The Kitchen House Paperback - 2010

Summary

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

1791

Lavinia

IN THAT SPRING OF 1791, I did not understand that the trauma of loss had taken my memory. I knew only that after I woke, wedged between crates and bags, I was terror-stricken to discover that I did not know where I was, nor could I recall my name. I was frail after months of rough travel, and when the man lifted me from the wagon, I clung to his broad shoulders. He was having none of that and easily pulled my arms loose to set me down. I began to cry and reached back up for him, but he pushed me instead toward the old Negro male who was hurrying toward us.

âÈêJacob, take her,âÈë the man said. âÈêGive her to Belle. SheâÈçs hers for the kitchen.âÈë

âÈêYes, CapâÈçn.âÈë The old man kept his eyes low.

âÈêJames! James, youâÈçre home!âÈë

A womanâÈçs call! Hopeful, I stared up at the enormous house in front of me. It was made of clapboard and painted white, and a wide porch framed the full length of the front. Towering columns circled with vines of green and violet wisteria stood on either side of the broad front steps, and the air was thick with the fragrance this early April morning.

âÈêJames, why didnâÈçt you send word?âÈë the woman sang out into the morning mist.

Hands on his hips, the man leaned back for a better view. âÈêI warn you, wife. IâÈçve come home for you. Best come down before I come up.âÈë

Above, at a window that appeared open to the floor, she laughed, a figure of white froth capped by billowing auburn hair. âÈêOh no, James. You stay away until youâÈçve been washed.âÈë

âÈêMrs. Pyke. Prepare yourself,âÈë he shouted, and bounded over the threshold. Inside, he continued to shatter the peace. âÈêWhere is everyone?âÈë I heard him call. âÈêIâÈçm home!âÈë

At a run, I began to follow, but the dark old man caught my arm and held me. When I fought him, he lifted me up, and I screamed in terror. Swiftly, he carried me to the back of the house. We were high on a hill, and out farther, lesser hills surrounded us. A horn blasted, frightening me further, and I began to hit at my captor. He shook me firmly. âÈêYou stop this now!âÈë I stared at him, at his foreign dark brown skin that contrasted so with his white hair, and his dialect so strange that I scarcely understood. âÈêWhat you fightinâÈç me for?âÈë he asked. I was exhausted by it all and dropped my head on the manâÈçs thin shoulder. He continued on to the kitchen house.

âÈêBelle?âÈë the old man called. âÈêBelle?âÈë

âÈêUncle Jacob? Come in,âÈë a feminine voice called, and the wooden door creaked as he pushed it open with his foot.

Uncle Jacob slid me to my feet while a young woman came slowly down the stairs, then came forward, quickly tying a band of green calico around a thick braid of glossy black hair. Her large green eyes grew wide in disbelief as she took me in. I was comforted to see that she was not as foreign-looking as the man who had brought me to her, for though her light brown skin still differed from mine, her facial features more resembled my own.

Uncle Jacob spoke. âÈêThe capâÈçn send this chilâÈç to you. He say she for the kitchen house.âÈë

âÈêWhatâÈçs that man thinking? CanâÈçt he see sheâÈçs white?âÈë The woman sank in front of me and turned me around. âÈêYou been sick?âÈë She wrinkled her nose. âÈêIâÈçve got to burn these clothes. You nothing but bones. You wanting something to eat?âÈë She pried my thumb from my mouth and asked if I could speak. I could find no voice and looked around, trying to place myself.

Belle went to the enormous fireplace that stretched the length of the room. There she poured steaming milk into a wooden mug. When she held it to my mouth, I choked on the milk, and my body began an involuntary tremor. I vomited, then I passed out.

I AWOKE ON A PALLET in an upstairs room, too frightened to move after realizing that I still had no memory. My head ached, but when I rubbed it, I withdrew my hands in shock. My long hair had been cut short.

