The Endless Forest
Page 72
You know the first thing I saw, when we came into Paradise? It was your man, Elizabeth. Three years old, and so full of life, you had to smile just to see that boy. We come out of the woods—the forest came all the way down to where the trading post stands today, back then, oh, yes. We come out of the woods and there was Half Moon shining in the sun, bright enough to make your eyes water. Somebody was chopping wood, and there was birdsong all around, and the air smelled so good you would want to eat it. To all that came the sound of a little child laughing. You know that laugh the little ones got, so full and deep you got no choice but to laugh along with ’em? And there was Nathaniel rough-housing with Maddie. With your mama, Elizabeth. They were playing some game with pinecones and did she have that boy wound up?
She was the prettiest thing I ever saw, was Maddie. Wasn’t much to her, you understand. Built small, but oh she was tough. She could work all day in the field and never once slack off. I never heard her complain. That morning she had just washed her hair and left it free to dry, and it floated around her like a cloud, as if those curls had someplace else to be. I can see her still when I close my eyes, how she smiled at us so open and free, and she come and took my hands in both of hers. She looked me in the eye, the way she did when she had an idea somebody needed help. Real direct. Not nosy, you understand. Not forward. She had the clearest eyes and ways of looking, I have never seen the like since. And she said how happy she was to see us but most especially me, because there wan’t any other woman her age to talk to.
You cain’t know what a shock that was. A white woman talking to me like that, like I was just the same as her. I am ashamed to say that I thought at first maybe it was a joke. Me and Leo talked it through for a long time, trying to understand how things could be so different here than they was back in Pennsylvania.
The judge came along just then. I say the judge because I cain’t think of him no other way, but back then he was just Mr. Middleton. Alfred. He cut a nice figure as a younger man, not big but right nimble, and with a fine head of fair hair and a good smile. He was proud to show us the house he built for his bride, for your ma, Elizabeth. I could show you just where it stood if we was to walk down to the lake together. There was the main cabin, three rooms—which let me tell you, was a palace back then—and windows with glass in them just about wherever you looked. There was a smaller cabin out back; the judge give that to me and Leo. All the years after, whenever I got so mad at the man I was ready to walk off, I remembered what it was like, that day.
I don’t know can you imagine it. Just a week before we was slaves, and that day we had a place to call our own. Where nobody could come in without knocking, and we could sit quiet in the evening, talking or studying. I set myself to learning to read just as soon as we got settled in, and Maddie helped me. Then when I had the trick of it, I taught Leo.
I know, I am wandering all around this story like a lost calf. Ever since you come to Paradise I know you been wondering why I ain’t ever told you about that first year. I kept it back too long, and now I ain’t sure how to go about the telling of it.
I will say something you know already about your mama. Maddie was the sweetest, most loving soul the good Lord ever put on this earth, and hardworking? She hardly slept, from what I could tell. She could be sharp when it was called for, but never spiteful. Many times I heard her tell the judge that he was acting in a way that wasn’t proper, but she said it so soft and sure not even Alfred Middleton could take offense. She say, Alfred, it ain’t right to take advantage of the trappers who don’t speak English. And he say, Maddie, of course you are right. They may figure it out one day and take their furs elsewhere. And she would sigh and shake her head, like you do sometimes yourself, Elizabeth, when you frustrated or disappointed.
The judge just could not see Maddie for the woman she was. He loved her to distraction, but he never did understand her. If she asked something solid of him, soap from Johnstown or a paper of pins, he jumped right up and made sure she had it. But there were other things she needed and she couldn’t ask for, and truth be tolt, those things she wanted, he didn’t have to give. He wan’t the man she wanted him to be.
Things went along like that, oh, close to a year, and every day she seemed a little smaller in herself, as if she was losing sight of something important that she never did mean to let go. Something was draining out of her, I could see it plain, but the judge never took note. So long as she was there to listen and put his supper on the table and keep his shirts mended, he was happy.
I suppose things might have gone on that same way for twenty years or more, but just about a year after we first got here, Gabriel Oak came to Paradise.
All that summer and into the fall we worked side by side in the garden and house, worked hard. We planted cabbage and beans and squash and a half acre of corn too. Cora showed us how to do it the Mohawk way. She spent a year at Good Pasture—I’ll bet you didn’t know that—just after she and Hawkeye got married—and she was always ready to help. Oh, and was she fond of Maddie? You could see it in the way she smiled. Cora lost her own sister in the wars and I guess Maddie helped fill that hole in her heart at least a little bit.
The three of us, we sat together many evenings with sewing or mending, and we talked. It took a long time for me to understand that it was real, that they wanted me there for more than fetching things.
