Beaufort, South Carolina February 1861
Cold rain soaked right through Kitty’s dress as she ran outside from the town house to the kitchen. Inside, the kitchen’s steamy warmth smelled of coffee and wood smoke. Faye, the cook, looked so comfortable sitting near the fire with Delia and Grady that Kitty hated to disturb her.
“Missy Claire and her mama would like some tea,” she said, out of breath. At home Kitty would have fixed the tray herself, but she didn’t know her way around Faye’s kitchen yet.
“They wanting something to eat, too?” Faye asked as she rose to her feet.
“I-I don’t know,” Kitty stammered. “I’ll go back and ask.”
Delia stopped her before she could open the door. “Wait a minute, honey. Don’t go running out in the cold again. We’ll fix a little something and if they don’t want it, they don’t have to eat it.” She got up to help Faye with the tea tray.
Kitty had only known Delia for a few months, but she had already grown very fond of the little woman. She didn’t always understand everything Delia said, especially when she started talking about Jesus. But Delia always watched out for Kitty, making sure she had enough to eat and a chance to sit down for a moment’s rest. When Kitty had first seen Grady hugging her, she had thought Delia was his mother. Then she remembered his story about being sold from his home and forced to live with a slave trader.
“Seems like Missus Fuller’s mama is just as mean as Missy is,” Grady mumbled. “Why is she ordering everybody around all the time? What’s she doing here, anyway? When’s she going on back to Charleston?”
Kitty glanced nervously out the window, worried that Missus Goodman might have followed her outside and overheard him. She often did that back home—listening in on the servants’ conversations to see what they were up to. “Poor Missy was feeling a little lonely and homesick,” Kitty said, “so her mama come for a visit. Missy don’t know anybody here in Beaufort, and Massa Fuller’s gone so much.”
“Poor Missy …” Grady repeated, mimicking her.
“Where’d Massa Fuller run off to this time?” Faye asked as she filled the teapot with water.
“He took the train down to Alabama,” Grady said. “They’re starting a new government down there with all them other states that seceded.”
“Can they do that?” Delia asked.
Grady shrugged. “I guess so, because that’s what they’re doing. Massa told me we was starting the new year in a brand-new country. And you know why, don’t you? Just so they can keep us all slaves.”
Kitty didn’t understand it all, but she’d overheard enough conversations in the Big House to know that all the white folks were afraid that a war was about to start. She thanked Faye and Delia for the tray when it was ready, then hurried back into the house.
Missy and her mother sat by the fireplace in the front parlor. Martin had built a fire for them earlier to help take the chill off the winter afternoon. Kitty set the tray on the table between them, idly listening to their conversation as she arranged the cups and poured the tea.
“You’ll need to start looking for a wet nurse,” she heard Missus Goodman tell Missy. “It may not be long before you start your own family, and every woman needs a black mammy to nurse her babies for her. Believe me, that’s not something a proper lady ever wants to do.”
“Could you send Mammy Bertha to me?” Claire asked.
“Heavens, Claire, she’s much too old. She suckled you and your sisters when you were small. Doesn’t Roger have any house slaves who might be in a family way?”
“Not that I know of. His house slaves all seem a lot older than ours. The head woman, Delia, is older than Mammy Bertha. I think Minnie and Faye are, too.”
Kitty stood to one side as the ladies sipped their tea, waiting to be excused. Should she just slip away or would that make Missy angry? Kitty decided to stay.
“You don’t really want to bring a field slave up to the house,” Missus Goodman said. “They’re much too coarse and rough.”
“And they’re too dark,” Missy added. “The ones with jetblack skin frighten me.”
“What about your girl, Kitty?”
She heard her name but didn’t dare react unless it was a command. She stood perfectly still with her eyes downcast, pretending she couldn’t hear.
“Kitty isn’t even married,” Missy said with a little laugh.
“Slaves don’t marry, Claire. We don’t hold weddings for cows and horses, do we? Well, there’s no such thing as marriages for slaves, either.”
Kitty thought of Bessie and Albert back in Charleston. They seemed like husband and wife. They even called each other that. So did Minnie and Jim here in Beaufort.
