A/N: alright so i got a great idea for a fan-fiction and here it is...i'm setting it around the mid 1800's-ish lol i might include the Civil War idk yet? we'll see...it's a fiction so i can pretty much have flying pink ponies if i want too lol SAMCEDES LOVE! i don't think i'm including all of the characters from GLEE, only when I see fit...so so far Sam, Mercedes, Quinn and most likely Puckerman...i changed the name of Mercedes mom to Delilah...and whatever else i felt like needing changing i changed it lol
btw...i do say "NIGGER" in this story...it was done during the time period...I'm Black American and I'm comfortable reading it, but my apologies if it offends anyone...
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS SAM EVANS OR MERCEDES JONES...but the story is mine...
"Are you sure she's the one you want?" A gruff and stubbly man asks Mr. Evans before jerking her arm towards him. "You know I have to sell the baby too...it's not big enough to make it on it's own."
"You drive a hard bargain Matthew" Mr. Evans says. "What is it?"
"A girl...who I'm sure will grow to work just as strong as her ma."
Mr. Evans heaves a sigh surrendering. "What can I say, I need the milk...Alright, you've got a deal."
"That's what I like to hear" Matthew gives Mr. Evans a greedy smile. "Tate, you bring that nigger over to Mr. Evans to look at ...give him a closer look"
"Yes Pa!"
Tate, a tall and lanky teenage boy brings a dark and thick woman to Mr. Evans. She's cradling a very young baby girl wrapped in scraps of cloth. The woman, in normal circumstances would probably be beautiful, except that she's got a swollen shut eye and large gash on her cheek.
"Isn't she fiesty?" Matthew smiles appraisingly. "But that's just how I like'm...the ones who are already broken don't work as...aggressively."
The woman holds her baby even closer as Mr. Evans looks at her. Her face is a little round, and she's got some meat on her bones, but not in a way to make her seem fat. Her clothes are small and torn, and her blouse has leaked milk stains from her breast.
"This is your new master, ya hear?" Matthew introduces. "Her name is Delilah."
Delilah doesn't look at Mr. Evans or Matthew but continues to stare at the baby girl in her arms. Mr. Evans shifts his stance debating if this was a good deal or not, but accepts guiding her to his carriage. Delilah clutches to her baby for dear life in fear of separation as she gets into the cart. Mr. Evans removes his hat, wipes his brow and climbs in as well. The Evans Plantation is a few miles from town so the ride there is quiet for the most part...that is until Mr. Evans can no longer take the immense silence.
"Uh...do you speak?"
Delilah glares at him not answering. Mr. Evans twists his mouth glancing at her papers.
"Well, I'm assuming you do, considering you lived in France for some time."
"My last Master was French" she answers cold.
"So, you're some what educated?"
"Je parle aussi francais, espèce de bâtard" she spits the sentence.
"She just called me a bastard" Mr. Evans thinks with a smile. "Is your french what got you that eye?"
"I a'int ever met a white man who liked a smart nigger" she grumbles low.
Mr. Evans startles Delilah and himself by laughing. The things she says are borderline suicidal, and instead of becoming upset Mr. Evans finds himself becoming intrigued.
"Your baby...how old is it" Mr. Evans asks jerking the reigns to get the horses to move a little slower. He's trying to slow down the time it takes to get back to the plantation...more time to talk to this woman.
"Three months."
"And your milk, it's healthy?" Mr. Evans unsure of how to ask. "I need to know for my son...he's a few months older than your girl."
"Where's his ma?" Delilah answers like she's not going to share...like she has a choice.
"Died last month...my boy needs nursin'."
Delilah switches her baby girl to another shoulder. "What that got to do with me?"
"Don't play dumb, your practically spilling out your so full" Mr. Evans groans pointing out the obvious. "It can't be comfortable-"
"Unlike this?" She says cutting him off unafraid of the consequences.
"Well you could be walking" Mr. Evans smiles. "That's still an option" he says stopping the carriage.
Delilah is glaring at Mr. Evans with the eye that's not swollen, before looking onward. Mr. Evans nods taking this as an agreement, urging the horses further.
"So...I nurse your son...do I nurse you as well?"
"Let's see how m'boy likes ya first...fair warnin' he's bitten just about everybody else...although I won't say you don't deserve it" Mr. Evans groans snapping the reigns causing the horses to trot.
The Evans Plantation is one of the finest in South Carolina. Acres and acres of lush green tobacco fields as far as the eye can see; and a constant drone of voices can be heard. The sight is magnificent, especially the grandeur of the plantation house. It's large with giant pillars in the front, with two floors of french style windows paneling the front. The sight is breathtaking and Delilah clutches the baby closer feeling even more small. The carriage stops in front of the house and Mr. Evans helps Delilah get down before having her follow him into the house. The piercing cries and wails of the baby Evans can be heard throughout the entire house. The entire staff working in the house are busily trying to continue on with their tasks, but the noise is deafening.
