Rose Hill, 1778

"So…?" Lou Lee asked to grab Rachel's attention, leaving a broom by the door and sitting across the table where Rachel peeled potatoes.

"Good morning to you too, Lou." Rachel chuckled, not lifting her eyes from work. Quinn would wake up soon, and she knew Abbie needed the help before she left. She couldn't let her attention stray.

"Yeah, yeah. Good morning." Lou Lee rolled her eyes, grabbing a knife on the counter and starting to peel a potato of her own. Rachel smiled and muttered a thank you, but Lou Lee dismissed her again. "Tell me everything!"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, sucking in her bottom lip. She knew well what Lou Lee meant, but she wanted to buy herself time. She knew Lou Lee would be disappointed with her answers.

"Oh, you know it. Don't try to fool me!" Lou Lee threw a piece of potato peel on Rachel, who squealed and dodged it - but never met her eyes as her cheeks blushed. "Tell me how was it with Jackson!"

"It was… okay, I guess?" Rachel raised an eyebrow and shrug lightly. She really didn't want to talk about it. Specially with Lou Lee, who had such high expectations about the matter. "The party was very fun, though. I ate enough to survive the whole winter to come!"

"Rachel, please," Lou Lee groaned. "Tell me the details, the important stuff. Is he a good dancer? Did you like talking to him? Did you even like him at all? Did you kiss?"

Rachel had managed to laugh at the several questions dropped by Lou Lee - she was still to meet someone as curious as that one, but she couldn't help blushing further at the latter.

"I don't know if I like him, Lou," she argued. "I've just talked with him once. It's too early to tell."

It was true, after all. Rachel hadn't despised him, that was for sure. He had been kind and friendly, although she wasn't pleased with how bold he was. It had taken her a fair share of time to convince herself to just give him a chance and dance with him without any worries - because maybe he was different than all the other men she met. She couldn't be more let down when she found out otherwise.

"Did you kiss?" Lou Lee insisted, and Rachel sighed deeply with a nod. "How was it? Was it good, finally?"

Surprised didn't cover how she felt when in the middle of the dance, his lips crashed against hers. She wasn't even sure they were allowed to do so - especially in front of their masters! But it was too late, he was already on to her and her previous experiences in the matter had showed her she was better off without fighting it.

"No," she answered bluntly. She wouldn't lie to the one true friend she had in that house. "It wasn't good."

"Oh, really?" Lou Lee groaned again, shaking her head. "How come? What was wrong with it?"

"I don't know…" Rachel chewed on the inside of her cheeks. She just wanted to peel the potatoes quietly, she didn't want to discuss this kind of thing. Quinn could wake up and give her a leave, but of course, Quinn never helped her. Not even unconsciously. "It's not that it wasn't good at all, it just didn't feel like I think it should feel. I didn't like it."

"I really don't understand you sometimes, Rachel." Lou Lee shook her head, getting up to sit in the chair by Rachel. She grabbed her hand and Rachel gave her a fake smile. She wasn't good at all at faking her feelings. "He's handsome, he has his manners, he lives right by your side… What more could you want?"

"You see, when I was little my mother always told me about how she and father fell in love." Rachel explained, breathing out the weight in her back. "She talked about how it was magical, and how she felt like floating every time his hands stroke against hers, and how she nearly fainted from happiness when they first kissed…" Rachel finally looked in Lou Lee's eyes and found them to be more understanding than she imagined. "I just never felt that."

"Well, you know what?" Lou Lee asked, with a voice clearly meant to cheer Rachel up. Rachel prayed it would work.

"What?" She asked.

"Although I really hope you find it, I can't be the one give you that, obviously." Lou Lee answered with a giggle. "But… I can give you a good kiss. So that you know what to look for and what to do when other boys come to you."

Rachel frowned in confusion for a second. Certainly she had understood something wrong, Lou Lee couldn't be meaning that she was going to- and then she did. She leaned forward and took Rachel's lips between hers and Rachel had no idea of what to do. She wondered when it would come the day she wouldn't be kissed by surprise.

