Chapter 7 #3
I answered Ella with a frantic shake of my head, detesting the Tollivers’ new religion.
Prior to Mormonism, when being Baptist was good enough, they hadn’t shown a lick of interest in the welfare of our spirits.
Since converting, Miss Norene had taken to holding Sunday morning prayers and “spiritually enlightening” the children.
Mine included. Despite her disdain. Calling my girls “dusty heathens” only the Word of God could save.
Now, her enlightenment could cause my child to be mutilated, sold, or even killed.
“She did it on purpose! She drummed up Annabelle’s curiosity about book learning just to cause calamity.
” That hot, whispered lament spewed from my lips before I could shackle it.
True or not, I knew Norene Tolliver. She would manipulate this incident to enact cruelty against my Annabelle. “I can’t have that!”
Lovie and Ella huddled about me, their breath smoky on the damp morning, as I eased Annabelle away and squatted so we were face to face. I took the Bible from her grip, holding it aloft as if it burned my fingertips. “Did anyone see you pick this up?”
“Only July.”
I glanced up at Lovie. Reprimanding her son for driving recklessly in the stream was a recent ache.
Now this. The dim morning shielded her full expression from me.
Still, I felt her tense at July’s mention.
He’d kept Annabelle’s retrieving what wasn’t hers to himself.
That made him complicit, made both children subject to consequences of which only God knew the extent.
I was tempted to replicate Lovie’s actions, to punish my child physically in my panic. It was a brutal thought I didn’t relish but would enact if it meant sparing her the viciousness of Norene Tolliver or the caravan’s other plantation people, who’d take umbrage.
“Ain’t no telling what’ll happen when that she-beast finds her Bible missing.” Lovie’s sharp hiss was filled with dread and loathing.
“Give it to me!” Ella grabbed the Bible and scrubbed its cover with the hem of her frock. “They ain’t gonna blame this child, claiming she stole something. Or worse, was reading.”
“Whatchu fixin’ to do?”
Ella’s voice was a dark mystery when answering my sister. “I’ll say I found it. I been beat so many times more hurt and scars won’t matter—”
“But Master Ryland don’t allow reading. Beating won’t be the end of it. He’ll sell you!”
I stood up, snatching the Bible from Ella and intercepting Lovie’s worries. “Ain’t nobody getting sold.” I kept my voice low. “And if anybody’s getting beat it’ll be me. Annabelle’s my child. I’ll take the whipping.”
Her hand was cold, clammy, when I reached for it—as if all of Annabelle’s joy and warmth had been stolen.
“Come now, little bit. Get back on the cart.” I helped her up, helped her settle beneath the rough cotton blanket with Abigail, who still slept beside Hattie, snug in her basket.
“Say nothing to no one about this. Anybody ask you anything about this here Bible you know nothing. You never touched it. Never saw it. Understand?”
Her voice was tight, tiny. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright. Close your eyes.” I pressed my forehead to hers before kissing her warm skin. “Go’n back to sleep and get some rest before the sun’s fully up.”
My instructions were nearly lost beneath the sound of the triangle being hit.
Our customary morning wake-up call resonated with annoying, metallic insistence.
Its clanging was followed by the sound of others stirring and prompted me to move quickly.
Before I could, Hattie let out a sound I knew would soon become loud wailing.
I reached for her but stopped suddenly. “Hold this.”
I extended Miss Norene’s Bible to the sister-women with me before finding Hattie’s sling. Quickly, I slipped the halter over my shoulders, reached for the Bible, and slipped it into Hattie’s harness.
“Zinnie—”
“Hush, Lovie. I’m doing what I have to.” I had no plan while situating my infant in her sling, that Bible a holy wedge between our bodies. I only knew that sacred text had to stay hidden until I figured out how to dispose of it. “Let’s get on. The day ain’t gonna wait.”
I moved away to nurse one child while trying to figure out how to keep the other alive.
Dear Lord, I need Your help!
My prayer wasn’t elaborate, purely heartfelt. I repeated it through every morning task—through dismantling camp, handing out breakfast, and feeding livestock. By the time morning prayer rolled around I was weary from my worried heart pounding like a hush arbor drum.
“Gather round.” As the eldest plantation man, Mr. Jessup had appointed himself a makeshift minister, blessing the food and uttering daily prayers.
That day my mind was so full of resolving my issue I nearly missed his words.
“Miss Tolliver, do us the honor of rendering a verse from the Good Book. We could benefit from your sunshine voice after days of rain.”
“I’d be delighted, Mr. Jessup. Son, run and fetch my Bible.”
I stepped forward, thanking God for divine opportunity. “Miss Norene, ain’t no need for Master Jonathan to trouble himself when we got a long day ahead. I’ll get your Bible, ma’am.”
“It’s underneath the buckboard seat, Zinnie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hurried away, ignoring Mr. Jessup’s deeming me a “fine nigra” and the fact that I was required to call a child master as if he too was superior.
I silenced such insults, grateful for the unexpected blessing of Mr. Jessup’s request, and that the Tollivers’ wagon was far enough from the gathering to avoid detection.
I moved as quickly as the muddy ground permitted.
My nerves were a ball of fire in my chest. Inhaling deeply, I thanked God for answering my prayer while pretending as if I was searching beneath that wagon seat while easing the Bible from the harness between me and Hattie.
My sense of relief plunged into an abyss when I saw the edges of its muddied pages.
No, dear Jesus…
Ella had wiped that Bible in the dark. Morning light exposed that her efforts weren’t enough.
Slowly, I retraced my steps, approaching that gathering, my heart broken and bleeding.
“Do hurry, Zinnie.”
I acknowledged Miss Norene’s command before glancing at my Annabelle standing with the other children.
She was teary-eyed and staring at the ground as if beholding her sins.
I wanted to fly across the distance and whisk her somewhere safe, knowing there’d be an interrogation when I surrendered that Bible in its current condition.
I can’t do this. I can’t hurt my children.
I did what I needed to.
I was intentional when pitching forward and slipping on the wet earth close enough to Buck, knowing he wouldn’t allow me to fall and hurt myself or Hattie.
As expected, his reflexes were quick as he reached out, preventing my descent.
The Bible had a different experience. It fell from my grip and landed on the sodden ground with a plop that resonated like a rifle shot.
“Zinnie! How dare you sully God’s Word!” Master Ryland’s voice boomed indignantly. It was nothing compared to the sound of Miss Norene sloshing across the distance and viciously slapping me.
“You ignorant idiot!” Her shrill voice was like knives against skin. “I will have your hide fileted if my beautiful Bible is ruined. Clean it. Now.”
In the cold morning, in the light of the first dry day since leaving Mississippi, as sounds of plantation people’s indignation coated the damp air, I attempted to restore Norene Tolliver’s Bible to its former condition.
Whether I succeeded or not, Annabelle was safe.
My actions secretly absorbed hers, melding two incidents into one so that her doings were camouflaged and would never be known.
Except by us.
Face smarting where I’d been struck, I glanced at Lovie and Ella as Mister Jessup babbled his bland morning prayer and found them looking at me, restraining triumphant smiles and pure relief.
Beat me. Bruise me. Don’t matter what you do to me. Just stay offa my children!
I’d take any lick meant for them and do everything I could to keep them safe in life and on this journey. God so help me.