Rose Hill, 1769
On the Rose Hill farm, there wasn't one slave who hadn't fallen in love with Quinnie Fabray. The little girl was nothing but generous and kind to all of them, and her company had become the highlight of their days. And it was reciprocated - Quinnie waited all day until her brother's studies were done, so he could take her to the kitchen house.
Quinnie worshiped her brother. He was her savior, taking her from the arms of her harsh birth mother and bringing her to the arms of the so sweet Mama Minda.
"Oh, look who's here!" Mama Minda exclaimed. All the children playing on the backyard came into the kitchen at once. Quinnie smiled shyly and tugged her brother's coat. "Come give Mama Minda a hug, Quinnie!"
The woman didn't have to ask twice. Quinnie went to her, with blond curls escaping out of her bonnet and bouncing as she skipped her way through the kitchen. Chubby arms wrapped around the black woman's neck, and Quinnie placed a wet kiss on her cheek.
"The kids were all anxious to play with you, Miss Quinnie!" Said the woman with a smile, pulling George by the hand for a hug. Quinnie watched as her brother, who always looked so big in her eyes, melt in the woman's arm to become just a little boy - just like her.
"Are they all yours, Mama Minda?" Quinnie asked, watching the other children chatting by the door.
"Oh, no, no, dear!" Mama Minda shook her head with a chuckle. "I take care of the kids of other woman while they work. They're not all my kids, but they are all in my heart, just as if they were. And you know what?" She asked, grabbing Quinnie's attention.
"What, Mama Minda?" She asked with hazel eyes focused on the woman's face.
"You and George are right there in my heart too!" Mama Minda explained, placing a hand on her chest. Quinnie's smile grew further, and she walked to the corner to check on the small baby who recently started coming up to the kitchen house during the days.
"Quinnie, I'm gonna go play with the kids outside! Want to come?" George asked, already being pulled out the door by the small children.
"Oh no, George, you can go. I'm gonna stay here with the baby for a while." She smiled, and her brother nodded before leaving. "Does he have a name yet, Mama Minda?" Quinnie asked.
"He does not! His mother isn't having any ideas lately…" Mama Minda said with a sad smile. Quinnie was perceptive enough to know something was wrong, but she was still too young to know what it was. "Would you like to name him yourself?"
"Me?" Quinnie asked perplexed. Although she felt like a big girl now that she had turned 6, she wasn't sure if she was old enough to make such a big decision. But if Mama Minda said she could, she would trust her. She thought for a while, caressing the baby's boy head before turning to the woman again. "What about Archie?"
"Archie. That's a great name, Quinnie!" Mama Minda walked towards them, and pulled a chair for Quinnie to sit. "Would you like to hold him?" She asked, and Quinn nodded with the biggest grin.
There were few things Quinn liked more than holding that small boy. She took pride when Mama Minda would congratulate her for how well she cared for him - and sometimes she was even allowed to help clean his bottom. She had many, many dolls. But she never liked playing with them as much as she liked being with Archie.
"Quinnie! Mother is asking for us!" George blurted between heavy breaths once he entered the kitchen house again. "I'll go distract her while you put the baby down, but please, hurry!" He explained, leaving as quick as he came. Quinn sighed deeply.
"Mother doesn't like when we come down here…" She explained to Mama Minda with another sigh. She never understood why her mother had to be like that. "I wish I could just stay here. It's so boring in there. I wish I could be one of your children."
"But I just told you, Quinnie! You are!" Mama Minda said, grabbing the small boy from her arms.
"Oh, you know… I wish I was one of the children who can live with you, Mama. I wish you were my real mother." Quinn said sadly.
"Oh, Quinnie. You are the one to choose those who is your family. If you want, I'm your family. It doesn't matter if you're up at the big house or down here at the kitchen house. I'll always be your Mama. And Archie will always be your Archie! And we love you all the way from down the quarters to up the hill!"
"Thank you so much, Mama! You are such a blessing in my life!" Quinn said, tackling the woman in a tight hug before running back to her house.
"Quinnie! Quinnie!" George shook her arm. "Wake up!"