I had been scrubbed pink, and my skin was tender under the coarse brown shirt that covered me. My stomach turned from the scent of unfamiliar food rising up the open stairway from the kitchen below. My thumb pacified me, and I soothed myself as I studied the room. Clothes hung from pegs on the wall, and a pole bed stood off to one side with a small plain chest next to it. Sun streamed through a window, open and undraped, and from the outdoors came the sudden peal of a childâÈçs laughter. It rang familiar, and forgetting all else, I sprang to the window. The brightness stung so that I needed both hands to shade my eyes. First all I saw was rolling green, but below the window, I saw a path. It cut past a large fenced-in garden and led to a log house where, on steps, sat two small dark brown girls. They were watching a scene up toward the big house. I leaned out farther and saw a towering oak. From a thick low branch, a little girl on a swing sang out to a boy behind her.

When he pushed the swing, the little girl, all blue and blond, squealed. The tall boy laughed. There it was again! A laugh I recognized. Driven by hope, I ran down the wooden stairs, out the open door of the kitchen, and up the hill to them. The boy pulled the swing to a stop, and the two gaped at me. Both had deep blue eyes, and both exuded vibrant health.

âÈêWho are you? Where did you come from?âÈë the boy asked, his yellow hair glinting in the bright light.

I could only stare back, dumb in my disappointment. I did not know him.

âÈêIâÈçm Marshall,âÈë the boy tried again, âÈêand this is my sister, Sally.âÈë

âÈêIâÈçm four,âÈë said Sally, âÈêhow old are you?âÈë She tapped the air with her blue shoes and peeked out at me from under the flopping brim of a white bonnet.

I couldnâÈçt find a voice to answer, so I felt a rush of gratitude for Marshall when he pulled the attention away from me by jiggling the swing. âÈêHow old am I?âÈë he asked his sister.

âÈêYouâÈçre two,âÈë said Sally, trying to poke at him with her foot.

âÈêNo, IâÈçm not.âÈë Marshall laughed. âÈêIâÈçm eleven.âÈë

âÈêNo, youâÈçre two,âÈë teased Sally, enjoying a familiar game.

Suddenly, I was swooped up in BelleâÈçs arms. âÈêCome back in,âÈë she said sharply, âÈêyou stay with me.âÈë

Inside the kitchen house, Belle set me on a corner pallet opposite a dark brown woman who was suckling a baby. I stared, hungry at the intimacy. The mother looked at me and although her face was young, she had deep lines around her eyes.

âÈêWhat your name?âÈë she asked. When I didnâÈçt answer, she continued, âÈêThis be my baby, Henry,âÈë she said, âÈêand I his mama, Dory.âÈë

The baby suddenly pulled back from her breast and gave a high shrill cry. I jammed my thumb into my mouth and shrank back.

NOT KNOWING WHAT WAS EXPECTED of me, I stayed put on a pallet in the kitchen. In those first days, I studied BelleâÈçs every move. I had no appetite, and when she insisted that I eat, my stomach emptied violently. Each time I was sick, it meant another cleaning. As BelleâÈçs frustration with me grew, so did my fear of upsetting her. At night I slept on a pallet in a corner of BelleâÈçs upstairs room. On the second night, unable to sleep, I went to stand at BelleâÈçs bedside, comforted by the sound of her soft night breathing.

I must have frightened her, for when she woke, she shouted at me to get back to my own bed. I scurried back, more afraid than ever.

The dark haunted me, and with each passing night I sank further into loss. My head throbbed with the struggle of trying to remember something of myself. Thankfully, relief from my sorrow came just before sunup, when the roosters and the horn called everyone to rise. Then another woman, Mama Mae, joined Belle in the kitchen. The two women worked easily together, but I soon sensed that, though Belle was in charge of the kitchen, Mama Mae was in charge of Belle. Mama Mae was a woman of size, although nothing about her was soft. She was a sober woman who moved like a current, and her quickness made it plain that she did not suffer idleness. She gripped a corncob pipe between her tobacco-stained teeth. It was seldom lit, though she chewed the stem, and after time I decided that it served the same purpose to her that my thumb did to me. I might have been more frightened of her had she not given me an early benediction of her smile. Then her dark brown face, her flat features, and her black eyes wrinkled into kindness.

