*Note: Any reference to "Negroes", "Blacks", or any other term denoting African American decent is not intended as a racial slur. These terms are simply present to preserve the historical accuracy of the story. The plight of African American's in U. S. history is not a joke nor would I ever treat it as such. This is a fictional story and is not meant to promote any negative opinion or racism in general.*
*My second fic. I hope you like it! Please review if you do!*
It was the summer of 1911 and a disapproving mother stood on the back porch of her plantation house squinting into the sun. She had been calling for her two daughters and was anxious to have them clean and presentable before their father returned. Holding her hand up over her eyes like a visor she finally caught sight of them running toward her through the cotton, the older one pulling the younger along behind her. The two girls were as much alike as they were different. They both had dark hair and bright blue eyes but the older one was small and willowy, with a pixie-like face, and the younger one was tall for her age and had a soft roundness to her features.
"Mary Alice, Cynthia! Where have you been! I've been out here calling for you for twenty minutes now. Your daddy's comming home and he's not gonna like it if you two aren't clean and dressed for supper."
The younger one piped up, because she was the type to do so, always saying whatever was on her mind.
"Aw momma, we were just having fun. I think we look just fine for supper. It's not like we're having visitors or anything." She pushed a stray hair out of her eyes which left a smudge of dirt where her hand had been.
"Now look what you've done. You're filthy, both of you. Now get inside. You're going to need a bath."
The two girls obeyed, because that was the way children behaved in those days, but both had the look that they would rather be dipped in acid than in a washtub. The mother pushed them along as if she was herding two small sheep and they reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. Rapidly loosing patience the mother stripped them down roughly and began scrubbing them equally so as soon as they had climbed into the tub. When they were finally clean and dried, standing there wrapped in towels, Cynthia began chatting animatedly about what the two had been up to that day. Cynthia had a problem with knowing what to say and when to say it, so Mary Alice, being older and wiser, tried to shush her before she incriminated them, but she wasn't fast enough.
"Guess what momma, Tanna taught us a new dance today..." She was going to say more but both her sister and her mother cut her off.
"Don't stupid!" Mary Alice said slapping her hand over Cynthia's mouth.
"Tanna?" Said their mother, her eyebrows pulling together as a scowl made it's home on her lips, "I thought I told you two not to be playing down there with those little Negroes! Their not Christian! I wouldn't be surprised if you came back with some sort of spell put on you!"
She then struck them smartly across their faces. Cynthia whimpered quietly and let a few tears slip down her face, but Mary Alice just bit her lip and didn't make a sound. She hated to let her mother see that she was hurt. Tanna was her best and only friend. Her mother and father would never understand. She loved Tanna and she loved the Africans with their brightly colored clothes and whirling dances around the fire, their drums beating out deep, clear rhythms like thunder causing the blood to quicken in her veins.
"We're sorry momma," They recited in unison, though Mary Alice was not sorry at all.
When their father arrived the household seemed to be performing a delicate dance, one which even the slightest misstep could destroy. Everyone tiptoed around the father afraid to upset him even the slightest bit. The girls talked to him about their lessons and their daily routines as if reciting lines from a script and the mother spoke to him very little except to ask if he needed anything every so often.
They all sat around the lavishly set table dressed in the best clothes money could buy, eating delicacies no ordinary person could afford and all the while feeling as though they were in the presence of a living time-bomb. The mother, Caroline, sometimes thought that she would have given up all the money in the world to have a different sort of husband. One who let the small things slip by unnoticed and enjoyed life rather than seeking only to profit from it. It was just after the maid had served their desert that the three girls learned something disconcerting from the father, something which left Mary Alice tossing and turning at night in her bed and wholly preoccupied during the day.
"How old are you getting to be, Mary Alice," He asked suddenly.
Mary Alice was startled by being addressed so abruptly. She was weary of having her father's attention solely on her, but she answered him quickly her voice slightly squeaky with fear.
"Ten. I'm ten."
"Well," he said, a hint of greed etched into his features, "Wont be long now. That Rosemond boy is about the same age as you. What a good little match we have on our hands. Maybe I should arrange a meeting for the two of you. How would you like that?"
"That would be nice daddy," she said, afraid that she had not masked her trepidation well enough. She had no interest in such a meeting and the thought of it only left a sour taste in her mouth, a retching in her stomach.
"She's only ten, Richard. You can't seriously be thinking marriage already?" Caroline asked, her voice quiet and subservient. She knew that it was best not to say anything, but she had her own fears of seeing her daughters experience the same lack of choice she had had as a young girl. Her words, however did not bring her solace. They had the undesired effect of triggering the outburst the three had feared all night.
"Damn it, Caroline!" Richard yelled, slamming his fists down on the table so that it rattled the china, "I'd marry her off tomorrow if I could! What good can come of her other than that! If you had been a decent wife and given me some boys we wouldn't have this problem now would we?! This is my business! You had best learn to hold your tongue! Now get out of my sight all of you!"
The three of them left their desert untouched and hurried out of the dining room as quickly as possible like mice fleeing from a stalking cat. The two girls climbed the stairs with Caroline behind them following more sedately and hastened to prepare for bed.
When they were both washed and changed and lying in their beds, Cynthia began to cry softly, her little whimpers barely audible but disheartening all the same.
"Don't cry," Said Caroline tucking them both into bed, "Daddy's not angry with you, he just has a lot on his mind and it makes him grumpy, that's all." She had told Cynthia, and even Mary Alice when she was younger, this lie so often that her voice fell flat and she doubted that it offered either of them any comfort at all. It certainly didn't make her feel any better.
The truth was, at least the way Mary Alice saw it, that her father was a barbarian and that none of them could ever possibly please him simply because they were female. So why bother? Her approach was much easier. She never tried to gain his favor, instead she only tried to stay out of his way and waited till the day when she would be grown and free of his tyranny.
When they were both sufficiently tucked in, their mother having kissed them both and left them alone, Mary Alice crept quietly out of bed, shushing Cynthia as she did.
"Where are you going?" Cynthia whispered, her voice seemed much louder than it was in the still, dark room.
"I'm going out," Mary Alice replied curtly, "And you better keep quiet if you know what's good for you. I'll be back before you even know it. Just go to sleep."
"Mary Alice, you'll be in trouble! We'll both be in trouble!" She spoke no louder than before but her voice was filled with such fear and desperation that Mary Alice couldn't bear it and came over to her bed to forcefully shush her, pressing a hand down hard over her mouth.
"You needn't worry sissy. You'll be in no trouble at all if you listen and do as I say. Close your eyes and when you wake in the morning I shall be in my bed as if I had never left it."
Cynthia tried to fight the tight grip of her hand at first but soon quieted and did as she was told. Her large eyes which glinted in the moonlight from the open curtain fluttered a few times then slowly and deliberately closed.
"That's a good girl," Mary Alice whispered as she calmly removed her hand.
She took one last look at her sister, to be sure that she was settled, and made her way to the window. She fussed with the latch for a moment, as it tended to stick, then slid it open as quickly and quietly as possible. As is usually the case when one is trying to be stealthy the windows assent sounded quite raucous to Mary Alice and she grew slightly nervous, her pulse thumping in her ears. When the window opening was wide enough for her to slip through, she gingerly climbed out and onto a large oak branch that lately had threatened to grow right into their bedroom.
She smiled to herself as her feet touched down on the soft earth. Tonight would be magical, as was every night she spent with Tanna. Before she knew it she was flying through the cotton, not even aware of the stitch in her side, as she raced toward her friend and all the secret wonders they would share.