Quinnie rubbed her eyes and turned to her side to see her brother standing by her bed. His eyes were bulged out and he bit his lips, waiting for her to pay attention to him.
"What is it, George?" She asked in a husky voice. It was only dawn. She wasn't used to waking up so early - and she hated it.
"Something happened down the quarters. Something happened. I called Mama Minda to bring me some milk but she didn't answer, so I went to the kitchen house and no one's there!" He explained, fidgeting his hands. "I think we should talk to father. Will you come with me?"
Quinnie was already up on her feet. She knew that the same way her brother could work his magic with their mother, she was the one when they needed to go to their father. She wasn't exactly comfortable entering their parent's room - they knew they weren't allowed to do so unless they were asked to. But this was an emergency.
"Father?" Quinnie whispered. Her father opened his eyes immediately, startling Quinnie, who took a step back.
"What is it, princess?" He asked with a voice filled with concern.
"Something is happening down the quarters, father. And there's no one in the kitchen house either." She said softly, as her mother lifted the head to hear why her sleep had been interrupted.
"Is that true, George?" Her mother asked. She never believed Quinnie.
"Mr. Fabray!" The door was slammed open before George could answer. "There's an uprising! We're losing control, you need to come right now!" Shouted Malcolm, the overseer. Quinnie hid behind the bed. She didn't like him.
"God dammit!" Her father growled, getting up and grabbing a long rifle gun on his way to the door. "You three stay in here. Do not come out until I'm back, hear me?"
"Yes, father." Quinn agreed lowly, closing her eyes when she felt George's arms wrapping her up in a hug.
"You better stay quiet," said her mother, looking directly at Quinn, as usual. "I don't wanna be awaken again."
Quinnie heard her stomach growling, but ignored it and tried to make time pass faster by playing quietly with her brother.
After a while, her mother started pacing back and forward through the room. It was making Quinn's stomach sick, but she didn't dare to say a word. She knew her mother was distressed, and she knew what could happen if she said something.
It was way past dinner time when her father came back.
"So?" Judy asked, as Russell walked inside taking off his hat and wiping droplets of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He walked past her, and sat between his two children.
"Everything is under control. Everything is gonna be fine." He said with small nods. Quinnie didn't realize she was nodding too. "But there was a fatality…"
"A what?" Quinnie asked, raising one eyebrow. Her father patted his lap, and Quinnie promptly abode, moving to sit there. He held George's hand, and closed his eyes. Quinnie was getting nervous and anxious, but she didn't know why.
"Mama Minda is dead." Russell said, and opened his eyes when he heard a giggle from Judy. He stared angrily at her, but she rolled her eyes and sat on the bed.
"What? How could that happen?" George asked. Quinnie wanted to make the same question, but words wouldn't come to her mouth as her eyes flooded with tears.
"I would rather spare you the details." Russell sighed. "I'm sorry, children."
"Oh, please!" Judy huffed when a small sob escaped Quinn's mouth. "There's no need to be so dramatic, I bet we can buy a new slave who will cook much better than she ever did."
Quinn couldn't believe her mother's words. She couldn't believe they would ever find another slave that loved her as much as Mama Minda did. Quinn felt the tug in her heart turn into something else. As if her blood started boiling inside of her.
"Do you know who did it, father?" She asked. "Do you? Because I want them dead."
Quinnie wasn't sure who gasped louder at her words. George looked shocked, and her mother looked at her in disbelief. But her father didn't show any reaction. Maybe he agreed with her. She knew he had always been thankful for Mama Minda had taken care of her.
"I guess we can do that." He nodded. Judy gasped once more, and Quinn smiled. Her father never disappointed her. He backed up all of her decisions. He conceded all of her wishes.
"You can't be serious, Russell!" Judy stood up. "I know you spoil that girl rotten, but that's too much, even for you. We can't afford to just kill slaves to satisfy her wishes. Slaves cost money!"
Quinn grabbed her father's arm tighter. She exchanged a glance with George, and knew he was also awry by the discussion. Her parents discussions never ended well, and her mother tended to take it off on her.
