Page 24 of The Unforgiven
“Now, go back to the house. And don’t go making things worse,” Mammy instructed.
“I miss you,” Madeline said, feeling sadder than she had before. There was a finality to Mammy’s words. She was saying goodbye and telling Madeline to keep her distance for both their sakes.
“And I miss you, baby girl. I’s loved you since you was born, and I will love you always. But your life is on a different path now, and you don’t need me holding you back.”
“You’re not holding me back,” Madeline protested.
“No, but I ain’t helping you forward neither.” Mammy reached out and pulled Madeline into an embrace. She smelled of sweat and dust, but Madeline didn’t care. She buried her face in Mammy’s shoulder, wishing she could stay that way forever.
“I love you, Madeline. I always will.” Mammy gently took Madeline by the shoulders and held her away from her. “Go,” she said softly. “Find happiness, my girl.”
THIRTEEN
Madeline muddled through the rest of the day, wishing only that she could retreat to her room and go to bed where she would no longer have to pretend to be a well-brought-up young lady with not a care in the world. The brief moment of shame she’d experienced down at the slave quarters passed like a cloud over the sun and she felt more melancholy than before, her heart hollow in her chest, as if her loss had emptied it of blood and muscle and left a fragile shell in its place. She missed Daddy with an ache that was almost physical, and it reminded her of the desperate months after her mother had died, the loss leaving her so heartbroken that she’d cried and cried, forcing Daddy to put aside his own grief and do anything he could to soothe her.
Mammy, without being told, had cleared out all of Corinne’s belongings, leaving nothing at all that could remind Madeline of the woman who’d loved her. Even her nightdress had disappeared, along with all her dresses and shoes. Madeline had buried her face in her mother’s pillow, inhaling the smell of her hair, a smell that was achingly familiar. She’d fallen asleep clutching her mother’s pillow and only woke when her father gently kissed her brow.
“Wake up, Maddy,” he’d said. “It’s time to go.”
“Go where?”
“Go out. We’ve been cooped up in this house far too long, wallowing in our grief. Let’s take a walk along the river and look at the boats. What do you say?”
He knew that Madeline wouldn’t be able to resist. She loved watching the boats on the Mississippi. She especially liked the steamboats that dwarfed all the other vessels on the river, making them appear almost toylike. And they were beautiful too, like floating palaces with multiple decks adorned with lacy white railings, a huge paddle wheel on the side, and the boat’s name painted in big black letters on the wood casing around the wheel.Sometimes, music floated from the decks of a steamboat, a merry party taking place on the river. Madeline wished more than anything that she could attend such an event and stand on the top deck, her gloved hands on the railing, watching the water churning beneath the wheel and listening to sounds of gaiety coming from the salon within.
“Before we go, there’s something I’d like to give you.” Daddy had taken out a long, narrow box from his pocket and handed it to Madeline. “Open it.”
Madeline ran her small fingers along the length of the box. It was made of polished wood, and felt smooth and cool to the touch. She carefully opened the lid. Inside, nestled among folds of blue satin, lay a fan. It was made of ivory and lace, the ivory almost as delicate and transparent as the gauzy fabric.
“I bought this for your mama but never got the chance to give it to her. She would have wanted you to have it, to remember her by,” he said, choking on the words.
“I will keep it always,” Madeline said. She flipped open the fan, gazing at it in rapture. Her mother had loved beautiful things and would have adored this fan.
“Someday, I will explain things to you, Maddy, but you are still too young and too naïve to understand. I want to keep you that way for as long as possible.”
“What things?”
“Things that will change your view of the world, and of yourself.”
Maddy shrugged. She had no interest in the world. She fanned herself, enjoying the delicate feel of the ivory in her hand. It was exquisite, and something of her mother’s, which made it all the more special.
Madeline took out the fan and caressed the ivory with her fingers as silent tears slid down her cheeks. She wished she had something of her father’s, but Mammy had disposed of all his possessions before the funeral. Madeline had begged for a memento, but Mammy had said that keeping Daddy’s pocket watch or tie pin would only make Madeline sad. What made her sadder was the knowledge that Mr. Larson had taken everything of value to help pay Daddy’s massive debts. The sale of the house and Tess had covered a large portion of the sum, but not all of it, and Mr. Larson had personally seen to the disposal of furniture, paintings, silverware, books, and jewelry. Everything had gone, even Daddy’s clothes and shoes. Madeline briefly wondered if Mr. Larson had gotten his fee. In the past, she would have assumed that he would help as her daddy’s friend, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Madeline claimed a headache and asked to be excused from supper. She wasn’t hungry, just very weary, and desperate to be alone. She allowed Cissy to undress her and climbed into bed. The lavender shadows of encroaching dusk filled the room. Faint stars twinkled in the sky but grew bigger and brighter as a velvety Southern night cloaked the plantation. Through the open window Madeline could hear crickets and cicadas as they embarked on their nightly symphony, and a gentle breeze carried the strains of a haunting melody from the distant slave quarters.
Madeline was just drifting off to sleep when there was a light knock on the door. She thought it might be Cissy but was surprised when George entered the room, casually dressed in a linen shirt and pants and carrying a single candle. He set the candle on the nightstand and parted the gauzy mosquito net before sitting on the side of the bed. The mattress sagged beneath his weight.
“Are you all right?” George asked. “You weren’t at supper.”
“I had a headache.”
“I’m sorry. I heard you went to the slave quarters today.”
“I wanted to see Mammy. Why was she sent to the fields, Cousin George? She’s an old woman. Surely something could have been found for her indoors.” Madeline hadn’t meant to sound reproachful, but she was angry with George, and angry with the situation. She grew silent, hoping she hadn’t made things worse for Mammy.
“You’re right. I’ll see to it that Mammy doesn’t go back to the fields again. Perhaps the kitchen house. It’s hot work during the summer months, but easier for a woman of her age.”
“Why can’t Mammy stay with me, George? I miss her.”