In the days that followed, I no longer tried to eat, and slept most of the time. On the morning Mama Mae examined me, Belle watched from across the room. âÈêSheâÈçs just being stubborn. When I get her to eat, she just brings it up, so now IâÈçm only giving her water. SheâÈçll get hungry soon enough,âÈë Belle said.

Mama held my face in her strong hand. âÈêBelle!âÈë she said sharply. âÈêThis chilâÈç not fightinâÈç you. She too sick. You got to get her to eat, or you gonna lose her.âÈë

âÈêI donâÈçt know why the capâÈçn give her to me. I got enough work.âÈë

âÈêBelle, you ever think maybe when I first find out they movinâÈç you to the kitchen house, I think that way âÈçbout you?âÈë

âÈêWell, I sure wasnâÈçt making a mess, throwing up all over you.âÈë

âÈêNo, but you was âÈçbout the same age, maybe six, seven years at the time. And you was born and raised here, and you still carried on,âÈë Mama Mae scolded.

Belle was silent, but following that, she was less brusque with me.

Later that day, Mama Mae killed a chicken. She made a broth for me, and for the first time my stomach tolerated something other than water. After some days of this healing liquid, I began to eat and then to retain solid food. When I became more alert again, Belle began to quiz me. Finally, summoning all of my courage, I managed to convey that I had no memory. Whether it was my foreign accent or BelleâÈçs surprise at my information, I do not know, but she stared at me, disbelieving. To my enormous relief, she didnâÈçt question me further. Then, just as things began to settle, Belle and I were called to the big house.

Belle was nervous. She fussed at me with a comb until, in frustration, she finally wrapped my head in a scarf to cover the chopped mess that was my hair. I was dressed in a fresh brown shirt that fell below my knees, over which Belle tied a white apron that she had stitched hastily from a kitchen cloth.

âÈêDonâÈçt suck your thumb.âÈë Belle pulled my swollen finger from my mouth. She stooped down to my level and forced me to meet her eyes. âÈêWhen she ask you anything, you say, âÈæyes, maâÈçam.âÈç ThatâÈçs all you say: âÈæyes, maâÈçam.âÈç Do you understand?âÈë

I understood little of what was expected, but I nodded, eager to still BelleâÈçs anxiety.

I FOLLOWED CLOSELY BEHIND BELLE on the brick path that led us up to the back porch. Uncle Jacob nodded solemnly while holding open the door. âÈêClean those feet,âÈë he said.

I stopped to brush fine dirt and sand from my bare feet, then felt the smoothness of the highly polished wood as I stepped across the threshold. Far ahead, the front door was open, and a light breeze swept down the long hallway, past me, and out the open back door. That first morning I did not note the mahogany highboy standing sentry in the hall; nor did I see the tall blue and white tulipier, displayed proudly as the latest expense from across the sea. I remember very clearly, though, the terror I felt as I was led to the dining room.

âÈêWell! Here they are!âÈë the captainâÈçs voice boomed.

At the sight of me, little Sally squealed, âÈêLook, Marshall! ItâÈçs that girl from the kitchen. Can I play with her, Mama?âÈë

âÈêYou stay away from her,âÈë the woman said, âÈêshe looks sick. James! WhateverâÈöâÈë

âÈêSteady, Martha. I had no choice. The parents died, and they owed me passage. Either she came with me, or I had to indenture her out. She was sick. I would have got nothing for her.âÈë

âÈêWas she alone?âÈë

âÈêNo, she had a brother, but he was easy enough to place.âÈë

âÈêWhyâÈçd you put her in the kitchen house?âÈë Marshall asked.

âÈêWhat else could I do?âÈë his father replied. âÈêShe has to be trained for some use.âÈë

âÈêBut why with her!âÈë Marshall nodded toward Belle.

âÈêThatâÈçs enough, son,âÈë the captain said, waving me forward. âÈêCome here, come here.âÈë Though now clean-shaven and dressed as a gentleman, I recognized him as the one who had lifted me from the wagon. He was not a tall man, but his overall size and his loud voice put forth a large presence. His gray hair was tied in the back, and his deep blue eyes peered at us over spectacles.

The captain looked past me. âÈêHow are you, Belle?âÈë he asked.