"It's not a bad idea, Judy. This will show them that uprisings will not go unpunished. It shows them their place." He argued, but she didn't seem pleased. Russell took Quinn off his lap and set her on the floor. "Weren't you the one always saying that Quinnie doesn't get how slavery works? She seems to understand it now. She's right. Whoever did this needs to be killed."
"For God's sake! Her name is Quinn!" Judy yelled, and Russell just shook his head and walked to the door. "You are ruining your daughter, Russell. You'll be the one held accountable for the consequences of this." Her face was bright red, and Quinnie hid under George's arms. He kissed the top of her head, and even that wasn't enough to convince her everything would be okay.
"No one but me kills my slaves, Judy."
"Bring me some milk, I'll find a way of giving it to him!" Quinn asked a little slave girl, as she rocked Archie on a chair. The baby looked up at her and cooed, getting a giggle out of her. She leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his forehead, just as her father entered the kitchen.
"Quinnie?" He asked, with furrowed eyebrows. "Whose baby is that?"
"He's mine, father!" She answered cheerfully, stroking the baby's curly hair.
"Quinnie, that baby can't be yours. Tell me where you got it!" He demanded, with a tone of voice Quinnie wasn't used to listening from his mouth. She frowned. The baby was hers!
"He used to be Mama Minda's, but you know, she died," she whispered the last word, so the baby wouldn't hear it. "I went down the quarters and got him back. He's mine now. I even named him!" She said with a big grin, that faded away when she realized her father wasn't as excited as she was. "He's name is Archie, and I love him dearly. I'm gonna protect him from all those terrible slaves that killed Mama Minda."
"Quinnie…" Her father sighed, pulling a chair and sitting by her side. "Give that baby to her," he said, pointing his head to the oldest slave among the children. "And come to the front yard. We're gonna whip the man that killed Minda, and I would like for you to count the whips. Would you do that?"
"Yes, father!" Her smile grew, and her eyes shined. They would get what they deserved for taking away from her the mother she had chosen for herself. "I would love to."
"Father!" Quinnie shouted, entering the drawing room where her parents sat.
"Do not yell, Quinn. I've told you so." Judy hissed, not taking her eyes away from her book. Quinn didn't know why her mother could yell, her father could yell, and she couldn't. But she had more important matters to discuss than that.
"There's no one in the kitchen house!" She cried out, ignoring her mother and moving closer to her father.
"I can't count how many times I said you shouldn't go there." Judy complained again, and Quinn huffed.
"I was hungry, I wanted to be fed, mother!" She lied. She would do anything to stop her mother, and get some answer from her father. "Where is everyone?"
"They were sold, Quinn." She flinched when her father didn't call her Quinnie. He swallowed hard.
"What do you mean… sold?" Quinn sat on her knees, tilting her head to the side.
"See? I told you, she doesn't get how it works." Judy replied with a smug smile.
"We don't have Minda to take care of all those children anymore. We sold them and bought adult slaves, who can actually work." He answered. Quinn could see his voice wasn't certain. She knew for a fact this hadn't been his idea.
"But sold?" She whined. She couldn't believe it.
"Yes, Quinnie. They're slaves. That's what they're for. To work, to make us money." He said in sigh. If he thought that he would end the conversation just by calling her Quinnie again, he couldn't be more wrong.
"But father, even Archie?" She cried. "You know I love Archie, father! I love that baby!"
"I told you, Russell. I knew this wouldn't work. See?" Judy chuckled, proud to be right. "She thinks they're human beings!"
"Dear…" He took his hand, ignoring his wife. "You can't love a slave. They're not able to love. That baby couldn't be yours, because he's not like us. One day you'll have a baby of your own to love forever. And then you'll understand the difference."
But Quinn swore she would never love a baby as much as she loved Archie.
"But who am I gonna play with?" Quinn asked, voicing the worries in her head.
