Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (28 page)

She supposed it was a good thing they had come through the smaller town before boarding the Lady Frances, to sail there. New York was a much larger, busier city – bustling with activity. However, no panic attacks this time, no need to run and hide and fear for her life. Perhaps it was walking alongside Ms. Della, who did everything with confidence - her head held high, her shoulders square, getting down to business. Watching her, Asiza adjusted herself to emulate the example set by her. Or it could also be that this time, there were so many people, she felt swallowed up by them all – which meant, surely – it was impossible to find her now. Whatever it was, there was something about the place that made her feel, she just may be home.

More than anything, she didn't have to shrink in upon herself and hide in clear sight – that was new – and it felt good. While they were out and about, they ended up on a street where Asiza looked up surprised to see her husband speaking with a few men.

She recognized Boaz and Rory, but not the other four. The sight of him, to hear his voice - sent her heart racing and her ears ringing. Observing him from a distance, to Asiza, he looked happy. He looked on top of the world. There were two large wagons that he was overseeing being loaded with merchandise and a massive freight wagon loaded with lumber and two oxen yoked together to pull it.

He and the men, were talking loud, laughing, teasing and enjoying themselves – excited it would seem for the work at hand and what was to come. She wanted him to see her, but knew to bring attention to herself would be considered unladylike.

“Looks like he’s getting things done - we should be doing the same, shall we carry on?” Della spoke close to her ear to get her moving again, Asiza hadn’t been aware that she’d stopped.

She exhaled a deep breath, with a nod and her hand on Asa's shoulder, they turned to do just that. As determined as she was to do her part, however, from that moment on, Asiza struggled with being distracted. Her mind was on Broc and wanting to be with him.

When they returned to the boarding house, they were loaded down. Things for her, and for Asa crowded their room until she had everything sorted out and put away. That didn’t include what was being sewn for them to be delivered on the days to come.

With all of the shopping done, the next order of business was to go and meet the teachers.

Asiza couldn’t remember when she’d met so many people and of course Della wanted her to remember names as well. She made an effort.

The white lady teaching reading, history and speech was Mrs. Josephine Meyer, she asked to be called Ms. Josey. She was a lovely, pleasant woman with fair skin and flaming red hair, just starting to show signs of grey strands coming in.

To Asiza’s surprise, a Negro woman, teaching sums, figures and basic math, she was Ms. Dinah Jackson. The ladies all called her Ms. Dinah. There was a second Negro women, Mrs. Rosie Clark who taught social etiquette, domestic arts and housekeeping.

Because she had Asa, she also met his teachers.

She was astounded.

Enlightened by truths she would have never known had Broc not brought her north. Truths about Negro folks who were community leaders, educated, refined and contributors to this society.

She had thought, most - if not all Negroes were
slaves
. How wrong she had been, she stood a bit taller, learning that they were not just uneducated laborers, or fancies for rich white men's beds.

They were a people with intelligence, goals, directions and plans to stake their claim so that what they showed and offered, had value.

Asiza's mind went back south to where slaves were treated like animals and told daily how stupid they were. Lied to about how good they had it – how grateful they should be to live in squalor, filth, and serve the master. She thought back to all those who had given up and given in to the lie. Who were accepting their lot in life without a fight, without standing up and fighting to the death, concerning this great injustice. Just the little that she’d seen so far and learning what she had in the few days of them being north, brought back that need she had to hide in the woods and help those who would run from the lie.

A lie that was keeping them bound in servitude so they would dismiss any thoughts of being free – demanding to be equal.

Knowing what she did so far, convinced her that she could never go back. Besides, she had killed to be free.

Now that she was … she could not return to that world again – she could not go back to be subjected to such evil abuse. Yet, she felt a coward – she felt as though she'd betrayed those left behind. She felt as if she'd abandoned them all to a fate worse than death.

Asiza shook off her thoughts.

She could not let the claws of depression sink into her heart.

She was free – and to be free, when so many were slaves – meant not taking that blessing for granted. Even though she fought, and yes, killed for it. She would pray that others do the same, and somehow – some way, perhaps down the road, a way would come, to help others be free.

Bringing her focus back to the day, the events in it and those to come, she learned that each of them was expected to learn to be the best they could be. Each had to learn to be a proper host – by being the host for the day with the boarders.  

There was no excuse not to be the best, Della would accept no excuses... none.

Two separate hours each day, one early hour, one late - all the ladies at the boarding house, had to dress accordingly for social learning. Together, they sat, sipped tea and attentively listened as the local newspaper was read to them.

Each of them were to consider what was read and give their thoughts and opinions on how what was read, impacted them. Once more, Asiza could not believe that such a world of learning ever existed for them.

Because it did, it was a gift she would not squander. She was blessed to be a part of it and determined she would gain from it all there was for her to secure.

So much was packed into a day.

Her second day there was full of activities – and not a moment was wasted. Della was determined to turn each of them into fine and upstanding Negro, women citizens. As Asiza sat, watched and listened, she could see how much this all meant to Della. Right then, she got it, this place, this boarding house, this school, was Della's contribution to black women who had made it … to be free.

Asiza thought back to when she was alone, running, and free.

When she hadn't a clue of what tomorrow would bring, or what decisions she would need to make for her tomorrows. At that time, she'd been waiting on death.

Not anymore.

She realized she had a reason to live. The reason was to fill up on all that Della was offering, and then... turn it over – if she so chose to, and give it to someone else, dying... to be free.

