slr_europa@yahoo.com http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa AIM:: ropachan *********************************** Love Through Time ~ A Serena and Darien Saga Volume III, Chapter iii by Sailor Europa "When the Sun comes back And the first quail calls Follow the Drinking Gourd. For the old man is a-waiting for to carry you to freedom If you follow the Drinking Gourd." The throaty, overwhelming voices of the slaves came from the field, the slight wind lifting them into a softer tone before it reached our ears. Mama, Lila, Mammy and I were draped lazily over the front porch, our skin prickling under the blazing afternoon sun. We were oblivious; our only care the arrival of Papa that was forthcoming. He had once more taken leave of the house to visit Mr. Pierson, much to the chagrin of Mama. He had journeyed there much more often, as of late. And it began to appear that the ride was not doing him any good. Each return was more silent, more tempered, the grin he wore always increasingly more false bravado than genuine humor. We had assumed he would make the trip in order to talk politics with another man, but it became apparent that this was not the case. The conversations and quips seemed less and less each time he returned and the personal news had become non-existent. It was obvious that there was a happening going on in the county, one that was pestering Papa's and the neighboring plantation owner's minds very much. My own previous reassurances to myself had begun to wear thin, and I wondered what it was he was keeping from us. It took a great deal to bother Papa so frequently, and so thoroughly, and I knew that the news must have been big. But he hadn't breathed a word to my sisters, or me for we sat in a solemn silence, not knowing just what to say whenever Papa returned. The curious glances thrown from one face to another were enough to tell me that they were just as in the dark as I. So that evening, as the familiar clomp of hooves thundered over the hills and beyond the groves, we all tensed greatly, wondering whether tonight would be the night all would be revealed. Mammy sprinted up from her rocking chair and craned her neck; despite that we all knew it could only be Papa. Her set, confused brow told us we were right. We all rose quickly and stepped lively off the wooden stairs and padded quickly towards the sound. Nothing seemed different from the other times, and I watched in stilled anxiety as Papa remained on his saddle while we all turned our gazes up to face him. The horse stamped impatiently, aching to travel farther, but Papa slapped it hard and stayed seated. "Is everything all right?" Mama asked nervously, her hands clasped in front of her throat. Lila seemed equally as annoyed with the impatient nature of the obvious news and shifted her weight constantly from one foot to the other. "Things are a bit… off at the Pierson's lately." He answered vaguely and neither Lila nor Mama seemed satisfied. I had to admit that even I was a bit out of sorts with the tension that rode in with Papa upon each return. The events surrounding that time had been enough to send me over the edge already and now I had to worry about the strangeness of Papa's actions each night. "What's happened?" Lila asked, her voice an octave higher from anxiety. Papa glared straight ahead, as if the hills in the distance contained all the answers. He blinked and turned a smile, full of false hopes and unreal emotions, towards her. "Nothing you need to worry about, darling. A few problems with the help, that's all." He replied shortly, patting her head. She didn't seem at all satisfied and kept a vigilant glare in his direction. "What kind of problems, Jarred?" Mama asked, her voice cracking and I felt my heart constrict. I could see the toll this was all taking on her weak will. She wouldn't deal with it as well as we children would. Papa hesitated before answering, and glanced about nervously, watching for any kind of prying eye from beyond his vision. His eyes rested on the darkies working in the fields, yards away, and he let the stare dawdle for a bit. He tore his gaze away and set a serious expression upon us. "They seem to be missing a few of their slaves." He said steadily, hoping that the tone would save our worries a bit. It didn't. "What? How is that possible?" Mama's face was white with panic and I raised my arm to clasp her own. She squeezed my hand, but didn't acknowledge it with a glance. "We're not sure." Once again, he cast a paranoid glance in the direction of the cotton fields. "But it has been happening a bit more lately. Mr. Pierson is convinced they have organized, but I am not so quick to believe." He shook his head, and I knew he truly believed his words. "It is merely a coincidence." "Jarred, what if the trend spreads? What if the other slaves get wind of the "coincidence"?" Mama asked again. Papa chuckled softly, reassuringly and gazed down at her confidently. He finally swung his leg over and hopped down from his seat and stood before her lovingly. Despite his proud and sure expression, Mama wasn't convinced. "Don't you worry, Ellen. Mr. Pierson and I will figure things out. You and the girls needn't worry about a thing." He patted her shoulder and she sighed, giving in for the time being. He enveloped her shoulders with one massive arm and then claimed Lila under the other, while I lagged behind. My arms were wound tightly behind me; I watched the trail the three in front of me blazed intently. I could feel my forehead burrow deeply as I thought about the conversation not a week ago between my father and his friend, the one I had been so convinced was fairly important. I knew that it was just