“Without a proper guardian, the judge could easily make you a ward of the state,” Mr. Morgan said. “Send you to the House of Reform.”
“What can I do?” I asked, the panic gnawing at my belly as I peeled off the gloves and stuffed them inside a coat pocket, the fright staining my hands.
A silence filled the forest but it was deafening like tree frogs lifting their chorus in the darkness.
Devil John leaned toward me. “Might have figured another way to keep you safe.” He nudged Carson’s arm with his elbow.
I looked back and forth between the two.
Carson blushed and pulled out a small bouquet of pennywort and bird’s-foot violets from behind his back, pushing them toward me.
“What’s this, Carson?” I took the posy and uttered a much obliged, thinking maybe it was for Retta’s passing.
But Carson just stood there with something more in his eyes. There was a strange, uncomfortable look in them, but I couldn’t be sure and immediately drew back.
Devil John looked at Carson and wiggled his finger toward me, giving a quick nod.
Carson led me out into the yard. He took off his floppy leather hat, twisting it around in his hands, then softly cleared his throat. “Honey, uh, um, I’d like to marry ya.” He shot me a wide smile that never really made it to his eyes. “Will ya marry me?”
A gasp slipped past my teeth. I had known Carson my whole life, but never once had I given thought to any romantic notions or a marriage to him. And Papa would never allow me to wed so young.
Devil John said, “Be mighty proud to have you as our daughter-in-law. Martha Hannah too.”
Exasperated, I turned to Mr. Morgan, the joy I’d captured earlier meeting Francis and getting work, souring in my stomach. “No, Mr. Morgan,” I barely whispered.
Mr. Morgan said quietly, “It’s true you’d be safe, and the law could not interfere between the union. The court would simply declare you an adult. And the state would lose its control. I’m sure your father would give his written consent for such a union—”
“But, I’m a Blue!” I raised wriggling flushed hands. “The law says we’re mixed, and I can’t marry whites.”
“Not with these.” Devil John dug into his pocket and pulled out delicate white gloves with lace trims. “Martha Hannah whipped these up, and we’ll get a justice over yander in the next county to marry ya. Hardly anyone here knows you’re a Blue. Your mama always saw fit to keep your hands covered with gloves. Keep ya safe like that.”
Carson nudged me farther into the yard, away from the men, and whispered, “I’d take good care of ya, Honey.”
“Carson, I—” I fidgeted with my collar. “I’m grateful, but I can’t.” I frowned as the disappointment flooded his face. “This was your papa’s idea and it feels like, well, like charity.” I pressed the flowers back into his hand.
“Honey, no, it’s not. I swear it’s mine and mine alone. Marry me and let me keep ya safe,” he urged.
Shocked, I stepped back, shaking my head. “It’s not like we’re kids anymore, Carson, fishing and playing in the creek. I don’t want to play house with anyone—with you. I just don’t love you that way.” I thought about my parents, the great love they had for each other, the way it always shone bright like a flame that never went out. I wanted that. “Carson, I’m sixteen and I haven’t even had a chance to find out about love yet.” I turned my head, thinking about Francis, his smile. “I want that chance.” Embarrassed, I crossed my arms.