Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House

The floorboards creaked when I stepped across the doorsill. A young boy, assisting a Negro woman who was caring for a patient, turned at the sound of my entry. He stared for only a moment before he dropped the wooden bowl he held. “Mr. Burton! Mr. Burton!” he called out as he ran toward me. “I knew you’d come for me! I knew you’d come for me!” He clutched at my waist, his whole body trembling. It was difficult to believe that this sad, emaciated boy was Pan.

As I patted his shorn head, I felt the long jagged scar. What had they done to this gentle boy? How had he been so badly injured? In those moments, my fear for myself turned to rage for this child. I wanted to snatch him and go, but after what I had already seen, I knew that now more than ever, I needed to hold myself in check. I had been warned that this place was governed by its own law, and guards were likely everywhere.

All eyes were on us as I pried Pan loose, then set him back and looked directly into his eyes. “Listen to me!” I said, speaking as low as I could. “Do not say another word! You must not address me. Do you understand?” I held both of his frail shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Your leaving here will depend on this.”

He nodded, but he reached for my hand again as though for reassurance.

“No!” I said, pulling back. “You must go back to work.” I turned him around, then directed him toward the large homely woman who watched silently. “I’m looking for Sukey,” I said.

Pan pointed to her. “That is Sukey, Mr. Burton!”

“Pan! Do not use my name!”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes enormous in his drawn face.

I forced my attention away from him. “Are you Sukey?” I asked the woman.

She nodded, then slowly came forward as she readjusted her faded head wrap and smoothed out her brown skirt. She was a heavyset woman with plain features, and as she approached me, her black eyes kept darting to my eye patch.

“She can’t talk,” Pan said.

“Tell her that she is needed at Mr. Thomas’s house,” I said.

“She can hear, she just can’t talk,” said Pan when the woman shot me a look. Did she mean the boy harm? Would she tell Thomas what she had seen the boy do?

I wanted to ask her for help, but she moved quickly. As I left, I glanced back at Pan and put my finger to my lips, reminding him of silence. His eyes sparkled when he nodded his understanding.

By the time we reached Thomas’s house, he had come and gone and the doctor had been sent for. It appeared Addy’s arm was broken, and the decision to take her up to a bedroom in the big house had been made. When Mr. Spencer requested that I go to fetch Hester so she might attend to Addy, I could not ride out fast enough, wanting only to head for the north. But I had found Pan, and now I had only to extricate him.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


1830


James


ADDY WAS TO remain at Southwood for seven days. Her arm had been set, and though it was a clean break, the doctor insisted that she not be moved. She was made as comfortable as possible in a guest room of the big house.

Following her first day of confinement, Mr. Spencer returned from seeing her and called me into his study. “Hester will remain with Addy for the duration of her stay. I will spend the mornings with her and go back every evening, but I need some time in the afternoon to see to my work. I realize this might be considered unusual, but I wonder if I might ask you to visit with her in the afternoons. I can’t say that I like to leave her and Hester alone on the place without someone to oversee to their welfare. Perhaps you would be willing to check in with her and read to her for an hour or so?”

“I would be happy to do so,” I said, feeling some obligation but also realizing the access it provided me to Southwood.

As though reading my thoughts, Mr. Spencer continued on. “I know you want to get yourself a man,” he said, “but I’m asking that you wait until Addy is back home. Thomas’s moods are too unreliable, and I’d like Addy out of there if you decide to carry through with a purchase.”

“Certainly,” I said, and though frustrated with his request, I thought it best not to press my need.


WHEN I VISITED the following afternoon, I found Addy sitting up in a chair with Hester by her side.

“How well you are doing! It is wonderful to see you sitting in a chair,” I said.

“It’s my first time up! I almost fainted,” she said with some pride. “It was fortunate that Hester’s friend Sukey was here to help catch me.”

I looked at Hester. “She is your friend?”

Hester promptly busied herself straightening the bedcover.

“They came to this place together,” Addy said. “Isn’t that true, Hester?”

Hester kept her attention on the red quilt that she was smoothing. “We know each other a long time,” she said.

“Hester won’t tell me why Sukey won’t speak,” Addy complained.

There was an awkward silence in the room. “I don’t talk about that,” Hester finally said.

“All I want to know is why she won’t talk,” Addy argued.

“She jus’ can’t, is all,” Hester said.

“Does she not like me, or is that the way she is with everyone?” Addy asked.

“She don’t talk to nobody,” said Hester.

“But why won’t she?” Addy persisted.

“?’Cause she can’t,” Hester said, her tone of voice issuing a warning that Addy disregarded.

“But why won’t you tell me, Hester?” she pushed.

“That none a your business!” Hester said in a voice so harsh that the girl sat back in surprise. When Addy’s eyes watered, Hester spoke more gently.

“Miss Addy, I don’t mean to talk to you like that. I’m just wantin’ you to get better so we can get home, is all. I don’t like being back at this place.”

Addy was ready to take advantage of the opportunity. “All I wanted to know was why that woman won’t talk to me,” she said, actually sounding contrite.

Hester looked at me helplessly before she turned back to Addy. “She won’t talk ’cause she can’t. They take out her tongue.”

In the heat of the room, a chill traveled the length of my body. Addy’s mouth opened and then closed again. “I want to go back to bed,” she said weakly.


I HONORED MR. Spencer’s request and returned to visit with Addy over the next couple of days. On my way to the big house, I passed by the hospital where I knew Pan waited, though I dared not make contact with him.

I struggled with fear for my own safety and continually fought myself over wanting to make a quick escape on my own. But then I would recall the knotty feel of the long scar on Pan’s head that marked his abuse, and fury would renew my resolve. As soon as Addy was home, I would meet with Thomas and offer a purse he could not refuse.

On Thursday afternoon I was with Addy longer than usual and stayed to play chess with her until her doctor arrived. It seemed he would never come, but when he finally did, I made my exit. It was then, while hurrying down the back porch steps, that I met Bill Thomas for the first time.

Thomas was a tall man, and his stride corresponded to the length of his legs. Had I met him in a public square, I might have given him notice, for he was a strikingly handsome man who carried himself with an authority that reflected undisputed power. Clothed in various shades of brown, he wore a low-slung leather belt from which hung a handgun and, next to it, a treacherous-looking sheathed knife. He nodded in my direction but would have kept on walking had I not stepped out in his path. “Good day,” I greeted him.

“And who are you?” he asked.

“My name is James Burton. I am an artist, and I am visiting with the Spencers.”

“I see,” he said.

“And you are Bill Thomas?” I asked in a friendly voice, for he did not appear the brute I had expected.

He nodded, then looked toward the house. “How’s the girl?”

“She appears to be doing well,” I said. “I believe that we will be able to take her home soon.”

“Sooner the better,” he said.

I duly noted the cold comment but saw an opportunity and took it. “I’ve been wanting to meet you,” I said.

“And why’s that?”

“As I mentioned earlier, I am an artist, here to paint birds for the museum in Philadelphia.”

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