“Slaves don’t have the same feelings we do,” Missus Goodman continued. “They’re simple creatures. And they live with anybody and everybody down on Slave Row without ever bothering to get married. Part of an owner’s job is to direct their breeding in order to produce the best possible stock. I’m sure Roger does it all the time. That’s how owners produce the next generation of slaves. It saves a lot of money, too. Negroes can be expensive if you have to buy them off the auction block, but if you breed them yourself you can replenish your stock and sell all the extra ones at a profit.”
“I’m glad that’s Roger’s job and not mine,” Missy said with a 173 shiver.
“Well, it will be your job if you want a wet nurse for your baby. If you want milk, you have to send your cow to a bull to be freshened. We get a wet nurse the same way.”
“Mother, please.”
“Well, it’s the same thing. Slaves aren’t like us, Claire. You’re always forgetting that. Kitty is your property, and if you want her to be your child’s nurse then she’ll need to be bred so she’ll have a baby before you do.”
Kitty had only a vague idea what they were talking about. Their words sounded frightening—and embarrassing—to her.
“Is that what you did with Mammy Bertha?” Claire asked.
“Of course. Bertha always bred quickly, too. She made a fine nurse.”
“Where did all her babies go? I don’t recall any black babies running around the house when Katie and Mary were little.”
“Of course not. You don’t think I’d allow them in my house, do you? Slave babies are raised down on Slave Row. Kitty, come here,” she ordered suddenly.
Kitty jumped to attention, hurrying over to stand by the tea table. “Yes, ma’am? You want me to pour more tea?”
“Not now. Look, you’re comfortable with her, aren’t you, Claire?” Missus Goodman asked, pointing to Kitty.
“Of course. Kitty’s been my slave for years—you know that.”
“Then she’s obviously the best choice. But you’d better arrange to have her bred soon.”
Claire’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. “How do I go about that? Choosing the … you know, her partner?”
“It’s simply a matter of seeing who’s available and then making the best selection. Roger’s butler seems suitable. What’s his name?”
“You mean Martin? I’d feel funny asking him.”
“You don’t ask, Claire, you command. You’re the lady of the house. You simply give orders and your slaves are expected to obey them. And you must punish them severely if they don’t. You have a right to breed any of your slaves that way, any time you want to.”
“This is very … distasteful.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! Stop reading emotions into this that aren’t there. Negroes aren’t like us. Look at her! And unless you want some slave up in your nursery who’s as black as soot and just as filthy, you’d better take care of this matter soon.”
“All right,” Claire said with a sigh. “When I meet with Delia and Martin tomorrow morning to plan the meals and so on, I’ll talk to him.”
Missus Goodman turned to Kitty again, her face stern. “Listen to me, girl. It’s an honor to be chosen as Claire’s wet nurse. That job is even more important than being her chambermaid. You’ll be entrusted with your mistress’s children. But in order to get that job, you’ll have to do whatever Claire says. If she tells you to sleep with Martin, you’ll do it. Do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. I-I like babies.”
Kitty didn’t know Martin very well, and he scared her. She couldn’t imagine sleeping in a bed with him—or doing whatever it was that people did there. But she was even more frightened of Missus Goodman. If having a baby was important to her and Missy, then Kitty would have to do whatever she was told.
Kitty thought about the conversation she’d overheard for the rest of the day. Gradually, the idea of taking care of Missy’s little babies—and of having a baby of her own—began to excite her. She had helped Mammy Bertha take care of Missy Kate and Missy Mary when they were babies, and she always enjoyed snuggling them in her arms, making them giggle, even rocking them to sleep sometimes. Kitty convinced herself to think about all those good things—and to push aside the shame she felt at the thought of sleeping with Martin.
When she saw Delia alone in the warming kitchen that night, Kitty decided to tell her about the new job. She had learned to trust Delia these past few months, and knew she could confide in her. Delia would understand Kitty’s fear and embarrassment—and ignorance—of making a baby.
“I’m getting a new job, Delia,” she said shyly. “Missy’s going to let me be a wet nurse.”
“A wet nurse!” Delia’s eyes widened. She leaned close to lay her hand on Kitty’s stomach. “You got a baby growing in there, honey?”
“No, not yet. Missy says I have to sleep with Martin first.”
“What?” Grady shouted.
Kitty whirled around and was horrified to see him standing in the doorway.