"Things will change in this house, Quinn. Starting today. As of tomorrow, your brother will be leaving to attend a boarding school in England. And you, you'll make real friends. White friends." Her mother said, getting up and walking closer to her. Each step closer, and each word that left her mouth, felt like a pinch on Quinn's heart. She wasn't sure she could keep breathing much longer. "I don't wanna see you chatting with slaves anymore. You're to talk to them only to demand what you need. A tutor will start coming daily to give you your lessons. It's time you learn about this world, if you're gonna stay in it."
"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much?" She asked her mother, quickly wiping a stray tear that left her eye but standing up fiercely.
"This is not a punishment, dear." Her father answered, scooping her up in his arms. "George wants to be a doctor. Which leaves this whole place to you. You'll be the one running it soon enough. We need you to know how this works. We need you to have a hand with slaves."
"But… What if I don't want to?" Quinnie asked, hiding her face in the crook of her father's neck.
"You'll want it. I know you will. You're my little girl, and I know you won't disappoint me."
"Can I at least say goodbye to George?" She managed to ask before sobs wrecked out of her body.
"Of course, dear. Let's go." Russell soothed her, running his hand through her back.
Quinn was only six, but she knew, then and there, that her life would never be the same.
Basseterre, 1769
Rachel had to wear her best dress that day. She didn't understand what the occasion was, but she was told they were having visits on the house and she needed to look presentable. As usual, Rachel, her mother, and the other servants waited by the door until the carriage bringing the guests arrived.
Madam Margaret walked briskly towards the carriage, and opened the biggest smile when the door opened. Rachel had never seen her this excited about anything. She assumed the guests were really important this time.
"My son! It's time you paid your old mother a visit!" She exclaimed, wrapping Russell in a hug.
"Mother, it hasn't been such a long time! You haven't aged a day!" He argued, taking off his hat.
"Oh, I've raised you well!" Madam Margaret said, flustered. Rachel frowned in confusion, looking up to her mother. "And there's my sweet granddaughter! Quinnie, my dear! You look just like royalty!"
"Hello, grandmother." Quinn bobbed a curtsy, and Madam Margaret placed both hands on top of her heart.
"Isn't she lovely?" Madam Margaret asked, grabbing her son's hand. "And where's my dear George?" She asked with furrowed eyebrows.
"I'm afraid he couldn't come, mother. We have sent him to study in England!" Russell answered proudly.
"Oh, Lord! My grandson is in the land of the queen! I always knew he was made for greatness!" Her smiled beamed. "Come inside, you need to tell me everything, Russell!" She pulled him by one hand and her granddaughter by the other.
Rachel watched as a blonde woman was left behind and not addressed by Madam Margaret. The woman huffed and hushed her way inside. Rachel's mother chuckled before relaxing once everyone was inside the house. Rachel didn't understand what was so funny. She also didn't understand why they had to be there, waiting outside, when no one ever noticed them anyway.
But more than anything, she was enchanted by the carriage. Four golden horses pulled it, and they were the tallest horses Rachel had ever seen. She walked towards them, and one of them trusted its head in her direction. She took it as encouragement, and walked closer. The horse neighed, and brushed his nose against her lifted hand.
Rachel giggled and pat the horse until she was slapped by big heavy hand. She winced and squealed in startle, bringing her hand back as tears flooded her eyes. She had never been slapped. She had never seen the man who did so.
"Don't disturb the horses." He said sharply, pulling one of them by their straps. "Move on." He commanded, shoving Rachel out of the way.
Rachel was welcomed in her mother's arms but sobbed harder when instead of soothing her, her mother preached her about how she was supposed to know better.
"Oh my Dear, I can't believe you are six already! We're gonna celebrate your belated birthday today!" Madam Margaret said, placing several boxes around her granddaughter. Rachel had never seen one child getting so many gifts. For a second, she wished she was that girl. But then she remembered she wouldn't have her mother and father, and shook the thoughts away.
"Mother, you will spoil her more than I already do!" Russell said playfully, leaning back on the chair and lighting up a corncob pipe, just like Madam Margaret's. Rachel absolutely hated that smell.