Her hands instinctively flew to Lou Lee's hair, although she wasn't sure if they meant to pull her closer or push her away. She had to admit, it wasn't bad. But it was different. It felt wrong. Rachel knew she had to stop her, but she didn't know how. She reminded herself to close her shot opened eyes - but that's when she heard.

Loud clattering was suppressed with a bang, and the girls pulled apart. By the door, Quinn stood with a bag of gardening tools by her feet and her mouth fallen open. Rachel froze, and Lou Lee bowed her head. Rachel couldn't even let her mind think about how severely she would be punished for that. She had not only not been in Quinn's room when the girl woke up, but Quinn had dressed and probably eaten on her own and as if it wasn't enough - found Rachel in this situation.

"When you're done with whatever the hell you're doing, bring me this bag to the garden." Quinn scoffed and spun on her heels, leaving the room.

"I'm so sorry!" Lou Lee said with pleading eyes, but Rachel knew apologies wouldn't cover it.

Lou Lee agreed to peel the rest of the potatoes, and Rachel grabbed the bag from the floor and ran for her life.

Rachel found Quinn kneeling on the floor under the shadow of her hat and picking out weeds from a jardiniere. Quinn didn't look up at her arrival or did anything to acknowledge her. Rachel gulped - she knew the more Quinn held back, the greater her scolding would be. Quinn drew her gardening gloves from the bag, and Rachel kneeled silently by her side.

"How can I help you, miss Quinn?" She asked. Quinn looked up and Rachel felt the urge to take a step back. She couldn't read Quinn's eyes, but they were terrifying. Rachel bowed her head, and Quinn looked away. Rachel couldn't imagine how it could get worse.

"Hand me the pruner," Quinn asked. Rachel obliged, and watched Quinn being ever so gentle, picking stray twigs from the bush and cutting them out. Rachel almost thought the action felt painful to Quinn, and she asked herself how could it be that the same girl who fell bad for pruning a bush could be so eager on spanking her.

"Would you like me to go ask for Mr. Cornelius, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked. She didn't understand why was it that Quinn was doing the gardener's work. It didn't sound like the Quinn she knew. "He could help you out."

"No," Quinn sneered. At least that hadn't changed. "This is my garden. I take care of it." She explained, for Rachel's surprise. She wasn't the one to justify any actions to Rachel, but Rachel nodded nonetheless and kept watching as Quinn so carefully tendered for the bush.

She couldn't help wondering, how could the bush look so dry when the rest of the garden looked so healthy. It wouldn't make sense to say Quinn didn't take good care of it, because she clearly showed otherwise. Maybe Cornelius just had a better hand for plants. But then, Rachel couldn't understand why Quinn wouldn't give up the task, for the sake of her own garden.

Quinn's finger got caught in a thick thorn, and she flinched and yelped. Rachel gasped watching the tip of the glove slowly growing red from the blood and reached out.

"Let me help you, miss," said Rachel, wrapping her hand on her own apron to clean the blood. But Quinn flinched again, pulling her hand away from Rachel.

"I'm fine," she replied harshly. But she wasn't. Rachel could see her mind running with every breath, and she decided to take a risk. It was not like her situation could get any worse, so she should as well try to make it better.

"Look, miss Quinn, about what you saw-" she tried, but Quinn cut her short before she could even begin to explain herself. Maybe it was for the best. She really didn't know how she would explain it, after all.

"You really won't learn how to hold your tongue, will you?" Quinn asked in mockery, holding up the pruner. Rachel gasped and closed her mouth - afraid Quinn would cut out her tongue. Quinn giggled devilish and returned to her bush.

Rachel had to start thinking before speaking.

Quinn was perplexed. Baffled. Shocked. The whole morning had went by, and still she couldn't stop thinking about it. She knew slaves were allowed to have relationships among themselves, and she had heard rumors of their odd customs, but she had never even thought of such a thing. She was fairly sure Rachel was going to hell for that.