âÈêFine, CapâÈçn,âÈë she replied softly.

âÈêYou look fine,âÈë he said, and his eyes smiled at her.

âÈêOf course sheâÈçs fine, James, why wouldnâÈçt she be fine? Look at her. Such a beautiful girl. She wants for nothing, head of a kitchen at her young age, and practically owning her own fine house. You have your pick of beaus, donâÈçt you, Belle?âÈë The woman spoke quickly in a high voice, leaning her elbow on the table as she pulled repeatedly at an escaped strand of her red hair. âÈêDonâÈçt you, Belle? DonâÈçt they come and go?âÈë she asked insistently.

âÈêYes, maâÈçam.âÈë BelleâÈçs voice was strained.

âÈêCome, come,âÈë the captain interrupted, and again waved me forward. Closer to him, I focused on the deep lines that creased his weathered face when he smiled. âÈêAre you helping in the kitchen?âÈë he asked.

âÈêYes, maâÈçam,âÈë I croaked, anxious to follow BelleâÈçs instruction.

The room exploded in laughter, though I saw that the boy, Marshall, did not laugh.

âÈêShe said âÈæyes, maâÈçamâÈç to you, Daddy.âÈë Sally giggled.

The captain chuckled. âÈêDo I look like a âÈæmaâÈçamâÈç to you?âÈë

Uncertain of my answer, for I did not understand this unfamiliar form of address, I anxiously nodded. Again there was laughter.

Suddenly, the captain turned, and his voice boomed. âÈêFanny! Beattie! Slow down, youâÈçll blow us out of the room.âÈë

It was then I noticed the two small dark-skinned girls and remembered them from the first day when they had been seated on the steps of the cabin. Through kitchen conversation, I had learned that they were Mama MaeâÈçs six-year-old twins. Now they stood on the other side of the table, each pulling a cord. The cords were attached to a large fan suspended from the ceiling that, when pulled, flapped over the dining room table like the wing of a gigantic butterfly, thereby creating a draft. With the excitement of the laughter, their enthusiasm was overventilating the room, but after the shout from the captain, their dark eyes grew solemn and their pulling slowed.

The captain turned back. âÈêBelle,âÈë he said, âÈêyouâÈçve done well. YouâÈçve kept her alive.âÈë He glanced down at some papers before him and spoke directly to me after skimming a page. âÈêLetâÈçs see. YouâÈçll soon be seven years old. Is that right?âÈë

I didnâÈçt know.

In the silence, Sally chirped up, âÈêIâÈçm four years old.âÈë

âÈêThat will do, Sally,âÈë Martha said. She sighed, and the captain winked at his wife. When he removed his spectacles to better study me, I felt faint under his scrutiny. âÈêDonâÈçt you know your age? Your father was a schoolteacher, didnâÈçt he teach you numbers?âÈë

My father? I thought. I have a father?

âÈêWhen you feel stronger, I want you to work in the kitchen,âÈë he said. âÈêCan you do that?âÈë

My chest ached, and I was finding it difficult to breathe, but I nodded.

âÈêGood,âÈë he said, âÈêthen weâÈçll keep you here until youâÈçve grown.âÈë He paused. âÈêDo you have any questions?âÈë

My need to know surpassed my terror. I leaned closer to him. âÈêMy name?âÈë I managed to whisper.

âÈêWhat? What do you mean, your name?âÈë he asked.

Belle spoke quickly. âÈêShe donâÈçt know her name.âÈë

The captain looked at Belle as though for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, he looked down again at the papers before him. He coughed before he answered. âÈêIt says here your name is Lavinia. Lavinia McCarten.âÈë

I clung to the information as though it were a life raft. I donâÈçt remember leaving the room, but I surfaced on a pallet in the kitchen to overhear Uncle and Belle discussing the captain. He was leaving again in the morning, Belle said, and she was expecting a visit from him that evening.

âÈêYou gonna ask for those papers?âÈë Uncle Jacob questioned.

Belle didnâÈçt answer.