“I-it’s a very important job,” she hurried to explain. “If I have a baby, then I can take care of Missy’s baby when she and Massa Fuller have one.”
Her words seemed to infuriate Grady even more. He strode into the room, his face rigid with anger. “It ain’t right! She can’t make you do that!”
“Yes, she can,” Delia said grimly. “Old Missus Fuller done it to me, only she didn’t pick another slave. The white overseer was already taking advantage of me. Wasn’t nothing I could do about it, either. I had his baby just a few months before Massa Roger was born. That’s how come I could be his mammy.”
“But it’s wrong!” Grady shouted. “We have to put a stop to this!”
“No, wait. It’s okay,” Kitty said. She had to pretend that everything was fine, that she wanted to be a wet nurse. She didn’t want to get into trouble with her mistress. “Missy’s mama says they’re always doing it this way.”
“Do you know anything at all about how babies are made?” Delia asked her.
Kitty’s face felt warm with shame. “I know Missy Claire married Massa. Now they sleep together and … and they want a new baby.”
“That’s right,” Delia said. “Missy and Massa Fuller got married. You ain’t married, Kitty.”
“Missus Goodman says colored folks don’t get married. She says there ain’t no weddings for cows and horses, and there ain’t none for slaves, either.”
Grady scooped a tin cup off the table and threw it, shouting, “Missus Goodman is wrong!” It bounced against the wall with a crash.
Fear tingled through Kitty. She glanced at the door, worried that Missus Goodman would hear the commotion and storm into the kitchen to punish them.
“Grady, calm down,” Delia said.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he shouted. “My mother went through the same thing! My first massa …” He couldn’t finish.
“I know, honey, but you’re scaring her.” Delia turned to Kitty again. “Slaves certainly do get married. We call it ‘jumping the broom.’ It’s the same thing as the white folks’ weddings, with a preacher and everything. But slave or not, the Bible says it’s wrong to be making a baby with a man unless you’re married to him in the sight of God.”
“I have to do what Missy says, don’t I?” Kitty was so scared she could barely hold back her tears. She never should have told Delia. Now she and Grady were both upset, and Kitty was going to get into trouble for it.
“Please don’t say anything,” she begged. “Missy will get mad at me if I don’t obey her, and she’ll send me away to work in the rice fields again.”
Delia pulled Kitty into her arms. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll talk to Massa Roger for you. He’s a good, God-fearing man. I know he won’t allow this.”
“He ain’t home,” Grady said. “And he ain’t coming home until next week.”
“Do you know how soon your Missy’s planning this?” Delia asked.
Kitty squirmed out of Delia’s arms and inched toward the door. She didn’t want to say another word. She’d said too much already. “I need to go back upstairs. Missy will be looking for me.”
“Wait,” Delia said, stopping her. “I know you want to obey your mistress, but what she’s planning on doing ain’t right. You don’t have any feelings for Martin. You don’t want to be sleeping with him, do you?”
“No, but—”
“Then it’s wrong for Missy to try and use you this way, just so she can get what she wants. Making babies is a God-given blessing when a man and woman love each other, when they’re married to each other. It’s wrong for Missy or anyone else to choose a man for you and force you to have a baby with him. Do you understand?”
Tears rolled down Kitty’s cheeks. “I guess so, but—”
“Then please tell me when Missy’s planning to do this. You won’t get into trouble, I promise.”
Kitty hesitated, unsure what to do. Grady looked angry enough to beat the truth out of her if she didn’t tell. She decided to trust Delia. “Missy says she’s going to talk to Martin tomorrow morning.”
“We can’t let this happen to her!” Grady shouted. “We’re people, not animals! They can’t be treating us this way! We have to hide her, Delia. Or help her run away.”
“No!” Kitty cried out. “Terrible things happen if you try and run. They always catch you and—” She couldn’t say the words. “I don’t mind having a baby if that’s what Missy wants. It don’t matter.” She tried to leave again, but Delia stopped her.
“Yes, it certainly does matter,” she said. “Grady’s right. We need to stop this, but running away ain’t the answer. Maybe I can talk to Martin, and—”
“I’ll marry her,” Grady said.
Delia frowned. “How’s that going to help?”