But still, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't get over the way her stomach twirled at the sight, and how she felt the need to throw up. She couldn't understand why did it look like they were enjoying themselves more than it looked like when her mother and father kissed. She couldn't believe her slave was so audacious. And she was fairly sure she would be going to hell herself if she didn't stop thinking about it.

"Quinn?" Her mother asked, coming inside her room and startling her. She was lucky no one could read her mind, but she still blushed as if her mother had caught her doing something wrong.

"Oh, mother!" She exclaimed, rising to her feet. She needed to talk to someone about it, or she would go crazy. She needed to know if she was allowed to punish Rachel for that, or if it was normal for them. "I've been meaning to talk to you!"

"What is it?" Her mother furrowed her eyebrows, sitting on the chair by her window. Quinn searched for her eyes - she had no idea why, but she feared how her mother would react. In fact, she was afraid of even letting the words slip out of her mouth.

"It's about Rachel," she spilled out in a huff.

"Oh, Quinn, for heaven's sake!" Her mother rolled her eyes. "I'm tired of this drama between you and your slave. You should have learned how to treat her by now." Quinn gulped and nodded. She didn't have the guts to go against her mother. "I'm gonna give you one last chance on keeping this girl. Go talk to Malcolm and ask him for instructions."

"Malcolm, the overseer?" Quinn asked in a small frown. She wasn't very fond of the man - he always smelled badly after spending the whole day down the quarters.

"Yes, Quinn, who else would it be?" Her mother sneered. "It's your last chance. If I hear you complaining about her once again we are going to sell her. I always thought you were too young to have a slave of your own, but as usual your father didn't agree. Looks like, again, I was right."

"It won't happen." Quinn swallowed dry, promising. She was glad she wasn't able to really tell what was bothering her, because now she knew her mother would have reacted much worse than she even imagined. "What was it that you needed in the first place, mother?"

"I need you to go to Basseterre and fetch some jewelry at your grandmother's house. It's mine by right and I don't wanna leave it there. I don't trust those slaves."

Quinn abode, like always. She always did anything to try and earn her mother's love. Still, her mother seemed to refuse to be a mother to her and even orders like that were given as if she was speaking to any of the other workers in the house. Quinn longed for a word or act of affection, but she had given up hope long ago.

"Did you call me, Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, appearing at the door as soon as Quinn rang the bell. The girl looked frightened, and Quinn bit her tongue to avoid a smile.

"Yes," said Quinn, turning her back to the girl and going through her stuff on the dressing table. Anything to avoid Rachel's eyes. "Ask Hank to prepare the carriage for me, I'll be leaving for Basseterre in half an hour."

"Oh," Quinn heard Rachel whimpering and stopped, frowning. "Can I come along, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked. "I miss my father and the other servants from the mansion, I wish I could see them!"

Her voice was so hopeful. Quinn was surprised by her courage to ask for such a favor on a day like that, when she should in fact be awaiting for punishment. Anyhow, Quinn would never allow that. She feared Rachel's father would try to buy her again, and Quinn didn't know how far her rights went or how to deal with it without her own father's help. As long as she could stop it, Rachel wouldn't be seeing him again.

She opened her mouth to say no, but the word got stuck inside her throat. It happened way more frequently than she would like to admit - she found herself speechless way too many times. Lucky for her, Rachel perceived her silence as denial and walked away quietly. Quinn let out a long breath, and wondered why the air always felt thicker at Rachel's presence.

"Good afternoon, miss Quinn," said the carriage driver, holding the door open for her and offering a hand to help her inside.

"Good afternoon, Hank." Quinn answered with a smile. He was one of the few paid employees of the farm, and perhaps that was the reason Quinn liked him so much.

He always made sure their drivings wouldn't become monotonous, talking to her through their way. He carried snacks, because he knew Quinn always got hungry during longer drives but never remembered the get snacks for herself. He offered blankets at the first chill wind that blew against the carriage. But most of all, he could still respect her and catch a hint when she wanted to sleep or just be quiet - something someone else could never do.