âÈêYou tell him that you needs them now. Miss Martha got her eye on you. The capâÈçn know she take the black drops, but he donâÈçt know that she drink the peach liquor with it. You gettinâÈç more pretty by the day, and after all that drinkinâÈç, when Miss Martha pick up that mirror, she see that she lookinâÈç more than her thirty years. She out to get you, and time goes on, it only get worse.âÈë

BelleâÈçs usual determined voice was subdued. âÈêBut Uncle, I donâÈçt want to go. This place my home. You all my family.âÈë

âÈêBelle, you know you got to go,âÈë he said.

Their conversation ended when Uncle Jacob saw my open eyes. âÈêWell, well, well. Lil Abinya wake up,âÈë he said.

Belle came over to me. âÈêLavinia,âÈë she said, pushing my hair from my forehead, âÈêthat name sounds like you.âÈë

I stared at her, then turned my face away. I was more lost than ever, for I felt no connection to that name.

THE NEXT EVENING I WAS sent home with Mama Mae. I didnâÈçt want to leave the kitchen house, but Belle insisted. Mama said that her twins, Fanny and Beattie, the two girls I had seen working the fan, would be there with me. On the walk over, Mama Mae held my hand and pointed out how the kitchen house was just a short distance from her own small cabin.

Fanny and Beattie were there to greet us. I hung back, wanting to stay next to Mama Mae, but the girls were eager for a new playmate. They drew me into a corner of the small cabin to a shelf that had been carved into one of the logs, where their treasures were kept.

The taller of the two, Fanny was the leader, with her motherâÈçs quick eyes and direct speech; her arms and legs were like those of a colt. Beattie was short and plump, pretty already, with a broad smile emphasized by two deep dimples.

âÈêLook,âÈë Fanny instructed me as she withdrew toys from the shelf. She handed down a doll-size table with two chairs, constructed of small twigs held together with bits of animal sinew. Beattie showed me her doll, then offered it to me to hold. I grabbed for it with such hunger that Beattie hesitated until her generous spirit won out and she released it. âÈêMama make her,âÈë she said with pride, looking back to Mama Mae.

I gripped BeattieâÈçs prize, my heart pierced with longing. The doll was made of rough brown cloth; her eyes were stitched in black thread, while black wool stood out in braids. I fingered the dollâÈçs shirt, styled like the one the twins and I wore. She wore a red apron, and I recognized it as the same fabric as Mama MaeâÈçs head scarf.

As dark descended, Dory and baby Henry joined us. They had frequently visited the kitchen house, where I had learned that Dory was Mama MaeâÈçs eldest daughter. I liked Dory well enough, for she left me alone, but I wasnâÈçt fond of the baby with his harsh cry.

Although distracted by the girls and their play, I kept a close eye on MamaâÈçs reassuring presence. When the door suddenly opened, a huge dark bear of a man stood framed against the even blacker night sky. I flew to MamaâÈçs side. Fanny and Beattie scrambled to their feet and ran to the man, who scooped them up. âÈêPapa!âÈë they cried. After he released them, they went back to their play, and with MamaâÈçs encouragement, I joined them.

âÈêEveninâÈç, Dory.âÈë The manâÈçs voice was so deep, he might have been underground, and when he paused by baby HenryâÈçs mama, his large hand covered the top of her head. âÈêHow your lil one doinâÈç?âÈë

âÈêNot so good, Papa,âÈë Dory answered, not looking up from the bench where she sat nursing her infant. The child fussed when she gently pulled his swollen hands out to show her father. âÈêWhen his hands get big like this, he cry all the time,âÈë she said.

Her father leaned down and, with a knuckle, gently stroked the babyâÈçs cheek. When he straightened, he sighed and then took a few giant strides across the floor to Mama Mae. The girls giggled and hid their eyes when their father reached for Mama, pulling her to him and playfully nuzzling her neck. âÈêGeorge!âÈë Mama laughed, then shooed him off. When he stepped back, he caught my eye and nodded at me. I quickly turned away.