"Well, I have to! She's the only little girl in our family! Especially since your sister decided to move to America, that fool!" Madam Margaret explained herself. Judy coughed hard, but again, no one seemed to notice. Rachel wondered if maybe the woman was also a slave. She didn't dress like one, but she certainly was ignored like one. "Henrietta!" Madam Margaret called out.
"Yes, madam?" Etta was promptly by the door, ready to answer as always.
"Will you make my granddaughter a cake for her birthday?" She said. "Make it with extra frosting. I know she likes it." Madam Margaret pinched Quinn's cheek, who smiled but at the same time let out a small groan. Rachel chuckled, and was happy to see no one realized it.
"Yes, madam!" Etta bowed her head, pulling Rachel's hand towards the kitchen with her. "Come, sweetie."
Rachel sat on the table - something she was never allowed to do - while her mother mixed the ingredients for the cake. She licked her lips, holding her hands together to prevent her fingers from dipping in the batter to taste it.
"You wanna know a secret?" Her mother asked. Rachel nodded vigorously. She loved secrets. "You are six years old!" Her mother whispered.
"Me?" Rachel asked confused. "No mother, I'm five! You said so yourself!"
"I know dear, but I also know you were born just a few days after Miss Quinn. If she's six, you certainly have turned six too!" Her mother said happily. "Happy birthday, sweetie!"
"Where are my presents?" Rachel's eyes and smile grew. She leaned forward on the table. She didn't know how to deal with anxiety - she rarely had something to be anxious about.
"Dear, you don't get any gifts. Those are for rich people, remember? Like on Christmas." Her mother answered with the saddest smile. Rachel's whole body scrunched down.
"What about a cake?" She asked hopeful.
"Rachel, baby… We're slaves." Her mother said. As if she didn't know that already. She just didn't understand why it had to be that way. "But you know what? You have something they don't. You have a mother that loves you to death. A love pure and truthful. That's the best gift you can ever give to anyone."
Rachel smiled softly. It wasn't a doll, or any kind of toys. But it did make her happy.
Rachel woke up with the door from their room being slammed open. She and her mother shared a mattress, so there was no way she wouldn't have woken up when her mother flinched in startle. The other servants certainly woke up as well, but Rachel still didn't know what had happened.
"Which one of you ungrateful cows ate my grandaughter's birthday cake?" Madam Margaret asked.
One glance was enough for Etta to know who had done it. Rachel's eyes bulged out and she licked her lip, afraid any remains would give her away. She didn't meant to, she really didn't. But she couldn't sleep. She was hungry. And the cake smelled so good. And maybe if she took just a small slice no one would notice. But after the first slice, it wasn't easy to stop herself.
"It was me, madam." Etta spoke out. Rachel gasped, but her mother grasped her hand tighter and she knew she should stay quiet.
From that moment on, Rachel couldn't quite register what was happening. She felt like things moved in a blur. Madam Margaret caught her mother by the hair, and Rachel cried out. Another servant held Rachel back. Rachel heard her madam telling all the servants to come down and to bring the overseer. She didn't know what it meant, but by the amount of prays leaving the other servant's mouths she assumed it wasn't good.
She felt her heart getting tight in her chest when her mother was ordered to strip down in front of everyone, in the middle of the sidewalk. Rachel knew they weren't suppose to let other people see their parts. Her mother had told her to be careful when changing clothes for no one to see. She didn't get why her mother was doing that now. She didn't get why anyone else seemed as surprised as she was. The other servant held Rachel tighter to her side as her mother laid into the ground.
"Grandmother, I can count if you'd like." Said the small, blonde girl.
"Oh my, is that really?" Madam Margaret asked. Her voice changed so abruptly that it confused Rachel further. Suddenly, it was so much softer and gentle. Rachel almost thought everything would be okay.
"Yes, and I can do so in French!" Quinn said proudly, with her hands behind her back. Her father wrapped an arm around her shoulder and smiled.
"Oh, then please, do so!" Madam Margaret asked.
"Rachel, baby!" Her mother caught her attention. "Close your eyes, dear. Close them now!"
