me, Mama. I’ve been such a selfish and horrible daughter. I never stopped to wonder why you were so strict with me. I thought you wanted to confine me, to keep me a child.”

“No, gal, I want you to have a full life. I want dat purty face of yours to not be hung low wid worry or dose beautiful eyes filled wid pain.”

“I see that now, Mama. I will not test you so.”

“You’re a good gal, but your free spirit will be de death of me.” Mama chuckled, brushing a stray hair back out of Mary Grace’s face.

“I love you, Mama,” she whispered. “Thank you for giving your life to protect me.”

That hard conversation changed Mary Grace’s outlook on the world. She now viewed it without the sense of safety she once had. It gave her a new understanding of Mammy’s reaction when Masa’s friends visited the plantation. Now she knew why Mammy shut her up in her room until they left.

Then love came into her life in the form of a handsome slave. She first met Gray when he attended a gathering of the slaves at the Livingston Plantation.

At the end of the night she ran to Willow’s room and collapsed on her bed, breathless and flushed with excitement. She lay staring at the ceiling for several seconds, then squealed and kicked her legs in the air in an unladylike manner.

“Good Lord, Mary Grace, what has gotten into you?” Willow asked, appalled at her odd behavior.

Mary Grace couldn’t contain herself. She giggled, bubbling over with joy. “I met a young man tonight.”

Willow’s shock turned to pure delight. She demanded that Mary Grace share every detail of the evening with her—especially a full description of Gray.

Over the next few years, her and Gray’s relationship blossomed—and now she was his wife. She dreamed of having many babies with him. She longed for a time when they could see each other every day and spend their nights together in the same bed as a married couple, but until then she would savor the nights they got to lie in each other’s arms.

Gray said someday he hoped to buy his freedom from Masa Bowden. Mary Grace questioned why he would ever dream of the impossible. He told her it was no more impossible than them staying in the same shack at night. They could dream, he said. Masa Bowden wasn’t the same as other masas. Gray had become his most trusted slave. He’d been saving every coin he earned. And someday hoped to buy her freedom, too.

Freedom was what every slave longed for, but she knew she could never leave Willow and Mammy behind…not even if the price was her freedom.