Read Queen Page 50

for it stopped that warrn feeling inside her, stopped the tingling, and

  brought back all her old fears instead. Suddenly, he seemed to get angry,

  and moved on top of her and pushed her nightgown up, exposing parts of

  her that had not been exposed to a man, or to anyone, before. He pushed

  up his own nightshirt, and she felt the thing, hard and hot and

  throbbing, pushing against her stomach, trying to find some other place,

  and she struggled against it with all her might.

  To no avail. Jass had been dreaming of Easter. Now he wanted Easter,

  wanted her with every fiber of his being, and

  410 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  he was intolerant of Lizzie's procrastinations. The more she struggled

  against him, the more he had to find release, and suddenly he pushed inside

  her. He met some resistance and pushed again, hard again, and Lizzie cried

  out in pain, but Jass didn't stop. It had to be, and even though he didn't

  want to hurt Lizzie, she had to know that he was her husband and her Massa,

  and his rights were inviolable. To an extent, her resistance to him made him

  only more deten-nined to prove his authority to her; it excited him, because

  of that very dominance that was rightfully his.

  Lizzie could not believe the pain he caused, could not believe that he

  would willingly cause her such harm, and she knew that some little part of

  her had been ruptured and broken. He lay on her now, humping and heaving,

  while she wept, and even though the pain eventually receded and was

  replaced by a degree of pleasant feeling, she could not imagine a lifetime

  of having to submit to this awful thing whenever Jass desired it.

  He cried out and, mercifully, stopped moving. Lizzie lay wondering what

  more could possibly happen to her, and then, to her relief and surprise,

  he

  moved off and lay beside her. He said some sweet things, and drifted to

  sleep.

  Lizzie could not sleep. She lay awake until dawn, reliving every moment of

  the nightmare in her head, and weeping sometimes, for she felt as if he had

  made a great, open wound in her body that would never heal.

  It got better between them, as everyone had told her it would. It never hurt

  again as badly as the first time, and sometimes, when Jass was patient with

  her, and caressed her, Lizzie felt those nice tinglings, and sometimes

  almost felt as if she would enjoy the act itself, but it never lasted long

  enough, and Jass was always so aggressive when he was on top of her. What

  Lizzie never knew, but sometimes guessed, was that he was always thinking

  of

  Easter.

  They were cooped up in their hotel room for four days, and had their first

  rows, because Lizzie was sure she hadn't pleased him in bed and was

  determined to make up for it in other ways. She fussed over him too much,

  and tried to make decisions for him, and he got irritated. Then she got

  bored with

  MERGING 411

  the hotel room, and her temper flared, and they had a row about some silly

  thing. Jass stormed out, and Lizzie cried her distress, and when he came

  back was ready to beg his forgiveness. But when he came back he had a

  smile on his face, and apologized to her, as a gentleman should. The rain

  was easing, the roads were still impassable, but he had found a paddle

  steamer that was going upriver to Decatur and had booked them on it. The

  accommodations were fairly primitive, but at least they were on their

  journey.

  They traveled for a year, and both loved Europe, although they never came

  closer to loving each other. They settled into a pattern that suited both

  of them, which began on the Atlantic crossing. Alone of the female

  passengers, Lizzie did not succumb to seasickness and, as the only woman

  presenting herself at meals in the cramped dining room, took advantage

  of her situation, and put all of her considerable social skills on dis-

  play. Jass would watch her at lunch or dinner, a splendid hostess in an

  unlikely environment, charming them all with her wit and sense of humor.

  He was sure they could find a balance in this. She would be mistress of

  The Forks, impeccably fulfilling all their public duties, efficiently

  running their private lives. He would make love to her as their situation

  required, and she would be mother to his children, and probably a good

  mother too, Jass thought. For the side of him that needed another kind

  of love, he had his mistress, Easter.

  The conditions of their new relationship were never voiced between them,

  but Lizzie knew they existed and was not unhappy with them. Jass indulged

  her every mood and whim; in Paris she shopped until she needed several

  more cabin trunks to get her new wardrobe home, and he seldom said no to

  her. He required her presence in his bed two or three times a week, and

  Lizzie was prepared for it, and found ways to make the experience less

  arduous. In the better hotels, they would have separate bedrooms, and

  Lizzie appreciated his generosity, for she knew why it had been done. To

  show her gratitude, she made sure his life was as full and interesting

  as was within her ability to arrange, and she indulged the romantic in

  both of them by taking him to the most romantic places she could find.

  It was she who organized the dinner parties, and made them glittering

  affairs, she who organized his wardrobe and

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  his requirements, she who took him for picnics to pretty riverbanks and

  picturesque villages. She made no more demands on his time than he was

  prepared to give, and did not complain if he went exploring on his own.

  So they arrived at an understanding that made life pleasurable to both of

  them, that was based on the friendship they had before their marriage, but

  that now was deeper and more fulfilling because their lives were so

  inextricably intertwined. Each was essentially happy, and if there were

  missing elements that might have made that happiness more complete, both

  thought them a small sacrifice to make for their general sense of

  contentment.