Grady reached for Kitty’s hand, holding it gently in both of his. “You and me, Kitty—we’ll jump the broom, okay?”
“Why are you offering?” Delia asked him.
Grady drew a deep breath. “When I worked for that slave trader I had to watch white folks mistreating slaves every single day for four years. And I had to help them do it. I hated it, Delia, and I swore I ain’t gonna stand by and let them mistreat us no more. If I can stop this from happening to Kitty, I will. Missy can’t be forcing her to sleep with Martin or anyone else if she’s my wife. But I won’t take advantage of her. We won’t make a baby.”
“But Missy says I have to have a baby before she does or—”
“No! We ain’t helping the white people get one more slave! Listen, Delia. They won’t ever know that she’s my wife in name only. We’ll get even with them. This is how we’ll fight back. Someday when Kitty falls in love, she’ll be free to be a real wife to someone because we won’t …” His voice trailed off. “I won’t touch her, Delia. I swear.”
Delia studied him for a long moment. “You know you can’t be running all around with other girls no more if you supposed to be married.”
“I know. Will you help me do this, Delia?”
Kitty pulled her hand free from Grady’s. She was very surprised that he’d promised to give up all his other girlfriends for her, but Missy would be furious if she and Grady didn’t have a baby. “Please, I have to do what Missy says,” she begged.
“You will, honey,” Delia said. “Except that Grady wants to marry you. Wouldn’t you rather be living with him than Martin?”
Kitty had often wished that Grady would take her in his arms again and kiss her the way he once had. She envied the closeness she saw between Missy Claire and Massa Fuller. “Yes, I guess so. But Missy Claire says—”
“I’ll talk to Missy Claire,” Delia said. “Don’t you be worrying about a thing. She won’t ever know what we talked about, I promise.”
Delia felt torn. It seemed like a crime to keep that poor girl so beaten down she had no self-respect at all. But if Delia taught Kitty to respect herself, then the abuse she suffered at her mistress’s hands would become torture. It would probably break Kitty’s heart to discover that the woman she thought cared for her was really mistreating her. Kitty had nobody else in the world to love, and the truth might even destroy her. Delia had tried to tell her about God’s love, but so far her words had been met with true incomprehension.
At the same time, Grady’s offer to marry Kitty had given Delia great hope for him. Even if his motives were revenge and the desire to fight back, he seemed to care about someone other than himself. Maybe this was the Lord’s way of reaching Grady, to get him settled down and married. Maybe having a wife and babies to love would help crowd out the hatred. Because there was no doubt in Delia’s mind that Grady would never be able to resist loving a girl as pretty as Kitty.
Delia didn’t sleep much that night as she tried to sort out what the Lord was trying to do. And to make matters worse, this whole nasty business had stirred up memories of the abuse she had suffered. The Lord had helped her to forgive, in time. He’d given her a beautiful baby girl—a child who wasn’t to blame for her father’s crime. Hating was a poison, she’d learned, and God had worked everything out in the end. But even though the Lord had healed Delia’s heart, it didn’t stop the pain and sorrow from being stirred up all over again like coals of a fire when she saw another innocent slave girl about to be abused the same way.
Delia felt as though she’d lost a week’s worth of sleep instead of one night’s as she met with Missus Fuller and Martin in the morning room the next day. They met this way every day to discuss how the household would be run, what meals would be served, which guests were expected, and all the other tasks that needed to be done around the house. But after what Kitty had confided, Delia had a hard time feeling the respect she knew she should have for her mistress. She’d only known the new Missus Fuller for a short time, but she already wondered why Massa Roger had ever chosen to marry such a selfish, spoiled woman.
She’d prayed all night, hoping that Kitty had misunderstood; hoping that it was Missus Goodman’s idea, not Missy Claire’s, and that Missy would never carry out such a plan to mistreat her lifelong friend. Delia barely heard all of the other orders for the day as she continued to pray, asking the Lord to spare Kitty the abuse Delia herself had once suffered. But when the meeting was finished she heard Missy say, “You’re excused, Delia. Martin, stay for a moment longer. I need to have a word with you.”
Delia hadn’t truly believed anyone could be so cruel until that moment. The injustice made her angry enough to tell a lie. God forgive her, but she would do it—not for revenge, but for Kitty’s sake.