Rachel obeyed. Un, Rachel heard a sharp noise. Deux, and again. Trois, and again. Quatre, she fought the urge to open her eyes and see what was happening. Cinq, she grabbed the servant's hand tighter. Six, she heard the noise of something dripping on the floor. Sept, she heard Russell's giggles. Huit, she heard a groan. Neuf, she realized who had groaned. Dix, she didn't have to open her eyes to know what was happening.
Rachel didn't have to be a doctor to know her mother's wounds weren't healing properly. She was only six, but even she could realize the whole room smelled rotten. She had spent the morning picking small maggots out of her mother's back, and trying to convince herself that it didn't mean anything. That everything would be fine.
She watched as her father asked and begged Madam Margaret to let him pay for a doctor to see Etta. She watched as Madam Margaret denied him again and again. She watched the terror in his face. She heard her madam saying Etta deserved it and had to learn her lesson. She heard her father saying she would die if nothing was done.
Rachel wished she had stepped forward. She wished she had the courage her mother always believed she did. It wasn't fair that her mother had taken her place, when she had been the one stealing. She should be the one suffering. She should be the one to die.
Night came, and Rachel knew for sure things were getting worse. Their thin mattress was drenched in sweat. Her mother shook and whimpered. Rachel had no idea what to do. If only she could go back in time and fix things up.
"Mother, what should I do?" She asked, holding tightly onto the woman's hand. She would do anything. She couldn't lose the only thing she had in life.
"Lay down with me, dear." Her mother whispered. "There's nothing else to be done." Rachel did so, trying to fight the tears that came into her eyes. Her mother wrapped her thin arms around Rachel, and kissed her forehead with her dry chapped lips.
"Mother, please, don't leave me." Rachel begged, bawling quietly. "Please, mother. I don't know what to do. I promise I will never steal again!"
"Rachel, don't worry. I'm gonna be free, dear. Everything is gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." She released a shaky breath. Rachel found it hard to believe. "Your father will buy you. You'll be free too. I know you will. You weren't born for slavery, you were born for greater things, Rachel. And we'll meet again one day."
Rachel slept in her mother's arms.
She woke up the next morning.
Her mother didn't.
She watched as two men took her mother down, and buried her to the ground. She watched her father cry. She watched her father offering money to Madam Margaret, to buy Rachel's freedom. She watched Madam Margaret denying and saying she would need a new servant now that Etta had died. She watched as her father, her last hope, left.
Rachel was fairly sure she had run out of tears. Her small body felt tired, have shaken so hard with sobs.
She didn't meant it. She didn't realize it. It was an instinct. Before she knew, she had jammed her thumb into her mouth.
"I told you what I would do if I ever saw you sucking on that thumb again," said Madam Margaret.
Rachel wanted to close her eyes, but her body wouldn't obey her. With one clear cut, the tip of her thumb rolled down the kitchen table.
And everything went black.
When Rachel woke up again, she had no idea where she was. She only hoped everything had been just a dream, but a quick glance on her hand covered in bright red rags told her otherwise. She got up but before she could leave the room, a man came inside. She recognized him. The gardener.
"You're awake, thank the Lord!" He sighed. "Here, I brought some water."
Rachel didn't realize how thirsty she was until the water hit her mouth. The gardener had always been kind to her. When she was allowed to go outside, he would show her the flowers and tell her its names. Sometimes he would even let her take one to her room. She was glad she found someone to help her.
"I think we better change those rags. Don't look." He said, sitting on bed next to her. She wasn't sure if it was okay for him to be so close. But she was bothered by the blood in her hand and changing the rags sounded like a good idea.
She flinched when he pulled the last strip, feeling tiny pieces of yard stuck in the wound. She didn't want to look. She didn't think she would ever be able to look. But when he wrapped it up again and the rags remained white, she breathed out in relief. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore.
"You've had a rough day, kiddo." He said, scooting closer. "Lay down for a minute. I'll help you out. I'll make you happy again."
Rachel felt his wet lips in her cheek, and his hand snaking down her body. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She tried to feel happy, but her eyes still had tears. She tried to feel happy.
But she didn't.
Rachel was only six, but she knew, then and there, that her life would never be the same.