  Sometimes Lizzie longed for children, but her fear of the pain of

  childbirth was so great she was glad she had not become pregnant.

  Sometimes Jass longed for Easter, but she was there, waiting for him, and

  his absence from her only made his heart fonder of her and, by extension,

  of Queen.

  They were away for fifteen months. It was longer than they had planned,

  but they were having such a good time they saw no need to return. The

  estate was in the capable hands of Tom Kirkman, the mansion was Sally's

  domain, and the price of cotton was high. In London, Jass met enough

  people who were sympathetic to the Southern cause to persuade him that

  the South would always have a formidable ally, and this allayed his

  concerns about the increasing friction with the North. Lizzie, for her

  part, was not overly anxious to assume her new role at The Forks, for it

  meant that she would be displacing Sally, and Liz
zie still had certain

  nervous fears about her mother-in-law.

  But eventually they got homesick, and bored with the wandering life, and

  they came home and were glad of it. They had laid the foundations of an

  excellent marriage, and were anxious to put their new domestic life into

  effect.

  Lizzie knew he would go to Easter, and she tried to block the idea from

  her mind, tried not to think about it, and mostly succeeded. There was

  nothing in the mansion to remind her of Easter's presence. The weaving

  house was discreetly tucked away, and Jass was discreet about venturing

  there. From time to time, she would see that little white pickaninny

  wandering about the plantation, and when she did, it stabbed at her heart,

  MERGING 413

  for she had not yet provided lass with an heir and had no little baby of

  her own to love, and she was jealous of Easter, because of Queen. Sally

  seemed to understand this, and fond as she was of Queen, she would try to

  see her away from the house, or at least away from Lizzie's sight. Sally

  also behaved beautifully in the matter of the succession, handing over the

  reins of running the household to Lizzie without demur, but always there

  for help and advice.

  In truth, Sally was pleased to be relieved of much of her responsibility.

  Since James died, Sally had found her role arduous, for it had lost its

  meaning for her. She had worked hard and capably all her days, and now

  she was looking forward to a rest. She made a decision that once Lizzie

  was comfortably settled in, she would travel herself for a while, not to

  Europe, that was too strenuous for her, but to friends and relatives

  throughout the South. She also intended to go North for a while, to see

  for herself what all the fuss was about. And she was pleased with Lizzie,

  for she seemed to be making Jass happy.

  Jass was happy, his life divided into compartments that made one entity.

  Always daunted by the myriad details of running the estate, he had Tom

  and Lizzie, with Sally standing by, to run the house, the plantation, and

  all the intricacies of their lives, leaving him free to concentrate on

  the overview. And he had Easter. He had gone to her on the first night

  of his return, and nothing had changed between them, and now he believed

  that nothing ever would. He had coped with all the great changes life had

  thrown at him, and survived, and there wouldn't be any more great changes

  to cope with. He was free to enjoy life.

  The only thing missing was a son, by Lizzie, and he was puzzled that she

  had shown no signs of pregnancy. He did not connect this to the fact that

  Easter had never become pregnant again, because he didn't want her to

  have another child,

  Because there was Queen, and Queen was enough for him.

  He loved her. She had grown while he was away, but was still small for

  her age, and serious and demure. She seemed to carry the weight of the

  world around with her and seldom smiled, but when she did it dazzled him

  and broke his heart. All the pent-up love he had for a child of his own

  was directed

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  toward Queen, and if that love could never be expressed, it did not in any

  way diminish its value.

  She was so pretty, too. He was out for a walk one day and saw her playing

  ring-around-the-rosy with some other slave children. He hid behind a tree

  and watched them for a while, delighting in his lovely daughter.

  The smile faded from his face as he heard what the other children were

  singing:

  "Queen, Queen, say she white, but she nigger like us!"

  Queen was standing in the center of the ring of children, tears in her

  eyes.

  "I am white," she cried. "Look at me!"

  "Queen, Queen," they chanted. "Ain't got no pappy, don't know who he is."

  "He love me," Queen called at them, in despair. "He ain't ever gonna let

  anyone hurt me!"

  The more she protested, the more they jeered, until she broke, and stood

  amongst them weeping her distress.

  Jass could not stand it. He moved quickly from behind the tree, and called

  out to them.

  "Get out of here, you little brats!"

  The sight of the Massa, angry, scared them, and they ran away. Queen was

  on

  her knees, still crying. Jass came close to her, and put an arm around her,

  told her not to cry, he wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

  "They call me names." Queen was wretched.

  Jass remembered his days at school when they used to call him "nigger

  lover" and beat him up. He smiled.

  "People used to call me names, too, when I was little," he told her, drying

  her eyes with his handkerchief. "I wonder why people do that?"

  Queen had no illusions. "Coz I different. Coz I look white. Coz I can

  read."

  Jass had no idea of this, and was shocked.

  "Don't ever tell anyone you can read, Queen," he commanded her gently.

  "Some people wouldn't like it. They might hurt you."

  She looked at him with innocent eyes. "My pappy would stop them," she said.

  "You could stop them."