“Missus Fuller, there’s something else I need to be asking you before I go,” she said. “It’s about your chambermaid, Kitty.”
“Yes, what about her?”
Delia forced a big smile. “She’s telling me all about how you’re gonna give her the job of wet nurse, and she’s real happy to have such a fine job. I was a wet nurse for Massa Roger when he was just a tiny baby and I know what a fine thing it is to be trusted with Massa’s little baby that way. Kitty’s real proud that you’re asking her, ma’am.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“She’s afraid to tell you this, ma’am … but she’s having someone else in mind to be the daddy of her baby.”
Missus Fuller frowned as if the idea was ridiculous. “Oh, really? Who’s that?”
“Massa’s coachman, ma’am. His name’s Grady. He’s a strong, healthy young boy, and I know he can be making a whole bunch of slave babies with her if you give him a chance. Massa Fuller thinks the world of Grady, too, don’t he, Martin?”
The butler looked at Delia warily, as if unsure where this conversation was headed. “That’s true enough, ma’am,” he finally said. “Grady’s been working real hard for Massa all the years he’s owning him.”
“Grady’s wanting to be with Kitty, too,” Delia added. “They can be making babies in no time at all.”
It pleased Delia to see that Missy Claire was blushing. The color showed up plain as day on her white face. Missy should feel embarrassed for what she was forcing her slaves to do. Delia only hoped she hadn’t gone too far and made Claire angry by being so blunt.
“Fine. Kitty can be with the coachman,” Claire said. “Is that all, Delia?”
“Then they have your permission to jump the broom?”
“To what?”
“That’s the slave folks’ ceremony for getting married. Massa Fuller always allows us to jump the broom as long as we ask him first. He knows his slaves are happier and they’re working harder if they’re getting married and having families of their own. Kitty and Grady will be needing your permission, since Massa ain’t here. But once they jump the broom, I’m sure they’ll do what you want them to do right away.”
Missy’s cheeks were so bright it was as if she had stood uncovered in the sun too long. She seemed very eager to end this discussion. “Fine. Have your little broom ceremony or whatever you call it,” she said with a wave of her hand, “as long as it doesn’t interfere with Kitty’s work. Tell the two of them this won’t change any of their other duties.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
As Delia left the room, she heard Missy say, “Never mind, Martin. You’re excused.”
Grady stood alone in Massa’s rear courtyard, staring blindly at the puddles that dotted the brick pavement. The wind blew through the tree branches overhead, showering Grady with drops of cold water. It had finally stopped raining, but the night was cloudy and moonless. He and Kitty would have to jump the broom by lantern light.
He had wanted to get their phony wedding over with quickly, with no fussing at all. But Massa had returned home earlier than expected and insisted on throwing a regular party for Grady and his bride. Massa told them to wait until Saturday night, the end of a long workday, so the slaves could stay up late and have the following day free.
“Invite all your friends,” he’d insisted. “Faye can roast some pork and we’ll buy a keg of cider.” Massa Fuller even promised to come outside with his wife to watch.
“You sure picked a gloomy night to get married, young man.” Grady turned to face a tall white man dressed in black. He was wearing a preacher’s collar. “I’m Reverend John Howard, and I’m here to perform the ceremony,” he said with a smile. “Delia tells me you’re the lucky groom.”
“That’s right. I am.” This wedding was getting out of hand as far as Grady was concerned. He certainly hadn’t wanted no preacher-man to come—and a white preacher, at that. “Where’s Delia?” he asked harshly. The preacher’s smile faded.
“She and the others are setting up the buffet table in the washhouse in case it starts raining again.”
“Excuse me. I need to have a word with her.”
“Now what?” Delia said when Grady pulled her aside. “You ain’t having second thoughts, are you?”
“What’s he doing here?” Grady asked, gesturing to the minister with a tilt of his head. “I don’t want no preacher at this thing. He ain’t supposed to be part of this. We was just gonna jump the broom, plain and simple.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Delia said. “I ain’t letting you two set up housekeeping together unless you’re married in the sight of God. Reverend Howard’s here to make sure everything’s legal.”
“I already told you, I ain’t touching Kitty. Don’t you trust me?”
