At the beginning of May, two weeks after I began as houseboy, David White returned home with his new bride. Her name was Phoebe. The day she was to arrive, all the slave people lined up in a row at the bottom of the veranda steps to receive her. We all wore our cleanest and best clothes. Because I was the houseboy I stood at the top of the stairs with a fan in my hand for her, though it was not hot. Everyone was curious.
“Wonder what kind of woman Mrs. White be like?”
“Hope she is not a tyrant.”
“Nothing worse than a mean missis.”
“Maybe she can prevent Captain Barker from being so evil.”
“I hear she is very young.”
Some of us said nothing, masking our disquiet. We heard the neighing of the horses before the carriage crested the hill between David White’s plantation and the road. Soon the horses stamped into the yard and up to the house. My master alighted, his carrot-colored hair glistening in the sun. He walked around the carriage and opened the door. Mrs. White descended to earth. She was tall, almost as tall as her husband. She wore a sky-blue dress with a pearl-studded belt. Her hair, black as midnight, was piled high on top of her head.
Our master and new mistress walked along the row of slave people, and we all chanted “morning, Missis,” “welcome, Missis,” over and over. But she kept her head high, and looked straight ahead, as if we were invisible. She climbed the steps and reached the porch, where I stood at attention. “Morning, Missis. Welcome, Missis,” I intoned.
She looked at me and her eyes came to life. “Well, wonders never cease,” she said. Then she walked toward the front door with her husband. My mother held it open for her to enter her new home. “Morning, Missis. Welcome, Missis.”
T
The very day that Phoebe White landed at David White’s plantation she took a dislike to me, my mother and my brothers. When John and George came bringing firewood to the kitchen, Phoebe happened to see them and asked who they were.
“Milly’s sons,” Suzette told her.
She flew into a rage. “Milly doesn’t own anyone or anything.”
She asked the boys to come closer, observed them. John had the same pasty white skin as her husband, and the identical red hair. The resemblance was unmistakable. She told them to leave the house.
After that, Mrs. White got upset every time she saw them, even from afar. She had banned them from entering the house, and turned her spite on me. I worked well to avoid criticism and punishment, but my work was never good enough for her. If someone knocked at the door more than twice, because I was not at the door right away, she would beat me with an old shoe. She had me polish the silver time after time even though everything sparkled. After my mother cleaned and polished the house, Mrs. White made me do it again. At nights, I was so tired that I wished never to wake up.
I had to bring the tyrant her breakfast in bed. One morning, she declared the tea too cold and threw it in my face. It was not cold; it scalded my skin. She also turned her wrath on my poor mother, who lived in torment. Nothing my mother did was good enough, and our mistress took pleasure in humiliating her in front of our master.
One evening, when master and mistress sat down to supper, mistress tasted a stew and declared that the meat was rotten. “How dare you think I would eat this?” she screamed at my mother. She then threw the bowl of food across the room. All my master did was to pat her hand and say, “Calm down, my dear. Milly will make something else.”
Finally, things came to a boil between them. Phoebe claimed that a piece of her jewelry was missing and accused my mother of stealing it. She threatened to have her arrested, even sold. David White promised to buy her an even bigger jewel, but she would not be placated. “I want you to send that nigger from the house. I cannot stand the sight of her. Put her in the field.”
And so Phoebe got her revenge. David White sent my mother to the fields. However, though she was not used to that kind of work, she saw it as a blessing to be out of the way of both master and mistress.
But Phoebe White was not yet satisfied. Next, she insisted her husband hire out my two brothers, his sons. And he did, to two farmers in LaGrange. Shadrach was upset because my brothers were making progress as apprentice smiths, and it broke my mother’s heart to see her children scattered.