Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (27 page)

“My mama, wit’ Suga…and yah’ll been here since the spring?” Asiza repeated in disbelief, her head spinning with all the stories.

“She’s not Suga anymore, she’s Lady Sarah something. Her husband came and got your mama, he took her off with him. A man with him, Mr. Webster had his men bring us here. He give Ms. Della money for our board, and more for this place. I can’t believe it, now you’re here too Asiza. I bet Masta’ Gareth is fit to be tied.”

Asiza thought about it, realizing they must have sold Suga right after they sold her off – if not that same week. Then her mind went to the last time she saw her master, tied to that weeping willow, naked, whipped and because of Broc, dead.

“Emmm, we ain’ got to worry ‘bout him no more.” Asiza murmured softly.

“And don’t it feel good!” Ruth sighed. Neither of them knew what Asiza meant by her words, but even if they had, they wouldn’t have cared. All had hated him for his treatment of them. The fact that he was now dead, would have only added to their delight, but Asiza kept it to herself.

“Asiza, who was that man that bring you?” Millie finally got around to asking. Asiza smiled. Regardless of Ms. Della’s warning, she knew that she could trust the women surrounding her, “That man…
my
husband.” She couldn’t help the bit of bragging in her tone. They all gasped, “Oh tell us Asiza, how did you find
him
.” Someone asked.

“I ain’ fin’him… he fin’
me
.”

“You?” Another voice whispered, “How… where?”

“I had run away-…”

They cut her off - gasping in shock. “Asiza you always was crazy, yes, I can believe you ran away.”

Her nose went in the air, proud – explaining, “ … they sen’ him afta’ me. When he catch up, he seen me, an’ want me fo’hisself. Next thang I know, he marry me and said I’m his wife. Sometime I like’em, sometime I don’t.” They all giggled, “You like that man a whole lot Asiza, I saw the way you look at him. You love him?” Millie asked.

Smiling, unable to hide it, Asiza nodded, “I know i’s crazy, him bein’ white, me a Negro – but - he don’ mind. He good t’me.”

“I’m happy for you Asiza, but – I know, I could never be with a white man that way. I, I just can’t stand them.” Millie admitted, even though both of her daughters were by Master Gareth. He had ruined any chance or idea she might have that white men could be trusted. He had been so nasty, mean – there were a many times that she fantasized about his death. She was happy to be away from him, so she knew there was no way she would ever trust a white man again. She could see them as nothing but pure evil, and yet – it was due to one that she was now free, both of her girls with her. Even so, she would never trust one enough to be with him freely. Some of the girls agreed with her, but others felt different.

“I don’t mind a white man if he nice, takes care o’me – he don’t need to marry me.” Tori spoke up, she was fifteen years old.

“Talk like you’ve been taught Tori, and when you do, not what’s sinful.” Ivy corrected her.

“I talk how I want! What I say may be sinful, but I’m truthful. I hear some women have they own place, and live alone. White man set’em up. He jus’ come when he wanna now and then. When he ain’t there, they free – no man around tellin’ them what to do. Tha’s what I want.”

“That’s silly talk.” Ruth murmured, shaking her head.

“Don’t care, Ms. Della don’t have no man, she happy.” Tori pointed out, “I hear the dance where mos’ meet them a man. I can’t wait for it. I plan on getting’ me one there.”

“You ought to be finding a
husband
there. Besides, how you know Ms. Della happy? She so busy seeing about us, there’s no time for a man!” Millie interjected. They all went quiet with that fact, each of them grateful for what she provided.

“What dance?” Asiza asked.

Ruth was quick to answer this time, “This is going to be our first. Some that’s been here a long time say, the last three years, Ms. Della been making arrangements for her boarders to attend a Christmas dance. It’s especially for Negro folks, even though white folks go too. That’s where you get to meet somebody, if you lucky enough.”

“Asiza don’t need to meet no man, she got herself a man already!” Nettie grinned, happy for her.

“That’s where I’m gonna meet me a man.” Tori interjected, “A white man that just wanna visit time’t’time.”

“You silly and childish Tori! You’re gonna end up with something you wish you didn’t have!” Millie tried to correct her.

Tori stuck her nose in the air not bothering to listen. She was a pretty girl, taught to be a fancy. Her idea was to get a man to control, not one that would control her. No one could talk her out of her plan.

Asiza yawned, “I’m goin’ back t’bed ya’ll.”

“Me too, see you tomorrow Asiza.”

“G’night Millie, Ivy, Ruth, Tori, Nettie.” She whispered out as they came to their feet, heading back to their rooms - each of them returning their good-nights to her. Back in her warm cozy bed, once more, Asiza’s mind was on her husband. “G’night Mr. Wolf, sleep tight. I love you.” She whispered last and turning over, was soon off to sleep.

At that moment, he – Mr. Wolf was leaning against the bar next to Boaz - who couldn’t wait to get started making money.

His brother, Willard had been hired and Mr. McNeil’s younger brother, Rory Webster. They learned that his parents had granted him his request to live free and away, working and taking care of himself. He called it, finding himself, his manhood. Due to his father – Maynard Webster, his mother had agreed. There he was, in his 18
^th
year of life and he would be working for Mr. Broc Wolf. That was four of them – Mr. Wolf wanted two more.

“I’m thankin’, you can hire two more tomorra’ - we head out, get started.” Boaz suggested, establishing himself immediately where he planned to be in working for Mr. Wolf. He needed this job. Working for Mr. McNeil during the summer provided a job - but fall and winter, they docked the Lady Frances. He had to find work elsewhere for the winter to make money – his hope was somewhere constant, for good.

“Only problem with that Boaz, is – I gotta find and buy some land first. ‘Cause as of this night, ain’t got no land for us to begin on.”