Delia shook her head. “No, sir. You’re only human, Grady. But that ain’t why I asked him here. The other slaves are gonna know if it’s fake. So will Massa Fuller. We ain’t fooling him or anybody else. I’m doing this to protect Kitty from her missy, because she’s gonna get good and mad when you and Kitty don’t have a baby on time. We got to make sure she don’t give Kitty away to another man.”
“I still don’t see why we need a preacher.”
“He ain’t here for you, he’s here for Kitty. That gal deserves to have a real wedding with a real man of God. He’s gonna write everything down in his record book: On this date Massa Fuller’s coachman, Grady, and Missus Fuller’s chambermaid, Kitty, was legally married in the sight of God. Amen.”
Grady stormed across the courtyard and up to his room above the stable to let his temper cool. The room, which used to be Jesse’s, looked different already with Kitty’s bundle of clothing and other belongings setting in the corner. Jim had built a new bed for the two of them, and it took up a lot more space in the room than Grady’s old one had. He’d moved his old bed downstairs to an empty corner of the stable. No one would know that he crept down there every night to sleep.
Grady lit a lantern so Kitty could find her way upstairs in the dark later on, and he noticed her pile of drawings lying on top of her other belongings. He picked up the pages and rifled through them, shaking his head at the simple beauty of her work. How did she capture the grace of a tree or a bird or a face in just a few simple lines the way she did? It bothered him to see that she still crowded dozens of pictures onto one page in order to save paper, filling both the back and the front. Didn’t she have anyone she could trust to buy her some more paper once it ran out? Grady knew the answer to that question.
He sighed and put the pictures back where he’d found them. Delia was right; no telling what Missus Fuller would do if she found out Kitty was deceiving her. He supposed he could put up with a white preacher and a little Jesus-talk for Kitty’s sake.
When everything was ready, Kitty came down from her old bedroom to stand beside Grady in the courtyard. She wore one of the only two dresses she owned, but she had removed her work apron for the occasion. She looked scared to death. When Grady took her hand in his it felt as cold as spring water. He felt angry, not scared—furious with all these white people for making this sham marriage necessary. He barely paid attention to the minister as he made Grady promise to love Kitty all of his life and she promised to love him in return. Instead, he silently raged at the injustice that forced them to do this.
Massa Fuller and his wife had come out to watch, standing off to one side, away from all the slaves. Grady was aware of Missus Fuller’s sharp eyes on them, so when Reverend Howard said, “You may kiss your bride,” he kissed Kitty with more than enough passion to be convincing. They were legally married.
Next thing Grady knew, Martin and Delia were standing in front of him and Kitty, holding up an old broomstick. “Time to jump the broom,” Delia said. “Whoever lands first is gonna be head of the house.”
Grady put his arm around Kitty’s waist so she wouldn’t trip over the handle—but he made sure he landed first. “Kiss her again!” Jim shouted, and all the slaves began banging pots and clapping their hands until he did.
The night was cold and raw, and as soon as Massa Fuller had offered his congratulations, he and his wife went back inside the house. Grady was relieved when they took the white minister with them. Everyone else crowded into the washhouse where Faye and the others had prepared a table full of food. Jim had built a fire. The party grew noisy as people ate and drank their fill. Everyone seemed happy for them, offering Grady and Kitty their wishes for a long, happy marriage. He felt a little ashamed for deceiving them, but Delia had insisted that no one but the three of them should ever know the truth.
When the food was gone and the night had grown late, the guests all began clapping and cheering and banging pots, refusing to stop until Grady carried his bride into the stable and up the stairs to their room. The guests stood outside in the courtyard below his window, continuing their racket as Grady snuffed out the lantern. He and Kitty sat side by side on the bed until the wild cheers finally subsided below them.
“It’s dark in here,” Kitty whispered.
“Yeah. There’s no moon tonight… . Are you okay?Want me to build a fire?”
“No.” She exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath all night. “I sure hope Missy don’t find out that the only reason we done this was to make her mad. You didn’t tell nobody, did you?”
“Of course not. But that ain’t the only reason, you know.” It was hard for Grady to admit the truth, especially to himself. “I did it so you wouldn’t get hurt. I like you, Kitty. We’re … we’re friends, ain’t we?”