"Follow me" Mr. Evans says walking up the stairs. Delilah follows reluctantly; the cries are even louder and they don't stop when Mr. Evans and Delilah enter the baby's nursery.
"Mr. Evans?" Delilah shouts so she can be heard. He turns to her waiting for her to continue. "I'm gonna need your promise, that no matter what, my baby girl and I will stay together."
He looks at her debating her requests but the outcries of his son outweigh all other demands.
"I promise! Just stop him from crying!"
Delilah gives him a nod before setting her sleeping baby in his arms, picking up the crying babe. She turns her back unbuttoning her shirt and guides the baby to her breast. After some adjustment, the crying dies down into a whimper, and then into silence.
"He sucks quite hard" Delilah comments allowing the baby to drink. "How long you been starvin' him?"
Mr. Evans shrugs looking at the sleeping baby in his arms thinking...Why couldn't I have the quiet one?
"What's his name?" Delilah asks.
"Samuel" Mr. Evans answers. "What about your girl?"
"Mercedes."
Few Years Later...
"Del?" An adorable blonde haired, fair skinned boy asks. "Why do I call you Del!"
"Because Delilah is too long for a four year old to say" she answers back lovingly.
"Then why do I call Mercy, Mercy?"
"Because I don't like my name" Mercedes pouts folding her arms.
"I like your name" Sam says blushing slightly.
"I hate it...no one else has that name!" Mercedes whines cutely.
"I named you Mercedes because I thought it was pretty...you can't go changing now" Delilah says final. "Now Master Sam, you have your lessons to do and I need Mercy's help with the dishes."
"Yes ma'm" Mercedes answers obediently. "Bye Master Sam."
"Bye" Sam waves watching Mercedes leave the room with her mom.
Delilah and Mercedes walk into the kitchen with the rest of the help.
"Now Mercedes, I need you to be real careful with those plates...so dry them carefully, understood?"
"Yes ma'm" Mercedes replies quietly. "Mama?"
"Hm?"
"Yesterday, when we were playing..."
"Uh-huh"
"Sammy asked him why I have to call him Master Sam."
"And?"
"Well...why do I have too?"
Everyone in the kitchen stops working to hear Delilah's explanation. Delilah takes in a deep breath, frowning trying to find the answer.
"We work for the Evans family...therefore we call have to put a handle on their name...we call Master Evans, Master Evans and we call Master Sam, Master Sam...it shows respect?"
"Well then mama, how come when I play with Sam I can just call him Sam?"
"Now that you're old enough to ask questions, you can't call him that anymore. You have to call him Master Sam."
Mercedes frown's talking all this in. "So mama, does that mean Sammy has to call me Master Mercy?"
The entire kitchen erupts in laughter. "No baby, he just calls you Mercy."
"Oh" Mercedes says. "But why?"
Another woman in the kitchen groans before hitting Mercedes lightly with a dish towel. "That's just how things are! Get down from there are start snapping those peas."
Later that night, Delilah is cuddled close to the bare chested Mr. Evans in his master suit. Her head rests softly in the crook of his arm as she plays with his hand. They lie in bliss, thinking over the night they've just shared...Mr. Evans contemplates how his life couldn't be any more happier.
"What are you thinking?" She asks softly.
"How happy I am" he answers hugging her close. "Do you regret the life you have?"
"It's what I was given" Delilah replies turning to face her lover. "I'm thankful."
"So, why do you seem so-"
"Miserables?" She gives a weak laugh. "I was just thinking about Mercedes."
Mr. Evans kisses Delilah's shoulder. "Everything alright?"
"Yes, it's just..." She breaks off.
"Just what?"
She breathes heavily. "Maybe it was a mistake growing your son with her."
"Why?"
"Because Mercedes thinks that her and Sam are equal" Delilah pouts. "She shouldn't get those kinds of ideas...no good can come from them."
Delilah's hand touches the massive scar on her cheek; she shivers remembering exactly how she got it. The long gash is completely healed however there is emotional scarring that will never go away.
"How can you say no good can come from ideas?" He brings her closer and nuzzles her neck. "It's your ideas that I fell in love with."
"I was suicidal!" Delilah shrieks. "I thought it was better to die than to be separated from my baby. In a way, I was trying to kill myself-"
"I knew from the moment you called me a bastard, I wanted to keep you" Mr. Evans laughs remembering. "A young woman who had been through so much, who was still unafraid to be strong...your ideas is what I like about you most."