Belle was expecting a visitor, Mama Mae said to the man, as though to explain my presence, and the pair exchanged a look before Mama Mae turned back to the fireplace. She scooped out stew from a black pot that hung over the open fire, and Papa set the filled wooden bowls on the narrow table. Then she brushed the coals from the top lid of another black iron pot that was nestled in hot ash, and from it she removed a steaming round corn cake, browned to crispness around the edges.

The three adults pulled up small stools to the table, and Fanny and Beattie had me stand between them as they began to eat. But everything felt strange, and I wanted the familiarity of the kitchen house. With no appetite, I studied the food, and when Mama instructed me to eat, I began to cry.

âÈêCome here, Abinia,âÈë she said, and after I went to her, she hoisted me onto her lap. âÈêChilâÈç, you got to eat. You need some meat on them bones. Here, I dip this into the gravy for you, and you eat so you get strong as Mama.âÈë

The twins laughed. âÈêYou treatinâÈç her just like a baby, Mama,âÈë Fanny said.

âÈêWell,âÈë Mama said, âÈêmaybe she my new baby, and I got to feed her. Now you open your mouth, lil baby.âÈë I so wanted her mothering that I ate the corn bread she dipped into the thick ham gravy. She continued to feed me as she spoke of the captain leaving and how Miss MarthaâÈçs nerves were running over again.

Dory said she had to go back up to the big house tonight, no telling what Miss Martha would do when the captain left in the morning. Mama Mae said how she wished she could go stay with Miss Martha so Dory could stay with baby Henry.

Dory answered with a deep sigh, âÈêYou know itâÈçs me she be wantinâÈç,âÈë and Mama agreed.

We had almost finished the meal when we heard muffled voices from the outside. Papa George began to rise, and my stomach clenched when Mama quickly set me aside. âÈêNo, George!âÈë she said standing. âÈêMe and Dory go. WonâÈçt do nobody no good to throw another man in this stewpot.âÈë

I heard footsteps coming at a run, and when the door flew open, Belle came in gasping for air. Her green head rag was missing, and her usual night braid was undone. Mama Mae pulled Belle inside before she and Dory rushed out. Belle leaned against the wall, panting, then straightened herself before walking over to the table, where she sat across from Papa.

Belle said, âÈêShe comes down after him this time. She never do that before. And Marshall, he comes with her. When she sees the new comb and the book he gives me, she takes them up and throws them at me. That starts Marshall pushing and hitting on me. The capâÈçn grabs him and sends him out the door, but then Miss Martha starts crying and hitting on him. He says, âÈæMartha, Martha, get ahold of yourself,âÈç but sheâÈçs so worked up, he tells me to go get Mama.âÈë Belle put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands.

Papa shook his head. âÈêDid you ask for the free papers?âÈë he asked.

Belle spoke through her fingers. âÈêHe says IâÈçll get them next summer.âÈë

The air clicked with PapaâÈçs anger, and when he stood, he pushed back the table with such force that two of the wooden bowls flew to the floor. âÈêNext year! Next year! Always the next time! SomethingâÈçs gonna happen here if he donâÈçt get you those papers!âÈë

When the door closed behind him, I was more surprised than anyone that my supper came up without warning. With it, though, I felt some relief, as my involuntary action seemed to refocus Belle and steady her while she cleaned me.

The twins watched from their pallet, the sleeping baby Henry beside them. After Belle finished with me, she set me with them, then straightened the room. When everything was in order, Belle came to us, eased the sleeping baby into her arms, and nodded for me to join her. We were all startled to hear a loud thunking sound from outside, but as it continued, Fanny identified the source. âÈêPapa choppinâÈç his wood again,âÈë she whispered.

When we left for BelleâÈçs house, white moonlight offered only shadow on the far side of the cabin where Papa worked.

âÈêPapa?âÈë Belle called softly. âÈêPapa?âÈë

The pounding stopped.

âÈêPapa, donâÈçt worry. IâÈçll get the papers,âÈë she said into the silence.

Âû 2010 Kathleen Grissom

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Citations

• Kirkus Reviews, 12/15/2009, Page 0
• Publishers Weekly, 11/09/2009, Page 29
• Quill & Quire, 03/01/2010, Page 24
• Romantic Times, 03/01/2010, Page 52