She sat and listened, taking in another important aspect of what their lives meant.

She reflected on Ms. Della's words, on how important it was to be a fine and upstanding Negro woman, wife and mother. Her lessons, her direction was based on the bible’s book of Proverbs. The greatest instruction of all on being a wife more valuable than that of precious corals. Each of them took turns daily, learning to read Proverbs 31: 10 – 31.

Each of them were to consider how, what they were learning, applied to those scriptures, and thus could be applied to their lives once they graduated, and if blessed, to become a wife in which to be proud of.

A mother who would do the exact same things to teach her daughters and set an example that would make them stand out, make them shine and set their value high.

Day two ended with Asiza's mind spinning. It ended on a bum note, due only to seeing her husband in town.

He had not shown up at the boarding house to visit her as she had hoped he would. She and Asa went to bed exhausted after having learned much that day.

Lying in bed, Asiza missed the fresh air of the forest she’d grown to know and love. She looked back knowing those days were gone now - the days of climbing trees, looking down at the forest floor to await the arrival of her next meal. Days of wild and dangerous running and not knowing what she would face in the coming of dawn.

But most of all, she missed the big man from the river … the bounty hunter, her husband, Broc Wolf.

She was trying not to lose faith in him. She kept reminding herself that he was busy in trying to build their lives… their home. She could now see, that it had been a good idea to bring her to Ms. Della. If he returned for her she would be ready. If his heart was not true – his love not true – surely he would not have left behind the world and life that he knew. He too gave up certain freedoms. He’d brought her north for her safety and saved the child Asa as well.

These were the actions of a man with honor, surely it was so.

Yet… she lay in her lonely bed, missing him, afraid that as time went by, he would forget her, forget that they were married and forget them both. After all, he was the reason she was there – learning the true and real meaning to life.

Fighting her fears, fighting those doubts along with a touch of depression, she said a little prayer before drifting off to sleep.

Only to be jarred awake sometime deep in the night.

Her bed shifted and moved under the weight of someone heavy, climbing in with her. She could smell liquor and pipe smoke, as her mind tried to clear the fog of sleep. A large arm wrapped around her, and the bristles of a sharp prickly beard scraped the soft skin of her cheek and neck, she gasped softly,

“Shhh shhh – I’ve a mind… to have you… to have you here and now.” He slurred, his voice rough and husky with passion, breathing each word into her ear, “My wife… emmm, my wife.” He squeezed her tightly against his long body, his large hand stroked and caressed down the front of her and back up again. He cupped one of her breasts, gently squeezing and groaned his arousal in her ear.

“Broc...” His name was a soft and welcoming sigh.

She felt him sigh long and deep from the very depths of his soul, as if he inhaled the very essence of her, “You smell – like I imagine heaven would. You feel... emmm, the way a man, want his woman... to feel. I - I could not wait … not for day, no… I could not. Just… wanted to … hold you… feel you… breathe the air… you breathe… my wife… my darlin' Asiza … my wife…”

Asiza dare not move, dare not say another word.

He was heavy, lying more on her than not.

His face tucked in close beneath her ear, his hot breath blowing on her neck, his groin rubbed against her, she could feel him hard, erect. He’d been drinking, smoking his pipe – she could smell it all and loved him more for it.

“Been... drinkin'.... jus'... jus'a bit... jus'abit.... shhh, m'Asiza, m'darlin... m'darlin'...” His voice went lower, lighter, softer and finally, he was still.

Breathing deep.

Asleep … in her bed, with her.

Tears came to her eyes, and fell.

She wanted to turn over and wrap her arms around him, squeeze him so tight, hold him and tell him, that he was right.

That she was wrong.

That she was glad he brought her there.

Glad to be learning... to be a lady... his lady... his wife. But he held her so securely, so completely, she couldn't turn. 

She had no idea if this was even allowed. Was he breaking a rule? How did he get in? She smiled at the idea that he'd probably climbed into their window.

This was a boarding house for women – there were no men present – only the three – and they did not sleep within, but in the out buildings. And yet, she was fully engulfed – in this bed, in her husband’s arms.

Asiza did not move, did not dare.

If for some reason, tomorrow did not arrive, and they died in the night, she would die smiling, feeling joy to the deepest part of her soul. She loved her good man… her white man, and nothing could ever turn her from that.

At some point in the night, she went back to sleep.

It seemed that only an instant had passed when through the lids of her eyes she saw that it was morning. Her body was no longer weighed down. Opening her eyes, she sat up and instantly knew that he was gone. She knew that it was not a dream that he'd been there, because she could still smell him. Also, her pretty white clean bedspread bore the marks and smudges of mud and grit from his boots.

Asiza glanced towards the bed across from hers, Asa lay sleeping still, upside down in the bed, with the covers over him. With the way that he slept, it was impossible that the covers would be over him. Asiza giggled and stretched, certain that Broc had awakened, covered him and left them once again. Throwing the covers off, she turned, sitting with her feet on the floor, to see lying on her side table, a single wilted white rose. It had been plucked from a bush somewhere and left for her to find.

She picked it up and brought the large open petals to her nose and smelled love.

“Lawd - God, my Father... keep my husband safe. Make me a good woman, a good wife, an' a good person, like Ms. Della and the teachers. Make me, so my life, mean somethin' fo' more than jus'...me. Please?”

Chapter Nineteen