She was hungry for stories, was Maddie, always wanting more. Little by little she got me to talk about my mama, and how I got sold away from her when I wan’t no older than you are now, Birdie. How I first saw Galileo on the auction block and how calm he was, how that gave me strength. Master Paxton, he bought six slaves that day and me and Leo were the youngest. She wanted to hear all about what it was like when we was young, but her favorite story was the day her daddy come and bought us away from Master Paxton. She went all quiet when I talked about her daddy. Not mad quiet, you understand, but thoughtful. I had the idea she missed him more than anybody else, but it was a good long time before she told me about how she left her family and friends to marry.
She was the prettiest thing I ever saw, was Maddie. Wasn’t much to her, you understand. Built small, but oh she was tough. She could work all day in the field and never once slack off. I never heard her complain. That morning she had just washed her hair and left it free to dry, and it floated around her like a cloud, as if those curls had someplace else to be. I can see her still when I close my eyes, how she smiled at us so open and free, and she come and took my hands in both of hers. She looked me in the eye, the way she did when she had an idea somebody needed help. Real direct. Not nosy, you understand. Not forward. She had the clearest eyes and ways of looking, I have never seen the like since. And she said how happy she was to see us but most especially me, because there wan’t any other woman her age to talk to.
You cain’t know what a shock that was. A white woman talking to me like that, like I was just the same as her. I am ashamed to say that I thought at first maybe it was a joke. Me and Leo talked it through for a long time, trying to understand how things could be so different here than they was back in Pennsylvania.
The judge came along just then. I say the judge because I cain’t think of him no other way, but back then he was just Mr. Middleton. Alfred. He cut a nice figure as a younger man, not big but right nimble, and with a fine head of fair hair and a good smile. He was proud to show us the house he built for his bride, for your ma, Elizabeth. I could show you just where it stood if we was to walk down to the lake together. There was the main cabin, three rooms—which let me tell you, was a palace back then—and windows with glass in them just about wherever you looked. There was a smaller cabin out back; the judge give that to me and Leo. All the years after, whenever I got so mad at the man I was ready to walk off, I remembered what it was like, that day.
I don’t know can you imagine it. Just a week before we was slaves, and that day we had a place to call our own. Where nobody could come in without knocking, and we could sit quiet in the evening, talking or studying. I set myself to learning to read just as soon as we got settled in, and Maddie helped me. Then when I had the trick of it, I taught Leo.
I know, I am wandering all around this story like a lost calf. Ever since you come to Paradise I know you been wondering why I ain’t ever told you about that first year. I kept it back too long, and now I ain’t sure how to go about the telling of it.
I will say something you know already about your mama. Maddie was the sweetest, most loving soul the good Lord ever put on this earth, and hardworking? She hardly slept, from what I could tell. She could be sharp when it was called for, but never spiteful. Many times I heard her tell the judge that he was acting in a way that wasn’t proper, but she said it so soft and sure not even Alfred Middleton could take offense. She say, Alfred, it ain’t right to take advantage of the trappers who don’t speak English. And he say, Maddie, of course you are right. They may figure it out one day and take their furs elsewhere. And she would sigh and shake her head, like you do sometimes yourself, Elizabeth, when you frustrated or disappointed.
The judge just could not see Maddie for the woman she was. He loved her to distraction, but he never did understand her. If she asked something solid of him, soap from Johnstown or a paper of pins, he jumped right up and made sure she had it. But there were other things she needed and she couldn’t ask for, and truth be tolt, those things she wanted, he didn’t have to give. He wan’t the man she wanted him to be.
Things went along like that, oh, close to a year, and every day she seemed a little smaller in herself, as if she was losing sight of something important that she never did mean to let go. Something was draining out of her, I could see it plain, but the judge never took note. So long as she was there to listen and put his supper on the table and keep his shirts mended, he was happy.
I suppose things might have gone on that same way for twenty years or more, but just about a year after we first got here, Gabriel Oak came to Paradise.
All that summer and into the fall we worked side by side in the garden and house, worked hard. We planted cabbage and beans and squash and a half acre of corn too. Cora showed us how to do it the Mohawk way. She spent a year at Good Pasture—I’ll bet you didn’t know that—just after she and Hawkeye got married—and she was always ready to help. Oh, and was she fond of Maddie? You could see it in the way she smiled. Cora lost her own sister in the wars and I guess Maddie helped fill that hole in her heart at least a little bit.
The three of us, we sat together many evenings with sewing or mending, and we talked. It took a long time for me to understand that it was real, that they wanted me there for more than fetching things.
She was hungry for stories, was Maddie, always wanting more. Little by little she got me to talk about my mama, and how I got sold away from her when I wan’t no older than you are now, Birdie. How I first saw Galileo on the auction block and how calm he was, how that gave me strength. Master Paxton, he bought six slaves that day and me and Leo were the youngest. She wanted to hear all about what it was like when we was young, but her favorite story was the day her daddy come and bought us away from Master Paxton. She went all quiet when I talked about her daddy. Not mad quiet, you understand, but thoughtful. I had the idea she missed him more than anybody else, but it was a good long time before she told me about how she left her family and friends to marry.
