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.”“Julia!” I was shocked.She laughed.“Well, it’s part of life, isn’t it? And it’s certainly part of marriage.Where do you think babies come from?”“You shouldn’t talk about such things.It isn’t proper.”“Phooey! Who cares about being proper? Do you think Rosalie is in love with her new husband?”“I never heard her say that she loves him.Just that she thought he’d make a good husband.”Julia sighed dramatically.“I could never marry a man I wasn’t in love with, could you, Caroline? It would be awful to share a bed with him otherwise.”“I wish you would stop talking about.that.”“What? Sharing a bed with my husband?” She laughed at me again.“I sometimes pretend that my pillow is Nathaniel Greene and I hug it tightly all night.Who do you pretend yours is?”“I.I’ve never done that.”“Haven’t you ever been in love, Carrie?”Hadn’t I? I recalled the excitement of my infatuation with my cousin Jonathan years ago, how I’d wanted to spend every minute with him, how I’d thrilled to his touch.But I had long since outgrown those feelings.And I had felt nothing close to them since— certainly not with Robert, nor with any of the other men I’d danced with.I’d once heard love in Tessie’s joyful laughter when she was with Josiah.I’d seen love in Julia’s eyes when she gazed at Nathaniel.But I had never known it firsthand.“I’ve never been in love,” I said at last.“Oh, poor you!”Later, when I was back in my own bed, I tried hugging my pillow, pretending it was my husband.But the pillow had no face, and it seemed wrong, somehow, to even imagine such a thing.The next day, Robert insisted on accompanying Julia, Rev.Greene, and me to our regular abolition meeting.As soon as we entered the assembly hall, we saw that it was not only packed, but also cloaked in an atmosphere of secrecy and danger.The guest speaker was a young Negro man named Peter Sullivan, a newly escaped slave.He was on his way to freedom in Canada, but he could be arrested and sent back to Mississippi if he was discovered speaking to us.Peter was a quiet, sullen young man whose smoldering resentment reminded me of Josiah.He had never spoken in public before, so the society’s president interviewed him about his escape.After a few preliminary questions the president asked, “What made you decide to take the risk and escape, Peter?”“I leave after I find out who my father is.” He stared at his feet, as if to hide his shame.“He a white man.I find out Massa Sullivan my father.”I heard a collective gasp in the meeting hall.All the usual rustling and shuffling stilled.“How did you find this out, Peter?”He lifted his head, gazing out at the sea of white faces.But it was as if he was looking through all of us.“My mama tell me so.Ain’t nothing she can do about him, either.Any time he want her, she have no choice.”I was certain that I wasn’t the only woman who was blushing.Julia stared at the man, her mouth hanging open.Robert wiped his sweating palms on his thighs.I didn’t dare look at Rev.Greene.“Peter,” the president said quietly, “I think the audience should know that your story is by no means unique.White masters have the right to use slave women for their own purposes any time they please, and many of these unions have produced mixed-race children.”A memory stirred from long ago—the old Negro granny at Hilltop, asking which heaven the little black children with white daddies would go to when they died.I hadn’t understood the question at the time, but now that I did, I felt another rush of heat to my face.Surely not my Uncle William.surely not.“So for most of your life, Peter, you didn’t know who your father was?”“Mama scared to tell me.She say a Negro woman be killed for telling.”I finally understood Eli’s fear when I’d asked him about Grady’s father.“Never ask.They kill a gal if she tell.” I hadn’t thought about Grady for a long time, but I let my mind wander away from this embarrassing subject and allowed myself to think about him now.The deep grief I felt at losing my friend was still there after more than six years.I missed him.He would be fifteen now and nearly grown.He’d been my only friend as I was growing up, except for Jonathan.I smiled to myself when I remembered how alike they were, the same sparkling dark eyes, the same mischievous grin.“My skin nearly as light as Massa’s white sons,” I heard Peter say.“I know I can pass for white.That’s how I escape.”Grady had been a very light-skinned Negro, too.A shade lighter than Tessie, several shades lighter than his ebony-skinned father, Josiah.“.child cannot be lighter-skinned than his parents,” the interviewer said.“And so a lighter skin shade, like Peter’s, is an indication of mixed race.”His words hit me with the force of a physical blow.How could Grady be Josiah’s son if his skin was so much lighter? As I struggled to work out a logical explanation, another thought forced its way into my dazed mind.My cousin Jonathan resembled my father.What if the reason Jonathan reminded me so much of Grady was because.because.Cold dread rose up inside me.I began to tremble as if my entire body was trying to reject the thought.It couldn’t be true.My daddy would never do such a terrible thing.“.and so Peter’s very own white father kept his son bound in the chains of slavery.”I couldn’t breathe.I needed air.I stood to leave, to run out of the meeting hall, but when I took the first step I felt as if all the blood had drained from my body.The world went black.I woke up outside in Robert’s arms.He was sitting on the grass with me, frantically repeating my name.“Caroline! Caroline!.Please, God [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]