Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (22 page)

There was some scraping and then another sound, a different kind of voice. The door slowly opened, and Broc’s face peaked in. They looked directly at each other - her hazel green eyes, meeting his sage green eyes. She gave him a gentle smile that told him how sorry she was.

He smiled, relieved.

She wondered how could he smile at her? Why he didn’t just come into the room?

“Well? You comin' in?” He asked someone in the hall. She watched closely, he turned saying, “She’s awake, smilin’ too, think we gone be okay.” He then opened the door wider and standing in the middle of it - shy, bashful and uncertain, was the little boy she’d watched get a beating.

An instant rush of heat, joy and tears filled her eyes once more. Just when she thought her crying was under control – the flow returned almost full force - spilling over, both hands covered her mouth not to cry out, sealing within the scream that almost escaped. She could only watch as proof of the type of man she had married, made itself evident. It could not escape her that Broc was talking to someone else as well, “Thank you – I’ah take it from here.”

He turned back, a big basket in his arms – it looked heavy. Looking down past it, he urged, “Well… go on in. We can’nah stand out here all night.”

Asiza couldn’t take her eyes off the little boy – her heart took to beating so hard, she was overcome by it all. He was so scared, and yet – surprised to see her. He finally eased into the room, and then as if he’d forgotten himself, he turned back, putting his little hands up on the bottom side of the basket Broc held as if helping him bring it in. “I’ll help you.” His soft little voice whispered.

“You helpin’ me huh? Well let’s get it to the table, we’ah set it there.”

“Yessir.” the little voice came again.

“Ta lil’man, could’nah done it without you.” Broc returned, smiling at how well the child spoke.

His words were fancy and he imagined, spoken the way one should speak English. Few of his people spoke the language so well. Neither could he recall hearing such good speech from the various Negro slaves he’d encountered in the south. However, it was obvious listening to lil’man, that there were indeed slaves somewhere speaking properly. That intrigued him – making him wonder how such a child got into the hands of the monster he'd taken him from.

Asiza sat amazed, listening to his surprising little voice, with Broc speaking to him. Watching the two got right to the pit of her stomach, making her bite into her lip from the gladness that filled her. She was so fixated on them - she hadn’t seen the tall black man standing in the door, gazing in at her, surprised. Her head swiveled back, startled to see him there.

“M’pologies missy.” He backed away to stand out of sight by the door. Of course, when they'd come in, she had been a boy, now...he saw a woman.

Hearing his voice, reminded Broc of why he stood waiting - he immediately returned to him, giving him a full gold coin worth ten dollars. Boaz couldn’t believe his eyes - it usually took three weeks to earn close to that much.

“There will be more of that, if you come and work for me.” Broc promised the man. Asiza realized they must have been talking at some point.

He shook the man’s hand and then backing in, closed the door. Turning back to the room, his eyes on Asa, he pointed at his wife.

“Well, go on lil'man, introduce yourself – that’s m'missus.”

Scruffy, dusty, still stained with blood, the little one swallowed deeply, walked up to the side of the bunk and said with such a sweet voice.

“My name is Asa. Mr. Broc said, he would like me to stay with you. That it is all right with you. If it is, I – I would like to stay with you too - if you’ll have me.” All within Asiza turned to warm, wonderful mush.

“Ain’t he a fancy talker? Smart as can be.” Broc beamed with pride as if the child were his own. He was stunned every time he heard him, and then he said to Asa, “No if’s about it lil’man, you with us to stay, ain’t that right missus?”

Asiza scrambled towards the edge of the bed to get a closer look.

Her head nodded, she was choked up, smiling and happy despite her tears. “Please…we want you, long as you’ah have us.” She confirmed Broc’s words to him.

She cupped his little face tenderly, noticing that he had scars, some old, a few new – and a bruise on his cheek, and a scabbing-up bloody scar on his head.

“How you talk so good?” She asked, taking in all there was about the little boy. He was painfully skinny – tiny as could be, she was thinking, no more than five at the most.

“My daddy and my mama, taught me to speak right.” He answered easily. “Where yo’daddy?” She asked.

