1879
By mid-January, it was cold enough for hog killing. Al hated the nasty job, one of the most unpleasant things about the farm business. It didn’t matter how early he got out to the back lot, Hébert and Mundy were always there working by the light of a half–dozen lanterns. Well before daylight, all the families showed up ready for a long day. Water boiled in black pots, and the first hog was strung up and ready to be gutted.
Amelia came as she had for every hog killing since she arrived. That first time, when he had been in New Orleans, Hébert told him that her appearance surprised them all. “She said that when she grew up in Germany, she and her sister had prepared the schweinwursthüllen for the sausage.” Hébert laughed, “You should have seen that little gal reach for a long gut. She held it up for Mama to pour in the water and massage the shit into a pot.” He shrugged, “After that, Amelia became part of the crew, cleaning and turning the casings without tearing a single one.”
By mid-morning, the women had stuffed the casings with the ground meat and fat. The children scraped the coarse hairs that remained on the scalded hog flesh. The men continued butchering and cutting the meat, salting it for the smokehouse.
The shout from the road caused the work to stop, and all eyes turned to Stephen Hackman, his coat collar pulled up to the brim of his hat. “I ran into Toby in Camptown. He asked me to let you know Mama Zoé’s had a spell with her heart. He thinks you better come.”
Hébert took off his blood-stained apron and nodded when Mundy said, “You go to the house and get cleaned. Me and the boys will hitch the wagon.” Mundy called to Al and Amelia who were heading home. “We’ll get your buggy, Mister Al.”
Amelia lifted her skirt, ignoring her drawers peeking from under her heavy coat and climbed, agile as a girl onto the carriage seat. They pulled onto the road behind Hébert and Regina rounding the bend ahead of them. Al reached for his wife’s leather-gloved hand under the wool blanket. “Hébert’s going to need Regina right now. He’s awful close to his mama.”
“Regina told me she never much worried about not having children. Now that Ezra’s gone, she wants to try extra hard.”
Al circled his arm around Amelia. “I wouldn’t mind trying real hard.”
“How I wish it could be.” She buried her face against his shoulder, and he was immediately sorry he had made her ache for their lost past. “I’m pretending Toby is ours, imagining little Albert growing up to be that good man.” He squeezed her tighter, kissed the line of her hair along her forehead.
When they pulled up to the white fence fronting the Chambers’ house, a small crowd waited on the porch and milled around the yard. A man patted Al on the back. “You made it in time. She’ll be mighty happy.”
Toby stood at the foot of the bed, hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets. Ella sat stone-still on the side of the bed holding Mama Zoé’s hand against her wet cheek. Hébert and Regina knelt on the opposite side. He stroked his mama’s forehead and hair so white that it shocked Al. She’d always worn one of the colorful tignons. He’d not seen her hair in years, if ever. Without the color of the head cloth, she looked pale, so fair she could have passed if she’d walked away. He reached for Amelia’s arm. Was it to comfort her or steady himself?
The gray eyes opened wide; the words came clear and firm. “How’s my house?”
Amelia bent with him beside the bed. “We turned your garden.” She lifted Mama Zoé’s long, graceful fingers to her lips. “It’s ready when the weather warms.”
Hébert cupped his hand over the top of his mama’s head, holding in the life. His face against her cheek, he spoke in French––a soothing melodic chant. Her gaze held her boy; her lips formed a faint smile as the light faded in her eyes. The only sound was a choking sob that escaped Hébert.
Ella rocked silently and then leaned against Al. She’d been orphaned again. He stroked her wet cheeks.
While Amelia and the other women prepared the body, Al rode with Toby to get a coffin. He laid a gloved hand over his son’s raw, red knuckles. “Take my gloves. I’ve got an extra pair in my pocket.”
“Please. Don’t hover. I may look like a shriveled-up turd, but I’ve never felt so vital. Working with the indigent at Mass General or Brigham and Women’s, I could walk away. Someone always picked up the slack. I could go with the guys over to Haymarket Square, eat chowder and drink beer, forget what happened at the hospital for an evening. It’s not like that here.”
“A candle can burn only so long.” Al saw the flash of anger in Toby’s eyes before he turned to back the wagon to the funeral home door. And he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
When they returned, Ella wrapped an azure tignon around Mama Zoé’s head and stepped aside for Hébert to scoop his mama into his arms and lay her in the mahogany coffin. He reached for Ella’s hand. “She’s still our beautiful mama.”
“She was my real mama.” Ella leaned against Hébert, her face buried in his chest. His big hand covered her head like a blessing.
Toby hitched his mare to the rear of their buggy and squeezed in beside Amelia. He stared ahead at the wagon carrying the casket resting amid cedar boughs bound with ribbons and the last of the season’s roses from someone’s yard. “Look at Ella. She’s lost everyone, and she’s still thanking folks lining the street to pay respects.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I can’t imagine how alone she must feel.”
Amelia laid her hand on Toby’s back. “I’m glad she’s staying at the Chambers. They’ll nurture her.”
“She told me recently that she’s saved enough money to build a house on her family’s lot. But, she didn’t want to move Mama Zoé away from Miss Beulah.”
Al studied his son’s face and wondered what was going on in his head. For someone so smart, he appeared dumb as a jackass about Ella. Doctoring and that Boston girl had made him blind.
They lit lamps on the wagons and allowed the animals to pick their way home by the light of a half moon. They carried the casket into Mama Zoé’s parlor for the night vigil.
Wrapped in her shawl, Ella huddled on the settee and stared into the blazing fireplace. “Mama loved this house and all its windows. Then she gave it up for me.”
They gathered the next morning beside Ezra’s grave where the mound of dirt hadn’t yet settled. Ella and Regina stood like bulwarks on each side of Hébert. His voice was soft as it carried like a balm over the crowd. “You young ones don’t know how Mama Zoé’ held us together during those years before freedom.”
“Yes.” The response sounded from the crowd like the soft touch of a kettle drum.
“She was our buffer against the meanness.”
“Yes.” The murmur grew, and heads streaked white nodded.
“She made sure we were all baptized.”
“Praise the Lord.”
“Over long nights, she carved a rosary for every newborn.”
“Mmm,” Sounded like a bass chorus.
A trembling smile creased his face. “I promised her I’d keep up my French. So, you kids aren’t going to escape your lessons.”
Amid the scattering of laughter, Al’s thoughts drifted to the early days when he came to the plantation. Days when Charles lay bedridden in a small room on the far side of the house from Samantha. Mama Zoé climbed those steep stairs from the lower level with trays of hot food and fed the man who never freed her. Oftentimes when he stepped into the hall, he heard their voices—always low, a soothing sound. When Charles died, Mama Zoé stood near the back of the circle of family and slaves. If she cried, he did not see her. Samantha did not cry until some of the neighbors offered comfort. Then she fainted.
The first snow of the year began to powder the two graves and settled on the hats and umbrellas of the crowd. Al tried not to show his concern, which bordered on irritation, when Toby and Ella insisted on returning to Brenham. “It may be worse by morning,” Toby said. “If we leave now, we’ll be in before dark.” He lifted Ella who appeared to melt against his touch onto the top of the saddlebags. She clasped his back, staring at the veil of snow.
Al looked into his wife’s weary eyes. “Do you think he’s rushing back to patients, or rushing away from me?”
Her sigh sounded like a low moan. “Some of both.