one stop in a long line of incidences occurring between the two men. I compared the man that walked calmly in front of me, his back tense and head alert, to the one from those days ago. They didn't appear parallel to my mind. The visits to Mr. Pierson's were more than just friendly chats and as I watched my taught father now, I was sure that more was happening than he was letting on. He was either completely calm or insanely upset. Papa was a Southerner. There was no in between. ***** Sleep was impossible that night. Whether the cause was Papa's uneasiness, or simply the stress I had been under, it didn't really matter. Insomnia had claimed me as a victim and I had to simply succumb to it. I arose from my bed slowly, and walked to the window that overlooked the now desolate, ghostly fields. The crops swayed in the breeze and I let my body lean against the wood paneling as the sight both calmed and frightened me. The contrasting light and dark hues were almost consuming as I stared mindlessly into them, yet the gentle sounds they made as they swished in the wind put my raging mind at ease. I watched in complete silence for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been in reality. My eyelids were light and not as much of a burden as they should have been, and I felt as if I could watch the sight forever. From within the rustling of the leaves and crops came an indistinguishable, almost inaudible padding from down below my window not even moments later. It took me a few moments to really recognize it as reality, but I tilted my head in order to catch it a bit better once I had. My eyes stayed in the same position as before, and had my mind not been to preoccupied with trying to analyze the sound, I might have trusted what my eyes seemed to spy. From deep within the crops, a figure appeared crouched for what seemed like an impossible amount of time, not stirring for minutes on end. The darkness was often deceiving, to even the most adjusted eyes, so I blinked a few times to clear the image. Not changing a thing, I began to rub them fiercely. When they opened once more, the scene was gone, and the sound had disappeared. I scanned the grounds for minutes, but found nothing. I shook my head in amazement at my own gullibility. Standing upright now, I willed my body to return to bed, only to find my stubborn eyes remaining on the compound beyond my window. I eventually tore my unforgiving eyes from the raven scene and made them lead me back to my warm bed, convincing them and my mind that once again, my imagination had gotten the better of me. ***** "WHAT?!" My body stiffened at the voice that boomed from beyond the stairs the next morning. I had arisen early, sleep not gracing me the whole night before, and had dressed and eaten before my sisters had even let their eyes drift open once. I froze in the center of the stairs now, paralyzed by the force of the tone that bellowed from below me. My skirts rustled mercilessly, and I blinked as the house fell silent once again. Eventually, a few footsteps paced back and forth on the wooden floor beneath them, and I could picture Papa stomping in circles in the parlor on the first floor. I let my feet shift the weight of my body as I leaned over the railing, hoping to get a clearer image of the scene, than the one that had begun playing in my mind. I glimpsed Papa's feet, pacing just as I had predicted, every so often. Mammy was off to the right, and I could detect her worn, depressed expression etched almost permanently. I knew that it was not a good sign. Something had happened during the night. "How? How could this happen?" Papa raged, his hands now visible amongst the tirade. Mammy shook her head sadly in reply. "Three! Three slaves! Just disappear in the night, without the slightest detection? How could this happen?" My knuckles tightened involuntarily. My face went white and my knees grew weak. Disappear? Three of our own darkies had escaped? "I don't know…." Mammy replied, but I barely heard her voice rise to the steps where I stood, my stance faltering under the news. Gone. Three slaves. Three slaves that we legally owned had escaped, without anyone in the house knowing a thing. I couldn't even being to comprehend what this meant, but the past few days came back with a vengeance and I knew that it was all woven together, a rich, threatening tapestry that was waiting to smother us senseless. Just like the incidents at Mr. Pierson's plantation. I felt short of breath and I was glad that I was the only one awake to hear the news this early. Had Mama and my sisters been up at this time, the whole house would have been in an upheaval, and I knew that I never would have been able to inhale properly until things had calmed down. I barely took the time to recall that insomnia that plagued me the night before, but when my mind eventually wandered purposefully back to my imagined figure, something clicked. I hadn't the slightest clue how or why, but the form in the cotton field last night was just as real as the three escaped darkies, and somehow connected just as closely. I was sure it had been true, but I hesitated before trotting down to reveal the news to Papa. I, of course, had not gotten even a fair glance at him, or her. Should I bring the news forth, it would only cause unnecessary excitement to my father. We would never find out who the culprit was, for no one had even seen his face, or anything that could bring a prosecution any nearer to reality. It was hard for my sisters and I to watch Papa in such anguish, day after day. I didn't want to be the one to strain him even more with useless burdens. So I remained on the stairs, confident in my decision to keep