He shrugged his little shoulders which stuck a moment in the up-shrug as if he were remembering where, but something made him move away from it. One more shrug and his shoulders fell into a slump.

“Tha’s all right, you ain’t gotta’say.” She murmured softly.

Because he was so skinny, his head looked out of proportion to the rest of him. Even so, it was perfect in its roundness, large dark eyes, flat nose of a baby and small but full lips. The skin that was not scarred was smooth and brown, but dusty in places, as well in his short crop of hair.

Cupping his cheeks, she couldn’t fight it back, getting choked up once more, unable to say anymore.

“Got a basket here, full’o’food. I’m thinkin’ this little one needs to eat.” Broc broke into their meeting.

Asiza sat back, “Smell good too, I know I’m ready t’eat. Bet you is too?” She asked with a full beautiful smile. Their room was filled with the delicious aroma of cooked food. Suddenly both of their stomachs growled loudly.

She giggled, and his big brown eyes went wide.

“That sound like t’me, time to eat.” Broc announced.

Asiza climbed off the bed to join her husband, standing next to him, she helped him unpack. She wanted to say that she was sorry, so very sorry. No matter how hard she tried to move on, everything he had done this day moved her like she’d never been touched before - the tears were rolling again. Broc turned to her, cupping her lovely face, his thumbs stroking away her tears. “Shhh, don’t cry… why you crying?” He asked softly.

“I'm – so – sorry... don’ know, if I gotta right t’have you.”

Broc grinned, and then laughed out, “After havin’ me all to yourself clean to a year, see if you still feel the same.” He joked in his usual way – she was getting used to that with him.

Again, she hesitated, but wanted to get it out, “I know what that feelin' is... I know it now.”

Broc smiled softly, “What would that be?”

“L-love,” She whispered.

“That shouldn’t make you cry, ‘cause you love me. That mean, I should be cryin’ too? Hmmm, ‘cause Lord knows, Ms. Broc – you got my heart, mmm-em! I swear you can do anything you want with’it, you know that?” His soft voice was a balm to her soul, soothing her in ways she had never known. Her hands covered his, her eyes closed and he kissed her brow and her lips. “
I
– love – you. Mrs. Broc Wolf - I never wanna see you cry, no – not ever – wanna see you hurtin’ like you was today.” He swore passionately.

She sniffed, trying to rein in her emotions while her husband leaned close, kissing her lips tenderly, murmuring softly, “I do Asiza, love you with all my heart.” He touched her lips twice more and remembering they weren’t alone, he was the first to look down.

Asiza followed his lead, both gazing down between them - Asa – their new little boy, stood watching them, as if he’d seen a Genie rise from a bottle. Nothing could have stunned him more, than seeing a white man, treat a black lady, so tenderly - the way this one, was treating her. He didn’t even know that white folks were capable of feeling what he was seeing, about black. He knew of nice ones, he did, but this – was different. Now, he belonged to this same white man, who told him to come along, and that his name was now, Asa Wolf. Asa hadn't felt this warm and good since being with his father and mother. He hoped his parents were looking down at him, relieved – that now, he would be okay, if this man, Broc, was what he seemed.

Broc was the one to break into his trance, “You wanna eat don’cha? Not stand watchin’ me, lovin’ on m’missus.”

Asa’s little head bobbed a most definite, yes – he was ready to eat. 

“Sit it out missus - there’s cornbread,” He started singing, “… baked chicken, corn on the cob, bean soup, greens and pound cake – three pieces! Sweet potato pie – yuuum yum! Couldn’t make up m’mind, so I pick that too! We got three big pieces. Oh and it look so good – m’mouths waterin’!”

Asiza chuckled, shaking her head, “I see now, I’mo be cookin’ all the time.”

“Yes ma’am… with a baby on each hip.” He tossed in, looking her right in the eyes.

Asiza’s eyes grew large, “Not in fron’ o’Asa.” She blushed, looking at him, “Don’ it smell wonderful, Asa?” She asked as a distraction from what Broc was referring to.