“Oh, I tell you what boss, I go find you two mo’men and you go buy us our land – where we gone work. May be – you get enough, I can build a lil’house or somethin’ on it.”

Broc stood comfortably drinking, smoking a pipe and trying not to think about his wife, in a Negro women’s boarding school. Instead, he stood listening to Boaz try and talk him into sectioning out a lot from the land he might get but didn’t have yet – for him to live on. It made him grin for his boldness. “How long you plannin’ on workin’ for me?” Broc asked, amused.

“Maybe, ‘til I die? You buyin’ horses ain’cha? I know horses - everythang to do wit’em. You gone build you a house, buildings, barn, plowing – you need help - y'got thangs to do. I be wit’you, we get it done together. You gots'ta have you one good right han'man you can depen' on. An' you can depen’ on me, yessir you can.”

Broc smiled, chuckled and looked around the bar. “Looks t’me, we talkin’ an early start. You best get you a room here – I’m payin’ – let’em know. And I’ah see you in the morning.”

Boaz was delighted, “See you in the mornin’ boss.” Boaz rushed off happy to have another job right after coming ashore.

Broc nodded, in a mellow mood, watching him go.

He stood staring, watching Boaz approach the barkeep. Giving them his rapt attention, he stared so long he almost went into a trance. When the barkeep looked his way, he nodded, letting him know he was good for the room.

That’s when his mind went to Asiza … was she comfortable? Was her bed nice and comfortable, fresh and soft as a cloud? He liked the idea of that, that he could pay to leave his wife in such good accommodations.

He took pride in that feeling. He wanted the best for her – because something about her, was a part of him. He couldn’t explain it, would never be able to put it into words, but it was as if they were already family – of the same blood.

He’d felt that kinship with her almost from the very start. Because of it, despite him not knowing his father – or being able to find him, she – Asiza, made him feel whole, complete. Like there was nothing more to search for. Since her, he felt ambitious – he felt an aggressive driving desire to grow in importance before these people.

He really wanted to establish himself and would do whatever it took to make it happen. He had another whiskey and suddenly felt a silken gloved hand walk fingertips across the back of his neck. Next came the smiling overly made up face it belonged to. Around the nape of his neck, over his shoulder she draped her arm - coming to stand right up close against him, looking into his eyes. 

“My-oh-my, you some kind'a'man you. Look to me like you need a lil’help to see you off to bed for the night. Bet you all bunched up from ridin’. Need somethin’ to work the knots out, what you say?”

‘Why not?’
His mind posed the question.

Just tonight - so he could get a good night’s sleep and leave in a couple of days completely replenished and get their home built. Just to release a bit of pressure,
why not?

She was pretty enough, albeit she smelled as if she soaked herself in cologne, cheap cologne at that. She said something more, looking into his eyes, he didn’t know what – his mind was elsewhere. Trying to look into her eyes, he couldn’t decide what color they were – because he kept seeing the hazel green eyes of his wife. The lady draped over him was still talking, simpering – saying something he was paying only half attention to. When his mind let it in, he noticed she had blond hair, alabaster skin, and deep red lip rouge.
Why not?

He questioned once more, when she started tugging on him, pulling him towards the stairs, he let her, thus he agreed.

He followed her up to a room, seeing only that this was a woman, one that offered him a service he didn’t mind paying for - and entered with the intent of performing. He got as far as only needing to remove his britches while sitting on the bed.

Bare chest, bare feet - about to get him the type of relief only a woman could offer. However, there was one problem - he wasn’t the least bit aroused.

Not one little bit.

Seeing as how long he’d been without a woman, especially after riding and sleeping with Asiza, one would think he’d be bursting from his britches. Nope… not in the least.  

He froze with his thumbs hooked in his waistband.

“Somethin’ wrong darlin’?” the prostitute purred sweetly, coming up behind him, kissing along the back of his neck.

“I think I’m ah, a bit too tired for this…” He turned to look at her one more time, just to be sure, he was really doing this, walking
away
.

“Can’t be that tired.” She coaxed, her hand came from behind to rub down his hairy belly to cup and squeeze his crotch, finding his goods – but all within was soft.

Broc sighed, “Sorry ‘bout that, this just ain’t the night I’m guessin’.” He stood from the bed and began re-dressing.

“Wait a minute, what about me? I-…”

He paid her and left her room to go to his own.

In his half-way decent bed, which was better than the ground – he lay smiling about his wife.  He saw her in his minds eyes, staying in such a prissy place and wondered, did she think about him? He sure hoped so - she was on his mind – she was all that he could think about. Even when he went to sleep, there she was to meet him in his dreams. 

The second day there, bright and early - immediately after breakfast, Della took Asiza and Asa shopping.
Seasons in Fashion
was the first stop - she saw to it that Asiza was measured and fitted for immediate clothing to wear and take, and then for an entire wardrobe according to Mr. Wolf’s instructions. Explaining to her as this was done, that she would be attending the Christmas dance.

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. Until then, we have work to do, getting you and the others ready, this will be your first.” Della went on to explain to her that she and the boarding house benefactors believed that life was more than just learning and working.

As those things were done, they would be delivered. Della made sure to show Asiza how she was to go about ordering things - what each article of clothing was called and the costs. She showed her the correct amount to pay, and if over – what she would expect to have in credit with the shop for something else.

Hats, scarves, mitts, boots, shoes, stockings and all the delicate underthings a woman needed.

Asa was next, and after his fitting, they would return to pick up his items that just needed hemming.

Della then took Asiza on a tour of the city. To the places she would need to be familiar with, introducing her to her favorite shop keepers. New York was a whole new world it seemed. White people walked around on the board walks with Negroes and Indians doing the same. There were people everywhere, so many in fact, few paid them any attention.