“Yeah. We are.”
“Kitty,” he began, then stopped. He hated calling her by that name, an animal’s name, especially after Missy Claire had tried to breed her like one, saying she had no more feelings than a horse or cow. “Is Kitty your real name or is it short for Kate or Katherine or something?”
“Missy Claire named me Kitty the first day I came to live in the Big House. Her mama wouldn’t let her have a real cat, so she pretended I was her kitten.”
“What!”
“Shh … It don’t matter, Grady,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I had fun being a cat. After a while the name just stuck to me, I guess.”
He clenched his jaw, wanting to murder Missus Fuller. “What was your name before that?” he asked when he could speak.
“Why are you so angry? How come talking about names makes you so mad?”
He drew a deep breath, then exhaled, trying to calm himself. “My mama named me Grady. That’s my name—the one she gave me. When the slave trader bought me he changed it to Joe. It was his way of having control over me. You have a lot of power over somebody if you can change who he is. See this scar on my forehead? I made the mistake once of telling him my name was Grady, not Joe. He beat me with a fireplace poker for it. But my name ain’t Joe. It’s Grady.”
She touched his forehead lightly, then looked away.
“Don’t give that white lady power over who you are. She has no right to be changing your name and … and turning you into an animal. Only a mama who knows you and loves you has the right to name you.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “My mama called me Anna.”
“Anna,” he repeated. “That’s beautiful. Just like you are. From now on I’m going to call you Anna, too.”
“Please don’t do that. Missy’s gonna get real mad if she hears you calling me that.”
“She won’t hear me. Besides, that’s what this is all about,” he said, gesturing to the room. “That’s why we jumped the broom.”
“Because you want to make Missy mad?”
“No. I want to stop her from hurting you. I just wish …”
“What?”
“I wish you wouldn’t be letting her treat you the way she does. I wish you could see that it’s wrong and … and that you’d want to fight back as much as I do. You deserve better.”
“It don’t matter to me, Grady. I learned a long time ago that it don’t do any good to be getting mad at Missy. I’m still her slave. That ain’t never going to change. This is just the way Missy is. She can’t help it.”
“See? That’s what I mean. You don’t even realize what she’s doing to you.”
“But I’m happy, Grady. Are you?”
“How can I possibly be happy when my life ain’t my own? When I’m somebody’s slave? Their property?”
“You get angry so fast, and it seems like for no reason at all, sometimes. I don’t want to be mad all the time like you are. I can’t be living that way. Tell you the truth, you scare me a little. I think you could get mad enough to hurt somebody.”
Grady gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Don’t be scared of me, Anna. I’d never hurt you.”
“I been with Missy a long time. I know that even when she’s acting angry, she don’t really mean it. But I think you do mean it.”
He released her again. “If I’m angry, it’s because we were meant to be free and we ain’t.”
“Does getting mad change anything? Does it make you free?”
“It helps me, okay? Your way of dealing with it is to shrug it off. Getting mad is my way.”
“How does hating white people help?”
“It’s their own fault if I hate them! They taught me how. My first master was my own father—and he sold me! The second one used to beat me just because he enjoyed it. He was always trying to break my will, pounding all the hope right out of me. Then there were the four white boys who lived near Massa’s plantation. You want to see what they done to me? For no reason?” He lifted his shirt and turned so Kitty could see his back. Her icy fingers caressed his skin as she felt the lumpy scars.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it!” He pulled his shirt down again and stood up to tuck it in.
“That ain’t what I meant, Grady. I’m sorry you been treated so bad. I never had it as bad as you, or maybe I’d be angry, too.”
“But you have been treated badly. I wish I could make you understand that. Missy ain’t your friend. What she wanted to force you to do with Martin was just as bad, just as degrading as what them four white boys done to me.”
Kitty closed her eyes. Grady was afraid she was going to cry. When she opened them again she said, “Then I’m glad that you saved me, Grady. Thank you.”
Her words defused his anger. He stood, looking down at her, then bent and took her face in his hands. He kissed her gently.
“Good night, Anna,” he whispered.
Grady longed to stay with her. But he refused to give the white folks what they wanted, even if it meant giving up what he wanted. He left his wife sitting on the bed in the dark and hurried downstairs to sleep, alone.