His nod was immediate, “Yes ma’am, it smells real good.”

“Who cook it?” She asked, dishing it out.

“Got a kitchen on this steamer – Lester showed me the way. Careful, it’s hot – that kettle gots fresh tea. She put - cups, saucers in there too. We get done, just set it out and they come through and pick it up.” He explained, sitting down with Asa while Asiza piled the tin plates with food. There were tin saucers, plates, bowls and silverware as well. Asa’s eyes bugged out when Broc sat his plate before him.

“There you go lil’man – eat ‘til yer jus’ pass out.”

Asiza giggled, “That what you gone do?”

“Oh yeah missus, you know by now, I don’t mind eaten good.” He replied, rubbing his hands together in anticipation for when Asiza passed him a full plate. When she finally sat down to eat with them, they were all on the floor for her to point out, “We been bless, ain’t we? Shame, ain’ even thank the Lawd. We need t’be shame.” She looked at Broc with a reproachful expression on her face.

Groaning, he looked up, mouth full as if dreading what she expected.

“Well, i's only right.” She answered his pointed groan and expression. Sitting straight, he realized that neglecting such a thing could possibly jinx them. He chewed real quick, swallowed, took a deep breath, “All right then, suppose so. Hang on Asa – let’s give thanks. Lord, God, Father, foods good - we been blessed. Got a good woman, thank you Lord. Got me a lil’man now, thank you for him too. An’ Lord, thank you for all the rest. An’ if you so inclined, keep it comin’ - Amen.” He looked at Asiza for approval, “That okay?”

“Amen.” With a nod was her stamp of approval.

Broc's eyes went to Asa, who nodded and then swallowing, called out, “Amen!”

“Eat up, show the Lord we don't waste.” Broc encouraged.

Chapter Fifteen

They ate so much, were so full that together, Broc, Asiza and Asa returned the big basket, minus food to the kitchen. What they couldn’t eat, they kept for later. They needed the walk and wished to thank the cook. Meeting up with Boaz on the stairs, he led them down to the galley where they could hear laughter and talk. When he pushed the door open, “’scuse me Mrs. McNeil, these here folks wanna give thanks…” Boaz started, letting Broc enter behind him to finish.

“Ma’am, Mrs. McNeil – it’s been a long time since we ate so well, just had to bring this back and tell you what a meal you served.”

Asiza stood watching her husband smile, interact and greet people - it occurred to her, that he was a jovial man. One wouldn’t think of him that way with him being a bounty hunter, and if need be, a killer. Meeting him, with his twinkling eyes, approachable manner and grin, made
you
want to smile. However, she’d seen that other side to him, that dangerous side – to which he could switch to at the drop of a hat. Thinking about it, so busy smiling and basking in the aura of his being, she missed the intros and felt a bit embarrassed when the lady, Mrs. McNeil teased her.

“Don’t look like ya’ll been married long, she so in love she can’t see nobody but you. I was like that when I meet and marry my Leon.”

Asiza’s face burned because she’d been caught glowing for her husband and not listening. Broc only laughed and tweaked her chin, “Oh, she loves me all right, love me one minute, wanna kill me the next.” He joked, causing them to laugh out. 

Asiza gasped, “Not true…” She turned to the pretty, dark and heavily pregnant young woman, Mrs. McNeil, “… he tellin’ tales.”

Asiza responded at the same time, her mind was trying to make sense out of the way they were reacting towards her and Broc.

After all, while she’d been distracted by thoughts of him, she was certain she heard him introduce them as husband and wife. That she was his missus.

There were five people in the room, the lady – the young white male, who checked their tickets, Boaz, and two young boys of a of an undetermined race. Asiza could tell they were brothers, one of them on the extra healthy side. Neither one batted an eye at his announcement, as if this were an everyday occurrence to see a white man proudly introducing his Negro wife.

“No need to say a thing,” Frances attempted to sooth Asiza, “I’m used to men like him now – often find myself surrounded by’em.” She simpered, “Anything else I can do for ya’ll – just say the word.”