"But I never asked questions as to why things are the way they are...bottom line I knew I couldn't change them. And she's only four!"
Mr. Evans smiles even bigger. "You must teach her that these thoughts must be kept in secret...for her safety as well as ours."
Mr. Evans wasn't like the stereotypical slave owner. He treated his workers with as much dignity as the law and his plantation would allow. Families born on the plantation were never separated, or sold off to different families. Because he was wealthy, Mr. Dwight Evans was able to provide a substantial amount of food and quality housing. He treated his workers with as much kindness and respect as humanly possible, unlike the other plantation owners he knew that you get more flies with honey than vinegar. Dwight and Delilah's affair began a year or two after her arrival to Evan's Plantation; and after many shared nights together he vowed that he would never remarry...she would be considered to him, as a wife in every way except in name. It was only because of her protests that he didn't make her Head of the House, but a humble maid instead.
"How did this subject come up?" Mr. Evans asks.
Delilah sighs again. "Mercedes wanted to know why she couldn't call Master Sam by his first name."
"I see" Mr. Evans nods. "And was she satisfied when you explained?"
"No" Delilah says frustrated. "She wanted to know if people should call her Master Mercedes."
Mr. Evans laughs hard for the first time that night. "Just like her mother that girl."
"She's going to get in trouble, if she's not careful" Delilah says with her eyes starting to water.
"She's a child...of course she's going to have questions" Mr. Evans explains. "I'm not saying we should change her opinions...but we have to teach her the appropriate times to talk."
Delilah looks entirely flustered as Dwight gives her an encouraging smile. "There's no danger as of now...so stop worrying."
18 Years Later...Both Sam and Mercedes Are 22...
"C'mon Mercy"
Samuel Dwight Evans is a strapping young man with broad shoulders and a strong frame. He's wearing a dark blue button down shirt and riding pants that seem to just accentuate his attractive build. His sandy sun-kissed blonde hair swishes in front of his face, framing his emerald green eyes. His complexion is fair but his cheeks are rosy, and he's got an oversized mouth that he somehow manages to turn into a lopsided grin.
"I want to go in the outer fields."
"Nothing is stopping you Master Samuel" Mercedes smirks continuing to sweep the kitchen.
"It's not the same" Sam whines. "I want you to come with me."
"I've got so much work to do, Master Samuel."
"That's all?" Sam jokes before laying on his thick southern accent. "Well as future heir to the Evans' Plantation...I hear-by relieve you of all your duties today."
"Then I would just have to do it tomorrow" Mercedes says bending low to pick up the dustpan. "If everyone who worked here worked like you this plantation would get nothing done."
Mercedes eyes pop open wide in fear that she might've said something wrong...scratch that she knows she's said something wrong. In fact, her statement could easily earn her a good fashioned whipping...especially if someone else had heard her.
She ducks her head low and bows. "I'm so sorry Master Samuel...I swear I meant no disrespect!" She says quickly and fearful.
He looks at her long and hard before speaking. "I wish you didn't have to call me that."
Mercedes lets go of the breath she had been holding and continues with her work.
"Why can't it be like when we were kids?" Sam asks leaning up against a doorframe. "I was Sammy and you were Mercy. It was so simple then...no rules."
"You still have no rules Master Samuel" Mercedes chuckles but Sam gives her a confused look. "Sorry again Master Samuel."
He waves his hand indicating that she's missing the point he's trying to make. "No one's trying to force your hand Merce."
"What do you mean?" Mercedes asks pretending not to have a clue. He gives her another look and she drops her head and smiles.
There's no need to play dumb...everyone in town knows how important the marriage of Sam Evans is. It could mean boosting the town into another agricultural revolution, or keeping everything the way it is now. Quinn Fabray of the Fabray Plantation is the prime suitor; her father owns the next largest plantation in all of South Carolina...the first being the Evans. Everyone is expecting Sam and Quinn to be married; it would serve as an advantageous marriage for everyone involved.
"Can you honestly see me marrying Quinn?" Sam asks seriously.
Mercedes sighs again. "I don't think that's my place to say."
"C'mon Merce, you know me better than anyone" Sam states. "Can you see me marrying her?"
"Why not?" Mercedes asks with a laugh. "She's beautiful...everyone expects you two to be married-"
"Even you?" Sam asks cutting her off. Mercedes can't answer honestly; she can't bring herself to admit her feelings...worst part is, neither can Sam. "What if I don't want to do what everyone expects?"
"Looks like we finally have something in common Master Samuel" Mercedes says getting the filled laundry basket from a corner of the kitchen. "We both don't have a choice...enjoy your ride Master Samuel."
A/N: so what do you guys think? let me know and thanks for reading :)