silent with my newly remembered information. Despite what my heart had said, it was for his own good. ***** I wiped at my forehead violently as I walked farther and farther down the beaten path, the hot afternoon sun beating down, seemingly inches from my face. Papa had asked me to visit the neighboring plantations, under the pretense of hoping for information on other possible escaped slaves in the remote areas. He had decided that a friendly chat with a young lady might seem more diplomatic, and considering the state of mind I felt while I was in the house, I volunteered to go. Before Papa could assign a chaperone to accompany me, I was out the door, and already 50 feet from the front steps. My feet had slowed once I was positive that Mammy wasn't going to follow, and I began to let my mind slow as well. Just being out of the confines of those walls was liberating, and I could feel the cobwebs fly from the corners of my brain already. Despite the horrendous weather for the occasion, I still welcomed any chance to think alone. And this was about as alone as I could imagine…. ***** The sun was mercifully setting hours later, as I dragged my weary feet on the opposite side of the road, going the opposite direction. The trip was not as fruitful as Papa had hoped, I imagined. Each knock at the door only brought more of the same. A few slaves here and there had been noticed missing, but with no concrete explanation behind any of the incidences. I thanked each household warmly, and with a smile, but let the grin fade as I journeyed onward, my jovial expression eventually gone completely as I found my way back home hours later. I watched the beautiful, fiery sky, painted a deep crimson from the setting sun, turn casually into a pale indigo, and eventually the light navy of dusk. The air was cooler and I thanked the heavens for the change in atmosphere on the returning journey. Almost half a mile from home, I felt an annoying pang seer through my left ankle, and not able to ignore the pain anymore, I found a relatively clear tree stump and settled down to retrieve the hindrance from my slipper. I realize that had I not taken the time to pause, I might have missed what happened next. My ears had perked up for an unknown reason and caught almost immediately on a familiar rustling from behind me. I turned my body around a quarter of the ways and peered almost totally blindly into the groves that now wafted in the early evening breeze. I blinked until a few details became clearer, and then had the muscles in my back tighten in response to an even louder rustling, coming closer this time. Shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, I inhaled deeply, careful not to let my confidence falter as I prepared to face my stalker. "Who's there?" I asked, a bit more tentatively than I would have liked, my voice wavering and breaking under my fear. Not a word was uttered in response, but I was met with louder, more insistent bristling from the trees, obviously many feet closer than it had been before. Paralyzed with a strange concoction of fear and curiosity, I wrung my palms anxiously, my feet rooted deeply in their spot. I knew that until my mind was at ease, I would be unable to leave. The sound was almost deafening to my piqued hearing now, and I was sure that somehow everything had slowed down for the sole purpose of making me fret more. Once my paranoia climaxed completely, a lone figure jumped out, almost comically, from the combination of leaves and enveloping darkness. "Darien Jacobs, what in God's name are you doing?" I exhaled and bellowed, all at one time. He barely noticed me, but motioned for another to emerge, and eventually two more men, before even acknowledging my presence. "We were never here, Selena…." Was the only reply I got from him before he threw me a frantic, perturbed glare, his eyes never even bothering meet my own. My shoulders squaring and my arms tightening, I stomped angrily. "Like hell you weren't!" I sputtered, the annoyance from previous encounters still billowing and overflowing from unmentioned prods and words. "What are you doing stumbling around Mr. Pierson's groves?" He blinked and reluctantly turned back to me, abandoning his companions as he stepped a few feet closer. "I wasn't stumbling around Mr. Pierson's groves…" He stated matter-of- factly, his eyes dancing in obvious amusement, even in the dark moonlight. "His land ends 100 feet to the West." He pointed to the ground below him. "These are your groves." My eyes narrowed, and a pinched vein began to twitch anxiously above my left temple as I fought the urge to slap him once more, as I had upon our previous meeting. I huffed out a breath and scrunched up my face, and it appeared that he had done the same. "You must have a spine made of steel if you expect me to –." "I don't expect a *thing* from you." He mumbled almost inaudibly, his face leaning closer to my own, his voice malicious in tone. "How can I expect anything from a soulless person such as yourself?" His gaze was glassy as polished marble and just as hard as he continued. "I have not assaulted you, or your land in any means, miss. I would like to retain that record." His gaze slimmed down to slivers and I gasped at the insinuation. Before I could utter another retaliation, he had once more left me in the dust, my words dissolving in my throat before I could hurl them at his unwilling ears. Stuck with shock and loathing, I growled menacingly towards his back, my anger growing with each foot he disappeared, only to find it had no where to go…. ******************************* slr_europa@yahoo.com http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa/ AIM :: ropachan