Samuel put off his satisfaction with his granddaughter, letting it build. Then came the night when he visited Eliza Two in the big house attic, where she slept. Samuel brought his bottle of poppy syrup and fistful of candy. He told her that she was pretty and that was why he loved her more than anyone else. Why she was so special. That is all she remembered when she awoke in the morning to find herself wounded and confused. After several of these visits, she reported her injuries to Rabbit, who, in turn, reported them to Aggie that next morning. The child did not know the implications of her sister’s injuries, only that when Eliza Two had spoken, Rabbit’s stomach was in agony, as if she had been stabbed repeatedly.
A Terrible Decision
When Rabbit came to her, Aggie was stricken with remorse and self-loathing. She awakened from the fog that had obscured her life. Not slowly, but as if someone tossed night water in her face. Or shouted at her in the middle of a meal. Or slapped her without warning after offering her a compliment. She had been warned, hadn’t she? For years, Samuel had announced his crimes in the open. Every adult on the premises knew about the Young Friends in the left cabin. Samuel was a monster, and Aggie knew that. Yet she had dropped her guard and placed prey right in front of him. She had thought herself and her family above harm. And more than that: she had borne witness to grievous sins against other children as well and turned her back. In exchange for the safety of her own progeny, and those of the Quarters-folks, she had ignored the suffering of the most helpless. Yet this safety was an illusion, for every Negro—in the big house, in the Quarters, and in the left cabin—was a slave. And all of them were at the mercy of a capricious, evil man. God was punishing Aggie; this she knew. And hopelessness tightened its grasp, until a message from above arrived.
It was a Tuesday evening when Rabbit came to her with the information about her twin. The next morning, Aggie put away her guilt and began to prepare. She only had five more days. She could not alert Samuel that anything was amiss. Though Rabbit was only a child, Aggie told her, do not tell anyone else about the injuries to her twin. Yet also, she told the girl that she could trust her grandmother. Aggie would ensure that all was well.
On Sunday afternoon, Aggie closed the door of her cabin after gathering her family. She told Nick it was time for him, Tess, and the children to leave Wood Place. She looked over at Pop George, who did not seem surprised. Nick was squatting on the braided rug; he only raised his eyebrows. Tess and her little girls were sitting at the table, and Tess began to weep. The twins were silent for different reasons. Eliza Two had been groggy for days, as Samuel had continued to ply her with his poppy syrup. As for Rabbit, in that same time, she had become steely and grim—too mature for a little girl of eleven.
“Mama, what happen?” Nick asked. “Why you done change your mind?”
Aggie lied, saying nothing had occurred. It was only time for his children and grandchildren to leave. Yet when Nick questioned her again, she relented, his girls didn’t need to be working in that house around that evil man. Nick’s eyes widened. He leapt up, and his mother blocked his way to the door. Pop George called his name. Sit down, boy, he said. Listen to your mama. It’s time for you to leave. It seemed when Pop George spoke, all sound stopped. Unless he was telling his stories, he was a man of few words. Perhaps this was why Nick turned from the door.
Time slowed as Pop George and Aggie prepared Nick. As they told him which star he should follow, that if he were in the right position the star would keep in front of him, and that the green moss needed to grow on the front side of the trees, too. If he had those two guides, that would serve him. But no, she did not know how this knowledge came about, only that she had been told by her grandmother Helen, and she had been told by somebody else, and so on, and yes, it might have been the star that came up the night Jesus was born, but then again, it might not have been, but that wasn’t important, and Nick should listen to what she was talking about, so he could remember. She didn’t see that her son was gulping down her words. They were keepsakes. Aggie gave him light and corn breads given to her by Venie, along with a large portion of a ham.
Pop George had joined into the preparations as well. He warned Nick to retain his wits, that when he heard wagons, he should keep to the trees, but if he kept his distance, he would be unnoticed even if seen. His white skin and his light eyes would be his protection so long as he made a shaving foam with a portion of his drinking water and soap and used his razor to keep the kinks on his head at bay. He needn’t worry about his beard, which was a vibrant, golden color and not that much differently textured from white men’s. He should be careful about talking, though: his speech would give him away. From afar, others would assume Tess and the twins were his property.