"So, what brings you to the marvelous Basseterre city this time?" He asked, grabbing the reins and making the carriage start moving. Quinn was grateful for the small window that allowed their communication.

"Oh, I'm just going to fetch a few things for mother." She explained with a smile. "I thought about going to church too, but I-" She stopped herself. She shouldn't overshare, especially about that matter. Truth is, she was afraid of stepping inside a church having what she had in mind. Hank didn't ask any further, and Quinn thanked him mentally.

"Would you like some apple fries?" He asked, lifting a bowl and passing to her through the window. She had just had lunch, and the road to Basseterre wasn't that long - but she didn't have the heart to deny it.

"Oh, thank you!" She answered, grabbing the bowl and trying some. "They're are delicious, Hank. But I'm afraid I won't be able to eat all of these! Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"No, no, most definitely not, miss Quinn." He answered, shaking his head vigorously. "I just assumed your slave would come too, and brought some extra for her." Quinn frowned.

"No, she isn't coming. But even if she did, she doesn't deserve those indulgences," Quinn replied a little too sharply, and cleared her throat to recompose herself. She looked forward to the day a mere mention of her slave wouldn't get in her nerves.

"Oh, noted, miss Quinn. I apologize." Hank nodded, and continued at Quinn's smile. "Still having problems with her, miss?"

"Even you know that?" Quinn's voice failed in frustration. She needed to fix that, and quickly. She couldn't bear to lose respect at the farm before she even started running it. "She's insolent, Hank. Can you believe today she dared to ask to come along? As if we were purely friends exchanging favors." She huffed, and Hank giggled.

"She's a difficult one, I'm sure of that." He shook his head with a smile. "She's been here only for a while and is already getting her way through the quarters."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked. She hadn't heard of Rachel wondering down there, and she couldn't imagine a reason for it. To be honest, she couldn't understand why anyone would deliberately go to the quarters.

"Well, I don't like to be the one to gossip, miss Quinn…" Hank murmured.

"This isn't gossiping, Hank. She's my property, I have the right to know. You tell me right now!" The fact that Quinn was infatuated by the driver didn't stop her from showing him his place. She knew where to draw the line.

"I saw her kissing Jackson, a boy from the quarters, at the crop over party." He answered in another murmur.

"Oh," Quinn murmured. Oh was all her head could muster. She was speechless once more. Her stomach twirled once more.

Oh.

Basseterre, 1778

Entering her late grandmother's house made her spine chill. It's not like she believed in ghosts, but she would rather not spend too much time right where someone had died. She hurried inside to grab what her mother had asked and leave as soon as she could.

"You," Quinn shouted to the first slave she saw inside. "Where is my grandmother's safe box?"

"It's over here, miss Quinn," she replied, jerking her head for Quinn to follow her upstairs. As they walked, the woman looked over her shoulder to Quinn, and asked. "Did Rachel come along with you, miss Quinn?"

"No," she answered harshly. Just when she was almost getting to forget it, the mention of Rachel's name brought back the memory she so hard tried to suppress. It was almost like people did it on purpose.

Quinn walked to the safe box and opened it with the key her mother had given her. She asked the slave to bring a bag for her to put the jewelry in and bring it back safely to the farm. But instead, the woman sent the bag with another slave, who made the same mistake.

"Oh, miss Quinn, may I ask you how's Rachel doing?"

Quinn wondered how a simple two syllables word could be so powerful. She didn't even need to close her eyes to watch Rachel kissing the slave over and over again. Her insides boiled in rage. It was distressing her to realize how much that moment had affected her.

Quinn shoved the safe box on the floor, making a loud thud of the metal hitting the hardwood. The slave froze.

"The next person to mention this girl's name is gonna be dead. Get over her!" She shouted, to make sure everyone in the house could hear her.

But even then, she knew well how hard it was to get over her.

She couldn't do it herself.