“I was born on a sugar plantation on Saint-Domingue. I grew up in the big house where Maman was cook. I was not chained or beaten, like those who worked in the fields. I learned my mother’s recipes and to sew and keep the house. I grew to fifteen and knew everything so well the master, Claude, made me keeper of the house.
“He had a wife, but she did not like the plantation, although it belonged to her family. They owned a bank in Port-au-Prince and she spent most of her time there.
“Soon, Claude came to my bed. He said he loved me and gave me a baby.
“When mon fils…my son, little Adam, was born, Claude promised the child would stay with us and not go to the fields and one day have a tutor and go to France for school and be free.
“But then storms came to ruin the sugar. Claude could not pay money he owed. He tried the gambling, but he lost and his debt grew. He sold all he owned: horses for racing, jewelry, furniture, books. Then he had nothing except for the house servants he owned when he married, including Maman.”
“Sounds like a real prince,” I say bitterly.
But my sarcasm is lost on her.
“Prince?” she asks dreamily. “Yes, I thought so. Such a strong, handsome man. So sure of himself and his future.”
I’ve never seen a face go from dreamy to bitter so fast.
“I was such a foolish, foolish little girl! A man came, from Charleston I think. Claude was so happy. He said the man would take his problems away. He gave me money to go to the general store some miles away to pay the debt. It was an hour, maybe two, to ride there. But on the way, the horse went lame and I came back. When I arrived, I saw Maman and little Adam, chained, in the man’s wagon.
“I ran to Claude. ‘What is this?’ I said.
“‘They are sold,’ Claude told me.
“I said, ‘No! You cannot!’
“Claude said he must or be jailed for debt.
“I said, ‘Sell me too! I cannot be away from my mother and son. Sell me with them!’
“He said no, I must stay to make more babies to replace what was sold. No one has ever made me so angry! I ran at him to beat him or kick him or—I don’t know what—I hated him so! But his foreman took hold of me and with one hit to my head I was … I lost … how do you say? Conscience?”
“Consciousness?”
“Yes. When I woke I was in the foreman’s hut in the cane field, tied with ropes. It was night. He was asleep. Drunk, I think, from rum. I got free and ran to the forest.
“I thought the buyer would take Maman and Adam to Port-au-Prince, so I went, hoping he would take me too. I walked three days to get there. I hid in woods and swamp if anyone came. My only food was wild mangoes. I waited for rain to drink because swamp water kills.
“Only one ship was there. I thought it must be taking Maman and Adam to America. Very late at night, I sneaked up to the ship—”
“It’s sneaked onto—”
“Mon dieu! Up to, into, onto! Make up your mind! So, I went down. But there were no slaves, only barrels. I heard someone and hid among them. I was so tired, I fell asleep. When I woke, we were at sea. I stayed behind those barrels for days. I came out only very late to steal food from the galley. Then I was caught and taken to the captain.
“He wanted to throw me to the sea, since it was illegal to bring blacks to France. But I said his cook gave him and his crew food fit only for pigs, and I could give better. I would make them the best meal ever and he could throw me over if it was not.
“As you can see, I did not drown. The captain liked my food so much he smuggled me through Le Havre to his home in Passy, just outside Paris, to cook for his family. But his wife was jealous and did not want me.
“They fought. She wanted to send me to the camps they have in France for illegal blacks. Then one night, Doctor Franklin came with his friend John Paul Jones. Doctor loved my cooking and came several more times and talked to me and the captain and his wife, and it was arranged: I would work for Doctor and the captain and his wife would get money for their trouble.
“When Doctor left for Philadelphia, I came with him. Now I work to pay back the money he paid the captain and for my passage here. When that is finished, I can begin saving to find my mother and my son.
“So, that is my story. Are you satisfied now, Mr. Nosy?”
I’m speechless. I’m awestruck. She is so brave and strong, but also so alone. I can’t help my heart from going out to her. I want to help her and make everything alright for her.
“I could give you the money Franklin pays me,” I say after a silence that seems like forever. “I’m not really using it—”
“Are you crazy? Why would you do that?”
“Maybe because I like you?”
“You are silly! A silly boy!” There is nothing affectionate about the way she says that. “I would never do that for you. Money is too dear. And I will not owe you.”
I keep my eyes to the ground. I can’t have her seeing how badly she’s wounded me. We walk in silence until just before reaching where the street is paved and lit.
“Hey boy,” she says, putting her hand out to stop me. “I am not for you. Do you understand?”
“No,” I say, stung and sullen.
“I am saying: there can be nothing between us.”
“Who says—”
“I see how you look at me. But I am Negro and you are white and the law says there can be nothing between us. Besides, I am too old for you.”
“No you’re not.”
“Very well. Then you are too young. I need either a man, or to be alone.”
“I’m a man.”
“Are you? I don’t know. But even if you were black, I know you are not for me.”
“How can you know that?”
“I know. You do not make me feel safe.”
No one has ever said anything like that to me before. It makes me feel sick, like I’ve just been punched in the stomach.
Putting up her hand like a cop halting traffic, she motions for me to stay where I am, hidden in the dark. I watch as she steps into the lamplight provided by Franklin’s globes, determined to do whatever I can to change her feelings.
***
We arrive home to a thoroughly annoyed Sally Bache.
“Where have you been, Elise? I said I could spare you for an hour. It’s been almost three. There’s bread that needs baking and linens to wash. Marcus, you’re to go straight to the library. He’s been calling for you every ten minutes, seems like.”
I found Franklin at his desk reading the transcripts I’d finished.
“Finally! Where were you? There’s work!”
“I went with Elise over to Mr. Carver’s.”
“Carver?”
“You know, the caretaker at the State House—”
“I know who Carver is,” Franklin says. “I hired him.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Did he now? And what else did you talk about?”
“Nothing. You shouldn’t be mad at him. He seemed grateful.”
“Why would I be angry with a man such as him? Wounded serving our cause? Employing him was the least I should do. Why were you at his home?”
“I went with Elise to hear the Reverend Jones and the Reverend Allen. They’re starting—”
“The Free African Society. Yes, I know,” he says brusquely.
“You don’t approve?”
“To the contrary: I think mutual aid societies excellent. What I don’t approve is you attending such a gathering, not in that part of town, not with you being white, and not with your knowledge of the future. I thought we agreed you weren’t to talk to anyone outside this house.”
“I didn’t,” I lie. “I just went with Elise to listen.”
Franklin searches my face with a sharp, appraising look.
“How did it go with Washington?” I ask.
“My meeting with General Washington was uncomfortable. You were the topic. Fortunately, the general is my friend and knows I need you. But as I said earlier, you must never again make such a demonstration; otherwise, I daresay you and I both will be forcibly removed from that Assembly Room. Do I have your promise?”
I have no other choice, unless it’s to spend my days cooped up in the house waiting for Franklin to figure out how to get me home.
“I promise,” I say.
“Good. Now, to work.”
“Wait a minute,” I say. “Not until you tell me how you’re going to get me back home.”
“I am working on it, Marcus.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“Yes, because it’s true.”