  MERGING 415

  At that moment, he would have stopped the world for her. He longed, with

  all his heart to take her into his arms, and hold her close to him, and

  never let anyone hurt her, ever again. He might have done it, for her

  face was inches from his, trusting him, and he thought they were alone,

  but salvation arrived, in the form of Cap'n Jack.

  "The chile botherin' yo', Massa?" If Cap'n Jack had known what was in

  Jass's heart, he might have stolen away, and left his granddaughter to

  her father's love. But he did not know. How could he know?

  Jass stood up and told Cap'n Jack to take her to the kitchen and find her

  some candy. Something in his tone told Cap'n Jack what he could not have

  known before. Queen ran to her gran pappy s arms.

  "She been trouble, Massa?" Cap'n Jack asked.

  "No trouble at all," Jass replied.

  He knew who was teaching her to read and did not mind. He would have

  stopped it with any other slave, but his daughter was different. He went

  to his study, and then to the weaving house, which was empty.

  Easter came back with provisions and found Jass hunting through the few

  drawers and cupboards. She was surprised. He seldom came to her in

  daylight anymore. He ignored her.

  "What you looking for?" she asked, dumping her vegetables on the table.

  "Nothing," he said, casually. Then he found Cap'n Jack's homemade

  alphabet cards, and showed them to her. In that moment, Easter was

  fearful, even of him.

  "What are these?" His voice was even, and Easter looked him in the eye.

  Her fear passed.

  "Nuttin'," she said.

  Jass grunted, and put the cards back where he had found them. He took a

  couple of small books from his pocket and put them with the cards.

  "What that?" Easter was puzzled.

  "Nuttin'," he said, with a poker face
, and a grin twitching at the comers

  of his mouth. He moved into her arms and kissed her, and they made love

  in the warm afternoon.

  When he had gone, Easter looked at the books he had left.

  416 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  She could not read the books, but she understood the pictures. They were

  children's books, of fairy stories.

  Another book, recently published and not available at The Forks of

  Cypress, was causing uproar throughout the country. Called Uncle Tom's

  Cabin, its presentation of plantation life, and the way whites treated

  niggers, was causing astonishing and renewed debate in the North about

  slavery. Those Southemers who had read it had originally dismissed it as

  a fiction, but the intensity of the Northern passions it had aroused

  caused fury to replace apathy in the South. Lizzie was terrified of it,

  not for itself, for she had never read it, but of the storm it had

  created. The new Republican party had always espoused the cause of

  abolition, but now one of its younger politicians, Abraham Lincoln, had

  made a passionate speech in Peoria, denouncing slavery. He appeared to

  have tremendous support in the North, and there was even talk that

  eventually the issue would be decided by violence. Certainly all of

  Lizzie's male friends claimed they were ready to make the ultimate

  sacrifice to defend the slaveholding states and their life-style. Lizzie

  found herself weeping at the slightest provocation these days.

  She was pregnant. She was appalled at the prospect of bringing a child

  into such an unstable world, and she did not understand that much of the

  emotional tightrope she was walking was because of her condition. She was

  sick every morning, which she hated, her ankles seemed to be swelling

  already, although she had months to go, she was getting headaches, and

  she was dreading the prospect of the pain of giving birth. She came into

  the dining room one evening, saw that the silverware had not been

  polished to her liking, and burst into tears again. Sally, who had

  followed her in, was calm and kindly, and sat her down, and Lizzle

  couldn't contain herself any longer, and told Sally the awful truth.

  Sally didn't laugh. She saw that Lizzie was genuinely scared of what was

  happening to her body and had not been educated to understand the natural

  processes. She calmed Lizzie, and told her things that Becky should have

  told her long ago, and by the time Jass, who had been delayed in

  Florence, came in, Lizzie had ceased crying but was not in the brightest

  mood.

  "Why's everyone so glum?" He was in a splendid mood

  MERGING 417

  himself The tension between the North and the South had caused the price

  of cotton to go sky-high in London.

  Knowing he didn't know, Sally tried to cover for Lizzie.

  "We've been discussing politics," she said.

  "Something ladies shouldn't bother their pretty little heads about," Jass

  laughed, and rang the bell for soup. He was hungry. To his surprise, both

  women snapped at him.

  "Don't be patronizing, Jass!" Sally barked.

  "Of course it bothers us!" Lizzie was all fire. "All this fuss with the

  Yankees, we could all be murdered in our beds-"

  'Parson Dick and Polly came in with the soup.

  --like that dreadful business with Nat Turner killing white women and

  children-"

  Jass, surprised at what he had unleashed, tried to calm her. "That was

  years ago," he began, but Lizzie was unstoppable.

  "And everyone's saying there could even be a war, and then we'd all be

  killed and what am I going to do about my poor little baby?"

  That stopped everyone, Parson Dick glanced at Polly.

  Jass broke the silence. "What baby?"

  Now that it was out in the open, Lizzie wondered why she had been afraid

  to tell him, and felt an enormous sense of triumph. She became impossibly

  coy.

  "A little flower is growing under my heart," she simpered, and hoped she

  looked suitably maternal.

  Jass was thrilled.

  "Oh, Lizzie, that's wonderful!" He hardly knew how to express his joy.