"Yes."
He grabs my wrist, lookin' round fo' any white skin. When he don't see none, he pulls me away from the crowd, still holdin' on to my arm- but real loose- his own hand too large to fit snugly. I watch his face, as he not lookin' at me- seein' a mixture of emotions cross it in jus' a matter of minutes. He look conflicted, confused, an' somethin' else I can't quite place. Probably it some emotion only black folk got.
"You sure you masta- daddy won't be mad?"
He sound nervous- which is weird comin' from 'is mouth. Every time I talk to 'em before- he sound so sure or angry, once a fake sad in order to make me real guilty. I smile fo' some strange reason, 'robably a mixture of me bein' all crazy, an' 'is weird tone, even though this ain't much of a funny subject. I start laughin' a little- earnin' a strange look, though I don't care really. I gonna learn 'ow to write- so I can send James my letter. When he get my letter- he gonna write back an' I'll be able to talk to my brother- someone who cares again. An' maybe I'll convince 'em to come home.
An' really, I jus' waitin' 'till he get back so I get someone to tell me they love me again. I miss those words- spoken in truth. An', righ' now, James may be the only one who can say it. I wan' 'im back 'ere. I miss 'em. I miss 'em real bad.
"I don' care," I say, "Meet me by the tree 'morrow night."
He nods, still lookin' at me like I've gone mad. Here I am, a white woman lookin' to a black man fo' help against my daddy. Maybe I am mad. It wouldn't be that hard to believe- seein' as I've been actin' an' thinkin' so strangely.
"Yeah."
I pull my hand away, reclaimin' it as my own. Even though he didn't grab me hard- I still rub my wrist, grabbin' it with my other hand. It's comfort, even though I don't really need it.
"Okay, be there righ' before sunset," I say, hopin' that maybe there will be 'nough light to see. There ain't no way he can come inta the house- an' there ain't no light in them slave shacks. Unless I brin' a candle- which I jus' might have to do. I'll jus' have to find a way to sneak it outside- maybe a lantern.
I find myself thinkin' so hard, that I don't move an' am just lookin' at Samuel- no words in my mouth. He don't say nothin' neither though, lookin' back at me like he thinkin' too. Eventually I walk away, lookin' back only once, seein' him starin' after me.
He grabs my wrist, lookin' round fo' any white skin. When he don't see none, he pulls me away from the crowd, still holdin' on to my arm- but real loose- his own hand too large to fit snugly. I watch his face, as he not lookin' at me- seein' a mixture of emotions cross it in jus' a matter of minutes. He look conflicted, confused, an' somethin' else I can't quite place. Probably it some emotion only black folk got.
"You sure you masta- daddy won't be mad?"
He sound nervous- which is weird comin' from 'is mouth. Every time I talk to 'em before- he sound so sure or angry, once a fake sad in order to make me real guilty. I smile fo' some strange reason, 'robably a mixture of me bein' all crazy, an' 'is weird tone, even though this ain't much of a funny subject. I start laughin' a little- earnin' a strange look, though I don't care really. I gonna learn 'ow to write- so I can send James my letter. When he get my letter- he gonna write back an' I'll be able to talk to my brother- someone who cares again. An' maybe I'll convince 'em to come home.
An' really, I jus' waitin' 'till he get back so I get someone to tell me they love me again. I miss those words- spoken in truth. An', righ' now, James may be the only one who can say it. I wan' 'im back 'ere. I miss 'em. I miss 'em real bad.
"I don' care," I say, "Meet me by the tree 'morrow night."
He nods, still lookin' at me like I've gone mad. Here I am, a white woman lookin' to a black man fo' help against my daddy. Maybe I am mad. It wouldn't be that hard to believe- seein' as I've been actin' an' thinkin' so strangely.
"Yeah."
I pull my hand away, reclaimin' it as my own. Even though he didn't grab me hard- I still rub my wrist, grabbin' it with my other hand. It's comfort, even though I don't really need it.
"Okay, be there righ' before sunset," I say, hopin' that maybe there will be 'nough light to see. There ain't no way he can come inta the house- an' there ain't no light in them slave shacks. Unless I brin' a candle- which I jus' might have to do. I'll jus' have to find a way to sneak it outside- maybe a lantern.
I find myself thinkin' so hard, that I don't move an' am just lookin' at Samuel- no words in my mouth. He don't say nothin' neither though, lookin' back at me like he thinkin' too. Eventually I walk away, lookin' back only once, seein' him starin' after me.
